#The second act's a bit rocky

[starlene]

Losing my mind about the second Finnish production of Så som i himmelen cutting the whole prologue again.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)

...

You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.

You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.

Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.

Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."

This is a nightmare. A hallucination.

"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."

"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"

"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.

"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."

"You bit me!"

"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."

"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."

⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇

You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.

There’s nowhere to go.

Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"

"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.

Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.

Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.

The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.

He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.

"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.

You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.

Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”

Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."

You make it up another two footholds before you slip.

Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.

You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.

Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."

You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?

"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"

"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."

"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"

You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"

"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”

Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"

Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.

He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.

"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."

You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...

Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"

You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."

You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.

Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"

Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."

You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.

You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.

He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.

Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?

Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.

You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.

"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.

"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."

You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"

Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.

At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."

“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.

At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.

Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"

You huff. "When I can, clearly."

He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."

"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.

"Then how d'you catch food?"

"I don't have to catch my food."

"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."

"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.

"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."

"If that's even possible," Gaz says.

You scowl. Rude.

Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."

"Watch it."

A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"

"Maybe."

"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."

You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.

Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.

"We both have bones.”

"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.

He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.

Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.

"My thigh is like a seal?"

"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.

You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.

Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.

You grab his hands. "Hey!"

He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”

"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.

"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"

You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."

A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."

"Absolutely not."

"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."

“Let us in,” Gaz says.

“No.”

"Not even me?" he asks.

"No."

They both frown.

"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"

You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"

"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"

Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."

"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."

He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.

Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"

You cross your arms. "None of your business."

"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.

“I didn't say that.”

"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.

All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"

Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”

"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"

Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.

Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."

"But it's morning!"

"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."

"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.

"It will,” Gaz agrees.

You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.

A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”

You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.

Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"

"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag

[microsofttothemax]

the resentment leo would have with splinter post-krang. i genuinely think they would take a bit for them to recover and be comfortable around each other

why do i think that? here’s some reasons. this is gonna be a HELLA long analysis so be prepared. sit down, grab some popcorn, and let’s dive in

in the movie, after raph was taken, leo goes on a whole rant about how he got the key, he gets the answers, and he will get raph back. yes this is irrational and brash, but not in leo’s eyes. in his eyes, this is a foolproof plan that will work

splinter attempts to intervene, and tell him like it is. “it’s not your plan, you need to work with your team.” however, it comes out as a sharp sting to leo’s previous attitude

“My son, listen to your team. This is not about you.”

it’s meant to be sensible and wise, but to leo, it’s a jab at him. it’s a stab at his cockiness and self-centered attitude, and it reminds leo of why they’re even in this position in the first place. which he hates

most of all, it’s splinter saying it. it’s his father telling him that it’s not about him. because to leo, he’s always been last place to splinter’s affection, and it’s like splinter’s confirming it here

don’t believe me? here:

splinter talks to leo, and it seems that for a minute, he listens to his father’s words. that maybe he should really stop and listen. maybe he should stop and think of a plan, listen to his brothers’ input.

but the second splinter says it’s not about him? leo shuts down. he pulls away from splinter, and refuses to listen to him. and while splinter may be right, it was something leo never wanted to hear

it’s obvious that he has a somewhat testy relationship with his father, and splinter is trying to make up for it by giving leadership advice. but to leo? this is the guy who made him leader to seemingly mess with him, never bothered to give him attention or praise on his accomplishments, and never truly knew leo beyond his “acting as the best to save face” charade

which brings me to another reason. no, i do not think splinter was ever abusive or purposely neglectful to leo, or any of the boys for that matter. but its clear theres a bit of a rift between him and leo. i think that he kind of resents leo a bit (without meaning to) because he sees himself in him. he sees the irrational movie star who never thought ahead, and made too many mistakes to count

an example would be when leo got punched by lou jitsu two times. none of his brothers got punched, why just him? and sure it could be a running gag, but i find it also to be intentional

maybe deep down, splinter still resents leo for being so much like his irrational, unreasonable younger self. that every time he sees leo, he sees his stupid past self, and without meaning to, he at times hates leo because of it. and if he doesn’t hate him, he seems to resent him to some extent

splinter also has plainly stated that donnie was the funniest one to him, (s1ep 1, mystic mayhem) and outright laughed when leo asked if he was the favorite son (rottmnt wake-up alarms on youtube, timestamp 1:59) leo also staight-up said that he was splinter’s least favorite (s1ep 4b, down with the sickness)

so yeah, i can see the resentment leo may have for his father deep down. it could be pretty apparent post-krang, hidden behind his jokes and teases

now don’t get me wrong, they have their moments of bonding, and i do love to read little drabbles and fics where they hug and heal. however… realistically speaking, it would take a while for them to get to that stage of father-son bonding post-krang. with splinter naming him leader out of the blue, to the missing lou jitsu posters on the walls of leo’s room in the movie — and we’re definitely talking about that in a later post, trust — i would bet their relationship as father-son pre and post-movie would be extremely rocky.

another reasoning for this could be that splinter often underestimates and undermines leo’s abilities and accomplishments. far as i’ve seen, the most reaction splinter’s given to leo’s accomplishments is an eyebrow raise

for example, when outsmarting big mama, leo was genuinely proud of spending time w his dad and showing him his abilities. he genuinely thought they were working together. however, splinter didn’t say he was proud or anything, just complained he wished he’d brought donnie (s2ep 2, many unhappy returns)

“I knew I should have brought Purple.”

ouch. that mustve hurt a bit

and yes, i will admit, leo was being a bit of a little shit in this scene, and yes, he could’ve told splinter of the plan before starting to yap and blab to big mama about the plan he cooked up. however, the response splinter gives is not much better. essentially, he’s saying, “i don’t like this kid or his plan, so therefore i think i should’ve brought one of my favored children to solve the problem better.”

and before you go and tell me donnie could’ve outsmarted big mama the way leo did, think for a moment. leo fully admitted to manipulating and lying in an episode before

“I don’t lie, I just… change the truth.”

whereas donnie cannot tell a lie to save his life. i love him, but the guy is a shit liar. he has failed multiple times at it

“We are just typical normal humans.. who got lost in the middle of our normal… everyday human lives— nailed it.”

“Uh… nothing. Just having a typical, normal, mystic-free day.” “What? I said mystic-free.”

“Why aren’t you guys more upset?”

“Oh. This… hurts me. Uh… I’m very sad…?”

raph & mikey aren’t much better. mikey straight-up started sweating when he had to lie to splinter about piebald, and raph has so many different stinks/scents to him that it’d be easy for others to tell he was lying

also, mikey has doctor delicate touch. who does not know what lying or “don’t be blunt” means

and donnie’s really only being extremely straightforward with what he thinks or about what’s going on around him. so it makes no sense as to why splinter would want to bring donnie along to outsmart big mama, unless he genuinely doesn’t enjoy leo’s presence, which seems to be the case

now all of this is evidence to point towards a very unsteady father-son relationship with these two. yes, splinter seems to be a very lenient father, and i genuinely think he wants to be a good dad. however, oftentimes that leads to miscommunication and misread moments, empty promises, and overall neglecting behavior on his part, all without meaning to

so while he does try harder to be there for his sons later in the show, it’s pretty obvious that one brother — who thrived off any attention possible — probably stopped caring about that validation after all that he went through. splinter gives, but leo doesn’t take. he doesn’t bother to, because he thinks it’s either a prank of some kind, or because he just genuinely doesn’t care for his father’s input anymore.

(this was based on that one post about splinter & leo by @midwesternvibes, i just figure i revisit that bc i’m thinkin about it again)

[uluvjay]

So long, London- L. Norris

Lando Norris x fem! Reader

In which you have to say goodbye

Warnings?; angst, toxic relationship, lying, cursing, lando being a bit of an asshole, crying, one sided love, feeling unwanted and lonely, this is kinda old and hardly proof read so i apologize for any errors!

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

You could tell when things when first got rocky, the way he went from being connected to your hip at all times to being as far away from you as possible.

The way his once lingering touch would now drop the second there were no longer cameras or people to keep an act up for.

How he couldn’t be bothered to give you more then a pathetic forehead kiss and small side hug when he would once kiss you breathless and hold you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe.

But you always did your best to pull him back in, sitting down and having talk after talk about how you were feeling and telling him that if he wanted to leave then he needed to instead of stringing you along.

The conversations always ended the same, him with soft tears in his eyes while you were sobbing, him telling you he’d change and do better and that you were were all he wanted.

And he’d make the changes he promised to, dates as often as possible, nights once against spent together, his eyes never straying from you.

But that only lasted so long before he was back to his old ways.

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Eventually overtime the constant chasing and fighting had began to take its toll on you, and everyone had began to notice.

“Y/n Darling are you doing okay? You look exhausted.” Adam spoke from his spot next to you.

You smiled politely at your boyfriend’s dad, “yeah just haven’t been sleeping the best.” You shrugged the lie spilling effortlessly from your mouth.

You could tell that the older man didn’t believe you but instead of prying he just nodded and pulled you into a tight hug.

You hadn’t realized just how bad you needed that hug until you were silently crying in the man’s arms, body shaking as all of your built up emotions came spilling out.

Adam turned you two, his back facing the entrance of the garage incase any cameras decided to pan inside, not wanting them to catch you in this state.

“You know you can speak to me about anything right? Even if it’s my son, you’re apart of this family too.”

You wanted to laugh at the man’s words, in what world would you be able to open up to the man about the fact that you were almost certain his son didn’t love you anymore but both of you were refusing to let go.

“I know, thank you.” You spoke softly.

I didn’t opt in to be your odd man out

You only realized how bad things had gotten when you got a text from Max asking why you weren’t at dinner.

What dinner? I didn’t even know you were in town

When the Brit left you on read you understood that even he had began to connect the dots and that his best friend had been lying to the both of you.

He had told you he was going to a business dinner while he sat across from his best friend and told him that you couldn’t make it to dinner because you already had plans made prior.

Max was pissed to say the least but he wasn’t one to cause a scene and decided it would be best to bring it up with lando tomorrow when they went to play paddle.

“How was dinner with Max and P?” You questioned as he stepped in the living room.

“What’re you talking about? It was a bus-“

“Don’t even try it Lando, max texted asking where I was.” You scoffed before standing on your feet and heading down the hall towards your room.

“Fuck.” He groaned quickly following after you.

“Baby please, I’m sorry I lied-��� he tried but was quickly shut up by the bedroom door slamming in his face and the lock clicking.

“Sleep in the guest room, we’ll talk tomorrow.” You spoke and he could hear the sadness in your tone.

My friends said it isn’t right to be scared

“I just don’t know what more I can do, I try so hard and things just aren’t changing. I feel unwanted and uncomfortable in my own house, I’m anxious to even go home sometimes because I don’t know what the night will hold.” You ranted to Kika and Pierre as you laid on the lush carpet of their living room floor.

“Darling it isn’t right to be scared, you shouldn’t have to have these worries, this isn’t love.” The model cooed as she took a seat next to you and held your hand tightly.

“I know, but I look at him and for some reason I still picture a future and see the man I want to start a family with..I just don’t think he sees that with me anymore.” You shrugged sadly.

“Oh honey.” Kika whispered before laying beside you and throwing and arm over you, holding you tightly.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whispered to no one in particular but Pierre caught it.

“It’s not what you want to hear but as one of your closest friends I’m going to tell you the truth, it’s time to leave Y/n.” The boy began, also moving to sit on the carpet on your other side.

“You’re doing nothing but hurting yourself and we can all see how hard this has been on you, you’re not yourself.” He continued.

“Where am i supposed to go? I gave up everything back home to move with him, he’s been in my life since we were little kids, he’s all I’ve ever known.” You croaked, a small tearing escaping.

The couple shared a look, hating how their once bubbly and out going friend had became someone they didn’t recognize, a girl so broken and hurt.

“You can stay here until you figure something out, we have the room and with Pierre being gone for races and me working there’s hardly anyone ever here.” Kika spoke up.

“No-I couldn’t do that, I don’t want to intrude.” You shook your head.

“You’re not intruding, we’re asking you to stay, we don’t want you living like this anymore.” Pierre spoke up.

You took a moment to think about it, were you really going to pull the plug and leave? After spending all of your youth with Lando and giving him all you ever had?

“Okay.” You nodded.

Just how low did you think I’d go ‘fore I self-implode? ‘Fore I’d have to go be free?

A few weeks later while the boys were gone for a double header you and Kika packed everything you owned, boxes and boxes stacked into the back of the large car you’d rented.

You cried in the girls arms as you looked around the place you had called home for the past few years, hearing aching in your chest as it processed that this was it, it was over now.

You’d written a note, placed it on the kitchen counter next to the necklace you wore with his name on it and your key to the apartment along with the keys to the car he’d gotten you for your birthday.

You two hadn’t spoken in days so having to keep him from getting suspicious wasn’t hard, he’d have no clue that he’d return from a different country to find you and your belongings gone.

And that’s exactly what happened, the boy sighed as he slid his key in the lock, his body aching and exhausted from the back to back races and constant time changes.

“Baby?” He called stepping into the dark apartment, it wasn’t like you to be out at nine pm but he shrugged it off and pushed up the light switch that was next to the door.

However his stomach dropped as the apartment lit up, all of your shoes that had been on the shoe rack were gone, your favorite blanket that had always been on the back of the couch gone as well.

He dropped his bookbag before darting towards the shared bedroom, his heart racing as he found your vanity that once sat in the corner of the room gone, your side of the bed perfectly made as if someone had slept there in days.

Reality crashed down on him when he walked into the closet to find all of your things gone, your key to the safe sitting on top of one of the shelves and the boy couldn’t help but to open it up only to find that all of the expensive pieces he bought you were sat contently inside, your custom Richard Mille still right next to all of his.

Getting back on his feet he raced back into the entryway for his phone, however the sight of something on the kitchen counter caught his attention.

He felt tears prick his eyes at the sight of your necklace laying beside a folded up paper, the necklace he got you at seventeen, the necklace that you hadn’t taken off since the day he put it on you.

“She’s gone.” He whispered to himself, picking up the note and reading what you had to say, full on sobs escaping the boy by the time he had made it to the end.

And I’m just getting color back into my face

It was almost a year before he saw you again, he watched as you walked into Pierre’s birthday Party on Kika’s arm.

Your skin was glowing and the laugh flowing from your mouth was genuine as well as the smile that tugged on your lips.

He felt his stomach twist as he realized how good you were doing, how good and happy you looked, without him.

You wouldn’t admit it but your eyes had found him as soon as you walked into the venue, however you didn’t let him see the way that your heart hurt by just the simple sight of him.

However your best friend caught it and was quickly spewing out apologies, “I’m sorry, I told Pierre it was a bad idea bu-“

“Kika it’s okay, I know their friends as well, I’m not mad.” You laughed at the girl’s rambling.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” You smiled, “now let’s go get drinks and hit the dance floor.” You smirked dragging her towards the loaded bar.

You two ended up spending a good bit of time on the dance floor, dancing until your feet were aching and you decided it was time for a short break and some fresh air.

“I’m gonna get some air, I’ll be right back.” You spoke into your friends ear.

“Okay.” She smiled before spinning from your body into her boyfriend’s opened arms.

You smiled at the pair before making your way off the dance floor and to the small balcony on the floor above, allowing yourself to be cooled off by the soft breeze of the evening air.

You were so caught up in your relaxation that you missed the sound of the door opening and shutting or the presence of the British driver behind you until he spoke up.

“You left me.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, the voice you hadn’t heard in nine months.

“It was for the best.”

“What just leaving? Not giving me any explanation or warning? You pretty much abandoned ship and left me hanging.” He scoffed.

“I abandoned the ship?” You scoffed, “Lando I fought day in and day out for us, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“But I loved you!, no actually I still do, you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“If you loved me so much then where was the proof? Huh? Because I sat around hoping and praying to the gods above for you to change and for things to get better but they never did.” You cried.

“I was trying okay?! I was doing my best to make things better-I just needed time.” He exclaimed, his hands tugging on his messy curls.

You laughed at his words, turning back to face the skyline of the small city, the wind making the tears on your cheeks feel like ice.

“I explained everything in the note.” You mumbled after a few moments of silence.

“I know I read it..I-i just don’t know why you wouldn’t let me fix things.” He spoke.

“I tried Lando, so many fucking times. I waited and waited for you change and for you to realize how much I love you but you never did so I gave up, I couldn’t keep doing that to myself.”

You kept your eyes trained on the view of the city even as he came to stand beside you, your heart aching for you to lean into him and give it what it so desperately wanted, but you couldn’t.

“Is there ever going to be a chance for us again?” He spoke up.

Your body shook at his words, tears streaming down your face at this point, “I don’t think so Lan, I love you I really do I just don’t think we’re meant to be together anymore.” You whispered turning towards him.

“You’ll find someone one day, and I hope that you never put her through what I went through in the end. You gave me some of the best years of my life but, this is the end for us.” You cried, unconsciously reaching up to wipe the tears off of his tanned cheeks.

Your heart clenched at the way he leaned into your touch, his body yearning for you just as much as yours was for him.

“I’ll always love you.” He cried.

“I’ll always love you too.” You sobbed stroking his cheek one last time before placing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips before stepping back and heading inside.

Leaving your past behind you and continuing to heal yourself.

So long, London..

[mandarinmoons]

angst, related to the idea i said earlier about her getting abducted and spencer helping save her - reader has some ptsd from the traumatic event that happened on the case, so spencer is there with her staying the night sometime after and so she wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panicked because of a nightmare and he tries to comfort her and she’s apprehensive before allowing him to hold her but obviously she’s like out of it. that’s the beginning of the rockiness, and then like if you want to write something longer you could continue from there? or maybe just keep it a blurb if you do choose to write this. 🩷 :)

You sat up on the bed, gasping for air as you tried to make out where you were. The room was dark and you couldn’t make out anything due to it, which made your breathing more labored.

“Y/N… are you okay?”

Turning your head, you made out Spencer’s worried face in the dim lighting. He was here so you must be safe.

When you didn’t answer, Spencer sat up and inched near you, but not too close as to not freak you out even more. Ever since you got home after the whole situation you’d been through you’d flinch at even the slightest touch by anyone. Spencer was hurt to see you turn away from him when all he wanted to do was comfort you, but he knew it was nothing to do with him and tried his best to give you as much time as you needed to feel comfortable again, to feel safe again.

Spencer lightly placed his hand on the small of your back, a slight shiver going down your body and your heart beat picked up due to nerves, but slowly and surely you managed to calm down and found the act of Spencer lightly caressing you comforting.

“You’re okay sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Your lip trembled at his words. Every time you closed your eyes you were brought back to the warehouse the unsub had taken you to, the smell of gasoline seeming to waft through every corner of the building. The pale blue walls that had obvious signs of water damage and what seemed like dried blood, you wondered how many people had been taken here before you and what their fates had been like and if yours would be the same.

As Spencer sensed the trembling starting to rock your body, he took a chance and scooped you into his arms, your chest against his while he held onto you tight.

This sudden contact made you burst into tears. At first, you tried to push yourself away from him, but a moment later you smelled what seemed to be Spencer's aftershave and the fragrance had an immediate comforting effect on you.

It reminded you of when the team came to save you, Spencer was the one who untied the ropes you were bound in and you flew into his arms the second you were free. The sobs that racked your body seemed to be endless and the only thing seeming to calm you down was Spencer’s perfume. It helped to cover your nose of the piercing smell of the gasoline that you had been suffocated in for days.

As your breathing calmed down and the tears dried on your cheeks, your head rested on Spencer’s shoulder and the feeling of his fingers caressing your back playing with your hair, felt more than welcome now, if not felt more of a necessity.

Spencer stared at the dark wall, counting your pulse in his head and trying to determine if you were calming down or if he had made a wrong move and freaked you out even more. The last thing he wanted to do was cause you any more pain when he was the one person you had let so close after returning home.

You woke up every night, several times due to the nightmares. Unbenounced to you, Spencer was too, if not barely sleeping. He was awake at least half of the night, making sure you were getting some well deserved rest. The second he sensed it was too stuffy in the room he’d open the window and as soon as he saw you shaking even the slightest bit, he bolted to close it and pull up the covers on your body.

He laid there, more than half of the night, counting every breath you took to make sure you were sleeping peacefully. To make sure the man who took you was no longer occupying every crevice of your mind, to make sure you were out of harm's way. It was difficult, yes, Spencer didn’t know how long it would be until he would have a breakdown from the exhaustion, but he couldn’t let himself break, he wouldn’t let himself break, because you needed him and he needed you even more for his sanity.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager @indyvelazquez @nini123 @justlivinginadaydream @kers505 @dan-the-womans-blog

Notice: I am no longer adding people into my taglist and will be discontinuing it soon so if you'd like to be kept up to date with my future works then please follow me x

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[stuffyflowers]

finally refined my amalgamate kanako take a little bit. was gonna annotate my thoughts on the image but i hate making compositions lol, so ill just talk below the cut in a semi-ramble. enjoy!

she is fused with a few other dunes monsters. when she woke up in the lab without her mother, i feel like she wouldve latched onto the most familiar looking monsters for some semblance of comfort and spent the most time with them before... everything went wrong. if you haven't guessed already, they are:

a dunebud (eyes)

a cactus monster (back spikes)

a monster of the same species as bryan (guy you give the hard hat to in the mines) (general long body, arms, slug-like tail)

(i would like to give each of them more defined individual personalities/names/etc at some point too, but i havent settled on anything yet. stay tuned for that if you want i guess)

much like how crystal (snowdrakes mum) seems to be the 'main' host in her amalgamate, kanako has the most control in this amalgamate (probably something to do with her having a stronger soul than most monsters). when this is the case, the left side of the face is visible and the left ear perks up. when one (or several) of the other monsters are fronting, this occurs for the right side instead.

for anyone who didnt know, the uty devs confirmed they intended for kanako to be the spoon amalgamate who tucks frisk in, which my take on her is inspired by. when she starts to lose memories of her old self as all the amalgamates do, she holds onto the faint memory of ceroba tucking her into bed. one of her daily routines in the lab is neatly making every bed until one of the others makes a mess of it, then rinse and repeat. again and again.

like how frisk helps the other amalgamates remember their old lives through acts, they help kanako remember her mother more clearly when they hop onto the bed, hence why she fondly pats their head as she can now remember ceroba doing after tucking her in every night.

the unfortunate side effect of her regaining a large chunk of her memory is that her guilt over 'failing' the experiment resurfaces, and she convinces herself that her mother wouldnt want to see her, even if they were ever allowed to go free. she ends up being the last amalgamate alphys reunites with their families, it takes a lot of convincing from her as well as the other parts of kanako that want to see their families to get her to leave the lab.

to keep it short, kanako and cerobas bond after the barrier breaks starts off a little rocky. ceroba is of course overjoyed kanako is alive, though it does take her a long while to get used to her being made up of three other monsters. they both still have feelings of immense guilt towards each other due to the incident that got them in this situation to begin with, which also takes a long time to smooth out. regardless, they are both doing their best to move forward and make the most of the second chances theyve both been given.

[bowsnstrings]

🎀Love At First Sight🎀

Warning! Contains: Drinking, Alcohol, Swearing, and Original Character

Overnight fame was one hell of a thing. One year ago, Ony was selling his beats to low budget rappers, charging forty an hour for a session, and working a second job just so he could make rent for his studio. Hustling between construction and music to make his dream happen, and he just had to make it happen. He’d been in love with music since his mom got him a toy microphone as a toddler, walking around in diapers rhyming in the kitchen for her any chance he got.

It wasn’t until last year, that his song he released blew up quite literally over a single night, and he gained over 700 thousand monthly listeners. From there things only got better with the addition of money, chains, diamonds, private planes, bigger houses, and more music. Now he’s got millions of people who follow him and stream his songs all over the world, tons of people hounding him to collab, and girls trying to get at him wherever he goes.

He brought his friends up with him. Both Connie, an up and coming music agent, and Eren, a fellow rapper became famous with him. Eren’s music is being streamed all over for his ability to rap in English and Japanese with swag, and Connie now has a rolodex of clients with Ony and Eren at the top of that list.

Now suddenly, he’s sitting in his own after party after winning his first music award, the cold trophy sitting heavy in his hand as he watches everyone party around him. He felt like he was staring off into space again, the shock from winning still lingering on his mind, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful.

Nothing else could pique his attention when he was like this, especially since Ony usually sits by himself at these types of parties. His low taper fade with waves was fresh for the night, and his suit felt too tight before he got rid of the tie and unbuttoned it a bit at the top. He doesn’t even show off the gold grillz that sits on his teeth; instead, he keeps his mouth shut and limits his reactions to nods and shrugs.

Things like this bored him, industry parties where he had to play nice, acting like he even liked half the people in the room. However, if he wanted to sell his beats and keep making music, he had to act at least a little interested. This is what Connie, who’s now his manager, reminded him of as he spoke to him, telling Ony to, “Fix your fucking face, you’re scaring everyone away.” Then, he went to mingle with some artist's agent to get them on a song. Connie always knew Ony would blow up, always booking him in small night clubs and now arranging him for the big league gigs.

Ony only smacked his lips in response, wondering just who Connie was talking to before turning to look at Eren as he flirted with some girl at the party. That nigga was dead wrong, especially since Ony saw another chick leaving his apartment this morning. That didn’t stop him from trying to take this next girl to his place for the night, Eren always had to play up into his Playboy persona.

Ony shook his head as he turned to check out the bar, he might as well get drunk, everybody else at this party is. He stood up, adjusting his clothes as he made his way over, some people turning and interrupting his path to congratulate him, and girls asking when he’s free to produce one on one with them. Ony mostly ignored everyone though, tuning them out by trying to think of new song lyrics, his trophy still in hand as he looked for a place he could safely put it.

The blue strobe lights were distracting, making his head pound slightly as he made it to the bar. He leaned over, asking for a double shot of Don Julio 1942 as both Connie and Eren made their way to him. Eren pat him on the shoulder, smiling as he saw Ony finally get a drink, he’d been in his head this entire time, not saying much since he won. “Finally gonna party man? All of this is for you anyways.”

“Yeah man,” Connie chimed in, leaning back against the countertop, “Gotta stop moping around, you won. This is only the beginning.” They were right, but for some reason it just didn’t feel real yet, like he didn’t actually win anything. He felt a bit hollow inside, trying to fill it with alcohol at the moment. Ignoring the pounding in his head, he took the glass the bartender set in front of him and downed it quickly.

As he picked up his head to finally acknowledge his friends, someone caught his eye from the corner of the room, turning instead to look and see. Across the way sat a girl, all alone on one of the couches, looking around and tapping her nails against her thighs nervously. Ony perked up suddenly, lifting his head higher to see her better, staring over Connie’s head as he and Eren turned to see just what Ony was looking at.

They both looked confused when Ony was caught staring dead at a girl. That was really unlike him, he usually made a considerable amount of effort to dodge girls who were interested in him, not wanting someone who likes him because of the sudden status he found himself in, but clearly something about her was a bit different.

“Aye Con, who’s shawty over there?” Ony finally asked, dropping his attention back down to his friend.

“Oh, her? Her name’s Princess, she's one of Sasha’s artists.” He shrugged casually, he and Eren were trying but failing to contain their smirks as Ony silently mulled over everything. Princess, cute lil name, felt light on his tongue as he said it.

“Why? You feeling her or something?” Eren leaned in close to Ony, jabbing him in the ribs suggestively.

“Can’t be interested in a girl now?” Ony said, never taking his eyes off the way she slung her hair over her shoulder as she looked up and spoke to someone passing by, even from far away he could tell she was a shy lil’ thing. He smiled a little as he leaned back over the bar to ask for a entire bottle of Dom Perignon.

“What you need a bottle for?” Eren chuckled lightly, Connie masking his laughter with a cough as Ony gave them both death glares.

“I’m just gonna talk to her right quick.” He put simply, holding the ice cold bottle in one hand, and his award in the other, leaving his friends to make his way over to Princess.

She was busy in her own world, looking at herself in a small compact mirror, touching up her lip gloss. Princess looked stunning, wearing a white floor-length satin gown that she must’ve had on during the award ceremony. Beaded and shining under the lights, the white looked heavenly on her, and as he got closer he saw her nails matched the same white as well.

But as he trailed down… as he trailed down all he could think about was how gorgeous she looked. Dressed or not. Her breasts accentuated and pushed up in the gown, though on the smaller side looked so tempting. Her waist cinched in before rounding out around her stomach and hips. Her hands trying to cover up her midsection as the satin stretched around her thicker than average ass that he could see while she was sitting. Damn, anyone from across the room could see her ass.

Ony swiftly slid into the seat next to her, watching as she looked up at him, turning to see him sit. Their eyes locked momentarily, before she quickly turned away back to her mirror. He licked over his lips with a smile, leaning over to drop the bottle on the edge of the table with a thud. It caused her eyes to flicker over again, but stay longer this time, fully turning her attention to him.

He watched as Princess looked him over, taking in his suit, then trailing up his chest to where his heavy chain sat. Her eyes raised to his face last, raking over his goatee and confident smirk, to Ony’s dark brown eyes and the small scar in his left brow.

“Hey,” He nodded towards her, snapping her out of her gaze. She blushed and tried looking at the sea of people for a moment as he continued. “Want to have a drink with me?”

She scrunched her nose at his request, and he had to hold back the laugh that filled his belly. He couldn’t help it, she just looked so unexpectedly cute, and it made him wonder what other reactions he could pull from her. “A drink?” She asked, looking at the bottle of expensive champagne.

Their eyes met for a second time, Princess blinking wide eyed and shy while telling him, “I don’t drink.”

“You don’t?” Shocked at how sincerely she said it, like she couldn’t help but tell the truth. That threw him off a bit, he had to drop his well rehearsed flirting since his first tactic wasn’t an option anymore.

“No, I’m sorry.” She mumbled out, closing her compact and sliding it back into her clutch. “Congrats on your win though.” She was obviously about to get up and leave, meaning Ony had to act fast to get her to stay.

