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ja3yun · 6 months

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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.6

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (m. rec), fingering, dirty talk, switch!ynhoon leaning on dom!hoon, mentions of panic attacks and anxiety, unloving mother, confrontation, anything else lmk! ch. 6 synopsis: after sunghoon's injury, you're making it your mission to care for him, but a surprise visits from his mum and shocking revelations lead you to question everything you have ever felt. wc: 16.6k previous | masterlist | next a/n: surprise! i am gifting you this all a day early <3 i have so much to do over the weekend so you can thank my work for scheduling me crazy hours for this early update. ynhoon stans...i'm sorry. this chapter is a rollercoaster so buckle yourselves in. thank you so much for the love on the last chapter, seeing all your reactions to minhee was...yeah. again, likes, reblogs, feedback is always appreciated!

The day after the incident, you finally summon the courage to visit Sunghoon.

You’ve been in an emotional battle with your head and your heart, wrestling with the decision of whether to give him space or to be there for him during this setback in his career. As his girlfriend, you know you should show support when he needs it most, so you listen to your heart.

However, you’re still conflicted about one thing: whether to reveal Minhee's involvement in the reason for his injury. The whole ordeal yesterday has left a bad taste in your mouth. Minhee and your mum had planned this sabotage but you have no clue why.

You sense there's more to this than meets the eye, something you don't comprehend, so you’re choosing to keep it hidden for the time being. It's not an easy decision because you've never lied to Sunghoon before but your mind rationalises it as a temporary withholding of information rather than a flat-out lie.

On your way out, you double-check you have everything, but while you’re preoccupied with checking your trusted lip gloss is in your bag, you bump into Minhee.

The atmosphere around you is thick with tension as your eyes meet. You’ve spent the entire night going back and forth in your mind as to why Minhee would do this, mostly because you want to believe he’s a decent human being who wouldn’t sabotage someone else for his own success.

That’s the part you can’t wrap your head around, the idea that this is for his benefit because there is nothing to gain except getting Sunghoon benched for Nationals.

Would he stoop so low just to get a better chance at winning first place? It’s so out of character for him. Minhee has always worked exceptionally hard to get the things he deserves, which was evidenced only in the last month with the extra hours practising and perfecting his routine. No logical person would put in hours and hours of grafting just to take the easy way out and eliminate their biggest competition. Even when you both watched the documentary about Tonya Harding, he was the first to say how stupid it would be for anyone to sabotage another skater because the ban would never be worth it if you really loved the sport.

Maybe you just don’t know your brother as well as you think you do, maybe this is his true side coming out. After all, he didn’t know about making it on the Olympic team if he skated well yesterday, and since Minhee’s dream is to be placed on the South Korean skating team, getting Sunghoon out of the way is a sure way to guarantee a spot - he could have conjured up this scheme with your mum.

It’s these conflicting thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind as you look him up and down. Regardless of any reason, he still did what he did, so you snub him, walking past in haste.

“Y/N, where are you going? Why do you have a bag?” he questions your pink overnight bag that you use for long weekends away at Rina’s. You ignore him and boost down the flight of stairs to get your shoes on, “Are you going to his?”

The tinge of sadness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, it’s similar to yesterday although anger has seemingly flushed from him, replaced with a guilty conscience.

“You know I am so why are you asking?” you spit back.

“Are you going to tell him?” he queries quietly.

You can practically feel his heart gaining speed as he asks the question. He knows if you tell Sunghoon, his career is effectively over. It’s why you have such conflicting thoughts about telling your boyfriend because until you know the whole story, is it really worth ending Minhee’s future like that so easily?

Standing up, you grab your coat, “Why shouldn’t I?” The question is posed to let Minhee tell you exactly what is going on, it’s up to him to let you in on the reason for his actions.

He rubs his face in his hands and shuts his eyes, you can see he’s fighting himself, “I…I don’t know.”

“Really?” you scoff, “You aren’t even going to give me a reason not to say anything? Then what was this all for, Minhee?”

He doesn’t answer, hanging his head down in shame. It’s the glimpses of him like this that are what are going to stop you from telling Sunghoon. The look on his face wasn’t just guilt he got caught but for his actions.

“Tell Mum I’ll be home in a few days,” With that, you walk out and slam the door behind you.

You take two buses to get to Sunghoon’s side of town which takes about an hour if there’s traffic but luckily for you, there wasn’t. As you stand outside Sunghoon's flat, your heart leaps with excitement and concern. The rhythmic beat of rock music in your headphones works as a distraction. Sunghoon taught you this trick when you first started to hang out, the loudness of the base helps ease your mind, especially if it was flooded with any nagging thoughts about Minhee.

You've come all this way to be by Sunghoon's side, realising that your attention should be on him rather than getting caught up in the complexity of Minhee's situation. You slightly curse yourself for not just being with him earlier, you should have been here as soon as he got home yesterday.

Chapping the door, you wait for someone to answer; It’ll either be Jay or Jake because you know Sunghoon will be resting, or at least you hope he will be, your boyfriend always had a habit of defying instructions. The loophole he found to start this whole relationship was a huge giveaway.

The door opens, revealing Jake on the other side. His eyes are filled with relief as he recognises your face, "Hey," he says with a small smile, "Sunghoon's resting, but he'll be glad to see you."

You nod in understanding, a part of you thought maybe the almost 16-hour silence would have put him in a sour mood with you. As you enter the quaint flat, you remove your earbuds and catch sight of Jay in the living room, absorbed in his reading. The subdued atmosphere tells you that everyone is attempting to retain a sense of normalcy in the aftermath of recent events.

It’s funny, you didn’t consider how his closest friends would have reacted, this must be hard for them too considering the three of them are inseparable, each in their own field of sports; Jake in football and Jay in rugby, all of them meeting in the same major at University. You’re appreciative of them, they could empathise with him in ways you couldn’t.

The short walk to Sunghoon's room feels like an eternity as your mind races with thoughts about how to comfort him. How do you approach this? Especially knowing what Minhee did.

Why are you always harbouring a secret from someone you love?

You gently push the door ajar, revealing Sunghoon lying on his bed, his leg bandaged and propped up on a pillow. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, meet yours, and a small smile plays on his lips as he registers your presence, “Baby,” he exhales softly and outstretched his arms.

Closing the door, you walk over to him and envelop him in a tight squeeze. You let the gravity of the situation sink in as he nuzzles his nose into your neck, it wasn’t just his ankle that was hurting but his heart.

“I should have come earlier, I’m sorry,” You confess, drawing back to sit on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t know if you needed space or not.”

Sunghoon shuffles to sit up straighter, wincing as his ankle subsequently moves with him, “I get it, Sweets, really. You don’t have to apologise…it’s a weird situation, y’know?” He widens his eyes for a moment, inviting understanding without verbalising the implications. It was a fucked up scenario, Sunghoon hasn’t once had an injury in his whole career.

Interlocking your fingers with his, you ask the dreaded question, “What did the doctor say?”

“I have 4 days to live,” he jokes in an attempt to make the air lighter between you both but you don’t find it very amusing. You know he’s hurting inside and you can’t stand when he hides it. Sunghoon is strong and dependable but he rarely admits any vulnerability unless it’s got anything to do with you.

Slapping his chest, you narrow your eyes, “Shut up, I’m serious, Hoonie.”

Sunghoon sighed and looked down at the damaged ankle, “It was just a twist, I should be okay in 1 to 2 weeks but that can take me right up to Nationals. I can’t be on my ass for that long, Y/N.” Anger seeps into him, almost as if he’s realising the severity of what lack of training will do to his chances at Nationals.

Can he even go to Nationals now? Did Minhee and your mum get what they wanted? Maybe you should just tell him about Minhee, an eye for an eye and all that other stuff.

But you need to investigate first and figure it all out before you jump the gun on this. It’s difficult considering Sunghoon is in front of you, cursing at himself for not stopping the practice, this wasn’t his fault.

As his mouth keeps moving, you slowly start to tune back into what he’s saying once his skate is mentioned, “You saw my skates the night before, they were perfectly fine!” he exasperates, pointing to them at the bottom of the bed. Somehow, being confronted with the evidence of your brother’s crime brings a moistness to your mouth as if you could vomit right there.

The way your face goes a little paler causes Sunghoon to stop his rant, his hand bringing your face to meet his, “Sweets? What’s wrong?” You’ve spent so much time with him that you’re starting to curse how he can read you easily. If he catches a flash of guilt or withholding in your eyes, he’s never going to drop it.

Standing up with purpose, you advance over to where the skates are, curling your fingers around them. "I think having these in your line of sight isn't healthy for you mentally. I'm going to put them away," you say, opening his cupboard and tucking them in. In actuality, you feel compelled to throw them away, realising that their main purpose now is to serve as a horrible memory. With your back to him, you muster the bravery to bring up the topic of Nationals.

“Coach Lee said if I rest it and can get back on the ice just before the competition, hammer in a few practice sessions and see how it goes since I’ve already officially qualified anyway,” The perks of being the best skater in the city, you suppose, “But Coach Kim says it’s too risky and that I could break my ankle if I go back too fast.”

"Did the coaches say anything about Nationals? Can you compete?" The avoidance of eye contact becomes a shield, a method to ease the weight of the question from your chest. The guilt you harbour is overwhelming as if you were the one responsible for shattering his skate.

It seems you’ve not been the only one fighting with conflict.

"What are you going to do?" you inquire, returning to his side, your hand soothingly rubbing his thigh, a silent promise of support regardless of his decision.

He bites his lip, determination sparking in his eyes. "I'm going to Nationals, I don't care," he declares with unwavering resolve. "I need to do this. I've finally rediscovered my passion, and I can't bear to watch it disappear again, Y/N. I know that if I miss Nationals and the Olympics, I’ll lose the love I have for it, I feel it."

Nodding in understanding, you convey your unwavering belief in him, your smile a testament to your faith. Taking his hand, you bring it to your lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckles, the action makes his heart skip.

For Sunghoon, the past few hours have been consumed by self-loathing, but your presence breathes new life into him. He hadn’t decided to try to get fit for Nationals right after the doctor gave him the news, it was only after he saw you walk through that door. You were the reason he wanted to prove he could do it because you always brought him back to life.

"Can I help with anything?" you offer, breaking the tender moment.

"You can give me a kiss," he cheekily responds, a playful smirk gracing his face.

Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, you shuffle closer to his side and lean in, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. The synchronicity of your hearts creates a natural rhythm as they engage in their own intimate conversation.

