#I usually edit a chapter in the morning before work and a chapter before bed

[strawbubbysugar]

bubby, how do you manage to write, draw, and edit almost every day ON TOP OF working, eating, showering, paying the bills, shopping, socialising, and everything else??? you post chapters so quickly whereas I take like a month to write one!! how do you do it?

Simple! If I do not create I explode. Hope this helps!

[rivalsispunk]

Driving Miss Crazy (Chapter 3 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), mentions of male orgasm, pussy pronouns, Tony being a grot, more warnings added per chapter.

Word count: 5.5k !!!

Chapter summary: Working alongside you proves far more difficult for Declan than he anticipated and you're noticing that your handsome, moustached boss is getting a bit antsy.

A/N: This is a chonky chapter!! But hopefully it is well worth the wait. I am livingggggg for tortured Declan and him not being able to keep himself together. As usual, proofread but can't promise clean edits. Enjoy!

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter Three: Driving Miss Crazy

Your Vauxhall Cavalier’s steering wheel is slick with sweat. It’ll be a miracle if you don’t end up with blisters on your palms from how tight you’re gripping the leather as you make the short drive from your flat to Corinium for your first day as Declan’s assistant. You hadn’t laid eyes on him since you fled the hot tub several days ago, save for watching his show on Thursday evening, brittle embarrassment nestled in your bones after your late-night encounter. Though Taggie’s snoring subsided when you both returned to bed, you were kept awake for hours at the thought of another O’Hara. The finger of whiskey you’d downed buzzed through your veins. Still, Declan’s bourbon-brown eyes boring into yours over the glass seemed to have intoxicated you further to the point where you were unable to close your eyes without seeing his moustache quivering over a miniscule smile. 

Though you were up before the birds the following morning, Declan had already made for Corinium, his Mini Clubman Estate already gone from the drive. It was purposeful, his early leave. After you’d escaped back upstairs with his daughter the night before, he’d made his way to his office, polished off his bottle of whiskey and shamelessly fucked his hand to the image of your lithe legs stretched over the hot tub, and the echo of you promising him you could handle it. The moment he spilled himself over his fist was the moment the mortification consumed him. Mortified at himself for disrespecting his albeit fragmented marriage like that. For disrespecting you like that, and he couldn’t bear to run into you in The Priory’s kitchen the next day and pretend like he hadn’t done so. Luckily for him, you didn’t cross paths all weekend either, thanks to being off shopping for workwear with Taggie, just as he’d requested. Being privy to your usual everyday attire and how uncomfortable you seemed in Maud’s clothing was the only thing keeping Declan from pulling the plug on your hiring. He knew you’d opt for something no-fuss. Conservative, even. Something that would keep his regretful, wandering eye at bay. He just didn’t expect you to make conservative look so fucking sexy.

“Knock, knock,” you greet him, materialising in his office’s doorway. You’re dressed head-to-toe in black: black wide-leg trousers, matching blazer and black Rolling Stones concert T-shirt stamped with the band’s trademark logo. Your hair falls in loose waves, and you’ve accessorised with black pumps, and a megawatt smile lined with crimson red lipstick.

Declan’s breathing hitches. He never stood a bloody chance.

Despite the awkward note you ended your last encounter on, you bury the uneasy feeling as you step into your new boss’ quarters. “Is that mine?” You gesture to where Declan had Seb set up a desk for you in the far corner. He naively thought it would be more efficient to have you work from his office than out on the floor with the rest of the staff, but his cock throbbing against the inside of his zipper now said otherwise.

“Er, no,” Declan says, scrubbing at his freshly shaven jaw. “That’s just—it’s not… I was just trying something out. Redecorating, or something.”

He keeps bumbling excuses while he ushers you out the door. He doesn’t stop until he reaches a desk that clearly belongs to someone else, littered with spreadsheet papers stained with coffee cup rings.

“You can set up here. I’ll have a couple tasks for you soon. I just need to take care of a few things first,” Declan snipes, stalking back to his office before you can get a word in. You tail him, his pert arse in his slacks barely a blip on your radar.

“Are you alright?” you question, your mind straying to the hot tub.

“Yeah, fine. Just grand,” Declan feigns, refusing to meet your eye while he pretends to busy himself with tidying his desk.

“Can I get you anything?” 

A new assistant. “Just a coffee. Black, one sugar. Thanks.”

You can hear Tony Baddingham’s scaly laugh all the way down the hall as you return to Declan’s office. The Corinium director is sprawled out in his chair while his star talent leans against the window frame, cigarette hanging idly from his lips.

“Ah, hello again,” Tony croons your name and you recoil at the sound of it on his tongue. You can feel his eyes trained on your body as you cross the room and place Declan’s coffee beside him on the window sill. He doesn’t thank you, just grunts around his durry. It pisses you off. If he’s uncomfortable around you after what happened at The Priory, so be it. But you’re being professional. Would it kill him to do the same?

You turn your attention back to Tony. “Lord Baddingham. How are you?”

“Better now,” he confesses, rising from Declan’s seat. His stature is imposing as he moves around the desk towards you until you have to tip your head back to look up at him. “It’s good to see Declan made the right decision with his assistant. Though I have to admit, I was hoping you’d wear something a little more like what you had on the last time we met.” He edges closer to Declan, jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow like they’re sharing an inside joke. “A little less Boy George, if you know what I’m saying?” Tony chuckles like he’s just cracked the world’s most hilarious one liner. Your tongue burns to scold him. If it were a grimy git at the local pub who had tried that, you wouldn’t hesitate to tell him where to shove it. While Tony Baddingham was a grimy git and then some, he was also the one to sign off on your future paychecks. So, an obligatory smile will have to do.

Declan isn’t as forgiving. “It’s not a fucking fashion show, Tony,” he snaps.  “She’s here to do research, not walk a bloody runway.” 

“And I don’t disagree with you, Declan, but this is my station, she’s my staff and I’m telling her to wear something more appealing. Just like what you wore to your interview. Now, that,” he leers down at you, and you wonder if he can see the fury buzzing through you. “That was something.” 

“Alright, Tony, that’s enough.” Declan flicks his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk and steps between you and Baddingham. He keeps his eyes on you over Declan’s shoulder, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

Declan squares his shoulders, jutting his head toward the door — a silent instruction to his superior. “I’ll see to her, okay?”

As Tony moves out of your immediate vicinity, his gaze rolls down your entire frame before huffing a one syllable laugh. “I’m sure you will,” he tells Declan, then: “My office. Five minutes. Cameron has some evil genius plan for ratings.”

You spend the better part of the morning waiting, making yourself a coffee, then waiting again for Declan to reappear from Tony’s office. He’s yet to return by half-eleven, at which point you stalk back into his office to make yourself at least somewhat busy. You begin emptying his ashtray and clearing his desk of empty coffee cups (and the occasional whiskey glass) before making a start on organising the tree of papers scattered across the rich timber. Half word-processed, the majority strewn with Declan’s skittish handwriting. At the bottom of the mess is some semblance of a to-do list with bullet points in no rational order.

Research agriculture.

Follow up Rupert Campbell-Black wife.

Lunch. Sinister.

Details. Westland. Michael Heseltine.

You doubt Declan has time to even touch any of those tasks with him being MIA all morning, so you park yourself in his desk chair and get to work.

“If I didn’t love this bloody job so much, I’d have half the mind to quit.” The string of Irish twang startles you from your notepad, and Declan appears equally as surprised to see you perched in his place. With a furrow in his brow, he scans the room. “You cleaned up?” He can’t recall a time his office had been as tidy.

“Thought I’d better make myself busy,” you tell him, popping up from the leather seat with your notes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I made a few calls based on your to-do list. No answer from the former Mrs Campbell-Black but I might’ve got somewhere with the Westland research.” You tilt the yellow paper pad in Declan’s direction, thrusting it into his hands despite the scepticism that paints his face. You chew the inside of your cheek while he reviews your notes, only stopping when he looks at you blankly. You can’t tell whether he’s going to thank you for your patience or fire you for sifting through his things.

“You did this? Today?”

You nod.

“Christ almighty. What on earth have I done without you all this time?” 

You grin, warmth flooding through you with the inadvertent praise. “Suffered?” you jest.

“I’m afraid suffering is part and parcel of the job,” Declan counters, not mentioning how much suffering is ahead for him with you now a part of his team. “You should head home. It’s getting late.” He looks at the window, where the late winter sun has set.

“I was always told to never leave before your boss.” “Darlin’, if that was the case, you’d be here ‘til morning. So, go on,” he swats at your arm with the notepad. “Get home.”

Without another word, you gather up your things — not much, a water bottle and small assortment of pens scattered across Declan’s desk — and throw a small bye in your boss’ direction.

“Don’t worry about Tony,” Declan calls after you. “He was bang out of order.”

You swivel, lean up against the doorframe.“And if he barges in again demanding I wear something more likely to land me on the cover of Playboy?”

A glimmer of you in black garters and barely there lingerie snaps through Declan’s brain. “That’s not what he meant.”

“Isn’t it?” Your arms fold across you. You had a point, and Declan knew it. Tony would have every woman in this office under the age of forty strutting around in nothing but heels and a thong if he could. 

“I’ll deal with him,” the Irishman settles on. He’s rather you covered up for him than dressed down for someone else. “You have my word.”

You bid Declan goodnight with one final, tight-lipped smile, offering the same to Deirdre and Daisy on your way to the elevator.

Outside, the sky is littered with stars, though their brightness is dulled by the stadium-worthy fluorescent lights beaming down on the carpark. There are far fewer cars left in the lot than there were this morning, so you make a beeline across the concrete to where your plum-coloured Vauxhall is sat on the outskirts. You savour the tiny bit of warmth the cab has preserved over the day as you shove the key into the ignition and—

Nothing.

You turn the key over again and get nothing but a singular clank from somewhere under the hood in return.

You try three more times only to get the same result.

Shit. 

You scan the carpark for someone who might be able to help but at this time of night, the chances are slim. Sliding out from your seat, you round the front of your car and unclip the hood, though you have zero clue what exactly it is you’re looking at. You didn’t grow up with a father who’d taught you how to refill your oil or check for leaks. You don’t think you ever saw him with a tool in his hand once. Your parents always sent away for things to get fixed and now, you were cursing them for not imparting an integral practical life skill on you.

“I thought I told you to go home.”

“Jesus Christ!” Your hand flies to your heart as Declan falls into position next to you. “You really need to stop doing that.”

A chuckle wracks through him, his shoulder jostling up against yours. “Car troubles?”

“I think it’s carked it. The ignition won’t turn over.”

“Shove over.” He motions for you to step aside, handing you his briefcase as you comply. A few minutes pass as Declan jostles metal pipes and knocks his knuckles against others, black grease working its way onto his skin. Eventually he steps back and pushes the hood closed with a clatter.

“Yeah, she’s knackered,” he declares, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Grab your things. I’ll drive you home tonight.”

“I can’t believe I’m asking favours on my first day,” you mutter, thanking Declan for what feels like the tenth time in the few minutes you’ve been sitting in his Clubman.

“You’re not askin’. I’m offerin’,” he tells you without taking his eyes off the road. You study him as he drives, all stoic and permanently etched with determination. His knuckles are white as large hands grip the steering wheel, silver wedding band glinting under the streetlights. In the small confines of the car, Declan’s overwhelmed by the soft jasmine scent of your perfume. It reminds him of a breeze through a sunlit garden in summer — fresh, but warm. Inviting, even, making him want to pull over and nuzzle into the crook of your neck so he drowns in it. He clears his throat as the need sets in, filing through his thoughts for something to distract him.

“Your family visit you much?” is what he decides on when he realises he knows little to nothing about you.

“Not at all,” you tell him, a sad laugh tumbling out after your admission. “My father’s a lawyer and my mother’s a psychologist, so they don’t really get much time away. When they do, they’d rather jet off to Spain or Greece or somewhere equally as picturesque.”

“You’re joking.” Declan’s disbelief tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You, coming from the likes of Baddingham and Co?” He had a hard time placing you within the wealth of the city. You were just so humble. So grounded.

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yeah, kind of.” “Don’t hold it against me.”

Hold your parents against you? No. Though there were other things that could tempt Declan if he just let himself go.

“But you’re so…” He steals a peek at you, then back to the road, considering his words.

“Go on, I can take it,” you say, anticipating a verbal blow.

I bet you can, he shamelessly admits to himself. Then, out loud: “You’re just not an arsehole, that’s all. Rich folk are usually right pricks.”

You can attest to that. Your parents easily fall into that category. “That might just be the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“And you don’t have a boyfriend? No uppity intellectual waiting for ya back in the city?” Declan doesn’t know why he asks. You’ve not sent away for anybody, not that he would’ve noticed, but he was sure he’d have heard about a boyfriend in all the hours you spent at The Priory.

“Not anymore.” You say quietly, trilling over the dry skin peeling away at your thumb. Not anymore. Your admission shouldn’t send Declan’s pulse galloping like a racehorse. 

You continue to divulge about Samuel, who you’d met in your second year media law lecture at university.. “His ego didn’t allow for two smart people in the relationship. You know, he told me that my intelligence is what drew him to me in the first place, but turns out he couldn’t handle it in the long run. Everything became a competition and it rotted our relationship from the inside out.”

“Hope you sent him packing.”

You shake your head. “He cut me loose, can you believe it? Got the shits when I got the internship at The Times over him.” As you roll over the hill leading to the village, the Clubman splutters when Declan changes gear, masking the fucking idiot that falls from his lips. How could any man not want you? The notion was beyond him.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Boys never know what they want,” Declan imparts.

A scoff scratches your throat. “What, and men do?”

You have Declan on that one. He glances at you in the passenger seat, then thinks of the years’ old snapshot of Maud that lives in his wallet.

No, no they don’t.

“I’m just up here on the left.” You gesture to the strip of shops on the left a few moments later. Declan pulls the Clubman to the curb and flicks the engine off. He arches over the steering wheel to get a look at your building through the windscreen, scepticism colouring his features. 

“You live in the butcher’s?”

“I live above the butcher’s.”

“Must smell like a slaughterhouse in there.” 

“Sometimes. It’s not all bad. The man who runs it, Mr Green, gives me a discount on meat. Chucks in a few extra sausages free of charge.”

“Free sausages, eh? Living the life.”

“Well, they’re Lincolnshire, so I’ll say.” That earns a chuckle from your boss, followed by a too right in agreement. You click off your seatbelt and gather your bag in your lap. “Well, thanks again. I appreciate it, Declan.”

“No bother. I’ll swing past in the morning and pick you up.”

You rear back at his offer. “You don’t have to do that. I can get a taxi. Catch the bus.”

“The buses around here are as late as a pregnant woman’s period. Taxi will cost you a small fortune. I’ll pick you up.” There’s no room for discussion or pushback as the Clubman roars back to life. “Seven forty-five, alright?”

Declan wasn’t expecting to have a heart attack before eight AM the following morning, nor was he expecting you to heed Tony’s suggestion, when you step out from your flat in a skirt that cuts mid-thigh, sheer tights and a skin-tight red turtleneck sweater, paired with knee-high black boots. You won’t lie: complying with Tony’s request made your skin itch, but you had a job to do, and you couldn’t do it with Tony constantly breathing down your neck. Declan’s eyes trail over the sheen of your thighs when you slide into the Mini, mouth going dry at the view. He’s about to chide you, make a comment about you already bowing down to the big boss. Then you bring up Michael Heseltine and the Westland notes again, offering your thoughts, and he’s taken again by how fucking clever you are. He can practically hear the cogs in your brain working as he drives you both to Corinium. You sing along to Paul Simon and Heart between ideas, your manicured nails thrumming on your knee in time to the music. 

Declan tells you he’s organised for your car to be towed and fixed up by a local mechanic — a friend who owes me a favour, he says when you protest — and that the work will take a couple of weeks. And so, Tuesday marks the first time in a long time that Declan consistently leaves the office at a reasonable hour, and driving you quickly becomes his favourite part of his days. The pair of you chat about everything under the sun, from your upbringings — you in upper class London and he in backwoods Ireland — to your favourite musicians — George Michael for you, Nat King Cole for him. You don’t ask about Maud and Declan makes no mention of her either, diverting the conversation when anything rears too close to their relationship. He’d much rather talk about his kids; complimenting Taggie’s cooking and homeliness, repeating some crazy story he’d heard from Caitlin when she’d called from boarding school, or bragging about Patrick’s accolades at university. While he was certainly stubborn and sometimes cold, Declan’s love for his children pared all of that back, revealing a proud and honest father. It was one of, if not, your favourite thing about him.

The two weeks your car was in the shop went by too fast for either of your liking, the drives to and from Corinium just not quite feeling right without the other. Your perfume lingers in the Mini, the result of your constant presence, every bit of you woven into the fabric of the seats. If Declan just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, it’s like you’re still right there next to him, humming along to the radio or trying to pitch him wild guests for his show. You miss his dorky dad jokes, and Declan misses you giggling at them, your laugh a melody that warmed him from the inside out. You were still at The Priory often enough, helping Taggie prepare catering or the two of you lounging about watching Four Men Went To Mow, but it wasn’t the same for Declan. He much preferred having you to himself. 

While you became more comfortable with each other outside of hours, you and Declan also settled into a rhythm in the office. You fed off one another’s creativity, bolstering ideas and show notes until they were airtight. It only took a week for Declan to relent and set you up at the spare desk. It was easier having you nearby rather than constantly moving between his office whenever you had something to add to your findings. You’d also kept up your more put-together wardrobe; tight skirts, and blouses, and high heels. Not that Declan was complaining, but it made his life just that little bit harder, made him more than a little hot under the collar, whenever you bent over to retrieve a box of files or leaned over his desk to show him some of your findings.

There was a lot you loved about your job — the ability to ogle Declan across his office being up there — but you lived for Thursday nights when Declan’s show aired. Watching it from home on your TV set was one thing, but seeing it unfold live in the studio was beyond your imagination. It was incredible seeing your work behind the scenes put into action, and it was made all the better by Declan; always charismatic, stern and unwavering when the time called for it. He was magic, and no matter how hard you tried, you never could seem to wipe the grin off your face while you stood watching on the sidelines, and Declan loved to see it whenever he glanced in your direction. 

It was rare, unheard of, even, for someone to receive praise from Declan, the journalist’s standards so high that he rarely found anyone who could meet them. But somehow, you did. Your research was thorough, always annotated with further notes and references. You weren’t afraid to get on the phones and track down sources. His show, already a success, was made infinitely better by your addition. Not to mention, your coffee was fantastic. Not even in twenty years of marriage had Maud managed to perfect his preference. Still, he rarely raised his satisfaction with you, a simple good or thanks sufficing. No, he saved his satisfaction for moments he was alone. He’d officially given up willing his throbbing cock to flaccidity when thoughts of you creeped in during the quiet hours, allowing himself the quick gratification before the shame set in.

About a month into your tenure at Corinium, Declan was in a foul pit of a mood. He’d barged into his office already on the warpath. He barked orders at you and spent the better part of the morning criticising an upcoming guest, when he’d spent the previous day praising him. He even had you remake his coffee four times after complaints that it was too sweet or too cold or some other ridiculous excuse, despite making it the same way you did everyday. By the time four PM rolled around, you could count on one hand the times Declan had actually looked at you, each time egged on by a scowl. In your short time at the company, and with Taggie’s advice, you’d learned to let your boss be when the stress of the job got to him. Even if you’d built enough rapport to tell him to pull his head in.

It wasn’t until you were leaving for the day that Declan spoke to you without a growl in his voice. “You did grand today,” he says, the comment shocking you as you stood up from your seat. “I know I’ve been an arse all day. I’m sorry. You did a fantastic job, really.” His dark features were soft as he peered up at you from his desk.

“Mr O’Hara, are you paying me a compliment?” You feign shock, hand flush against your chest as you pretend to be scandalised.

“Don’t get used to it,” he tells you, a smile ghosting over his lips. He turns back to his notes,  but unbeknownst to you, he’s unable to read the muddled words on the page, his brain fixated on the way you cooed Mr O’Hara. All breathy and innocent and unintentionally sultry. You made his name yours.

He hates how much he loves it.

When Declan pulls up to The Priory that night, your Vauxhall is in the drive, and his one thought is that he can’t do this tonight. Can’t do you tonight. It’s late, already half-ten by the time he’s slugging through the door, temples throbbing with a Baddingham-induced headache only made worse by the Duran Duran blasting through the house. 

“Taggie!” he booms, dumping his briefcase and corduroy jacket on a chair by the staircase. All he wants is a shower and a whiskey, maybe a cigar, in bed, and he’ll be damned if he does it with the walls of his home rattling to the soundtrack of his daughter’s mixtape. Declan trudges upstairs, lethargy weighing his legs down as he stalks down the hall towards Taggie’s bedroom. Light pours out of the half-open door, followed by your laughter. “Taggie, Jesus fucking Christ, can you turn that bloody racket—”

The rest of the sentence dies on his tongue when you step into view, your back to the door. The black dress you’d worn to the office is discarded on the floor, the full expanse of your body of full display, safe for a plain black bra and matching high-waisted underwear.

“I don’t know, Tag,” Declan hears you say over the music. “Red or black?” You stretch your arm out of sight to retrieve two short dresses that you then hold up against your body. Freddie Jones had invited all of the neighbouring families and friends to Bar Sinister on Friday night for drinks and karaoke, and you were struggling to decide what to wear. Your usual jeans and tee getups were too casual, and your work attire was too, well, work. The stereo clicks, swapping out Rio for Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name, pulling a squeal from the back of your throat. 

“I love this song!” you announce, pipping up and down to the beat. Your back arches slightly with each little leap, the ripple of your muscles accentuated every time you hit the creaking floorboards. He feels like a creep, lurking in the shadows, continuing to watch you through the ajar door as you dance around the room in nothing but your underwear, but he can’t tear his eyes from you. Declan worries his bottom lip between his teeth at the sight of your legs, looking impossibly longer now without clothing, and where they stretch into the sweep of your arse. He wants to take you into his mouth, bite down on your supple flesh, hard, before soothing the inevitable red mark with a sloppy kiss. His cock rouses at the temptation, the feeling of his pulsating tip pushing against his trousers making it difficult for him not to march straight into Taggie’s room and swoop you away to his own so he can show you what he thinks about all day while you’re across his office. 

Reality wracks the back of Declan’s mind. What the fuck is he doing? He if had a pound for every time he caught himself leering at you, feeling that heat coil in him until there was nothing left to do but steal himself away to privacy and relieve himself like a sex-obsessed teenager, he’d have enough to pay of his family’s London leaving debt and then some.

Sometime later, once Declan had gathered enough sense, enough strength, to tear himself away from his post outside Taggie’s door, the music in her room recedes low enough that you and your friend can hear each other without yelling.

“I’m going to head home,” you tell Taggie, sluffing out of the robe she let you borrow and back into the ribbed black dress you’d picked out that morning. “Early morning tomorrow and I do not want to catch your dad in another one of his moods again.”

“Fair enough,” your friend relents, passing you the outfits you’d narrowed your options down to. You shove them into your bag, which is already busy with notepads and teabags you bring from home, and tug Taggie into a hug, whispering a farewell into her mess of tawny hair. You slip into the hall and pull her door shut, the walkway enveloped in darkness aside from the small flood of yellow light beaming around the corner. As you head towards the stairs, you notice the light is coming from Declan’s bedroom, where he was probably reading one of those many memoirs or pouring over notes for his show tomorrow night, during which he’d interview the Bishop of London, Right Reverend Graham Leonard. He definitely had a whiskey in hand or by his bedside, and you’re put in mind again of that night the pair of you were in the yard. The memory elicits goosebumps as you pass through the sliver of light and by Declan’s quarters. It’s not until you’re nearing the top of the staircase that you hear a grunt that halts.

What was that?

The noise rouses again, though this time it’s more like a groan, echoing from the room you just passed. You backtrack a few steps — you know you should just be on your way, but you can’t help yourself — and peer into Declan’s room through the slight crack in the door. He’s turned away from you, bracing himself against the dresser by the window. He’s shirtless, and far more tanned than you’d expect for somebody living in England, his back all corded muscle and shoulder blades that pinch together with rigorous movement. His trousers hang low on his hips, low enough that the top of his arse is visible over the waistband, a sparse trail of coarse black hair blooming on his lower back. Under the light, sweat prickles on the back of his neck, and another moan slips from him as he pumps his right arm up and down. It’s only then that you realise what you’ve stumbled upon.

Declan’s none the wiser that you’re watching him the same way he’d done to you not much earlier. His eyes are clamped shut, shielding you from the anguish and pure filth they’re laden with while he lets desire run its course. His breathing is turning almost whimper-like with his frantic movements, while yours shakes deep in your stomach. Saliva pools around your dumb tongue, mouth lax as you observe Declan fist himself with so much savagery his whole body is shaking. It’s like a trainwreck you can’t look away from. A delicious, sordid trainwreck hurtling towards an explosive end.

Then you hear it. Only just. Your name slips from his lips so quietly you wonder if you made it up. 

It’s not the first time Declan has allowed you ownership over him as he tugs himself raw. He’d tried to deny it, tried to morph your image in his mind into Maud’s but it was no use. He was stupid for you. If it’s just him, his hand and his mind, who is it hurting? Nobody has to know. 

But now you do. You know what Declan looks like coming undone, and it’s abundantly clear that it’s you spurring on his animalistic display. An odd sort of pride shoots through you, heat blooming at your core, pussy clenching around nothing as Declan seethes oh, fuck, your name flying out his mouth amid a string of obscenities as he comes. Hot, white ropes spurt over his fist and down his aching length, and his heart bucks against his ribcage as his climax rolls through him, vision flanked white from the intensity of his orgasm. It takes Declan a few moments to gather himself, to come down from his high. He has to squint once he opens his eyes, the well-lit room a stark contrast to the dark corners of his mind. His back burns, as if someone’s stare is boring into him, and his attention snaps to where he foolishly left his door ajar. But the hallway is empty, and he hears your car chug to life in the driveway, followed by the unmistakable crunch of gravel under its tyres.

Eeeeeeeeek, now we're getting somewhere! Thank you for reading! Don't forget to like, comment, reblog if you loved this chapter as much as I did writing it hehe

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview, Chapter 2: Beneath The Surface

[landososcar]

packing it up ; LN4

— pairing(s) ; college hockey player!lando x figure skater!reader

— summary ; in which lando's transfer to a new school not only brings him a new team, classes, and friends, but a girl who will change his life forever.

— warnings ; not edited, i'm not american, im also not a figure skater so there's probs plenty of inaccuracies lolll

chapter two — prev … next

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

that night, i couldn’t stop replaying the dinner conversation in my head. lily’s unwavering support wasn’t surprising—she’d always been in my corner—but lando? his empathy had caught me completely off guard. i didn’t know if it made me feel comforted or embarrassed. 

as i lay in bed staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

i sat up, my heart skipping a beat as i reread the message. my thumbs hovered over the screen, but i had no idea how to respond. why would lando go out of his way to talk to his mum about me? we weren’t close; i barely knew him.

but as i put my phone down, a spark of hope flickered in my chest.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

the next morning, i returned to the rink, throwing myself into practice with a determination that bordered on desperation. the icy air bit at my cheeks as i glided across the ice, pushing my body to its limits. the rhythmic sound of my blades slicing through the rink was usually soothing, but today it wasn’t enough to quiet my thoughts and the knot in my chest wouldn’t loosen.

i was mid-spin when a warm, unfamiliar voice called out from the edge of the rink.

“beautiful form.” startled, i faltered slightly but regained my balance before turning toward the source. a woman stood near the boards, dressed in a stylish coat and scarf, her posture poised and confident. there was something familiar about her—the same warm eyes, the same gentle smile, “you must be y/n.”

i skated over, unsure of what to say. “that’s me. and you are...?”

“cisca norris,” she said, extending a hand. “lando’s mum. he told me a bit about your situation, and i thought i’d come take a look.”

my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “oh, i—he didn’t need to do that.”

she smiled kindly. “he’s a good boy, my lando. and a little stubborn when he wants to help. i’m glad he told me, though. i can see you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” i said, still feeling flustered. “but i don’t even have a partner or a coach anymore. i’m kind of stuck.”

her expression softened. “you’re not stuck. you’re just at a crossroads. if you’re willing to put in the work, i’d be happy to help.”