“You a fan of my music?” He slid a bit closer, nothing drastic, but enough that would catch her attention, genuinely wondering if she even knew that this party was for him, or if it was just another industry thing to come and be social at random penthouses.

“I’ve heard one song, New Money, but that’s it. Sasha and Mikasa invited me.” Ony didn’t know Sasha, but he knew Mikasa well enough, he stored that bit of information away for later.

“That’s cool, I don’t think I’ve heard your music either, did you do anything I know?” He shifted closer again, ducking his head down to hear her clearly when she spoke, making her face heat up.

“Uhm, I used to sing gospel only, and I just made the switch to R&B. I’m just breaking in the door, you know?” She said, twirling her hands nervously.

“That still ain’t a song name Ma, I like gospel.” The pet name rolled off his tongue so casually she almost didn’t hear it.

“Oh,” That was surprising. From the music she heard it didn’t seem like Ony was the gospel type. “It’s my time, Up and Rise, He is Righteous.” She listed off a few, one particularly catching his attention.

“Hey, I know Up and Rise. I didn’t know you sung that though.” He took the bottle from the table, dropping his award down on the sofa next to her as he began unscrewing the cap. Nodding his head as he remembered how it went.

“Yeah, that was me.” Princess felt a small burst of pride at the fact that her song was liked by someone in music outside of the genre, not many people knew her music other than the gospel community.

“I love that song, the melody is fye.” He mumbled as he gripped the cork with the side of his teeth, pulling for a quick second before watching it pop and the champagne fizzle out the bottle onto his hand for an unexpected drizzle. He didn’t comment on the way it dripped onto the floor, just turned to her again and asked, “Where you from?” Effortlessly bringing her back in, sounding softer than he would normally, she could hear the way he was actively trying to be nice.

“Oh, Marietta, Cobb county.” She said, watching him take a swig of his drink straight from the neck of the bottle. Though his actions and voice were a little rough, it was undeniable how hot he looked. She noted that he looked especially hot as he drank.

“So you’re the Princess of Cobb county, huh?” She finally saw a flash of something shiny in his mouth when he smiled at her, full and playful. Both rows of his teeth covered in diamonds from his grill, shining as the light hit it, making him look beautiful.

“I wouldn’t say all that.” Princess shyly mumbled, turning away to try and see where Sasha and Mikasa were. She hoped they weren’t coming back so soon, she wanted a bit more time to talk.

“Shit, I would.” The tension was becoming thicker and thicker, making Princess shift uncomfortably on the sofa, looking forward for a moment to cool herself down.

“Where are you from?” She politely asked back, looking at him again to convey her interest.

“Adamsville.” His tone sour as he said it, taking a swig from the champagne to mask what he was feeling. Usually, when people hear where he was born and raised, they start to treat him differently. Like he was some scrapyard dog, feral and rabid, a thug.

“Really? I have some cousins who live out there.” She smiled, unforced and natural. “I used to have fun in the housing units with them.” The way Ony’s head popped up in curiosity didn’t go ignored by her, and she watched as he perked up in a happier mood.

“Yeah? You ever lived there before?”

“No, the most my grandparents would let me do was spend a night. By the time we were twelve they moved out, but I had fun memories there.” Princess reminisced, as she spotted Mikasa drunkenly trailing behind Sasha who was storming her way up to her. “It was nice meeting you, but my friends want to leave.”

“Wait, how can I get in touch with you?” He stood up with her as she smoothed down her dress, inwardly swearing when he saw how she looked standing. She was fucking beautiful.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Princess rushed out, starting to walk away before stopping to say, “Maybe we can talk about it if we see each other again.” A hopeful tone, and shimmer in her eyes.

“Come on girl, I love your voice. I want you on a song with me.” Just as she opened her mouth to answer, Princess was forced to look away when someone who Ony assumed to be Sasha grabbed her arm, pulling her forward.

“Princess, we got to go. It’s so late and your photoshoot is at 10 am.” Before Ony could get another word in, she was dragged off, her head whipping to glance back at him as she left. He sighed heavily, feeling like he lost his chance for a moment. Eren and Connie approaching him as he stood, bottle in hand, trying to think of a solution.

“Damn, you get her number or what?” Eren asked, checking out Princess as she walked away until he saw the glare Ony was giving him.

“Nah, but that’s alright. I got an idea.”

Hope you guys enjoyed my little fic and OC! It means a lot to me that people liked my headcannons so I thought I’d try writing a little something! - Bow 🎀✨💐

[01zfan]

bike peg | p. wb

wonbin x fem. reader | 11.6k words

wonbin gets cheated on and gets his lick back…listened to prom by sza and erase by omar apollo while writing this!

contains: cheating, descriptions of a toxic relationship

visiting home wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and wonbin knew it wasn’t. the constant demand to be his best in the city was slowly wearing him down, and the pace of life was completely different from how he grew up. wonbin found it ironic that he found himself needing an escape from the place he moved to the moment he graduated high school to escape his hometown. something about looking for more out of life under the guise of pursuing his passion. 

wonbin found out quickly that he had bit off more than he could chew, blinded by the naive cockiness like most people his age. he was constantly on the go, needing to constantly be moving so he wouldn’t get left behind.

wonbin felt like he hadn’t stopped running since he left home. he hit the pavement running the moment he moved to the city. he ran straight into a shitty job that barely paid him enough to make ends meet, causing him to run into a lease with a girl he didn’t know. she was mysterious and elusive, completely unlike anyone wonbin had met before. unlike wonbin she was born and raised in the city, with her foot already in the door towards her career. wonbin’s fascination with the way his roommate carried herself transformed into pining, and pining somehow turned into dating.

wonbin’s relationship with minju was rocky before it even started. he knew it was a bad idea to date his roommate, the first person he built a rapport with in the city. wonbin knew that. what wonbin didn’t know was that too many circles in the city overlapped, and nobodies exes stayed as their exes. wonbin didn’t know the the man that was “like a brother” to minju was actually something much more than a close friend. they were so convincing, and wonbin was too caught up in running to see what was going on right under his nose—but maybe he chose to ignore it. all wonbin knew was that minju started coming home late smelling different and her friend started acting awkward around him. 

wonbin was spread too thin and stress blinded him. he had gotten to the point that his feet throbbed at the end of his days, he even dreamed about running even in his sleep. he never knew where he was running to, only that his speed caused him to bump into faceless throngs of people, saying quick apologies as he made his way through the crowd. 

wonbin also found himself apologizing more than he ever had in his life. he apologized for speaking and for walking, he apologized for looking at the sky and doing too well at work. wonbin apologized in his dreams and attached shy sorry’s to almost every sentence. wonbin sorry is what minju called him. at first it was an endearing nickname, or atleast wonbin pretended it was. apologies became an innate part of wonbin. there was so much to feel sorry for—his plants that didn’t get watered, the rotting food in his fridge, his mom who had a son that didn’t call. apologizing was such a habit that wonbin even apologized when he caught his girlfriend cheating on him.

wonbin saw everything before they noticed him standing there. he saw minju and her friend on the couch they bought together in their shared apartment completely enveloped in eachother. wonbin stood there for a moment, letting the scene take place in front of him. the way his girlfriend was on top, eyes closed in bliss as she rode her bestfriend. the way her friend’s hands roamed all over her body. they didn’t look up or stop moving until the paper bags full of groceries shifted in wonbin’s hands. when they finally noticed him, their eyes went wide realizing they’ve been caught redhanded. wonbin was the first to speak.

“sorry.” wonbin said when minju yelled.

wonbin’s mother from the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder was the second to speak.

“binnie, what’s wrong?” his mother’s voice cracked through the speakers.

minju and juyeon or hyunjae—wonbin couldn’t place a name to the face—were the third to speak. they were completely in sync, mumbling and reaching for clothes at the same time. wonbin could see them looking for their clothes, some of them strewn throughout the apartment. minju looked down at wonbin’s feet as she grabbed a blanket to cover herself. when wonbin’s eyes looked down he saw her top lying next to her feet.

“i’ll call you back, mom.” wonbin said.

wonbin hung up on his mom mid sentence, looking back up to his naked friend. no one spoke, not until the man started hastily putting back on his clothes looked to wonbin and minju.

“i should go.” he said quickly.

his jeans were left unzipped and his shirt was on backwards as he walked past wonbin with his head hung low. wonbin almost wanted to leave with him. he was one more stressful situation away from his brain collapsing in on itself like a supernova. so he cleared his mind, closed his eyes and started pulling out the things needed to make dinner. wonbin faced his back towards minju, the situation out of his sight and mind while she started putting her own clothes back on. he opened the cabinet to grab a cutting board for his vegetables.

“i’m going to visit my mom.” wonbin decided outloud.

wonbin would never admit that he was relieved when his mother asked him to come visit. her voice was distant over the phone, almost a whisper when she expressed her wish to see her son again. wonbin’s mother loved the dramatics, evident in the how she constantly talked about how empty the house felt like since he left. wonbin didn’t bring up the fact that his dad and older sister were still very much alive and living at home.

wonbin’s mother nearly blew out his speakers when he told her he booked a bus back home. her shrill screams were the only sound in the apartment. the sound caused minju to look over at wonbin’s phone. he ignored the look, and she only lingered for a second before going back to her book to reread the same page. the situation with minju was even worse now, and wonbin hated that it felt like it was his fault. he had never learned about the dangers of living with your cheating girlfriend, or else he would’ve declined her offer to co-sign a lease. 

minju gave her excuse for cheating being neglect. wonbin was too busy to spend time with her, and always too tired to touch her at night. her ex was at her disposal at all times, and knew what she needed emotionally and physically. wonbin could only nod his head, having nothing else to add after minju spent an hour defending herself. she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms when she was done, waiting for wonbin to say his favorite word.

“sorry.” wonbin apologized.

wonbin saw his girlfriend let out a sigh of relief, as if he had taken all the blame for the situation. when wonbin watched minju roll her eyes he felt anger and unbridled emotion bubble up in his chest. he wanted to yell to, he had the right to be angry. but as soon as the anger was about to boil over it subsided as wonbin thought about all the other stressful things in his life.

when minju was done telling wonbin her side of the story she looked to him expectantly. he thought about comforting her, telling her she wasn’t wrong for cheating.

“what now?” he asked simply.

minju bristled when he asked that question. she snapped her book shut and cleared the room, leaving wonbin alone on the couch. she told wonbin that he was running from his problems, straight to a place he knew she wouldn’t follow him to. the salty sea breeze and lack of stores open twenty-four hours warded her off. wonbin wanted to tell her he didn’t choose where he grew up, but instead he only said sorry.

wonbin was even more confused when minju gave him a hug and a kiss before he left for the bus station. she seemed remorseful now, eyes worried when she said she wanted to try working things out. wonbin couldn’t bring himself to say no to minju, even though he knew it was what she deserved. for some reason, he was still hung up on her. he still made her food they still watched their television shows at night together, rewatching the episode that played on the television when she was caught. the only difference was that they slept on opposite ends of the bed with their backs facing eachother. 

maybe wonbin’s absence would fix things. maybe being apart from minju would dull the pain in his chest he ignored for her sake.

he thought about minju the whole ride back home. he slept most of the ride, only waking up occasionally when his mind told him his stop was close. at some point during the ride wonbin received a text from minju telling him to travel safe. the heart emoji that ended her sentence unfortunately made wonbin feel like something could be salvageable if he apologized enough. 

instead of replying, wonbin only shifted the duffle bag on his shoulder and followed the mass of people leaving the station. he was tired and sore from sitting in the same position for hours, something he hadn’t done in a long time. when he left the station he took a breath of fresh air when he exited the bus station, and closed his eyes to adjust to the sun. here it shined bright like the sun was closer and the air was clean from lack of pollutants. 

he had almost forgotten about the summers. he spent so long in the air conditioned apartments of the city he almost forgot the countryside, how the breeze from the sea made even the hottest days bearable.  back in the landlocked city, the sun reflected heat from the payment and beat down on everyone. there was no reprieve from the heat, wind not being able to get past the walls of buildings. 

wonbin. couldn’t stop himself from wishing minju would give his home a chance. she wouldn’t bake in the sun here, and the vibrant green that surrounded him would bring out his favorite parts of her complexion. she could dig her manicured hands into the soft brown soil and realize there was a whole world of color outside of the abysmal grey buildings that normally surrounded her. they could’ve experienced the best parts of his city together.

the worst part was that the main mode of transportation was by car. there was no trusty public transportation system that wonbin had grown to memorize like the back of his hand. wonbin forgot that being carless without a license outside of the city would force him to become crafty. wonbin started crossing busy intersections on foot and walked carelessly on paved paths that abruptly merged into the road.

wonbin stopped trying to venture out far due to the safety concerns brought up by his parents. summer brought back the crazy drivers, ones that didn’t care about pedestrians. wonbin found himself to be even worse than them, crossing intersections without having the right of way. he was forced to get crafty again when he saw his older sisters childhood bike sitting in the corner of the garage. 

the bike quickly became his main mode of transportation, and wonbin now only travelled locally. he reasoned that he was fighting back against the automotive industry that was determined to ruin the beautiful landscapes of his home. wonbin was singlehandedly offsetting the carbon emissions of vehicles by riding his sister’s shitty little bike. it was basically the same thing as a car. he was on the road, he had a turn signal that was his hand. he could even hit the throttle by standing up from the tiny seat to add more force behind his peddling feet. 

the pedals were too low on the bike and the seat was entirely too small. the chain always sounded like it was going to rust away and the chipping pink paint always found its way to his clothes or skin—but it worked. even if the bike felt like it would collapse under wonbin’s weight it always got him to his destination. riding it was at first embarrassing, but it turned into nostalgia. he remembers taking his sisters christmas gift for joyrides around his town. it was his first taste of rebellion, stealing something from his sister—that in wonbin’s defense she didn’t use—to have fun around his town. wonbin remembers removing the training wheels and the bike pegs to ride around on the streets long after the the streetlamps turned on. wonbin’s mother and sister were fuming each time he came back. he was covered in sweat and smelled like the earth, with his hair mussed from the wind that ran through it.

now was no different. each morning when his parents left to run errands wonbin rode the bike out the garage at the speed of light. each time his sister would yell after him, claiming that the rusting bike was still hers. he laughed and teased her as he rode it away just like when he was a kid, looking back to stick his tongue out at her. occasionally she would try throwing something and always miss, wonbin laughing at her failed attempt as he sped off. 

when wonbin hit the open road the wind gave him relief. it was additional relief from the heat, and from the situation back home. if he thought about minju for too long, quick flashes of jealously would cross his mind. the feeling was cold and bleak as wonbin thought about what minju was doing. he was almost driven to ask for her location, or at the very least call her. but he let the wind wick away his sweat and cool his mind. when he passed by the foliage of the town it all became a green vibrant blur, like it was shot on technicolor. life was lively just like when he were a kid and he tried to be carefree like a child too. wonbin kept smiling all the way to the gas station, his legs taking him there purely on instinct. his knees were ten years old again as he peddled down the street, passing by childhood friend houses that were occupied by different families now. 

wonbin didn’t slow down until he got to the parking lot. he came down from his standing position on the bike until he was sitting on the tiny seat. the seat eroded over the years, exposing hard parts of the foam. when wonbin sat down he could feel the texture of the ground beneath him. each pebble and bump in the street he couldn’t avoid. the texture of the paved road changed to the dirt parking lot, until he got to the textured concrete stoop of the store. wonbin came to a slow stop right beside the door, pulling out the flimsy kickstand that barely supported the weight of the bicycle. 

he got off and adjusted his shorts that rode up from his legs. almost instantly, the heat of the day caught on his skin, and the heavy air of the surrounding water made everything feel sticky. the heat was becoming thicker as the day went and wonbin couldn’t wear any less to try and fight it. the chipped paint particles of the bike stuck to his skin like freckles, glued to him from the sweat. but this is where wonbin was born and raised—it didn’t matter if he didn’t look his best. so he walked more relaxed than he ever did in the city, saying hi to the person that passed by him to get into their car. the stranger told wonbin that he had a nice ride with a smile on their face. he smiled back and offered to trade for the car, tilting his head as he put his hand on the door.

the small bell above the entrance rang when wonbin pulled the handle. it bounced off the walls but was so familiar no one looked up. if no one came in shooting a gun or demanding money, it was business as usual. everything about the gas station remained the same, especially the selection of food and the clientele. there were two maybe three people looking for a cool drink to help beat the heat or a snack to hold them over until their next meal. the only difference was that there was an ancient television propped in the corner next to the booth where the cashier was. this was different from the small television that stood above the alcohol, warning people that they were on camera. this television had a terrible case of burn-in, and was stuck playing reruns of some show no one watched anymore. everyone came to this gas station but it was never busy, evident by the worker behind the register that flipped through a magazine without a care in the world. 

wonbin didn’t think too much about what he was going to buy. it was a treat each time he came here, and each time wonbin found himself craving something different. 

he grabbed a small plastic basket, one that was in worse condition than his sisters bike. it was funny how worn down everything in his town was. he went through the small aisles of the gas station, so close to the drink fridges he had to press his body to one side each time someone passed by him. 

wonbin browsed for what seemed like hours, constantly taking out snacks and putting them back on the shelves and holding drinks side by side to decide which one is better. when wonbin put back a drink for the fifth time and let the fridge door close on it’s gasket he heard the worker behind the counter.

“you’re going to let all the cold air out.” she said with indifference. 

wonbin tried looking over the aisles of snacks to get a better look at whoever scolded him. he couldn’t make out anything about you, other than the uniform shirt that wasn’t buttoned all the way. he only got a glimpse of your collarbones moving and the bracelets that adorned the wrist that held your bored head upright through the magazine pages, and the rings on your fingers that rubbed your chin. wonbin only saw the smallest part of your face that wasn’t obstructed by the aisles in front of him. 

you still didn’t look up from your magazine, wonbin could hear flipping the pages over the music that came from the blown out speakers. he said nothing in response but took your scolding into account, only opening the fridge one more time to grab his final drink choice.

wonbin found the food you wanted quickly, grabbing a snack from the shelves he hadn’t seen in the city. wonbin grabbed more than he should’ve, almost cleaning out the entire supply.

wonbin navigated through the aisles again, smiling past the new faces that entered the store while he were browsing. he set the basket on the counter, pulling out his debit card to set on the counter.

when wonbin pulled out his card and looked up from the basket, he finally got a full look at the cashier who scolded him. wonbin saw you look up from your magazine in slow motion, stilling like a movie before him. you were like a dream, your hair was up to try and manage the heat, the strands blowing from the fan that cooled your face. wonbin focused on the sweat that started at your hairline that caused your face to shine like gloss. your faced shined despite the dim lighting of the gas station that casted a green-yellow tint over everything. wonbin didn’t know something so contemporary existed in his archaic hometown. you were too beautiful to be stuck behind the plastic barrier that separated the two of you. you were too elegant to have your backdrop be cigarettes, condoms, and lighters. 

wonbin took in all your features but settled on your lips last, his eyes drifting when he saw them move before going back to their original expressionless line. a second too late wonbins eyes flickered to yours, watching them raise from where you sat. you looked to his items and then pointed underneath the counter. wonbin blinked and moved the empty basket away. 

“sorry. what?” he asked.

“i asked if you wanted a bag.” you said.

“yeah.” wonbin cleared his throat. “paper please.” he said.

wonbin saw your eyes dart up to see if he was serious. wonbin caught himself a second too late, getting a scoff from you before you pulled a plastic bag from below the counter. the bag crinkled as it interacted with the wind, opening to full capacity as the air pushed it open. you put in his stuff with ease, typing wonbin’s total into the point of sale system before turning it to him. wonbin shook his head while he put his card in the empty slot.

“we only got plastic here.” you said smiling.

“sorry. it’s a habit.” wonbin said.

you only hummed in acknowledgment before going back to your magazine. his bag stood upright from the weight of his drink—he hated that the bag blocked some of your face. 

wonbin was used to being ignored, customer service wasn’t something he found himself looking for when leaving the house. he actually preferred to have as little interaction as possible with people he didn’t know personally. he liked to be in and out, getting what he needed—nothing more nothing less. regardless, when wonbin saw you turn back to your magazine his mind started frantically beachrching for a way to get your attention back.

“i’m visiting family.” wonbin blurted out.

“cool.” you said simply, still turning the pages of your magazine.

“my name is wonbin.” he blurted again.

his unprompted introduction got your attention. you looked up from your magazine, chewing the gum that lost it’s flavor a long time ago. it was in your mouth purely to keep you awake and to occupy your mind. the gum was turning to rubber in your mouth as you took him in. you found him to be much more entertaining than the petty drama of the rich you were forcing yourself to read about. the way wonbin wore his white mesh shirt with the solid shirt underneath was better than the celebrities in their designer dresses, and his curled black hair gave him a boyish look that complimented his shy demeanor. when you looked up at him he looked away, the tips of his ears were more red than the marlboro’s that sat behind you. you thought you had seen the boy that stood in front of you riding around on that tiny bike, but you never got a closer look at him.

“hi wonbin,” you flicked your head towards the glass window where the bike leaned on the other side. “that’s your bike out there?”

you saw wonbin come to, shaking his head a little too fast. you closed your magazine and leaned forward, coming closer to the clear plastic barrier that separated to two of you. wonbin leaned back slightly, and the tips of his ears got redder.

“it’s my sisters. it’s really old. i have to ride it because i don’t have a car. because i live in the city.” wonbin rushed.

you nodded calmly to each additional statement wonbin made unprompted. he was becoming more and more flustered just by you giving him your full attention. 

you looked at the point of sale system, it was screaming at wonbin to take out his card, and you had two person line forming behind him as he racked his mind for something else to say. you tapped the part of wonbin’s card that stuck out before he snatched it away.

“sorry.” he apologized again.

“no reason to apologize.” you said simply.

you spoke to wonbin, looking up quickly as the receipt printed from the machine. the proof of transaction curled towards you as it printed out slowly. 

wonbin watched your impatient hand pull the paper out a little too fast, leaving a tiny ripped piece behind. wonbin quickly took his bag off the counter and casted a glance back towards the two people in line. wonbin for some reason stood in place, like he was waiting for you to dismiss him. he never waited around this long, always politely shaking his head when asked if he wanted the receipt. but he stood underneath the buzzing fluorescent light while you grabbed a pen and flattened the receipt with your non-dominant hand.

“you want your receipt?” you asked, not looking up from the paper.

wonbin nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him nod. he cleared his throat again, feeling the impatient eyes of the people in line behind him. it felt hotter in the gas station than it was outside—wonbin started sweating underneath his airy shirt.

“yes please.” wonbin said.

you slid the paper across the counter towards him. the receipt curled back in on itself when you took your hand away. wonbin quickly grabbed the paper, as if someone was going to snatch it from him. your attention went to the person behind him in line, gesturing forward to let him know he was next. he kept it moving in a daze, sounding off the same bell as he exited the gas station. he walked along outside slowly, trying not to show you how much he was freaking out through the glass. wonbin didn’t let himself look at the note until he stood beside his tiny bike that was one gust of wind from tipping over.

wonbin ran his fingers over your number written in ink and beamed at the tiny note at the bottom.

i’m off work in thirty minutes.

wonbin looked inside the gas station, watching you help the next person in line. you looked back for just a second as the person approached your register, smiling and gesturing for wonbin to call you. he smiles before getting on his bike, placing his bag in the little basket in front of the bike. 

wonbin planned to make it back to his house to shower and dress in nicer clothes before going back to the gas station. he remembered the semi nice summer clothes he never took with him when he moved, and he remembered his sisters offer to trim the ends of his hair that had grown in uneven. he planned to make himself look nice, maybe even pick up some food he thought you might like. wonbin looked at the sky biking home, thinking about how happy you looked to give him your number. his mind was too focused on the clouds that he didn’t notice the bike underneath him finally decided to give up. 

when the chain broke, wonbin didn’t initially notice. all he knew what that one second he could pedal and the next he could not. there was no resistance from the pedals but he lost control, the bike behaving on it’s own. for a moment wonbin thought his legs were failing him. but when he looked down he saw the rusted chain loosely hang on the gears of the bike he felt it veering to the side of the road. he was going to fast to stop safely, and the sudden change in angle almost threw him off of the bike’s eroding seat.

wonbin was able to gain control of the bike only for a second. just when he thought he gained control of the steering the terrain underneath the old wheels changed. the old wheels weren’t used to the dirt, or to the wildflowers that tangled themselves in the wheels. the sudden stopped strew wonbin off from the side, causing him to fall partially down the steep hill of the wild flower bank. suddenly the blue sky was replaced with the tall green grass and the colorful blooming flowers. 

landing on the flowers was better than landing on the paved roads, but regardless it was painful. it didn’t help that wonbin rolled down the hill, leaving a burning feeling on the exposed skin of his leg. he stayed still on the ground for a moment, looking up at the sky with a completely different mood. the white clouds moved quickly above him as he registered what just happened. wonbin bent all of his limbs to make sure nothing broke or was strained. he lifted his head slightly, seeing the still spinning front wheel of his previously working bike and the rusted chain that now was completely gone. 

wonbin propped himself on his elbows next, seeing the dirt and grass stain on his shirt and pants, and seeing the red scrape on his knee. that was the only thing that hurt, wincing when he touched it. wonbin stayed like that, laying in the flower bank as he realized what just happened.

wonbin wasn’t sure how long he was laying in the grass. cars past by wonbin unstopping, his body hidden by the long grass. it wasn’t until he heard a bike passing by him before stopping suddenly.

“you dead?” you said to wonbin

wonbin looked up from his spot on the earth. he saw you sitting on your bike with the pegs on the back wheel, one foot kicked out to keep you upright. you looked slightly concered, peering down at the laid out body beside the road.

you were no longer in your work uniform, dressed in something trendy. you were dressed like minju. wonbin thought you wore it better before he cringed at himself inwardly. 

“my bike broke.” wonbin said casually. 

he looked towards the bike and you followed, eyes going wide when you notice the missing chain. the wheel had fallen off in the process too, rolling down the hill all the way to the gate that separated the beach from the flowerbank. 

“i saw you laid out, thought you knocked yourself out or something.” wonbin still laid on the dirt, looking down at his throbbing knee. he heard you walk through through the grass until you stood beside him on the hit. wonbin tried to look at your face but the sun that shined behind you obstructed his vision. all he could see was your hand that you put out towards him. “are you going to lay there all day?” you asked.

wonbin grabbed your hand and you pulled him up, helping him take off blades of grass and dust off some of the dirt. wonbin inspected his knee and the grass stains embedded in his jeans. you saw the injury on his knee after you did a once over of his body. 

“my house is near here.” you pointed down the road. “we can get you cleaned up or something so that doesn’t get infected.” you said, pointing to wonbin’s knee.

when he looked back at the bike you looked too, thinking about what to do.

“i can drop you off at your place after. i don’t think we will be able to fix that.” you said.

wonbin nodded, and slowly walked behind you as you made your way back up the hill. wonbin bit his lips as he forced his legs to walk normally. 

when you two made it back up the hill, you put the kickstand back up and straddled the seat. you pointed your head backwards to the two bike pegs that jutted from your back wheels.

wonbin understood, putting on foot on the bike peg and a hand on your shoulder.

“help me kick off and then you can put your other foot up.” you instruct.

wonbin hums in acknowledgement, paying attention to when you start peddling on your bike. wonbin uses all of his force on his good leg to kick off, giving you enough speed to peddle with the extra weight added on. wonbin lets his foot dangle for a second, ready to dismount if you lose control. but you’re a better bicyclist than wonbin, instantly finding your balance and making your way down the road wonbin fell off of. he looks back for a second at the tiny pink bike laying on the hill, silently memorizing it so he can come back.

wonbin balances on the bike pegs behind you. he holds onto you tightly, still traumatized from the thought of falling off a bike again. you are unaffected, peddling down the road chirping your bell at people who pass by. when you take a turn wonbin leans, doing his best to keep the balance.

“where do you live?” you ask.

wonbin barely heard you, too enveloped in the sound of nature around him. your question registers a second later, and wonbin clears his throat.

“seoul.” wonbin says.

wonbin expected to hear the trademark oooh or ahhhh that comes from people’s mouths when he mentions where he lives. wonbin always lets his chest swell in pride when he hears the sound. but you are indifferent, only humming as you continue to peddle.

“i go to college there.” you ring your bell at joggers who wave at you. it’s wonbin’s turn to hum in acknowledgement. “not all it’s cracked out to be.” you say after a beat of silence.

“definitely not.” wonbin agrees.

you were right about your house being close by.  before wonbin could ask you about your life in seoul, you stopped in front of a house. wonbin had lived here his whole life and never seen this house. wonbin thought it was by design as you led him up the driveway. your house was blocked from all sides due to the growing trees, shrouding your house in shade. wonbin must’ve passed your house at some point in his life, not seeing what was right in front of him.

as your bike got slower, wonbin dismounted, feet digging into the gravel driveway. he hissed from the pain of dismount, completely forgetting his knee was in pain.

“be caareful.” you chided.

wonbin nodded his head, about to tell you sorry until he remembered what you say in the gas station. no reason to apologize wonbin assured himself. he instead nodded his head, following beside you as you dismounted your bike too.

“my parents went to a wedding. they’re not here but they don’t care when i have guests over.” you said.

wonbin passes by the car in your driveway, following behind you closely as you walk beside it. wonbin can’t help to take a peak inside the car through the tinted windows. he sees the steering wheel cover and the dangling charms from your mirror. 

“you drive?” wonbin asks.

“yeah but not lately. my car broke, and my parents refuse to help me get it fixed.” you say.

wonbin remembered seeing the PLEASE FIX ME :( written in the dust of the back window. he wonders if that’s why you have a shitty job at a gas station instead of working and living in seoul. you leave your bike on it’s kickstand beside your steps before walking up the stairs. 

you open the front door, you couldn’t be bothered to lock it. no one here bothers to lock their doors or lock up their bikes—they’ve never had to. wonbin remembers that bad habit he had to break when he heard about burglaries in his building. 

he watches you walk through the space of your house, beginning your short tour at the front entrance where you kicked off your shoes and ending it in the study. you only mentioned the kitchen you two walked through in passing, and failed to show wonbin your bathroom before disappearing to grab him stuff for his scraped knee.