Grabbing your sides, he guides you to sit over his lap, the new angle giving you more leeway to fully capture his lips, melting them with yours. His hands snake under your top, rubbing the skin of your back, grabbing lightly at your sides.

“I love you, Hoonie,” you murmur into his mouth and you feel him smile happily.

“I love you so much more, you’ve got no clue,” he presses your chest flush to his creating little distance between you. As he goes to buck his hips up, the pressure on his ankle makes him cuss and yelp out in pain.

Drawing back, you look behind you, “Sunghoon! Can you watch your ankle please?” You argue with him, trying to climb off but he holds you there in his lap.

"No, don't," he whispers, stealing another kiss, "I need this ankle to heal up quickly." Groaning, he shifts it into a more comfortable position.

"You'll be back on the ice in no time, baby," you offer a reassuring smile, but he looks at you with confusion.

“I wasn’t talking about that. I mean so I can fuck you,” The tender moment takes an unexpected turn as he expresses a different desire. The tone of his voice was offended, Sunghoon didn’t understand why that also wasn’t your first thought. Sometimes, he really is just a man.

His admission catches you off guard, and you playfully chide him, "You can wait, Hoonie." Cradling his face in your arms, you rub his nose with yours.

He doesn’t seem to like that idea.

______

"Hoonie, baby, do you want a cup of tea?" you call out from the kitchen.

You've been taking care of Sunghoon for the past five days, tending to every one of his needs. Part of this is due to your position as his girlfriend, but there is a deeper purpose lurking beneath the surface. You are well aware that your attentiveness is tinged by a desire to make up for your brother's mistake. You don't know why you're carrying the burden for your brother but you're living with it.

As you hear Sunghoon's ‘yes please’ response, you set about preparing the warm brew. The rhythmic clinking of the spoon against his mug becomes a backdrop to the quiet surrounding the flat.

“Y/N, can you make me one too?” Jay asks while shoving his gym bag on the counter beside you, a flask in his hand.

Accepting the flask you fill it up with some tea from the pot and add a dash of vanilla milk, just how he likes it.

Living with the three boys for nearly a week hasn’t been as challenging as you once thought. They’re respectable, clean enough, and have created unspoken boundaries to make sure you are as comfortable as possible. Obviously, you knew Jay and Jake before you moved in temporarily to look after your boyfriend but this continuous time with them has made you realise that Sunghoon surrounds himself with only good people, a reflection of his character.

Handing Jay back the flask, he raised it in a silent expression of thanks before walking away, “See you both later. I made extra lunch so eat it before it goes off,” he points to the pot of curry on the stove before he twirls out the door.

Entering the room with the steaming cup in hand, you find Sunghoon gazing out the window, lost in thought. He has been getting better at a rapid pace, now able to stand confidently on his ankle, albeit not for a long period of time, particularly when he’s standing still, however, the progress he’s making for his recovery is astounding.

He had a home visit from the doctor at Belmore to check his ankle and he said he might as well be a superhero with how well he is doing. He also said Sunghoon had a high likelihood of getting back in the rink for Nationals, as long as he kept doing what he was doing.

His attention turns from the outside world to you as he graciously accepts the tea from your hands, "Thanks, Sweets," he murmurs, planting a tender peck on your lips before making his way back to the bed. Seating himself at the edge, he glances over at you, curiosity in his eyes as you plonk down on his desk chair.

"Are you going to class today? Jay could have given you a lift," he inquires, taking a sip of his tea, his gaze lingering over the rim as he watches you.

You've willingly abandoned everything - school, work, even Rina and Allen. The neglect of your actual life becomes a mere consequence of your guilt-ridden state; until Sunghoon is better, focusing on anything else seems impossible. You've informed your professors that you're completing all assignments from home, citing an illness that keeps you from attending classes. Another lie to add to your bank.

Shaking your head, “No, not today. I’m all caught up anyway.”

With a sceptical look, he puts the mug down and walks over to you, each of his arms on the rests of the chair, effectively trapping you in, “Sweets, I love you and I love that you’ve taken care of me this week, but you’ve done enough. You can go to University and I promise I won’t break.”

Deep down, you know he’s right but your guilty conscience aside, this was also a lot more fun. The ability to spend everyday with Sunghoon, waking up to him and making him breakfast in exchange for him making dinner, the random shows you’ve both binged and laughed at, learning every intricate detail of him - it’s been the best time you’ve had in years. It gave you a glimpse into the future of what it would be like to live together.

You meet Sunghoon's gaze, your eyes reflecting a mixture of reluctance, "I know," you concede, "but it's been...nice. Taking care of you, being here with you.”

“Trust me, I appreciate it more than anything, but I’m fine I promise,” Sunghoon tries to give you some comfort by looking into your eyes and assuring you. You can feel his genuine care for you and your own life. He watches your eyes shift as you look away from him, “It’s not just me, is it? There’s something else going on?”

People on Twitter cry out for a man as attentive as him, they crave it because men these days don’t notice anything. Taylor Swift and Adele aren’t top artists on people’s Spotify because men are great at listening.

But right now you wish he wasn’t so attuned to you, that he didn’t know you so well because you don’t have the energy, nor the words, to explain to him that you know he’ll be fine, you just can’t face going home.

Because that was the real issue here, wasn’t it?

You can lie to yourself all you want but that house is the last place you want to be. That house is a labyrinth of unresolved issues. Minhee's actions have put you in a difficult position with your boyfriend, secrets linger in the cracks of the house that only he and your mother are privy to, and you feel like a stranger in your own home. Here, in Sunghoon's space, you can simply pretend that the world consists solely of you and him. It's a comforting illusion, shielding you from complicated family drama.

Sunghoon bends down, despite the strain on his ankle, trying to get eye level with you,

“Baby, you can talk to me.”

"You need your eyebrows fixed," you say quickly, seeking to change the subject. His astonished reaction causes you to quickly break into laughter, "They're getting a little wild, Hoonie."

He tilts his head and furrows his brows. "You want me to believe that my eyebrows are what's bothering you, not something a little more serious?"

You eventually stare into his eyes, mentally pleading with him to drop it and accept that your concern is indeed about his brows. The last thing any of you need is for you to reveal the information you're keeping hidden; it might jeopardise the calmness of this week and, potentially, your entire relationship.

His eyes soften and a small but understanding smile tugs at his lips. He relents, knowing you’ll speak to him sooner or later about your worries, “Alright, come on then,” he slaps his palms against his knees and slowly rises, ignoring the shooting pain that courses from his ankle to his knee. It might only have been a twist but fuck did it hurt.

With sparkling eyes and relief, you follow him into the bathroom, excited to get to work on his brows. It might have been a quick scapegoat to change the course of conversation but his brows did actually need to be tidied up. In only a week they’ve become unruly, the true curse of bushy, perfect, luscious eyebrows.

Opening the cabinet door, he reaches for a new hair shaper; you had bought the pack for yourself just in case that one chin hair made an appearance while you stayed here. He goes to hand it to you but yanks it away before you can grab it, “If you even think of shaving them thin I will 100% break up with you,” his tone tells you he’s joking but his eyes are deadly serious.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say with a lighthearted giggle and stand in front of him, putting a few dollops of his moisturiser on your fingertip before rubbing it on the area you plan on attacking. There aren’t many straggling hairs but his eyebrows are a trademark, you can’t let them sit even the slightest bit unruly.

Taking the razor you pop the cap off and reach up to sculpt his brows. Sunghoon is tall but it’s never really been an issue until now as your line of sight is constantly covered by your hand, no matter how you angle yourself. With a little pout, you assess your options.

Sensing the struggle, he chuckles and decides to take matters into his own hands, literally. He sweeps you off your feet, lifting you effortlessly and placing you on the bathroom sink, “Is that better, Sweets?” From this elevated position, you now have a perfect vantage point to tackle his eyebrows.

Nodding, you place one kiss on his nose before beginning your venture into his bushy brows, cautious not to shave too far in or knick him. With each swipe, you concentrate more and more, pleased with your work. A sudden surge of adoration pings in your heart as you see the way he’s looking at you, accompanied by his thumbs tracing over your hips. In times like this, you wonder how you could ever be so lucky to have someone like him love you.

While you continue working, Sunghoon is thinking the exact same thing. It’s so strange how as soon as he started to spend time with you all those months back, a valve opened up in his heart to pour love out, and as he’s observing you now, he realises that he’s now just flooded with emotions all over his body. He’s happier, more patient, less angry, and just filled to the brim with adoration for not just you, but his life.

You wouldn’t know it because he hid it well but he was losing himself before he met you. The pressures of skating and university, the coldness from his mother, and the constant image of being arrogant and obnoxious that was posted about him in the media, it all got to him more than he let on. Now, none of that matters; he loves skating again, you actually make him study with you so he’s on top of all his assignments, and the opinions of his mother and journalists are no longer an issue for him - he doesn’t care anymore.

“I really do love you, y’know,” he says out of the blue, just as you begin on his left brow.

A chuckle escapes your lips because it was so painfully obvious he did, you’ve never felt more seen or cherished in your entire life. Fair enough, the bar was way down to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, but still, he made you feel on cloud 9 all the time. Even if you argue over different opinions, you never belittle one another or get mad, you talk it out rather than fight. It’s a dynamic you’ve not seen in your personal life before - when your dad was around, he and your mum would scream at one another or just never speak, the complete opposite of you and Sunghoon.

“I love you, too, Sunghoon,” you beam at him so widely you’re showing your gums. If anyone saw the way both of you were in the bathroom, giggling messes and smiling at each other like this, they would slag you off easily. But no one else is here, just you and him. If only it could always be like this.

Getting back to the task at hand, you finish up shaving off the last few bits and tidying the brows up, sculpting them like you’re Michelangelo and he’s David. They look good in your unprofessional opinion but it wasn’t yours that mattered, “I’m all done, take a look.”

As you go to jump off of the sink, he holds you still and shakes his head. Instead, he snakes his arms around your figure and pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looks in the mirror behind you. The intimate action has you instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around his body, clinging to him.

You feel him move his head side to side to inspect, “They’re perfect, Sweets. How much do I owe you?” he jokes, squeezing you before pulling back.

“I charge one kiss per brow,” you tilt your head and bite your lip.

“As long as I’m your only client,” he looks at you with that same playful serious stare, “I’ll even tip you,” he smirks, pushing your core against him.

Since the injury, you and Sunghoon haven’t had sex and it’s not through a lack of trying. Every time you both get into the swing of things, he either puts unnecessary pressure on his ankle or hits it off something. It’s stupid because at the end of the day, it’s his ankle and not his hip but you hadn’t realised how important a working ankle is during the deed. Even when you attempted to give him a blowjob, the tension in his leg went straight down into it.