“you’d... coach me?” my voice cracked slightly, disbelief colouring the words. i didn’t know what to say – i didn’t want to be a burden to her, and i didn’t know how to repay her.

she nodded. “i haven’t coached in years, but i still know what it takes. and i’ve got a really good feeling about you, y/n.”

i blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion. “thank you, b-but i don’t know how to repay you for this… i don’t know what to say.”

“say you’ll show up tomorrow ready to work,” she said smiling, “we’ll take it one step at a time.” i nodded almost desperately and she must’ve seen the water brimming on my eyes because she went to pull me into a hug, “and as for payment,” she said gently, “just make sure my son is feeling at home, would you?”

i laughed softly, wiping my eyes. “i was gonna do that anyway.”

“i thought you might say that,” she said with a smile, brushing an invisible strand of hair from my face before we parted.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

as i got back to my dorm for the night, i was greeted by my best friend’s beautiful smile. lily was sprawled across her bed, headphones on and sketchbook in hand, her pencil moving in quick, confident strokes.

she looked up as i closed the door behind me, her eyes lighting up. “hey! how was the rink?”

i kicked off my shoes, my heart still buzzing from the day’s events. “you’re not going to believe this.”

her eyebrows shot up in intrigue as she sat up straighter. “spill. right now.”

i tossed my bag onto my bed and sank into the desk chair, still trying to process everything myself. “okay, so... lando talked to his mum about me. apparently, she’s a former skating coach.”

lily’s jaw dropped. “no way.”

“and not only that—she came to the rink today. she offered to coach me, lily. can you believe it? out of nowhere, she just... showed up and said she wanted to help.”

for a moment, lily just stared at me, then she let out an excited squeal, throwing her arms in the air. “i knew it! i told you lando was the best! and his mum? she sounds like an actual legend.”

i laughed, her enthusiasm infectious. “she is. i mean, she’s amazing. the way she coaches, the way she just... believes in me. i don’t even know how to thank her—or him, for that matter.”

lily rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hands. “you thank her by killing it at practice tomorrow. and as for lando...” she smirked mischievously. “you could always bake him cookies or something. or, you know, just say thank you like a normal person.”

i rolled my eyes, though i couldn’t help but smile. “i’ll figure it out. but honestly, it feels like things might actually be looking up for the first time in forever.”

lily beamed at me, her expression softening. “of course they are. you’re incredible, y/n. you just needed the right people in your corner. and now you’ve got them.”

warmth spread through me, easing some of the tension that had been weighing me down for weeks. i didn’t say it out loud, but lily’s unwavering belief in me meant just as much as cisca’s. maybe, just maybe, she was right. maybe things really were finally looking up.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

the next morning, i arrived at the rink early, my nerves humming with anticipation as i laced up my skates, the sharp cold of the ice already creeping through my layers. today wasn’t just another practice.it was the first step toward figuring out my future—and maybe, just maybe, rebuilding what i thought i’d lost.

as i stood on the ice, stretching and warming up, cisca arrived. she walked in with a graceful confidence that made her instantly commanding yet approachable. a small bag hung from her shoulder, and her warm smile made me feel instantly at ease.

“good morning, y/n,” she greeted, her voice as gentle as it had been the day before.

“good morning,” i replied, my voice trembling slightly with nerves.

she set her bag down on the bench and pulled out a notebook, “i have to admit, i missed this,” she said, almost to herself. “it’s been a while since i’ve coached, but it all comes back so easily.”

i couldn’t help but smile, her enthusiasm was a little contagious. “thank you for doing this. it means more to me than i can say.”

she waved a hand dismissively, though her smile softened. “lando said he’s been told you’re very talented,” she paused with a smile, “i think you’ve got some amazing friends willing to help you however they can… let’s get started.”

the next hour passed in a blur of movement and focus, diving into the intricacies of technique. cisca’s coaching style was unlike anything i’d experienced. she was direct, offering feedback that was honest but never harsh. when i struggled with a step or faltered during a spin, she didn’t scold; she analyzed.

“your jump is good, but let’s work on the timing of your takeoff,” she said at one point, skating out onto the ice to demonstrate. “if you push off too early, you lose momentum. watch me.”

she executed the jump with ease, landing gracefully and turning back to me with an encouraging nod. “now you.”

i tried again, this time paying closer attention to her tips, and when i landed smoothly, she clapped lightly. “there it is! perfect.”

her praise sent a swell of pride through me, something i hadn’t felt in months. maria had always been strict and demanding, rarely offering compliments unless the move was flawless. with cisca, it felt different. her belief in me wasn’t conditional; it was unwavering.

by the end of the session, my muscles ached in a satisfying way, and my spirits were higher than they’d been in weeks. i sat on the bench unlacing my skates when cisca joined me, her expression thoughtful.

“you’re a hard worker,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence. “that’s a quality even the most talented skaters can lack. if you keep that up, you’re going to go far.”

i looked at her, unsure how to put my gratitude into words. “thank you,” i said, my voice soft. “for everything. i don’t know how to repay you.”

her hand rested lightly on mine, her touch warm and reassuring. “you don’t owe me anything, y/n. i’m happy to help. and honestly,” she added with a playful smile, “you’ve already made it worth my while just by showing up and giving it your all.”

i chuckled, feeling my cheeks warm. “still... thank you.”

she leaned back slightly, her gaze turning more serious. “and don’t forget what i said yesterday—make sure lando feels at home here. he’s putting on a brave face, but i know my son. he’s adjusting, too.”

the mention of lando made me pause, her words stirring something in me. “i will,” i promised. “he’s been so kind to me already. he must get it from you.”

cisca smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that reminded me of lando. “he’s got his moments,” she said with a wink.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

later that afternoon, i found myself walking back toward the skating arena. lando had practice, and while i hadn’t planned on going, cisca’s words lingered in my mind. i owed him at least a thank-you.

the unmistakable sound of skates cutting across ice greeted me as i stepped inside. the cold air nipped at my cheeks, but the energy of the rink was infectious. players zipped back and forth, their movements sharp and deliberate, the clatter of sticks and pucks echoing through the space.

it didn’t take long to spot him. lando moved with a precision that stood out, his focus intense as he weaved through the defence. even as someone unfamiliar with hockey, i could tell he was good—really good.

when he skated off the ice for a break, he noticed me standing near the boards. his face lit up with surprise as he walked over, his cheeks flushed from exertion. “y/n! didn’t expect to see you here.”

i smiled, feeling slightly awkward because of the other men around us, but pushing through it. “i just wanted to say thank you. for talking to your mum. she’s... amazing. i can’t believe she’s helping me.”

he grinned, leaning casually against the boards. “told you she was the best. so, how’d it go?”

“she’s incredible,” i said earnestly. “i feel like i might actually have a chance now. i don’t know how to repay either of you.”

“you don’t need to,” he said easily. “mum wouldn’t do it if she didn’t believe in you. and honestly, i’m glad i could help. you’ve been through enough.”

his sincerity caught me off guard, and for a moment, i just looked at him, unsure what to say. finally, i smiled. “well, i owe you at least a coffee or something.”

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “i’ll hold you to that.” i laughed, watching him skate back onto the ice with the rest of his team before heading out of the bulky double doors and back to lily and i’s shared dorm. 

later that night, as i laid in bed trying to rid my mind of the pretty boy with the brown curls so i could sleep, my phone lit up with a notification. i sighed and debated on checking it, knowing the light from my phone would completely restart my attempt at sleeping. i grabbed it from the bed side table and couldnt help the upturn of my lips when i saw what it said.

landonorris started following you!

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

a/n ; i’m so sorry this took so long lmaooo chapter 3 is pretty much done so i’ll post it asap (fr this time)

taglist (comment or send an ask to be added<3) ; @leclercdream @britenysbitch @cabbyhabs @jule239 @tvdtw4ever @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @f1and1d4eva @sid-is-gr8

[insight-chronicles]

Chapter 2 - Latte Anyone?

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: Swearing

Summary: Free Chai Latte with your best friend is ruined when Jinwoo shows up with fangirls in tow

Authors Note: Edited on my phone rather than my PC so i could get it up for you guys sooner so sorry if there's any mistakes with spelling/punctuation! Let me know if you find anything and I'll edit!

AO3

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Masterlist

You didn't want to move; you didn't want to think. You just wanted to enjoy your day off without any problems popping up. Everything had been fine, and all was going according to plan. Then, that new mission appeared, and nothing has been quite right since. You supposed it was a demon of your own making; you were so busy worrying about this new player and protecting the system that you didn’t stop to think. Or maybe you weren't thinking enough? See, this was the problem. You just didn't know what to think!

Every other mission, you had gotten side missions or level-ups when you were moving in the right direction, but with this one, you got nothing. The System had just left you in the dark.

You had even tried talking to the System. Or, well, talking into an empty room and hoping to get a response. But nothing. You'd tried it once before when the System had first contacted you, it hadn't worked then either. It was like you had completed a tutorial in a game, and then been dumped in a new area with no direction as to what to do next. You just felt so lost.

But today was Tuesday, and that meant you couldn't stay in bed and mope all day, unfortunately. Every week, you had Tuesdays and Fridays off work. You didn't mind working th weekend as it was usually quieter and allowed you to get more work done that wasn't evaluating hunters. What it being Tuesday meant was, it was your obligatory trip out to your best friends cafe.

In an attempt to stop you from being a total shut-in, Aera lured you down to the cafe with free Chai Lattes, your favourite drink, and hers was the best you had ever tried. Everytime, you attempted to pry the recipe out of her, she would refuse, saying it was the only way to get you out of the house, so why would she tell you. She was right, but that’s not the point. You deserved to know what made her version so damn heavenly.

With the thought of what was waiting for you, you dragged yourself out of bed and had a shower. A shower in the morning on your days off always seemed to refresh you more than any other time, even though the whole process took exactly the same amount of time whenever you did it. Psychology for you.

You dressed casually, in jeans and a dark oversized hoodie, you always relished your comfort clothes when you could wear them even though you liked to look smart and put together at work. A small spattering of makeup, which consisted of some mascara and a touch of tinted lipgloss. You loved a dark lip, but that was more for evenings and events, not popping down to the local coffee shop, so a tinted lip balm or gloss was your goto. Styling your hair is never as fun as people make out, you put in the effort when you had somewhere special to be, but in the day to day, dry and brushed was the standard. Happy the outfit worked together you left the bedroom heading towards the kitchen deciding to have breakfast first before you went out, that way you missed the worst of the morning rush and would be gone before the lunch rush began.

When you first started this routine, it had taken you a few traumatising visits before you got your timings right so the cafe wasn't too packed but still satified your friend that you were being social. You had also tried going on Fridays but the cafe was packed all day from open to close on a Friday and Saturday so that also ended in a failed attempt and quiet nearly a nervous breakdown on your part thanks to all the emotions that bombarded you at once as you walked through the door. It was always harder to deal with emotions in enclosed spaces than when you were out in the open.

Aera, of course, doesnt know why you can't stand crowds of people all she knows is that for some reason around a year and half ago it started to become harder and harder for you to be in crowds. She's been so supportive and is trying to help you in the only way she knows how and that just makes you love her more, even if she is a nosey gossip.

With breakfast made you take it to the sofa so you can catch up on your favourte programme before someone you follow on socal media spoils it for you. As you flick to the right streaming service you eyes catch on the book case, or more importantly on the medical books that line the bottom shelves, the memories flow back thick and fast.

As an E-Rank Healer you magic was pretty useless, but that didn't mean you had to be useless. Unlike most healers, who relied on their power, you went out of your way to learn everything you could about healing and medicine. You did every course short of becoming an actual doctor. All so you could help him. All so you could keep him alive. He meant everything to you but in the end it wasn't enough. You weren't enough.

A single tear escaped, sliding down your cheek. You wiped it away angrily. Annoyed your emotions had gotten the better of you again. This was why so many people had advised against you becoming a hunter, you were too soft. Overly emotional. Not cut out for the violence of a gate. They thought they were all proved right when you quit hunting and joined the archive team for Assocation but they don't know the real reason you stopped going into gates. Something you felt was much worse then all the bloodshed you had seen inside them. Becuase unlike what people assumed, you lived by a hunters moto “What happens in a Gate stays in a Gate”. You could compartmentalise better then anyone you knew, the fights and the bloodshed was almost easy to forget, after all you never got that attached to people. Aera and Him were the only people you have ever felt something for deeply aside from your parents and He had left, even after promising to never leave you. He broke his promise.

Dropping your head onto the back of the sofa, you let out an annoyed cry. Why does the memory of him always have a way of popping up when you need it the least? You know you should probably have thrown the books out, or at least donated them, but you just couldn't bring yourself to. There was something that made you want to hold on to them. Maybe the memories of the past, when things were better.

An hour later, you’re still staring at the ceiling, your breakfast lay untouched beside you.

The cafe is a short walk from your apartment, a walk you could do blinfolded thanks to Aera living above, and you hating people in your apartment so always meeting at hers. Another one of yur quirks that Aera just accepts.

With a deep breath to prepare yourself to the onslaught of emotions you were about to face, you walk through the door. A bell jingles to alert the staff of your presence.

Hae-Won Cafe was a small, simple affair whos decor lent to both the name of the cafe and the owners name. Styled with vines of cherry blossom and lanterns, Area had some how brought the outside in, making it feel like you were sat out in a garden in the spring time despite knowing you were in the middle of the city. It created a very romantic location that was a go-too place for dates and even proposals. Aera had a wall in her office covered in pictures of all the proposals that had been accepted at the cafe.

“Ahhh there you are!” Aera called across the room, making a few of the patrons already seated glance up before realising nothing special had happened and they could return to their drinks without missing something..

“Here I am.” Your face gave the impression that you had just eaten a sour piece fo fruit as the emotions of the room settled into you psyche, there was definitely at least one date happening in the cafe right now. and you hopped by the feelings you were getting that it was not a first.

“Seo-yeon, can you make us a Chai Latte, and I'll take a Green Tea.” The barista nodded that she understood before turning to fulfill the order “Thanks, darling, we'll just be over in the booth in the corner.” Aera called over her shoulder as she pulled you over to your usual booth. Situated in a quieter corner of the cafe where you were able to see everything going on in the cafe as well as the street beyond the store front. “Soo, how have you been?”

“I've been good.” There was something about Aera that just made you smile whenever she was around. “How about you?”

“Ah, ah, ah, you're not getting away with it that easily. Details, darling!” You rolled your eyes, you should have known. Aera was anything but easy to please, a perfectionist and gossip by nature, she was always looking for the next story and is only satisfied with all the details.

“Honestly I've been good, nothing to tell.” You try again, never one for sharing your feelings. She just continues to look at you expectantly. Damn. Sigh, “I've been busy, the Chairman's got a new assignment for me but…” you shrug.

“But…” Aera tries to coax more out of you. “What, girl, give me something! By the looks of your face, it's not more of that stuffy archive stuff you love, so it must be juicy.” She looks like a cat that caught the canary.

“Uhh, yeah not more archive stuff. Chairman Go wants me to find out more about Sung Jinwoo.”

“That sounds like boring archive stuff?”

“He wants me to do it by getting close to him.” You grimace. Aeras mouth dropped open, forming an O shape, she stayed like that for a few moments before getting herself together to continue her questioning.

“Wait, hang on a second, Chairman Go, wants you to get “close” to Sung Jinwoo,” you nod, “As in the most notorius S-Rank Hunter to probably have ever existed?”

“Exaggerate much” you laugh, shaking your head at your friend.

“No but seriously? You have to get close to Sung Jinwoo! How are you going to do that?” Just then, Seo-yeon placed your drinks on the table, “Thank you darling” Aera then lent forward, elbows on the table eager to hear the plan you didn't have.

“Umm. I dont really have a plan aside avoid Hunter Sung and trying to get others to reveal what happened on Jeju Island during the media blackouts in the hope I can figure out the extent of his power myself.�� It was said in a rush as if you hopped that it would sound like a logical plan if you said ti fast enough. But you reaslised as you said it outloud how hopeful, yet hopeless, your plan was.

“Im sorry, WHAT? That's your plan? To go against the wishes of the Chairman and just hope you can figure it out by yourself? That is a stupid plan.” She said it so matter of factly you just shurgged, What else could you do? “You need to come up with a better plan, preferable one that actually gets Sung Jinwoo to trust you and reveal his secrets.” Just as you were about to respond with some snarky comment about your ability to be social, the barista called across the room at her boss. Aera looked over and saw that was a large queue at the counter.

“Shit, I better go help. We'll have to continue this later.” She stood up, grabbing her green tea to take with her. A thought suddenly occurred to you,

“Aera!” drawing her attention back to you, “I have a lunch date on Friday and I have a feeling none of the clothes I have will be suitable.” You grimace, at the thought of Aera reaction to the date, shopping for the date, or the date itself you weren't sure.

“WHAT!” That was more of a scream then anything else, “YOU HAVE A DATE!” Her eyes ping-ponged between you and the counter debating her options. “This conversation is not over.” She gave you a menacing look and then turned to make her way over the counter to deal with the sudden mass of people. Where had they all come from?

As much as you loved Aera she could be draining at times, the constant questions and happiness sapped your energy, you really didn't have to deal with so mnay more people emotions. You decided to pull your book out of your bag and read for a bit in the hopes it was distracting enough that you could finish your drink without getting overwhelmed by the number of people now in the cafe. With any luck by the time you were ready to leave, Aera would still be busy at the counter and you could leave without her noticing, having the conversation over text would be so much easier then her screaming at you the whole time.

You tried to concentrate on the latest chapter of your book, but the group of girls by the counter were being very loud and giggily. The tangle of emotions coming off them suggested there was something very exciting happening, feelings of nervousness, excitement, and even lust eminated from the group. God, it was bad enough when there was one date happening in the same room as you let alone a group of people all trying to get the attention of someone. It was too much. You looked over to the gaggle of girls just as they parted and the reason for all their emotions was revealed.

Sung Jinwoo.

Fuck, this could not be happening. The two of you locked eyes across the room, you gave him your best death glare whereas he seemed had a look of confusion and curiosity. Probably because a complete stranger was glaring at him. But for some reason he still took it as an invitation to come to your table.

Watching the faces of the girls fawning around him fall as he made his way to you was almost comical. Pathetic. Before you knew it, Jinwoo stood in front of you, behind him, you could see Aera giving you a thumbs up and an encouraging smile.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” He indicates to the side of the booth that Aera had just vacated. You looked longingly at your Chai Latte and signed, taking one last big gulp before getting up.

“No, you're all good, I was just leaving.” gathering your bag you made to leave.

“You don’t have to go. You just looked like you needed some company.” His eyes were so dejected you almost felt bad, but there was that nagging feeling that you couldn't trust him. Not being able to feel his feelings was so strange. You had spent so long now knowing what people were feeling, not having to trust what they said at face value, that you had forgotten how to read people like you used to. How can you trust someone when you don't know what they feel? You know everyone else has to, but you haven't for so long. Instead, you default to snark and sarcasm.

“Do you often go around telling people they look lonely?” You raise an eyebrow in question.

“Uhh,” he reached up with the hand not holding a drink, and scratched the back of his head, “No I can't say I do. Do you make a habit of running away from people when they approach you?”

“I certainly do when they are people I don't know and they come with a bunch of fangirls.“ You guesture to the women still stood by the counter, half of which were buying drinks with the other half watching your interaction closely.

“Hey, it's not like I invited them. They just seem to appear wherever I go these days.” he seemed embarrassed by them

“You are literally an S-Rank Hunter with superhuman speed, just lose them.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To you, it was.

“It's not that easy.” Apparently you were wrong, “One of them sees me and they post it on social media and suddenly there's a whole group of them. Had to stop them from following me in to a Gate the other day they were so oblivious to their surroundings.” There was a weird combination of a laugh and a head shake in disbelief of the people that fawn over him.

“Too many fan girls and not enough time.” You put on a fake pouty face

“I'd like to set the record straight right now,” He was suddenly serious, his eyes burning into you. “I don't want these fangirls. I never asked for this, and the sooner it calms down, the better. I much preferred being in complete obscurity, but it is what it is, and I have to deal with it.”

“Sure, whatever, I've never met a guy that wouldn't love that attention, so forgive me for not taking what you say at face value.” With renewed energy to turn to leave, only to have your progress stopped by a hand on your arm. Gasps from the fangirls filter across the room, you look down at the hand on your arm before moving your gaze to the face of the man holding you, it took all your will to stop your eyes from glowing green like you know they did when your power was close to the surface.

“I know it's difficult to understand but I would appreciate it if you gave me the benefit of the doubt. At least until you know me.” His eyes were soft, despite not being privy to his feelings you felt like he was being sincere in his confession. He lowered his voice so only you could hear it, it was strangely intimate, “You’ve been on my mind since that night 6 months ago. There was something about you then and there's something about you now, that draws me to you. I want to know you, what you think, what you feel. I want to know what makes you tick. But you have to let me in. I don't know why you don't trust but I promise you, I am someone you can trust.” You snort, unable to stop yourself. His brows furrow in confusion. You rip you arm out of his grip and sneer at him as you walk away.

“I know you plenty.”

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[airandyeah]

Animals (Alpha!Sukuna X Alpha!Toji X Omega!Reader) Pt.8

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club and Sins, where I just mark every chapter as 18+ This also has the general warning of Toji and Sukuna both honestly being menaces. This chapter is suggestive- slightly more than usual lol.

The next day, you woke up later than usual, the sun already spilling golden light through the window. The steady, rhythmic sound of wood being split echoed outside, each crack sharp against the otherwise quiet morning.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pushed yourself out of bed and shuffled toward the window. The sight that greeted you had you stopping in your tracks.

Outside, Sukuna and Toji stood near a growing stack of firewood, both stripped down to nothing but their sweatpants, muscles flexing with every swing of the axe. Toji, ever efficient, made clean, powerful cuts, splitting logs with ease. Sukuna, on the other hand, looked like he was enjoying himself, a smirk playing on his lips as he worked, relishing the destruction of the wood beneath his blade.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling far too warm. This was not what you expected to wake up to.

For a moment, you just watched—because really, how could you not? The way their bodies moved, the sheer strength behind every motion, the light sheen of sweat glistening on their skin. It was almost unfair.

Then, as if sensing your eyes on them, Sukuna suddenly glanced up, locking onto you with a knowing smirk. “Enjoying the show, sweetheart?” he called, voice dripping with amusement.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I just woke up. I wasn’t expecting that to be the first thing I saw.”

Toji didn’t even pause in his chopping, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. “Could’ve slept through it if you weren’t so nosy,” he remarked.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat on your face betrayed you. “Right. Well, I’m going inside before I have to start paying admission.”

Sukuna barked out a laugh as you turned away, but you swore you heard him murmur, “Bet you’ll still be thinking about it, though.”

And annoyingly enough… he wasn’t wrong.

Settling onto the couch, you pulled your laptop onto your lap and opened a well-worn Google Doc—one you’d been working on for what felt like forever. The familiar screen filled with words you’d rewritten, edited, and obsessed over countless times.

The story had been a constant in your life, a quiet passion tucked away between responsibilities and distractions. And with everything that had been going on lately—from your car breaking down to being practically forced into staying with two insufferable (and dangerously attractive) alphas—you hadn’t had the time or the mental energy to write.

But now, with the rhythmic thunk of firewood being split outside and the distant hum of the forest, you found yourself staring at the blinking cursor, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You reread the last paragraph. The words felt... distant, like they belonged to someone else. With a sigh, you stretched out your legs, trying to coax the creative energy back. Maybe if you just started typing, something would click.

So you did.

Slowly at first, then faster as the story pulled you in, your fingers moving in a steady rhythm. The real world faded, and for the first time in days, you felt grounded—like you were back in control.

The rhythm was interrupted about two hours later. You hadn’t noticed the door open or the shift in the air. Hadn’t noticed either of them come back inside, leave to change, or even make a sound as they approached.

It wasn’t until the presence of two looming figures cast a shadow over your screen that you stiffened, realizing too late that you weren’t alone.

“What’re you writing?” Toji’s voice was low and amused, dangerously close to your ear.

Sukuna leaned in from the other side, his eyes flicking over the words on the screen. “Tch. You’ve been holed up in this document for hours. Must be something good.”

Your fingers twitched over the keyboard as you quickly minimized the document, but the damage was already done. Sukuna’s smirk stretched wider, while Toji just looked far too entertained for your liking.

“Didn’t take you for the type to write,” Toji mused, dropping onto the couch beside you, legs spreading comfortably. “Lemme guess—some self-insert romance shit?”

Sukuna barked out a laugh. “Oh, I have to read this.”

Your heart lurched as his hand made a teasing reach toward the laptop, but you snapped it shut before he could get close.

“Mind your damn business,” you snapped, pressing the device against your chest protectively.

Toji chuckled, stretching an arm over the back of the couch, effectively caging you in. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be shy. We just wanna know what’s got you so damn focused. Didn’t even notice us coming in.”

Sukuna cocked his head, gaze sharp with curiosity. “You write about us, sweetheart?”

Your stomach flipped, and your immediate reaction must’ve been too strong, because their smirks only deepened.

“Ah, fuck,” Toji grinned, nudging Sukuna. “She totally does.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue. “How cute.”

You groaned, shoving at Toji’s shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to move him. “I don’t! Now shut up and leave me alone.”

“Prove it,” Sukuna challenged, that mischievous glint in his eyes sparking like fire.

Like hell you were about to do that.

With a sigh, you pressed the laptop tighter against your chest, glaring between the two of them. “It’s not about you,” you grumbled. “I’ve been writing a book since high school.”

That actually made them pause.

Toji raised a brow, a flicker of real curiosity crossing his face. “Since high school?”

Sukuna folded his arms, tilting his head. “Damn. Didn’t expect that. What’s it about?”

You hesitated, fingers drumming against the laptop. Talking about your writing was always… weird. It felt too personal, too vulnerable, but they were staring at you now, actually waiting for an answer instead of just teasing.

You sighed. “It’s… a fantasy story. Some action, some romance, a little horror.” You shrugged. “Nothing special.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Bullshit. You don’t spend years writing something if it’s ‘nothing special.’”

Toji leaned back against the couch, arms draped lazily over the back. “So what, you wanna publish it?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I mean… yeah. Someday.”

Sukuna hummed, giving you an appraising look. “Huh. Guess you’ve got a brain under all that stubbornness.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow, thanks.”

Toji smirked, tapping a lazy finger against his thigh. “Bet you’re good at it, if you’ve stuck with it this long.”

The unexpected compliment caught you off guard, heat creeping up your neck. You huffed, looking away. “I don’t need your approval.”

Sukuna snickered, nudging your arm. “Yeah, but you like it.”

You shoved him away with a glare, ignoring the way your heart stuttered a little.

Clearing your throat, you quickly shifted the conversation. “So… uh, about my cabin—was there anything that actually needed fixing with the water damage?”

Toji ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Yeah. It’s not just a small leak. Looks like part of the roof’s been rotting for a while. Whole section of the ceiling in your bedroom needs to be ripped out and replaced.”

You groaned, leaning your head back against the couch. “Great. Just great.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue. “Could be worse. At least you didn’t wake up with the roof caving in on you.”

“Small comforts,” you muttered.

Toji shrugged. “We can go back in a few days, check if the damage spread. If it’s bad, might take a couple weeks to fix properly.”

You frowned. “Weeks?”

Sukuna smirked. “What, that eager to get away from us?”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t know if I can survive that long in a house that reeks of Alpha.”

Toji chuckled. “You’ll live.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Sukuna leaned in with a teasing grin. “Nope. You’re stuck with us, sweetheart.” ~~~ Lying in bed that night, you couldn’t shake the restless energy creeping beneath your skin. It wasn’t just the unfamiliar bed, the lingering scent of Alpha in the air, or the quiet hum of the house—it was something deeper. Something stirring in your bones, your blood, your instincts.

You shifted under the covers, pressing your thighs together as an uncomfortable heat curled low in your stomach. It wasn’t your heat, not yet, but it was something close—something in between. The constant presence of two Alphas, their scents thick in the air, the way their voices rumbled through the house, the weight of their gazes when they looked at you—it was starting to affect you.

You hated it.

Or at least, you told yourself you did.

Pulling the blankets tighter around yourself, you exhaled slowly, trying to push the feeling down, but it clung to you, wrapping around your senses like a second skin.

You needed to get a grip.