“make yourself comfortable on the couch. i’ll be back.” you say.

when you are gone, wonbin lets himself finally limp from the pain. he practically hobbles to the couch, uneasy on his good leg. his body falls on the side of the couch, letting his body sink into the armrest and cushion as he takes in his appearance. dried blood and dirt is caked on his knee, he somehow got dirt underneath his fingernails and his clothes are stained from the grass. wonbin sees a tear in his clothes he didn’t detect before. he had a really nasty fall, and was more hurt than he realized. brambles and scratchy plants left tiny scrapes that itched on his arm and thighs. 

“i’m back.” you say.

wonbin turns to you coming back from the hallway, one hand holding hydrogen peroxide and the other holding bandages. wonbin sits up on the couch scooting closer to the armrest to give you the most space. instead wonbin watches you sink to the ground on your knees, putting your supplies on the carpet next to you. 

you look up to wonbin before looking down quickly. wonbin’s eyes stay on the top of your head, not knowing what to do being this close to you. you don’t know either, by the way you constantly clear your throat and hesitate speaking. it isn’t until you clean wonbin’s knee with a warm rag that you speak.

“this is going to hurt.” you say.

wonbin can’t react before you press a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide to his knee. wonbin jerks, pressing his knees together and winces in pain. it’s you apologizing this time, laughing slightly at his reaction. wonbin laughs too, to stop himself from rubbing his wound with his dirty hands.

you put ointment over his scrape before covering it with a large bandaid. wonbin wants to tell you he feels better, that he thinks your touch healed him. but all the words are lost when you look up at him from your spot on the ground. 

“thank you. i feel better now.” wonbin says. 

his hands come down his thighs, ending right before yours start. you still have one hand above the injury on wonbin’s knee, at some point you moved your other hand to his knee too. you’re touching him and wonbin thinks it’s too unfair. he wants to reach out and touch the apples of your cheeks, or touch a piece of hair that frames your face perfectly. your hands grabs onto wonbin’s knee a little tighter and you readjust your body, sitting on your haunches. wonbin lets his hands drift over the tops of your soft hands, holding onto them. your eyes stare at wonbin, and he leans closer to your sitting body on the ground. he can see the shadow of his face cast on yours, how your eyes shine brightly as you look at him. wonbin doesn’t dare come the rest of the way, he only closes his eyes and waits fro you to decide what he deserves.

when you press your lips to wonbin, he takes in how good you smell. sweet and fresh like clean laundry. even being inside the sweaty gas station for god knows how long you still smelled like a living flowwer. wonbin tumbled down a hill of flowers, he knew he smelled like sweat and dirt. his fingernails were dirty, too dirty to touch you. he was getting his grimy smell over your body. he needed to take a shower. he needed to be home. he needed to call minju. 

wonbin abruptly pulled away from you. your lips are still puckered when your eyes flutter open.

“i have a girlfriend,” wonbin sees your expression become shocked. “back home.” he added quickly.

your body that was leaning into wonbin straightens, and he can see your shoulders visibly sag. you comprehend the information wonbin gives you, rubbing your lips together briefly.

“oh.” you said quietly. 

you fixed the sleeve of your shirt that had fallen past your shoulder, turning your body to face wonbin’s wound instead of wonbin’s face. he still stayed in place, replaying the moment of you craning your body towards his lips in to kiss him over and over again. 

you tend to wonbin’s wound again, still gently as you two sit in silence.

“why isn’t she here with you?” you asked finally.

“she hates the beach. and she hates riding bikes.” wonbin knows he’s speaking to quickly, giving you too much information. but he keeps feeling the ghost of your lips on his again. “she also cheated on me.” he added.

that caused you to look away from his wound to look at his face. he wanted to tell you the details, how he caught her on a couch the same size as this one. but he just kept looking at your lips, how soft they were and how they moved to shape sounds coming from your mouth into words.

“i’m sorry.” you said. 

you brought a hand to wonbin’s thigh. he doesn’t remember the last time someone touched him so intimately. but it was under false pretenses.

this touch was for comfort, and wonbin didn’t need to be comforted. he shook his head lightly before placing his hand over yours, stopping your ministrations on his leg.

“don’t be. i’m okay.” wonbin said.

both of you raised your eyebrows at wonbin’s i’m okay. it fell from his lips unnaturally, after he took a beat to lick his dry lips. there was a faint taste of your chapstick. wonbin decided then and there that he was not okay, he needed to kiss you until he found out what flavor was on your glossy lips.

“i was cheated on, too.” you said.

you squeezed wonbin’s hand a little tighter, and he looked to you with wide eyes.

“i met him in college, we were dating for a year? i think,” wonbin sees your eyes go up as you try to remember the dates. you pause for a moment before realizing the exact details don’t matter. “i found out he was sleeping with a girl he was childhood friends with.” you say.

wonbin wonders if you caught them the same way he did. he wonders if your boyfriend told you not to worry about his friend.

“how’d you get over it?” wonbin asks.

he squeezes your hand back and you give wonbin a smile. maybe you are embarrassed for sharing too much. maybe you’re embarrassed for wonbin. either way, he watches your eyes go to the frayed fabric of wonbin’s jean shorts. you pick at it for a second, still pinching the white strings as you look back up to wonbin.

“i fucked his bestfriend?” you say.

you say it like your confused, like you weren’t there when it happened. wonbin assumes the relaxed way you said it came with time of healing. wonbin prays he will get to that point soon.

“did it make you feel better?” wonbin asks.

wonbin sees you think. he sees you look upwards, laughing as you recalled the memories.

“as twisted as it sounds,” you looked to wonbin “it felt fucking great.” you said with a smile.

if wonbin was in his right mind, he would’ve asked you to take him home. he would’ve called minju to break up with her, or at the very least call her in efforts to relieve some of the pain he felt in his chest.

“but they’re still friends and my parents are at a wedding. so who really won is still up for debate, i guess.” you laugh dryly.

wonbin doesn’t bother to ask anymore questions. maybe if he actually had something to apologize for next time he talked to minju he could move on. so he closed the distance between the two of you again, bringing both hands to your surprised face to pull you in.

both of your eyes closed at the same time, and wonbin let you take the lead to deepen the kiss. your hand on his thigh was even softer on his face. wonbin leaned back feeling you stand on your knees as you tilted your head to the side. wonbin followed and separeted his knees, letting you slot between them. 

your face underneath wonbin’s fingertips was soft, almost as soft as your plush lips and your wet tongue that touched his. you were a much better kisser than minju. maybe it was wonbin searching for a reason to feel better about kissing a stranger while his girlfriend wanted to get back together. the more he kissed you the more he forgot, only one thing on the forefront of his mind when he pulled away again.

“strawberries.” wonbin said casually.

you were confused, blinking away your blown out eyes as tongue swiped over your lips.

“what?” you asked.

“your chapstick. it tastes like strawberries.” he repeated.

when wonbin specified, your whole face smiled. it started at your lips and reached all the way up to your eyes while you nodded. you brought wonbin’s face back down to yours, so close that your lips were touching before you spoke.

“yeah, you’re right.” you said.

you brought wonbin back in, kissing him for what seemed like ages. when you pulled away his lips were swollen from the biting, and he was breathless. you seemed to still be ready, kissing and sucking on his neck. wonbin felt your hands travel from his face to his shoulders, picking at the neckline of his shirt. your hands went further down, tracing the sides of his body until you reached the waistband of his jeans.

wonbin couldn’t stop himself from grabbing your wrist before your hand can  fumble with the button of his pants. he doesn’t want you to stop, but the way his chest is already heaving makes him think he may pass out. when you look up at him between his legs, wonbin gets lightheaded.

“do you want me to stop?” you ask.

wonbin shakes his head, his hand still gripping your wrist.

“you have to let go of me so i can take care of you wonbin.” you say.

your words are kind and dripping with honey even though wonbin knows he’s being annoying. when he would be in situations like this with minju, it was always orders with a hard voice instead of something so nice and sweet. sometimes he liked that, but most of the time he wanted to be treated gently—the world was already so rough with him.

wonbin doesn’t let go of your wrist, but loosens his grip allowing you to move freely. you take it as a green light, still keeping your eyes on him as you unbutton his pants. you pull the loose denim down to his ankles, treating it as a cushion for your knees. 

in just his briefs, wonbin feels exposed. the hard outline of his dick in his line of sight makes him feel lightheaded. when you slowly inch your hand up his thigh, closer and closer to his twitching length wonbin has to lean his whole body into the back of the couch for stability. he unknowingly tightens his grip on your wrist, already fighting the urge to rut into your palm.

wonbin is embarrassed, especially how you halt your movements to look at his twitching thighs, and how his free hand underneath his thigh digs into his skin. wonbin can tell you are looking up at him, but wonbin can’t take his eyes of your ceiling, counting each individual tile.

“does your girlfriend touch you like this?” you ask quietly.

he shakes his head, sinking further into the armrest of the couch. minju only needed to tell wonbin once that she doesn’t suck dick. the closest he ever got was a sloppy handjob, that ended with wonbin apologizing profusely when he came all over her hand and his stomach.

“are you a virgin?” you ask.

wonbin shakes his head again. he twitches in his briefs at the tone of your voice, how delicate you are with him. wonbin realizes he knows nothing about you, and you probably know even less about him. you take the time to know him intimately on your couch, trying to make him feel as comfortable as possible by rubbing his legs soothingly.

“i’m sor—”

before wonbin can finish, his words trails off when you place your hand over his clothed dick. his sentence ends with a whine as his dick twitches towards the warmth of your palm. he screws his eyes shut, completely losing count of the tiled ceiling. 

when he feels your wet lips on his thigh, wonbin looks down at you.

“don’t apologize.” you place another wet kiss, one that wonbin follows until he sits on the edge of the couch. “i like how sensitive you are.” you say.

wonbin doesn’t know if you’re talking about him physically or emotionally. his eyes are already wet looking down at you, how your other hand starts messing with his elastic waistband. almost like a switch had flipped, wonbin feels his normal apologetic attitude shift to thankfulness. maybe it’s the way you sound in awe at wonbin’s twitches, or how you let his hand guide you on how he wants to be touched.

your hand pulls at wonbin’s waistband, and he sits up from the couch to give you more access. you’re able to pull his briefs all the way down his legs, freeing his heavy dick so it can slap against his lower stomach. wonbin whines at the sensation of himself being fully exposed, and you hum sympathetically

“so pretty.” you blow cold air onto wonbin’s dick, watching it jump slightly from his stomach. wonbin digs his nails further into his thigh. “can i touch you, wonbin?” you ask.

wonbin nods his head, feeling you wrap your hand around his length. he can’t let go of your wrist, using it as a method of grounding himself. 

you are careful and slow, gathering the precum from wonbin’s sensitive tip to help you glide down his length. wonbin takes deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth, letting his breath catch in his throat when you grip his length a little tighter.

when wonbin peaks down to see your hand wrapped around his dick he thrusts up into your hand. it’s a knee jerk reaction, something wonbin doesn’t care to control because it makes you bite your lip and pick up the pace of your hand. when wonbin sees his tip poke out past your hand red and angry, he lets his loudest whimper slip past his lips.

“keep going.” you sound almost as desperate as wonbin feels. “keep going.” you repeat.

wonbin listens to you, weakly lifting his hips to continue fucking your hand. his dick glides through your fist from the precum, and wonbin doesn’t stop even when his thighs start to burn. he takes his hand from his thigh and digs it into the armrest instead to keep his body suspended. his hand on your wrist moves to cover your hand on his dick. wonbin wedges his fingers in between yours, and you both form a fist together. 

“can i suck on it?” you ask quickly.

“yes please.” wonbin whines.

you take your hand away from wonbin’s dick, and he continues to pump his dick alone. you use both of your hands to presson his thighs, bringing him back down to the couch. you waste no time guiding wonbin’s dick to your mouth. he can feel his wet fingers poke your soft bottom lip as he lets go of his dick. you’re determined, only pausing for a second before taking the rest of wonbin in your mouth. 

you’re wet and warm around his dick, and when you hollow out your cheeks wonbin presses his back into the couch. he almost wants to pull himself out of your mouth, whimpering in your quiet living room about how sensitive he is. but wonbin looks down at your wet eyes looking up at him, how you bat your eyelashes before moving a spare hand to massage his balls. he sees your nipples poking through your shirt, how your chest is perched perfectly on the couch so close for him to touch. he can see the arch in your back, and he imagines your ass sticking out perfectly. it’s too much, all too much for poor thankful wonbin. 

his hand goes to fist your hair and his whimpers turn to moans. it makes you take him deeper, pulling his dick all the way from your mouth before you take him to your throat. even through the gagging and tears forming at your waterline you don’t stop. wonbin doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, to have someone so pretty on their knees in front of him. you were the same girl that wouldn’t give anyone the time of day from your little box inside the gas station. but you look up at wonbin, treating him better than he ever has been treated his whole life. his hand in your air tightens but it doesn’t guide you. he is overwhelmed with emotion, and he just has to feel you somehow. you grab his free hand that is clenched beside him and wonbin instantly intertwines his fingers with yours.

“i’m close.” wonbin whines.

you nod and pinch his thigh, causing his to jerk upwards quickly. your moans vibrate around wonnbin’s dick, and he understands what you want him to do. he starts lifting his lips and fucking your mouth, slow in comparison to your bobbing head. when wonbin feels like he’s about to burst at the seams, he grabs himself from the base and pulls himself out of your mouth.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smearing the spit at the corner of your lips across your chin. 

wonbin blinks quickly and runs his tongue over his wet lips. he’s never been good at asking for what he wants, especially when it came to sex. he was content with getting or giving whatever minju was in the mood for, too shy to ask for anything more. so wonbin’s request to have you ride him dies in his throat. he is at a loss for words when he sees your wet eyes become confused.

“too much?” you ask.

“not enough.” wonbin says.

wonbin reaches for your shoulders, trying to pull your body up from the ground to come closer to him. you’re slow getting up, legs slightly sore from being on your knees for too long. you grab something beside you before fulling standing in front of wonbin. you hand him the condom, and he looks up to you with big eyes as you work for the button on your shorts. he can see your midriff directly in front of his face, he focuses on the skin as he puts the condom on his sensitive dick.

wonbin looks up between the valley of your braless chest to see you looking outside. wonbin is grateful for the sun that shines all day, giving him a perfect view of your face. you look down at wonbin as your hands go to your shirt, inviting him to take your tight jeans pants off for you.

wonbin is quick, pulling off both your panties and jeans in one go. when they pool at your ankles you step out, stumbling slightly from not being able to see. your shirt is halfway over your head but wonbin is there to keep you steady. his hand wraps around your ass and the other presses into your side, bringing your stomach so close to wonbin his nose presses into your abdomen. he takes in a deep shaking breath of you, smelling the sun and your body wash. everything about you is so green, so lively and luscious wonbin presses his teeth into the skin of your stomach. you gasp lightly and look down at him, hands going to his shoulders when you get your shirt off. your smile tells wonbin that you like it, and your head tilt when he sinks his teeth in deeper tells him you love it.

wonbin pulls away, a string of spit connecting his lips to your stomach. you come down from standing, using your hands on wonbin’s shoulders to push him down gently. wonbin puts all of his trust in you, still having both hands on your body as you slowly push his back to the couch.  

his head was leaning on the headrest when you let go of his shoulders, using your hand to trace down his body. your hands didn’t discriminate, they didn’t work around the grass stains of dry clumps of dirt still stuck to his body. you dragged a hand slowly down from the center of his chest, not stopping until you got to his straining dick again. you come close to wonbin until your chest touch as you guide his length to your entrance.

“is this alright?” you ask. 

wonbin nods and closes his eyes as he feels his tip prod your entrance.

“yes, minju.” 

wonbin realizes his mistake a second before it’s too late. he hadn’t even thought about her up to this point, only thinking about you. it’s still a habit, saying his girlfriends name during sex. his eyes shoot open, to your face that is still understanding. you only shake your head slightly before kissing wonbin’s cheek and going to his ear, letting your breath fan the shell.

“you know my name.” wonbin’s hand on your hip tightens as he feels you guide his tip past your folds “let’s say it together.” you whisper in wonbin’s ear.

he nods against your head, and your name becomes prolonged and broken with a whine as you completely guide wonbin’s dick inside of your cunt. 

both of you feel it, how you fit together like puzzle pieces. wonbin’s foot is planted on the ground beside the couch, and your leg goes in between the cushions as you draw your hips back up. you regretfully pull away from wonbin to get a better angle. you plant your feet on the coffee table beside your couch and the other one sinks in the crack of the couch. you don’t care, because it allows you to rise and fall back down on wonbin’s dick. both of his hands help you, and he doesn’t let anything else fall from his lips except for name.

wonbin gets too close to finishing too fast. it’s inevitable, the way you look above him and how his hands feel against his skin. he can’t focus on how your walls feel wrapped around him, how you suck him in each time you sink your body bad down. wonbin grips at handfuls of your sweaty skin as he starts lifting his hips to meet yours.

“i’m close.” wonbin whines.

“okay.” you whimper back.

wonbin watches your hand drop to your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves. he lets you focus while he takes charge of bringing your hips down to his. the wet sound fills the space of your living room, and wonbin can feel his sweat dripping onto the couch. 

“i’m close too.” you were in a haste, not letting up on your clit as wonbin continued bringing you down with more force. your hand that held onto the back of the couch was clutched by wonbin, holding your hand as you both became too sensitive to speak. “i’m gonna cum, wonbin.” you say.

“me too.” wonbin says a moment too late.

he can’t bring himself to pull your hips down as he empties into the condom. you milk wonbin’s dick and twitch above him, your hand spasming as you continue your revolutions. wonbin wishes he had another hand to stimulate your clit for you, but his hand is too busy holding parts of your body he doesn’t want to forget. when your body bends forward he lets go of your hip to hold your head, bringing you to the crook of his neck. both of you become squirming messes, rutting your hips recklessly against eachother. you pull away from his neck and rest your forehead on his, mouth agape as you ride out the wave. wonbin looks you straight in the eye, losing himself in the way your lids become hooded and sleepy when you finally start coming down. 

wonbin rests against the couch, letting his clammy body find it’ss strength again. you fold over and the two of your are chest to chest again, rapid hearts beating on top of eachother. wonbin holds you tight to his chest, as he feels tears prickling his vision. he blinks them away, choosing to focus how your finger draws light shapes into his arm. you don’t look up at wonbin’s face as you continue drawing your shapes.

“my parents are probably on their way back now.” you say absentmindedly.

wonbin bites his lip, hoping to taste strawberry.

“my mom is probably worried.” wonbin says.

you sigh heavily, bringing your head from wonbin’s chest to look at his face. you brush his overgrown bangs from his eyes, looking deep into them with sadness.

“we should probably leave then, huh?” you say.

wonbin can only nod, afraid that he will cry if he speaks. so you move off of him silently, shivering when his dick slides out of you. you put your clothes back on and wonbin does the same. he pulls his pants back up while still sitting on the couch, cringing at how uncomfortable his wet briefs feel. 

the tied off condom is thrown away in the kitchen trash, hidden underneath rearranged garbage. wonbin follows you silently out of your home, taking one last look behind him at your living room before closing the door behind him. maybe he can dream about this instead of running.

“i know the way back to my house, so i can drive.” wonbin offers.

you nod, letting him take the lead down the stairs as he carefully takes your bike off the kickstand.

“it’ll probably be easier to ride than that little kid bike.” you laugh.

wonbin laughs too as he adjusts the seat, he does a few test peddles and you watch, hands on your hips as wonbin gets used to a bike made for someone his age.

you follow behind him, letting him gain momentum down your driveway. when wonbin is about to make the turn off the gravel path, you place hands on his shoulders and jump seamlessly onto the bike pegs. once you’re on, wonbin picks up the speed, transitioning from your driveway to the road.

as you and wonbin ride to his place, the sun begins to set. the world is illuminated in a calm blue, and the cool breeze causes both of you to let out sighs of relief. wonbin looks to the side to the beach. the waves call to him, almost like a siren when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

“sorry, can we stop here,” wonbin points to a hill leading down the the beach. he’s quick, only letting the bike wobble for a second from the loss of equilibrium before bringing his hand back to the handle bars. “i have to make a call.”

wonbin feels your hands that gripped his shoulders loosen as the bike regains balance. when he gets your approval he strays from the main road onto the dirt path made by foot traffic. 

before the hill goes down wonbin stops, letting you get off before fishing his phone from his back pocket. he’s silent as he sees no new notifications rest on his lock screen. he can tell you notice, by the way you offer to grab the bike and point your head towards a place of privacy that faces the beach.

“i’ll be up here. i don’t have work tomorrow so take your time.” you say with a smile.

wonbin nods before making his way down the hill. it’s familiar, memories of running down the hill recklessly fills his mind. he remembers coming here to smoke, passing around a cigarette he didn’t really have a taste for with his friends. wonbin didn’t remember the comfort being surrounded by water brought him. being landlocked made him forget the soothing sound of the waves crashing, or the salty breeze that made him feel stronger. the strength of the water came to him, making him pull up minju’s contact and pressing call. 

minju was a nightowl. there wasn’t a doubt in wonbin’s mind that she was awake right now. if he were to text her this she would’ve replied back instantly. he figures it’s harder to hide the fact that there’s someone else in the room when you’re on the phone. 

regardless, wonbin holds the phone up to his ear as he waits for the automated voice. by the time he hears the tone to leave a voicemail he is leaning against the railing, head in his other hand as he closes his eyes. the summer night is comfortable, and the slow breeze cools wonbin’s face. he wishes it could take away his nerves, or that the words he needed to speak would be carried to him by the gentle wind. wonbin anxiously rocks on his feet and bites his fingernail. the lack of feedback on the other side of the line only makes him more timid.

“hey minju.” he said.

wonbin listened to the waves crash on the sand, and the sound of grass moving in the light breeze. his voice hesitated, and wonbin imagined the dark night he stared into as the void in minju’s voicemail box.

“i slept with a girl tonight,” wonbin takes his face from his hand to grip the railing. “that wasn’t you.” he added.

wonbin looked towards the beach, making out the white crest of the waves as they crashed down. he thought about you, how you pulled him in close before crying out his name. wonbin thought if it felt like that when minju slept with her ex, if she completely forgot about wonbin like he forgot about her. he wondered how minju could experience something so beautiful and then try to come back to him. 

the feeling of betrayal grew, starting at the soles of his feet up to his hair that blew in the wind. tears stored from his apartment blurred wonbin’s vision and when he blinked they rushed down his cheeks. 

“i don’t know how you could do that to me.” wonbin’s voice shook as he spoke.

he bit his lip and pulled the receiver away from his mouth as he tried to clear the rock in his throat. when wonbin felt like he had strength again, he brought his phone back to his lips.

“i was neglectful. you were right. i forgot what it was like to be in the moment with somebody.” he said.

wonbin looked down at his feet, then back towards the beach that minju hated so much. he looked back at you. you held your bike still on the side of the road. a car passed by, its headlights illuminated your worried smile. you put up a hand awkwardly, waving to him. wonbin waves at you, giving you a meek smile before turning back to look at the beach.

“i think it’s best if you stay at your friends for awhile.” wonbin says.

before he can say say sorry, the automated voice on the other side of the line tells wonbin his time is up. he keeps the phone to his ear for just a second longer before slipping it into his pocket.

when wonbin’s shoulders start to sag and the tears come freely, he can hear you coming down to him from the top of the hill. you bring yourself and your bike all the way down, until you are standing side by side. you let your bike lean on your body to free your hand. you pat wonbin’s back and grip his shoulders. it isn’t until he wipes away his tears that you speak.

“did she answer?” you ask quietly.

wonbin shakes his head.

“voicemail.” wonbin says simply.

“i’m sorry wonbin, truly.” you debated on giving him a hug, even with the bike in between your bodies. “atleast the sky is really pretty.” you say lightly.

wonbin looks up from his feet to the sky. the stars shine bright, not clouded by the pollution of the city. he doesn’t remember the last time he has looked at the sky, or shared something so beautiful with someone before. wonbin turns to you to see that your gaze hasn’t left the sky either. for the first time in his life he isn’t sorry, he stares at you unapologetically. 

wonbin finally turns away from the beach. he cranes his neck slightly, to kiss your wrist that comforts him. it’s a quick peck, a sign of gratitude both of you struggle not to dissect. instead wonbin holds out his hand for you to go in front of him as you make your way back of the hill. your bike gets caught on some of the weeds, and you almost stumble when a rock slips underneath your feet. wonbin knew to keep a hand behind you, making sure you remained steady the whole time.

one back on the road, you and wonbin silently got into place. the roles were reversed, this time it was you driving while wonbin perched himself on the bike peg. he helped you gain momentum by kicking off like he had done earlier, his foot immediately going to the peg.

you peddled in silence. wonbin started looking ahead at the open road, feeling the wind hit his face. wind whipped in his ears and tried the tears on his waterline as you went down a hill. wonbin let the scenery of his town at night pass him in a blur. wonbin tilted his head, from here it felt like he was getting closer and closer to the stars. his hands on your shoulders were light and your peddling was steady, arguably aimless. wonbin felt himself becoming more and more calm as you two continued to go down the road. he adjusted his feet on the metal pegs, and let out a deep sigh as the wind blew stress from his shoulders.

[bloatedandalone04]

Fluff → 💕 | Angst → 💋 | Smut → 🔥

All works are written by me and are not given consent to be reposted anywhere else other than my own account (reblogs are fine)

Dom Hayden Blurb

Social Media Au

Fever Dream 💕

➪the one where you and hayden celebrate his birthday.

Open Invitation 🔥

➪the one where hayden’s day off with you gets interrupted.  Done Right 🔥 ➪the one where you and hayden get back to your unfinished business. (part 2 of OI)

Like Fine Wine 💕🔥

➪the one where you can’t resist hayden’s look for his role in ahsoka.

Sweet Spot 🔥

➪the one where hayden goes down on you.

Santa, Baby 💕

➪the one where you and hayden celebrate christmas. Bring in the New Year 💕🔥 ➪the one where you and hayden enter a new year together (part 2 of SB).

The Night has Just Begun 💕🔥

➪the one where you and hayden make a sex tape.

Second Nature 💕

➪the one where hayden is not only protective over you, but the tiny person he helped make with you.

Ride With Me Series 💕🔥💋

➪the one where you and hayden meet and fall in love, despite having a rocky introduction. (racer au)

He’s Got My Name 💕💋

➪the one where everything a.j. does, he does for you. Tattooed On His Arm 💕💋 ➪the one where a.j. finally gets the money for your treatment, but at a cost. (part 2 of HGMN)

The Only One Invited 💕🔥💋

➪the one where you’re with a.j. and ghost, your ex, gets out of prison.

No One Else 💕🔥

➪the one where you throw a housewarming party, and a.j. isn’t fond of all the guys staring at you in his new living room.

Dating Anakin Skywalker would include;

Blurb 1

Cosmic Love 💋

➪the one where you break anakin’s heart after he unknowingly broke yours. Back To You 💕💋 ➪the one where anakin is slipping away and needs you more than ever. (part 2 of CL) The Story of Us 💕💋 ➪the one where things are a a bit different after you and anakin get back together. (part 3 of CL/BTY)

Heartbreak Prince 💕💋🔥

➪the one where you’re a princess and anakin saves you in more ways than one. 

Shadows of Your Heart 💕💋

➪the one where anakin makes it up to you after being distant during a mission.

When Faced with Darkness 💋

➪the one where you and anakin reunite years after he turned to the dark side.

Screaming Whispers 💕🔥

➪the one where anakin is a musician and you’re his muse. ➪Something to Write About. (one shot | part of the SW au) ➪Love & Bound. (blurb | part of the SW au) add ons; one, two

Wrapped Around Your Finger Series 💕🔥💋

➪the one where you and anakin struggle to find time for each other after his first tour wraps up. (continuation of screaming whispers) Series Playlist

Love Language 💕💋

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Sound of Your Heart 💕💋

➪the one where you take care of clay after his surgery.

In The Way I Need You Series 💕🔥💋

➪the one where clay needs a babysitter for his son, and you just so happen to be more than willing to take up his offer.

Blurb

If I Love You was a Promise 💕💋

➪the one where james’ brother comes home just when things were falling into place. Don’t Come Back For Me 💋 ➪the one where everything falls apart. (part 2 of IILYWAP) Careless Whisper 💕💋 ➪the one where james struggles with getting used to his life without you, even nearly a year after the break up. (part 3 to IILYWAP/DCBFM)

The Perks 💕🔥

➪the one where you get to experience all the perks that come with being james’ wife and biggest supporter.

Dating Luke Reiter would include;

Right Back to the Start 💕💋🔥

➪the one where luke wakes up to the abandoned city of detroit and doesn’t think twice about looking for the one person that always meant the most to him.

Til Morning Comes 💕💋

➪the one where luke is late for work after spending the night in the sheets with you, but quickly discovers that his attendance is the least of his worries.