He feels confident in his ankle today, there’s no way it can cockblock him for the 5th day in a row. He wouldn’t let it happen.

His plump lips cloak yours as his hands grip your ass and manually grind you onto him, eliciting a moan from you. Between your pyjama shorts and his gym shorts, there isn’t much material between you, so you feel each other’s need for one another easily.

Dancing your fingertips along the nape of his neck, he shivers, a grunt coming from his mouth when you grip the bottom of his hair.

Your attempt at intimacy is short-lived however when you hear keys rattling in the door but Sunghoon won’t let his roommate stop him, “It’s Jake, ignore him,” he continues to kiss you eagerly, the grip on your ass is so tight you’re bound to have marks.

However, when an unexpected voice echoes in the apartment, you both freeze, hearts in your throats.

“Sunghoon? Where are you?” His mother bellows, locking the door behind her.

She hasn’t bothered to come see her son since the accident, once she knew he would be fine, she left him to his own devices. So why is she here now?

Panicked, you push him off, the sudden movement makes him stumble over his ankle, “Shit, baby, sorry,” you whisper, quickly jumping down from the unit. You can hear her footsteps exploring the living room and kitchen.

She still didn’t know about you both, and as terrified as you were of Minhee finding out, Sunghoon was of equal measure about his mother, claiming she was psychotic enough to hire a hitman on you for ‘distracting’ him. Your boyfriend said it as a joke but he was genuinely scared of her reaction to the news.

Cupping your cheeks, Sunghoon gives you another kiss, and then another, and then another, “Baby, stay here and keep quiet. I’ll get rid of her,” he keeps dragging you to the door, placing urgent kisses all over your face as he backs up. You should tell him to stop considering he’s risking it but his lips are so addictive, “Fuck, what if I pretend I’m not here?”

“Go, Hoonie,” you’re acutely tuned into her footsteps coming up the hall.

Opening the door, he gives you three more short kisses before turning around, bumping straight into his mum. She startles, taking a step back, clearly caught off guard by his sudden presence, "Sunghoon, why didn't you answer when I called?" she queries.

“Sorry mum, I was having a piss”

You roll your eyes as you hear him from outside. There had to have been a better way to say that. Their voices get distant as they walk into his room across the hall but you can still hear them enough with your ear pressed against the door. Is it morally wrong to eavesdrop on the conversation between mother and son? Yes, but you’re nosey and none of the three boys keep magazines in the bathroom for light reading.

As Mrs. Park surveys the room, a disapproving huff escapes her lips, exhibiting her dissatisfaction with its current state, "How are you?" she asks in a monotone voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, “Fine, I guess. What are you doing here?” His arms are crossed defensively and his eyebrow quirked, “And where did you get a key?”

Of all the years he’s lived with Jay and Jake, his mum hasn’t so much as stepped foot into the flat so this was a weird situation he’s found himself in.

She turns to inspect the shelves of his room, running a finger to collect dust, crumbling it away in disgust, “I made a copy one of the days you were training,” Twisting back to face him she continues, “And can’t a mother drop by to see her son when he’s injured?”

Sunghoon, clearly sceptical, could almost burst into laughter, "I got injured almost a week ago, and I could have easily texted you about my condition," he retorts, his narrowed eyes reflecting suspicion.

“I might have been busy rescheduling your appointments but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Sunghoon,” she doesn’t flinch and neither does he.

The relationship between them is spread thin at this point, merely a transaction of small talk and managerial duties, he acknowledges this and so does she, so the act she’s putting on right now isn’t fooling anyone, “Mum, we’re not exactly known for heart-to-heart chats. What’s the real reason you’re here?”

Scoffing, she matches his stance, crossing her arms, subsequently closing herself off, “I think it was sabotage.”

You wish you weren’t listening now. Does she know it was Minhee? There’s no way she could, maybe she’s just a sceptical person…or perceptive.

The tension in the room rises as Sunghoon tries to process her words, “Mum, this isn’t one of those bad dramas you watch during the week, my skate snapped, that’s all it was. Plus, no one hates me enough to do that,” he barters with her, the idea that this was anything more than a freak accident made him laugh.

In the bathroom, you’re freaking out and regretting all your decisions to keep it a secret. If you had just told him, he would have had some respect for you but you know for certain if she does know that it was Minhee and tells all to her son, he’ll lose every ounce of regard for you.

This is bad.

His mum shakes her head, dropping her arms and going back to snooping around his room, “I think it was Minhee…or Y/N. She is always around that rink when she can’t even skate, that’s a bit suspicious, no?”

The accusation makes Sunghoon’s blood boil. You have been the one to look after him throughout all of this and his mother dares to think for a second it was your doing he’s in this position. All the care and love you’ve shown him this week alone is enough for the insinuation to filter in one of Sunghoon’s ears and out the other.

Paying him no mind, his mother continues to the other side of his room, “The whole family is bad news but her? She’s up to something, far too quiet that one,” look on her face only grows with more disgust as she spouts her words.

“You’re ridiculous! Y/N wouldn’t do that. You don’t know shit about her,” he protests angrily, his fists balling by his sides as he tries to remain some sort of composure. Sunghoon would be dead before he let anyone speak badly about you.

“Fucking stop it. What is your obsession with the Kangs?” He knows he shouldn’t have asked considering you’re in the bathroom and could probably hear every word of this conversation but it was more rhetorical than genuine curiosity.

However, his mum will take any opportunity to slander your family, “Her mother sleeping with the judge to get that scoundrel of a boy a higher ranking at Junior Regionals is enough of a reason. Her whoring around nearly cost you the final.”

Junior Regionals, 2018, the year your dad left because of a rumour your mum had slept with one, possibly two of the judges. Of course, it wasn’t true, Minhee worked incredibly hard to get high scores that year but Mrs. Park couldn’t accept that your brother almost knocked Sunghoon off the top spot. The rumour spread so fast that it almost tarnished everything that Minhee had worked for, there were investigations and everything - judges got fired, your dad divorced your mum, and it was a rough time for everyone in your family.

Sunghoon swallows down what he actually wants to say, “Is it really that serious? It was like what? 5 years ago and so what if I did come second to him? Would it be the end of the world?”

“If her little plan had worked the way she wanted it to, you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to work with Mr. Son and get the sponsorship that propelled you to fame, you’d be a nobody like Minhee.”

Rage, unfiltered, pure toxic rage overcomes you. She can say anything she wants about you, even your mum but never Minhee. He has done nothing but grind on that ice for years to prove himself as a main competitor since the accusations. Minhee is top of his league for a reason, he is just as good as Sunghoon is. Did he work on his humble and modest persona to make brownie points in the press? Sure, but his talent can never be questioned.

Reaching for the knob of the door, you’re about to barge in and tell her where to stick her opinion when you hear Sunghoon, “Are my talents not good enough? Did you ever think that Mr. Son wanted to work with me because he saw my skating and thought I’d make a good ambassador?” His voice is pained.

"Be real, Sunghoon," his mother says dismissively, and a heavy silence falls over the room. Your heart hurts for him, and your hand falls to your side, the weight of their conversation temporarily overriding your desire to intervene.

The admiration you’ve held for Sunghoon’s skating since you were little was a testament to his skills. His fluidity and grace were unrivalled, and he was seen as an embodiment of potential by everyone. It's frustrating to witness his mother's lack of faith in his talents. It feels completely unjust that the one who should champion him the most fails to recognise the kind of athlete Sunghoon is.

Sunghoon's shoulders drop, the weight of his mother's doubts and lack of belief in his talents crashing down on him. He lets out a deep sigh as he struggles to find the words to express his disappointment and dissatisfaction. "Don't you get it, mum? All of my years of training, sacrifices, and everything, were all done to prove something. To prove that I can be more than what you expected,” he lets out a bitter laugh, looking up to the ceiling as if to hold in tears, “But I’ll never be good enough for you, will I?”

The room echoes with the heaviness of Sunghoon's emotions, the unspoken tension hanging in the air like a dense fog. As you listen, a profound empathy washes over you, recognising the pain of a son seeking validation from a parent who seems drastically out of reach. He was always so good at comforting you with your lack of self-esteem instilled by your mum because he knew. He knew how it felt to be seen as less than from your flesh and blood.

His mother remains motionless, her stare unwavering and detached. "Sunghoon, the world is cruel. How can you expect to survive if you can't handle critisism? You are skating on thin ice, both literally and figuratively. Your National top spot is up for grabs, this is serious, I don’t have time for your pity party.”

Sunghoon's jaw clenches, a mixture of frustration and resignation etched on his face. He had hoped for understanding but what did he expect from a mother like his? He gathers himself, not letting her words hinder him anymore today, “I’m fine, just go. You’ve checked in and laid your conspiracies on the table, you can go now.”

Her gaze remains icy. "Fine? Is this what you call 'fine'? Being 20 years old, living with two delinquents, and a twisted ankle to boot? I came here to tell you about the sabotage to spur you on and give you a reason to get better for Nationals. Don’t you want to show up the person who tried to end your career?”

“No one tried to end my career, you’re fucking delusional!” He raises his voice and it makes you jump, the anger portraying in his voice is similar to when he beat up that guy at the party for touching you. Sunghoon never gets angry, not seriously, so you know he’s had enough, “You seem to have a lot of opinions about people I care about, just so you can justify your weird allegations.”

She raises a brow, “You ‘care’ for the Kangs? Is that what I’m hearing?”

To be fair, it does sound strange if you don’t know the whole context, Minhee and Sunghoon don’t strike anyone as buddies and you and Sunghoon apparently haven’t spoken two words to one another.

Sunghoon is so overcome with emotions he doesn’t stop himself, “Yeah, I care about them, Minhee is actually a decent guy who I just don’t see eye to eye with. And Y/N, she…she isn’t even any part of this, so keep her name out of your mouth, okay?”

Mrs. Park looks at him with scepticism, “I’m curious, Sunghoon, how you’ve suddenly become so protective over Y/N. What is she to you?”

You can feel your heart ripping through your chest as your name bounces between their lips, you never wanted to change your name so much in your life. As your palms get sweaty, you hear nothing but silence.

The question hangs in the air, challenging Sunghoon to define the nature of his connection with you. For a moment, he seems caught between the impulse to reveal his true feelings and the desire to shield you from his mother's wicked ways.