You weren’t some weak Omega, ruled by instinct and the presence of Alphas. You had spent years keeping yourself in control, resisting the pull of biology, refusing to be another helpless, needy little thing.

And yet…

Your fingers curled into the sheets, heart pounding as your body betrayed you, warmth pooling beneath your skin, an ache settling deep in your core.

Damn them.

Damn them both. It was like your hands had a mind of their own as one traced down below the hem of your sleep shorts and thin panties— you couldn't help the gasp you release— you're overly sensitive. Your other hand comes up to cover your mouth to silence any further noises as you continue your ministrations. Shit. ~~~ In the morning, you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling groggy, restless, and frustrated beyond belief. You barely managed to pull on a hoodie before making your way to the kitchen, hoping coffee would drown out the lingering heat curling through your veins.

But the moment you stepped into the room, you froze.

Toji and Sukuna were already there, leaned casually against the counter, both nursing their own mugs of coffee. Their postures were relaxed, but the sharp, knowing gleam in their eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Wolfish grins stretched across their lips—teasing, smug, far too pleased with themselves.

Your stomach dropped.

They knew.

You didn’t know how, but they knew.

Toji took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes flickering over you lazily. "Sleep well, princess?"

Sukuna chuckled, deep and throaty, his tongue running over the edge of his teeth. "Or should I say… restlessly?"

Your entire body went stiff, heat creeping up your neck. "Shut up," you muttered, moving toward the coffee pot like you weren’t about to combust on the spot.

Sukuna let out an amused hum, watching you with far too much interest. "Nothing to be ashamed of," he mused. "It's only natural, y'know. Alphas and Omegas… spending time together, getting close… instincts start kicking in."

You slammed your mug onto the counter a little too hard, teeth gritted. "I said shut up."

Toji snickered, setting his coffee down and leaning forward slightly, voice dropping to something smoother, more dangerous. "Oh, sweetheart, we ain't judgin'." He reached out, tapping two fingers against your temple. "Just sayin'—maybe your body's tryin' to tell you somethin’."

You huffed, gripping your coffee like a lifeline, refusing to meet their eyes.

Damn them.

Damn them both.

You barely had time to take a sip of your coffee before Sukuna leaned in, voice dropping into something velvety and smug.

"Y'know," he drawled, tilting his head, "if it's getting too hard to handle, sweetheart, we could always help you out."

Your grip on the mug tightened, nearly scalding yourself as you swallowed hard. "Excuse me?"

Toji chuckled, deep and throaty, like he was thoroughly enjoying your growing discomfort. He stepped closer, towering just enough to make you feel caged in, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "We’re just sayin’… you don’t gotta suffer through it alone."

Sukuna leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee with a lazy smirk. "Could make it real easy for you. Just gotta say the word."

Your whole body heated instantly, a deep, visceral reaction you tried to force down.

They were just messing with you. That’s what they did. They were assholes.

"You two are disgusting," you muttered, willing your pulse to slow down as you turned away, focusing hard on your coffee.

Toji snorted. "Disgusting? C’mon, princess, we’re just offering a little… relief."

Sukuna exhaled a sharp laugh, gaze practically burning into the side of your face. "And let’s be real, sweetheart," he murmured, "you’re thinking about it."

Your breath caught, stomach twisting.

You hated that they were right.

Your face burned as you scrambled for a response, but all that came out was a stuttered, “Wh-whatever,” before you turned on your heel and bolted toward the guest room.

The sound of their laughter followed you down the hall, deep and wolfish, like they were having the time of their lives at your expense.

“Aw, don’t run, sweetheart!” Sukuna called after you, amusement dripping from every word.

Toji’s chuckle rumbled through the cabin. “She’s cute when she’s flustered, huh?”

You slammed the door behind you, pressing your back against it as you willed your heartbeat to slow down. Your entire body was burning, and it wasn’t just from embarrassment.

Those bastards.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. You had to find a way to get through this without losing your mind—or worse, giving in.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @tojislongshlong , @jaxawinchester , @ectomotive , @hishearttohave , @makingtimemine , @tojinxies , @imoutofpot Perma Tags: @thenightperson

[undiagnosedcruelty]

Bound By Mistake│ k.seungmin

Chapter 3: Terms and Conditions (That You Definitely Did Not Agree To)

Sypnosis: When you accidentally summon Seungmin, a high-ranking demon with an attitude problem, you find yourself bound to him by an unbreakable contract.

Pairing: Demon! K. Seugming x afab!reader

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Bound By Mistake masterlist here.

Content warning: supernatural elements, mild profanity and sarcasm, banter, demon presence, seungmin being a menace

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Will be posting next chapters after I'm done editing them😞

chapter 1 │ chapter 2 | chapter 4

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EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION──NOTHING IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO ANY REAL LIFE EVENTS.

Morning came far too quickly for someone who had unwillingly acquired a supernatural parasite the night before.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm screeching, a noise that felt like a personal attack after the absolute absurdity of last night. Half-conscious, you clumsily smacked at your nightstand in search of the snooze button, groggily convincing yourself that everything—everything—had been some kind of bizarre, stress-induced fever dream.

But then, as you rubbed your eyes and blinked blearily at your surroundings, you saw him.

Seungmin.

Sitting on your desk, casually spinning a pen between his fingers. Looking like he belonged there. Looking annoyingly comfortable in your space. In your apartment.

Your bedroom, usually a safe haven of cluttered normalcy, felt smaller with him in it. Posters half-peeling from the walls, an overflowing laundry basket in the corner, and a desk covered in books and loose papers—none of it seemed to bother him. The morning light seeped in through the blinds, casting long stripes of gold and shadow across your bed, making the surreal nature of his presence even more pronounced.

You froze, brain still buffering, taking an extra second to process the fact that no, last night had not been a dream. And yes, there was still a demon in your bedroom.

Seungmin smirked the moment he saw the realization dawn on your face.

"Morning, sunshine."

You made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a dying animal, immediately flopping back onto your pillow. "Nope. I refuse."

"Refuse what?" he asked, far too amused for this hour of the morning.

"All of this." You yanked the blanket over your face. "Nope. I’m not acknowledging this. If I ignore you long enough, maybe you’ll cease to exist."

Seungmin made a thoughtful humming noise. "Bold of you to assume I need acknowledgment to exist."

You groaned, voice muffled under the covers. "Can you just—shut up for like, five minutes?"

He hummed again, considering it. "Mmm… no."

You dragged the blanket down just enough to glare at him. "You are the worst thing to ever happen to me."

"Wow." His voice was completely dry. "And here I thought your life was already a trainwreck before I got here."

Without thinking, you chucked your pillow at him. Unfortunately, like last night’s lamp, it stopped midair, hovering for a second before dropping harmlessly to the floor.

Seungmin grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. "You really don’t learn, do you?"

You sat up fully, rubbing your face as reality finally sunk in. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. I have work in an hour. What are you gonna do? Follow me around like a creepy shadow?"

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I could, but watching you be miserable at work sounds boring. I think I’ll just—" He gestured vaguely. "Lurk."

"You’re going to lurk?"

"Yeah."

You squinted at him. "Like… here? In my apartment?"

Seungmin shrugged. "Unless you’d rather me be attached to your hip all day."

You made a face. "Gross."

"Exactly."

You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed. This was going to take some serious getting used to. You moved through your morning routine on autopilot, brushing your teeth, throwing on whatever semi-clean outfit you could find, and grabbing a granola bar on your way out. The entire time, you could feel Seungmin’s gaze following you, his presence lingering like an uninvited shadow.

As you stepped outside, the city greeted you with its usual morning chaos—car horns blaring, hurried footsteps, the distant hum of conversation. The air was crisp, the early sunlight doing little to chase away the lingering chill. You stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets and started walking.

You were halfway to work, already regretting all your life choices, when it happened.

The walk from your apartment to the bookstore wasn’t anything remarkable—just a ten-minute trek past a few dull buildings, a tiny café, and an alley you usually avoided.

Today, though, you were running late. And because you were running late, you made a split-second decision: cut through the alley.

In hindsight, this was a mistake.

The alley was narrow and smelled faintly of damp asphalt and old garbage, the kind of place you instinctively knew bad things happened. The walls on either side were lined with faded graffiti, remnants of tags long abandoned. A single flickering streetlamp buzzed overhead, casting an eerie, inconsistent glow on the cracked pavement.

You had barely stepped onto the cracked pavement when something felt... off.

At first, it was subtle. A whisper of wrongness curling at the edges of your senses. Then, the air changed—sharpened. The temperature plummeted, sending a sudden shiver racing down your spine. Your breath hitched.

You slowed your pace. The alley was empty—but suddenly, it didn’t feel that way.

A flickering streetlamp above you cast long, fractured shadows against the walls. The light wavered, buzzing, like it was struggling to stay on.

Your gut twisted. You had the distinct, bone-deep feeling that you were being watched.

And then—

The streetlamp shattered. Glass rained down, sharp and glinting. You barely had time to react before a force—strong, invisible—yanked you backward.

You stumbled, heart pounding. Where you had been standing a second ago, a chunk of twisted metal crashed onto the pavement.

Your stomach dropped. You would’ve been crushed.

“What the—” You whirled around, breathless, but you already knew.

Seungmin stood there, hands in his pockets, looking completely unbothered. His dark eyes flickered to the wreckage, unimpressed, before meeting your gaze with that same unreadable expression he always wore.

Your pulse hammered in your ears. “DID YOU JUST—”

He tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”

You gawked at him. “WELCOME? I ALMOST JUST DIED!”

Seungmin blinked slowly, as if you were being dramatic. “And?”

You stared. “And?! That would’ve been your fault!”

“How?” he said, actually looking confused. He gestured vaguely, the movement slow and deliberate. “I saved you.”

“You almost let me get flattened first!”

Seungmin sighed through his nose, the kind of sigh that made it very clear he thought this was a waste of time. “You humans have no sense of gratitude.”

You pointed aggressively at the wreckage, your breath still uneven. “What the hell was that?! That was just a random accident, right? Like, bad luck?”

Seungmin’s lips twitched, his amusement barely concealed. “You really think so?”

You felt cold. A strange, creeping dread curled in your stomach. “Wait—are you saying—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, flashing you a sharp grin. “It’s nothing too serious. Just a side effect of being bound to a demon.”

You froze. Your mouth suddenly felt very dry. “A… side effect?”

Seungmin nodded once, casual as ever, like he wasn’t completely upending your entire life. “You know. Tiny things. Like bad luck.” He shrugged. “Or drawing attention from things that should probably stay in the dark. It’s fine.”

“IT IS NOT FINE.”

“Relax,” he said, stretching his arms above his head like he hadn’t just delivered a life-altering statement. “It just means I’ll have to stick around more to keep you from dying.”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You’re telling me that because of you, I’m now an attraction for supernatural bullshit?”

“Pretty much.” Seungmin rocked back on his heels, looking far too pleased with himself.

You wanted to scream. Instead, you settled for pressing your fingers against your temples, trying to will away the headache forming there.

Seungmin clapped a hand on your shoulder, giving it a single, lazy pat—barely a gesture of comfort and more like a ‘this is your life now, deal with it.’

“Congrats, mortal,” he said, smirking. “Your life just got way more interesting.”

The walk to work felt longer. Every shadow, every stray noise set your nerves on edge. By the time you reached the bookstore, the familiar scent of old paper and coffee should have been comforting. Instead, it barely grounded you.

The shop was cozy, with towering shelves, warm overhead lighting, and the constant, quiet hum of customers browsing. Wooden bookshelves stretched up to the ceiling, their spines a patchwork of colors, some leather-bound and worn with age. The air smelled of parchment and ink, mingling with the faint aroma of espresso from the small café corner near the checkout. A rickety ladder leaned against one of the shelves, used to reach the higher books. The soft chime of a bell rang as you stepped inside, and your coworker, June, barely glanced up from behind the counter, muttering a distracted "Morning."

You were re-stocking the front shelves when you heard a distinctly familiar voice behind you.

And then—

"You call this 'work'?"

You yelped, nearly dropping an entire stack of books. You turned to see Seungmin leaning against a shelf, arms crossed, looking wildly unimpressed with your minimum-wage existence. “What the fuck?!” you whisper-yelled. “I thought you said you weren’t coming with me!”

The demon in question just shrugged, as if it was just another day in his life as a demon to follow a human—you—around just to piss you off. “I got bored.’

 "Oh my god."

A book slid off the shelf by itself. A nearby customer gasped. Another book tumbled down, then another, toppling like dominoes as Seungmin grinned. A whole stack collapsed onto the floor with a thud. The customer scurried away, muttering something about ghosts. Seungmin casually dusted off his sleeve. "Whoops."

Then, he turned to June—the one you knew had a thing for charming, confident types—and gave her a lazy grin. "Hey. Can you help me find something?"

June immediately straightened, her usual indifference replaced with an eager smile. "Of course! What are you looking for?"

Seungmin leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something smoother, lower. "Something rare. Something… dangerous. Got any recommendations?"

June practically melted. You, on the other hand, were fighting the urge to strangle him.

"I swear to God," you hissed under your breath, shoving a book back into place with unnecessary force. "I will exorcise you myself."

Seungmin shot you an innocent look. "What? I'm just browsing."

June giggled. You wanted to hurl yourself into the sun.

The bookstore was supposed to be a place of peace. A quiet refuge where people could come in, browse, and leave without incident. But that was an hour ago, before Seungmin decided to lurk into the workplace to which you called Book Haven—now turned into your own personal hell because of certain demon.

You were halfway through restocking the mystery section when you heard the distinct sound of a book being flicked through at an obnoxious speed. You turned your head just in time to see Seungmin perched on the ladder you’d been using earlier, balancing precariously while flipping through a random novel at a speed that no one could actually read.

“That’s not how books work,” you pointed out, returning to your task. Seungmin hummed, flipping to the end of the book before shutting it with a loud snap. “I dunno. I got the general idea.”

“You—” You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply. “You are insufferable.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

He hopped down from the ladder with a lazy grin, trailing behind you as you moved to the front desk. You pretended not to notice him hovering, but after a solid minute of him doing absolutely nothing except existing loudly, you turned to glare at him.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you asked.

“Nope.” He leaned on the counter, watching as you typed something into the computer. “June likes me, you know.”

You paused. “Yes, I am painfully aware.”

“They’re cute.”

You didn’t bother looking up. “Then why are you over here bothering me instead of flirting with her?”

“I like a challenge.”

You made a noise of disbelief and focused very hard on the screen in front of you. Maybe if you ignored him long enough, he’d get bored. Maybe he’d wander off to terrorize someone else. Maybe—

You heard the unmistakable sound of a book being tossed into the air. Your eyes snapped up just in time to see Seungmin casually catching and tossing a book one-handed, his expression the picture of boredom.

“Stop that,” you said sharply.

“Stop what?” He tossed the book again.

“That!”

“This?” He tossed it even higher.

You lunged for it, barely snatching it away before it could crash onto the counter. You cradled it protectively, glaring daggers at him. “Get out,” you hissed.

Seungmin smirked, taking a step back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

You didn’t believe that for a second, but at least he stopped throwing books. For now.

June walked by a moment later, giving Seungmin a shy little wave. He returned it smoothly before looking back at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You groaned. This job didn’t pay you nearly enough for this.

By the time your shift ended, you were drained. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the streets bathed in the amber glow of streetlights. You locked up the shop, adjusting your bag over your shoulder, when you noticed Seungmin waiting outside, hands in his pockets, looking way too at ease for someone who had tormented you all day.

"You really have nothing better to do?" you asked, exasperated.

"Not really," he admitted. "Besides, I'm supposed to keep you from dying, remember?"

You sighed and started walking, Seungmin falling into step beside you. The city had quieted, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog the only sounds filling the air. The neon lights of a diner flickered across the street, and the faint scent of rain clung to the air.

"You know," Seungmin mused, glancing at you. "For someone who's had their life completely upended by supernatural forces, you're handling this surprisingly well."

You shot him a look. "I'm too tired to freak out anymore. I'll save that for tomorrow."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, but not unpleasant. Despite everything, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

And, for better or worse, your new reality had begun.

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Series taglist: @maisyyyyyy @hyeon-yi @chuuyaobsessed @alisonyus @eastjonowhere @sseastar-main

[soaplickerrr]

Accidentally Coincidental

CHAPTER 11 (click pictures for better quality)

| ⇠ Previous | Next ⇢ |

a/n: updates will be slow, i'm working on a pretty long fic on my side blog.

pairing: Idol!Kim Seungmin x Fem!College Student!Reader

genre: contemporary romance

SMAU

synopsis: Y/N, a regular college student accidentally texts Seungmin, a star in the K-pop group Stray Kids while trying to text her Ex, Soonyoung to come pick up his things, leading to an unexpected connection that blossoms into a heartfelt romance.

ignore time stamps, dates (other than the ones mentioned during texting) and typos

THERES A WRITTEN PART, DO NOT JUST SCROLL THROUGH THE PICS!

The morning light filtered through your curtains, painting your room in soft golden light.

You stretched lazily in bed, the memory of your first date with Seungmin still fresh in your mind.

The quiet moments, the playful teasing, and the way his hand felt warm and steady in yours, it had all left a lingering warmth in your chest.

As you reached for your phone, a message notification greeted you. It was from Seungmin, from 10 minutes ago.

You hesitated, a flicker of nervousness settling in your stomach. This wasn’t like your first date, where you’d blended into the crowd. But the thought of seeing him again was too tempting to resist.

As soon as you reached the JYP building, the common morning bustle was going on. Trainees were speedily going around with a strapped-on gym bag, staff rushed about from conference room to conference room, and the humming sound that filled the air was so familiar to productivity.

You settled into your desk in the editing department and booted up your workstation, diving into the day's assignments. The first thing on your plate was reviewing footage of a recent Stray Kids dance practice. The video flickered to life on your screen, and your eyes inevitably landed on Seungmin.

Even now, in rehearsal mode, he stood out. Intent and exacting, yet light in his movements- quietly confident in a way that made it impossible not to smile as you worked. Surreal, to be watching him like this after the time you'd spent with him off-camera.

"Y/N, can you send me the final cut for the highlight reel?" Jina's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“On it!" you replied, exporting the file in record time. The rest of the morning flew by in a haze of edits and emails, though you did find yourself checking the clock more often than usual. As noon started to draw near, a quiet excitement started to bubble up inside you.

You glanced at your watch; it was exactly noon, lunch. Taking your phone, you headed towards the elevators. Every step seemed to kick your heart into higher gear, and as you rounded the corner, there he was, leaned against the wall, casually dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans.

It sent a wave of warmth through you at the mere sight of him, and before your brain could overthink it, you just walked right up to him and leaned in, pressing a quick peck on his lips.

The effect was instant. Seungmin froze, staring at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in surprise.

"You okay there?" you tease, taking a step back.

He blinked once; his composure faltered for a beat before a slow, boyish grin spread through his face. "Well. I certainly wasn't expecting that."

You shrugged, attempting to play it cool despite your racing heart. "Consider it a thank you for planning lunch."

"I may have to plan more lunches, then," he said lowly.

"Come on," you said, your eyes rolling even as a smile crept onto your face. "Let's eat before I change my mind."

Seungmin guided you down a deserted hallway and opened the door to one of the smaller dance practice rooms. A little table inside was set with takeout containers and drinks, even a few desserts. The room was dimly lit; the mirrors running floor to ceiling reflected the cozy scene.

"Impressed?" he asked, the grin laced with a hint of pride.

You laughed, sitting down on the floor across from him. "I'll admit, I didn't expect this. But it's… nice."

He handed you a drink and unwrapped his food. "Figured it'd be better than the cafeteria. Less crowded."

The conversation had started light as you dug into your meals, talking work, favorite foods, and random quirks of daily routines. As the minutes passed, the conversation turned deeper, more personal.

"What's been the best part of editing so far?" Seungmin asked, leaning forward slightly.

You picked at your food for a moment, thinking. "I think it's getting to see all the little details- the moments people don't always catch. Like in that dance practice footage, there was this part where you smiled at Hyunjin after a misstep. It was so fast, but it made the whole clip feel more real."

Seungmin tilted his head, a soft smile tugging on his lips. "You're really good at noticing things, aren't you?"

You shrugged, feeling a little shy under his gaze. "It's part of the job, I guess."

"It's more than that," he said, his tone thoughtful. "You care about what you're doing. It shows."

His words had brought color to your cheeks, and you changed the subject in a hurry, asking him to talk about his best memories of performances. He launched into a story about a chaotic onstage moment, replete with exaggerated impressions of his groupmates, and you laughed so hard you almost spilled your drink.

As the lunch hour drew to a close, you both sat back, sipping your drinks, and let the quiet fall around you.

"Thanks for this," you said softly. "I didn't realize just how much I needed it."

"Anytime," Seungmin replied, the warmth of his voice palpable. "We can make it a habit. Lunch breaks should be fun."

He rose and extended a hand to you, hoisting you to your feet with little difficulty. As you straightened your jacket, he looked at the time. "I should probably walk you back. Wouldn't want anyone accusing me of kidnapping our star editor."

The walk back to the editing department was silent, but comfortable, Seungmin walking near enough that your arms touched from time to time. There was just something so trustworthy in his presence- something grounding- and you'd smiled without even realizing it.

Just as you rounded a corner near your department, Seungmin suddenly slowed his pace. In that instant, his expression changed, melting into one confusion and suspicion.

"What?" you asked, scanning where he was looking.

"Han," he muttered under his breath.

Sure enough, a little farther down the hall, Han was leaning casually against the wall, phone in hand. He didn't even try to hide it as he snapped a quick photo of the two of you walking together.

"Don't mind me," Han said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. "Just documenting history."

Seungmin sighed, rubbing his temples. "Han, don't-"

"Too late," Han interrupted, already walking away. "Check the group chat."

Seungmin groaned loudly, muttering something under his breath before turning back to you with a soft apologetic smile. "Sorry about him. He's…enthusiastic."

You laughed shaking your head. "It's fine. I'll leave that chaos in your hands."

With a final smile, Seungmin watched you go back into the editing department, a quiet warmth settling over him.

The phone wouldn't stop buzzing later that afternoon. Seungmin opened the group chat to find Han's photo, and the usual chaos.

Shaking his head, Seungmin pocketed his phone, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the teasing.

It felt like this chapter was very short and rushed :3

TAGLIST - CLOSED - if your name is in pink, I couldn't tag you

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[morgana-larkin]

Here's the next chapter of Just Tired! It's all Y/n's POV of the same 2 and a half days. Would have had this out yesterday but my little brother's birthday party was yesterday. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 26

Just Tired - Part 25

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 2.8k

You wake up on Monday morning and put your hands over your eyes. You’re still in shock over what happened yesterday with Melissa. Now you’ll have to see her at work, right across the hall from you and not talk to her. You get up and get ready for work and try not to cry. 

You arrive in the parking lot and let out a breath that Melissa’s car is not here yet. You go into the school and walk in the break room and head over to the fridge to put your lunch in there. You then sit at the table with Jacob and Janine who were talking about what they did over the weekend.

“So Y/n what did you do?” Jacob asks you.

“Oh I didn’t do much, mostly stayed home and watched movies with my roommate.” You tell them and then you see Melissa walk in and she freezes. 

“What movies did you watch?” Janine asks you and then Melissa seems to start moving.

“Just some Disney movies like Sleeping Beauty, The Lion King.” You say to them.

“Ohh! I love Disney movies!” Janine exclaims and that sparks a Disney conversation.

You mostly tune out what Janine and Jacob are talking about, mostly thinking about yesterday. You notice that they seem to be talking about the classics and talking about which one is the best.

“Oh, we gotta get to our classrooms.” Janine says and it snaps you out of the whirlwind your brain was thinking.

“Now, who can tell me what people used before clocks to tell time?” You ask your class and you point to the first one who raises their hand. “Alec.”

“My mom said they used sundials.” Alec replies with and you smile. 

“That’s correct.” You tell him as you are leaning on your desk, facing your students. 

You go to sit at your desk while your students are reading and you glance at Melissa across the hall and sigh. You miss her already, even though it’s been a day. You guess knowing that she doesn’t want anything to do with you makes it harder as you’ll never talk to her again. You then cast those thoughts aside as you’re at school right now, you can cry when you get home. 

At the end of the day you see her saying goodbye to her students but you notice she doesn’t have the same energy as usual. You guess being abused by your ex again and getting into a fight with a trusted friend can bring you down. When all your students are gone, you lock up your classroom and head down the hall, not knowing that Melissa was watching you. 

When you get home all your thoughts are of Melissa. You go on your phone and look at all the photos you two took together. The first one you guys took was when Gerald drove you both to the gay bar for Melissa’s first time and you took a selfie from the backseat. 

The second one was when you two were on your first date and walking to the car with your ice cream cones. You took your phone out to take a selfie of the both of you and Melissa stuck her tongue out, that was the second time that day that you saw her silly side. You, of course, followed suit and stuck your tongue out as well.

The third picture of you both together is after you helped her get revenge on her ex and egged their house. You were both laying on her bed and you got your phone on and she kissed your cheek as you took the picture.

The next picture was the next day when she took you to Danny Wok’s to try his chicken and you had a nice afternoon that day. You took a picture together after exiting the store and you were holding up the box of chicken she bought for you, Melissa was holding hers up as well.

The following picture was with Janine and Jacob when all four of you went to do the escape room. Melissa was right beside you as Janine and Jacob were right behind you. You and Melissa ended up taking a photo of just the two of you after. She has her arm wrapped around your neck and you both have a big smile on your faces.

The next picture is when you love to look at. It was after you both were roller skating and were walking to get pizza. You stopped and got your phone out and she saw you were about to take a picture of you both. She quickly leans forward and kisses you on the lips just as you take the picture. The next picture is about a minute later and it’s just Melissa from the side in the picture, she has her head down and she has a smile on her face.

The last picture is the one that Janine sent you of the picture she took of both you and Melissa kissing in the parking lot of the escape room. You finish looking at all the pictures and sigh.

“Even if I’m not in your life anymore, you meant so much to me, and I hope you continue living life the way you want.” You say as you look at the picture of just her.

You then end up going out with Hallie and her friends as you told her what happened and she called her friends to go out to a bar. You got to meet all her friends and danced with a couple of them to the music. Hallie cuts you off after your fourth drink and drives you home not too long after.

You wake up the next morning with a slight hangover and you put your sunglasses on as you drive to the school. You walk into the break room and get a coffee before you sit down with Janine and Jacob. You have a slight headache from the alcohol and don’t really pay attention to what they’re talking about. You take a sip of coffee just as you hear the door open and see Barb and Melissa walking in. You wrap your sweater around you for comfort as Melissa makes her way over to the fridge.

“Y/n? Are you even paying attention?” Janine asks you and you look up at both of them.

“Not really, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, sorry.” You tell them and you get a sudden sadness taking over you and you realise you need to leave. You grab your coffee mug and get up and immediately go for the exit. You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings and end up walking right into Melissa and spill your coffee on both of you. You end up letting go of your coffee mug due to the surprise and it breaks upon impact with the floor. “Oh god, Melissa I’m so sorry.” You tell her as you realise who you bumped into. She looks like she’s about to say something but you can’t deal with her complaints. “I’ll go get Mr. Johnson so he can clean this up.” You tell her before bolting out of there with a few tears running down your face. 

You reach the safety of your classroom and immediately change into your emergency shirt that you now keep in your classroom, thanks to Melissa. You sit down at your desk and curse yourself for what just happened. You can’t hold back anymore and start crying until you see that there’s a few minutes until the bell. You wipe your tears away and go in your bag and put some mascara on to cover up the fact that you were just crying for 20 minutes. There’s one minute until the bell so you open up your door and greet the students as they walk in, although you don’t feel up to your usual enthusiasm at seeing your kiddos. All of a sudden you see Melissa walking up to you and you have no idea what she wants to say to you, considering you both agreed to cut all communication off unless necessary. You look at her in confusion when she’s right next to you.

“Can I help you Ms. Schemmenti?” You ask her, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. 

“Just wanted to say no hard feelings about the coffee, accidents happen.” She tells you before she goes back to greeting her students. You stare at her in confusion for a few moments, not expecting that. You thought that she might be complaining about the coffee incident, especially since you’re sure she’s still mad at you about the stuff you told her on Sunday.

An hour later you’re grading their homework that you gave them last night when your thoughts drift back to Melissa and the fact that she wasn’t mad at you about bumping into her and spilling coffee on her. She knew for a fact that you were blaming yourself and made sure you knew that she doesn’t blame you. You decide to return the favour and send her a text.