Teen Romance 💕💋

➪the one where you try to make sam see just how good he has it, and he almost loses both you and his dad before he finally changes his act.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 7 - Madrid or Manhattan | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

The following day, you couldn’t take the distance or the unknown any longer. That night had been a blur of bad decisions and misplaced anger, and now, with a mildly more clear head, you knew what you had to do. You needed to see Jude, to confront him, to figure out where you two stood. The thought of him with someone else, or worse, of him moving on from you, was unbearable. You had to know if there was anything left to salvage. You had acted out and you’d need to fix this or put it to bed. Once again, in a last ditch effort, without hesitation, you booked a flight back to Madrid, your heart racing as you imagined what might happen when you saw Jude again. If he had done it again—if he had been with someone else since your last conversation—you knew you would have to walk away for good. But deep down, you hoped that wasn’t the case. You hoped that Jude had been as miserable as you had, that he had spent every moment thinking of you. You didn’t tell him you were coming, you wanted him to not know in case he was with someone else. That’d be it for you. You were racking up flight miles. The environment was screaming at you but you took another flight anyway. When you arrived at Jude’s house, your nerves were frayed, your emotions teetering on the edge. The lack of sleep catching up to you. You didn’t bother with the formalities this time, just knocked on the door and waited, your heart pounding in your chest. When Jude opened the door, his surprise was evident, but there was something else in his eyes too—relief.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a mix of surprise and something that sounded like hope. “You’re here.” Jude felt his heart beat slow down to a point where he wasn’t sure if you were really there or if he was imagining things.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice wavering slightly. “I’m here.” You stood there for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say, until Jude stepped aside to let you in. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you.

“Looked like you’d been having fun lately. Saw the posts,” Jude admitted as you sat down on the same sage green couch that used to be a place of comfort until your relationship or whatever with him was shattered in a moment by him, the tension palpable. He didn’t mean to sound so passive and short but he was hurt. “I know what you were doing. And I hated every second of it.” You winced hearing him call you out layered with a bit of anger of your own too.

“Having fun?” Your eyes narrowed on him, annoyed he said that. “Whatever. That was the point,” you replied, not unkindly, but with a bitterness that lingered in your voice. “I was angry, Jude. I didn’t know how else to make you understand how much you hurt me.” And when you told Jude that you had slept with someone to spite him for doing the same, it hit him harder than he expected.

“I know I messed up,” Jude said, his voice thick with regret, tears building on his waterline. “I haven’t done anything but think about you since you left. I was so stupid, so insecure, and I let it get the best of me. But I haven’t been with anyone else, Y/N. I swear.” Jude took a deep breath. You studied his face, searching for any sign that he was lying, but all you saw was the same regret and pain you had been carrying. The anger you had been holding onto started to crumble, replaced by a deep, aching sadness.

“I have though…” You cried. A sight Jude hadn’t expected. He knew you were upset but he put it down to anger but sadness, a broken heart, he could barely look at you. He felt more sick than before knowing that he made you feel this way. He knew. You tried to take a deep breath but you were shaking. He knew you well enough to know how you’d respond to him hooking up with someone else. The divide between you was so vast you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to build a bridge. The jealousy and hurt twisted in his gut as he realized that the thought of you with anyone else was unbearable. To know you were in someone else’s bed made him sick. It had been building since he slept with another girl but as he heard it roll off your tongue, that was the moment Jude understood that what he felt for you went far beyond just liking you—he was in love with you. The idea of losing you, the girl he had uncontrollably and unintentionally fell in love with made him feel physically ill, bringing all his buried emotions to the surface. You sat on the edge of the couch as emotions flooded you once over, your face buried in your hands as you cried softly. The weight of everything that had happened between you two felt unbearable, like it was crushing you from the inside out. Jude stood up in front of you, his face loosing color and filled with a mixture of hurt and helplessness. He hadn’t said much since you admitted it—admitted that you’d slept with someone after you found out about him and the other girl. You hated it. Hated that you had hurt him, hated that you had hurt yourself in the process. But more than anything, you hated how much you still cared about him, how much you wanted him even now. “I don’t understand,” you choked out through your tears, your voice breaking. “I don’t understand why I like you so much, even after everything. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do.”

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft but strained. “It’s okay. I know you’re hurting.” Jude knelt down in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

“I don’t want to be hurting!” you snapped, the frustration boiling over. “I hate this. I hate that I like you so much, Jude. I hate that even when I try to move on, you’re all I think about. You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since I left here. Just you all fucking day. I’ve done nothing else.” You whined. Jude winced, clearly pained by your words, but he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t sure how he felt that you were so distraught over the idea of liking and thinking of him the way you were.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know it hurts. But you’re not alone. I feel the same.” He just stayed there, holding your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. You shook your head, the tears coming harder now.

“But you don’t. You don’t know how much it hurts. You slept with someone else, I slept with someone else… How are we supposed to come back from that?” You cried. Jude took a deep breath, his hands dropping to your shoulders, steadying you.

“Because none of that matters to me anymore. What matters is that you’re here, with me. And I don’t want you to leave.” Jude hummed, holding onto you firmly. He leaned forward resting his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath.

“What are you saying?” You blinked at him, your heart aching at his words. Jude knew he should tell you why. Tell you how he really felt but those words couldn’t come out.

“I’m saying… I need you,” Jude whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. You’re the only person who makes me feel like… like everything’s going to be okay. Even when it’s not.” He took another deep breath. Your chest tightened at his confession, and despite all the hurt, all the mistakes, a part of you wanted to believe him. A part of you needed to believe him. “Stay,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Stay in Madrid with me. With me tonight, whenever you want. Please. We’re both hurting, I know that. But you’re the only one who makes me feel better. Holding you is the only thing that’s going to make it better.” Jude thought he might start crying so he let his eyelids flutter close.

“What if it happens again, Jude? What if we hurt each other all over again?” You looked away, your heart racing, the fear creeping in.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I swear. I just… I just want you. I need you.” He shook his head, his grip on you tightening. You felt yourself breaking down, the tears flowing again as you leaned into him. Jude wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you as if he was afraid to let go.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered. You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his shirt.

“You can,” Jude murmured into your hair. “I know you can. I know we can.” You stayed like that, wrapped in each other, both of you hurting but unwilling to let go. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even close, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was that you were together. You didn’t know what the future held, or if you could ever truly move past the pain, but you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t ready to walk away. Not yet.

“I was so scared, Jude,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over again. “I didn’t want to fall for you because I knew this would happen. I knew I’d get hurt. I knew this would happen.” You pouted with a quivering bottom lip.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. Jude reached for you, pulling you into his arms, the tears soaking into his shirt. He held you close, his heart breaking as he felt just how deeply he had wounded you. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. But I want to make this right. I want you here, with me. I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered. You clung to him, the floodgates unable to close as you let out all the pain and fear you had been carrying. In that moment, in Jude’s arms, you felt a flicker of hope maybe you’d be able to rebuild what had been broken.

“I want to stay,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and hope. “But I’m scared, Jude. I’m too scared of getting hurt again. You really hurt me.” You cried.

“I know,” he said softly. Jude held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.” And for the first time since you fled Madrid, you let yourself believe that you could. You went to sleep in Jude’s room that night in an intense silence. The air was thick with tension, as if every unspoken word, every bottled emotion had made the room smaller, tighter, almost suffocating. You had come all this way to see if there was anything left to salvage between you and Jude, but now, lying next to him in bed, you weren’t sure. The silence between you was intense, almost unbearable, but the thought of letting go was more painful. His arms were wrapped around you, and you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began. You weren’t sure if it was humanly possible to be as close as you two were in his bed. Despite the space you tried to keep between your minds and hearts, your bodies refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t the same as before though. There were no whispered kisses or soft laughter. This wasn’t passion, it was desperation—an instinctual need to be close, to hold on to the only thing that felt familiar in a world that was quickly unraveling. You both stayed still for a long time, as if moving or speaking would shatter whatever fragile thing was keeping you together. The warmth of his chest against your back was the only thing grounding you, and yet it felt distant, too. Occasionally, you could feel him shift, his breath shaky, a small sniffle escaping him. In the quiet, you realized he was crying too, though he tried to hide it, just like you were. Tears silently streamed down your face, soaking into the pillow beneath you and you were pretty sure some of them would drip onto his arm. You didn’t even bother wiping them away. You weren’t sure if he could feel them, or if he already knew, but part of you hoped he did. Maybe it would save you the trouble of trying to explain the heartbreak clawing at your chest. Every breath felt heavy, every second drawn out, weighted by the regret hanging between you. The things you hadn’t said. The feelings you hadn’t admitted. The mistakes you both made that had led you here—together but impossibly apart. The words ‘I love you’ hovered unspoken in the room, almost too big to say aloud, but they screamed in your mind. If you said them now, would it fix things? Or would it make them worse? You weren’t sure. There were moments where you thought you felt Jude shift closer, as if he was trying to gather the courage to say something, but he never did. The silence remained, only occasionally broken by your mutual sniffles or the rustle of sheets. You wanted to scream, to shake him, to demand he say something, anything, but instead, you just lay there, clinging to him as if letting go would break you entirely. Hours passed, but sleep didn’t come. How could it, with so much between you that still needed to be said? The weight of it all pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think clearly. But even then, even through the pain and confusion, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but here, in this bed, with him. You didn’t know what the morning would bring—if you would still be holding each other or if the final goodbye was waiting on the other side of this silence—but for now, this was all you had. And even though it hurt, even though it felt like it might break you both, neither of you could let go.

That morning it was tense but Jude thought that if you flew here you must have craved the same thing he did. You wanted to close this distance. The morning air in Madrid was still cool, the early sun spilling into the room like a quiet reminder of everything left unsaid. You stood in the en-suite, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you brushed your teeth, staring blankly at your reflection. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from travel, or even the tension that clung to the air like a suffocating fog—it was everything. Every decision, every misstep, and most of all, the pain that weighed down your chest like a heavy stone. When you finished, you walked back into the bedroom, the tension palpable in the silence between you and Jude. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his phone, his jaw set in a way that told you he was thinking too hard about what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” Without looking up, he finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and almost too casual. It was an olive branch, awkward and uncertain, but it was something. You nodded, still feeling the weight of everything between you both as you glanced toward the balcony. The doors were open now, letting the morning breeze drift through. Jude had laid out breakfast on the small table outside—nothing too grand, just simple plates and chairs, but it was thoughtful. In that moment, despite everything, it was exactly what you needed.You stepped outside, the brightness of the Madrid sun almost blinding, and you gave Jude a sad smile. He followed, his movements slower, more deliberate, as if he was trying to figure out how to navigate the space between you. The small table sat between you both now, but it wasn’t the table or the breakfast that mattered—it was the unspoken words, the ghosts of last night, and the quiet ache that lingered in both of your hearts. You took a deep breath, the knot in your chest tightening as you realized you couldn’t dance around it any longer. You couldn’t pretend like it hadn’t happened, like you hadn’t both crossed a line you swore you wouldn’t. The words caught in your throat, but you forced them out, your voice soft and shaky.

“Jude,” you started, glancing down at the table before meeting his eyes. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done what I did, but all it’s done is made me realize—” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed forward. “There’s no one like you. No one.” The admission hung in the air between you both, heavy with meaning. Jude’s expression softened, but the pain was still there, written all over his face. He looked down at the table, then back at you, his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold something back.

“I feel the same,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “What I did… I regret it. I wish I could take it back. I thought… I thought it would make it easier to forget everything, to just push it away. But it didn’t. It just made everything worse. Because it’s you—there’s no one else that’s you.” The honesty in his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t wash away the hurt. The pain still lingered, heavy and raw, between you both. You nodded slowly, your throat tightening with the threat of tears, but you blinked them back. This wasn’t the time for tears. This was about trying to move forward, even if you didn’t know how. You looked at him, the sunlight casting soft shadows over his face, and you felt the weight of your heart in your chest.

“I think… I might be falling for you, Jude. And you don’t have to say anything back because this I know it’s probably stupid. It scares the hell out of me as well so….” You whispered. He didn’t move for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the right words, to make sure you really meant yours. Then, slowly, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch was tentative, but it was enough to ground you, to remind you that, despite everything, you were both still here.

“I’m falling for you too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” The pain still lingered, gnawing at the edges of your heart, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a small flicker of hope. You both sat there, in the bright Madrid sun, the weight of your mistakes still heavy, but the possibility of something more—something real—finally starting to take shape. You weren’t sure if you could fully move past what had happened, but in that moment, with Jude’s hand resting on yours, you knew you couldn’t walk away either. Not yet. Not when there was still so much left to say, so much left to feel. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, you had each other. And that, at least, was a start. Jude stood up from his chair, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of regret and something deeper, something more raw. Breakfast was forgotten in an instant, the food sitting untouched as he closed the small space between you. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice soft but commanding, and before you could even think, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. The warmth of his embrace was immediate, and despite everything that had happened, despite the pain, you melted into him. He swayed gently, the movement slow and comforting, as the Madrid sun drenched you both in its golden light. The air was thick with the scent of the morning and the faint sounds of the city below, but up here, in this moment, it was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. You had told yourself there wasn’t time for tears, that crying wouldn’t help anything—but the moment his arms wrapped around you, it all came crashing down. You couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears started to fall, first in quiet, controlled sobs, but soon, they were unstoppable. Your face pressed into his chest, your fingers clutching his shirt as if letting go wasn’t an option. Jude felt the shift, the way your body shook with the weight of your tears, and he tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m here… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating it, over and over, the words flowing out of him like a mantra, as if saying it enough times might somehow erase the pain. But it wasn’t just about the apology—it was the way he held you, the way he swayed with you in his arms, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, and he needed to keep you safe. Neither of you wanted to let go, neither of you could. The tears kept coming, your body trembling against him, but Jude didn’t move. He didn’t pull away, didn’t try to comfort you with empty words. He just held you, letting the weight of the moment sink in. You stayed like that for what felt like ages, swaying back and forth in the sunlight, the world around you fading into the background. Finally, your sobs began to quiet, though the tears still flowed. You buried your face deeper into his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear, grounding you in a way nothing else could. His hand stroked your back, slow and gentle, like he was trying to soothe the ache that had settled between you both. It wasn’t a moment of resolution, but it was something. A step. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you realized that despite everything, neither of you were ready to let go. Not of each other, not of the possibility of what you could still be. And for now, that was enough.

The atmosphere between you and Jude was tense at a bar. Despite the emotional reconciliation, Jude seemed to just move on after that. He was sweet to you of course but it kind of bothered you that he was acting as if everything was just as before. Just as before where Jude was primary, you were in secondary when it came to life in Madrid. Just as before where clarification about your relationship wasn’t needed. Jude could talk to the girls who wanted a photo but the second you took a step closer to lean over the bar towards the male bartender Jude’s eyes lit with fear and unfortunately a bit of possessiveness and annoyance. The feeling of your indiscretions still weighing on you both. The neon lights flickered outside, casting colorful shadows on the cobblestone streets of Madrid. Inside, the music was loud, the energy high, and the crowd lively—a perfect distraction from the lingering tension simmering between you. You didn’t like to be told what to do and even though it wasn’t being vocalized you were determined to prove a point tonight, that Jude couldn’t. Jude wasn’t the only one who could command attention, and you were tired of feeling like he was the one in control of this relationship. You’d now flown across the Atlantic Ocean for him twice now and yet there was still no clarification on what you were to him. If he wanted you to act like you were his, he’d have to tell you you were not just assume it. You knew people noticed you, but Jude had a way of overshadowing everything, making you feel like just another part of his world. Tonight, you wanted to remind him that you weren’t just an accessory on his arm. You were not like all those who had bowed down to him before. As you settled into a corner of the bar, Jude’s friend Aurelien had joined you, his usual easygoing charm on full display. Aurelien was one of the few people in Jude’s circle that you genuinely felt like you got on with and you knew he liked you. He was funny, handsome, smart, and—most importantly—he didn’t treat you like you were just Jude’s girl. You both spoke French, and tonight, you decided to use it to your advantage. The night had started innocently enough—but as the drinks flowed and inhibitions lowered. Flirting had always been second nature to you, and tonight was no exception.

“Salut, Aurel, ça fait longtemps,” [Hi, Aurel, it’s been a long time!] you said, your voice lilting as you slipped effortlessly into your shared language. You leaned in close to Aurelien, your lips curving into a playful smile as you greeted him in French.

“Ça va, YN? Toujours aussi belle,” [Are you okay, Y/N? Still so beautiful,] Aurelien replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he responded in kind. You exchanged pleasantries, your conversation light and easy, but with an undercurrent that was meant to get under Jude’s skin. And it worked. Jude watched you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to follow the rapid exchange. He didn’t know enough French to follow and the pace you and Aurelien were speaking at made it even harder to keep up. He didn’t like being left out. It felt deliberate, and it stoked the jealousy that had already been smoldering since the Instagram stories. You could feel Jude’s gaze on you, but you didn’t stop. You laughed at something Aurelien said, a light, airy sound that made Jude’s chest tighten. He knew what you were doing, and it drove him crazy. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—possessive, insecure, like he was the one who had to fight for your attention but he had been feeling it essentially since you met. It made him realize just how much he cared, how deeply he was already in. Seeing this in person made things brutally more painful than seeing it on his phone’s screen.

“Enough,” Jude said, his voice low and tense, leaving no room for argument. After a while, Jude wasn’t able to take it anymore. “We’re going home, yeah?.” He reached out, gently but firmly wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling your attention away from Aurelien.

“Already?” you asked, feigning innocence as you met his gaze. “But we’re having such a good time.” You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. You knew you had pushed him, but you hadn’t expected this reaction.

“Now, Y/N,” Jude insisted, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to make his point clear.

“Bonne nuit ma belle.” [Good night, beautiful.] Aurelien looked between you, sensing the tension. He offered you a sympathetic smile, but didn’t interfere. “Jude, hablaré contigo mañana.” [Jude, I'll talk to you tomorrow.] He gave you both a small wave before turning back to the bar. The car ride home was silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could feel the tension radiating off him, but you didn’t back down. You had wanted to make a point, and it seemed like it had worked. As soon as you were inside, Jude turned to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions— jealousy but most of all, desire. The second you both stumbled through the door, the click of the lock barely audible over the tension, Jude's hands were on you-possessive and insistent.

“Why do you have to do this angel? Why won’t you just be a good girl?” He demanded, his voice rough as he tried to keep his devious smirk at bay. You knew he was gaslighting you. God were you embarrassingly turned on though. The intensity in his words took you by surprise.

“You did it first.” You quipped trying to not cave too easily. You crossed your arms over your chest, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Why is it okay for people to fawn over you, but not for me?” you shot back. “You’re not the only one who can turn heads, Jude. I’m not just some accessory to your life.” You explained a bit more seriously than both you and Jude were expecting. He took a step closer, his worry now surpassing his lust.

“I know you’re not,” he said, his voice going soft with emotion. “But you’re mine, Y/N. I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I can’t stand the thought of it. Do you understand that? Not in Manhattan, not in Madrid, not anywhere in the world.” He explained to you, Jude's voice was low and dangerous. Suddenly as you glanced down and saw his pants beginning to tent and you smiled greedily. “Nah, if you wanted my cock so bad all you had to do was ask, angel. I'd fly anywhere in the world for this pussy.” Jude hand slowly came and gripped around your neck. At first it was gentle but then he squeezed taking your breath away. He gave you a smirk that made your pussy throb. His brown eyes smoldering with possessiveness. Jude's hands were on you-insistent. Jude wasted no time after that, pushing you against the door, his body caging you in. "You like to play with fire, don't you, baby?" he murmured, his warm breath fanning your neck. "Flirting with Aurelien right under my nose. You know no one turns you on the way I can though, isn’t that right?" He had you trapped you between the cool surface and the overwhelming heat of him. His lips found yours in a messy, hungry kiss, like he had been waiting all night for this moment, like every touch outside the door was just a tease for what was coming. Your head spun, not just from the alcohol, but from the intensity of his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn't get close enough. His kisses were fiery, desperate, as his lips trailed down your neck, igniting your skin wherever they touched. You gasped as his mouth grazed your collarbone, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, pulling him even closer. "You're just f’me," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know you’re just a whore for me.” His hands roamed your body with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping under the hem of your top. The friction between your bodies was electric, every movement charged with desire. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as his lips found yours again, more demanding this time, as though he couldn't stand the distance between you any longer. He had you pinned against the door, you could feel his need, his possessiveness, like he was marking you with every touch, every kiss. The world outside didn't exist anymore-just you and him, lost in each other.

"J-Jude, I didn't mean..." You melted into his hold, completely consumed by the heat of the moment, his touch searing into your skin like fire. You gasped as his hands moved to slid up your thigh, lifting your skirt. Your clothes were just disappearing second by second.

"Shh..." He silenced you with a finger on your lips. "You don't need to explain. I understand what you want, Y/N. You just wanted my attention." He patronized you in the hottest way and even though you knew you should hate him for it it had you desperate for him. His hands reached for the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. You trembled as he exposed your wetness, your body betraying your guilt. "You're so wet, baby. Do you know why?" Jude's voice was a low purr, his fingers teasing your sensitive folds.

"N-no," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire.

"Because you wanted my attention and now that you’ve got it, you’re excited for me to punish you for being a whore tonight. And you’re gonna love it because you only get to be like this f’me, hmm?" With that, he delivered a sharp smack to your exposed ass, making you cry out.

"Fuck! Jude, please..." You squirmed against the door, your body already responding to his dominance. You moved your hips towards him, his fingers dragging through your fold and then pushing deep inside you. One of his massive hands gripping your ass then the other taking his thumb sliding it from your entrance to your clit. The base of his fingers and knuckles were wet with your slick sliding in and out of you as he simultaneously began to make tight circles on your clit.

"Please what, angel?" He landed another spank as he multitasked, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin. "Do you like being punished for flirting with my friends? Does it make you wet knowing I'm the only one who can touch you like this?"

"Yeah, please... more..." You couldn't deny the pleasure his words and actions were eliciting. Your head fell back, exposing your neck. His lips quick to find your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips up against his hand as he moved his fingers in and out of you, his thumb still working your clit.

"That's my good girl. You know who you belong to. I'm going to remind you just how much you're mine. Remind you of the way only I can make you feel." Jude chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through your body. You felt his free hand roam over your body, claiming every inch of you. His fingers pinched your nipples through the lace of your bra, eliciting a moan from your lips. "That's it, let me hear your sweet voice," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me how much you want my cock." You knew your climax had been rapidly approaching and then he snatched it away. You gasped with a whine. Jude was in control tonight and he was making sure you knew that.

"I want it your cock, Jude, please!” You pleaded, your words fueled by the building desire. Your hand trailed down to the front of his boxers, cupping his length. He groaned into your mouth as you kissed him. You squeezed lightly, feeling the precum soaking through the thin material. His cock twitched under your hand as you rubbed him through his boxers. You slowly began to kiss down Jude’s body.

“Fuck baby. You want to be a good girl now? Show me you know you’re just f’me.” Jude asked you feeling your lips above the waistband of his boxers. Never in your life had you gotten turned on by a man taking control of you, claiming you and yet Jude had you dripping. You took his cock out and greedily licked your lips at the thick length and the vein running along the side of it. You took his cock into your hand and pumped it slowly as you locked eyes with Jude, letting some of your spit drop down into it. Slowly you licked the vein from base all the way up till you wrapped your lips around the tip. Jude’s hands immediately found their way to the back of your head, grabbing your hair tight. You moaned around his length. Jude inhaled as you took more of him until he hit the back of your throat, he bit his lip watching you bop up and down on his cock. “You love having my cock in your mouth, angel, huh? Look so sexy like this.” he groaned. You moaned and the hum vibrated through him. You took him deeper picking up the pace, minute after minute flying by. “Baby…you’re gonna make me cum like this.” Jude groaned as you let him fuck your face. “You don’t want me to cum in your mouth though do you? I think you like it when I cum somewhere else, that right?” Jude breathily got through his words. You nodded as he cupped your chin and pulled you off him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The sight of you with drool pooling in the corners of your mouth, tears on your lash line had him in a lustful haze. He roughly pulled you up and pressed his lips to yours.

"Please, fuck me. Remind me I’m yours." You begged him pulling away from the kiss. He wasted no time. He pulled his shirt over his head. Once his shirt was off, he picked you up, his hands sliding over the curve of your ass, down under it, and to the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground. He wrapped your legs around his waist, settling you there. He reached down and positioned himself at your entrance. Without direction you dragged Judes fingers up to your mouth taking two of them into your mouth. You moaned, wrapping your lips around his fingers as his length slowly filled you. He took his hand from your mouth both his hands palming your ass, pressing your back to the door in a fury.

"Oh my god, fuck.” you cried out as he entered you in one swift motion, filling you completely. Jude's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as he began to thrust.

“Mmm. That’s it. That’s the spot, huh?” He smugly smiled as he found your g spot in an instant. Your face scrunched, and jaw slacked with a nod confirming. “Feel so good, baby" He grunted, his breath ragged. "So tight and wet around my cock.” He groaned. Your body felt like it was on fire as you pushed your heel into his muscular back.

“Jude, I fucking love y… your cock.” You whined, almost catching yourself out as you bounced on his cock. You called out his name as he hit all the spots perfectly fit for him. The pace, the force, every stroke was everything you could ever want. You leaned in, your lips slamming into his again as he continued to pound into you.

“God, you love it like this, don’t you?” He growled moving his lips, kissing up your jaw to your ear before nippling on it, then grazing his teeth down your neck. Your pussy tightened around his cock. You were a mess as Jude guided your hips. You were barreling into an orgasm. Jude pushed you harder against the door letting one of his hands drop in between you two to find your clit. “That’s right. Cum f’me baby.” And with that your body convulsed as you came undone on Jude’s cock. The coil in your stomach snapped, the pressure sending Jude over the edge with you. Your orgasms hit you like waves, crashing over your bodies. Your nails dug into his muscular back as you rode the intense pleasure. Jude's grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he continued to thrust. Your bounces slowing down to a stop. His sweat-coated chest heaved as he lazily smiled at you with a look that you could describe as love.

"YN, I..." Jude's words turned into a growl as he emptied himself deep within you, his hot cum filling your core. As your bodies calmed, he pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss until he pulled away almost breathless. "I understand tonight…" he whispered against your mouth. Your bodies still buzzing from the intensity of it all. The air between you felt different—charged but also heavy with unspoken words. Jude looked down at you, his gaze soft but serious, the remnants of that fiery possessiveness from earlier still lingering in his eyes. His fingers traced gentle lines along your though, as though grounding himself in your presence. “But you know…” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’m not blind to it. I know how everyone looks at you.” You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes, sensing there was more he needed to say. He exhaled, his hand pausing on your skin. “You’re so… God, you’re the most gorgeous girl in Madrid. In Manhattan, too. I see it in their faces—my friends, strangers, people at clubs. They all see what I see. And I know…” His voice wavered for a moment, the vulnerability seeping through, “I know how coveted you are. I know what it must feel like for them, knowing I’m the one who gets to be with you.” You blinked, taken aback by the rawness in his words. He wasn’t just talking about your looks—there was something deeper there, something that made your heart ache in the best possible way. Jude leaned in closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “But it’s not just that I get to sleep with the hottest girl in Madrid or Manhattan,” he continued softly, “I don’t take for granted that I’m the one who gets to know you. Like really know you, behind the glass; your fears, your dreams, the way your mind works, the things that make you laugh. No one else knows you like that. And I’m so fucking lucky you let me be that guy.” His admission hung between you, raw and real, and you felt your chest tighten with emotion. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were his world, his everything. “I don’t take any of this for granted,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Not for a second and I’ll never stop being grateful for that.” You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as your fingers instinctively reached for his, intertwining them with yours. It wasn’t just about the jealousy or the possessiveness—it was about the way he saw you, understood you, and cherished you in a way no one else ever had. You smiled softly, your heart full, knowing that despite everything—the flirting, the teasing—it all came back to this: the two of you, here, together, holding onto something that felt too precious to let slip away.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me.” You smiled, a little breathless, as you realized the depth of your submission to this man. The night's events had transformed into a powerful reminder of the intense connection you shared, leaving you both satisfied and utterly spent. This was a little fun though, no, Jude?” You giggled. He nodded very matter of factly. You headed upstairs drunk off a little bit of tequila still lingering and very drunk off him. You were slightly mortified he just fucked you in the foyer but it was late. It was morning essentially and that made it all the more risky.

“It’s okay.” He whispered in your ear reassuring you as he walked behind you, his arms wrapped around you as you carried half of your clothes upstairs in your hands. “You just can’t help yourself. No one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me. You couldn’t wait.”He kissed your bare shoulder.

“Oh my god! Shut up honestly.” You groaned through a quiet giggle. “You came home and were all over me because you are the most jealous man I’ve ever met. I spoke french to Aurelien for 5 minutes and you came home and you just couldn’t help yourself because no one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me.” You quipped reciting his words back to him. He kissed your hair and then rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t wait.” You kissed your teeth.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You got me but let’s face it we’re very good at fucking. It’d be a shame to waste such talent, hmm?” He kissed behind your ear. You shook your head as you entered his bedroom. Jude turned you around to face him, his hands framing your face as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, jokes aside. I don’t want anyone else, and I don’t want you with anyone else, yeah?” Jude honestly told you. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his words. For so long, you had been afraid to let yourself fall, afraid of getting hurt, but now, hearing Jude’s confession, you felt your own walls start to crumble. You nodded terrified agreeing to this all over again.

The weeks that followed your decision to stay in Madrid were filled with a rare kind of bliss. You and Jude had found a rhythm that felt effortless, your days punctuated by moments of quiet intimacy and your nights by passion that left you both breathless. It was easy to forget the outside world when it was just the two of you, cocooned in your own little bubble. But the bubble had to burst eventually, and it did with the arrival of Trent and Whitney. Whitney and Trent arrived in Madrid with an energy of excitement, and Denise warmly welcomed them into the house. After a quick chat downstairs, Denise mentioned that Jude was upstairs in the shower, you probably just in the room, and sent them up to put their luggage away in one of the guest rooms. As Trent carried the bags up, Whitney trailed behind him, admiring the home decor. When they reached the guest room, Trent placed the suitcases down and stretched. He wandered over to the large window, taking in the view of the rolling Spanish hills. But something else quickly caught his attention. From his vantage point, Trent could see directly onto the balcony connected to Jude's bedroom-and there, completely unaware of their audience, were you and Jude. Jude's hands were gripping your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you. Kissing you deeply, the two of you lost in each other, the moment heated and intimate under the Spanish sun. The sound of music and the running shower from inside Jude's room clearly meant to mask the intensity of your connection from anyone nearby.