“She’s someone who you don’t know and are making wild accusations about, sorry if i have some morals,” he states firmly, eyes unwavering as he stands his ground. He doesn’t want to add you further into this family drama, you’ve been dragged through it enough at no fault of your own.

Despite his best efforts to swerve you out, his mother drags you back in, “You like her, don’t you?” When Sunghoon doesn’t say anything, his mum cackles, “I should have known, all those nights at the rink were to see her, weren’t they?”

If she wasn’t basically figuring out your secret relationship with her son, you would have given her some props - the woman is smart.

Sucking his teeth, Sunghoon nods, “Yeah, so what? I’ve been seeing her and we’re happy, doesn’t that just prove your mad theory about her sabotaging my skate null and void?”

Her eyes flash in disbelief for a moment before she finds her resolve, “You don’t know her, she could have done it. She would do anything for Minhee.”

You want to argue but she’s right, you would do anything. You’re literally hiding in a bathroom as they argue about someone deliberately breaking his skate knowing fine well it was your brother.

“I know her, mum.”

"What could you possibly know about her?" she responds sharply, the scepticism written across her features

"I know she loves me, and I love her. She wouldn't do that," Sunghoon says firmly, his voice carrying a confidence that fills the room. In the long silence that follows, you can almost imagine his mother's jaw dropping, either that or she’s fainted.

Staring sternly at Sunghoon, she tightens her jaw, a silent attempt to regain control of the narrative slipping through her fingers, “You’re an immature child, Sunghoon, you don’t know what love is.”

“And you do?” he spits back.

For a while, you don’t hear anything except your heartbeat and the air coming through the toilet vent. It's as if the world around you has vanished, and stepping out of this bathroom will transport you to a reality similar to a dystopian movie where there are no survivors left.

This was not an argument meant for your ears, which weighs hard on your conscience. Guilt flows through you like an electric current, yet ironically, it's a conversation that is entirely about you and your family.

Frustration etches deeper lines onto Mrs. Park's face as Sunghoon doesn’t budge. She clicks her tongue and strides towards him, “Fine. But just know your father would be highly disappointed in you right now,” she pushes past him and storms out of the flat, leaving a heavy atmosphere in her wake.

Sunghoon’s heart wrenches at the thought, he feels sick. He’s only ever wanted to make his father proud and now his mum said that. He stands frozen, his gaze fixed on the ground. The weight of his mother's words hangs in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the room and Sunghoon's heart.

Shock doesn’t even begin to describe your state right now. There is no way she said his dad would be disappointed in him, she said that to spite him because he won the argument, it’s pitiful. Mrs. Park is supposed to be the adult in the situation, yet she handled it like a child. You hate her.

Turning the door handle, you ease your way out of the bathroom, careful not to startle your boyfriend. There’s not a lot you can do for him, her words are a wound that can’t be healed by hugs and kisses. But you have to try.

Tip-toeing into the room, you gingerly place a hand on his arm, “Hoonie?” He jumps slightly but doesn’t lift his eyes to look at you. As you circle to the front of him, you see the water in his eyes and his jaw clenched, holding in anger and hurt.

You reach up to touch his face, stroking his cheek in an attempt to loosen it up but you fail. He is trying to be so strong and not let his emotions overwhelm him but even if he’s fighting them on the outside, inside he is breaking.

“Baby, please don’t listen to her. She is so incredibly wrong,” you speak softly.

His eyes flicker to yours for a split second but it was a mistake, he can see the sympathy in your eyes and it makes him feel weak. He shouldn’t be affected by his mothers words so much, not after he vowed to stop caring about her opinions but the way she spoke so easily about his dad’s disappointment boiled him over the edge, not to mention how she dragged you through the dirt. He felt ashamed for some reason, “Look at me, Sunghoon.”

Pleading with him falls on deaf ears however because he doesn’t dare, knowing he’ll breakdown. Sunghoon has always held it together, even that day he sat rubbing your back on the bleachers, when you hit a nerve he switched from sad to joy in the space of a second, something he’s been so good at his whole life, so why is this influx of sadness any different.

Because she mentioned the two most important people in his life and how the relationships were stained with something negative. Sunghoon obviously knows you wouldn’t corrupt his career like that and he knows his dad won’t be disappointed in him but he can’t help his mothers words poisoning his brain.

Exhaling slowly, you withdraw your hand from his face and trail it over his heart. It’s beats are irregular, swapping between a regular pace and missing a few pulses completely, his lungs are moving at a faster rate yet his nose and mouth are still.

“Sunghoon, hey, listen to me, okay?” You try to guide him to the chair behind him so he can sit but his feet remain sturdy, “Please, Hoonie, I think you’re going to have a panic attack or something so can you sit down for me?”

All the signs are there. Panic attacks are different for everyone and he might just be going through the motions, but you’re better safe than sorry.

His entire attention is distant, absorbed in the chaos of his own mind. You can practically see the internal fight in his eyes, the conflict between the emotions and listening to his body. It’s scary because you’ve never seen him like this before.

Sunghoon finally relents, allowing you to guide him to the chair. You crouch down in front of him, placing your hands on his knees, trying to establish a connection. "There we go,” You learned about bringing people down from panic attacks in a mental health first aid course you took years ago. Granted you’ve never used any of the steps on anyone other than yourself, so now would be the perfect time to use it.

Knowing your boyfriend well, he loved it when you lay on top of him, the weight of you calmed him down if he was nervous about something, so, you figured he could benefit from deep pressure touch and if not, you’d try something else. Anything to stop him from hurting like this.

Straddling his lap on the chair, you bring him into a hug, tightening your arms so it is snug and not uncomfortable and hold him, soothing his back and whispering positive affirmations beside him.

You sit with him like that for about 15 minutes before he finally moves, his arms circling your waist and his face buries into your neck. He doesn’t sob or break down, he just holds you with the same force you are giving him. He finds some serenity in your touch and he can’t thank you enough.

You wish he would just let it all out, to cry because he needs it, but you can’t push him - he copes in his own ways.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that earlier,” Your heart tears as he mutters the words into the nape of your neck. He is the one in pain right now yet he’s apologising for your feelings that got hurt. Pulling back you see his sullen face as he finally looks at you, “She had no right to accuse you or Minhee like that, she was out of line.”

A lump forms in your throat but you force it back down. You can’t tell him now, not while he’s like this but fuck do you feel like a piece of shit right now. Every fibre of your body wants to tell him and relieve yourself of the burden on your shoulders, but now is not the time for that.

You plaster on a gentle smile and place your hands on his cheeks, “And she had no right to tell you your dad would be disappointed in you because I know for a fact that he isn’t. That man worshipped the ground you walkrd on, he still does. You’re everything he would want you to be.”

The words hit Sunghoon a little too hard, the ducts of his eyes filling again but he quickly blinks them away and clears his throat, shaking his head as if to rid him of any thoughts in his brain.

“Thank you, Y/N. For everything and I don’t just mean right now,” he pauses, collecting the correct words, “I mean for the past few months. I feel so…I don’t know, I can’t even describe it. I just know I’m lucky to have you.”

You jutt your bottom lip out and nod. Of course, you understood what he meant because you felt it too. His mum was certainly wrong about Sunghoon not knowing what love is, he’s experiencing it in ways people can only read about in books. You cherish each other as best friends, as lovers, as soulmates.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he smiles genuinely, “Never leave me, yeah? You’re all I’ve got.”

You look at him, your eyes silently convey the depth of your care and commitment to him, “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me for a long, long time, all my snoring included,” both of you laugh, the tension and animosity that still lingered from the confrontation with his mother slowly but surely dissipating, “I am going to tell Jay and Jake about how you said that though. They’ll be highly offended.”

The joke settles in Sunghoon’s smile, “What can I do to keep you quiet?”

You pretend to think, mockingly looking up at the ceiling as if to contemplate, “I think I’ll take the same toll as my eyebrow-shaping services. Two kisses and your secret is safe with me.”

If Sunghoon could imprint a single vision to his brain, it would be you right now with the loving smile you have adorning your face, “You drive a hard bargain, Sweets but I’ll pay up,” Leaning forward, he kisses you tenderly, holding your back for support. Your bodies melt together, any tension in your persons now evaporating as you lose yourselves in one another.

His tongue makes its way into your mouth, licking you softly and with so much affection. You loved this side of Sunghoon, it proved to you that men could actually be soulful. He’s a ruby in a diamond world, you’re certain.

“You know, I never did give you my tip for your services earlier?” He wiggles the freshly shaped eyebrows.

“Seriously? After all that went down, you’re still horny?” You ask confused.

Nodding he dips his hands down to your ass, “I have been cockblocked for a month-”

“5 days,” you interrupt.

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter how long, I just know I need to feel you,” There’s a playful glint in his eyes but underneath lies a strange vulnerability as if he just needs to be loved, to be wanted. You can understand that; you felt the same way when you were upset after the party, desperate for a genuine connection.

Lifting you, he carries you to the bed and lays you down gently, yet, with enough urgency to relay his needs to you. He is so desperate for your touch and your love that he’s already kissing down your neck and hands roaming under the borrowed shirt that you’re wearing.

But you stop him suddenly, using all your strength to push him away and push him to sit up against the headboard.

He had to feel the pleasure this time and as much as he would tell you that getting you off was enough for him, you wanted to return the favour.

Sunghoon has a terrible habit of just diving into making you feel good that often your night antics are one-sided with him doing most of the work and you get all of the reward. Tonight, you can’t let it follow the same routine, no matter his protests.

You start rubbing over his cock that is concealed by his sweatpants and boxers. The imprint of his size is already making your pants stick to your pussy.

You sit on Sunghoon’s legs, anchoring him to his bed as you play with the toggles of his sweatpants.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he watches you pull back the strings and let them go, allowing them to snap and send a shock to his already desperate cock. The way you’re just as eager as him makes his blood pump straight down, helping his member to stand to attention.

There is still an apprehension in you to continue; the last time you attempted to suck him off, it ended in his feet digging into the bed and his ankle swelling back up. This time, however, he was in tip-top shape, or at least he would rather be in pain than not have those beautiful lips of yours wrapped around him

Pulling the bands of his bottoms down slightly, you expose his semi-hard dick, drooling at the sight. It looks as pretty as ever, the tip blushed with a hint of pink already from arousal.

Sunghoon rubs your thighs, the pads of his fingers trickling along your skin, setting your body alight. Even the simplest of touches from him is enough to get the blood in your veins to stir. He sees the effect he has on you and smugly licks his bottom lip, “Are you sure you don’t want me to…” he trails off, his right fingers ghosting your heat, giving you just enough to tease but not to please.