You: Thank you for forgiving me about the coffee incident.

You text it to her before going back to grading the homework. A few seconds later you feel like you’re being watched and look at all your students. You see they’re all hard at work and no one is watching you. You then turn your head to Melissa’s classroom and see that she’s watching you with a smile and her phone in her hands. You look at her eyes and see the brightness in them is still there and she must have moved on from you and that hurts you to think about it. You then see her break contact and put her phone down before she continues doing what she was doing before you texted her.

The day went by as normal. Your headache disappeared around lunch when you were eating and drinking lots of water throughout the day, making the hangover leave you. You were saying goodbye to your students with more enthusiasm than you had this morning when a parent comes up to you and starts yelling in your face. He’s holding up a piece of paper of the history test you gave them last week and see who his kid is and he points to the queer question that’s on it.

“My kid has been telling me everything you’re teaching and I don’t like it! I want you to change what you’re teaching them!” He yells at you and you realise he means the queer history. You take a deep breath and try to reply to him as calmly as possible.

“I’m very sorry to hear that but I teach them what I’m told to teach them and what I think they should be taught as it’s important.” You tell him.

“I don’t want you teaching them queer history! I don’t want it rubbing off on my kid! It’s bad enough that her teacher is a queer!” He yells in your face and you’re taken back by that comment. It quickly makes you think back on your own parents and how they used to yell at you for being gay.

“Is there a problem here?” You hear Melissa ask and see she’s right beside you and looking at the dad who’s yelling at you. You see him relax a bit as he looks at Melissa.

“Mrs. Schemmenti, you’re a respected teacher here. Please tell this queer that she shouldn’t be teaching gay history to our kids.” The dad demands of her. You have no idea who’s side she’s going to take in this. She is a respected teacher because the parents see every year how much she cares about her students but you know she also respects her fellow coworkers.

“Well first off it’s Ms, and secondly I think it’s important for our kids to know our whole history and not just parts of it.” She says and you widen your eyes as she’s defending what you’re teaching your students. You look at the dad and see that it did not please him as she took your side instead of his like he thought.

“Why are you defending her? This queer! This *insert gay slur*!” He yells and you let out a small gasp, not even your parents were mean enough to call you that. You look at Melissa and see that she’s not thrilled by that comment.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you take your daughter and leave now.” She tells him sternly before he takes his daughter’s hand and leaves. You look down as he leaves as his comment got to you. “Are you ok? Parents can be mean sometimes, don’t listen to what he said.” She says and you look at her and see she’s looking at you with concern.

“Never had anyone say anything bad about my sexuality before.” You say. You both know your parents have but Melissa knows what you meant. You then see her go to reach for your hand but then she freezes. You don’t know what to do either and realise it must be instinct but then she might not want to touch you. You then wrap your sweater around yourself for comfort like you did this morning. 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a homophobic jackass.” She ends up saying and you look at her and nod.

“Thanks.” You tell her and then you see her nod before she goes back to saying goodbye to her students. You see her casting glances at you until all the students are gone.

You go home and sit on the couch with a hot chocolate and put on a disney movie. Today is just not your day. You end up telling Hallie what happened when she gets home as she can see you were upset about something. She joins you on the couch and you end up watching some comfort Disney movies.

The next day you get to the school and go to the break room for some coffee. You still weren’t really in the mood to talk to anyone so you tell Janine and Jacob that you’ll see them at lunch and you go to your classroom.

You see Melissa’s door is already open and you see her at her desk. When you walk in your classroom, you see something on your desk and go over and see it’s a container full of food. You see there’s a note attached to it and read it.

‘Hope this makes you feel better.’

-Melissa

You read it a couple of times before you look over to Melissa and see she’s still doing something at her desk and take a deep breath. You have no idea why she’s secretly slipping you food when you both agreed on no contact and no friendship at all. You have a pretty good idea of what she’s talking about with the feel better but you want to make sure. You cross the hall with the container and reach her classroom.

“Feel better about what?” You ask her and she looks up at you.

“About yesterday.” She simply says and then you watch as she begins placing a piece of paper on the student’s desks.

“I’m grateful that you defended me but I don’t need your food.” You tell her and you see that she sees the container of food in your hand and you know she’s not used to people turning away her cooking, especially you.

“I’ll defend any teacher here, no matter what. As for the food, just think of it as a celebration for surviving the first time a parent yells at you.” She tells you and you see she’s being a bit vulnerable with you right now. “I’ve been here for 15 years and parents weren’t too pleased to have another white teacher at first.” She says and you look at her.

“Well thank you.” You say to her and she shrugs.

“Just give me the container back when you’re done with it.” She tells you and you nod. Then you go to walk back to the break room to put the container in the fridge. As you walk there you think back to how she’s being nice to you. Is it possible you misread all the signs? Was she mad at you? You then remember her eyes yesterday and realise they were shining the same way they do when she looks at you and you freeze.

“Well, shit.”

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[parkersgarage]

a/n: I went down a rabbit hole after getting two (2) edits of him. I don’t wanna talk about it 😭

scott miller x gn!reader | 846 wc | warnings: alcohol, unrequited love (past) not very proofread (I was half asleep)

Scott was never a man of many words, at least none that weren’t snarky comebacks, snide comments, or blatant orders. But he was your best friend, at least in some way. After Javi went back to miami you didn’t have anyone. Kate was gone, but you’d never truly felt connected with her as much as everyone else.

You’d met Scott near the end of college at a joint conference between schools. He’d commented about your presentation and how it lacked unbiased opinion, to which you responded about his lack of real-world experience. 

Scott was the person you clung to throughout the loneliest chapter of your life, and he was okay with that. 

He’d heard about your stories, the tornado that tore your life apart, the unrequited feelings you had for his new business partner, who he’d had no idea was the same guy until he introduced you two. 

Since he wasn’t a talker, it made him an observer. He studied the way you reacted the moment you had your eyes on Javi, then the click in Javi’s eyes when he realized it was you that Scott was introducing him to. 

“You two know each other?” He’d asked, even if he knew the answer already. 

“This is the friend I talked about, the one that didn’t wear pants.” Javi rolls his eyes at his embarrassing legacy and curses at the fact his new business partner knows it. “Scotty didn’t tell me anything about his new endeavors, let alone who he was working with.” You spare a glance in his direction when he clears his throat, muttering ‘Scott’ under his breath. 

“He didn’t mention anything about you either.” 

Scott remained indifferent, he’d mastered his facade of not giving a damn, but there’s something about the way Javi is looking at you that irks him. 

Whatever. It’s not important. 

The next day, night he should say, since you spent nearly all day catching up with Javi since they didn’t need to do any work today. Scott sits mindlessly on the couch watching god knows what, with a beer in hand that nearly slips out of his grip when you walk in. There’s a wistful smile on your face as you talk about how Javi was such a gentleman or how Javi was so attentive, and how handsome Javi looked in his sweater. 

Scott listens wordlessly, it’s what he’s known for. It’s what he’s here for. But as much as he was an observer, you were too. 

“Are you okay, Scott?” You ask softly, settling on the couch beside him. Your eyes shoot down to the bottle in his hand, then to the few on the table. “You don’t usually drink this much.” Then you glance at the clock, furrowing your brows when you look at him. “And you’re usually in bed by this time.”

He lets you take the bottle from his hand, and lets himself fall into you, he’ll blame it on being drunk. “Was waiting for you to come home.” 

“Oh, Scotty.” Something in your heart melts at his words, more from the way he’s started to cling onto you. “You didn’t have to do that, you’ll be tired in the morning. Especially with how much you’ve had to drink.” 

“Do you still love Javi?” 

His question catches you off guard, the hand that was running through his hair hovers above him now. “I don't know.” You think about today, how he was all those things you said before but during conversations there were too many mentions of Kate. 

Kate changed her hair. Kate was impressed by his change. Kate this. Kate that. Kate. 

You figured Scott was feeling the same way as you with Javi. He doesn’t get drunk off a few beers, his cheeks would’ve been flushed red but they’re as clear as day. 

“I think I just wanted to see if there was a chance, but as much as I wanted to hold onto him, I knew I had to let him go eventually.” 

There wasn’t warmth when Javi guided you into the restaurant with his hand on your back, nor when he looked at you from across the table and held your hand for a moment. 

But with Scott you always felt that. You always felt the rush of warmth whenever he complimented you, it was rare and usually disguised as an insult but you knew what he meant. Everything he did for you was kept close to your heart. 

“You should get some sleep, Scotty.” You whisper, pulling his head off your shoulder gently. “You’ve got an early start tomorrow.” 

He doesn’t protest, he never does, not when it comes to you. He lets you pull him up by the arm, lets you guide him towards his room, even lets you throw the covers over him. He’d never admit how much he loved when you took care of him, let alone how much you meant to him. 

Because Scott was the person you clung to throughout the loneliest chapter of your life, and he had to be okay with being just that.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 44

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 44 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

44. the god of death

As you savor the last days of early fall before bitter cold sets in, John seems way more interested in teaching you how to ride, than planning a wedding. You are perfectly fine with that. You studied up and took the permit test online the very next day. Most of it was common sense–or at least, you’d like to think so. A trip to the DMV in Clear Forks rendered you legal for the road. 

You go for rides together almost every afternoon, through the winding mountain roads, and down in town in higher traffic as well. You’ll be good and ready for your test come spring. You feel as though he has gifted you a set of wings, when you are flying down the highway together, the mountains looming majestically in the distance. Once you get the hang of it, it’s not hard to work the bike, it just takes focus–or you might die. 

Oddly–the risk seems totally worth it. Not just for your own enjoyment, but his too. You can tell that being on the bike soothes something in this man’s battered soul, and you’re rather honored that he’d share this hobby with you.

When the days get short and winter sets in, it’s too cold for the bikes, even with battery heated jackets, you fall into a new routine. John is usually the first one out of bed. Sometimes he wakes you with kisses and his beautiful cock before wandering down to the kitchen to make a simple breakfast for the two of you, usually eggs and sliced fruit with coffee. John disappears into his workshop repairing a set of first edition Beatrix Potter books, and you go to your studio, though true inspiration continues to escape you. You feel as though something is hovering just beyond your grasp; inspiration waits behind a curtain, if you could just find the right trigger to sweep it aside. 

After lunch you often sit together and read in the den with the fireplace burning. When the first snow falls it feels like magic, in that house with him. You make love on the couch and then watch the fat flakes fall through the window from under a soft blanket, John’s arms wrapped around you. Later you make dinner together, feeding each other tidbits while chopping up vegetables, bumping into each other on purpose just to steal a kiss. You close the evening with a glass of wine and sometimes a movie or a show, and sometimes you read some more. 

Sometimes, John looks at you with that smoldering warmth in his dark eyes, and you go to bed early.    

Life is so damn near perfect that it almost scares you. It really seems like the Camorra have convinced the idiotic young Dante to leave you alone, and a part of you deep down wonders if you could truly be so lucky? You know that John has not forgotten about him completely. He does not let you go to town by yourself, not even to the grocery store. This doesn’t particularly bother you–even something so mundane as pottering up and down the isles with your trolley is fun with this man at your side. You crack jokes in the wine aisle, and exchange kisses in the produce, and you’re sure everyone around you is rolling their eyes at your expense–you’re so in love you simply do not care. 

One morning John cuts up a pomegranate for breakfast, the juicy little seeds glowing brilliant magenta in the sunlight, and as he holds out one for you to try from his fingertips inspiration hits you like a shovel to the head. You accept the morsel between your lips, laving his digit clean with your tongue as you gaze up at this man in black towering over you: your lover, your protector, your captor turned your intended. Sensing the change in you, John tilts his head slightly, raven hair swinging into his midnight-dark eyes. You reach up to brush it behind his ear carefully, almost as though you are seeing him anew. 

“You like it?” he asks, and there is something fragile in his tone. Neither of you are sure he’s talking about the pomegranate. 

“I love it,” you assure him, putting him at ease. You tangle your legs with his under the breakfast table, further affirming your affection. But for the first time in a while, you cannot wait to get up to your studio.

You start with sketches, working manically to make a sort of storyboard, plotting out a whole series. You incorporate the symbols of the pomegranate and the narcissus, telling the tale of a girl who is snatched up from beside a Venetian canal by a God of Death–and how she falls in love with him. 

Though you work with your door closed, needing the privacy to create, you know John looks over what you’re making later. Sometimes he’ll place a pen or a sketchbook not quite where you left them, as though signaling that he’s been there. His most blatant admission comes in the form of a sticky note pasted like a caption below one of your gouache illustrations on thick paper, of a glowing girl clutching a bright white narcissus flower, gazing up at a man in shadow sitting upon a throne of skulls, “And the God of Death fell hopelessly in love.”     

Later, while you’re snuggled together on the couch with dog at your feet, he tells you, “If you make them on longer pieces of paper, I can bind them for you.” This quiet offer of collaboration on an art project fills your heart with a sneaking warmth that starts in your chest, and spreads all the way to your toes. 

“I would like that,” you admit, kissing his cheek sweetly. 

His next question comes quieter still; you see the worry written in those soulful dark eyes: “Are you still angry?”

You realize that the answer to that is complex. The truth is: you were, deep down, despite how good things have been. But putting all of it down on paper with ink and pigment has exorcized something toxic from you. Something that might have acted as a slow-leaching poison in your relationship, had you not administered these therapeutic paintings as your antidote. Something about reclaiming your story in the images drawn from your hand, and telling it the exact way you please, (with some stylistic embellishments borrowed from Hades and Persephone) acts as a healing balm. 

“Not anymore,” you tell him, and you mean what you say. 

John’s relief is a palpable thing; you feel the tension release from his body pressed against yours. It still has not ceased to amaze you, the power you seem to hold over this formidable man. But it goes both ways, and somehow, through blood, sweat, tears, and all the love in your hearts, you have managed to strike a balance together that makes both of you happy. 

Maybe you are young, but you are smart enough to know that is a rare and precious thing indeed. 

[cervidaewasteland]

To Someone From A Warm Climate: Chapter One

A joy, hard learned in winter

A/N: I had the idea for this literally this morning and somehow got a whole chapter written and edited in three hours. Yay me

Summary: You live in a small town in Oregon, working most days at the library and selling farm goods at the market every Wednesday. Your life is quiet for the most part, following the same routine and usually content staying at home with your chickens and your garden. One week in early May, however, you meet someone, and suddenly you begin to consider giving dating a try after years of choosing to live on your own.

Warnings: f!reader

Word Count: 2,856

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, part seven

Early morning, May first. You had a lot of work to do. 

Your alarm sounded at five in the morning, and groggily, you reached over to shut it off. Sitting up and running a hand through your hair, you glanced out the window. Early morning light was peaking through the curtains, the sun just barely beginning to rise. With a grin, you got out of bed, padding down the hall to the kitchen. 

After getting yourself a hot mug of coffee, you pulled on the fluffiest robe you could find and stepped out onto the back porch. You lived almost in the middle of the forest, down gravelly backroads and just up the hill from the river. Your property wasn’t too big, but it was enough to house your chickens and the garden you loved so dearly. You’d had to cut down a lot of the trees in the back to make room for it all, but you had left whatever you could, a small bit of the forest still fenced in behind your house. Every so often when you’d go out at night, you’d see a group of deer, cautiously trying to break into the greenhouse. You always left whatever you didn’t use out for them, even though you knew you weren’t supposed to. With all the mountain lions around, you couldn’t help but feel bad for them. 

You sat down at the table on the back patio, covered by the pergola you had built the year before. You had gotten sick of how icy the concrete got with nothing to shield it from the rain. You stayed out there for a while, watching the sun rise and sipping your coffee, every once in a while hearing a rustle in the trees or the singing of birds. You enjoyed your quiet mornings. For a little while you didn’t have to worry about anything, and you could just relax and enjoy the world around you. 

Once you were awake enough, you went back inside, starting to make your way through the list of things you had to do today. It was the first day of the market for this year, which was always stressful. You’d have to get used to going out every week again—you couldn’t really just not go, you’d already paid for your spot and the market gave you about 40% of your income. So you took a shower and dried your hair and got dressed, deciding not to put on any makeup. You’d only get annoyed with it, and it was a little windy anyway—you didn’t want to deal with your hair getting caught in your lip gloss every two seconds. And then you started to gather up everything you needed—several baked goods you had prepared earlier that week, boxes and boxes of eggs, fresh fruit and veggies, and the stickers you had made a habit of bringing along with you for any young children you might encounter. You took a minute to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything before loading it all up into the car and digging around the closet for your coat, scarf, and gloves. 

A couple minutes later, once you were absolutely sure you had everything, you left, pulling out of the gravelly driveway and onto the dusty forest road that led out into town. It was currently eight in the morning, and you had to be ready by eleven, and it was a forty minute drive to the city. You’d probably be there on time. You hoped. You ended up pulling into the parking lot at almost nine, which gave you two hours. You were sure you’d be ready before eleven. Probably. 

As you got out of the car, you were approached by a sprightly woman with bright red hair. Your best friend, Cherry. She pulled you into a squeezing hug before you could register what was going on, and you let out an oomph. She laughed, pulling away. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! I texted you a couple weeks ago and you never got back to me.” She pouted, almost immediately beginning to help you grab your things from the car. You had always been the reclusive type, never really wanting to make plans or go out anywhere. You preferred your quiet life at home. You didn’t mind Cherry, though. Despite her spirited personality, she really was sweet. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, grabbing the last of the boxes and kicking the door closed. “Sorry for not responding. I must not have seen it.”

She shrugged, smiling at you as you both walked to the spot you had booked for the next few weeks. “No hard feelings. I knew you’d probably be busy getting ready and stuff. I was just gonna see if you wanted to go get drinks with me and a few of my friends this weekend.” 

You let out a breath, quiet for a moment as you tried to think up a response. “I don’t really drink that often,” you finally said, both of you reaching the tent where you were meant to set up. You were good friends with one of the guys who ran the market, so he had offered to start setting up before you got there, meaning you hadn’t been forced to somehow fit a table in your car and carry it from the parking lot on your own. Cherry continued to chat with you as you both set up—more at you than with you, really, but you didn’t mind. She stayed for a little while after you finished, but eventually made some excuse and left. She had gotten bored, though she would never admit that to you. She was the kind of person who always needed something exciting to keep her attention or she’d be tempted to simply move on. You didn’t mind it. You figured if she could excuse your tendency to ignore her calls, you could excuse her habit of not wanting to sit with you for hours on end while you hoped someone would take interest in something you were selling. 

As soon as it hit eleven, it was busy. You had expected it to be—the first day was always busy—but it was especially bad this time. Good for business, though—you were completely sold out of eggs and blackberries within twenty minutes. By twelve thirty, it had started to slow down a little. It was still crowded, but you could see past the groups of people now to the field across the lot. 

You had been spaced out for a while, staring blankly at the grass, but were quickly snapped out of your daze when a man approached your table. You looked up, slapping on a grin and trying to seem friendly. 

“Hi! How are you doing?” You had always hated this part—greeting everyone who came up to you, trying to seem like you weren’t a total jerk. What were you even supposed to say? “How can I help you?” just felt too mechanical. 

“Well, hello there.” He grinned at you, and you caught the slight accent in his voice. Actually, it wasn’t really slight. It was pretty prominent. You couldn’t quite place where it was from, though. Europe somewhere, definitely. “Those strawberries look lovely.” You glance down to where he gestured—the one container of strawberries you hadn’t sold yet. He was right, they did look lovely. You had been especially proud of those ones. You nodded, looking back up at him. 

“Thank you. I can’t say the same for the rest of the batch, you’ve got no idea how many I had to give to the chickens.” He chuckled slightly, and you smiled, pleased that your quip had landed. 

“How much for them?” He reached to pull his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Six dollars.” 

The man smiled and handed you a ten, grabbing the strawberries from the table. “I won’t make you make change, don’t worry.”

“Well, that’s very generous of you.” You hesitantly tucked the bill away in the lockbox you kept the rest of the money in. “Does the kind donor have a name?”

“Andrew,” he adjusted his sunglasses as he took a step back, and your chest ached at the thought of him leaving. Which was entirely ridiculous. You’d just met him. 

“Well, Andrew. Thank you very much. It means a lot to me.” 

“Thank you for the wonderful strawberries. Will you be here next week? I might just have to come back for more.” 

You nodded, grinning. “I sure will. I’ll be waiting.”

For the next two hours, you couldn’t focus at all on trying to be friendly to customers. Your mind was stuck on how charming he had been. It had been longer than you could place since you had dated anyone in any capacity, and you’d never had any want to. Now, though… Now you weren’t so sure. When it came time to pack up, you were eager to get home, antsy to throw yourself into your chores to distract from the way your heart was racing. 

You got home at a little past four, and immediately you got busy. You still needed to tend to the chickens, making sure they had enough water and food. As you walked out to the coop, you heard the familiar quacking of the one duck you did own. There had been a couple others, but they had been killed by a stray cat that kept getting into the coop a few months before. You had taken a few days to reinforce everything, and there had been no further incidents, but the duck had become rather clingy. He waited at the gate as you stepped inside, following you around while you checked for eggs and made sure everything was in order. 

After tending to the chickens, you watered the plants and trimmed the lawn, pulling out a few weeds on the way. When you had finished all your chores and were still aching for something to do, you changed into a pair of swim shorts and an old tshirt and walked down the forest trail to the river. The path was a bit swampy, snow still lingering and melting into the soft earth, but you didn’t mind getting a little muddy. You’d be in the water soon anyway. You felt a little more at peace as you reached the riverbank, golden sunlight beaming down from the clear blue sky, warming your skin despite the cold breeze that blew across the meadow. You stepped down into the shallow water, hissing at first from the icy temperature but quickly adjusting. Eventually, you were fully submerged, sitting criss cross on the soft riverbed, the water up to your chest. Luckily, the river wasn’t moving too quickly, the current just slow enough for you to not have to put effort into keeping yourself from losing your footing. 

You let your eyes fall shut, enjoying the feeling of the water flowing past you, the sound of the birds in the trees, the rustle of the deer treading through the underbrush. You felt at peace when you were out in the woods, like nothing else mattered. Like the only person in the world was you. 

☽⭒✵⭒☾

It wasn’t until the sun started to set that you got out of the water, hurrying to get home before the pink-orange sky faded into inky midnight blue. You were shivering by the time you made it back to your house, quickly running down the hall to your room to get into dry clothes, dripping water behind you the whole way there. 

You realized how hungry you were as soon as you were warm and dry again. Too tired to cook, you heated up leftovers from the night before, curling up on the couch and putting on a sitcom to watch while you ate, hoping to drown out the noise in your head that had quickly returned. You couldn’t seem to keep your thoughts away from Andrew for very long. Something about the way he smiled felt so warm. Familiar in a way you couldn’t put your finger on. 

You went to bed early, leaving your window open just slightly to let in the quiet sound of crickets chirping and wind blowing through the trees. 

☽⭒✵⭒☾

The next morning, your alarm went off—later this time, seven instead of five. On days you weren’t at the market, you worked from ten to six at the library, a job that you absolutely loved. One of the things you enjoyed about living in a small town was how peaceful it always was. You were able to spend a lot of your time reading, and when you did have to organize books you enjoyed that too. It was such a simple task, something mundane that you could do without much focus. You were sure that you’d never want another job. You were happy where you were. 

The drive to work was quiet as usual, a lot of the town still waking up. You spotted a deer in the trees on your way down the forest road you lived on, which you decided to take as a sign of good luck. 

The week dragged on for the most part. You did about the same thing every day—yard work, taking care of the chickens, sitting by the river, going to work. You were anxious for Wednesday to come. You were hoping that Andrew had meant it when he said he’d come back. 

When the day finally arrived for you to drive back into the city for the market, you were practically shaking with excitement. Cherry wasn’t there to greet you this time, but you didn’t really mind. It took two trips to get your things over to the table, but you were too excited to care. You set up quicker than you ever had, and you ended up with half an hour of time to kill before the market opened. You doodled mindlessly in your notebook while you waited, staring at the grass and watching as butterflies flew by every once in a while. 

As soon as people began to show up, your eyes were scanning the crowds for Andrew. It wasn’t as busy as it was the week before, but you were still too occupied with customers to look too hard. You made sure to be especially nice, hoping that the universe would send you good karma in return. 

Just as you had finished waving goodbye to a girl who looked to be around seven, there was a tap on the table in front of you. You looked up, meeting Andrew's eyes, and you swore your heart skipped a beat. No sunglasses this time. You could fully see his face. The kind smile on his lips, the way his eyes shimmered under the sunlight. You didn’t say anything, throat suddenly dry, so he spoke instead. 

“Strawberries this week?” You nodded, shaking your head slightly as you reached under the table.

“You get the last box again. They seem to be popular this year.” He smiled at you as you set them on the table. “I’m not letting you pay for them. You paid nearly double last week.”

“No chance.” He pulled out his wallet and tried to hand you a folded up bill—he attempted to hide the number on it, but you caught a glimpse of the ten. 

“I’m not letting you pay me that much. Really. It would feel ingenuine.”

“I promise I’m being entirely genuine.” He smirked, sliding the cash across the table to you. 

“Andrew, I’m not going to accept it.”

“Fine then. Would you let me take you to dinner? Just to make up for it, of course.” 

You stared at him for a moment, a little stunned.  “That’s ridiculous. You have nothing to make up for.”

“Is that a no then?”

“No!” Your face went red at how desperate you sounded. “I mean, you know-” You sighed, looking down at the table. “Yeah, I- I’d like that. That would be nice.”

“Well then. Perfect.” He grabbed the money off the table and tucked it back in his wallet. “Would it be okay if I got your phone number? Just so I’ll know when to pick you up, of course.” You nodded, still flustered, and tore a piece of paper out of your notebook, scribbling down your number and handing it to him. 

“Thank you,” you said softly. “This is really sweet of you.”

“It’s the least I could do. These strawberries really are lovely.” He shot you one last smile before he walked away, leaving you dazed and confused. 

You were still spaced out on your drive back home a couple hours later, trying to make sense of all that had happened. A totally gorgeous man you had never seen before had taken such a liking to your, honestly mediocre, strawberries that he had insisted on taking you out to dinner. You couldn’t remember when the last time you had been asked out was, let alone by someone so perfectly charming and polite. And you had said yes, without even thinking about it. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

requests open ! Masterlist

[fawnme1]

THE SOFTEST THING — WILLNE

CHAPTER NINE

previous part ,, next part

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

It happened on a Thursday.

No promo. No pre-save link. No dramatic Instagram teaser. Just one tweet.

@youruser: surpirse. “half of me” is out now.

No one had known. Not even your manager, until the day before. You’d written and produced the whole thing quietly over the last few months, late nights in the studio alone, with your notes app full of lyrics you weren’t sure you’d ever share. It wasn’t a “radio single” or anything catchy for TikTok trends — it was raw, slow, haunting in parts, and vulnerable in a way that felt just for you.

And maybe, deep down, just a little bit about him.

The response online was immediate. Fans freaked out, calling it your best work yet. Threads popped up within an hour dissecting the lyrics:

“you laugh like i’m still yours / but never ask if i’m okay?”

“i was whole when i met you / now i’m split into stories”

“half of me is brave / the other half still waits”

The theories took off. Some thought it was about your five-year dry spell. Others swore it had to be about Will. The timing. The recent Sidemen video. The way you looked at him when you thought no one else was watching.

But none of that mattered as much as the texts that started rolling in from the group chat.

Joe: ARE YOU JOKING RIGHT???

“half of me” ???? HELLO?????

how did you not tell me you were releasing THIS???

Alfie: not me tearing up in tesco listening to the bridge

actual violation that you didn’t even give us a heads up

You smiled at your phone, watching the messages pour in as you lay in your bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. You hadn’t responded yet. You weren’t sure what to say.

You didn’t expect it to feel this vulnerable. But it did. Even more than posting about Will. Even more than the Sidemen teasing you on camera. This was you, without the edits or the banter or the sarcasm. This was everything you’d felt in quiet moments poured into three minutes and twenty-six seconds.

Your phone buzzed again.

Will: just listened

its beautiful

are you okay?

You stared at the message a little longer than the others. Not because of what he said — but how he said it. No joke. No emoji. Just… him. Honest.

You replied a minute later.