"Erm… Whit baby, this is one hell of a shower Jude is having." Trent blinked a few times, taken aback for a split second, and then burst out laughing. Barely able to contain himself, he waved her over. Whitney walked over, curious, and followed Trent's gaze.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, immediately reaching to cover Trent's eyes with a mix of shock and laughter. The second she saw what was happening, her eyes widened. "Don't look, T! Oh my God!"

"Hey, they're just... taking advantage of the view. It's their balcony." Trent just chuckled, shaking his head. Whitney, now laughing, peeked again and then sighed, still mortified but amused.

“Well, I guess that's why Y/N enjoys Madrid so much." She kept her hand over Trent's eyes, playfully scolding him, but neither could stop laughing. They both backed away from the window, sharing a knowing look. "Let's let them, uh... finish Jude's 'shower," Whitney said, still giggling. They left the guest room quietly, trying their best not to make any noise as they made their way back downstairs, barely able to contain their laughter at the unexpected scene they'd stumbled upon. Trent had a game against Atletico Madrid yesterday and Whitney decided to tag along and extend their stay. Both their visit and your reconciliation was the perfect excuse for a party. Jude’s sprawling villa in the hills outside Madrid ideal for the occasion—luxurious, private, and large enough to accommodate the guest list that had grown exponentially over the days leading up to the event. The night of the party, the house was transformed. Lights twinkled in the trees that lined the driveway, the pool was lit up in shades of blue, and music pulsed through the speakers around the expansive outdoor space. People had come in droves—teammates, moreover athletes in general, influencers, and socialites. The kind of crowd that made the party a must-attend event, even if you didn’t know the host personally. As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew more electric. The heat of the day had settled into a balmy evening, but the temperature inside the house was rising. Drinks were flowing, laughter echoed off the walls, and the music was loud enough to vibrate through the floors. It was the kind of party where everyone was vying for attention, where girls dressed to the nines tried to catch the eye of one of the many footballers in attendance. But Jude was oblivious to most of it. He stood off to the side, leaning against a column with a drink in hand, his eyes never straying far from you. You were talking with Whitney near the pool, your laugh carrying over the noise, and Jude felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. You were radiant tonight, your Ferragamo woven fringe mini dress perfectly draping off your body, your hair slicked back into a low bun exposing your bare back and patina Bottega drop earrings. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either—he had seen more than a few guys look your way, their eyes lingering a little too long for his liking.

“Hell of a party, mate,” Trent said, coming over, clapping Jude on the back and pulling him out of his reverie, a wide grin on his face as he surveyed the scene. “Who knew you had a knack for this. Give Whit a run for her money. Don’t tell her I said that though.” Trent laughed. Jude followed with a chuckle, but his gaze was still fixed on you.

“Yeah, it’s something. But I really just had Y/N sort it,” he replied, though his mind was elsewhere. The atmosphere was warm, though slightly chaotic. After the rocky week you’d had, being surrounded by friends seemed like the perfect distraction but you were proving to be a distraction for him right now.

“They know how to throw a party, they know how to dress for one as well, hmm?” Trent remarked, nodding toward you and Whitney. He followed Jude’s line of sight and smirked. “Can’t say I blame you for being so distracted, I’m in the same boat.”

“She’s so amazing, bro. I really like having her here” he said, his tone more serious than he intended. “A lot more than I ever thought I would.” Jude tore his eyes away from you long enough to give Trent a look. Trent raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press.

“Yeah, mate, course,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Just don’t let her catch you brooding in the corner all night. Girls like her don’t like that.” Trent joked. He wasn’t really even sure what he meant but the sentiment stood. Jude didn’t need the reminder. He knew exactly how rare you were, and the thought of losing you—even in the smallest way—was enough to make him feel uneasy. But he wasn’t about to let his jealousy ruin the night, not when things had been so good between you. As if sensing his thoughts, you looked over at him, your eyes meeting his across the crowd. You gave him a smile, the kind that made his heart skip a beat, and excused yourself from Whitney to make your way over to him. Jude straightened up as you approached, his earlier tension melting away in your presence.

“Who knew the host was so handsome.” You giggled. “Enjoying the party?” you asked, your voice soft as you reached him, your hand lightly brushing against his arm.

“Not as much as I’m enjoying looking at you,” Jude replied, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re the most beautiful thing here, you know that?”

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” you teased, though the compliment had clearly flustered you. You blushed, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, his hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer to him. Jude’s smile widened. For a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background, and it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. Jude could feel the familiar pull between you, the magnetic connection that made it impossible to stay away from you for long. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that had gotten so deep under his skin, but he knew he didn’t want it to end. “I’m glad you stayed, angel” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. “Thank you so much for coming back.” He sadly smiled.

“I’m glad I stayed too,” you replied, your hand coming up to rest on his chest. “And just so you know, you’re the only one I’m interested in tonight.” You looked up at him, your expression softening under his gaze. Jude felt a surge of relief at your words, the last remnants of his earlier jealousy fading away.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Because you’re the only one I want.” He whispered and your heart fluttered. Jude’s house was alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and clinking glasses. Both of you dancing around the fragile reconciliation you both had recently achieved. But, despite the fun, the air held a lingering tension. The party was filled with faces you didn’t recognize, girls who clearly had no idea Jude was seeing anyone.

"Where’s Jude at?" One girl leaned in closer to ask Toby. As the evening progressed, a group of girls gathered near him, drinks in hand, casually glancing around the room.

"He’s with his missus." Without hesitation, Toby, always quick with a response, looked up from his drink, scanning the room.

"Wait, Jude Bellingham is seeing someone?" one of them asked, almost incredulously. “The Jude Bellingham?” The girl almost choked. The girls exchanged surprised glances, clearly caught off guard by the revelation. Toby nodded, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you and Jude. You’d retreated to the corner of Jude’s living room, away from the crowd. You were curled up together on a sofa now, Jude’s arm draped casually yet protectively around your shoulders, both of you wrapped up in quiet conversation. The soft glow of the lights made the scene look almost too intimate for the party’s bustling energy. From across the room, you caught the subtle shift in attention and noticed the group of girls whispering while throwing glances in your direction. Toby’s gaze followed, a smirk playing at his lips as if he knew something they didn’t.

"Maybe we should sit up or, I don’t know, tone it down? People are staring," you whispered, your voice laced with hesitation. Feeling the weight of the eyes on you, you shifted uncomfortably and turned to Jude. But Jude, caught up in the comfort of having you close, shook his head and tightened his grip on you.

“Let them look,” he said casually, brushing a kiss against your temple. "I don’t care what anyone thinks. All I care about is you." You tried to protest again, your self-consciousness rising, but Jude silenced you with a smile that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t hiding you, and for once, you weren’t a secret. Toby, seeing the whole scene unfold, raised his drink in a silent toast from across the room, acknowledging the quiet but significant shift in Jude but there was something almost taunting about it. It wasn’t just about you anymore—it was about you both, together. And whether or not the girls liked it, Jude wasn’t about to let you go and you were trying to read just what Toby thought about that.

As the night wore on, the party continued to buzz around you, the laughter and chatter of the guests creating a lively backdrop to the quieter, more intimate moments Jude and you were sharing. You hadn’t moved in hours. The couch you settled on was plush and inviting, a perfect spot to unwind and steal a few moments for yourselves.You nestled into Jude’s side, your head resting on his chest as he draped an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of his body against your was comforting, grounding you in the midst of the chaos that swirled around you. You were close enough to the action to still feel a part of it, but far enough away that you could have a conversation without having to shout over the noise. You just sat there, content in each other’s presence. Jude absentmindedly played with a tassel of your dress twirling it around his finger as he looked down at you. There was something so peaceful about moments like this—when it was just the two of you, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. After a while, Jude broke the comfortable silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft but carrying an undertone of seriousness, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.” He cooed.

“What about us?” you asked, your voice gentle as you studied his expression. You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes curious. Jude paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. Embarrassingly you were hoping he’d give you some sort of label.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “You’re… different. You’re like a piece of art—one of those masterpieces that people spend their whole lives searching for. And somehow, I got lucky enough to find you.” Jude’s expression was serious.

“That’s quite the compliment,” you said, your voice touched with amusement. “You’re saying I belong in a museum?” You felt your heart swell at his words, a soft teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Not a museum,” he corrected, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. Jude chuckled, shaking his head. “You belong in a private collection, where only the right person can fully appreciate you. You’re not just beautiful, Y/N. You’re one of a kind.” he mused.

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you murmured, though his words had clearly touched you. Your smile widened, but there was a hint of shyness in your eyes. It wasn’t a label but this was a sweet conversation.

“No, I’m not,” Jude insisted, his voice firm but tender. “I mean it. There’s something about you… something I can’t quite put into words. It’s like you’ve got all these layers, and every time I think I’ve figured you out, there’s something new. Like those paintings that reveal something different every time you look at them.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable. “But you know, I’ve always thought of you as more of a sculpture. Strong, defined… but there’s a softness to you that people don’t see unless they get close enough.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. Jude’s expression softened at your words, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder.

“I like that,” he said quietly. “I like that you see me that way. But I think you’re the first one to get that close to me, Y/N. You’re the artist or maybe the gallerist I guess who brings me to life.” He smiled. You felt a lump form in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. You had always been careful with your heart, afraid of letting anyone get too close, but with Jude, it was different. He saw you in a way no one else did, and that scared you as much as it thrilled you.

“You’re important to me, Jude,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “More than I ever expected. Sometimes I feel like I’m still figuring out what this is… what we are. But I know one thing for sure—I don’t want to lose you.” Jude’s grip on your tightened slightly, as if he were afraid you might slip away.

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I want to be here, with you, angel, for as long as you’ll have me, as long as you want to stay.” He gently cooed. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a silent acknowledgment of everything you were feeling but couldn’t quite say. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you let yourself savor the moment.

“Stay with me tonight,” Jude whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Just like this. I don’t care about the party or anyone else here. I just want you.” He cooed.

“I’m not going anywhere, Judey.” You nodded with a smirk, your voice catching as you replied. As you stayed there with him, Jude felt fear wash over him. Just how smitten he was was ringing every alarm bell. He could feel it and although with you in his arms settling his racing heart he began to panic watching his other world spin around him and you creating a whole new one for him that just didn’t seem to be able to merge. You stayed curled up in Jude’s arms for what felt like hours, the world outside your little bubble fading away as the party continued to swirl around you. The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all became background noise to the comforting rhythm of Jude’s heartbeat under your ear. You could have stayed like that forever, letting the warmth of his body seep into you, but eventually, the effects of the wine and the hours of sitting began to catch up with you.

“I think I drank a little too much,” you murmured, your voice a mix of amusement and self-awareness as you glanced up at him. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way the room tilted ever so slightly as you moved.

“Yeah? You’ve had a long day, angel” he said gently, brushing a stray lock of fallen hair behind your ear. “Why don’t you go up to my bed? I’ll be up in a bit.” Jude’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice laced with reluctance. You hesitated, not wanting to leave the safety of his embrace, but the warmth of the alcohol and the late hour were making you drowsy.

“Positive,” Jude replied, his tone taking on a more playful edge as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “And angel… make sure you’re ready for me when I get there.” He whispered. The suggestion in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you pulled yourself away from him and stood up, feeling slightly unsteady on your feet. Jude watched you go, his eyes following you as you made your way through the crowded room. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched your retreating figure. How could he miss someone who was still within his line of sight? The feeling was so foreign, so intense, that it almost overwhelmed him. He had never felt this way about anyone before—so completely taken, so utterly captivated. As soon as you disappeared from view, the atmosphere of the party seemed to rush back at him all at once. Like the crack of thunder. The noise, the lights, the people—it was a jarring contrast to the quiet intimacy he had just shared with you. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the realization of how deeply you had gotten under his skin left him reeling. Before he could process his thoughts, he felt a heavy hand clap down on his shoulder. Jude turned to see Toby grinning at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Mate,” Toby said, his voice tinged with amusement, “you’re down so bad. Oh my days.” He laughed.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jude gave a half-hearted chuckle, shrugging off the comment even as it hit closer to home than he would have liked.

“Don’t be daft” Toby continued, his grin widening. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You’re a complete melt, bro. I never thought I’d see the day.” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “She’s just… different.” Jude rolled his eyes, trying to brush off the teasing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling Toby’s words had stirred up inside him. Jude felt everything slipping as he was being called out. He felt out of control and he needed to get back to being Jude.

“Different? You mean she’s got you tied in knots, mate. Don’t tell me you’re getting serious about this girl. What are you doing, bro?” Toby raised his eyebrow once more, clearly unconvinced. Jude hesitated, his mind racing. He didn’t want to admit it—to himself or to anyone else—but Toby was right. He was serious about you, more serious than he had ever been about anyone. And that scared the hell out of him.

“Nah, you’re just seeing things,” he said, clapping Toby on the back. “I’m still the same lad I’ve always been.” Not wanting to dwell on the uncomfortable truth, Jude forced a grin and tried to play it off.

“Sure, Jude. Whatever you say.” Toby snorted, clearly not buying it. “But don’t let her keep you on a leash. There’s plenty of fun to be had in Madrid, where she doesn’t live, and here tonight, if you know what I mean.” Toby nodded toward a group of girls nearby, one of whom had been eyeing Jude all night. She was pretty, with a bright smile and a confident air about her. A year ago, Jude wouldn’t have thought twice about going over to talk to her. But now… now all he could think about was you upstairs, waiting for him. But there was a part of him—small but persistent—that didn’t want to let himself be so caught up in one person. He didn’t want to be the guy who got too serious, who lost his edge. He didn’t want to be the guy who let a girl tie him down, who let himself get hurt.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, though the words felt wrong on his tongue. “Gonna go see what’s out there. Nothing’s changed here.” In a moment of defiance—against Toby’s teasing, against the feelings he couldn’t quite understand—Jude made a decision. He gave Toby a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Toby laughed, clearly pleased with himself, and gave Jude an encouraging shove in the direction of the girl. Jude hesitated for a split second, his heart tugging him in the opposite direction, but then he pushed it down. He wouldn’t let himself get too deep, too invested. Not yet. With that thought in mind, Jude walked over to the girl, putting on his most charming smile, but even as he made small talk, his mind was elsewhere—on the girl who was waiting for him upstairs, the girl who had somehow managed to make him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel.

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 8 - Last Night xx

[nayziiz]

Bridges | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (you)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Navigating a relationship fraught with distance and conflicting schedules can feel like traversing a rocky terrain, where every step forward is met with an unpredictable stumble. For you and Carlos, the challenges seem insurmountable at times. His perpetual travels, fueled by professional commitments or personal adventures, create chasms of physical separation that no amount of digital connection can bridge. Your own demanding job adds another layer of complexity, leaving scant pockets of time for meaningful interaction.

In this dynamic, the moments of togetherness become precious, almost elusive treasures hidden amidst the hustle and bustle of life. Video calls, once envisioned as lifelines, are reduced to fleeting encounters, struggling to capture the essence of your bond in pixels and sound waves. The warmth of his embrace, the sound of his laughter, the nuances of his expressions—these are distilled into fragmented pixels on a screen, a pale reflection of the real connection you crave.

The minimal time spent together often ended in arguments, particularly about your job. It wasn’t that you couldn’t work remotely—because you could—but rather, it was a matter of principle; sacrificing everything to please a man didn’t sit well with you. Carlos, to his credit, respected your career and never explicitly demanded such sacrifices, but the thought lingered, occasionally slipping out during heated debates. In those moments, you'd shut down, refusing to speak to him for days before mustering the strength to be civil again. You couldn’t help but wonder why he couldn’t consider giving up his job if it were so easy.

The aftermath of Carlos's slip of the tongue left a bitter taste in your mouth, a cocktail of resentment and hurt that soured the air between you. The weight of his words hung heavy in the silence that enveloped your shared space, casting a shadow over the once-intimate moments you cherished. The resentment festered, morphing into a simmering disdain that threatened to consume any remnants of affection.

Sleeping in the spare bedroom became an act of self-preservation, a physical manifestation of the emotional distance you felt compelled to maintain. Meals were solitary affairs, punctuated by the hollow echo of his absence and the gnawing ache of unresolved conflict. You sought refuge in the sanctuary of your bedroom, retreating behind closed doors as a shield against the pain that lingered in the spaces between you.

In hindsight, you couldn't help but question the pettiness of your actions. Was it fair to punish him with your silent reproach, denying him the opportunity to apologise and seek reconciliation? Perhaps not, but in the throes of hurt and indignation, rationality often takes a backseat to raw emotion. The desire for acknowledgment, for validation of your pain, outweighed any semblance of reason.

For Carlos, the silence was deafening, a constant reminder of his transgression and the widening chasm between you. He longed for the chance to express his regret, to extend an olive branch in the hopes of mending the fractured bond. Yet, each attempt was met with a wall of icy silence, leaving him stranded on the shores of remorse with no path to redemption.

In the end, both of you found yourselves trapped in a cycle of resentment and regret, each harbouring grievances left unspoken in the name of pride and stubbornness. The space between you grew wider with each passing day, a gaping void that threatened to swallow any hope of reconciliation. And as the silence stretched on, the echoes of unsaid apologies reverberated in the emptiness, a haunting reminder of the love that lay buried beneath the rubble of unresolved conflict.

Recognizing the toxicity of the situation, you came to the sobering realisation that the only path forward was to bring closure to the tumultuous chapter of your relationship. Amid the tangled web of hurt feelings and unresolved conflicts, the prospect of an amicable parting seemed like a distant beacon of hope, offering a glimmer of light in the darkness of uncertainty.

It was a decision fraught with emotion, tinged with a bittersweet mixture of sadness and relief. Ending things meant confronting the painful truth that the love you once shared had morphed into something unrecognisable, weighed down by the burden of unspoken grievances and unmet expectations. Yet, it also offered the promise of liberation, a chance to reclaim agency over your own happiness and well-being.

As you walked side by side along the familiar path to the nearby park, the weight of the impending conversation hung heavy in the air, casting a palpable tension over the otherwise serene atmosphere. The chirping of birds and rustling of leaves provided a backdrop to the silence that stretched between you, punctuated only by sporadic attempts at small talk that faltered and died as quickly as they began.

Each step felt like a journey into the unknown, a hesitant march towards a destination fraught with uncertainty and apprehension. You stole glances at Carlos, noting the furrow of his brow and the downturn of his lips, a reflection of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

As you walked together, the weight of the impending conversation still heavy on your mind, Carlos's sudden shift in focus caught you off guard. Following his gaze, you spotted the source of his attention—a young boy, no older than six, standing alone with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Without hesitation, Carlos reached for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, as he guided you towards the distraught child. There was a sense of urgency in his movements, a silent determination to offer comfort and assistance to someone in need.

As you approached, the boy's cries grew louder, echoing through the quiet surroundings of the park. His eyes widened in surprise as Carlos knelt down beside him, his voice gentle and soothing as he offered words of reassurance.

“Hey there, buddy. What's wrong? Are you lost?” Carlos's voice was calm and steady, a beacon of comfort amidst the storm of the boy's emotions. The boy sniffled, wiping tears from his cheeks as he nodded hesitantly.

“I-I can't find my mom,” he whimpered, his bottom lip quivering with fear.

“It's okay, we're going to help you find her, alright? What's your name?” Carlos's expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy as he reached out to gently pat the boy's shoulder. 

The boy sniffled again, his tears beginning to abate as he whispered, “Nicolas.”

you couldn't help but instinctively pull him closer, enveloping him in a protective embrace as you offered what comfort you could. His small frame felt fragile against your side, a poignant reminder of the vulnerability of youth and the universal need for reassurance in times of distress.

Swallowing hard against the lump that threatened to rise in your throat, you fought to maintain a façade of composure, knowing that your own tears would offer little solace to the frightened child in your arms. Instead, you focused on projecting an aura of calm and reassurance, drawing strength from the warmth of Carlos's presence by your side.

Turning to him, you met his gaze, finding in his eyes a reflection of your own concern and worry. Yet, beneath the surface, there was also a shared determination—a silent pact to weather whatever storm lay ahead, together.

“We'll find his mom, Carlos,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sought to reassure both the boy and yourself. “We won't stop until we do.”

Carlos nodded, his expression a mixture of resolve and compassion as he reached out to gently squeeze your hand.

“We'll do whatever it takes,” he replied, his voice steady despite the hint of emotion that lingered in his tone.

“What does your mom look like? Can you remember what she was wearing?” you asked the young boy.

As Nicolas described his mother's appearance, you listened intently, committing every detail to memory as you scanned the park for any sign of a woman matching his description. Carlos, ever vigilant, was already casting his gaze across the sprawling expanse of greenery, searching for the telltale hint of pink amidst the sea of foliage and fellow park-goers.

Your heart raced with each passing moment, the urgency of the situation driving you forward as you navigated the maze of pathways and shaded groves. Every rustle of leaves, every flash of colour, sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through your veins, heightening your senses as you strained to catch a glimpse of Nicolas's missing mother.

Minutes stretched into eternity as you combed through the park, your determination unwavering despite the mounting sense of unease that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

As you lifted Nicolas into your arms, feeling the weight of his small frame against your chest, a surge of maternal instinct washed over you, driving you forward with a sense of purpose and determination. His tear-streaked face nestled against your shoulder, his sobs muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and in that moment, you knew that you would do whatever it took to offer him comfort and reassurance.

Caught up in the whirlwind of emotion, you barely noticed Carlos's approach until he was by your side, his eyes soft with concern and tenderness as he reached out to gently take Nicolas from your arms. His touch was gentle yet firm, his arms cradling the boy with a sense of ease that spoke volumes of his natural empathy and compassion.

“He's too heavy for you to keep carrying,” Carlos remarked, his voice gentle yet firm as he adjusted his grip on Nicolas, offering him a reassuring smile. “Let me take him for a while.”

Reluctantly, you relinquished your hold on Nicolas, watching with a mixture of awe and admiration as Carlos effortlessly carried the boy in his arms. The resentment and anger that had simmered between you for weeks seemed to evaporate in an instant, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude and love.

As you watched Carlos interact with Nicolas, his face alight with warmth and kindness, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride welling up within you. Here was a man who had faced his own struggles and shortcomings, yet had risen above them with grace and compassion. In that moment, any doubts or misgivings you had harboured seemed trivial in comparison to the depth of love and admiration you felt for him.

And then, just as doubt began to creep in, a flash of pink caught your eye—a figure emerging from behind a cluster of trees, her black hair glinting in the sunlight as she approached.

“There she is!” Nicolas exclaimed, his voice tinged with relief as he pointed towards the approaching figure.

You followed his gaze, your heart soaring with gratitude and relief as you spotted the woman, her pink shirt unmistakable amidst the verdant backdrop of the park. With a sense of urgency, you guided Nicolas towards her, Carlos at your side as you closed the distance between yourselves and the reunited pair.

As Nicolas's mother enveloped him in a tight embrace, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion welling up within you. The tension that had gripped your chest began to ebb away, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude and relief as you witnessed the joy of their reunion.

“You've been so kind,” Nicolas’s mother murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Of course,” Carlos replied, his voice soft yet resolute as he met Nicolas's mother's gaze with a reassuring smile. “We're just glad we could help.”

Carlos’s eyes reflected the warmth and sincerity of her words. With a nod of acknowledgment, he tightened his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close in a gesture of solidarity and support.

Feeling his embrace, you couldn't help but return the gesture, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him closer with a sense of gratitude and affection. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the park and the gentle hum of evening, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment wash over you, enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

Turning back to Carlos, you met his gaze with a soft smile, a silent acknowledgment of the strength and compassion that had drawn you to him in the first place.

“I can't be without you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a breath as you voiced the depth of your need.

As the words tumbled from your lips, carried on a whisper of vulnerability and longing, you felt the weight of their truth settle heavily in the space between you. In response, Carlos's expression softened, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of your words as he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands.

“Me either, my love,” he murmured, his voice a tender echo of your own sentiments as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of emotion coursing through you, reaffirming the depth of the bond that bound you together. Yet, even as you revelled in the comfort of his embrace, a nagging sense of unease lingered in the recesses of your mind—an unspoken acknowledgment of the challenges that lay ahead.

“I don't know how, but we need to fix this,” you added, your voice tinged with determination as you met Carlos's gaze with a steadfast resolve.

The words hung heavy in the air, a solemn vow to confront the obstacles that threatened to tear you apart and find a path forward, together. Carlos nodded, his grip on your body tightening ever so slightly as he met your gaze with a fierce determination of his own.

“No matter what it takes, we'll find a way to make this work,” he replied, his voice infused with unwavering conviction. 

In that moment, as you stood locked in each other's gaze, you knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and uncertainty. Yet, with love as your guiding light and determination as your compass, you were ready to face whatever obstacles lay in your path, hand in hand, united in purpose and resolve.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jake Kim x Reader: Cinema

G/N. Soft and fluffy feat Big Deal a lil.

 "You on a date, boss?"

Jake says yes without missing a beat, flashing you a grin and snaking his arm around your waist.

He sees the smirk on Jason's face, the light nudge Lineman gives Brad, and the pride and approval on Jerry's face.

The grin soon melts away though, when Brad follows up with "You going to see Rocky XX too?" and Jake only just manages to hide his grimace.

The answer to that is also yes. But he would prefer to not have a date crashed by the rest of the crew.

Heavens above, you're patient enough with Big Deal and so sweet to everyone. Gotten to know the street and the occupants like the back of your hand, spending more evenings and weekends there than not. 

However. Even with how much Jake lives and breathes Big Deal, he misses some one on one time with you.

Away from everyone, he thinks as he takes in the sight of his boys in front of him. He can't exactly tell them to go away though, can he? A rare weekend off work where they get to just be.

He succumbs to his fate. 

Imagines everyone huddled on the one row together. Seated next to each other. Cosy. A family affair instead of a romantic date. Probably won't be able to sneak you some kisses here and there-

"We're not seeing Rocky!" comes the unmistakable sound of Lua's voice. "We're going to watch The Boy and The Pigeon! Enjoy your film!"

She disappears as quickly as she arrives. A whirlwind of hair and a force of nature. Giving you both a small wave, mind laser focused on reading the goddamn room and shoving the boys towards a different screen.

"B-but we already got the tickets!"

"I wanted to see Rocky XX!"

"Why does Jake think seeing Rocky is romantic anyway?!"

Why?

To be honest, the Rocky franchise died off somewhere along V. Who knows how the hell these films are still being greenlit. Nevertheless, the newest one is a low stakes film where Jake doesn't care what happens apart from you cuddling up to him and some kisses if he's lucky.

It's calculated and planned and Jake mentally pats himself on the back for how things have turned out.

Except-

What he didn't expect was the score to be good, the script to be great, the choreography to be amazing, and the acting to be even better. Neither of you could take your eyes off the screen. You laughed and cried and gasped together. 

Thoughts of cuddling and kissing and even making out completely out the window as you're both on the edge of your seat for the entire two hours.

It was fantastic. Perhaps the best movie he has ever seen (and he could practice some of those moves too).

You're both still talking about it as he walks you home-

"When he came back as a zombie to fight that vampire?"

"And the lizard joins the fight to win the title?" Jake chuckles, at your enthusiasm more than anything else, "Yeah. I liked that."

But as your apartment appears on the horizon, he can't help but think that maybe this was a bit of a waste. That the day is over and as good as the film was, maybe he should have arranged something else, after all it’s been a while since both your schedules have aligned.  A date where you can actually talk and be in each other's company. Instead of being captivated by the screen, your attention could have been held by him.

Jake tries to shake off the doubts and recapture the lighter mood from seconds ago.

He's not entirely successful.

You realise something is amiss.

You peer over at your boyfriend. His sudden subduedness. The small line forming between his eyebrows that you hate so much, because it means he's unhappy about something. You pause mid step and he stops alongside you.

"Don’t overthink it. I had fun," you tell him. You always have fun with him. "Thank you."

Jake's smile returns when he sees the expectant look in your eyes. The way you stretch up towards him. press yourself into his space, and he leans down; meeting you halfway.

Your lips lightly press to his, eyes closing, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and his own falling shut. Strong arms encircle you, pulling you ever closer, deepening the contact.

There'll be a next time, your kiss reassures him.

You tastes like popcorn. Sugar and butter and salt. Sweet and savoury and perfect.

[hellishjoel]

burning desire

10.3k // pairing:dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

summary: An argument with your mother before family dinner leaves Joel worried about you. He sneaks you away to grab a drink and talk about what’s on your mind. 

warnings: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, dbf/neighbor!joel, soft-hot-protective!joel, rocky mother-daughter relationship (this one ain't for the weak - mommy issues galore) & discussions of verbal fighting, slight clues of abandonment issues, smut, swearing, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel in his 40s), pet names, praise!kink activated, unprotected p in v (yes finally, the edging is over), mentions of birth control,  slight cockwarming if you squint, slight degradation kink

A/N: I crave three things after writing this chapter: Joel, Joel Miller, Joel fucking Miller. Also, I’m almost done with The Last of Us Part 1 :(( sad that it’s ending, but it’s been so much fun to play! Enjoy this chapter <3 

Your parents make good on their invitation and ask Joel over for dinner. A steak dinner, to be exact. Paired with wine, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a pie your parents picked up from the local bakery in town. 

You sort of hope Joel pulls out his long list of excuses to evade any awkwardness. 

Sorry, can’t tonight. I’m finishin’ up somethin’ for work. Can’t wait another day. 

Or,

Hey, maybe another night. Not feelin’ too hot. 

When in reality, it’s more like, 

I can’t come over for dinner tonight because I might bend your daughter over my truck if I see her again. 

As active as you and Joel have been, you have yet to hit a home run in lewd baseball terms. In fact, all the bases in your and Joel’s game were totally screwed up. You hit third base before you hit first, and you weren’t even sure if there was a second base. It was all just so confusing now. 