“No,” you shake your head with conviction, determined not to fall into his trap, “I want to do this.”

You honestly do feel bad for the lack of give compared to take, but Sunghoon has an addiction to taste you, to feeling your essence on his lips and tongue. He gets lost down there so long you, making you cum however many times he pleases that sometimes you’re too fucked out to even think, never mind give him anything in return.

Your hand is cold compared to his warm shaft, so when you grasp it softly, it jumps in your hand as Sunghoon gasps, “Jesus fuck,” he whispers as he shuts his eyes, his hand gripping your inner thigh.

You slowly drip your spit onto his cock, gathering enough to coat it. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly, spreading your saliva over him, squeezing periodically where you knew he was most sensitive.

Rubbing your thumb over his head, you apply special pressure to his slit with each passing which Sunghoon obviously loves, his face being the number one indicator; his jaw is tense, eyebrows scrunched together, and his nose is breathing out harshly. You're driving him crazy with lust.

“Baby, please don’t tell me you aren’t going to use that pretty mouth of yours,” he pleads to you while his hips thrust up further, trying to get as close to your mouth as physically possible from the position he’s in, “I want your mouth so much.”

“You want what?” you tease, bringing your lips down to the tip only to spit on it once more, denying him what he craves.

Sunghoon doesn’t take the teasing well, gritting his teeth from aggravation and pleasure. Although he’s desperately seeking the warmth of your tongue sliding up and down his cock, he can’t deny how good your palm feels stroking him like this.

Both of you are as bad as one another, teasing while still giving something. Usually, it’s Sunghoon and his soft kitten licks to your folds when all you want is his fingers inside you.

It was nice to be in control like this.

Pumping him faster, you watch as he struggles to speak, chest rising and falling with your hand, “Just…fuck…don’t make me ask again,” he pushes out, tone laced in flames. It’s almost cute how he thinks you’ll give up so easily, this is your time to get him back for every time he tortured you.

Bringing your face back down to his head, you lick into his slit and circle his head slowly. As soon as he thinks he’s won, you sit back up straight, smirking as he grinds his jaw in frustration, “Like that?” you ask innocently, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Y/N, c’mon, this is supposed to make me feel better,” he pouts, trying to hide a smile. You falter for a moment, thinking about his words carefully.

You suppose that this was to make him feel better after what just happened with his mum, he needs to feel loved and appreciated, to feel that someone actually cares about him and backs him through everything.

But you know him, and that glint of playfulness in his eyes tells you everything you need to know, “You can’t use the pity card to get what you want, Hoon,” you laugh and continue to work his cock.

Losing his despaired expression, he clicks back into his cheeky self, huffing while he rolls his eyes, “It was worth a shot.” he mutters disappointedly. He really thought that would work.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to guilt trip me into giving you what you want,” you sigh, feigning annoyance. Your hand starts to slow down, “Should I even give you this much?” The confidence in your voice wavers once you look into his eyes.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Sweets,” he challenges you, those menacing fingers from before now pressed exactly where your clit is. You jerk at the sudden touch, loosening your grip on him just slightly. His expression is smug, a wide grin plastered all over his face.

He rubs on your bud causing a chain reaction of events; you fall forward a little, mouth slack open, and with one swift push of your head, he’s gotten exactly what he wants.

Gripping your hair tight with his free hand, he forces you to take him deep into your throat, holding you there as you gag on him, the vibration sending a shiver through his entire body.

Despite his force, he’s left you enough leeway to come off if you want to, but now that you’re down here, mouth stuffed with him, you don’t really feel the need to. Instead, you hollow your cheeks and give in.

His fingers finally slip into you, not even bothering to wait for you to discard your underwear. Curling his two fingers inside you provokes a high-pitched moan to rise from your chest and onto his entire length.

You clasp your hand around his wrist, holding his hand still, grinding on his hand of your own accord. It feels so good you pop off his cock, leaning your head on his shoulder as you get swept away in the goodness.

Your boyfriend tuts mockingly before whispering in your ear, “Baby, I’m starting to think you only want to make yourself feel good,” his voice is embedded with amusement, not a trace of annoyance to be heard.

Sunghoon’s greatest pride is making you feel good, and as much as your mouth feels fucking unreal, he’ll take hearing your cute noises of need over getting sucked off any day.

You know he doesn’t mind but you want to give him more, something just for him. Regaining your thoughts, you quickly push him to lay flat on the bed, withdrawing his hand from your pussy.

Confused, he raises his eyebrows, “Baby, what are you-holy fuck!”

He stops his question mid-sentence as you take him back in your mouth, this time focusing on sucking his red tip, alternating between licking and slurping.

Grasping at the sheets below him, Sunghoon’s knuckles turn white and his legs tense under you while you give him head, probably with the most vigour you’ve ever shown. He doesn’t know how long he will last with each passing of your tongue over his slit, the accidental dips of the tip of your muscle making him jerk forward.

“Fuck, baby, do that again,” he asks pleadingly, desperate to feel that good again. And you oblige, flicking your tongue into his hole once again, and again, and then once more before you start to taste his precum on your tastebuds.

As much as he is enjoying this, the idea of splattering his love over your face and tongue, he could think of somewhere else he’d rather have it. Ever since that first time without the condom, you quickly hopped on the pill and never looked back, both of you obsessed with how it felt to fall apart raw like that.

Yes, it was irresponsible, chances of still getting pregnant at a staggering rate but it felt too good and looked even better. Sunghoon still hasn’t got the image of the first time his cum leaked out of you, the sight is the closest thing to heaven as far as he is concerned.

You feel the pulse in his cock thump against your tongue, signalling that he’s close, ready to erupt; however, your hair is yanked to pull you off, the control from each strand to your brain acting as a puppet string as Sunghoon moves you to crawl forward and kiss him, his tongue dancing in your mouth.

It’s not like him to deny himself release so you know he wants you on him quickly. If his free hand shoving your underwear down wasn’t indicator enough, his little moans certainly were.

Freeing yourself of your bottoms and pulling his off at the same time, you hover over his angry cock, crying out for your cunt. But that doesn’t mean you can’t cause one more bit of torment.

Sliding his cock along your wetness, you pretend that you're just gathering enough of your natural lubricate to easily slip him in, but in reality, you keep going; every time his head touches your entrance, you slide it straight back out.

Clenching his jaw, he shakes his head once you’ve done it one too many times, “Fuck this,” he says lowly. Both of his hands grip your hips tight and once his dick is close enough, he forcefully pushes you onto him, engulfing his whole cock. The sudden action ruptures a loud, porn-like moan from you, the tip of him sitting right at your cervix.

“Isn’t that so much better than being difficult?” he asks cockily, kissing down your neck as you adjust to him, “Remember when you used to be so well-behaved with me?” His words flutter in your tummy, the raspyness of his voice spinning your head around. He must be reading those books you leave at his place, his sex talk is getting a little too good.

He rocks your hips to test the waters for any discomfort, and when he doesn’t see anything but pleasure on your face, he keeps going, “What happened to my good girl? Hmm?” he licks a long strip up your neck before nibbling your earlobe.

This damn praise kink will be the end of you because now all you can think about is him telling you how good you are for him, “I’m sorry, Hoonie. I just wanted to tease you,” you confess, face red from lust and embarrassment at how easy it is for him to get you surrendering.

It’s not a power play, he does it because he knows if you give in and just be your good little self, you enjoy yourself more. You physically shudder at every word of praise and touch of love, why wouldn’t he want you to just surrender to your desires? When you feel good, he feels good; it’s a win-win.

“My beautiful girl, teasing me after saying you wanted to look after me?” he tuts mockingly, smooching along your jawline, “You still want to make me feel good, don’t you?”

The question makes your pussy walls hug him tight, eyes shut as you quickly nod, “Yes, yes I want to look after you, for the rest of my life,” you utter the words so tenderly that it catches Sunghoon a little off guard.

When you’re both close like this, having sex, fucking, making love - whatever anyone wants to call it - you are always so vulnerable and honest with him. He wonders if you know you do it or if it subconsciously slips out.

Pickling your hips up, he guides you gently up and down him, the bell of his cock bumping each part of your canal perfectly, “Feel how my heart is beating? That’s because you always look after me, you don’t need to do anything other than be here with me, that’s enough,” he places your hand on his chest and you feel his heart accelerating.

Sunghoon speaks with genuine love, like he’s trying to tie both of you together for an eternity, and you have no reservations about that. You love him so much that even though you can’t see down the tunnel of your future with one another, you know you want to be with him until the end of the line.

Nodding, you smile brightly, “Still, I would like to actually finish giving you head at some point,” you joke, lightening the mood a little.

“I’ll think about it,” he mirrors your expression, nuzzling his nose with yours gently, “For now I think I’d really like to cum inside my girl.”

You’re convinced you’ve just cum already, the bluntness of his needs only fueling your own. There’s nothing you want more than his cock - which is currently fucking you gently - to fill you up.

It gives you the motivation to move your hips in rhythm with him, pressing your palms on his chest while you pick up speed. Your g-spot is being satisfied each time you fully sink onto him, bringing you close to the edge.

“Fuck, you’re so good, such a good girl,” he echoes loudly. He wants to buck up faster but his ankle has an annoying twinge in it, telling him not to push it too far, so he puts all his strength into his other foot, using that as his anchor to fuck into you deeper.

“Sunghoon…right there,” you whine, your mouth collecting drool as he fucks you dumb.

He heeds your words and keeps drilling into you, fighting through the discomfort so you can climax. Reaching his thumb up to your mouth, he wipes the saliva formulating at the side of your mouth but he quickly stops when you suck on it, eyes boring into his as you do.

Your plump lips look delicious while your tongue swirls around, giving him something to think about for the rest of his life. Grabbing your chin, he pulls your mouth open which you do obediently.

“You’re so close, Sweets, I can feel you,” he states, swiping his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing your spit all over your mouth and down your chin, he grips you a bit tighter to keep you staring at him, “You’re gonna cum, and you’re going to keep looking at me when you do, okay? Do you know why?”

Without hesitation, you agree, staring straight into him, “So I know who makes me cum so hard,” It’s a little embarrassing to admit it, but it turns you on so much. You wonder if you could convince him to go full dom on you at some point, you know he has it in him.

“Good girl, you can cum whenever you want,” the huskiness in his voice pulses into your heat, making you clench around him again. The motion only makes him smirk, “I need to feel that perfect pussy fall apart so bad.” The confidence in his voice wavers as his dick spurts a little. He’s trying to hold it in until you cum but it’s proving more difficult than he anticipated, your core just clamping down on him too deliciously.