You: yeah. i think i am now

You closed your phone and set it aside, letting yourself sit in the moment. Outside your window, the city was its usual mess of lights and motion, but inside, things felt still.

You didn’t release “half of me” to get attention. You didn’t release it to confirm any fan theories. You just wanted to let something go. And now that it was out there — floating in the world, being felt by other people — maybe that was enough.

Maybe this was what moving on felt like. Or maybe it was what opening up again looked like. Either way, it felt like a start.

By Friday morning, “half of me” was trending on Twitter. Your DMs were a mess, and your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating with reactions from friends, fans, and random celebrities reposting it to their stories with the classic “who hurt her??” captions.

Joe and Alfie, meanwhile, had declared war.

You hadn’t seen them since the drop — which was by design. You needed 24 hours of silence to process the chaos. But that peace didn’t last long. By Saturday, they were both standing outside your flat with takeaway and smug grins, already mid-conversation when you opened the door.

“She’s alive!” Joe said, dramatically bowing as he walked past you and into your living room like he owned the place. “And emotionally unwell, based on that little musical breakdown you dropped on us.”

Alfie followed behind, holding up a coffee and shoving it into your hand. “We’re staging a wellness check. And also bullying you, obviously.”

You blinked, still in your hoodie and fluffy socks. “I literally told you I was fine.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell us you were in your Taylor Swift era of lyrical destruction,” Joe replied, flopping onto your sofa. “What was that bridge? Did someone ghostwrite that? Be honest. That was pain. That was cinematic heartbreak.”

“It’s not even about anyone specifically!” you defended, though it sounded weak even to you.

Alfie narrowed his eyes. “Mmm. Is it not? Because I’ve seen you say ‘I’m fine’ while looking like you were moments away from dropping a surprise album. And then this comes out?”

Joe leaned over dramatically. “I’m just saying, if I had writeen ‘half of me is brave / the other half still waits.’ I’d be charging people for therapy via merch.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, dropping onto the chair across from them, your coffee warming your hands. “Okay, first of all, thats’s a great merch idea. Second — I didn’t want the whole build-up things. I just… needed it out.”

Alfie gave you a rare soft look, one that slipped through the sarcasm. “Well, it’s out. And people are obsessed, Y/N. Even Will posted it.”

Your eyes flicked up. “He did?”

Joe’s face split into a wide grin. “Ohhh, don’t act like you didn’t see. Man posted it to his story with the sad face emoji. Sad face, bro. That’s how you know it’s real.”

You tried to suppress your smile, and failed. “It’s not about him.”

“Sure,” Alfie said, sipping his drink. “Just like Joe’s boxing career isn’t about being dramtic. It’s okay. We get it.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing a cushion at him. “You lot are impossible.”

Joe caught the pillow mid-air. “We’re just emotionally literate, thank you. And proud. No joke, Y/N — that song’s insane. Like, actually beautiful. Proper mature, vulnerable, all that.”

Alfie nodded, a bit more sincerely this time. “It’s the best thing you’ve ever put out. Even though we’re mad you didn’t let us hear it first.”

“Yeah,” Joe chimed in again, “you’re never living that down, by the way. Next time you go through and identity crisis, at least give us the courtesy of a sneak peek. Or a breakdown.”

You laughed harder this time, warmth blooming behind your ribs. “Noted.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon like that — teasing, laughing, and slowly letting the weight of the last few days fade into something lighter. You didn’t know what the next step was. Or what would happen with Will. But you knew, without a doubt, that you had people who loved you enough to roast you right back to peace.

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | JACOB T. KISZKA

Jacob Thomas Kiszka: the eighth, undiscovered, most deadly sin of all.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving) mentions of oral (m!receiving), sir kink, dom/sub, praise, dirty talk, biting, nipple play, degradation, very brief mention/phrase of free use kink, overstimulation, spanking, name calling, ANGST, mentions of breakups/heartbreak, depression, anxiety, sadness, graphic description of grief/grieving, loss of a parent, mentions of cheating/toxic relationships, past trauma with relationships, mentions of abusive relationships/physical violence, mentions of dying/death, mentions of addiction/withdrawal/drugs, fluff, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!!!

you guys didn’t really think I’d end it there, did you? ;) i did tell a little while lie and say wrath was the last chapter, but I didn’t technically say ‘the end’ 🤍 I apologize for leaving you hanging, and I hope this makes up for it! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!! (Very lightly edited)

Forget, move on, move forward.

That was the mantra you had been repeating to yourself for days. The sound was nearly sickening now, and the only reason you had not abandoned it was because it was stuck in your head. It was not helping, and it definitely was not working, but you were so deep in despair that you hoped it would eventually make the difference. You were desperate for any type of relief, for none of your usual coping mechanisms were working. The more the time passed, the more you were beginning to think that you would never recover from the loss of Jake Kiszka. You could not look at your piano, and you could not get out of bed for long enough to even think about readying yourself for the bar. All of your most comforting television shows had turned bleak, and the thought of playing music made you sick.

Well, all but one particular band, at least.

One sleepless night, you grew annoyed with your own relentless tossing and turning. After moving to the couch and turning your television on, you realized that not even the sound of Shameless, or more specifically, Frank Gallagher’s drunken babbling could pry a laugh from you. You switched to Brooklyn Nine-Nine, wondering if maybe a goofy comedy would settle the unbearable misery, but it only seemed to worsen your sadness. With one last shred of hope, you pulled out your phone that was lacking any messages like usual, and you opened your Spotify account.

You took a deep breath as you typed the three words into the search bar, and you felt like you were punched in the stomach when the picture of Jake and his three brothers graced your screen.

Of course, you would notice Jake first. He always came first.

You listened to Jake’s music for the first time that night, and instead of sharing the memory with him, you had to digest the intimacy you had previously denied yourself whilst trying to forget him. You promised that it would only be one time, and that if you only listened to one song, it would curb the need you held for him in your heart.

But, as you learned before in the hardest way imaginable, promising and following through are two completely different things, and it did not stop at a single song. By the time the sun rose in the sky, you were a mess of tears as you finished up the last few songs on their discography. Instead of turning your phone off and moving on, you put it on loop and leaned your head against the arm of the couch. One particular song caught your attention as it began playing, and it drew you in even further as the melodic guitar solo began. By minute three, your eyes were heavy, and not long after that, you were sound asleep.

When you woke in the morning from the best sleep you had in weeks, you were still hearing the soft sounds of Jake’s guitar. You swore you would turn it off and move on, but as you stretched and stood from your position on the couch, you let the melodies carry you through morning coffee and a long, overdue shower. Since then, it always seemed to be playing in the background while you tried to survive life without him.

A few days after the final breakup, Scott had sent you a message inviting you out for lunch. He was curious about how the night went after the blowout at the restaurant, and you couldn’t blame him. He sacrificed his own pride to help you find happiness, and the more you thought about it, the more appealing friendship with him seemed. You needed something to break up the monotony of sadness, and you knew that calling your sister was the last thing you wanted to do. You loved her, and she had always been your best friend, but you could not recount the mistakes you had made to lead you here. It would kill you to relive all of the sweetness and eventually, all of the heartbreak.

So you agreed, but it was all but happily. You made plans for a Saturday afternoon, exactly one week after you had called it quits with Jake. You thought that maybe by the time it rolled around, you would be more excited at the prospect of leaving the house considering you’d spent seven whole days inside, wallowing in your own misery. When you woke up that morning, it felt like lead was weighing down your limbs and you cursed yourself for ever making the plans in the first place. You forced yourself through a shower, but had to sit down on the side of the tub for ten minutes to regain your strength before getting dressed. You picked a hoodie that you’d stolen from your dads closet a long time ago, hoping that it would help you feel closer to him. You had been missing him more than you had in a very long time. You squeezed into a pair of jeans, debating whether to change into sweatpants, but eventually convinced yourself to wear them anyway.

You returned to the bathroom to dust on some makeup, hoping to cover the deep eye-bags and pale skin. About halfway through, you realized that there was not enough makeup in the world to cover up your heartbreak. You put on some lipgloss and sprayed some perfume, finishing just in time to hear the doorbell. With a sigh of defeat, you abandoned your reflection to greet Scott. You trudged to the front door, unlocking the knob and swinging it open to reveal his smiling face. He was much more relaxed than he was the weekend prior, and his clothes were not nearly as fancy. Relief flooded you when you realized that this was, in fact, just a friendly meal.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine.” He chuckled, first noticing your solemn face. You had given him a brief rundown of the situation the night before through a poorly written text so he knew what he was walking into, but you feared that it did not even come close to the way you were truly feeling. In truth, you had been texting quite often, and you weren’t sure that any of it made sense. Still, he was smiling, happily radiating positivity in hopes of making you feel better.

“Not much that’s good about it.” You grumbled, grabbing your purse from the hook by the door. You double checked for your phone and keys before nodding your head in the direction of his car. Your pessimism was staggering, but it did not seem to phase him.

“There’s lots of good,” he tried, stepping out of the way to allow you outside. “You get to see me. That’s good, is it not?” He raised an eyebrow, watching as you locked your door.

“You give yourself too much credit.” He chuckled at your grumpy expression, brushing off your insults like it was nothing.

“You look nice.” He said, placing a hand on your shoulder as you both made your way to the car.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a small smile. You knew you should not be so harsh with him; he only wanted to help, and you should be grateful for that. When you missed Jake so badly, it made it hard to think of anything other than the sound of your broken heart. “You, too.”

“You have any idea where we should go?” He asked, opening your door for you. You climbed inside, trying to ignore the turn of your stomach at the thought of food. When he got in next to you, he was still waiting for a response.

“Do you remember that little cafe we used to go to in high school?” You asked, suddenly recalling the little spot that you spent so much time together in all those years ago.

“With the two dollar sandwiches?” He asked, laughing at the idea.

“Yeah, and the best grilled cheese in the whole world.” You added, making sure he remembered that fact. “It’s a little bit of a drive, but I haven’t been there in forever.”

“I’m down,” he said, putting the car in reverse and pulling out on the road “I’ve got all day.” He looked down at the radio, reaching out and grabbing a cord. He tossed the aux in your direction and turned the speakers up a notch. “I haven’t been to that diner in a long time, either. We used to go there every day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you, me, Seth and Katie Haynes.” You tried to hide the sneer in your voice when you spoke the names.

“Fuck, yes! I forgot about her.” He shook his head in disbelief at his own memory.

“I sure didn’t.” You leaned back in the seat, clicking on the seat warmer in hopes of soothing your aching body. Laying in bed nonstop finally seemed to be taking a toll on you. “Maybe I should have clued in that Seth wasn’t the one when I caught them fucking in my bedroom at my own house.”

“Not to say I told you so, but…” you rolled your eyes, reaching over and giving him a light smack on the arm.

“You know, that’s like rule number one of what not to say when you’re trying to cheer someone up.”

“Oh, I know.” He laughed. “That wasn’t to make you feel better; I just like being right.” It was crazy how fast the two of you seemed to rekindle the friendship that was once so strong. It made you regret losing contact with him, and you thought that if you had been friends with him the whole time, life might have seemed a little less lonely.

“Some things never change.” You sighed, looking out the window as he drove. For a little while, the two of you sat in silence. You admired the city and how it continued on as normal despite you feeling like the world was ending. It was a terrible thing to know that the sun would continue to rise and fall even while you felt like you were dying. You turned on your phone, finding yourself sick of the sad music floating through the stereo. You looked through playlist after playlist, but could not seem to find one that sounded appealing to you. When you grew sick of scrolling your phone in search of a song to play, you gave up and hit shuffle on your recently listened songs, and the first note that played was equal to a punch straight to the stomach.

“Oh, who’s this?” He asked, intrigued at the old-timey sound of the guitar.

“Uh, it’s called ‘Built By Nations’.” You muttered, trying to tune out the guitar and focus on Josh’s voice.

“Who’s it by?” He asked again, his original question being left unanswered.

“My ex and his brothers.” You confessed, You cheeks searing with heat.

“A musician in Nashville, y/n? Come on.” He implored you to think your decision out again.

“I know, I know.” You sighed. “Definitely wasn’t my smartest decision, but I’m suffering now, am I not?”

“Fair enough.” He laughed, taking the cutoff to the road that housed your old High School.

You were hit with a whirlwind of memories as he slowed down, likely feeling the same as you were in that moment. You strained to look out at the football field, and laughed to yourself as you saw the old sign that displayed the name. It was falling apart with some of the letters missing, but it was familiar, and it was comforting. You didn’t hate high school, but you did hate the life events that happened while attending. It seemed to sour the whole experience, but as you thought back on it, you knew it was not nearly as bad as you made it out to be.

“If you could go back for a day, would you?” He asked, looking over at you as the sight passed you by.

“I think so.” You nodded. “Would you?”

“Oh, for sure.” He chuckled, no doubt in his mind about it. With that, he turned down another side road, and within seconds, you were in front of the diner that was a staple of your childhood. He pulled into the half-full lot, and not long after that, the two of you were walking inside. Immediately, you were drawn to the corner booth in which you’d spent so many hours in. It was empty, just like it was meant for you two to sit there. You took to one side, and he slid in the other. You placed your phone in your purse and threw it down beside you, looking around the small area and reminiscing on the memories made in that very spot.

“Let me guess, bacon cheeseburger and not one, but two cokes to go with it. And one to go.” You grinned, looking over at his face as he laughed at your words.

“You know me so well, sunshine.” He admitted to it without argument; he got the same thing every day of senior year despite having a whole menu to choose from. “And you’ll get a grilled cheese with tomatoes on it, because you’re weird.”

“Tomatoes aren’t weird.” You scoffed. “You don’t think that ten months worth of ordering cheeseburgers is weird?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved you off. “So, tell me what happened.”

“Eager much?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve waited a whole week to hear how it went, I think I’ve been plenty patient about it.”

“Fine,” you sighed, giving a shrug. “We fought in the parking lot, and on the drive home, and at my house. We said some mean things, stuff that we can never take back no matter how hard we try, then it went back to normal for a little while.” Normal was a strange description when it was referring to angry sex in your kitchen, but it fit the bill for you and Jake. Sex was the most normal thing about your relationship aside from the sadness, and occasionally, a wordless ‘I love you’. “It was nice, but I think that once the situation settled and I had a moment to think about everything, it just… it didn’t seem right.”

“What didn’t seem right?” He asked, hoping you would be more specific.

“All of it, you know? Like, we aren’t even dating and we’ve been hurting each other’s feelings and fighting. I can only imagine what it would be like if we were together.” He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly as you spoke. “What? What’s funny?”

“You, sunshine. You’ve always been so stubborn.” You opened your mouth to argue back, but he held up his hand as if to say he wasn’t finished. With a huff, you held back your words. “You guys are fighting because you’re feelings are hurt, whatever, it happens and it’s no big deal. Why are your feelings hurt, y/n?”

“Because he said the only thing I was good for was sex, and then he was all sweet and nice once we made up, but invited another girl on a date? How can you make up with someone and say that you care about them, then kiss another girl like it’s nothing?”

“Just the same as how you can take another guy on a date while you’re in love with him.” He shrugged, knowing he had you in a stalemate.

“I’m not in love with him!” Your voice was shrill, reacting as if the word was poison being forced down your throat. You were lying through your teeth, and even you knew how untruthful your words were.

“Oh, cut the shit, sunshine.” He rolled his eyes, pausing for a moment as the waitress approached you. He gave her a warm smile and ordered for both of you, and within minutes, she was on her way. “You’ve been moping around your house for a week because you broke up with your sort of boyfriend that you’re absolutely not in love with?” When he said it in such a way, you could clearly see how stupid you sounded. With a sigh of defeat, you gave in to the urge to speak the truth.

“Okay, fine, I love him.” Even as you said it, your whole body felt as if it was trying to reject the confession. You shuddered at the word and your palms broke out into a sweat. You ran them across the fabric of your jeans as you tried to calm yourself down. “I do, but I don’t want to, and it scares the shit out of me.”

“Why does it scare you?” He asked, taking a drink from one of the cokes the waitress dropped off. You sipped at the coffee she left behind for you.

“He’s the first person I’ve been with since I left Seth.” You confessed. “I mean, I’ve had one night stands, but never with anyone like him. It’s never been anything like this.”

“It’s never been with someone you’ve cared about.” He deducted.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “When I left Seth, I promised that I would never be with someone like that again. I never wanted anyone to have that type of power over me, and I didn’t want to get close to someone again just to realize that they’re a monster in disguise. It’s easier to be alone than to be alone while in a relationship, and I don’t ever want to suffer that way again.” You stirred some sugar into the mug, watching as the liquid formed a small whirlpool around the metal utensil. “When Jake and I first met, we were both on the same page, but somewhere along the way, the lines got blurred. I’m not innocent, either, and I know that. I was playing house with him and pretending like nothing was wrong, and then he started talking about wanting more, and it scared me so much that I ran. Well, no,” you chuckled “I backed him into a corner and forced him to run.”

“Why are you so scared of him, though? I mean, after this long, and after all of the shit you put each other through, you would be able to see that he’s bad, wouldn’t you?” He played with the paper wrapper that was previously encased around his straw, peeking up from his hands to catch your gaze.

“Maybe? I don’t know.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping with the weight of your emotions. “I’m not scared of him, per say. I’m scared of love, and I’m scared of getting hurt, and I’m scared of losing another person that I care about.”

“Is this about Seth, or is this about your dad?” He asked, voice as quiet as a mouse. He seemed afraid to ask, but more than that, he seemed afraid of your response.

You were stunned for a moment, and the flood of emotion that ran through you was more powerful than anything you’d ever felt. If it were anyone else sitting before you asking that dreaded question, you would have stood and screamed, thrown things from the table just to make a scene and show them how uncalled for the moment was. Instead, you gave a slow blink, but you did not do any of the things you wanted to. While you processed his words, you were plagued with a lifetimes worth of memories that involved the boy sitting across from you. Memories of him holding you while you screamed and cried in your childhood bedroom, clutching your fathers last worn t-shirt tightly to your chest. Memories of his hand in yours while you zombied your way through the funeral proceedings, and memories of him being the only person in the world who could pry a smile from your face while being plagued with such grief.

Even worse than that, there was memories of him sitting at the kitchen table with your father, talking about the football game that aired on television the night before. Ones where Scott would not just drive you to the hospital to visit your father while he succumbed to sickness, but where he walked into the morbid building and sat beside you, your sister and your mother while you tried to cheer your father up during his last days on earth. Scott was allowed to ask that question, not just because of how familiar he was with your grief, but because he grieved, too. Scott may have been a face that was forgotten along with the past, but he was not one that became insignificant. You fought tooth and nail to remove yourself from the life you lived so long ago, but a bond like such carried through until the end of time.

Your heartbreak from Jake may have done more damage than good, but there is always light that shines in the dark. Your breakup allowed for you to sit across the table at a fabled diner with your best friend for the first seventeen years of life. Your time away may have allowed you to forget how much of you he’d seen, but your heart could never forget the importance of his presence.

Instead of screaming, you nodded your head, telling him all you refused to say aloud. He was the only person who you would trust with such things, and despite your unwillingness to speak about it, you knew that he already knew the answer. Seth held little power over you anymore, and your fear of Jake turning out like him was ridiculous, but your dad? He was everything to you. He lived in every decision, every waking moment and thought that crossed your mind. He was a part of every heartbreak and triumph, and his advice rang in your ears every time you second-guessed yourself. The fear of disappointing him was true even after his death, and if anything, it only ever got worse.

More than that, his death crushed you. It left you lying on the floor, cursing every higher power and questioning the very universe that created you. It destroyed any hope and any sense of purpose, and it stole the happiness straight from your chest before it ever had the chance to bloom. You were familiar with loss, but despite it being an acquaintance, it was your own mortal enemy. You knew that it existed, and that it was always looming, but you lived your life in such a way that loss could not touch you. You never let people get too close, and you cut them off before they tried. You distanced yourself from everyone you loved most in hopes of sparing yourself the pain, and you could not even allow yourself to get a pet in anticipation of the crushing grief to come when it was their time to pass on.

The idea of loving Jake scared you so much that it shook you to the core, disrupting your entire life and forcing you to lock him out. The fear did not stem from your inability to love, or because you could not trust your own judgement of his character, but because you could not handle it if he were to suddenly get up and leave. You could not choke down the idea of loving someone enough to hurt after they were gone, and since your father died, no loss could ever come close to the pain you had felt from his death. Now, you knew that Jake leaving was the only pain in the world that could rival the one you had felt so many years ago, housed in your childhood home that held only a ghost of the man you loved most.

“Of course it is, Scott. It’s always about him.” Your throat was dry like you had just screamed out, and your eyes burned as if tears had ran them dry, but none of those things happened; the grief was so plentiful that it had bled you dry, and now it was the only thing to exist within your veins. “I can’t love him because I cannot imagine losing someone again. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt if he walked away, or if… yeah.”

“You don’t have to imagine it, sunshine.” He said, giving you a sympathetic smile. “You’re feeling it right now.”

“I know I am, but I keep trying to convince myself that hurting right now will save me from something worse later on.” You rubbed your face in your hands, wiping away non-existent tears. You felt like you were crying, and you knew you should be, but there seemed to be no tears left to cry.

“Or you’re holding yourself back from the best thing you’ve ever felt.” He offered the alternative, pausing the conversation while the waitress sat your food in front of you. He muttered a thank you, and once again, she was on her way. “Sure, leaving first ensures that he can’t leave you, but it also kills any possibility of happiness. What you’re doing right now limits you from a world of good; everything good comes with risk, y/n, and from what you’re telling me, he seems worth the risk.”

“He is. He’s worth it all.” You nodded, biting into a French fry. Despite your sorrow, you felt better than you had in days. “And I am worried about that pain, because I’m scared I can’t survive it again, but what I’m worried about most is that I’m too broken for him to handle. I don’t know how to love someone, Scott. It’s been five years since I’ve even let someone stay in my life for more than a weekend. Maybe I did all of those years ago, but not anymore. I’m angry, and I’m stubborn, and I’m more work than I’m worth. It’s not fair to him, and as much as I fear him breaking my heart, I’m even more afraid of breaking his.” You explained. “He’s been hurt, too. He deserves the world, and I’m not the person that can give it to him. He needs someone who has their shit together, and I’ve never once had all of my ducks in a row.”

“You can’t make that decision for him, y/n.” He said, taking a bite from his own meal. He let the words sit with you for a moment before speaking again. “I know you, and all you’ve ever wanted to do was protect people. It’s incredibly amicable, but sometimes you have to let them choose for themselves. To me, it sounds like he thinks you’re worth the risk, too.”

“I can’t do that to him.” You shook your head. “Sure, he’s choosing for himself, but I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into.”

“After this long, he knows, y/n, and he doesn’t care.” He assured you. “Listen, I know how guys think: if he was in this for any lesser purpose, he would have left a long time ago. If he did not care about you, he would not have shown up at the restaurant that night. That look in his eye was more than jealousy; it was the type of love that drives you insane. Don’t think you breaking up with him will get rid of that.”

“How do I stop being afraid?” You asked, in disbelief of the fact that he thought it was simple. “I’ve been afraid my whole life, it’s not just something I can turn off, even if I wish it was.”

“You never stop being afraid, sunshine. You just have to love each other enough that it doesn’t matter anymore.”

The meal went by without any further talks of Jake or your last heartbreaks. Instead, you filled the air with jokes and laughter, and gratitude for being in each others lives again. Although your relationship was rekindled for poor reasons, you were still thankful that you got the chance to be around him again. When the check came, you fulfilled your promise to repay him for the dinner cut short. When you climbed back into his car, you felt dread settle in your stomach. You weren’t ready to go home; you had been alone for days, and while that was something you normally loved, you’d now grown to hate it. You felt so happy to be with company that the idea of going home to an empty house sickened you. Worse yet, you did not know if you could go back and suffer through your relentless thoughts about Jake.

The drive home was filled with loud music, both of you singing along at the top of your lungs. You managed to convince him to stop at a coffee shop, claiming that you needed more caffeine to survive the day, but it was only to avoid the inevitable. When you made it back to the suburbs that you called home, your body felt heavy with the weight of your own loneliness. He pulled into your driveway, slowly rolling the car to a stop before he put it into park.

“Thank you, Scott.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands settled in your lap.

“No need for thanks,” he brushed you off “I hope I helped.”

“You did.” You nodded. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I definitely feel better.”

“You don’t need to know right now.” He assured you. “You can take all the time you need; it’s your life, sunshine.”

“You’re right.” You breathed, forcing a smile on to your face. “I’m sorry things ended up like this. It wasn’t my intent for you to be my own personal therapist.”

“It was meant to work out like this.” He shrugged. “I’m just happy I get to see you again. Watching your life through limited Facebook posts was sad. I missed my friend, and that’s the biggest reason I asked you out.”

“I missed you, too. I think I would really like it if we hung out more often.” You confessed. “I’ve been far too isolated. I’m too young to be so afraid of being alive.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, leaning across the seats to give you a hug. You rested in his arms for a moment, soaking up all of the physical contact you could before having to retreat inside. “I’ll see you soon?” He asked, pulling back just enough to catch sight of your face.

“Of course. Thank you again.” You gave him one last smile before making your departure, feeling your stomach sink more with every step you took towards the front door.

You had no idea what to do, and a part of you felt like you should call Jake and at least apologize for all that happened. Still, there was a bigger, more stubborn part of you that still believed he was better off without you. Once you locked the door and you were safely inside, you heard Scott pull out of your driveway and begin his journey home. You kicked off your shoes and threw your purse down on your kitchen counter. You reached into the pocket of your sweater, letting your fingers linger on your phone for a moment. You wanted to pull it out, to dial Jake’s number from memory and confess everything your heart felt for him. For a while, you sat in the kitchen, clutching your phone and unable to find the strength to go any further.

You loved him, but you loved him enough that you could not bear the thought of dragging him down with you. He was too good, and you were too much. The thought alone made tears pool in your eyes and your bottom lip begin to quiver. You wondered if your dad was looking down on you, proud of you for being the bigger person, or if he was disappointed in you for letting another good thing pass you by.

Then, the most painful thought of all struck you out of nowhere: he would never get the chance to meet Jake and grow to love him like you did.

You knew your father would be Jake’s biggest fan; his kind heart and his lax attitude was loveable no matter who he was using it on, and his love of music and talent on the guitar would win your dad over indefinitely. Jake was the type of guy your father had begged you to fall in love with, but he surely did not anticipate you being too broken to love him back.

Suddenly, the thoughts and the feelings got to be too much and you had to force yourself out of them. Instead of calling Jake, you shut off your phone. Instead of being the bigger person and confessing your love, you climbed into bed fully clothed and searched for the scent of him in your bedsheets. Instead of growing up and forgetting your fear, you closed your eyes and fell asleep while trying to remember what it felt like to have his arm wrapped around you.

When you woke, the sun was no longer shining through the window. Instead, the moonlight was plentiful and it casted a white glow over your bedroom, illuminating the sadness and the emptiness that now lived inside. You were groggy, barely within the plane of existence, but you tried your best to shake off the feeling. You were certain you heard a soft thud sound from the kitchen, but you chalked it up to you remaining amidst a dream despite being conscious, now. You tumbled from your bed, planting your feet firmly on the floor as you stretched out your arms and let out a yawn. When you stepped out of your room and into the bathroom to brush your teeth, you thought that you heard the sound again. You brushed it off, knowing that the likelihood of it being anything important was slim. The idea of someone knocking on your door was laughable, and you did not want to torture yourself by checking to see and being met with nothing.

You rinsed your mouth and wiped away the specs of mascara that had fallen underneath your eyes. You let out a sigh at your reflection, grabbing a a makeup wipe and ridding yourself of all the makeup. You washed your face and moved on to the kitchen, where you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the fridge and began pouring yourself a glass. It had become a nightly routine, and you knew that with a few shots, you’d be back to sleep in no time.

As you dropped the ice into your glass you heard the noise again, but stronger this time. It caught your attention so fast that you could not doubt that it was real. You wondered if Scott had driven back to your side of town to check on you, or if maybe your mother had come over to see if you were alive. You had been ignoring her calls and messages, and although you knew you should answer, you could not bring yourself to do it. You took a sip of your drink before stepping towards the door, using it as a bit of courage to face another social interaction. Your fear of being alone no longer existed, and the longer you stayed holed up in your house, the more tempting isolation seemed.