But you wanted the home run, you wanted Joel, you desired him in that light. You wondered if he was ready for it. 

Screwed over by your father asking Joel over for dinner and screwed over by Joel agreeing, you had no other choice but to sit through it and act like everything was normal. 

And everything was normal for the first half of the day before you and your mother got into it. 

The argument was recycled. You wished she would come up with better material. But it always came down to what you wanted to do after this summer since you recently graduated. And that was an ongoing war. 

After two door slams, your mother retreating to her bunker, and you finding shelter in the bathroom, you’d say today’s battle was over. 

You sit on the floor, bare feet touching cold tile. In a way, it soothes your shaky body. 

No matter how old you get, this feeling never seems to waver with its intensity. The feeling that no one’s listening, no matter how hard you scream for them to hear you. Regardless of how often you have these conversations, you become a small child again, being scolded and told that what you thought and wanted wasn’t right. 

You managed to collect your journal expertly hidden in your bedroom before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom. You flip open the pages with teary eyes. 

You wish you didn’t have to admit that this was your safe space. On the bathroom floor, back flushed against the dark wood door as you closed your eyes and tried to calm your breathing. 

June 17th  2:28 P.M. 

Mom started a fight with me about not traveling again. She says it’s crucial for me to start my career immediately. I don’t even know what I want to be yet. 

You have to pause to blink back tears. You wish you had your life figured out like it felt everyone else did. 

Why does she have to care so much that I want to leave for a little bit? It’s not like it’s forever. There’s so much more out there. I’ve studied miscellaneous classes for four years and want a break. Why do we always have to have this conversation over and over again? She always asks how I will take care of student loans and bills. I have repeatedly told her that I’ve been saving up for a while to do this. She keeps saying she wants what’s best for me and doesn’t want me to start my career too late. She says it’s hard to let me go.

I love her, and I appreciate her support through school, but school is what taught me about independence as well as academics. I want to live my life and have experiences you can only get by leaving home for a little bit. Maybe then I’ll better understand what I want for my future. 

Your writing pauses, and you stare straight ahead at the beige wall, blurry eyes reading another cheesy sign. Bathroom - Open 24 Hours - Seat Yourself. 

You decide to spare a moment of your mother’s casualties and pencil in something else that’s been recently stirring. 

I’ve been seeing Joel Miller casually since the start of this summer. I can’t believe I’m even writing this. It’s weird -- but in a way, it’s also not? He’s older by like a mile, but he’s familiar, comfortable. Easy to talk to. It doesn’t feel like he’s judging me. I’m not trying to read too much into it, but this summer sucks less because of Joel. Whether he knows it or not. 

---

You and your mother work around each other while setting up dinner in the backyard garden. She steps back inside to grab more wine glasses. 

You’ve put on a nice summer dress. The hem lands somewhere on your thighs and flows with the breeze. After sobbing on the cold bathroom tile for an hour, you don't feel very pretty, but eating outside and soaking up some fresh air might make you feel better.

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

Joel Miller was the largest, broadest, lumberjack-est man you had ever met, but he moved as quietly as a mouse. Your eyes blink a few times as you haphazardly set down the bowl of mashed potatoes on the circular table. 

“Hi.”

Your voice is raw and red, softer than usual. Joel seems to instantly take notice. You see it in the way his eyes soften. He moves a little closer, hands resting on the back of one of the white outdoor dining chairs. 

Your face probably reads more panicky than intended. He picks up on your faulty mood and assumes the worst. 

“Do they.. Do they know?” He asks, eyebrows knitted with a deep furrow in between. 

Your eyes go doe-ish, shaking your head and occupying your hands with a spare cloth napkin.

“What? No. Why would you think that?” 

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. He takes one long look over your being and you feel it in the space between you. 

Somethin’s wrong. 

Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, Joel. 

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing on you more. 

Suddenly, you felt exposed. Like someone had ripped the curtain open on you. No one had ever seen right through you like this before. It was unsettling, but god, you just wanted to lean right into it. 

If your parents weren’t just inside, you’d walk right into his front and curl your head in his chest just under the hook of his chin. You’d close your eyes and wrap your small arms around his waist. 

He’d encircle you in his big, protective arms and shield you from the pain you’ve felt today. You’d listen to his heart thrumming against his chest, using the rhythm to try and slow down your breathing while he whispers to you in his sweet southern drawl.

S’alright, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be okay. I see you tryin’. 

His eyes flitter into light again, ease passing across his features. 

“Like the dress.” He looks over you with a condescending little smirk. This man has never seen you in a dress in your life. 

“Shut up. It’s just for dinner.”

He lets out a cocky little tut. “‘Cause you knew I was comin’ over?”

When you look up at him again, his hand gently rests over yours. You don’t have time to appreciate it; the sliding back door opens, and your father’s big booming laughter shakes the nearby lake. Joel’s subtle touch is instantly gone. 

“Joel! So good to see you! Hey, great bonfire a few weeks ago.”

You take a deep breath and excuse yourself from the shop talk. You don’t want to be alone with your mother in the house, but the table still needs to be set up. You work around each other in silence. She grabs the salad, you grab the dinner rolls and green beans. You could hear a pin drop. 

---

Dinner would have been better if you had an appetite. You spent the majority of your time making a tilled farm field out of your mashed potatoes. You’d flatten out your helping with a fork and then gently run the fork’s ribs through the moldable potatoes and create little crop lines out of it. You don’t always play with your food, but you weren’t really up for conversation. Your mother takes notice. She hates it. She hates that you were letting your personal problems exist in the company of others. 

The only time you looked up even slightly was when Joel started talking. Sort of a calm in an unknown storm, you suppose. He looked so handsome without even really trying. You wore a crooked smile as you looked over the dark green button-up he was wearing. It was starting to be your favorite color, he wore it so well. 

There were points where your parents would turn to each other. And Joel would turn to you. It was sort of a silent check-in. 

Under the protection of the table, his hand found your knee, his big fingers lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It was the first time you cracked a real smile all dinner. Your hand ghosted over his, your nails lightly running soothing, slow lines on the underside of his wrist by his watch. 

You doin’ okay?

Mhm.

It didn’t dawn on you that Joel might have felt he did something to cause your saddened mood. And this was his way of asking. You bit down on your lower lip, feeling his fingers lightly interlock with yours over your knee. Your eyelashes flutter at the warmth it propels through your body. It was just what you needed. Everything was going to be okay. 

---

You’re working over a stubborn steak juice stain on a plate as the sun sets over the lake and glistens a soft yellow-orange hue through the windows in the kitchen. Your parents are moving around you while you rinse the dishes, back turned to them as they spoke in mundane conversation and pack up leftovers.

You don’t see him, but you can feel Joel’s presence as he enters the doorway. He watches you. He watches your parents. You wonder what he sees. The next thing you know, he’s shaking your parents hands and bidding them goodnight. 

He stops at you. As the running faucet splashes against a few forks and a wine glass, you spare him a glance. 

“Walk me out?” Your parents take notice of his ask. And not in the way you expect. 

You tilt back and forth on your feet, looking back to the dishes. You really just wanted to finish what was left to clean and read in your room for the rest of the night. 

“Uhm-”

“Go on and walk him out, honey. We’ll see you soon, Joel. Thanks for stoppin’ in.” 

Your eyes go from Joel’s, to your parents. If they were anything, at least they were oblivious. 

You and your mother share a look before she sighs and exits the kitchen. Your jaw loosens, not even realizing how hard you were grinding your teeth while looking at her. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Your murmured voice is barely audible above the gushing sink faucet. After you set the plate on the drying rack and smear your wet hands on a dish towel, you walk Joel outside. 

The night breeze off the lake sets in a layer of goosebumps up your arms. 

Joel’s boots scuff against the gravel and dirt in his driveway, his footsteps pausing at his truck and turning to face you. 

The rising moon and setting sun work in unison to highlight his aquiline nose and silver-sprinkled jawline. He’s charmingly handsome. Rugged features meet a stone facade. 

You take a hesitant look back into the house. The kitchen light is still on, but no one is in the small windows. 

“You wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on with you?” He crosses his arms, cocking his leg out as he leans his weight onto one of his hips. 

You muster up a shrug and fold your hands around your arms to keep the light chill away. It felt like you couldn’t tell the truth, the house and your parents inside watching over you. The pressure of it all makes your shoulders lurch up a bit into your neck. 

But Joel continues to press you. You’re making him nervous, you think, because he’s not accustomed to seeing you so quiet. 

“Are you..” His words falter and fall off, and you can see the frown creased into his mouth.  “You’re wantin’ t’stop seein’ each other?” 

“What?” Now you’re the one frowning, closing the gap between you and Joel and taking him by his hand to the other side of the truck, using it as a shield between you and the rest of the world. Your back flushes against his driver-side door. 

“No, I don’t want to stop seeing you, Joel.” You frown and squeeze his hand a little tighter in assurance. “Trust me. You’re kind of..” You struggle to make the words fit. Nothing seems right. You’re kind of the only person I want to be around right now.

Joel looks a little relieved. He doesn’t make you finish your sentence. He seems to connect the dots. Joel looks from your solemn face to the house behind you—the cause of your ill-stricken mood. 

“How about we grab a drink n’talk.” It’s not a question, exactly, it’s more like a command. 

You don’t want to talk about what happened, and you have a sneaking suspicion that if you two go off together, your parents will be asking questions. 

You push the toe of your sneaker into the gravel and twist slowly back and forth. 

“I should just head back inside. My parents are probably waiting up for me, anyway. Cleanup duty.” You say unenthusiastically with a dash of sarcasm. Joel’s eyes are looking past you, still at the house. You turn around to follow his eyeline. All the lights in the house have been turned off—even the porch light. Joel scowls at the sight, thinking how he always leaves the light on for Sarah. 

The caged-in feeling returns, your chest tight as you look to your feet and try to breathe through the ache your heart held. You wanted to get out of here, and now. 

“Never mind.” You bite down on your lower lip to hold it together. “Let’s go.” 

You’re already swinging open Joel’s door, rust creaking at the joints as you slide into the passenger seat. These old trucks with no center console were so cool to you. Maybe you'd appreciate it more if you weren’t in such a shitty mood. But Joel’s already in the truck beside you, the warmth he’s radiating was welcome. His key turns in the ignition, and it clicks a few times before the engine roars to life. 

You don’t talk, he doesn’t force you to. You feel at peace putting some distance between you and the lakehouse. 

Joel drives past neighborhoods with funny street names.  Thunderbird Lane. Firefly Drive. Sugar Loaf Lane.

As the sun just finishes setting, the whole town is covered in an orange glow that will soon fade to purple. Everything flies by your window, and moving at this speed feels like the cage is lifting around your chest, the clasps on your wrist snapping free. 

Rolling down the window makes the breeze funnel into the truck and flow through your hair. Before you know it, your body is halfway out of the window. 

“What ‘n God’s name do you think you’re doin’?” Joel’s tone was warning, his fist catching your dress in a fist around your lower back in an attempt to make sure you didn’t get thrown out of the truck.  “Get back in here.” 

You turned back so Joel could see you, eyes lit, and a smile from ear to ear. His hold slowly loosens at the sight before him. 

Back arched out the window, he drives a little slower and towards the center of the road. You look up, arms outstretched into the night air as you breathe everything in. Fresh lungs, filled with a new perspective, no tears left to cry as you hang out of Joel’s window. The stars gleam, and the universe is vast.

Oh my god. You hear yourself mumble, feeling freedom reeling through your entire body. And like that, you were new again. 

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips. You’re back in the truck now, and you roll the window up but not completely closed. The wind still tickles a breeze into your thrown-about hair. You look to Joel, his eyes already on yours. 

Joel sees your fire has been re-lit, thrashing out licks of flame and building in intensity. He adores you wild and free.

“Better?”

You fix the space between you, your body melting into his side as your head lazily rolls onto his shoulder. His heavy arm finds its way around the tops of your shoulders to keep you sedentary. 

“Much better.” 

---

He ends up passing the central part of town. It’s better this way. Go somewhere he won’t be recognized with a woman half his age. He’s the one who lives in town throughout the year. You and your family only visit in the summer. It doesn’t help that the town is small, and Joel is one of a handful of skilled contractors in the area. 

His rusted truck lulls to a jittery stop outside a small bar lit by a red neon sign reading, Past Lives. You wander inside, passing empty barstools and a glowing dartboard, while your sneakers crunch peanut shells littering the ground. You nearly slipped on a large pile of them, but Joel’s hand was firmly on your bicep before you could flail any further. 

“You might be the clumsiest woman I’ve ever met.” He mutters, annoyance passing over his features. 

You roll your eyes and scoot onto one of the tall barstools at a small square table against the wall. “I doubt that’s true.” 

He shrugs his shoulders and cracks open a peanut, tossing it into his mouth. “You’re right. Your mother is the clumsiest woman I know. You get it from her. Once, I watched her glide five or six feet down the end of the dock and land in the water.” 

An ill feeling passes over you again, pursing your lips as you trace your finger around the small bowl Joel is picking his peanuts from. 

Joel halts his movements, chewing included, and watches as your eyes stare meaninglessly at the table. 

“Never really seen you like this. Thought I’d like it if you were quiet for once. But now it just feels out of character.” 

Joel’s boot teasingly nudges your sneaker under the table. His brown eyes look warm despite the lack of light in the dingy bar. Your stomach twists thinking about how he looked under the moonlight just half an hour ago. 

Those pretty eyes of his meet yours. Soft. Kind. “Talk to me.”

A beaten-up sigh leaves your lips, tugging at the hem of your dress. 

After a drink or two, you tell Joel everything he missed before dinner. How you and your mother fought. How it was all venom and tears, leaving you cold and alone on the bathroom tile. By the time the battle came to a halt, there was no clear winner or loser. 

Joel’s an attentive listener. He doesn’t interrupt. He knows when to prompt you need a push. Joel’s pile of peanut shells has turned into a small molehill. The ice in your drink sloshes around as you start talking with your hands. 

“I love her, I mean, she’s my mom. But she’s always fought me on this. This-this-...”  

“The traveling,” Joel assists, his large hand nursing a small glass of whiskey. He looks amused like he enjoys watching you spew. You supposed he feels more relieved to see you explode like this rather than holding it all in.

“And-and it’s so much more than that! She fought me about leaving Texas for school, she fought me about doing a semester abroad, she just can’t let me go, it’s suffocating!” 

You didn’t mean to sound so passionate, and you hadn’t realized how vocal you became until someone slowly clapped on the other side of the bar in appreciation. You stifled a laugh and put your head shyly in your hands. 

He nods slowly, waiting to see what you’ll say next. You’re using him like you’re journaling at home, now it’s just interactive. 

You sigh and pinch at the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes as you listen to an old country slow song humming throughout the bar. 

“Didn’t even wanna come back this year.” Your words are barely above a murmur. 

This makes Joel pause. “What d’you say?” 

You sit up straight and sigh, crossing one leg over the other under the table. These stupid drinks are making you tell the truth. Be more vulnerable than you would ordinarily be. But it’s also because you’re talking to Joel, and he’s always been interested in what you have to say. 

“I didn’t want to come back this year. These past few years, I didn’t come back to Danbury because I sort of- purposely- busied up my summer. Internships, work, anything to keep me busy and out from under their-their….” You pause to make hand gestures that are wide and all-encompassing. 

Joel juts his jaw out to the side, lips pursed before he speaks again. 

“M’happy you came back.”  

There’s a moment of silence. Joel’s eyes aren’t on yours anymore. He’s swirling his glass around slowly and watching his ice rotate in a sloppy circle. You slowly start to smile as he looks bashful. 

“What did you say, Mr.Miller?” You pry teasingly, reaching your hand over and gently stroking his watch band. The nickname makes his eyes narrow on yours. 

“Nothin’. Forget about it.” He throws back the last of his drink, and you’re cooing for him to continue. 

“Wha- Joel, come on! Why did you say that?” 

He’s just trying to buckle down his smile, hiding it with his whiskey glass and shaking his head. 

“Didn’t say nothin’.”

“Yes, you so did. Don’t even try to lie.” 

“I’ve never lied a day in my life.”

Your eyes go wide, and now you’re smacking his forearm. He’s shoving quarters at you now, sliding them to your side of the table as a form of distraction. 

“Can you just-” He scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes, finalizing his quarter total to four. “-fuck off, go put a song on the jukebox.” 

You sneer at him but obey. You look for something particular, pausing on Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac, smirking at him as you punch in his quarters. He seems confused as to why you stay standing at the jukebox. 

The chorus hits, and you point accusingly at him as you do so. 

“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies,” you can’t even finish before your right foot catches on more slippery peanut shells, freezing like you were caught on ice skates and trying not to fall. 

Joel’s hand has a vice grip on your bicep again until you regain your balance. God. Your face gathers heat as you snatch your phone off the table, and he lets out a laugh at your expense. 

“Can’t sing,”

“Hey-”

“Can’t walk in a straight line.”

“I had like four drinks.”

“Two.” He corrects. There’s no hiding that you’re just unbearably uncoordinated. 

“God. Just- get me out of here, Miller.” 

Joel was biting back a smile. He likes teasing you, taunting you. Only because you know how to serve it back to him. 

“Not until you see this. Wanna show you somethin’.” He sets down his whiskey and lays down cash to cover the tab. 

You start your stride, and Joel’s already looking at you with instilled concern. You insist I’m fine. Go on. You follow him through a narrow hallway towards the restrooms, an exit door lit up with a red sign over it. 

The walls are filled with signs, pictures, and letters, all illuminated by a soft flickering strip light.  These were trails that people had left along the way, passing through the bar and leaving a piece of them behind for strangers to admire. It was like a memory wall. 

Joel leans back against the men’s restroom doorframe, arms crossed as he silently admires the wall. And you. 

Your fingers brush an old family picture timestamped from the late 80s. There were business cards, from bankers to bonds bailsman. 

You feel Joel’s hand cast warmth on your hip, guiding you further down the hall. You follow his eyeline to a large yellow-light spoiled wall map. There were push pins all in different parts of the world. 

“Look at all of these, Joel!” Your eagerness was evident as you stepped in front of him, finger flying from one point to the next, squinting past the tacks to read the cities people have visited. 

“Bangkok, Thailand. Paris, France. Of course. London, Dubai, Tokyo.” Your voice trails off, finger-stopping around the empty parts of the map that some of the bargoers had yet to venture off to. The pins around the state of Texas were ironic. 

You gently took a step back, Joel's broad and hardened front caressing your back. His arms gently wrap around you before they clasp at your front. You rest your temple against his bicep as you sigh. You found comfort in him tonight more than he could understand. 

Your neck cranes to the side and up, observing his defined jawline from below. “Have you ever been out of the country?” Your face is lit with excitement, only to fall as he slowly shakes his head. You turn back to the map, your fingers gently holding onto his muscular forearm. 

“Am I crazy for wanting to leave?” 

You can feel a heavy breath leave through Joel’s nose, the air fanning over the top of your head. 

“You’re not leavin’. You’re travelin’. You’ll come back, eventually.” 

The muscle in your jaw twitches, and your eyes move to the Eastern side of the map, spotting the tiny European countries. 

“Maybe my mom is so worried that if I decide to leave, I might not come back.” You say it as a joke. It makes Joel muster up a tut. But maybe, just maybe, you mean it.

---

You feel drops scatter from the dark black clouds overhead as you rush out to the truck, feeling the cold rain splash onto the exposed skin of your thighs.

Joel’s hot on your heels, doing his little side hop down the stairs and jogging lightly with his arms tucked into his sides. He’s already tossed you the keys to his truck. His body hovers over yours and shields the raindrops from landing on your head as you fiddle with unlocking the truck door. 

“Any day now.”

His babbling thwarts your concentration. 

“Fuck off, it’s like- rusted shut.” You tease before giving the handle one large tug, and it gives way with a creak. You slip in, dress hem tangling up on your upper thighs. Your hand flies to fix it instinctually, but you slow down when you see how adamantly Joel admires the exposed skin.

When you two make eye contact, he’s already cleared his throat and put the key in the ignition. He cranes his neck back to look out the rearview window, left hand cranking the wheel with precision while his right arm wraps around the back of your headrest. You swallow the lump in your throat, watching Joel reverse out of the bar’s parking lot and back onto the main road.

Your heart thumps, and you think he can hear it because his eyes are on yours when he turns back around. Magnetizing. And you have a hard time facing him without feeling a little shy. Because you’re thinking incredibly naughty things now. 

On the drive home, the rain pelts the truck and hard. Joel’s wimpy wipers are working at full speed. He’s not concerned because he knows these streets with his eyes closed. He turns up the radio a little bit to drown out the rain. He does it for you to ease your nerves. 

“You’re quiet.” He murmurs, his eyes still on the murky road in front of him. 

You can’t help but be quiet. He looks so fucking hot. As dim streaks of lightning skitter across the sky, you see the silver hairs in his mustache and beard. His rain-dampened curls are recoiling, fresh, and wavy. His thick neck was lined with strong veins and muscle.

“So are you.” You murmur back. 

His eyes catch you in sneaky glances. Your hair, pretty and dry since he shielded you in the bar’s parking lot. Dress half rumpled up your thighs, smooth skin of your legs exposed to his wandering pupils. 

The truck suddenly shifts, veering off the main road.  

“Woah,” you gasp, thinking the truck had slid at first. But Joel’s foot was still on the gas, cautiously guiding you off to a side road. You look around, covered by darkness and trees that shield your existence but do little to veil the obscene thoughts racing through your head. 

Joel finally throws the truck into a parked position, your eyes watching as his hand snaps the keys out of the ignition. 

He looks over at you expectantly. And you just deadpan. 

“Get over here." He says between gritted teeth, voice drenched in lust as he snaps off his seatbelt and then your own.

His large hands pull you in as soon as you’re free. You don’t waste another minute, straddling his lap and resting between him and his steering wheel.  

You clutch the collar of his dark green button-up, tugging him by his neck into your kiss. It’s messy and desperate, but you've wanted to taste him since dinner. His greedy hands are wrinkling your dress. The cold air tickles your warm thighs, and you whimper into his mouth. 

Joel’s kisses are rough but fluent; he speaks the language of your lips. You take a moment to admire how different the two of you are and how it feels like he’s the key to your lock. 

His warm palms slip up the front of your thighs as he kisses you, hasty and happy. He takes the hem of your dress with him. Joel is as warm as a furnace. He’s heating you from the inside out as your core begins to ache for him.

He pauses the kiss, large palm coming up to cup your cheek as his thumb traces along your lower lip. You take the time to catch your breath, feeling his own fog against the window next to you. 

“Not exactly the most romantic spot.” His eyes shift with lust-filled guilt. “M’sorry.” 

You work up a smile, leaning in to gently kiss his cheek and up his cheekbone. 

“It’s okay. We’re not romantic.” Your clarification feels like a lie. He doesn’t need to know that. 

The rain outside becomes blurred, and Joel’s looking through you again. Right through you. Your chest pounds under his watchful eyes. He sucks in the side of his cheeks, looks you up and down your face. 

Don’t lie to me. 

Don’t make me tell you the truth.

He decides to let you move on unscathed, your thighs clamping around his own with your knees at either side of his hips. His worry lines are stamped into his forehead as he looks over you cautiously. 

You break into a smile, unable to stand him looking at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Joel,” you whisper into his ear, soft lips giving his ear a kiss as your nose lightly brushes against his soft curls. Your voice drops to a whisper, sweet and divine. “Don’t make me beg, Mr. Miller.” 

Your lips suckle his earlobe and cast your tongue along the curve while his fingertips immediately dig deeper into the flesh of your hips. The sensation makes his cock twitch in his jeans. 

You smirk as you grind your hips into his lap, a suppressed grunt leaving his parted lips. He’s into it. “You like this, Mr. Miller?” Your words are murmured against the shell of his ear, teeth gently catching his earlobe and lightly tugging. 

Your words along with the rhythm of your hips over his lap have him in a tailspin. 

“Knock it off.” He warns, teeth gritted, a low growl emitting from his throat while he grips you at the waist to pause any movement. He looks so sexy snarling at you like this. Your hand reaches between you two, palming against his cock until you feel it swell into the heart of your hand. 

Joel is lazily planting kisses on the soft skin of your neck, he’s distracted by how good your hand feels. 

You take turns half undressing one another. Joel pushes your dress up to your waist and loops his index finger into the band of your panties. He guides them down with your assistance. You kick the material off your ankles and move to pop open each button of his long sleeve. He goes to shrug it off, but you smile and tighten your hold on the collar. 

“I like it on. Just wanna see your chest hair.” 

His mouth tilts into a crooked smirk.

“‘lright, then. Good to know.” He leans back in and places messy kisses on your exposed neck. You can feel how badly he wants to sink his teeth in, but you share the mutual rule of keeping those things below the collar. Out of sight, out of other people’s nosy minds. 

You struggle to admit that jimmying open his belt at this angle was pissing you off. You’re holding your breath until it clicks open, and you let out a sigh of relief. So does Joel. 

A gasp leaves your lips as Joel lifts the both of you up purely with the strength of his hips, a low grunt leaving his pouted lips as he pushes his jeans down to his knees, along with his boxers. You sit back down over him and feel his heavy shaft pressing against your slick center. His girth makes you whimper. 

The rhythm of the rain eases your racing heart. You take Joel’s pulsing member into your slightly shaky hand. 

“Nervous?” It’s not cocky or concerned, just curious. 

“M’not nervous.” You mutter, starting to pump his cock to get him to shut up. And it works. For a minute. 

His head falls back into the seat as he watches you in admiration, his own hand wandering between your spread legs and gliding two fingers through your slick. His forefinger grazes against your clit, and he has you whimpering again. 

“S’okay to be nervous.” His thumb slowly starts delicate circles into your bundle of nerves, and now he’s got your legs quivering. 

You’re chewing at the inside of your cheek, shifty eyes meeting his. You pace your words this time. “I’m not nervous, Joel.” You pull away from him to create a line of spit from your mouth, landing on his pink tip already drizzling in precum. You swallow your nerve and bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Not with you.” 

The mutual understanding links the two of you together, bound to the agreement in silence. You have a burning desire for one another. You’re scared, and he knows it. You push him to the limits, his heart beats for you. 

Steam fogs the windows of Joel’s truck. The rain dances a fine line between pounding and pouring to slow and subtle. 

Joel’s kisses lull you into a peaceful existence. You take off your dress, unable to stand anything between you and Joel. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you, your tits flush against his thick chest. 

You line him up by his base, Joel’s trying to hold himself still under you. You’re focusing hard, and he kisses your temple to ease your thoughts. He murmurs something, but you’re too busy concentrating. 

His pink tip meets your warm flesh, and his tip slowly parts your walls. He’s seething between his teeth, how tight you are washes pleasure over his face. He wants you to go slow. You don’t want him to go easy on you. You can’t help but let his name tumble from your lips in desperation. 

“Joel,” you whine, one hand clenching the fabric of his button-up by his shoulder while the other still weakly holds his base. 

“M’here, baby.”

He’s rubbing soothing circles in your hips with his forefingers, trying to distract you from the stretch he’s creating inside you. 

His breaths are coming out in hot puffs. The truck isn’t cold anymore, in fact, it’s only steaming up. 

“So- fuckin’- tight.” He murmurs, eyebrows knitted together as his jaw was dropped open. 

It was sharp at first, but the further you sank over him, the more you couldn’t contain yourself. As soon as his balls were flushed against your core, you were kissing him. Hot and heavy, desperate and needy, can’t get enough of each other sort of kisses. One of his hands holds the back of your head to keep you close while your fingers are delicately feeling up his chest and mazing through salt and pepper hair. 

You smirk lazily against his lips, pulling away to rest your head on his shoulder. With this leverage, you start to roll your hips down onto his. Joel’s hands assist, squeezing your ass and guiding you smoothly up and down his shaft. You’re both moaning one another’s names, hazy eyes watching each other as long as they can before eventually drifting closed. 

You wished you weren’t fucking in his truck, your riding skills were a lot better than this, but if you try and pop up, your head will just smack into the roof. And he’ll make fun of you for as long as he knows you. 

“God- feel so good, Joel.” 

You’re panting already a few minutes in. You don’t want Joel to think you can’t do this, you don’t want his help. But your body is crammed in limited quarters, and you’re already sweating. 

He feels good. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s had sex. He’s not exactly the most outgoing of gentlemen. Thinking about him being with other women, maybe even women his age stirs a weird pit inside your stomach. 

One hand steadies itself on Joel’s forearm while the other gently clutches his cheek. You leave a messy moan against his ear. 

“Do you like fucking girls half your age, Mr. Miller?” You ask with a teasing smirk, messy kisses against his stubble and his ear ensuing. 

He’s grunting every time you throw yourself back into him, skin clapping against his thighs, his hands slipping from your hips to your ass and squeezing the juicy flesh. “-like fuckin’ you.” 

A low, extended groan leaves his lips as he holds your hips down, filling you full and having you sit with it. You throw your head back, and your eyes shudder closed with a loud moan occupying the truck. 

You tell yourself that you’re both just fuck happy. You can worry about the depth of Joel’s words later. He feels too good inside of you for the first time to give a shit.

Joel’s thrusts bring you back to life, hand landing against his window and leaving a print mark against the steamy glass. 

Joel senses your languid movements. He thinks you look pretty being fucked in his trunk during a thunderstorm. The darkness wraps the both of you up, only seeing flashes of each other’s features. He combs his large hand into your hair, catching your striking features with his hooded eyes. The slope of your nose. The curvature of your collarbones. Your pretty lips that he can’t stop staring at. 

Joel enjoys the control too much for you to be on top for a second longer. 

You collapse onto the truck’s long leather seat, lips parting in surprise as he maneuvers you to lie back without slipping from your entrance. 

“H-Holy fuck, Joel-” You’re breathless. 

Joel’s jaw clicks tighter as he flattens one of his large palms beside your head for leverage, hovering over you as he begins to methodically snap his hips into yours. Your desperate cries for more fill the truck. 