“Cum with me,” you say, cradling his face, “I want to cum with you.”

The suggestion doesn’t come unfounded, you know he’s holding back until you climax, “Let me milk your cock.”

Okay, you might have to seriously cringe after this because who do you suddenly think you are? Dirty talk isn’t something that comes as naturally to you as Sunghoon so every time you initiate or say something like that, you have to stop yourself from shrivelling up.

What you fail to see is how Sunghoon’s whole body shuts down, the dirty words falling from those angelic lips put his head in a tizzy and cock on the very brink of shooting into you. The drive he has now is exhilarated, his hips snapping into you, weight on both his ankles but he couldn’t care less, he had to feel you coming undone.

You try to keep up with his pace but he’s going so fast you don’t even have time to comprehend how you could add to the situation. His length is pistoning into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again, “Sunghoon! I’m cumming,”

“Cum for me. Milk my cock, Y/N,” he echoes your words but they don’t sound as good to him when it’s not your voice.

Snaking his hand down to your clit, he rubs it, just helping to push you that last bit over the finish line, and it works like a dream. Your walls contort around him, your body tensing as your orgasm flushes over you.

With your pussy tightening, Sunghoon spurts his seed into you, filling you up. The way your body is responding to your climax squeezes his cock clear of any cum, his balls deflating as he keeps shooting his sperm into you.

He doesn’t stop for what feels like minutes, his dick jumping inside of you with each rope, only adding to your pleasure. Sunghoon’s thumb slows down but doesn’t stop giving your clit attention, making sure you get to ride out every remnant of your orgasm.

Panting, you collapse on him, smooshing your face into his chest and kissing his heart softly, it’s your weak attempt to help him come down.

Sunghoon wraps his arms around you, the rest of his body going limp as he cherishes the time with you on top of him like this, his cock still buried deep inside you, “You accomplished your goal,” he says into your hair, laying a kiss on your roots, “I feel so much better.”

You look up at him, leaning up slightly, “I never want you to listen to your mum again. She’s wrong about everything, you’re so perfect in every way, shape, and form,” your voice whisps over his face as you try to instil some assurance into him.

There was the little issue of saying this knowing full well she was kind of right about the skate being sabotaged. It gnaws at you, wishing you could tell him what you know, but you don’t want to hurt him, or your brother.

“I promise, I mean it when I say you’re the only one I need,” his fingers trace hearts into your back as you both bathe in the love that fills the room.

The connection you have to Sunghoon feels surreal like it’s too good to be true.

______

After the few days you’ve spent nonstop with Sunghoon, you decide you need to go back to your normal life, you can’t stay in your comfort cocoon forever. You’ve been back at classes, hanging out with Rina, and returning to work. However, you still haven’t been home, opting to spend the nights with Sunghoon.

Minhee has texted and called you a few times, leaving messages asking if you can meet up but you ignore him. His messages punctuate your days like soft knocks on a door you are scared to unlock.

Each time he contacted you, there was a little angel on your shoulder telling you to hear him out and let him explain what’s been going on. You have been telling yourself that the whole reason you refuse to tell Sunghoon about his skate is because you want to find out the truth; so why aren’t you trying?

Instead, you listened to the devil perched on your other shoulder, telling you to ignore him because it was still wrong even if there was an excuse to be had regarding the sabotage.

Maybe it would have been easier to go back and forgive him if you hadn’t seen Sunghoon struggle to even stand in the shower.

Your boyfriend also got back to normality, he got his boots fixed in spite of you recommending new boots altogether, he’s determined to keep the old ones, claiming them lucky and ‘crucial to his National win’.

He’s healing well, you wouldn’t even know he had an injury 9 days ago if you hadn’t been by his side. You knew his recovery was going well when he walked to his uni campus and back with no complaints. Well that and how he made up for the lost time and starting fucking you anywhere and everywhere just like before.

As you make your way to the rink to study, you see Sunghoon’s car in the parking lot which is strange because he said he had classes this afternoon. You shrug it off however, it’s probably just a health checkup he forgot to mention.

Miss Barbara greets you, a beamer of a smile on her face but not like her usual happy to see you smile, more like an ‘I know something you don’t’ type of smile. You want to question her on it but you’re too curious as to what the rink has in store to wait around.

The sound of multiple skates resounds off the arena walls, it’s just gone 3:30pm so it’s not an unusual occurrence, the junior skaters usually have afterschool training on a Tuesday anyway. It’s the bellow of Coach Lee’s voice that causes you confusion.

“Take it easy okay, don’t walk before you can run,” Strange. He doesn’t take the Junior class anymore, not since most of the parents complained that he was ‘far too harsh’ on their children. Of course, that’s not how Coach Lee saw it.

As the rink comes into your sight you see the children standing to observe the skater on the ice as he lands a triple axel.

Sunghoon.

What on earth is he doing here, specifically, what is he doing skating like nothing happened?

You aren’t the only one who has a distaste in your mouth due to Sunghoon’s showing off. Coach is crossing his arms and tapping his foot in annoyance because his star skater has just defied his advice, “Sunghoon! Get off the ice. Now,” His tone indicates that he is in no mood for Sunghoon’s showboating.

Slowly, you make your way to the side while Sunghoon hops off the ice. Knowing your boyfriend, you can see his frustration with his coach, the slightly pouty lips and narrow eyes are a dead giveaway.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, too busy begrudgingly taking his skates off. To be honest, you’re a little surprised that he doesn’t have some form of PTSD or at least apprehension about getting on the ice again; it would scare the shit out of you never mind doing tricks as if you didn’t almost have a career-ending fall.

“Listen to me, if you want to make Nationals next week you need to calm down with the aerials, alright? We need to build up to it,” Coach reasons with him.

“You saw me, I was perfectly fine,” He mumbles, tying his trainers in a strop. Sometimes he acted just like a kid but you found it endearing, probably because you’re never on the other side of the tantrum.

You now stand next to Coach Lee with a dissatisfied look on your face, “Hoonie, if you don’t listen to Coach Lee, you’ll end up injured again and I am not looking after you again,” Your voice is playful but coach points to you and nods, his eyes still on Sunghoon.

Whipping his head up at your voice, the bratty attitude melts from his body and is replaced with pure happiness. He stands up and brings you in for the tightest hug, his hand placed behind your head as he scratches your hair.

Now that everyone in your immediate lives knew about you and Sunghoon, there wasn’t really any need to hide it. Both coaches were a little perplexed, wondering how your relationship started considering you both looked like you never spoke a word to one another. Little did they know you’ve spoken and fucked in every room of Belmore, including their office but you’ll omit that information if they ever ask.

You don’t actually know if your mum knows but rather just assumed she would, either the coaches or Minhee have told her. If she’s anything like Mrs. Park, she will not take it well.

As you’ve come to realise, your relationship with Sunghoon isn’t that controversial, it’s just two people falling in love while their families go at one another’s throats, like Romeo and Juliet but way, way less dramatic and hopefully no death. Although, if you had gotten a hold of Mrs. Park the day she came to visit Sunghoon, there might be one casualty in it all.

Coach Lee leaves you both, heading into his office.

“What are you doing?” You ask, still unaware as to why he’s skating.

Leaning back to look at you, he smiles, “I got the all-clear from the doctor. He said I must be some bionic mutation because it’s basically fixed itself,” You’re sceptical, knowing his doctor would usually be a little more cautious than just telling Sunghoon he’s good to go.

Unwrapping your arms from his waist, you raise an eyebrow, “He just…said you can go back to skating? Perform your intense routine at Nationals like it was nothing?” He senses your apprehension and dubiousness and looks away, whistling. He isn’t slick and he knows it, “I guess I’ll go ask him.”

“No! Wait!,” He pulls you back as you go to walk away, a guilty smile plastered on his face, “Okay, maybe he told me to take it easy, skip Nationals and rest up for a few months.”

The look on your face is incredulous, how can Sunghoon and his coach possibly justify letting him back on the ice?

Sunghoon fails to tell you that the doctor also said if he goes back too fast then he risks tearing a ligament and possibly putting him out of action for the foreseeable and with his age, he doesn’t have a lot of time left in competitive competitions.

That’s why he’s taking the risk. He’s 20 now, which is young in anyone else’s mind but for him, he’s too aware of the fact that in ten years maximum, he’ll either be doing exhibitions, coaching, or not skating at all. He had to take the chance, he had to make it to the Olympics and experience it.

“Sweets, I know what I’m doing, I know my body better than anyone,” He bargains with you, trying to help you see it from his point of view, “If I skate at Nationals, rest up for a bit before the winter Olympics, I’ll be all set. Trust me, baby.”

You do trust him, but you're also acutely aware of his stubborn nature. "Sunghoon, this plan might look good on paper, but it carries serious risks. You could really get hurt," you express, unintentionally letting a hint of begging slip into your voice. The mere thought of him sustaining another injury is unbearable.

Admittedly, there's a selfish reason you don’t want him to skate too soon. You don't want him to risk injury because, deep down, you fear that Minhee would have technically ended Sunghoon's career, invoking the butterfly effect.

“You also said that about us, that we’re good on paper but it couldn’t work. Look at us now,” Using your own words and relationship against you is a low blow, he knows that but it’s the only way you’ll understand.

With a slow nod, you reluctantly drop the argument. "Just please be careful. I don't want you to cause yourself more damage, okay? If you see my side, at least consider it."

Sunghoon intertwines his fingers with yours, leaning down to kiss you. Instead of responding with words, he lets the kiss convey his gratitude for your concern for him. He knows you’re only looking out for him at the end of the day, just like always.

For a moment, you both get lost in each other, almost forgetting your surroundings. The usual nagging in your brain about the need to be discreet fades away, allowing you to revel in the affection. It’s the joy of telling the world about your relationship.

However, before the moment can linger, your name is angrily shouted from the entrance door, shattering the intimacy. "Y/N, what on earth do you think you're doing?" Your mum storms over to you and Sunghoon, his protective grip on you tightening in response.

If she didn’t know about you and Sunghoon, she did now. Minhee tries to reach for your mum to calm her down but he isn’t quick enough.

“Mum, I-”

Before you can finish your sentence, she cuts you off, lifting her hand to silence you, “Don’t ‘mum’ me. I have been worried sick about you. You disappeared with…him for almost two weeks, not so much as a phone call to anyone.” She’s furious, if she was a cartoon you would see the steam coming from her scalp.