You unlocked the deadbolt and the knob, wondering who would be here so late at night if not for a friend. Lately, friends were scarce and you had little idea who could be there. When you opened the door fully, getting a clear view of who was on the other side, you nearly fell to your knees. You were frozen, stuck staring at his face as you processed the fact he was really standing there, the corners of his lips upturned into a small, breathtaking smile. He seemed just as happy to see you, but he did not make a move to greet you first. Eventually, you mustered enough courage to speak.

“Hi,” you breathed, completely taken aback by the boy in front of you. After days of missing him, wondering if you would ever be lucky enough to see him again, you had a hard time believing that the man before you was real. In some strange way, it felt like he was a figment of your exhausted and worn down imagination. You feared that if you reached out and touched him, he would disappear before your very eyes. You did not want to be met with any more disappointment, because in the last week, that was all you felt. If he were to suddenly fade away, you thought that you might not be able to survive it. The sight of his face was the most comforting thing you had seen since he was last with you, and the knowledge that he was still thinking of you made you weak in the knees.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He said, giving you a soft smile. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, stepping out of the way to allow him inside. You tried not to think about the butterflies running rampant in your belly at the sound of the pet name. He stepped towards you, out of the warm night air and into the comfort of your home that he’d grown so used to. You watched his face, dazed at his beauty and wondering how you ever forced yourself to let him go. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and a look in his eyes that you could not place. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen it before, but you liked it more than you cared to admit.

Then, before he spoke again, you had a sudden sense of dread wash over you; he was likely only there to retrieve his clothing he had left behind. The ache in your chest at the thought was unbearable, but you forced yourself to remain calm and allow him to do what he needed to do.

“You’re here to get your stuff?” You asked, trying to hide your feelings of frustration and sound as cheerful as possible. If only you could tell him how much you cared, maybe he wouldn’t clear out the only remaining memories of your relationship. You hated how much you had grown to like his life being intertwined with your own in such ways. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking over your face as he tried to place the emotion behind your eyes.

“No, angel.” He chuckled, dropping his bag down on the floor. You listened to the sound, realizing that if anything, it sounded quite full. A rush of relief ran through you, even if you knew you should have wanted him to clear out all of his belongings. It was for the best, even if you did not want him to leave again, especially for good.

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to compute what was happening. “So… why are you here?” You hated that it came out so harsh, and it was not at all what you were intending, but it did get your point across clearly. You were confused, you were still hurting, and more than anything, you wanted to know what his intent was.

He stepped closer to you, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Then, he reached up, letting the knuckle of his index finger softly caress your cheek. You let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, the sensation intoxicating and when mixed with the scent of his cologne, deadly. He tucked your hair behind your ear as he noticed pieces falling from the messy bun sat atop your head. After that, his hand drifted towards your neck, settling gently on the back of it as he drew you closer to him.

You were too weak to fight him, and too tired to care. You missed his comfort more than anything, and you did not want to deny yourself the pleasure after you had suffered so much.

“You look tired, sweetheart.” He said, studying your face. He could see the dark circles forming, and the fire in your eyes he loved so much now seemed dim, nearly burnt out. Your head was upturned to meet his gaze, and he was looking down at you. In another universe, you would even go as far as to say that the two of you seemed to fit together with perfect harmony. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Not really.” You shook your head ever so slightly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. You noticed the same tell-tale signs in his own features. “Have you?”

“No.” He said, still staring intently at your face. He missed it so much that he was trying to memorize every detail all over again. Unintentionally, you felt yourself leaning into him. His face was so close, and your eyes were begging to close as you pulled him in for a kiss. He felt it just as much, and he was hoping you would cross the invisible boundary you had drawn for yourself. You were in such close proximity that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, drawing you in further. The tip of your nose brushed against his, sending jolts of electricity through your whole body.

It was so good that you almost fell victim to him once again.

“Jake,” you breathed, pulling back from him and placing a soft hand on his chest so he would keep his distance. The separation was painful, but necessary. “We can’t do this. Friends don’t do this.” Tears pricked your eyes at the term of friendship, but you managed to blink them away before any slipped onto your cheeks.

“Right,” he sighed, nodding against you and accepting your words. Before you knew it, he had stepped out of reach and you were left wishing that you never spoke at all. You watched him move away from you, still questioning if you were dreaming or of conscious mind. For a second, you feared that he would walk towards the door and out of your life again. The grief at the thought alone was debilitating. Then, he bent down and unzipped the top of his track bag. You watched as he carefully pulled something from it, looking over the item for a moment before turning back to you. When he straightened up and made a move to face you again, you nearly fell to your knees. “That’s actually why I came here.” He said, clearing his throat to rid himself of the nervousness plaguing him.

He extended his hand towards you, watching you closely in fear of a volatile reaction. He had brought up the idea once before and you had confirmed your distaste for it, but he could not seem to help himself. He thought you deserved it. He thought that you were worth it. Your eyes were glued to the brown paper that was delicately wrapped around a bouquet of red roses. You were so stunned that you could not even manage to look up to meet his gaze.

How could he do that to you? How could he walk in like nothing happened with a bouquet of roses and a tongue as sharp as a knife? Sweetness dripped from his words and his actions, but you were in no state of mind to receive such treatment from him. His gestures were profound and you adored him for it, but it was not what you needed when you were dedicated to getting over him.

“Jake,” you warned, saying his name like it was the only hymn you knew how to sing. He appeared so ethereal, so beautiful and bright while he held the token of love, but you were not enough of a fool to believe that it could be true. His angelic smile and his breathtaking eyes were nowhere near anything holy, and you had learned the truth a long time ago. He was not good for you, and you were not good for him. You both knew it, but he did not want to accept it. By showing up and handing out grand gestures, he was only worsening the suffering.

“Stop it, y/n.” He said, giving you a stern look. “Take them, please. I spent so long picking them out that it would be a shame for them to go to waste.” Your heart sped at his words, realizing that the longer you looked, the less it seemed like the bouquet was a thoughtless, last minute purchase on his way over. The paper was arranged beautifully amidst the blood red petals and emerald stems and leaves. Tied around the stems was twine that was carefully cut and settled into a bow. You were not a background thought in his head; he had gone to an expensive florist and pondered over dozens of flowers to bring to you. He picked them with care and caution, wondering what would catch your eye the most.

He cared enough to spend the time and the money on you, but what was even worse than that was that he was the first person to ever give you a bouquet of flowers. How could you get over him when he’d been the first man in the world other than your father to care so much about you?

“Friends don’t give each other flowers.” You said, looking hesitantly towards his face.

“You’re right, y/n. Friends don’t give each other flowers.” He sighed, still holding his arm out to you. “I’m giving these to you because we’re not friends, and you and I both know that.”

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, crossing your arms across your stomach and hugging yourself to satiate the steadily growing anxiety. “I told you, we can’t do that. I’m not good for you. This isn’t good for us.” You shook your head, panicking at the idea of hurting each other again. He was too fantastic to be subject to the hurt the two of you were so good at causing.

“Would you quit that? Stop being so fucking stubborn.” He argued, getting visibly frustrated. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. You don’t get to choose if I want to be with you or not. Only I can, and I’m choosing you, y/n. I’m standing here in front of you, telling you that I am, and that I will choose you every day for the rest of my life. You don’t get to tell me that we can only be friends, and you don’t get to tell me that this won’t work. You can’t always call the shots. I get a say, too.”

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just saying that this is only going to hurt us! I’m trying to protect you, and I wish you could see that!” You exclaimed, trying to ward off the temptation to run into his arms. His words were devastatingly beautiful and everything you had ever longed to hear, but you could not be selfish and bring him down with you.

“Protect me from what?” He shot back, appalled at your inability to comprehend what he was saying. “You? Myself? Us?”

“Everything! I don’t know!” You were exasperated by his reaction, not able to understand how he could not see it the same way you did. Two people that hated love could not love each other peacefully. You had proven that with your jealousy and toxic games, and you cared about him far too much to involve him in such things. The sin the two of you had engaged in had left you both resembling the devil, and you feared that if you let it go any further, you would turn to ash in the barren, fiery wastelands of hell.

“I shouldn’t have left that night, y/n. I never should have let you go, but I didn’t want to push you, and I didn’t want to scare you away. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m here now to tell you everything I need to say. I have to get it off my chest, because if I don’t, it’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life. If you still think that it’s for the best, then I’ll let you go, but not until I tell you everything.” You watched him, pain written so clearly on your face. You did not have the heart to turn him down, and you did not have the strength to keep up the act. You wanted him so badly that it was impossible to send him away, and his persistence was charming despite your hesitancy.

“Okay.” You nodded, choking on the word as it fell from your lips. You knew that whatever he had to say would turn your whole world upside down, but for some reason, you were okay with it. When in his company, even if he was causing peacefulness or devastation, it seemed right. You could comfortably watch him tear your house down one panel at a time, and you would have a smile on your face and love in your heart because you were there with him. You reached out, slowly wrapping your fingers around the bouquet. Your hand brushed against his as you did, the burning warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. You had no idea how even the simplest of interactions with him always seemed so magnificent. “Thank you, Jake.” You looked down at the petals, tears shining in your eyes as you digested the sentiment that came along with the gift.

Now that you held them, it made the moment all the more real. Jake was a man who cared about you so deeply that it made you question if he was even real. You had never felt emotion so strongly, good or bad. He made everything a million times more powerful, and even something as small as buying you flowers seemed to knock the air from your lungs and make your knees weak. You had never felt so important to anyone in your entire life, and as good as it felt, you feared that if it ever came to an end, you would perish from the grief of the loss.

“You keep saying that you want to protect me, but there’s nothing you have to protect me from, y/n. I’m a grown man who understands what I’m getting myself into, and I’m telling you that I don’t care about the risks.” He watched you take a step towards the kitchen, following closely behind you as you moved to set the flowers on the counter. Once they were safely placed, you turned to look at him again, giving him all of your attention. “When I met you at the bar that night, I wasn't looking for anything but sex. We both know that, and I don’t feel a need to lie about it. When I sat down and I finally got you to talk to me, I knew right away that you were going to be more than sex. You can’t just meet someone so fantastic and pretend they’re ordinary, angel, and you are all but ordinary.” Your stomach twisted in knots at his words, but you bit down on your tongue and listened as he poured his heart out to you.

“You are the most beautiful, smart, witty, and charming woman I have ever met. You take my breath away every time I see you, and you make me feel things I’ve never felt before in my entire life. I could go on about how I feel about you forever, but it still wouldn’t even come close to how I feel in my heart. I don’t think there’s enough words in the dictionary to describe how much I care for you.” He was close to you, but not enough that you felt trapped. There was about a foot of space between you, and you would never say it, but you were desperate for him to come closer. Your eyes were focused on his face as he spoke. The emotion in his eyes was so profound that you could feel it as if it were your own. “I know I promised you that I wouldn’t fuck this up, and I’m sorry that things happened the way they did, but falling for you was the easiest thing I have ever done. I was yours before we ever left the bar that night, and as much as you don’t want me to be, I can’t apologize for something I don’t believe is wrong. I am sorry that I broke my promise, but I have never been sorry for caring about you.”

“I’ve spent the last three months trying to memorize every detail about you because I want to know everything you have to offer. I know that you hate breakfast, because it’s too intimate, and emotional intimacy scares the shit out of you. I know that you have the exact same routine before bed; you turn on your fan to the third setting, because the fourth is too loud and the second isn’t enough. Then, you climb into bed and you check your phone, but not for texts or social media likes. You check your schedule, just to make sure you’re not forgetting about an appointment with a client, because your work means everything to you. Then, you get up again because you can remember if you locked the door or not, and you make sure the oven is off for the fifth time while you’re out there. When you get back into bed, you toss and turn for twenty minutes until you eventually end up on your stomach, because that is the only way you can fall asleep.” As he told you the most miniscule details about yourself, your ego shattered and the shards of what once was so strong seemed to stab you with every breath. Nobody had ever cared to know you so well, and he was recounting it like he’d dedicated his whole life to studying it.

“Your sister is your whole life, and you mark off the days on your calendar just so you can count down the hours until she comes home to visit. You only ever sit on the left side of the couch, and you have about a dozen half-empty water bottles beside your bed because you forget about your open one and grab a new one every night. When you laugh, you cover your mouth with your hands and you try to keep it to yourself. I don’t know why, because it’s the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. You play with your hair when you’re nervous, and you blush when you lie.” As he spoke, your hand darted away from the ends of your hair as if it had just burned you.

“Stop, Jake.” You whispered, feeling sick at the sheer amount of knowledge he had about you.

“No, y/n.” He shook his head. “I’ll never stop talking about you, because knowing you so well is the best feeling in the whole world, especially because I know I’m the only one who does. I could talk about you for hours, because I think everyone should know how fantastic you are. I know all of this stuff, and I still want more. You can call me selfish, but I don’t care. I want to spend my life getting to know you, and I will be eighty years old and still wanting to learn something new about you.” He explained, hoping you were understanding what he meant. “Friends don’t know each other like this, sweetheart, and it would be a fucking shame if we tried to be strangers again after everything we’ve been through. Knowing you any less than I do right now seems like torture, and I don’t ever want to do that.”

“I’m not scared of you, and I’m not scared of this. I’ve spent every day since I first met you falling for you, and now, it’s the most comfortable feeling I’ve ever felt. You don’t get to tell me that I’d be happier without you, or as friends, or with someone else, because it’s just not true. You are what I want, and I know you have to feel it, too. I’ve never felt this way before, and I know we’ve both been hurt, and I know that you’re scared, but you can’t tell me that this isn’t good for us. We haven’t even tried, angel. If you let me, I can show you that love is not as scary as it seems, because we’ve already been doing it.”

“Jake,” you let out a shaky breath, your eyes shining with tears as you tried to process all he was saying. His name seemed like the only thought your brain could formulate.

“Baby, you are everything to me. I’m here, and I want to stay if you’ll let me. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to hurt you like everyone else has. I know that I already have, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right, but I promise that I will never do that to you again.” He took a small step towards you, gauging your comfort before he jumped straight into it. “I know that you don’t like this part, but I would be an idiot if I didn’t ask you to try. I want to be what you deserve, and I want to be with you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything my whole life.” He reached out, lifting your chin up with his index finger to look in your eyes. “All I’m asking for is one chance. One shot to prove that I’m telling the truth. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left you here, and I don’t think I ever will.”

He cared, and he cared so much that he was willing to get his heart broken all over again for the chance to have you. He did not want to promise you love and then leave, nor did he want to pretend to be all you needed just to take it away. He wanted you, and loving you was all he ever wanted to do. Jake had never been the enemy; you only had yourself to blame, ruining your chances at happiness before the opportunity ever arose. You were hurt, guarded and protective over your own frail heart, but he did not want to shatter it like you previously thought. He wanted to help strengthen it again, to show you that your heart would be safe as long as it was offered to the right people. He wanted to love you like you always should have been, and Scott was right that night at the restaurant; what the two of you had was a type of love that you should never let go of. He was the most selfless, caring and kind man you had ever met, and if you let him leave once more, you knew you would lose him forever.

“Okay.” You breathed, nodding your head as your heart drummed rapidly against your chest. You were terrified, but being in his company made the fear obsolete. The look in his eyes aided you in believing that you would be more than okay, and that he would be better than anyone who came before. You felt like you were being crushed underneath the weight of your own longing for him. “I’ll try for you, Jake.” There was no doubt in your mind that you would try until your body began to deteriorate and your mind went numb. You would try for him until you could no longer do it and death was the only other option. You would do anything to experience love at his hand again, because it was the most beautiful thing you had ever experienced.

“Yeah?” He asked with a little laugh stuck in his throat that screamed disbelief.

“Yes,” you nodded, praying that he would bridge the gap. Before you could ask him to come closer, his hands shot out and grabbed your face between them, still gentle with you as if he was scared to break you. He stepped forward, and within seconds, his lips were locked on your own and your arms were around him again. The taste of him was addicting, more than any other drug in the world. The feeling of his skin on your was intoxicating, and his hands felt like heaven when they touched you with such care. You were helplessly in love with him, and no amount of time or distance could change it. He was everything you needed, all of the time, and you were an idiot to try and push him away.

When he parted, you were both breathless and smiling. He was still close enough to your face that you could feel his warmth, and you hoped that he never had to pull back. You wanted to live in the bliss forever, and with him until the end of time.

“I want to try, Jake. I’m so scared, but I want to try as long as it’s with you.” The quiver in your voice was louder than anything else in the room, and he drank up the vulnerability as if he was dying from thirst. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to get hurt, but you were right; we can’t let go of this without giving it our best. I’ve been so terrified of losing you that it’s made me blind to how much I care, and I don’t ever want to feel how I felt this week ever again.” All he could do was smile; there was no words to describe the relief he felt.

“I knew you were something more, too. You came in here and suddenly my house felt empty without you. I hate love and relationships, but you make me hate the idea a lot less. I want to try, and I want us to try together, but I want it to work. I don’t want to give up when things get hard, and I don’t want to fight or make each other suffer. I want to be with you, and I want to do it right, this time.” You confessed, all of the words pouring from you with no signs of stopping. “I’m scared to fall in love with you because I was scared of losing you, but I’m doing it anyway by forcing you to stay away. You’re worth the risk, Jake. You always have been, and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t say it sooner.”

“You’re saying it now.” He breathed, almost unable to believe that the words were genuine. When he showed up at your doorstep, he expected to be met with rejection. Instead, you were telling him everything he craved to hear from you. It was almost too good for him to believe that it was true. “That’s what matters, angel.” He placed another kiss to your lips, lingering there for a moment to soak up all of the intimacy he could. “I want that, too. I’ve done it wrong so many times, but I want to do it right this time. I want to do it right with you.”

“I missed you so much.” You admitted, reaching up and cupping his cheek in your hand. You let your thumb drift over the soft skin, wondering how you ever survived without him around.

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. I’m here, and I want to stay.” You closed your eyes, fighting back tears at the sound of his words. He was here, he wanted to stay, and he wanted to love you. You were so lucky to have him, and you were so stupid to think that you could let him go. One of his hands dropped to your hip, his fingers gently grasping at you as he attempted to pull you closer. “I’m going to say it.”

“Say what?” You giggled, peeking at him through tired eyes. You were exhausted, finally comfortable after days of suffering and sleepless nights, but you weren’t willing to end the moment yet. You would never sleep again if it meant you could always be with him, just like you were in that moment.

“I love you, sweetheart.” A wave of emotion washed over you, stopping your heart and filling your lungs. You watched his face, seeing in his eyes that he’d never meant anything more in his life. It was a word you’d banished so long ago, and it was something that you were certain you could live without. Now that he was in front of you, saying it in the same sweet tone he always used, you could not imagine a life without hearing it every day. You had no idea why you were so afraid of it, or why you were so afraid of him. He was the whole world, and you knew that from the very beginning. His devilish charm and intoxicating attitude made it impossible not to love him, and you knew that any woman would jump at the chance to have him. You were the luckiest person to ever live, and you could not picture loving anybody else the way you loved him.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, softly and slowly, making sure he heard every syllable. He had been waiting so long to hear it that you could not deny him of it for one more second.

He barely had time to smile before his lips were back on yours, hungrier than the last. You slipped your hand to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in the locks of his hair. It was different than any other kiss you shared before; it tasted like freedom and it was laced with the notion of letting go. For the first time since you met him, you felt like you could show all of yourself to him. There were no barriers, no doubt nor hesitations. It was just the two of you, enjoying loving each other without fear getting in the way. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever felt, and you never wanted to feel any other way.

Loving Jake was the best thing you had ever experienced, even with the turmoil that you had been through. The pain and the losses were just as important as the good moments and the happiness, because it all led you to where you sat in that moment. The hurt was worth it as long as it meant you could love him, and you would suffer through it all over again just to be able to be loved by him. As his hand slipped under your shirt, settling on the warm skin underneath, you knew that you would never be happier with someone else. He was what you wanted, and any doubt about it was obsolete now.

You could not hold back the moan that slipped into his mouth at the feeling of his hand on you again. The rough, calloused fingertips from his guitar playing felt like heaven against the smooth skin on your body. Now, with the proclamation of love still lingering in the air, every movement and touch was amplified by a million. Your body was on fire, and he barely even touched you. You weren’t sure if it was solely accredited to the vulnerability the two of you shared, or if it was because you’d spent so many days longing to be touched by him. No matter which it was, it did not matter. All that mattered was that he was there, and things were okay.

“Say it again, angel.” He muttered against your lips, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love you,” you breathed, pressing your lips back to his before the words could fully pass through your mouth. His grip on you tightened, ecstatic to hear the sound. “I love you so much.” You said again, unable to hold it back any longer. You wanted to scream your love for him from the highest rooftops, telling the whole world how much he meant to you, but you feared that it still would not be enough. His lips trailed from your lips down to your neck, settling on the sweet spot just below your ear. You let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue on your skin, your hands tightening on him as a silent show of enjoyment.

“We’re gonna have to do this differently now, beautiful.” His voice vibrated against you, making your eyes flutter closed at the light tickle that quickly spread.

“What do you mean?” You asked, still lost in the blissful nature of his touch.

“I can’t fuck you like a whore, anymore.” He said, snaking his hand up your shirt and landing it over your breast clothed only by the thin material of your bra. His thumb found your nipple through the fabric, feeling it harden under his touch. “I have to fuck you like I love you.”

“Can’t you fuck me like a whore anyway?” You challenged, not willing to give up the sex life you had already built with him. He chuckled at the disappointment in your tone, glancing up at you to catch your gaze.

“You like it better that way?” He raised an eyebrow. Your cheeks heated with a blush at the look in his eyes.

“Y-yes, sir.” You nodded.

“I tell you I love you and you behave yourself… maybe I should have said it a long time ago.” He related the two, smiling to himself as he thought about it. “How about I do both? Does that sound good to you, angel?”

“Sure, yeah.” You felt your lips upturn into a smile, happy with anything he was willing to give you.

“Glad we could come to that agreement.” He chuckled, giving your breast a gentle squeeze as he finished speaking. “Now, get in the bedroom and take your fucking clothes off. I’ve got time to make up for, and I don’t feel like waiting any longer.”

“Yes, sir.” You repeated your earlier statement, trying to ignore the ache that began between your legs. He dropped his hand from you, giving you a gentle nudge towards the bedroom. You followed his guidance, letting out a small yelp as his hand collided with your ass as you turned away. You shot him a look over your shoulder as you continued walking away, but he only responded with a wink.

You made quick progress with taking your clothes off, unashamed of your own excitement. You kicked them off to the side, peering out into the kitchen to see if he was following. When you didn’t see him or hear him walking to join you, you stepped towards the door, peeking just your head around it. You gazed out, finding your heart melt at the sight. He was peering through your cupboards, flowers in hand, in search of a vase to put them in. Eventually, he found a suitable holder for them, filling it with water and unwrapping the bouquet. He placed them inside, smiling at his own accomplishment, and turned towards your room.

He caught you staring, finding himself only slightly embarrassed at the thought. He gave you a smile as his cheeks tinged red. “What?” He asked, defending himself when there was no need to.

“Nothing,” you giggled, stepping out from the door frame so he could see you followed his instructions. He took in a sharp breath, surprised that you had been so obedient. Then, his eyes seemed to darken with lust as he got closer to you. “You’re just taking care of things out there like… oh, I don’t know, you love me or something?” He let out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your statement.

“Yeah, as if.” He teased, stepping towards you and scooping you into his arms with one swift motion. You let out a shriek of laughter, slinging your arms around his neck while you wrapped your legs around him. He found himself laughing at you, too. Your joy was infectious, and he wanted to soak up every minute of it. He pressed his lips to yours as he stepped towards the bed, breaking from the kiss for a moment to check over your shoulder and ensure there was nothing on the mattress. When he deduced that the coast was clear, he moved forward so his knees were touching the bed, then he dropped you down on the mattress without warning.

You let out a gasp of surprise as you landed with a thud, bouncing back up slightly from the impact. “What was that for?” Your lip formed into an unintentional pout, displeased with his actions, but he was too busy pulling his shirt over his head to notice.

“This is where the love part comes in.” He explained, chucking as he threw his shirt to the ground. “It’s not just about fucking you until you can’t walk; we get to have fun, too.”

“That wasn’t fun, I could’ve gotten hurt!” You exclaimed, but a smile was tugging at your lips. He unbuttoned his jeans, slipping out of them and kicking them to the side before looking back at you.

“Sweetheart, I would never do anything that would hurt you. You know that.” He scolded, playfulness still dancing in his eyes. He moved closer, climbing onto the bed and hovering atop of you for a moment. “Well, too bad, anyway.” He added, running his fingers over the lingering mark from his belt that was left from the weekend before. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize.” You assured him, the sting of the leather already long forgotten in your mind. “I deserved it.”

“You can be quite a brat,” he agreed, smiling down at you. The chain around his neck dangled in the air and his hair swooped down to frame his face. The sight of him was breathtaking, and you wished you could sear the picture in your mind forever.

“You bring out the worst in me.” You shrugged, distracted by the gleam of emotion in his eye. It was different than before, less animalistic and much more complex. It was love, and even though you did not recognize it yet, you would in the days to come, for it was dancing in your eyes, too.

“I don’t think that’s true, angel.” He argued, leaning down so his lips were hovering over your bare chest. He watched you take in a sharp breath, anticipating his next move with excitement. He placed a soft kiss to the top of your breastbone, slowly making his way downward with the same gentle nature. He brought one hand to your hardened nipple, letting the rough pad of his thumb drift across the sensitive nub. Your back arched upwards in reaction. The feeling was small, and the reaction was not because of the sensation, but rather because he was the one causing it.

He brought his mouth down to your breast, letting his tongue take over for his thumb. Your eyes fluttered closed as the familiar feeling of arousal blossomed in your belly. It was so easy for him to turn you into a mess, and sometimes you wondered if he knew the extent of the power he held over you. He suctioned his lips around the nipple, letting his tongue run over it a few times to let you enjoy the moment. Once you were comfortable and unsuspecting, he let his teeth sink into you ever so slightly. You jumped at the sensation, but he’d already moved on before you could voice a complaint.

He kissed a sloppy trail down to your navel, reveling in the noises that were falling from your lips. Eventually, he paused, looking back up at you through his lashes to soak in your needy expression. His mouth was hovering just over your heat, and the ache between your legs was growing harder to ignore. You needed him, and you did not know if you could wait any longer. “What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asked, the far away look in his eyes telling you how badly he needed to hear you tell him how much you wanted him.

“Need it so bad, Jake.” You squirmed underneath his gaze, finding it almost too powerful to hold. “It’s been so long.”

“You need me?” He purred, the corners of his lips upturned into a smirk. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your cunt, the temptation of seeing all of you too much to resist.

“I do, sir.” You pleaded, feeling the arousal begin to push you towards insanity. You could feel his breath on your skin, teasing you without even trying. His mouth was watering from the sight alone, but he wanted to savor the moment for as long as he could. “Please, baby.” You tried again, reaching down and caressing his cheek with your thumb. You thought that the sweetness might coerce him into giving in. The soft brown of his irises were gone, now, blackened with his lust-blown pupils. He wanted you just as bad, and the soft touch of your fingers was forcing him to remember how badly he missed you.

“Do you know how much I thought about this?” He asked, grabbing your hip with one of his hands. He pulled you down ever so slightly, his mouth practically touching you, now. “How badly I wanted to see you like this?”

“How bad, sir?” You played stupid; you knew how much he thought about you because you had thought about him just as much. You wanted to hear it, to know how desperate he was for you when he couldn’t have you.

“I thought about it every night,” he muttered, his eyes now focused on your cunt, clenching around nothing just from the memory of him being inside of you. “I thought about all of those slutty little noises, how pretty you looked with my cock in your mouth.” He listed, biting back a smirk as he noticed your cheeks redden at his words. “I was worried someone else was taking care of you and that pretty little cunt.” He continued, letting a trail of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. “Did you get someone else to take care of you, sweetheart?”

“No, sir.” You let out a shaky breath, completely enthralled by his devilish charm. The filth he was speaking even seemed to draw you in. At that moment, Jake was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“No?” He asked, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Couldn’t find anyone else who could do it right?” You let your head fall back on the mattress as you felt his fingers run through your folds. “Nobody else could fuck you like I can, right sweetheart?”

“No, Jake.” You agreed. “Nobody else could fuck me like you can.” He let out a hum of satisfaction at your words, letting his middle and index finger slip inside you as his thumb drifted over your aching clit.