Both of you are horridly cursing, some in the form of whines and moans and others in the form of whispered grunts. 

Fuckin Christ-

Holy shit, Joel, please-

Feel so god damn good, princess-

Oh f- fuck me Joel, fuck me!

You’re already feeling the knots in your stomach tether tighter and tighter together, back arching as your chest brushes against his nose. 

Joel takes the opportunity and licks a hot stripe between your breasts. You know he tastes your glistening sweat, but the trail from his tongue makes you clench tighter around him. 

You catch Joel’s unfiltered groan in your mouth, his forehead resting against yours as his amber eyes grace yours. 

He’s close, you can see it in the way his features contort and his thrusts become more unpredictable. You had no idea he could fuck this good. 

Joel brings a hand up to your lips and offers you two fingers. You whimper but reluctantly take them past your mouth. You suckle and lather your tongue up and down each digit, it makes his cock twitch inside of you. 

He plucks his fingers free with a pop, a trail of spit extending from your bottom lip to your chin as he reaches between you both. 

Finding your swollen bundle of nerves doesn’t take him more than a second. You were so turned on it was almost painful. 

Joel’s tip sweetly kisses your cervix at this angle, and you are so close to spilling over. Your hands cup his face, pulling him into you as you share a messy kiss. You think about how scared you were to kiss him before, but now it makes you feel a sense of protection and safety. You wrap your arms around his neck, you need him close. 

“Joel,” you whimper, clenching your eyes closed and dropping your jaw as he finds the perfect rhythm circling your clit. 

“Can’t hear ya, baby,” He grunts into your ear. You can feel him tiredly smirking against your cheek, knowing he’s fucking you so good you’re struggling to find the words. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, your legs clenching tighter at the sides of his hips. “M’on birth control, finish inside me,” you whisper against his ear. 

You can hear him let out a short, breathy chuckle against your ear. It only drives him more, knowing he can fill you up. 

“Y’sure, sweetheart?” 

“Want to?” 

His teeth are gritted as he growls into your ear. “Course I wanna fill your sweet cunt up.” 

It was hopeless after that. 

A crack of thunder and a strike of lightning conspire, your view of Joel illuminating his gorgeous face in a white-silver flash. 

The tight coils inside you snap free, a broken moan of his name being the last thing you remember saying before white stars filled your vision. Your hold on Joel loosens as your orgasm crashes through you ungracefully, making you twitch and rut your hips below him. 

His fingers and his thrusts don’t stop. He rides out your orgasm, following suit until he flushes his hips against yours and lets out a heavenly groan of your name. You’re still under him, vision blurry and hearing fuzzy. He finds solace in the crook of your neck, nuzzling a home for himself in the space and losing himself deep inside you. 

His body shudders lightly as he finishes, spilling white streams into you for who knows how long. Your hand is gently stroking the hair at the back of his head, fingers combing through dark curls as he breathes hot air against your neck. 

You both slowly blink back to life. He’s complimenting you, but you’re too blissed out to hear the details. 

So good, baby… Such a pretty fuckin’ girl... So lucky. 

Joel tuts softly as he attempts to free his softened length, but you whine and tighten your legs around his hips to keep him stationary. 

Your eyelashes flutter as you feel gentle kisses by the corners of your eyes, tiredly smiling as you open them before slowly sitting up onto your elbows. Joel takes the opportunity to pull out and yank his boxers and jeans back into place, securing his belt last. 

He still keeps his shirt unbuttoned for you, partially because you have a hold on a random corner to keep it so. 

With the absence of your pants hotboxing the truck, you slip back into your dress with a light shudder. You reach past Joel’s leg to retrieve your panties and pull them up your stems to keep his spillage to a minimum. 

“Good?” He asks, a smile slowly growing on your lips. He looked so fucked out. You both probably did. You attempt to fix Joel’s hair, and he takes his thumb to swipe away the saliva trail on your chin. 

“Good.” You agree. Quiet and sapped, but good. 

You force Joel to play a few games of tic-tac-toe on the foggy glass before the storms lighten up, and you can actually see more than a few feet in front of the road. 

You’re picking at the skin around your nails the entire drive home. So many questions compile in your worn-out brain. 

What if your parents noticed you were gone? What if they were awake, waiting for you by the kitchen window, and they see you slip out of Joel’s truck? Try explaining yourself after that one. 

As Joel pulls into his driveway, you observe the lake house is still dark and silent. Empty but also not. Joel’s warm palm is on your leg. It draws your attention away from the window, focusing just on him. 

“Joel?”

“Hm?” 

You shift your jaw before you lay your head back against the headrest, gentle pitter patters of the last rain cloud splashing on the window. 

“What do you do when you’re not working? Like on that Saturday when I talked to you at your truck.” 

He musters up a half-mouth smirk. “Didn’t do much talkin’ that I recall.” 

You roll your eyes and slam a closed fist against his shoulder. It barely rocks his arm, let alone his body. “M’serious.” 

He lets out a long sigh and looks out the windshield. “I do stuff around town or-  for the town.”

He’s so hard to push details out of. He’s like a jammed stapler. 

“Go on. So, like, volunteering?”

Joel rolls his eyes and shrugs. “S’not really like that.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just sort of starts smiling. “Just like keeping myself busy. But now I have you on my plate.” He teased. Your chest felt warm, knowing he kept a place for you in his hectic life. 

“What sort of stuff are you working on right now?” 

He takes a long, deep breath through his nose. You can hear it whistle before he lets it all out of his mouth, followed by clearing his throat. 

“Y’know that old church past that big field on the east side of Danbury?” 

You mindlessly shake your head and shrug. 

“When I was a kid, I used t’go to that church-”

“For God?” You can’t help but blurt it out in shock. 

He narrows his eyes on you and smirks.

“M’not exactly the Godly type.” You look over his chiseled jawline and beautiful, robust features. You’d have to disagree. He looked like one of God’s favorites. 

“So.. why are you trying to fix an old church?”

Joel slowly smiles, eyes mindlessly on the dashboard of his truck before he answers. “I have a thing for the broken, used, and abandoned.” 

Your head cocks to the side, and you give him a look, pressing him for an honest answer. Or maybe it was an honest answer, and you’re just looking for a better answer. 

He shuffles around in his seat before he continues, hand still aimlessly circling on your thigh. “It wasn’t operable when I was a kid, just rundown, abandoned. There used to be a stained glass mural on the-uh... east-facing wall. So when the sun came up through it, the whole place just- lit up.” He pauses and shifts his focus to you. 

“Now, y’know, it’s fallin’ apart. Dumb kids throwin’ rocks at it and chipping away the glass, age makin’ it all dust-covered.” Joel shrugs and falls back into his closed pit of secrecy. 

“So… you’re fixing up the town.”

A pause. “More or less.” 

“You know how to make a stained glass mural?”

He shakes his head and purses his lips. “No. But I can figure it out.” 

You twist your lips and slowly climb over his lap once more. His eyes watch you curiously while his hands settle on your hips. You cup either side of his neck, fingertips lightly brushing up against messy curls. 

“Can I see this mural you’re working on?” 

He takes a long time to answer. So much dead silence fills the truck you start to feel a bit awkward about asking, like maybe it was too far. 

“Please.” You ask or tell rather. You kiss his lips lightly to try and sway his pending decision. “I won’t judge, I think it’s cool.”

“Cool?” He instantly chirps, cocking an eyebrow up at you. 

“I didn’t say you were cool-”

“You most certainly did.” 

You’re shaking your head, and his pointer finger is prodding into your side to get under your skin. “I said that it’s cool. The stained glass stuff, that is what is cool.” 

He’s already sneering at you. “Whatever you say, princess.” You can feel your cheeks singe with heat. Your hand anxiously scrabbles for the door handle, letting the rusty door creak open for your exit.

Sneakers scrape gravel after you climb out of Joel’s lap, his boots landing suit. 

He smoothes a hand down your dress, your eyes watch before you face him. 

“You gonna be alright?” Joel's face is laced with slight concern, his head cocking past you and looking to the house. 

You shrug and shake your head. “Yeah. We’ve had this fight before, and we’ll have it again.” 

He doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer. He’s teetering on his heels as a stray raindrop lands on your cheek. 

“You can..” He trails off as his thumb comes up and brushes away the droplet, hand lingering before he cups your cheek. “Y’know, can always stay with us if you need a break. M’sure Sarah would love the company.” And so would he. 

Your eyes soften, the gesture warm and safe. You couldn’t even imagine the trouble you’d stir up at Joel’s house. Sure, you could occupy yourself with Sarah when she returned from camping, but what would you and Joel do? Well, besides the obvious…

Your lips curl into a tight smile, not wanting him to reel in his invite out of pure bashfulness. 

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.” Your eyes are on his until he sighs, his shoulders reset into that of a broad lumberjack once more. His eyes looked like they were scheming. It’s fast, like a flash, and before you know it, the look is gone. 

“Take care of yourself.” He leans down and plants a kiss on the crown of your head, thumb skimming up the line of your cheekbone. Suddenly, your heart is racing again. 

You cup his cheeks and pull him down for a real goodbye kiss, two sets of pouted lips against one another, unwilling to let go until you have to. 

---

“What are you doing after work?” You’re on a call with Joel, phone pressed between your ear and hunched shoulder. 

“What are you wearing right now?” He taunts, voice crackling in and out of connection since he was currently working at a house out of town. 

“Ha.” You deadpan, closing the sliding glass door behind you as you step back into the empty lake house, skin sweltering from being in the sun for the better half of the afternoon reading on the dock. “No, really, I could use your help.”

The phone volume shrills in your ear as you hear an electric saw roar to life, Joel cursing repeatedly as he walks away from all the noise.  “Jesus fuckin-.. so damn lou- Can you hear me better?” 

Once the saw dulled, you put the phone back to your ear.  “Yeah.”

“What do you need help with?” His voice sounds a little preoccupied like he’s trying to focus on you, but he’s got a million things running through his head. 

“My window.” You say with a frown, stepping into your bedroom and cursing at the sight of it. “Won’t open. Maybe you can crack it open with some of your handy dandy tools.”

You smile as he musters up a little laugh at your hardware knowledge or lack thereof. “I don’t know about today, baby.” 

“You are the property maintenance guy for our lakehouse now, right? You have a duty to help me.” You tease, stepping back outside with a fresh bottle of water and an apple. Your teeth pierce the skin, and the apple’s juices gush past your lips. 

“Jesus, fine. I’ll be over. I’m almost done.”

You purse your lips to hide your smirk. God, he can’t even see you, but you don’t want him to know he’s got you flustered. 

“Parents are running errands today... If that’s extra incentive for you to hurry up.” 

Joel pauses on the other end. He’s probably got that stupid smirk on his face. “In that case, I’ll leave now.”

“I knew you’d see things my way. Thank youuu.” You playfully coo. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.

An hour later, Joel’s outside your window while you assist from the inside. His face is twisted in concentration, eyes narrowed on a misaligned hinge that he works free with a screwdriver, realigns, then screws tight into its proper place. 

He looks stupid hot so focused like this. Tanned skin, hair a little dusty from work. The veins in his forearm were bulging as he uses pressure to keep the hinge in place. You had to blink a few times to keep yourself from staring. He feels it. 

“Can I help you?” His voice was thick and echoing since he was speaking to you between a glass pane. 

You bite back a smirk and shake your head. 

He pulls off the hinge and nods, pats it a few times before looking at you and giving you a thumbs up. 

You decide to let him come inside before you open the window yourself, twisting at the string of your bikini bottom as you wait. He took in your appearance as soon as he parked in the driveway. 

“What?”

“...Nothin’. Like the outfit.”

“Joel, I was sunbathing. And reading. It wasn’t an intended distraction.” It was. 

“Mhm.”

Joel appears at the entrance of your bedroom. You silently curse yourself for not updating it more. It still looked like a sixteen-year-old fangirl lived in it. 

He appreciates the posters and magazines, checking his handiwork at the window. 

“Wanna give it a go? Open it?” 

You eagerly smile and step up to the window, playfully tugging on it and heaving. 

“I-.. It’s still stuck.” You say with a frown. “Joel, you said you fixed it.”

“What? Shouldn’t be-” He’s already got his hands on the frame and tugs, feeling it easily slip up and open. You’re giggling as his face deadpans. 

“You think you’re so funny.” He taunts, his body turning towards you as he chucks his tools haphazardly on your bed. You’re already attempting to take leaps and bounds away from Joel, but his arms are long, and so are his strides. 

His rough hands capture you by your waist, dusty and calloused fingers ghosting over your warm skin. 

Joel’s lips eagerly greet yours, both of you grinning into the kiss. It’s slow as you let it envelop you. Your heart races. He’s not supposed to be here, your parents could come home any time now.  

You bite down on your lower lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach as he backs you up against your wall, foreheads gently pressed together. His eyes flick behind you, and your head follows his gaze. 

“Boybands, huh?”

You roll your eyes and smirk, fingers moving to the button of his jeans. 

“Shut up, Joel. Leave the boybands out of it.” 

A car door slamming catches both of your attention. Heads whip on instinct, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Your parents are home, and Joel’s half-hard in your palm. 

“Oh, shit.” You curse. 

Joel’s already moving, grabbing his tools off your bed, and adjusting his jeans. “Lemme handle it.” Your heart pounds as you and Joel greet your parents at the door. They walk in with fresh shopping bags. A cheesy sign for the living room sticks out from one of them. 

“Joel?” They both ask in unison, looking between the man beside you and you in your bikini. Your mother’s face lightly flushes. 

“Hey, Joel! Good to see ya!” Your father sets the bags on the table and grabs a beer from the fridge. You shift on your feet and just let Joel lead. 

Your dad’s oblivious, your mother is more curious

. 

“What are you... What are you doing here?” She tries to ask casually with a little smile. 

Joel raises his screwdriver, strategically keeping the toolbag in front of his lower half. You try not to smirk. 

“Was fixin’ your daughter’s jammed window.”

Your mother's face softens before she smiles. “Y’know, that thing has been jammed for… years. Thank you.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile and nod. “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Miller.” The light glare he sends you means you’ll pay for that one later. Joel clears his throat and nods, too. He turns to you now, and you share a look. 

“Just… let me know if it happens again. Might need to replace the hinge entirely. Small piece of it could be broken, might be why it keeps slippin’ out of place.”

“Yeah. For sure. Thanks.” 

You walk past your mother and open the door from him, but he still stands between your parents. What the hell is he doing?

“While I have you both, I was just tellin’ your daughter ‘bout a business trip I have comin’ up.” Huh? “ It’s not for Miller Contracting. It’s more for the town. I’m gettin’ materials for the old church-”

“Oh, the one with the broken stained glass mural on the east side of town?” Your mother chirps in. “We just drove past it. Just saying how someone needs to fix it up.” Joel’s lightly nodding to your mother’s words, her face soft as she listens to him with curiosity. 

“Well, I was tellin’ her about it ‘cause I could use some help getting materials from a supplier in Houston. I’d normally ask Sarah to tag along and help, but she said she’s got some graduation parties next weekend that she doesn’t wanna miss. Would it be alright if-”

“Oh, of course! Yes, please, if you need her help and she wants to go, she’s all yours.” 

Your eyes are wide, trying not to seem too shocked by Joel secretly sweeping you out from under your parents without them even noticing. 

Joel turns to you, eyebrow cocked.  “That okay with you? Next weekend. Friday to Sunday sort’f thing.” 

A whole weekend alone with Joel? Your insides are bursting, but you have to seem apathetic. 

“Mhm. Sure.” 

Joel sneaks you a private smile. “Really appreciate it. Ya’ll have a good rest of your evenin’.” And with that, he’s out the front door. 

You couldn’t believe what just happened. 

You try to act casual before you make it off to your room, but your mother’s voice pulls you to a halt. 

“Ah-ah, not so fast. Back it up.”

You quietly sigh before coming back to the main part of the kitchen. She narrows her eyes on you and lightly crosses her arms. Your fight with her from yesterday is still fresh, and it makes holding prolonged eye contact difficult. 

“Are you seeing a boy?”

Your eyes widen on instinct. Your dad pauses the sip of his beer and watches you carefully. You try to hold together a poker face as best as you can, but you’re worried your shock is already seeping through. 

“Wha- A boy? Why would you think that?” The laugh you force out sounds too fake. And you’re a terrible liar.  You feel so hot all of a sudden. You wished Joel was still here to talk you in and out of shit. It was a skill of his you’d surely have to learn. 

“Well, we heard the door close really late last night after you walked Joel out. We were just wondering if... You know, there’s a special someone that you’re seeing.” Of course, she hoped you would tie yourself down to someone in Texas. 

“Yeah, did a boy pick you up after dinner or somethin’?” Your father presses, eyes narrowing protectively over you. “You seein’ a boy or not, honey?”

You didn’t want to lie, but you certainly weren’t ready to tell them the truth about you and Joel. 

“Uhm.” Your brain scrabbles for an answer and ultimately chooses poorly. “Sorta. I don’t know. Kind of?” 

Your mother tightens her lips in a smile and nods a little. “We’ll let it go for now, but-”

“God- Mom, please.” You groan and put your face in your hands, closing your eyes and wishing this nightmare was over. 

“But,” she annoyingly emphasizes, “If it gets serious, we want to meet this young man.” She says with a firm nod before turning back to your father and putting away the items in their shopping bags. 

Meet him? They want to meet the boy you’re seeing? What will they do when they find out the boy is actually a full-grown man, a forty-something-year-old with a teenage daughter? And that man was not only their friend and neighbor but Joel fucking Miller. Fuck. Your luck was running out. 

---

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

[lvverleavr]

Upstairs | JTK

༘ Jake x f reader

༘ 1.8k words

༘ warnings: language, oral (m receiving), slight? degration kink, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it pls)

You take your normal teasing a bit too far.

Jake was needy. He was good at hiding it to anyone else but to you it became blatantly obvious. Nights out always got to him. The low cut of your dress, the way you adjusted how you sat on his lap while you talked to various people. His hands would shoot to your hips, his forehead falling to the back of your neck. Sometimes you did it on purpose, sliding off his lap instead of standing straight up, your hand lingering on his leg while you talked to the people beside you. Usually he would be able to handle it, keep it together at least until you got to the front steps of your shared place. Tonight in specific was another story, he held you tight to his lap. He kissed the back of your neck, feeling your stomach muscles tighten under his arm. He slid your hair to the side, his lips centimeters from your ear, a soft whisper for only you to hear, “Don’t even think about trying anything tonight,” 

You let out a breath, only nodding in response. 

“Perfect,” He gently squeezed your side, motioning for you to get up as he walked over to the bar. 

The rest of the night left hairs on the back of your neck, his eyes always on you whenever they could be and you could feel the heat flooding your cheeks whenever you returned the gaze. Tonight was his turn to run you crazy and you were ashamed to admit his success. “Baby..” You sat in his lap, your knees hanging over his legs and his hand tightly gripping your thigh. 

“Shh I’m listening to this,” He squeezed your leg, as a man across the table shared some pointless story about his trip to the rocky mountains. 

“Jake..” You whispered in his ear, the tail end of his name coming out in a near whine, “I wanna go home…” 

You saw his jaw clench slightly as he ran his thumb up your thigh, stopping at the bottom of your dress, “shh” he said again, his gaze not shifting from the man across the table. 

You huffed slightly under your breath, he was making it painful for you and he knew it. You shifted in his lap slightly, hearing the hitched breath in his throat caused you to suppress a giggle. 

“Liz, wait up!” You called as she stood up from beside jake, excusing herself for a bathroom break “I’ll come with you, I need to fix this mascara disaster,” 

She smiled, “C’mon,” You slid yourself off Jake’s lap, your hand pressing gently on his thigh as you stood, leaning down in front of him and placing a kiss on his lips. “I’ll be right back,” You smirked at the look in his eyes. He could burn a hole right through you with it and you were living for it. You kissed him one more time, this time drawing away at a slower pace, his bottom lip lingering in between your two glossed ones. “Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone,” 

He didn’t say anything, his eye brows just sat slightly raised as he motioned for you to follow your friend. You smiled and ran after her, shuffling into the single stall bathroom together. 

You both fixed your makeup, chatting about whatever came to your mind throughout the night. “Ready?” You nodded, “I’ll be out in a second,” 

She smiled, leaving the bathroom as you closed the door tightly behind her, standing square in front of the mirror and letting out a deep breath. Here goes nothing. You carefully unzipped the front of your dress, exposing the near entirety of your red lace bra. You shook off any sense of uncertainty and took a picture, sending it to Jake with nothing else. 

Jake always played tough, acting like you’d get it once you got home but when it really came down to it he crumbled at your feet. You were curious and at this point you weren’t ashamed to admit it. You wanted to see Jake's harder side and it gave you a quick pulse to think about what he might do when you finally got him there. 

You stood in front of the mirror.

Read 11:45

Typing

Typing

Then nothing. Your breath hilted, shit. Then finally, 

Car, now. 

You got a rush of excitement, fixing your dress as you tried to contain your composure on the way to the car. “We’re leaving so soon?” You frowned as you got in the car. 

He glanced over at you, “Funny. Get in the car.” 

You smirked slightly, “What’s wrong Jakey-” Your smug look was quickly reset as he grabbed your face. His forefinger pressing against your jaw as his thumb pulled on your bottom lip. “You’re not fucking funny, now buckle and no more teasing because you’re fucking in for it tonight, got it?” 

You nodded, trying to hide an excited smile that was curling at the corners of your lips. “o-okay..” 

“Good,” he roughly dropped his grip, driving home in near silence, the only sound to break the breaths from each of you being the cool air from the cracked back windows. 

             You barely made it in the door before his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back to him. His breath was warm on your neck and it sent shivers up your spine. “Go upstairs, I want the dress off and you on your knees when I get up there,” His grip loosened, an invitation for you to make your way up the stairs but you didn't move. “Now,” He bit out, gently urging you towards the stairs.

           You dropped your dress on the bedroom floor, quickly checking your hair in the mirror before sitting on the bed. Your heart was beating from your chest to your fingertips and you loved every second of it. After a few minutes you heard the door click and him come in, his eyes immediately fixing on you, “What do you think you're doing?” 

          “You told me-”

          “I said on your knees, on the floor” 

          You felt your cheeks heat up, nodding a bit and repositioning yourself on the floor. 

          “You really had some fucking nerve tonight you know that?” He undid his belt, “I fucking warned you and you didn't believe me huh? Didn't think i meant it when i told you you'd fucking regret it-”

         “I just-” 

         He unzipped his pants, tossing them to the side before looking down at you, “You just what? Got impatient? I think that's what it is, well now you've got my fucking attention,” He pulled his boxers off, running himself along your lips with no warning, “What? Shy now baby?” 

     You shook your head, looking up at him as you took the head of him in your mouth, working further down as he gripped your hair tighter. 

        You steadied your pace, slowing down slightly to see how he'd react, only to be met with a tighter grip as he thrusted slightly against you. “S-Shit” He groaned, pulling you off of him, resulting in you letting out a small whine. 

      “I'm not done with you,” He smirked, grabbing your face tightly as he leaned down. “So that's what it is? You're just a fucking cock slut huh? Couldn't wait a couple fucking hours to get my attention,” He applied more pressure on your cheeks causing your mouth to open, “You want me to fuck you stupid is that it?” You nodded quickly, “Youre so fucking pathetic,” He scoffed mockingly, his eyes flickering to your mouth as you opened it more. “Are you serious?” He smirked, you nodded again. 

    “Please…” You whimpered, as his thumb lined your bottom lip, “please please please,” You begged further, pulling his thumb into your mouth and wrapping your lips tightly around it. 

    His mouth hung open slightly, “Get on the bed. On your stomach now,” He pulled his thumb slowly from your mouth, taking your hand and helping you up. “If you wanna act like a slut I’m gonna treat you like one.” 

   You felt the adrenaline rushing through your body as you climbed into the bed, a small yelp leaving your lips as he gripped your hips. His half hard cock pressing against your ass. You opened your mouth to speak but stopped at the feeling of him pushing inside you, his nails digging into your hips. Your head dropped forward, “fuck jake!” You moaned,

     He didn't stop, moving at a near brutal pace that would be sure to leave bruises on your ass, “shit baby-” He muttered, “so fucking good,” he grabbed a hold of your hair his motions seemingly in unison with every take it fuck take it that escaped his lips. He drew you both to your first and second highs, flipping you to your back before slowly pushing himself inside you again. 

    “Jake-” You whimpered,

    “You can do one more can't you baby?” He cooed, his thumb gently circling your sensitive clit, “You're always so good for me you can do one more. You wanted me so badly now you have me… you can’t take just one more?” His voice was dripping with a mocking sense of empathy as he leaned back. His never trailed from yours as he opened his mouth, a small trail of spit dropping on your already sensitive clit. You nodded, your hips gently bucking against his fingers.

    “Theres my fucking girl,” He smirked, his lips smashing against yours as he started back at a near barbaric pace. His lips connected to your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft skin as your nails dug into his back.  

    “fuck-” You whimpered, as he dragged his teeth up and down your neck, each bite and mark feeling deeper than the last, “Please please” You moaned with every thrust, driving you through another high. You loosened your grip on his skin, expecting him to slow to a stop but met with the same pace as before. You threw your head back against the pillow, tears brimming your eyes and pulling your eyeliner further down your cheeks until you both reached a final high. 

   You let out a small whine as he pulled himself apart from you, suddenly feeling empty. “Jake..” You said softly, 

   “I’m right here angel,” He whispered back, pulling you against him. Your breaths slowly evened as you turned to see him. His eyes were soft again and his kisses were gentle. They were full of love and care, “I didnt hurt you too bad did I?” He asked, placing a gentle kiss on the marks slowly showing along your neck.

   You shook your head, your hand resting gently on his cheek, “No baby.. I loved it, I promise” You smiled tiredly as you tilted his chin to look at you. His blinks were slow and long, a sweet smile plastered on his face as you placed a gentle kiss on his lips, “I love you.”

   “I love you,”

[cielcius]

bakugou x g/n!reader. drunk!fic, established relationship, injury, more crack than less hurt/more comfort, good ending (i promise)

if there is one thing katsuki has ever gotten mad at you for, it’s ripping his clothes.

he’s not talking about his pro-hero costume, no, they have multiple copies of his costume and the patterns down to the secret inside pockets kept on the inside of his pants. he’s talking about his regular clothes, “civilian clothes”, not all particularly that expensive and nothing really all that special, but certain clothes tend to go out of style.

it just so happened that you ripped the one shirt that went out of style years ago, now unattainable, and completely heart-wrenching for katsuki to watch through the tears in his eyes. and it all started with a guys’ night out:

“y/n?” you hum into the speaker of your phone, confusion slowly starting to cloud your mind when you hear todoroki’s voice contrary to the caller id showing your husband. “um, do you think you can come and pick bakugou up? he keeps... crying.”

a silent gasp falls from your lips, almost in disbelief. not that the sight of katsuki crying was unheard of, but in public? “oh my, i'm coming now but what happened?” you can hear todoroki sigh into the receiver, and it’s a long sigh. “uh, i think something with wanting you. everybody else is too drunk.”

“and you?”

“i wish i was.” ah, so todoroki is driving. “ok, i’ll be there in a bit. watch him please.” you hear something like a noise of protest as you’re putting on your shoes. “it’s kinda weird to watch bakugou cry but i’ll try.”

— 

arriving on the scene—the bar located halfway across the city—you’re greeted with the sight of katsuki on the ground, a beer bottle still in hand and his jacket acting as a blanket as he slumps back against todoroki’s legs. as you walk closer, you can hear the low drunken murmurs of your husband as he rambles to todoroki.

“’m miss y/n. wanna go to them. wan’ some ice cream. rocky road, no, mint chocolate. who eats sorbet? how do you even pronounce sorbet? where’s y/n?”

you can’t find yourself suppressing the smile that crawls onto your lips at katsuki’s drunken monologue, nodding at todoroki once he spots you. “oh good. you’re here.”

“who’s here? shut up, icyhot. ‘m talkin’ here.” kneeling down to katsuki’s line of sight, you watch as his eyes grow wide, brimmed in red and slightly swollen from the tears that had been spoken of over the phone. “katsuki,” you smile. “let’s go home.” nodding to todoroki again, you watch as he makes his way back into the bar while you make the venture back home with your husband slung heavily over your shoulders.

— 

nearly gasping for air, you toss your keys into the dish placed by the doorway, setting katsuki down before working on getting both your shoes off. “y/n,” you hum in response. “are we home yet?” you huff in amusement. “yes katsuki, we’re home and need to get you some water.”

“mm. ‘m thirsty.” with a little help on katsuki’s behalf, you get him into a chair at the table before grabbing a glass of water and setting it down in front of him. that was your first mistake.

the glass falls at the attempt katsuki makes to grab for it, shattering into pieces against the hardwood floors. “oh no, katsuki, are you okay?” without answering your question, katsuki starts to reach down at the pieces, grabbing at the large pieces before he winces.

blood, lots of blood. the palm of his hand starts to bleed an unrealistic amount of red, dripping onto the floor slowly. letting the piece of glass fall from his hand, katsuki, almost comedically, falls out of his seat and onto the ground. you quickly make your way around the broken glass in a frantic state of panic. that was your second mistake.

not wanting to lose any more blood, you rip a strip of cloth off the bottom of katsuki’s shirt and quickly wrap it around his palm, paying no mind to the onslaught of tears that were soon to come with your actions. 

“you,” you look up at katsuki, eyes searching his and widening when you find them glossy with tears. “you ripped my shirt. my shirt...” you open your mouth, but you’re speechless.

slowly, you come to grasp your senses. “i'm sorry, katsuki, but you’re bleeding. we should go to the hospital in case there’s glass in your hand.” you stand, about to help katsuki up until he turns his head away with a hmph. you raise your eyebrows in disbelief. did he just “hmph” you?