Sunghoon scoffs, bringing you to his side as a way to stand by you against her, “It’s a bit late to care about her now,” he mutters under his breath like he’s saying it to himself but it doesn’t go unnoticed from your mother.

“Excuse me?” She challenges Sunghoon, her posture hardening to match her stern gaze, “Do not involve yourself in our lives, I know what you’re up to,” her voice is accusatory.

Yanking you away from your boyfriend, she roughly shoves you to Minhee’s side who catches you. This is the first time you’ve seen him since the morning after the argument and he looks horrible, his entire expression is sullen and his dark undereyes showcase the lack of sleep he’s had. Your heart hurts, wishing you had picked up the phone at least once.

That’s the thing, everything is easier when you shut people out. You haven’t given much thought about how Minhee would be feeling since the incident because you didn’t have to face him.

He gives you a sympathetic look, genuine remorse in his eyes.

“Don’t speak and listen very carefully,” your mum looks at you, turning her back on Sunghoon to dismiss his presence entirely, “I didn’t want to believe the rumours about you two but it ends now. You will not see him again, that family is cruel and evil and I will not let you continue this relationship any further. Do I make myself clear?” You know she’s angry because she’s speaking clear and concise to get her point across.

“Not Sunghoon, mum, he’s not a bad person,”

Pleading with her falls short, her manner never wavering. You look to Sunghoon who shakes his head in disbelief at how brazen your mother was being by talking about him so poorly while he was right there.

She huffs, clearly irritated by your defiance. "Sunghoon is especially toxic."

"Mu-"

"He's using you to get to your brother."

The entire arena seems captivated by this unexpected drama, like it’s an episode of Maury and the DNA results are about to be revealed. Minhee and Sunghoon exchange perplexed glances, but all you can muster is laughter.

The idea that Sunghoon has ulterior motives for dating you seems utterly ludicrous, "Mum, Sunghoon and I are together, and we're happy. Why can't you just leave us be?"

Ignoring your plea, she digs into her handbag, determined to prove her point. As she scrolls through her phone, you seize the opportunity to exchange a glance with Minhee, who can only offer a shrug, equally taken aback by the unfolding spectacle.

Finally finding what she's looking for, she hands you the phone, revealing screenshots of text messages between two individuals. "I did some digging once I found out about your little relationship. He's been texting his friends and making a mockery of you."

As you peer at the phone, Sunghoon's name is at the top of the screen, and the messages depict Sunghoon boasting about sleeping with you and how easy you are to get into bed, all it took was playing on your ‘mommy issues’.

The stress in your body builds, lying heavily on your shoulders. Despite the initial shock, the rational part of your mind takes over. Nowadays, anyone can make a fake text. The absurdity of the situation dawns on you, and you suspect that your mother is creating drama for her own sick pleasure.

"Mum, anyone can fake text messages. This doesn't prove anything," you assert, hoping to inject some reason into the escalating confrontation.

Sunghoon still hasn’t seen the messages so he doesn’t know the severity of the allegations being made about him but he knows it can’t be good. Although you’re ninety percent convinced that it’s fabricated, he can see the ten percent of you arguing that they’re real.

With a dismissive wave, your mum takes back the mobile, “Thought you might say that. Texts can be faked, but voices? They don’t lie.”

You suddenly have a sick feeling that’s rising from your stomach to your throat. What else could she possibly have? It won’t be substantial, it can’t be.

Out of your eyeshot, Minhee and Sunghoon are exchanging a look of curiosity, both wondering what Sunghoon could possibly have said about you that would elude to your relationship being made from lies.

Opening a file on her phone, your mum plays an audio clip, the sound of Sunghoon’s voice fills the tense air.

"All I gotta do is keep her hooked until Nationals. Once Minhee catches wind of me messing around with his little sister, he'll be too wrapped up in that drama to think about anything else. Can't have him messing with the Olympic team, you know?...

…No, she doesn’t have a clue. I practically have her doing anything I say. Seriously, sex whenever I want! I missed my opportunity to be an actor because how i’ve been pretending to be in love with her makes me worthy of an Oscar….

I just used lines from those movies that girls watch, read a few Twitter threads, I did my research man c’mon.”

In the wake of the phone call clip, a heavy burdening silence hangs around the rink, suffocating you. Your mum adorns a victorious smile, proud of her revelation.

She’s the only one who was happy in this situation.

Minhee balls his fists, face going red and stature in fight mode, ready to knock everyone out of the way so he can lay his hands on Sunghoon. He isn’t even upset that he was planning all of this to sabotage him but rather that he hurt the one person most precious to him. You.

You find yourself at a crossroads, torn between the person you’ve come to love and the evidence presented to you. Sunghoon wouldn’t do this to you but the proof is right there, clear as day. The weight on your shoulders is unbearable as you contemplate the idea that maybe the Sunghoon you thought you knew, the one you love, actually isn’t who he says he is.

Sunghoon’s mouth hangs open and his eyebrows merge together as he processes what he just heard, “Y/N, I swear I didn’t say that, I have never…I wouldn’t…” He can’t even finish the words, still perplexed by the audio.

“Oh? But isn’t that your voice?” your mum says. It’s sick how much she seems to be enjoying this, almost like this will be the most gratifying ‘I told you so’ in history.

“Well…yeah but I did NOT say that,” he walks towards you, hands on his chest, “Baby, please believe me. I love you, I wouldn’t use you,” Sunghoon’s voice wavers with anger and sadness, conflicting feelings fighting one another as his mind bats them around.

The weight of humiliation and deceit bears down on you, threatening to shatter your composure. A storm of emotions swirls within, but you stubbornly refuse to let it consume you, denying anyone the satisfaction of witnessing your breakdown.

With determination, you storm out, deaf to the desperate pleas from Minhee and Sunghoon. Your singular focus is on escaping the prying eyes, sparing yourself from the judgment and pity.

How could Sunghoon betray you like this? You gave each part of yourself to him, only for him to throw it back in your face.

But it was so real, the connection you have with him, even from the start, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before so how could it all be a lie? The way he made you feel was otherworldly, it’s hard to believe for a second he would have manipulated you like that.

Was every whispered promise and affectionate moment just a ploy to damage your brother's chances?

As you push open the double doors, your mind is filled with conflicting thoughts that drown out the background noises of the outside world. The confusion envelopes you like a thick cloud and the cold air hits you like a slap in the face, a dramatic contrast to the hot chaos left behind in the rink.

Stumbling slightly, you make your way through the car park, the weight of betrayal and inner struggle increasing with each step.

Tears threaten to spill, but you clench your hands, determined to maintain composure. The weight of embarrassment, uncertainty, and sadness pushes over your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Y/N! Wait!” Sunghoon’s cry finally infiltrates its way through your ears, “Sweets, please talk to me,” his voice gets louder as he catches up, attempting to grab your wrist but you harshly pull it from his grasp.

You’ve had too many arguments in this car park for your liking, whoever runs the CCTV must sit with some popcorn every time you trudge out of Belmore.

“Was this your plan, huh? To use me like this?” This was your chance to find out why he did it, why he tricked you so easily, “Was all of it a lie? When you told me you loved me, was it all fake?” you batter question after question out to him, word vomiting your inner thoughts in hopes of some clarity to the situation.

Standing in front of you, Sunghoon’s expression reads more anger than hurt, “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. Don’t fucking diminish my feelings like that,” he argues back. It instilled a fury within him that you could even elude to his love being a lie.

“Oh? So what, getting under my brother’s skin was the plan but then you started to fall in love with me as time went on like one of those bullshit Rom Coms. Is that really the angle you’re pulling here?” You can hear your voice getting louder and you have no desire to lower it.

Sunghoon is a mirror of you, anger rising but it’s not aimed at you, it’s the situation he’s furious with, “Y/N I swear on my life I didn’t say any of those words back there. I…I don’t know what’s going on,” his shoulders raise as he fights internally with himself.

“That was your voice, Sunghoon. YOU. I hope you get your fucking Oscar, I’m sorry it was so hard to pretend to be in love with me, isn’t that what you said?” It’s not like you to scream at someone, however, the love you have for him is like a clutch in your heart, a burden you once thought was a privilege.

Tightening his jaw, he has a tough act on in front of you but his wavering voice gives him away, “I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much you can’t actually think for a second any of this was fake to me.” Sunghoon groans and slaps his cheeks lightly, a habit he has when he’s frustrated, “I don’t know how to prove to you I am not fucking lying. Y/N, you’re my whole world and you know it. Why are you believing your mum when she couldn’t give two shits about you,” he barely pushes out the last sentence from pure agitation.

Weeks and weeks have gone by and he has listened to you tell him stories about your mother and how she’s a horrible person. Now you’re standing in front of him suddenly believing her over the one person that has shown you all the love you’ve been missing. It’s enraging him to another level he didn’t even know he was capable of.

“Why shouldn’t I believe her? She literally has stone-cold proof of you admitting that you used me,” you argue.

He takes two long steps to stand in front of you, invading your bubble. His big hands hold your cheeks as he forces you to look into his eyes, “I didn’t say it. I didn’t send any texts. I haven’t got any friends except Jay and Jake and they would be on my ass if I pulled something like this. I love you so fucking much. Are you really going to believe a shitty audio clip instead of seeing what’s right in front of you?”

Either he’s telling the truth or he’s really committing to the role. The sincerity in his eyes clashes with the damning evidence, leaving you torn between love and reason.

Pushing him back, you shake your head. You can’t rationalise anything, the red you’re seeing clouding over your judgement. His love that poured through the words was evident but even on the call he said he faked being in love with you, maybe he was just a natural talent in the art of deception.

“You’re just like my brother, y’know, literal carbon copies of each other. You’ll do anything to win, to top one another in this stupid rivalry. First, it was him with your skate and now this, using me like I’m some pawn in your game.”

A weird silence fills the air as Sunghoon takes in your rambling, “What about my skate?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

As if the icy air just took over your body, your blood runs cold at your accidental admission. This isn’t how you wanted to tell him, truthfully, you didn’t want to tell him at all but if you did, you wanted it to be a bit gentler than this and well after you figured out what Minhee was thinking.

“Did Minhee fuck up my skate that day?” Sunghoon can’t believe it, his face going a paler shade as he takes in the gravity of your words, “My mum was right? You both had something to do with it?”

He is seething, his body shaking as he comes to terms with your words. Sunghoon has never felt more fury coursing through his blood as he does right now, never in his life did he ever think you could make him this angry.