“Why is that?” He questioned, beginning to move his fingers at a slow pace. You were too immersed in the feeling of pleasure he was giving you to notice he spoke again. “Why can nobody else make you feel this way, baby?”

“Because I’m yours, Jake.” You let the possessive claim slip without care. You were his, and you only ever wanted to be his. “Because I love you.” You said, adding on to the original comment.

“Cause you’re all mine, angel.” He agreed, smiling at the thought. He curled his fingers upwards ever so slightly, hitting the sensitive spot inside you he’d grown to know so well. You let out a soft moan, moving your hips down on his hand for more. You were so desperate that under any other circumstances, you would be shameful. Now, with Jake on top of you, you couldn't care less. He knew how badly you needed him whether you said it or not; there was no hiding from Jake, and you were okay with that. “And I love you, too.” A whimper fell from your lips at the sound of his voice saying such sweet words.

“Fuck,” you groaned, feeling your abdomen tense with pleasure. You were so close, and he’d barely even started.

“Already?” He asked, amazed at the thought.

“It’s been a while,” you huffed, still too lost in the euphoria to care. “It feels so fucking good, Jake.”

“Tell me how good it feels, baby. Wanna hear all about it.” He encouraged you as he leaned down, moving his thumb from your clit and replacing it with his tongue.

“Oh, god.” You tangled your hand in his hair, needing more than he could possibly give you. Your whole body was ablaze with sin, once again falling victim to his routine. You tried so hard to stay away, but the truth was, you didn’t want to stay away. He was too fantastic at everything he did, and his company was too pleasurable to deny. You were in lust by the first touch and in love by the first conversation. Jake was something otherworldly, and you knew that from the very beginning. His love outweighed every consequence that you could face in hell. The devil was between your legs, and you were too weak to resist him. He had made you a fool for his sin, but just now were you realizing the extent of the damage.

As his fingers curled inside you again, the prescision in which they moved was almost too much too soon. You bucked your hips upwards against him, feeling the pressure rapidly increase in your stomach. You were right on the edge, and he barely had to try. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation of your enjoyment. Your heart was pounding against your chest, trying to break free from your ribs as he continued his torment. He was evil, but you could not seem to care because the evil was within you, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” he said, pulling back for just a moment to catch his breath. His words resembled a growl more than anything, and his grip tightened on your hip as he pulled you down further towards him.

“It’s all for you, baby.” You sighed, still lost in the feeling of his fingers pumping into you. He withdrew a long breath, trying to keep himself calm at the thought. There was no better feeling in the world than having you all to himself, and he never wanted to take it for granted again. Knowing he nearly lost you was painful, and he would not allow himself to be foolish enough to let you slip through his fingers again.

He returned his mouth to you, suctioning his lips sound your clit and throwing you straight back into euphoria. You tensed at the feeling, your fingers tightening in his hair as his name fell from your lips. You were praying to him as if he was the god that would save you, but he was nothing holy nor was he any force that could liberate you. He was the evil coursing through your veins, forcing you into the sin and coercing you into believing that it was right. He was the only man in the world who could drive you to such pleasure, but having such power told you that he was the exact entity you thought he was the entire time. You loved him too much to walk away, but he was too wicked to survive. As he worked you up to an orgasm, he was sucking the life from you at the same time. He was the very thing that kept your heart beating, and the very thing that would eventually take it away.

You were too far gone to realize you were in the grave; the dirt seemed pillowy and soft, warm and inviting despite the frost nipping at your skin, begging to freeze you there for the rest of eternity. Falling in love with Jake was the most painful death sentence you had ever faced, but he had such a way with his heart that he made death itself seem enjoyable. You were slipping away, but dying at his hands was the most pleasurable experience of your entire life, like it had been the exact thing you were born to experience.

The blissful feeling was so intense that you could feel it pulsing under your skin and behind your eyes. Your stomach was in knots, begging you to let go, but you feared that you would not survive the downfall. His fingers and tongue worked in time with each other to keep you on the edge, nearly pushing you over with every move. You couldn’t contain the orgasm, and he knew how close you were. Seven days without him was torture, and you felt like you had been deprived of your life’s greatest joy. He could feel how close you were; he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. The shallow breathing and the constant trail of moans that were falling from your lips told him all he needed to know, and the clench of your cunt around him solidified the idea. He was desperate for it, and you could feel that in the prescision of his movements.

“Jake,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your head dropped to the mattress. “M’gonna cum.” You warned. He gave your hip a gentle squeeze, but did not change up his movements. It was his way of giving you silent permission to do so. With a ragged breath and an insatiable burning in your chest, your legs began to tremble from the intensity of the pleasure. All of your muscles were tense and every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. After seven days of suffering, all of the pain and suffering seemed to be disappearing from your body the longer he carried on.

His name fell from your lips, mixed with a slur of curses and moans. The obscenities painted the walls with your sin, dripping down and ensuring they would remain in the foundation of the home until the end of time. There was not a single thing in the room that was not tainted with the wicked energy the two of you were exuding. He held you to him, ensuring you could soak up every second of pleasure the climax had to offer. You felt like you were going mad; your mind was a mess with thoughts all pertaining to the boy nestled between your legs. You feared that the intensity would never pass, your limbs aching with the rigid nature of your muscles and your lungs desperate for air.

Eventually, when he began to taper off his movements, the sensation began to fade. You relaxed against the mattress, finally able to fill your lungs with oxygen. When he pulled away from you completely, you were too dazed to notice the loss of contact. Your eyes were closed, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch up with the breaths you were deprived of momentarily. Your legs continued to tremble with the ghost of your orgasm and your stomach was still twisted into knots of pleasure. He did not move from his position, but instead got on his knees rather than laying on his stomach. His eyes were heavy with lust, crazed by the state you were in. He thought there was no way he’d be able to forget the way you looked when you were fucked out and drunk off him. It was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

Before you even came back to reality, he was lining himself up with your entrance. He guided your legs around him with little help from you, bracing his arm on the bed just beside your head. “You’re not giving up on me yet, are you angel?” He rasped, even his voice husky with the desire he was feeling for you. You managed to crack your eyes open at the sound of his voice, the sound too beautiful to ignore.

“I’m okay,” you promised, now focused on the feeling of his cock resting against you. The idea of fucking him was enough to give you the energy to continue on. “I promise.” You said, reaching up to touch his face. The feeling caused his eyes to flutter closed and a smile to blossom on his lips.

“That’s my girl.” He crooned, savouring the sensation only for a second before he was pushing himself inside of you. As much as he wished to live in the moment forever, he could not wait any longer. You both let out a hiss of relief, already needing more than you could have. “You always feel so fucking good.” He groaned, beginning at a slow pace. As much as he teased you for being so close so soon, he felt just the same. Seven days for him felt like an eternity without you, and he never wanted to experience it again. His hips moved slowly, but powerfully. The angle he had your hips settled at allowed him to reach a depth that made your head spin.

“J-just want to make you feel good, sir.” You whined, the sensitivity making his movements feel all the more enjoyable. His eyes darkened further at your words, the obedience driving him crazy. He’d never heard you be so submissive, and he wasn’t shy about his new found love for it. Not once had he gotten you into bed and did not hear a single argument or snide comment, but despite his love for the obedience, he couldn’t help but miss the sharp tongue you so often could not keep a hold of. He loved you for all of you, even your naturally argumentative self and your tendency to talk back. He was in love with everything you had to offer, and he knew that he always would be.

To make the devil fall in love is a daunting task, but within a few weeks, you had made yourself an expert in doing so.

“Yeah? You like being a little whore for me?” He asked, adding a little more power behind his thrusts. His cock brushed against your cervix, causing you to wince at the painful type of pleasure that shot through you. “You like it when I use you for whatever I want?”

“God, yes.” You muttered, looking up to meet his eyes. The sexual tension between you was so strong that it was hard to think of anything else, but there was something deeper, now. Connection, understanding, and love. The two of you had overcome the only barrier that had ever held you back. Fear was obsolete, replaced with the desire to know and to care. It was freeing, and the world seemed full of endless possibilities, now. You could not believe you had let the anxieties hold you back from something so wonderful and so fulfilling.

Then again, you knew that beneath the elation of your realizations, Jake was the one behind it all. The fear would never have left had he not been the one who you fell for. The risk would not be worth it if it were someone else between your legs, staring down at you with such admiration. Love was not worth it unless he was the one on the recieving end, nor would it be worth it if someone else were trying to give it to you. You knew that all you feared would be kept safe, locked up in his heart for eternity the same as it was in your own. He would keep every secret, every promise, and every failure safe. He would protect it as if his life depended on it, because he did not want anyone else to know all that he knew about you. He did not want anyone else to have the chance to have you like he did, and he did not want you to think that he was not the person he made you believe he was.

Your trust was the most important to him, and your love came second to that. He wanted you to depend on him, to let him in when the days seemed dark and dreary. He wanted you to share every tear and pain that you felt in your body, and he wanted you to share every failure and mistake. He wanted the goodness, but he wanted all of the bad, too. He loved you not just for your triumphs and successes, but also for your darkest moments. He wanted to be the person you could pour your heart into, no matter if it was happiness or sadness. He wanted you in your entirety, and he would love you through every single moment of your life, and even long beyond that.

The two of you went in search of sex, something to fill the void that was steadily growing in your hearts. You wanted casual without commitment, because neither of you yearned to bear your souls to another. Your sadness, your heartbreaks and your hurt had turned you cold, and made it so you wanted to keep everyone locked out. Intimacy in the emotional aspect scared the both of you beyond comprehension, yet in your search to find something to satiate the isolation, you had found so much more. In each other, you discovered all that you feared yet all that you needed all in the same place. You were terrified of love, yet craved it so badly it made your chest ache and your head spin. You were full of mistrust, yet desperate to find someone you could share your life with without fear.

It was not your job to seek love, but it had always been your duty to break down all of the barriers that prohibited it from entering your lives. In the three months of knowing each other, you did not intend or purposely search for love within each other, but you did break down every wall and defense you had built up prior to meeting each other. Because of that, love flowed in easily and endlessly, and the two of you were able to do the very thing you swore you would never do again.

Within each other, you found home. You found a hiding place, somewhere to rest and put down the burden of life for a while. You found friendship, connection, and purpose. You found a way to conquer your biggest fears and push your own boundaries enough to allow another inside.

In Jake, you had found everything you ever needed.

In you, he found everything he ever dreamed of.

Somewhere in the universe, the divine had found a way to forgive you for the wrongdoing and allow you a moment of peace. But, evil does not rest even when it seems like it has. Beneath the surface, the wicked forces were still working overtime to turn you rotten to the core. You had engaged in so much sin that your entire life was encrypted with it. Satan himself would draw back in fear if he looked into your eyes, yet the two of you were so blissfully ignorant to the fact that you felt as though you had repented enough to free yourself from the darkness.

“Come here, angel.” He said, pulling out of you for a moment. There it was again; the heavenly connotation to a woman so evil her own skin turned red.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, reaching out and pulling you on top of him. You were so distraught with the loss of contact that you let out an audible whine, but you did not have to suffer for too long. He guided your legs on either side of him, helping you position yourself so you could continue fucking. You planted your hand firmly on his chest, holding yourself up as he lined himself up with your entrance. His hands landed on your hips, his warm touch searing your cool skin. Without warning, he pulled you down on him with a strength that made your head spin. You let out a moan, telling him how good it felt when he filled you up in such a way.

“That’s better, sweetheart.” He muttered, helping you move your hips to maintain a steady rhythm. Once you were able to keep up the pace yourself, he removed one hand from you and brought it to your clit. He let his finger begin slow circles, encouraging you silently as you rode both of you into an orgasm. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels so good, sir.” You panted, grinding your hips downwards onto him. His jaw was tense, his teeth clenched tightly as he focused on the way your body was moving on him. First, he admired your face. The twisted expression of pleasure was enough to send him into a climax, but he managed to hold himself back, wanting to enjoy you for just a little while longer. Your lips were parted slightly as obscenities fell from your tongue, dripping down onto him and drowning him in the sinful sounds. His gaze trailed down your neck, taking in every available inch of exposed skin. He studied the way the columns of your neck flowed down into your collarbones, and all the way down to your breasts which were bouncing with every movement of your body. He wanted you to be in the position solely so he could admire you without any obstruction of view.

His eyes trailed down your stomach, watching your muscles tense with the pleasure that you were feeling. He looked down at his hand anchored around your hip, his fingers digging into the skin with a promise to leave finger-shaped bruised by the morning. He could not deny the feeling of euphoria at the thought of your body being marked with memories of him for days to come. Eventually, his gaze landed on your cunt, where his hand was delicately coaxing an orgasm and your hips were jointed with his, the two of you intertwined in the most intimate and intoxicating way.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he could not hold the thought to himself. If he had to hide it, he thought he might die from the pressure of the notion pulsing against his skull.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He said, the words almost caught in his throat as he tried to speak them. The emotion in the room was heavy, weighing both of you down and inevitably pushing you even closer together. “I love you, y/n.” The profound nature of his words made your head spin and your heart skip a beat. You looked down, catching his eyes and seeing the sincerity pooling in his gaze.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, your hips stuttered as you spoke. You felt locked in, like your eyes could not look away from him even if your life depended on it. “I love you so much.” You repeated, the words freeing and lifting tons of weight from your shoulders. You were so happy to finally be able to say it, and now you never wanted to stop. You wanted to tell every person you stumbled across how fantastic he was and how much he meant to you, but a smaller, more selfish part of you wanted to keep him to yourself forever. He was yours and only yours, and you were the only one in the world lucky enough to have him.

“Cum for me, angel.” He said, his voice low and dripping with desire. He gave you the permission not because he was planning on denying you the pleasure, but because he feared he might die if you did not. He needed you like the starving need food, and he could not keep up with the demands of his heart. He needed everything from you all at once, and he needed it so much that he could not even think about anything else.

With his permission, you felt another wave of euphoria wash over you. This time, it was so intense that it felt like your whole body locked in reaction to it. You managed his name through the cries of pleasure, but it was barely noticeable. The only reason he picked up on it was because he spent every waking minute waiting for you to speak his name.

“That’s it, baby.” He said, gently guiding your lower half down towards him, still circling his finger around your clit. “Being such a good girl for me.” He hummed, pulling you into a kiss as soon as you were close enough to do so. You rode out your high with your lips locked with his, letting every moan fall into his mouth. He drank up the sound, each one pushing him closer to his own climax. When you relaxed against him, he slowly removed his hand from your cunt, bringing both hands to your hips to hold you in place. You were exhausted, and he could clearly see that. He decided not to push you, instead keeping you close to him and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth while he allowed you to calm down.

When your chest returned to the steady rise-and-fall rhythm, he started his own pace again. He held your hips in place, continuing the kiss as he fucked into you, working himself back up to his own orgasm. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming as you tried to bargain with your own sensitivity from both orgasms. His pace was bruising, like always, but it was still intoxicating. You felt your stomach burn with pleasure once again, unbelieving of how fast you could feel the pressure of another orgasm begin to build. You had to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, the feeling becoming too much to bear. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of him inside you and the way he filled you up so perfectly.

“Again?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his lips as he tried to play down his own pleasures.

“A-ah, fuck, shut up!” You hissed, stumbling over your own words. He let out a low chuckle at your response, unbothered by your harsh tone.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I know how good I make you feel.” He said, tone dripping with pride. His ego took up space in the room even when you were fucking, and you hated to admit that you loved it. He continued on his pace, now pulling you down on him with every move of his hips. It was painful, but it was addicting. You wanted more, but you feared your body would not be able to handle it. A particularly high-pitched moan let him know that you were already there once again. His head fell back on the mattress, absolutely amazed by how attracted he was to you and how badly he affected you. “That’s it,” he encouraged “look at you.” He whispered to himself, his eyes burning into your face. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

The compliment sent you over the edge for the third time, the sweet words too much for you to handle. You clenched around him, pulling him in even further as you unravelled. Your hand moved upwards grasping at his shoulder, holding yourself upright as he continued fucking into you. The pleasure was so plentiful that it quickly became the only thing you could think of; nothing else mattered other than him and the way he made you feel.

Jake was not far behind you, his movements becoming sloppy and moans falling steadily from his own lips. You thought he was ridiculous for believing you were the best thing the world had to offer, especially considering he got to wake up and look at himself in the mirror every morning. Jake was the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth, and he was the most precious gift you’d ever had the chance to receive. His grip on you tightened as he pulled you down on him, holding you to him as he spilled his release into you. He muttered your name amidst the chaos, almost like it was the only thing he knew how to speak.

Instead of pulling out, he rested inside of you for a moment, pulling your top half down closer so he could wrap his arms around you. You rested your cheek against his chest, closing your eyes in bliss as you soaked up the intimacy you had missed so much. His hand traced shapes into your back, the delicate touch sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin. You ran your fingers through his hair, twisted the ends of the locks between your fingers as you listened to the soft thud of his heartbeat against his chest.

Love was filling the room, and this time, you both allowed yourselves to feel it. You welcomed it with open arms, inviting it in with a smile. It was in every touch and every breath, living in every word and shared glance. In that moment, life could not have been better. He moved his head down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He let his lips linger there for a moment, closing his eyes as he thanked every higher power for allowing you to enter his life.

“I love you.” He muttered, the words coming out muffled due to his mouth still resting on your head. You smiled, the kind that made your cheeks hurt and your mind forget what it felt like to frown.

“I love you.” You said, placing a kiss to his chest.

“You want to get cleaned up?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed, nodding against him. “Then we can go to bed.” His chest burned with excitement at the thought of falling asleep next to you again, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Carefully, he withdrew from you and you both stood. He stayed close to you as you walked to the bathroom, fearful that if you got too far away, he’d lose you forever. You made quick work and cleaning yourselves off, both eager to get into bed and hold each other until you fell asleep. As you walked back to your bedroom, he stopped and grabbed his bag he left in the kitchen, bringing it back with him. You grabbed one of his shirts from your drawer and threw it over your head. He slipped his boxers back on and waited for you to get into bed before joining you.

When you were both under the covers, he wasted little time turning on his side and pulling you closer to him. He settled his arm around your waist as you pressed your back against his chest. “Thank you for coming back, Jake.” You whispered, sleepiness laced in your tone.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed, also speaking quietly. “I want going to let you get away that easily.” You giggled at his words, snuggling in even closer. He tightened his arm around you, pulling you further into him.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” You said, more specific than the last time. He didn’t respond straight away, instead nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“I will fight for you until my very last breath, sweetheart.” He said, simply and seriously. He meant every word, and he did not want you to believe otherwise. “I love you, beautiful.”

“I love you, Jake.” You smiled to yourself as you closed your eyes, sleep calling to you and quickly taking over. In your last conscious moment, you felt the warmth of his love surrounding you, but a familiar dread settled in your stomach. You loved him, and he loved you, but was it really going to be so easy? After struggling to give yourselves to each other, you had a hard time believing that the rest of your life could be so simple. More than that, you still feared the sins the two of you committed just to be together in that moment. Jake was the love of your life, and that was without a doubt. What did worry you was all of the other conclusions you had drawn about him, specifically in regards to his devilish nature.

Was a mortal man laying beside you, or had you invited Satan himself into your home until the end of time?

According to Wikipedia, ‘the seven deadly sins, also known as the capital vices or cardinal sins, is a grouping and classification of vices within Christian, particularly Catholic, teachings. According to the standard list, they are pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth, which are contrary to the seven heavenly virtues.’ The seven deadly sins you had committed with ease and little regret. You fell into the trap without even realizing it, and from there, you could not stop the rapid progression of your godless acts. You had sinned so much that you had forgotten what a virtue was, but more than that, the seven deadliest sins held no weight compared to the sin that only you had been indulging in.

The world did not know about the most sacrilegious of sins because he was in your bed with his arm draped around you, sleeping soundly. You were the only person in the world who knew the extent of his evil. He was more powerful than lust, and more intense than greed. He was greener than envy and he was more vicious than wrath. Jake Kiszka was the eighth, undiscovered, most deadly sin of all. He was all of the vices combined, and more so, the only force in the world that could be strong enough to make you commit all of them in one go. He was the embodiment of evil, thus leaving no other way to describe him; he was the devil, and instead of fearing him, you felt lucky to be in his presence.

You had sinned so much that somewhere along your wicked warpath, you’d sprouted devil horns of your own. His power did not scare you, because you held the same one within your heart. The only match for him was you, and the two of you were tied together with barbed wire and chains, now. When you moved too fast, the ache from the tension spread to your bones, but his kiss satiated the pain. Most of the time, his love was so good that you did not feel the restraints around you at all.

So seven became eight, and the sin had finally come to an end. Yours and Jake’s souls were intertwined infinitely, tainted with the blackness of evil and scorching with the heat of flames. You had reached your deadly end, and you had always feared that once the devil had made home, there was no escaping him. Now, the devil was for certain to stay, and you knew deep in your heart that no amount of repent would rid you from the damage you caused and the guilt that came with it. As you fell asleep wrapped up in him, you thanked god for bringing him back to you whilst knowing he was the very thing god was trying to strike down.

A fear settled deep in the pit of your stomach, wondering if soon, god would realize your mistakes and make his first attempt at striking you down, too.

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby @lallisonl

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.4 (Lewisia) a2d3 Addition Post (+1,308 words)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 2,866

TO THE UNAWARE: THIS IS A PROGRESS UPDATE OF A CHAPTER NOT REMOTELY CLOSE TO DONE! PLEASE DON'T EXPECT A FULL OR POLISHED PRODUCT HERE

Notes: The first addition post in the history of the archive! Huzzah! This chapter just keeps growing, I was expecting this to be shorter than Lino's chapter, but I think it's gonna be quite a bit longer. Some genuine editing notes - I think the transition into the flashback is a bit awkward and I would like to smooth out the whole morning sequence. I'm not even 100% sure what that vibe is and it shows. I also don't like the complete change in Reader's mood while she's talking to Jake, so I either have to make her morning more lighthearted or show her shoving her feelings down somehow. I genuinely operate like this, just code switching between private emotions and public face, so idk. What do y'all think? Is it was weird and jarring as I think it is? I also need to find a place to mention that this Stray Kid (dunno if I've mentioned who it is yet - obscuring just in case some of you haven't gotten it yet) is wearing a mask. I completely forgot to, but it's important for later. At a point in this one where I think I need another pair of eyes. Writing by yourself is hard :c

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, Flashback (yelling), pls lmk if this needs smthn more specific

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Main Part

The next morning marks a return to routine.

You roll out of bed half awake, sleep-mused and ready for murder. Your mood isn’t improved by the way you’d gone to bed - still in your work clothes with day-after mascara gluing your eyelids together.

A quick stop by the restroom to strip and scrub your face is a necessity, otherwise you’re liable to just crawl back into bed and rot there. You brush your teeth while you’re there, doing your best to ignore the remaining traces of grey streaks down your cheeks where your eyeliner hadn’t been as water-proof as advertised.

You don’t even know why you’d cried. After all, it’s not like you were the one rejected by your soulmate for no reason.

You do your best to shake off the maudlin feeling of the morning, ambling your way into the kitchen. As tired as you are, you still spot your twenty on the counter where you’d left it. You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling and open the fridge. There’s a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast inside.

Taylor, freak of nature that he is, has been up for hours already, you know. He’d probably been up and out the door before the sun had even thought about rising. Weirdo.

your roommate is well aware of how non-functional you can be in the morning, so it’s not unusual of him to leave you leftovers when he makes breakfast. The little note on top isn’t new either, usually a reminder, grocery list, or a little encouragement for your day. The whole thing makes you smile, usually.

Today that little note makes your eyes prick with a new wave of tears.

‘Give yourself a chance. Bet’s still on <3’

You very deliberately do NOT cry, though it’s a near thing. You’d done enough crying last night. But if you sniffle a bit into your eggs, well. That’s for you to know, isn’t it?

You leave the money where it is.

It’s a Tuesday, so after breakfast you drag yourself back to your room to throw on your largest, rattiest, t-shirt and a pair of leggings to head to the gym.

You can’t help it when eyes catch on the newly-bloomed marks on your skin as you strip away your sleepwear. You take a moment to wonder why looking at your mark, a daily ritual you’ve kept for years, feels odd to you.

It occurs to you, only after several long seconds of staring blankly at your stomach, that you hadn’t taken the time to look at your mark at all since since you’d met your first soulmate. Things have been... hectic, to say the least.

It’s no wonder looking at it feels weird. It might as well be a whole new mark, for all the changes that have happened since you last saw it.

You decide, in the name of returning to your routine for good, that you can’t skip even this tiny part of your daily rituals.

You shuffle over to your closet, swinging open the door to reveal the full-length mirror hanging on the other side. You don’t bother with your usual rounds of self-depreciation or daily affirmations. Instead, you find your eyes glued to droopy purple petals and blankets of white stars across your abdomen.

The names of the flowers come to mind with ease as you trace gentle fingers over echoes of delicate petals. ‘Bellflowers’ You recite to yourself, drawing your finger up thin stalks and back down dipped heads. ‘Edelweiss’ you muse, lightly tapping each fuzzy white star.

The knowledge comes easily to you, not from any cosmic force, but because of course it does. Your sister hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that asking a person’s favorite flower had been basically an obsession of yours.

The habit had started well before you’d gotten your mark. Before you’d even properly known what soulmates were, really.

Gardening with your mother had started as a way for her to drag you out of the house to get some sun while keeping an easy eye on you. Before your sister was born you’d spent many a joyous afternoon learning to work the soil beside your mother.

After the advent of your favorite gremlin, you’d spent those afternoons tending to the family garden alone.

You remember being grateful to the newborn back then. Those solitary afternoons were some of the most peaceful in your memory.

At some point the ‘family garden’ had become more ‘your garden’. Your mother wouldn’t even bother to plan it out with you by your sister’s toddler years. She’d drive you to the store, hand you a bit of cash, and leave it all in your tiny hands.

You’d spend hours researching the best ways to nurture your plants. What flowers liked being planted together, which ones should be separated. You learned about soil types and the nutrients found in them. You learned about ph. values, how to measure them, and why they mattered. Anything to have your garden thriving more brightly, more beautifully, for longer.

If you weren’t in the garden you were in the library by your house, nose buried in a gardening book.

You vividly remember the day it all went wrong.

It hadn’t even been that dramatic, as you recall. At least, not in terms of your parent’s usual fights. It was heartbreak- despair- that marked the day, instead of fear.

You’d been digging up weeds, clawing up deep roots with your gloved hands and a trowel, when your father had come storming outside. You don’t even remember what he’d said. Something about you always taking your mother’s side because of your shared hobby, you think.

Never mind that the woman hadn’t put so much as a toenail to the dirt since your sister had been born.

He hadn’t let up for quite a while, if memory serves. Stood there yelling at you in your safe space for close to an hour. Maybe two, but your child-brain couldn’t be trusted with the time. It might have just been minutes, now that you think about it.

Nonetheless, he’d yelled and yelled and yelled. He hadn’t trampled on or broken anything, hadn’t even made sense. And yet, when he’d finally left, everything was different.

The blooms you’d worked so hard to nurture were no longer beautiful, and the soil you’d once called home was no longer safe.

You hadn’t tended another garden after that season. You’d seen your plants to winter, and you’d let go. You’d turned away from the sun and soil and leaned into your books and silly questions to fill the hole left behind.

You’re sure you left claw marks in the dirt.

Something like a gentle humming fills your soul, and you notice how tightly you're clutching the garden around your waist. You gingerly pry your hands away and study the crescent moons you’ve left behind, soft skin indented where petals should have ripped.

You wonder if you’ll leave claw-marks in this garden too.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the gentle tingling up your side where your fingers had dug in. You quickly toss on a camisole, forgoing your usual privacy wraps, and your t-shirt over that.

There was nothing for emptying your mind quite like running yourself into the ground at the gym. With full awareness that you’re going to regret your gym session later, you flee your apartment.

Maybe jogging all the way to gym wasn’t such a great idea. It’d sounded fantastic at the time, a head start on your cardio and a way to remove yourself from your negative headspace before you tried to toss around weights you barely knew how to use.

It had sort of worked, but now you hadn’t even entered the building and you were already a sweaty, panting, mess.

After guzzling down half of your water bottle you enter the building, resignation in your heart. Cardio wasn’t even your focus today.