“no. ‘m not going with you.”

“but katsuki, you’re bleeding.” crossing his arms, he looks back at you with hellfire in his eyes. “i. don’t. care.” as if he was reviving his teenage rebellion, katsuki narrows his eyes into a glare, challenging you to talk back, and talk back you did.

“you’re hurt, katsuki. i outta leave you here if you keep acting like this.”

“then do it!” your jaw drops at his response and you swear your eye is twitching, ears not believing a single thing you were hearing and yet you watch as your husband gives the sass to go along with his attitude. before you can act further, katsuki stumbles to his feet, the cloth around his hand covered in clouds of blood but he walks it off as he makes his way to your bedroom.

following him, still in disbelief, you watch as katsuki pulls out your duffel bag before throwing in an odd mix of his and your clothes. “are we going somewhere? like the hospital.” at your remark, katsuki shoots a glare at you once again before going back to packing. “no, me. ‘m going to kirishima’s cause at least he won’t rip my clothes.”

with a bag full of who-knows-what, katsuki gets to the front door, picking up a shoe to go on the opposite foot before his nose scrunches up at the discomfort.  “katsuki, kirishima is the one friend most likely to rip your clothes.”

“then i'll go somewhere else. even if it has to be icyhot’s place.” though contrary to his words, you see katsuki shiver in distaste at having to stay at todoroki’s house. the sight makes you laugh tiredly. “katsuki,” you bend down to where katsuki is seated, trying to get his other shoe on. “i'm sorry i ripped your shirt.” at your apology, katsuki stops and sits limp with a pout.

“’s my favorite shirt.”

“i know.”

“they don’t sell them anymore.”

“i know. but katsuki,” he looks up at you. “your parents made that shirt.”

“my parents made it.” his pout grows deeper, shoulders sagging.

“and i'm pretty sure they can make one more for you.” like a spring, katsuki bounces back with a small smile and a glimmer in his eyes. “really? you think they’ll make me another one?” you nod, quietly laughing at your husband’s boyish giddiness. “of course. you’re their son, and they love you very much.”

katsuki’s smile lasts for a few seconds before faltering. “but, i love you.” you pat his shoulder. “i know, katsuki. i love you too.” even then, katsuki begins to sport a small pout. “but, i yelled at you.” you smile, almost sadly.

“it’s okay, katsuki. you didn’t yell but you were mad and it was my fault. no matter what, as long as we can apologize and own up to our mistakes, we’ll always be okay.”

“always?” you nod. “always.” you smooth the bangs of his hair back, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “let’s go to the hospital to make sure you’re okay, and then we can sleep in all day tomorrow. okay?” nodding quietly, katsuki lets you put his shoes on the right feet, grab the keys, and guide him to the hospital, smiling as you take his hand in yours with a smile.

[honorarysimp]

Chapter 3: Focus

series masterlist

You probably shouldn’t be drinking with fucked up lungs, but the cold beer soothes your throat.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Rasputin’s is a typical neighborhood spot: dark and dimly lit, populated mainly by a few local regulars. A pool table and a couple of dart boards occupy the back of the room, and a long bar with stools stretches along one side smack in the middle of the building.

The place is relatively quiet, Rocky wiping down the sleek wood with a dirty rag from behind the bartop.

You sit down your empty beer bottle, a frown growing on your face. Your lungs still sting from the smoke from two nights before, the sensation dulled only slightly by the alcohol. You take a deep breath, feeling the roughness in your chest start to make itself known again.

“Alcohol isn’t the answer” a familiar voice says from behind you, but the owner of it takes the seat at the bar next to you nonetheless. Rocky sets two new beers on the bartop in front of you both, you ignore the subtle surprise in his brow at the sight of you two sat at the bar together.

An old routine, an echo of the past, forgotten but familiar.

“No you see, that’s where you’re wrong” you start, grabbing the neck of the beer bottle and settling the cap just along the counter edge.

“Alcohol is the question, and the answer is yes” you say cheekily as you snap your hand down against the top of the bottle, the cap popping off and clattering to the ground.

“Rocky could’ve done that, you know” Mabel says flatly, even as she nudges her bottle towards you. You slide yours over to her in trade, repeating the action to the second bottle before shooting her a smug look.

“You’re just mad you could never get it down”.

“Our two days are up”, Mabel says, picking up the cold beer and taking a long, satisfying, gulp.

You hum, sipping your own beer as you keep your eyes forward, admiring the wall of liquor bottles behind the counter.

Mabel glances over at you as you hum in response, your relaxed demeanor sending a tiny thrill of irritation up her spine. She narrows her eyes at your profile, the small cut on your cheek catching her eye and making her heart clench involuntarily.

“You’ve got a cut on your cheek,” she deadpans, sipping her beer again.

“Accidentally ran into Paulie, Weeks is looking for me, go figure” you say without any concern, shrugging as you sip your beer again.

Mabel’s eyes flicker to your face at the mention of Paulie. She frowns, feeling a pang of nervousness shoot through her stomach.

“Weeks is hunting you, and he sent Paulie?” she asks, taking another swig from the bottle.

You laugh in amusement, setting your beer down as you finally turn your gaze to her “that slippery motherfucker ain’t good for anything other than being told what to do, don’t mean he’s good act executing it”.

Mabel can’t help the small chuckle she releases at your comment, taking a moment to marvel at how nonchalant you’re acting. But then again, that’s nothing new.

You both know the inevitable beat down you’ll get for what you did, but you’ll never go without giving them the slip a good few times. Which only ever seems to infuriate Weeks further, Mabel wonders when the day will come that he fully loses his patience with you.

That is a day Mabel prays she isn’t around to see.

She sips her beer once more, the alcohol causing a pleasant, warm feeling to settle in her chest and her limbs. She scoots back a little on the stool, resting her arms on the bartop.

“You’re not just the slightest bit worried?” she asks, analyzing you with a subtle flicker of her eyes.

“I’ll deal with Weeks once he’s had some time to cool down,” you say as you pick up your beer to drink from it, only pausing with the lip of it an inch from your mouth, “Charlie know you’re here?”

Mabel stiffens and almost chokes on her beer at the sudden question. Of course you would ask that, and of course she has been expecting it. She takes a moment to collect herself, trying to appear as natural as possible.

“Why does it matter?” She asks with a slight edge to her voice.

You lower the beer, a small laugh coming from you as you look at her almost knowingly. This is proven correct with your next statement, “he doesn’t know about us, you didn’t tell him we’ve got history”.

Mabel bristles, she hates, absolutely hates the way you look at her sometimes, like you can see straight through her bullshit and her walls and into her mind.

“History is all it is, and you seriously need to let that go” she scoffs, taking another large gulp of beer.

You hum, placing the beer back down before turning towards her slightly, amusement mixed with curiosity in your eyes.

“Why’d you come find me, sunshine”.

Mabel glances up at you, taken slightly off guard by the question. For a moment, she is distracted by her gaze settling on the small cut across your cheek. But then she catches herself and pushes that thought to the back of her mind.

“I just wanted to… make sure you were still alive after that reckless bullshit you pulled” she says after a moment. It’s a lie and she knows it, but like hell she’d ever admit it.

You look at her for a long moment, eyes flickering between hers, “why’d you let Charlie talk you into this? You were suppose to stay out of this shit, start community college”.

Mabel bristles again, her cheeks heating up under your gaze. She looks away, avoiding that intense eye contact as she takes another gulp of beer. Her jaw clenches and the warm feeling in her chest suddenly feels like a hot iron, the alcohol feeling like it’s slowly burning through her veins.

“Tom’s dad Ray has stomach cancer. The boat’s income pays for his treatment, so we have to get that boat back” she mutters, giving a half-hearted shrug as she keeps her gaze on the wall of liquor bottles.

You soften as you watch her, this new little sliver of information rolling around in your head as you process it. Mabel has always had the biggest heart, so easy to coax into doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. It’s one of the many qualities she has that made you fall for her what feels like just yesterday.

Two abnormal, wild teenagers, pushing each other through life with empty threats and endless late night therapy talks in the back seat of your car. A safe haven.

Mabel can feel your gaze on her, the heat of your eyes burning a hole through the side of her face. She tries to keep an unaffected, unbothered composure, but she’s itching to get out of this stupid bar. She feels claustrophobic being this close to you, and she can’t understand why the hell it’s pissing her off so much.

Or maybe she does, but she refuses to acknowledge it. And god, does that take her back.

She takes another large gulp of beer, almost finishing the entire thing, “I came to see if you were alive, clearly you are, so I’m going to go”.

Mabel quickly slides over the stool, placing a couple of bills on the counter as she grabs her car keys from her jacket pocket. She pushes through the door before you even have a chance to react, the cold night air stinging her still recovering lungs, but the ache helps to clear her mind.

It’s instinct, when she glances over her shoulder to see if you’d follow her out, but you don’t. Mabel knows you would, and she also knows why you won’t, it’s one of the many tallies to her board of regrets she has.

Mabel grips her keys tightly, her knuckles going white as thoughts of comparison between you and Charlie dance around inside her head. She can’t figure out why she thought it was a good idea to seek you for help in the first place.

Sure, she trusts you more than she trusts anyone else. You’ve had her back every time she’s ever needed it, even now when you shouldn’t give it to her. You’re reliable.

But you’re reckless and impulsive, you never listen, a core root to the downfall between you two. Charlie is safe and secure. He’s practically become her best friend, and he’s got something good going for himself. That she knows for certain.

All you two have is history, good and bad.

So why the hell did she feel this way? She can’t figure it out. But deep down, a tiny part of her knows exactly why.

Mabel jumps slightly as her phone in her jacket pocket starts to ring. She pulls the cold device from her pocket, Charlie’s name on the screen, and then answers it.

Only, she doesn’t even get to mutter out a ‘hello’ before a van cuts her off, the familiar faces of Paulie and Marky climbing out of the vehicle.

Mabel is taken completely off guard, her heart rate instantly doubling. Her phone falls from her grasp and clatters to the ground as Paulie and Marky grab her. Mabel lets out an alarmed shout as she struggles in their grasp, desperately trying to tug herself free.

“What the HELL?! LET ME GO!”

The world spins momentarily as she’s forced towards the van, head still dizzy from the previous night's events. Before she can even speak or protest, she’s shoved into the back of the idling vehicle, the door slammed behind her, effectively trapping her inside.

Mabel lands with a loud thump as she’s shoved into the back of the van. Her heart is practically drumming out of her chest due to a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Her eyes dart around the empty vehicle, trying to think of an escape plan.

Marky and Paulie join her in the back, and it’s making the fear twist up even tighter in her stomach. She swallows hard and slowly sits up, looking back at the now closed door with a mixture of trepidation and dread.

“We just wanna chat” Paulie says, always the shit talker. Marky sits by the door, large arms crossed over his chest with that signature brooding expression on his face.

Mabel’s eyes narrow at Paulie, her body bristling at the sound of his nasally voice. Her eyes flicker over to Marky, his intimidating presence almost overshadowing Paulie. She’s scared, terrified really. But she’s also pissed off and determined not to let them see her fear.

“Really. And kidnapping was the best fucking way to do it?” she says through gritted teeth.

“Tell us where Lucky is” Marky barks, his voice carrying authority, and the use of your nickname coming from his mouth specifically strikes fear through Mabel. It almost causes her to choke on the air in her lungs, her throat constricting and heart racing. But she can’t let that show. She cannot let them see her fear.

“How the hell should I know? We broke up a year ago, you know goddamn well it’s not my job to keep tabs on that pyro anymore”.

“Don’t bullshit us, we got people watching. Rumor has it Lucky was the one who burned the warehouse down” Paulie says just as Marky thumps his large fist against the wall separating the front of the van from the back, and not a moment later the vehicle starts moving.

Mabel swallows hard for a third time, cursing under her breath at Paulie’s comment. There’s no point pretending anymore, they know you had something to do with it.

Which means they know you did it because of her, and now she understands why she’s here. You use to worry about this happening back when you were together, them using her well being to lure you, which is why you never did anything too drastic.

Turns out your theory in believing Weeks wouldn’t make the connection you two were somewhat on speaking terms, civilly, was not a plausible theory. In fact, it merely was a stupid fucking idea.

Which is exactly why Mabel tries to stop you in the first place.

A new wave of fear washes over her again as she finally registers the van is moving, quickly realizing that she has no idea where they are taking her. She swallows hard again and tries to keep the fear and panic out of her voice, “where the hell are we going?”

They exchange a look, Marky with his more subtle flicker of amusement in his eyes, whereas Paulie has a wicked smile grow across his face.

“We got a rat to catch” he says, eyes locking on hers, “and you’re the bait”.

____________________________________________

The frantic, loud pounding on your front door is incessant, jarring you fully awake in an instant. You groggily sit up, slowly coming out of a deep sleep.

Rubbing your eyes, you stumble out of bed and make your way to the front door, cursing under your breath. The banging continues, growing even louder and more persistent. You reach the door and squint through the peephole.

Peering through, you see Charlie. His face is a mixture of frantic and angry, his mouth moving frenetically as he yells your name over and over. His voice is muffled by the door, but the panicked tone is evident enough.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before unlocking and opening the door, revealing Charlie on the other side. He’s disheveled and panting, looking at you with a mix of anger and desperation.

You scowl at him, your voice laced with irritation. "What the hell are you doing at my house?" you glance towards the horizon, the sky a mix of dark blue and grey. It's barely dawn.

Charlie looks at you, his voice demanding and almost accusatory. "Is Mabel here?" he asks, his eyes searching behind you as if hoping she'll magically appear.

You make a face at the question, confusion mixing with irritation. "No, Mabel isn't here. Why the hell would she be here?"

Charlie's panic visibly increases, his voice rising in pitch as he speaks. "I was on the phone with her last night," he says urgently, his words tumbling out rapidly. "I was just checking in, and the call just cut out, I’ve been calling her back but it just keeps going to voicemail."

You feel a pang of concern at his words, but you try to play it off, scoffing slightly. "I still don’t understand why you thought she would be here?" you reply, feigning nonchalance.

Charlie shoots you a deadpan look, his voice firm and even. "I'm not an idiot," he states, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Anyone with eyes can see you two have history. I'm not here to play games or deny that, but the point is Mabel is missing, I need you to help me find her”.

You straighten your stance, the guilt and respect for him building up inside you. You ask, your voice a mixture of concern and irritation, "Have you checked all of her regular spots?"

Charlie nods, listing off all the places he's already checked. "I've already been to her place, her mom's place, the bar, and I asked around with some of her friends, but no one's seen her or heard from her since last night."

You let her walk out alone, you should’ve gone after her, you did actually. Even after she told you not to ever again, after what happened months ago.

"I saw her last night at the bar," you tell him, your voice a mixture of worry and defensiveness. You feel a knot form in your stomach as Charlie's confusion deepens.

But she was already gone by the time you got outside, her car was still there, you figured she caught a ride from someone. Wouldn’t be the first time, you should’ve followed up anyways.

Charlie's expression hardens a bit as he looks at you, a tinge of hurt in his eyes. He asks you with a hint of resignation, "Did she come to see you, or did you ask to see her?"

You should’ve known better, you let your emotions get the best of you like always. How could you be so thoughtless?

You frown at him, your thoughts continuing to spiral as frustration rises in your voice. "That's not what matters right now," you snap back, before ducking back inside to fetch your shoes, hastily pulling them on.

Charlie follows you inside, his voice insistent as he repeats his question. "Just answer the goddamn question," he insists, his eyes still on you.

You rise to your full height, your voice lowering and growing more dangerous. "What’s important right now is finding Mabel," you say, your gaze locking with his as you face off against each other.

You maintain eye contact, your expression unwavering. Even if Mabel did slip off to come see you behind Charlie's back, you're not about to tell him that.

You look at him seriously and say, your voice urgent, "If she's missing, that means she's in danger. The longer she's gone, the harder it'll be for us to find her, does that make sense to you?"

Charlie nods, still looking a little upset in the moment but seeming to put it aside. His expression hardens into determination, and he looks at you. "So what are we going to do?" he asks.

You stride out the door, determined and focused, this time he’s right on your heels. You instruct Charlie as you walk, your voice firm. "Go check at her Aunt and Uncle's. Sometimes she hangs out there, it’s two houses down from Nunes, it’s got a pelican painted on the mailbox”.

Charlie nods, his expression still somber but focused. "Alright, where are you going?" he asks, following you closely.

Your expression is steely as you reply, your tone a bit menacing. "I'm going to pay a visit to a few people," you say, your meaning clear. Charlie's unease increases as he catches your implication.

Charlie's questioning continues as you approach your car. "You think they took her?" he asks, his uneasiness now bordering on concern.

The atmosphere is thick with tension, the air stifling with the humidity. The sun is slowly rising, casting long shadows along the ground. The silence is punctuated only by the chirping of cicadas and the occasional rustling of leaves.

You meet Charlie's gaze, the fire and danger evident in your eyes. Your voice is sharp and cold, the next words pushed through your clenched teeth.

"If they did? For their sake, they better not hurt her”.

____________________________________________

Tires screech to a halt as you pull up at the docks, the sound of the engine dying abruptly.

You forcefully open the door and step out of the vehicle, your movements sharp and purposeful.

As you approach Weeks' boathouse, your steps are quick and brisk, your fists clenched at your sides. The docks are mostly empty at this early hour, the only sounds the creaking of the boats and the distant cry of seagulls.

You spot Marky standing guard outside the front door of Weeks' boathouse. He looks at you as you approach, a familiar expression of disappointment on his face.

Nothing new there, he never did understand what Weeks sees in you. Not that you cared, you never liked Marky that much anyways.

You stride up to Marky, your worry and anger mounting. The atmosphere is tense, almost electric. You ask him tersely, "is Mabel here?"

He just steps aside, silently granting you entry, which should’ve been a red flag. But your desperation is boiling over.

You barge past him, shouldering him aside as you enter the boathouse. Your eyes scan the area urgently, searching for any signs of trouble, however you simply spot Weeks sitting at the dining table with Mabel.

Another red flag, if you were thinking rational.

“Mabel” you mutter, relief beginning to wash over you as your eyes meet. However, just as you move towards her, strong hands grab you from behind.

At the same time, Paulie materializes behind Mabel, forcefully pushing her back into her chair as she stands to go to you.

You struggle against the hands that restrain you, trying to wrest yourself free from the iron grip as you’re forced to your knees. You turn your gaze back up to Mabel, your voice filled with concern.

"Mabel, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" you somehow manage to keep your tone even, and despite your own predicament, your primary concern is for her safety.

Paulie tightens his grip on her, holding her firmly to the chair as she resists his restraining grasp. Mabel shoots Paulie a look of disgust before responding to your question. "Physically, I'm okay," she says, her voice strained yet defiant.

Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible move to make, every option to take, but everything you come up with has its own risks and potential consequences. Time seems to slow as your heart pounds in your chest, each beat like a drumbeat of trepidation.

Weeks rises to his feet and starts a slow clap, his eyes flickering between you and Mabel.

His tone is laced with mock amusement as he speaks, “well, well, well. I guess history truly does repeat itself”.

The atmosphere is thick with tension, the air practically crackling with anticipation. Your eyes are fixed firmly on Mabel, your mind racing as you try to find a way out of this situation that doesn't end with her getting hurt. Every nerve in your body is taut, every muscle coiled tight. Panic and dread well up in your chest, the realization that Mabel's safety is directly tied to how you play this only adding to the suffocating feeling of helplessness.

She shouldn’t be here for this, you should’ve just faced the reaper when you’d done what you’d done, and now her safety is on the line.

“Lucky for you, we’ll consider this Mabel’s immunity finally reaching its end” Weeks says, grabbing her chin forcefully and trying to turn her face towards him. But she resists, jerking her head out of his grasp. She glares at him defiantly, refusing to be manhandled.

You react in an instant, lunging forward in an attempt to get to Mabel. But Marky's grip is firm, holding you down on your knees. You snarl at Weeks, your voice filled with anger and panic “don't you dare fucking touch her!"

Weeks strolls over to you, his smile slowly fading as he reaches you. With a cruel twist of his face, he roughly grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up and forcing you to look him in the eye.

Don’t fight it, don’t make it worse. Don’t. Calm.

Weeks stands towering above you, his grip on your hair holding you tightly in place. He sneers down at you, his eyes cold and calculating. "I haven't forgotten what you've done," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

"And as punishment for both of you, I’m going to have her watch as you receive your consequences for defying me, since you so clearly enjoyed having her watch last time you pulled this shit”.

Before you can utter a word in protest, Weeks’ fist comes down hard on your jaw, the firm grip on your shoulders releasing and sending you dropping to your hands and knees. The force of the impact jars through your body, leaving you momentarily stunned. The pain only fuel your anger, your eyes narrowing as you glare up at him defiantly.

Despite the humiliation, you force a smile, looking up at Mabel. Through clenched teeth, you manage a witty retort, "this wasn't exactly how I imagined being on my knees in front of you again”.

Mabel lets out a reluctant laugh, her eyes welling up with tears as she watches Marky yank you back to your feet. Weeks casually rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, a cruel gleam in his eyes as he prepares to deal out your punishment.

Just take it. Take it for her. They won’t hurt her because of you if you just take it.

You meet Mabel's gaze and give her a reassuring nod, your voice filled with determination as you speak. "It's gonna be okay," you reassure her, your voice firm despite the precarious situation “you know I've been through worse than this. I'll be fine."

Mabel tries to look away, her expression twisted with anguish and helplessness. But Paulie roughly grabs her face, forcing her head back around to watch as Weeks lands a heavy blow to your gut. The impact sends shockwave through your body, doubling you over in pain.

Weeks gives you a rough pat on the cheek, a mocking smirk on his face. Your head is spinning as Marky pulls you back to a standing position. You're struggling to catch your breath, gasping for air, the force of the blow having left you dazed and disoriented.

It’s not like your lungs have had much time to fully recover from inhaling so much smoke from the fire, and it’s in this moment you realize this time might not be as tolerable as the times before.

Weeks sneers at you, his eyes filled with a chilling anger. "Did we not learn our lesson the first time you burned my shit?" he sneers. You, in spite of the pain and the dangerous situation, defiantly respond by spitting in his face, a mixture of defiance and rage fueling your actions.

“It was pretty fucking easy considering you were the idiot that left it all unguarded”.

Weeks wipes your spit off his face with an air of cool detachment, “or maybe, you’re predictable, and I pulled the guys to test your loyalty”. Then, in a swift move, he cracks the backside of his hand across your face. The impact would’ve sent your world spinning, but Marky's firm grip on you prevents you from falling.

Mabel screams at them to stop, fighting to break free from Paulie's grip. "Please, stop! Stop it!" she cries out, desperation and anger filling her voice as she struggles against Paulie's hold.

Weeks ignores her pleas, his focus entirely on you. He smirks at your pain, clearly enjoying seeing you in such a vulnerable position. "Not so tough now, are you?" he taunts, his voice dripping with condescension.

Weeks grabs your throbbing face, his grip harsh and unyielding. He roughly jerks your head up, forcing your dazed eyes to lock with his. He sneers at you, his voice cold and mocking as he asks, "do you need more enlightenment on who you're supposed to be loyal to?"

Your eyes dart to Mabel, seeing her shaking her head at you desperately, silently pleading with you to comply with their demands and avoid further punishment. But your defiant nature wins over, and you refuse to submit, your expression hardening with determination.

You meet his gaze defiantly, spitting out your response. "Go fuck yourself, Pete," you hiss through gritted teeth. A cruel smile forms on Weeks' face as he hears your response.

"Wrong answer," he says with mock regret, then lands another heavy blow to your gut.

Weeks' voice drips with malice as he sneers, "Looks like your luck has run out."

With that, he lands another brutal blow, your world going black as Mabel's desperate cry of your name is the last thing you hear before losing consciousness.

____________________________________________

The atmosphere is thick with tension, the only sounds being the soft rustling of the damp towel and your shallow breaths.

Neither of you have spoken a word since Mabel began cleaning the blood off you. Your eyes are glued to her face, your chest filled with a cocktail of pain, anger, and helplessness. She’s also angry, frustrated, the sight of your injuries clearly affecting her deeply.

Your gaze wanders after it’s established nothing will be said until she’s done, taking in her little loft apartment. Not much has changed since the last time you were here over a year ago.

The changing divider that blocks off the door from the rest of the room. One queen bed which you’re both currently sat on, the body mirror leaned against the wall across from it, two windows covered by curtains and cardboard on the adjacent wall. Small bookshelf in the corner- some of your books you left still rest within. The nightstand with that small lamp, a desk just to the right of the windows, photos on the wall-

Your head movement is halted as she gently catches your face, her touch borderline tender. "Keep still," she murmurs, her voice soft and filled with concern. Despite the tenseness of the situation, her touch is careful, underlining her worry for you.

Her thumb gently dabs ointment at the blood on your lip, the coolness of the damp towel providing some relief. Her eyes remain fixed on your face, studying the bruises and cuts that mar your skin. You can see the concern etched in her features, despite her attempts to hide it.

Your mind drifts back to the last time you were here, in this very room, sitting on her bed while she tended to your wounds after yet another beating from Weeks. The memory of the argument that broke out between you two echoes in your mind, the heated words and the bitter year of silence that followed.

In a way, you had a right to be upset with her back then for what she did, the betrayal. It hurt, more than anything you’ve ever felt, those deeper wounds aching as you gaze into those soft brown eyes.

But then again maybe she is right, you hadn’t been honest about your past back then, you tip toed around it. Ashamed. Even when she showed you everything down to her very soul, her roots to her branches, her dreams to her fears.

How did you ever walk away? How did you ever let her walk away?

A gentle finger taps your uninjured cheek, jolting you out of your thoughts, bringing your focus back to the present moment. You turn your gaze to meet hers, your expression a mix of fatigue and guilt.

Mabel looks at you, her voice soft and full of both concern and familiarity. "Stop it," she says, almost as if she can read your mind. She continues wiping the blood from your face with the damp towel, her touch gentle yet confident.

Her actions betray years of knowing each other, years of tending to each other's injuries. Despite the tenseness of the situation, the two of you share a small smile, which grows on both your faces even when you try not to.

"Sorry”, your eyes dropping down to your lap, voice low and filled with regret. Mabel responds with an apology of her own, her tone just as soft as she continues to clean your face. "Me too," she murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, one corner of her mouth quirking in the smallest sign of regret.

Silence falls again, the weight of your mistakes and the current predicament hanging heavily in the air.

You try to lighten the mood, attempting to pivot the conversation to a safer topic. You glance around her room and say, "nice place you got” as if you’d never been here before.

Mabel responds by gently swatting your chest and rolling her eyes, a slight smirk on her lips. "Shut up," she mutters, her tone laced with a mixture of exhaustion and affection.

Your eyes lock, and in that moment, a flicker of intimacy passes between the two of you. The chemistry, the connection, is undeniable, an invisible tether that still ties you together despite the past and the mistakes you've both made. It's not something that changed or faded over time; it's a bond that persists, a testament to the strength of your relationship and the unspoken understanding between you.

You feel a sudden rush of boldness, a recklessness that prompts you to test the line that has been so firmly drawn the last year. Your heart races as you take a mental step forward, wondering how far you can push this, how much you can get away with before the boundaries solidify again.

Your eyes never leave hers as you subtly lean toward her, your hand slowly inches towards hers. Your index finger hooks around hers, the one that still loosely holds the damp towel, stained red with your blood. The touch is small, barely there, but it feels like a step across the chasm that has separated you for so long.

Her hand doesn't pull away immediately, the familiar warmth of her skin sending a jolt through you. But then, she shakes her head, her eyes giving you a look that is both pleading and threatening. 'Don't you dare' is written all over her face, a warning that speaks volumes, the burning in your throat this time isn’t from being poisoned with smoke.

You play it off, forcing another small smile as you take the towel from her hand. "Thank you," you murmur, pretending as if that was what you were actually aiming for all along.

The tension between you is palpable, the air practically crackling with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. But then again, when isn’t it with you two?

You stand up from the bed, your movements almost mechanical as you start picking up the blood-soaked towels she’d discarded on the floor. You can feel her gaze on you, heavy and intense, but you don't acknowledge it. Your eyes are fixed on the task at hand, your mind trying to distract itself from the weight of her stare.

Mabel watches you, her mind conflicted as a pang of contradicting emotions hits her hard in the chest. On one hand, she can't deny how good it feels to have you here again, in her space.

The familiarity of your presence brings a strange sense of comfort, a sense of belonging that she has missed so dearly. On the other hand, she hates it. She hates that you still have this effect on her after everything that's happened.

She stands up, her hands absently rubbing against her legs as if to wipe away the feelings that threaten to surface. Her voice is soft as she looks at you, a mix of concern and tension in her tone.

"Will you- are you gonna be okay?" she asks, her eyes searching your face when you turn to her at the sound of her voice.

You glance back at her, your expression carefully neutral as you respond. "Yeah, I'll be fine." The words leave your lips, but neither of you are convinced.

As you head for the door, an inexplicable need to stay claws at your chest, a desperate urge to turn around and stay forever.

The air is charged with a tension that is almost deafening, a silent battle taking place between the two of you. Mabel can feel the same struggle within her, the burning urge to ask you to stay, to not let you go this time.

But there’s Charlie, and not to mention, how nuclear you two are together.

You turn back to face her, your hand on the doorknob. Your voice is soft but firm as you remind her of the urgency of the situation.

"There's a clock ticking, you know," you say. "The guys need to find that product soon, or Weeks will be coming for heads."

Her expression falters slightly, a look of worry and resignation crossing her face. She knows that you're right, knows the danger you all face. But there's something in the way you say it, a sense of finality, that has her heart clenching in her chest.

There are words are on the tip of your tongue, but you don't say them. Instead, you do just what you did last time, leaving without a backwards glance.

The sound of the door closing behind you feels like another nail being driven into the coffin of what is, and what was.

And Mabel? She doesn’t go after you. Why would she?

It never made a difference before.

previous, next