The automatic doors slide open with their usual swish, and you’re greeted by the familiar stale smell all gyms seem to share, no matter how clean. It’s comforting, even if you do wish you could go home already.

There’s someone already at the receptionist’s desk when you approach, talking in slow and measured English. You try not to be annoyed with the tiny delay, but your mood really hadn’t been helped by running from your thoughts, no matter what you’d hoped.

Alas, you’ve ventured into the public and so you’ve encountered a member of the public. Shocker. You cross your arms and bite back irritation that this complete stranger hadn’t done anything to earn.

Luckily enough, the low and measured cadence of the stranger’s voice is soothing enough to zone out to. Unfortunately, your latest obstacle is the only thing around to rest your eyes on, and so you find yourself studying his form.

His back is broad and built, huge biceps on display in a tight fitting black t-shirt. You kinda wanna squish them.

A vivid tattoo sleeve runs all the way down to his wrist, and you find your stare glued to it. Large boldly colored flowers take up the majority of the space, vague outlines of crashing waves and rolling mists fills in the rest in a luxurious combination of oriental art styles.

You can’t help but think it doesn’t look finished.

Dragging your eyes away from such beautiful ink is quite a task, but you don’t want to seem judgmental for your admiration. That arduous labor is made infinitely easier by how fine the man himself is.

You really can’t help the way your eyes trace up and down his form. It should be impossible, you think, to somehow bulk up in only the right places, but by Jove his man has done it. You’re quite jealous, honestly.

Your eyes come to a rest on the stranger’s backside. Quite jealous, indeed.

You try to shake yourself from your admiration, reminding yourself that there were very many well-muscled men in this place and that you’d always endeavored to keep a polite line-of-sight, even when they don’t. It hadn’t even been a hard ask, until now. You drag your gaze back up to the back of his head.

You’d be polite if it killed you. Even if neither the stranger or the scrawny receptionist had noticed your wandering gaze.

Especially then.

While you were.... distracted... the man’s conversation with the receptionist seemed to be going a whole lot of nowhere. From what you can gather, he’s looking for a short-term membership, and the receptionist is trying to tell him they don’t do that.

You know this to be true, even the trial period was an entire month. You’d specifically chosen this gym for that reason. If you hadn’t been able to stick it out for a month, you know you’d have never used the place enough to justify a membership.

Your sympathies to this stranger, it seems he really just needs a little less than a week. You know there are some no-commitment type places not too far though, so you wonder why he’s stuck on this place.

Their back and forth goes a while longer, but it’s evident that the beautifully-built stranger can’t really argue his case properly. Whether because of the obvious language barrier he’s working with, or because he’s run out of arguments, you can’t be sure.

Eventually he steps to the side to make a call, and you’re able to approach the counter.

The receptionist (you think his name is Jake. The owner’s nephew, if you recall correctly) looks relieved to see you after whatver hassling the stranger had given him. He lazily waves the clipboard and it’s sign-in sheet at you in greeting. You take the clipboard, trading him your membership card and driver’s license for it, and turn to prop your knee up on the counter to balance it while you write. Incidentally, your choice of position keeps the stranger in your line of sight.

You magnanimously ignore Jake’s gaze wandering to your chest, if only because you’re still looking not-so-respectfully at the tattooed stranger a few feet away.

“So what was that all about?” You ask him as you hand back the clipboard. He shrugs at you as he types a second longer.

“Some big-shot who needs a security detail,” He answers, unimpressed, “Says this is the only gym in, like, five miles of his hotel that he doesn’t need an entourage to go to.”

You hum your understanding, now trying to place if the handsome stranger was someone you knew of.

Such situations weren’t uncommon for this gym. Celebrities that actually lived in LA weren’t spotted here very often but, since it was settled very close to quite a few high-security luxury hotels, the building saw it’s fair share of famous faces.

Security was kept quite tightly, and a certain code of conduct was expected amongst the gym’s members. It was another justification for the long trial period, wherein one could only access the front room with the basic weights and machines. All the fancy stuff (including a pool, rock wall, dance studio, and all sorts) was in the back.

It was also another reason you yourself were a patron here. The high security and strict standards made for a quiet and comfortable atmosphere.

At least, as long as you ignored the judgmental stares.

“What’s the issue, then?” You question Jake, “Doesn’t the owner make exceptions for high-profile clients?” You phrase it as a question, but you know he does. The unfamiliar faces that pop up for a few days every now and then wouldn’t show up otherwise.

Jake just sighs like he’s had this conversation a thousand times. Considering the celebrity (?) waving his hands around as he spoke rapidly into his phone not far away, maybe he had.

“He does, but he’s out of town and no one else can adjust the contracts.” He eventually explains. He finally hands you your stuff back, and you hum consideringly as you put the cards back in your wallet.

Another glance at the furrowed brows on the stranger’s masked face has pity welling up your throat.

You turn your gaze to focus on Jake.

“Do I still have that visitor pass?” You ask him, knowing that he still has your details up. Jake glances at you with a raised eyebrow, but obligingly checks the computer.

“Yup,” He confirms, “You’ve been paying for it since you dragged your poor roommate in here that one time. Why?”

“Can he use it?” you nod your head to the frustrated stranger. From where you’re sat, still perched on the edge of the desk, it looks oddly like he’s begging whoever’s on the other line.

Jake levels you with his most deadpan stare. It’s quite a good one, completely unimpressed. You think it must be something about customer service that allows him to make that face. Or maybe it’s just you.

“You realize that your visitor pass is you vouching for your visitor’s character, right?” He reminds you, “If he does anything, breaks anything, pisses off the wrong lifeguard it’ll be on your head.”

You just shrug. It’s not like you couldn’t find a new gym if you had to. You’d miss this one, with it’s quiet atmosphere and abundant amenities, but you didn’t require it’s security and discretion like some of the other clients did.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it.” Is all you tell Jake. It’s not even a lie.

The poor boy just rolls his eyes at you. He still turns to rifle through the desk for the right form for you to fill out though, so you’ll take it.

“You a fan of his or something?” Jake asks as he hands you a different clipboard.

“Nope!” You answer cheerfully, starting to fill out the form, “No idea who he is.”

Jakes huffs an incredulous laugh, and turns a considering gaze on your new friend. And the stranger does have to be a friend now, because “some guy” is not an option on your paperwork.

“I bet he’s a wrestler,” he finally says after a long moment, “Or a sportswear model.”

You gently bop him on the head with your clipboard, “I refuse to participate in your speculation.” You admonish, ignoring his whining.

“I’ll show you his picture when you leave,” He smirks back, “and whatever google says about him.” He shrugs when you send him a cutting glare, “It’s not speculation then.”

“Respect your customer’s privacy, you weirdo.” You scold. He just laughs as you hand him the form, all filled out and just waiting for the stranger’s signature. You know full well that Jake will go through with it, regardless of what you say, so you give up easily.

He won’t get fired as long as you don’t blab outside of the gym. Privileges of nepotism. You exchange farewells as you hop off the counter, and he begins to wave over Mr. Celebrity. You meet the eyes of you on-paper friend and offer him a quick nod before you scuttle off deeper into the building.

Hopefully he’d be too grateful of your offer to find you terribly strange.

I could really use some feedback for this one, if y'all have the time. 人´∀｀) Especially regarding my dialogue and transitions. plsplspls I would be so grateful. My comments, dms, and ask box are all open

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 7

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,255

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), wound cleaning, arguments, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare, talk of past trauma (dead brother), Not Edited

A/N: TLDR for the last chapter - Chris notices Y/N drifting slowly, and tries his best to keep her within a safe distance… but one night him and his brothers decide to film a car video. While in the house alone Y/N tries to distract herself from the bad thoughts… it doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to interrupt the triplets, causing her to relapse and try to commit. She calls Chris, and the guys rush home to find her a bloody mess in the bathroom. (Nick didn’t see it because Chris made him leave, but Matt was really effected by what he saw) after cleaning her wounds, Chris leaves her with nick while he cleans up the mess in the bathroom (Matt left, barely even looking at her), while with nick she tells him everything. The chapter ends with Chris saying “who said I was pretending?”. This chapter picks up right where the last one ended.

if I missed something, please let me know

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”

“who said I was pretending?”

I stare into his icy eyes in the dim lighting, trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. “Don’t say things you don’t mean Chris.” It’s lined with a venom developed from years of rejection.

“it’s not a lie.” He looks genuine, I want him to mean it. “I think I’m in love with you… we can talk about it in the morning, you need to sleep”

I try to protest, but he just nuzzles his head into the space between my collar and jaw. The adrenaline rush from the events of the night finally dies down, and I realize just how tired I am. Within minutes my heavy eyes drift shut, all thoughts of an explanation long gone.

“”“”“”“”“”

The sun through the window wakes me up, I reach over for Chris… the bed is cold where he usually lays. I lay in peace for a moment before my brain starts working.

Did I just imagine the conversation with Chris? Was it a lie he told so I didn’t try to kill myself again? Was it just the adrenaline rush that made him say it? What if I dreamt it all? What if-

Before I could keeps coming up with worse case scenarios, the bedroom door opened. Chris walked in carrying two plates of pancakes.

He sits down criss cross in front of me on the bed, handing me a plate and fork. “How are you feeling?” He asks right as I shove a piece of pancake into my mouth.

“much better now… you didn’t need to make me breakfast in bed.” I pause for a second, staring at my food while trying not to cry. “You also didn’t need to say that you love me…”

I hear him set his plate and fork down. “Yes I did… not for you, but for me.” With that I looked up at him. “I have been so scared to tell you how I felt, out of the possibility that it scares you away… but I can’t lose you Y/N, I can’t not tell you how I feel.”

He meant it.

I just stare at him, dumbfounded at how he could really mean it. I’ve never been the kind of girl that all the guys chase, especially guys that look like Chris. I’ve always struggled with how I see myself, and I never thought that I’d believe a man who says he loves me…

But here we are.

“When we’re done eating I need to change your bandages, and then we can watch a movie or something… if you want to, if you want to do something else that’s totally fine…”

He’s rambling, I love it.

I love him.

“”“”“”“”“”

it’s been a month since the incident, and I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never felt worse.

It's a normal Tuesday night this time… I can feel Chris tossing and turning. I open my eyes to see his face scrunched up in anguish, and I know that it’s my fault. This happens at least once a week.

It’s always the same:

-It starts with tossing and turning

-then he starts pleading (“no, no, please, it’s okay… baby… please, you have to be okay… please don’t leave me…”)

-I usually end up straddling him before gently shaking him awake

-he wakes up and hold me like he never thought he’d see me again, and he never tells me what his nightmares are about.

He doesn’t have to.

I remember the look in his eyes when he opened the door. The way he tried to keep it together, never letting his tears fall. I could hear him breaking down while he cleaned the bathroom floor.

I see that look in his eyes again when he opens them. “It’s okay baby… it’s just a nightmare… everything is okay now.” He burst into tears, pulling me into him. We stay like this until we end up falling back asleep. I wait until I had his breathing even out, and he starts snoring softly before letting myself fall back asleep.

I know he won’t talk about it in the morning, but I’ll still ask him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The vibe in the house has been tense since that night. I walk into the kitchen, and notice Matt staring at something on his phone.

“good morning.” I say, smiling in his direction.

he looks at me with a look of disgust, before leaving the room.

I’m tired of this… I’m going to follow him to his room to make him talk to me. He hasn’t said a word to me since he found out I was alive.

“Get out of my room.” He snaps in my direction. “I don’t want you here”

“Do you wish I died?” I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but it’s been the only thought in my head for the last month.

“Excuse me?” I can tell it offended him. That wasn’t my intention.

“I said ‘do you’… ‘wish that I had died’, it’s a yes or no question.” I didn’t mean to starts out this hostile, but it’s been building for longer than I wanted it to.

“how could you say something like that Y/N?” He has tears in his eyes now. Shit. “I can’t stand to look at you, but it’s not because I wish that you had died!” I clearly misread the situation before me. “I can’t look at you because every time I do, all I see is you on the floor, covered in your own blood. I can’t look at you because I see you, half dead, every time I close my eyes! I don’t sleep anymore Y/N!”

“Im so sorry…” I don’t know what else I can say. It’s true. I hate the way that my mistake has affected the people around me.

“No Y/N, it’s too late to apologize… did you even think about how traumatic finding you like that would be for us?”

“I know how you feel, I can help you with-” I’m cut off before I can finish my sentence.

“You don’t know shit about what this is like! I had to watch my brother patch up the slit wrists of my best friend… the love of his life, and all I could do was stand there!” His voice is shaking, but I can’t stop now.

“Don’t talk about me like you know anything about my life before I moved to Boston! I survived… I understand that you are struggling, but you don’t get to act like I died. I know exactly what you feel like, because I’ve been right where you are… the only difference is that my brother didn’t survive.”

I never told him about my brother, Chris and Nick are the only people in my life who know.

“You can’t possibly imagine the pain of finding your twin brother lying dead on the floor of his bedroom!” The words are coming quicker than I can process. “You never had parents that told you that they wish it had been you, you always got a birthday, and you never had to move to a different state because everyone knew that you tried to kill yourself… so don’t tell me that I don’t know what you’re going through!” I’m practically screaming by the end.

Then I’m crying.

And Matt is holding me while we both cry.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - Pt. 4 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ (mentions of sexual acts), alcohol, angst, regret, slightly derogatory/degrading speech, not edited

Word Count: 3.5k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: Slightly different format for this chapter but it felt the best way to get a glimpse at Lewis. This part is a bit shorter than the others but I wanted to break it up into two parts for the sake of flow, next part is a very important moment...

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Lewis

The house is still quiet as he makes his way through the front door, it's still early, the birds just starting to wake themselves. He pushes the door shut behind him quietly, doing his best not to attract any attention. Slipping his shoes off, he softly makes his way deeper into the house, hoping no one is awake yet.

“Really? Again?” He hears Charlotte's voice as he steps into the kitchen.

He lets out a sigh, knowing he’s trapped, he makes his way over to where she sits at the kitchen island. He should have known she would be up, she’s always been an early riser, usually giving him a run for his money. 

“You at least knew where I was this time.” He says, sitting down next to her.

He can feel tension flowing off of her in waves, unsure where it’s coming from. Last time she had been mad because she didn’t know where he had gone, this time she knew exactly where he was. He almost expected she would know he probably wouldn't be home until the morning.

“Whatever.” She grumbles, getting up to refill her coffee cup.

“Why do you seem so mad at me?” He asks, confusion evident in his voice.

“Why don’t you tell me?” She turns around to look at him, leaning against the counter with an almost disgusted look on her face.

“What? Marina and I had a few drinks while I was playing with Leon. I ended up sleeping on the couch after we put him to bed. What’s the big deal?” He truly couldn’t decipher where her animosity was stemming from.

“It’s not about Marina and you know it.” Her voice was stern, making him wrack his head for what he could have possibly done.

He shakes his head slightly, still unclear on the anger being directed at him. At this point he had been in more arguments over the course of this supposed vacation than he had in months, maybe years. He was getting rather drained.

“Are you that fucking dumb?” Charlotte's voice is almost bewildered, shocked that he could be so naive, “You fucked up, big time, and now you don’t even remember? God that's even worse.”

Then it hits him, Y/N has talked to her. He’s not necessarily shocked, they tend to tell eachother everything, but he was hoping he could work it out with her before it became front page news around the house. He opens his mouth to speak but Charlotte doesn’t let him.

“You can do whatever you want with whomever you want, I won’t ask questions, but how dare you do that to Y/N. You absolute fucking asshole.” She scoffs as she shakes her head.

“Everything seemed fine, she seemed okay and then all the sudden it wasn’t. I didn’t realize how bad it was going to be.” He tries to explain.

“Seriously? That’s not the point, you shouldn't have done anything in the first place. Not only is she one of your best friends, your fucktoy was still in the goddamn house!” Charlotte exclaims, still keeping her voice down to not attract attention.

“Fuck, I know, my timing was horrible but she just always looks so goddamn perfect. Everytime I see her I can’t keep my eyes off of her, I want her all the time and I don’t know I took a chance and she didn’t seem to particularly reject it.” His voice is almost sarcastic as he finishes his sentence.

“Her pushing you away and not speaking to you was a green light to you?” Charlotte scoffs with disgust.

“I mean up until then, everything seemed fine, she seemed into it, then everything just flipped.” He tries to reason.

“Have you ever considered that she wasn’t thinking straight? That you, being you, may have clouded her judgment? The second her brain caught up she pushed you away Lewis.” Charlotte argues, disgusted that he’s trying to share the blame with Y/N.

“How the hell is that my fault?” He asks, baffled. 

“How is it not your fault?” Charlotte throws back at him.

“Okay, so you’re saying that because I’m Lewis Hamilton she let me just about fuck her but then she realized she didn’t want to? I think we’re pretty far past Y/N being amazed by the fact that I can race a fucking car.” His voice is sarcastic, he’s becoming more defensive, clearly done with his friend meddling in the situation.

“No Lewis, it’s not the fucking fame or the racing. It’s the goddamn charm that you turn on every single second you’re around her. You flirt with her like it’s your job, you’re constantly finding ways to be close to her or touch her in some way. You act like a boyfriend half the time and then turn around and go fuck some random model for a week. You can’t have both and you need to realize that before you hurt her even more. You’re confusing her and she doesn’t fucking deserve it.” Charlotte lets out a deep breath at the end of her rant, staring directly into his eyes to make her point.

He takes a moment, taking in what Charlotte just said before speaking, “I don’t know how to not be like that with her. It’s just natural, I don’t know why but anything else would feel so… foreign I guess.”

“Ah so trying to fuck her was just what? Natural? You just couldn’t help yourself?” Charlotte rolls her eyes, disgusted by her friend.

“No, I mean, I don’t know. Fuck. It just felt like the moment, I realized a while ago that I kind of wanted more and it just felt like the time to finally act on it.” He tries and fails to defend himself.

“Lewis, if you want more, try, I don’t know, asking her out? Telling her how you feel? The way to fucking act on it is not fingering her out of the blue just because she’s infront of you in a fucking swimsuit.” Charlotte hisses at him.

“What you wanted me to go up to her and say ‘hey I really want to fuck you’. Charlotte, be real, we would be in the exact same situation.” Lewis laughs cynically.

“You don’t just want to fuck her and we both know that Lewis. You’re allowed to have goddamn feelings once in a while.” Charlotte says, sounding almost defeated.

He pauses, swallowing heavily. He knows she's right, he cares about Y/N much more than he would care to admit. It’s not that he doesn’t want her to know, it’s that he doesn’t know how the hell he would tell her, and now it feels like that ship has sailed. He fucked everything up and he’s well aware.

“First of all, let it be known that if she wants to toss you to the fucking curb and never speak to you again, I will fully support her on that, I’m not groveling on your behalf. Second of all, you hurt her more than I think you realize and you need to put in some goddamn work if you think you’re coming back from it. She told me last night that she wanted to go home, she doesn’t even want to be around you Lewis.” Charlotte tells him sternly.

“She wants to go home?” He asks quietly, his voice cracking, the reality of the situation truly setting in.

“Yes Lewis, she does. She’s questioning every single second she’s been around you, she barely believes you ever even wanted to be her friend, that this was all some fucking long game to you, and I don’t blame her.” 

That hits him like a ton of bricks. He would never want Y/N to second guess anything about his friendship, all of it has been genuine. He truly cares about her, loves her so deeply in ways he can’t even process. Never throughout the friendship has it ever been a game, he needs her in his life, however he can have her.

As if Charlotte can read his mind, she speaks up one last time, “If you want to keep her around in anyway shape or form, you have a lot of fucking work to do. Talk to her because she doesn’t deserve to feel used. Fix it or you’re going to lose her and I’m not going to stop her.”

With that Charlotte leaves the room, leaving Lewis to sit at the counter in silence. He feels ashamed and broken, so scared that he may have permanently lost one of the most amazing people he has ever met, all because he let a cloud of lust overshadow his emotions. He can’t lose Y/N, but he knows in order to keep her, he has to come clean, and that terrifies him. For a man scared of so few things in life, the one thing that paralyzes him, is realizing he just might be in love with his best friend.

Y/N

“Good morning sleepy head.” Charlotte's light voice sings through the room when she notices you’re finally awake.

“Hi.” You groan into the pillow, making her laugh.

“C’mon, get up, we’re going on a hike.” She says, swatting at your leg in attempts to get you out of bed.

“You really don’t know how to get me out of bed.” You laugh, rolling over to finally look at her.

She’s showered and dressed, clearly having woken up much earlier than you.

“Oh stop, it’ll be fun, it’s beautiful out.” She continues to convince you.

You don’t respond, just roll over once again and burrow further into the pillows.

“You have five seconds to get your ass out of bed before I call in reinforcements.” Her voice is playfully stern.

You let the five seconds pass, hoping to have called her bluff. Much to your dismay, she was dead serious.

“Miles! Come get Y/N’s butt outta bed.” She yells out the door, much louder than you were ready for first thing in the morning.

“Coming dear.” You hear him yell down the hall before his loud footsteps quickly approach.

“Come on, up ya get.” He says, pulling your blankets back, making you curl into a ball to try to preserve your warmth in the air conditioned room.

He just laughs, attempting to grab your ankle and pull you out of the bed, making you kick him right above his groin, a narrow miss.

“Close call,” He chuckles, “okay, you leave me no choice.”

You're confused for only a moment before you feel his arms wrapping around you, quite literally removing you from your bed and throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a shriek, hitting his back as he walks you down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Well that’s quite the wake up call.” You hear Lewis laugh from somewhere in the room.

“Put me down.” You whine, not entirely amused at your abrupt removal.

“Fine, fine.” He huffs out behind a laugh, finally placing you on one of the bar stools, “Coffee?”

“Cocaine.” You joke through a groan as you burrow your head into your arms against the counter top in front of you.

“I mean that could be arranged but I think coffee may be a better option for eight o'clock in the morning.” Lewis laughs.

You peek your head up just enough to see him placing a mug in front of you, giving him a small smile of appreciation before properly sitting up. You’re slightly confused at how normal he’s being, almost as if nothing ever happened. Part of you enjoys it but the other part of you is still beyond angry at him, you can’t decide which one you want to win. When you finally take a sip of your coffee you almost want to roll your eyes, it’s exactly how you like and you immediately know he made it.

“I would like to make it known that hikes are not something I consider a vacation activity.” You say, hoping maybe you can dissuade them.

“You and I both, it’s only Lewis and Char that want to go.” Steph says, giving them a look. You can tell she has also only just gotten out of bed.

“Well I hope you two have a lovely time.” You say with an exaggerated smile, looking at the both of them.

“Oh come on, you guys will love it once we’re there.” Lewis argues with a smile.

“Maybe, but I also love the pool that's outback and that doesn’t require climbing a mountain.” You fire back at him.

“It’s not even a mountain, more like a big hill.” He tries to reason, not quite convincing you.

“A big hill with bugs and snakes.” You continue to argue.

“There’s bugs and snakes outback too,” He points out, making you groan, “and there’s a gorgeous waterfall and a big swimming hole at the top of this big hill.”

That finally piques your interest, growing slightly warmer to the idea.

“Eat something and go get ready, I want to head out soon.” Charlotte says, knowing they’ve won the argument without her even needing to join.

You do as she says, quickly eating a bowl of fruit and finishing your coffee. You don’t speak to Lewis anymore but you're still slightly confused by the interaction, unsure why you let it be so normal. You decide it must be that subconsciously you didn’t want to make a scene in front of your other friends, you just hope he knows that all is not forgiven, not even close. As you get ready, you go to put on a swimsuit under your clothes. You grab the first one you see in your bag before freezing, looking at the swimsuit in your hand makes your stomach churn, it’s the one you had worn the other day, the one Lewis had apparently liked so much he decided to make a move on you. You quickly grabbed a different one, something much more modest, not wanting to show more skin around him than necessary. You hated that you felt that way around him all of the sudden, usually you wouldn’t care, he and Miles were always your hype men making you feel even more confident about whatever you chose to wear. Never had you felt the need to cover up around him but you couldn't help it. You hated that he now had the power to picture exactly what was under your suits bottom, that’s not something your best friend should know, if that's actually what he is.

When you finally arrived at the trail you couldn’t help but be annoyed that Lewis had been right, it was absolutely gorgeous and you hadn’t even started the hike. He had also been right that it was more like a big hill than a mountain and for that you were grateful, you were still drained from everything that had occurred over the last few days and a proper hike wasn’t something you had in you. As you started the trek you found yourself walking slower than the rest of the group as you admired the surroundings, taking everything in. The tree's canopy was letting through only dappled sunlight and you could hear frogs and birds all around you.

“Hey, slow poke, you comin?” Miles’ voice snapped you out of your trance, looking up to where he stood with his hands on his hips and a teasing smirk on his face.

“Yup, sorry.” You said as you jogged up the hill toward him, winding you slightly.

He took note of your struggle, laughing at you, “You gotta start training with Lewis and I, we’ll whip your ass into shape.”

“Oh fuck off, I’m perfectly fine.” You said as you caught your breath. You were in pretty decent shape but being friends with professional athletes, that didn’t cut it at times like this. 

He just laughed at you as you made your way up to the group that had slowed down to wait for you. 

The hike itself was uneventful and rather short. You were still amazed by the beauty around you as you kept to yourself, your friends joking and laughing ahead of you. Miles stayed with you for the most part, he kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye as if he was checking on you. It seemed like he could tell something was up with you. When you finally made it to the waterfall you were at a loss for words. It was stunning, almost majestic, so powerful it drowned out all the sound around you. As you looked around, you saw Lewis drop his stuff, already taking his shirt off. He noticed you looking at him, offering you a tight lipped smile. You didn’t return it, looking away from him quickly as you found a place to put your own things. It took only a few moments before you heard a large splash from behind you, followed by another shortly after. When you turned you saw that Lewis and Miles had both promptly jumped directly into the water, completely drenching themselves and Steph who was standing at the edge. She did not look amused as Lewis attempted to apologize through a fit of giggles. Her response was to jump into the water after him, landing almost on top of him and taking him underwater with her. He came up from the water, sputtering slightly with a shocked look on his face before bursting into another fit of laughter. You silently thanked her for the accidental payback for the day at the beach when he threw you into the wave. You watched for a moment as he played around with your friends in the water, he looked like a kid without a care in the world and for a moment you wondered if the situation between the two of you bothered him at all. How was it so easy for him to act like everything was perfectly fine? Miles called out to you, telling you to join them. 

When you jumped in the water it was much deeper than you had expected, going much further down than anticipated. You came back up, sputtering much the way Lewis just had. You shook your head while you treaded water, enjoying the coolness of the fresh water.

“Good?” You heard Lewis ask, much closer to you than you had expected, you hadn’t seen where he was when you first jumped in.

You nodded before he swam away from you, when he stopped you could tell he was standing even with his chest still submerged in the water.

“It’s shallower over here.” He called out to you, beckoning you over.

Against your better judgment you paddled over to him, wanting to be able to relax instead of treading water the entire time. When you made it over to him you noticed that he was right, the water was still deep but you were able to stand flat footed, the water coming up just above your shoulders.

“Having fun?” He asked softly, his voice slightly unsure.

Once again you nodded, still not entirely sure how to navigate a casual conversation with him.

“Good, I’m glad.” He said with a soft smile.

He stood there with you for another moment, staying silent as he looked up at the canopy of trees above your heads. You admired him as he admired the view. His braids were loose, pushed back from his face with the water they had been soaked in, there were a few droplets of water just barely dripping from his beard, his necklaces danced in the sunlight from where they hung around his strong neck. You watched as his prominent Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He brought his head back down, looking over at you, catching your stare but not acknowledging it as he usually would.

“Beautiful.” He said quietly. The way he said it made you feel like he was talking about more than just the view but all you did was agree, also talking about a little more than the view.

“It is.” You nodded.

You didn’t stay with him much longer as Charlotte called over to you to make you come explore the waterfall with her. She gave you a look, checking that you were alright as you approached. You just nodded, telling her not to worry about it as you joined her in making your way around the back of the waterfall to find Miles. You all enjoyed the water for more than an hour before deciding it would be best to head back to the house. You felt more content than you had in the last twenty four hours but still unsure of how to navigate your relationship with Lewis. You knew you needed to talk to him but that was one of the last things you wanted to do at the moment. However soon enough, you would have to pick yourself up and confront him, you owed it to yourself at the very least.