“Of course, I didn’t, Sunghoon. Believe it or not, I was actually in this relationship for real, not pretending,” you spit back at his accusation.

“You knew he did this to my ankle, you listened to me argue with my mum and defend both of you to the point she won’t speak to me anymore and it was true?” The hurt in his voice drains some of the anger from you, making room for guilt to sit shallowly at the surface.

There wasn’t anything you could say right now that would make you look better in this scenario. You fucked up, you knew when you found out about the skate, you knew it while you cradled Sunghoon in your arms as he broke down, and you know it now.

What you did was fucked up. Lying to him was bang out of order.

However, since the guilt is only taking about a 1/8th of your body, the anger suffocates it, choking it down, “You’re turning it on me but I can’t control Minhee’s actions.”

“You kept it a secret, that’s just as bad,” he shouts, veins popping from his neck.

It hurts, the way he says it. He sounds so betrayed.

But he betrayed you, he’s been lying this whole relationship and now he’s getting angry at you for keeping one fact to yourself. You know it’s wrong to try and compare the two, to find a way and dilute the severity of your lie but you’re livid at him right now. Once you’ve calmed down you might be able to see clearly, that won’t be today though.

“Okay, fine. I should have told you but you’ve also been lying to me, and for a lot longer,” you retort back, staring into his eyes.

Stunned by your confession, his mind temporarily short circuits. You lied to him, after everything you saw him go through with his ankle, you neglected to mention that it was Minhee. He practically disowned his mother in honour of not just you but your brother…for it all to be true. And to top it all off, you still don’t believe him as he tells you that he loves you, that somehow that audio is fake.

Before Sunghoon can gather any words to say back, Coach Lee has a firm grip on his arm, the man’s eyes flicking between you both. It’s clear that even without hearing the conversation, your relationship was essentially over and Coach Lee didn’t want to meddle.

“Y/N, go home. Sunghoon, come with me.” His parental voice is switched on as if he’s telling his kids to stop playing with their food or drawing on the walls.

You and Sunghoon stay stagnant as you watch each of your worlds crumble beneath you. All that you knew and loved got swept away on a random Tuesday afternoon.

And you just let it happen.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen angst #enha angst #melting point #aj writes #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader

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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months

Text

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 6: Keep Me From Falling✨

Club Owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I have been writing this one on and off for a little over a month, and it was a lot! Be prepared for an emotional rollercoaster and please pay attention to those tags. This one gets dark. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being the best beta and making this chapter shine! 🥰 I would like as much feedback on this chapter, so don’t be afraid to reblog or comment because your comments are what sparks my writing 🩷

Chapter Summary: After fighting your feelings for weeks, you decide to go back to the club. Back to those dark shades of red where brown eyes pull you under and feelings become much more than you bargained for.

Word Count: 14.1k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Tags: A lot of angst, jealousy, so many feelings, yearning, anxiety, toxic ex, flashbacks of physical abuse and trauma, soft Joel, protective Joel, no use y/n, a lot of tears, fist fight, I don’t want to put any spoilers so I will omit some of the tags, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The flashing red lights outside Club Inferno shine bright against the glow of the full moon. A brisk breeze cuts through the humid air, blowing through your long waves and kissing your bare shoulders. It sinks underneath the dark blue summer dress that clings to your figure. Your body hums with nerves, with need. You want Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

He’s all you think about, he’s all you want to think about. Even at work, when you should be focusing on organizing bookshelves and paperwork, your mind always goes to him.

Sure, maybe at first you didn’t want a relationship, didn’t want to blur the lines. But you liked him, you really liked him. And you’re not sure when that line got crossed, but you were ready. Ready to take it to the next level. Needed to. You needed more. More of him.

So, now was your chance to make that happen, to tell him exactly what you wanted from him. A relationship. It was what you always wanted. You were just so scared to let your walls down again, but for him you would. For Joel you’d do just about anything.

If you didn’t… well, you’ve already lost him once. You’re not sure if you can lose him again.

When you reach the glossy black doors and step through after getting your ID checked, you see the club is buzzing with crowds of people tonight. The music is loud and blaring, even upstairs is jam-packed with bodies. But you only came here for one thing tonight: Joel Miller.

You stop at the corner of the bar, brushing your hand against the sleek bar top and run your hand against the cool material. Scanning the crowd, you look for the handsome man that stands out amongst the rest. The man with the dark brown eyes that makes every single nerve ending vibrate inside you every time you set your eyes on him. That smoldering, captivating, charming man that sets your heart on fire.

A couple of girls in skimpy dresses get up from their bar stools and leave you room to see the rest of the crowd at the bar. Fresh faces of men and women you haven’t seen here before cross your sight until you get to the very end of the bar. Your heart gets stuck in your throat when you see it.

Right there at the very end of the bar top sits Joel, all muscle in a button-up crimson flannel with the top three buttons undone to expose his broad chest, dark hair peeking out of the open shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, accentuating the defined veins that wrap around his forearms, and the black watch clasped on his left wrist just sets it off even more. But what paralyzes you is the fact that he’s sitting at the bar with another woman. Someone who isn’t you.

Her big, blonde curls fall around her pink blush-filled cheeks, and her tight red dress exposes large breasts that spill from the top of the low cut design. Red lips purse and laugh as she beams at Joel every time she brushes her hand against his fist that’s clenched around an amber glass of whiskey.

Two weeks without him and he’s already wrapped around another woman’s finger. Go fucking figure. You told him it was all just for fun, but it never really was that to you, was it?

Your blood runs cold and you feel as if you just got hit with a metal bat against the back of the head. You tightly dig your manicured nails into the bar top. It feels as if a sharp knife slices deep into your back, slowly carving against your spine as it splits you in half.

Another light touch to his hand as she leans over to whisper in his ear sets your nerves on fire. You watch him laugh; that crooked smile that makes you dizzy every time you look at it now eats away at your insides. You can’t watch this. You can’t fucking do this tonight. He was supposed to be yours, but you’re too late…

You feel a hot prick against the back of your eyes as your vision blurs, fiery tears bleeding into your eyeliner as you back up, your hand still clutching the bar top. You don’t watch where you’re going, and an entire glass of some kind of alcohol slides off the bar top and onto the floor, shattering and sloshing liquid as it splashes against your black high heels.

The crowd around the bar goes silent as they all turn to face you, but what stuns you into place is when Joel looks up and sees you standing there looking like a lost puppy. Your bottom lip quivers as you blink back tears, staring between him and the blonde girl that can’t keep her fucking hands off him.

His eyes grow wide as he looks at you stunned, immediately standing up from his bar stool as he pushes back the woman’s hand that reaches for him once again. His broad shoulders roll back as his full attention is on you, and then he’s moving fast, calling your name over the loud music as his voice gets washed out by the blaring noise.

You turn and push through the crowd, clawing your way blindly to a safe space where maybe you can breathe air that isn’t polluted again. You feel nailed to the wooden floor, chains ripping into your ankles as you force your legs to keep going. Joel calls your name, but you don’t stop to turn back around. You’ll break down in tears if you stop now. So you keep going, dragging your heavy feet until you reach the double doors and barrel your way outside.

The night air stills around you as the full moon shines bright behind fluffy clouds. The quiet parking lot is filled with parked cars, but everyone is inside. Not a soul stands outside besides you. That is, until Joel comes crashing through the double doors and calls your name again loudly.

“Hey, stop!” Joel yells out of breath as you hear his boots scuff across the pavement. “Didn’t you hear me callin’ your name?”

You turn around, crossing your arms over your chest and putting on a brave face, not letting him see the tears that scorch behind your sad eyes. “Guess not,” you mumble as you look down at the dusty cement.

“Hey, will you jus’ stop?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows as the lines on his forehead scrunch together intently. You shake your head and don’t answer, but he doesn’t like that at all. “Angel, talk to me.”

“Don’t call me angel,” you mumble as you retreat a step back from his advances.

He takes a step forward and reaches out an arm to try to catch you. When he curls his calloused fingers over your wrist, you pull it out of his grip and shake him off. “Don’t,” you warn sharply as you turn your head the other direction.

You hear Joel huff out in frustration as he fights to compose himself. “It was that girl, wasn’t it? Is that what you’re so worked up about, huh?”

You bite your lower lip to keep from screaming and whirl back to him as you fight with yourself not to lose control. You purse your lips and then spill yourself to him. “Oh, I don’t know, Joel. Maybe you should go back to your little date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” he expresses as his jaw clenches up, “it was jus’ a drink. She came up to me first, and all I did was offer to buy her a drink. She’s an old client of mine, nothing more.”

“An old client, huh?” you scoff and feel your cheeks burn hot.

“Yeah. Tommy and I did a job at her company’s site.”

“I’m sure you did.” You roll your eyes and scrape your heel against the concrete.

“Angel, I didn’t ask her here tonight. She jus’ showed up unannounced. What you saw was nothing.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why was she all over you? Did you buy her a drink so you could sleep with her just like you did with me?!” Your voice comes out louder than you wanted it to, but you’re so worked up that you can’t control your flaring nostrils and watery eyes. You can practically taste the stench of regret in your throat. You should’ve never come here, should’ve never messed with a man like him. Tall, dominant, charming, and so goddamn handsome. What the fuck did you think was going to happen?

“Whoa, easy there, darlin’. I wasn’t gonna sleep with her,” he says carefully as his voice stays even. Almost gentle enough to calm you down a bit, but even that makes you more uneasy.

“No? It sure looked like you were enjoying yourself, and she seemed to be all over you,” you spit out venomously, kicking the end of your heel into the hard cement.

“Why are you actin’ like this?” he asks, exasperated, his eyebrows knitting together into a hard line.

“Acting like what?” You seethe as you entwine your fingers tightly together, desperately trying to anchor yourself.

“Actin’ jealous! All I did was buy her a drink. If I would’ve known you were comin’ I wouldn’t have even…”

“Wouldn’t have what? Offered to eat her out on your fucking pool table!” you screech.

“Jus’ stop!” he growls, making your eyes go wide and your heart hammer impossibly fast in your chest. “Is there somethin’ you want to say?” he asks as his jaw ticks and arches an eyebrow, his dark eyes meeting your gaze.

Your voice is suddenly as small as a mouse as you reply, “Say something? No, I…”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want more. Remember? I asked you, was willing to give you more. I wanted to give you more. All you had to do was say the words, angel. That’s all you had to do.”

He stands there staring at you, eyes locked with yours as you dig your long nails deep into the fabric of your dress, nervous sweat pooling at the edges of your soft curls as you bite your tongue in agony.

All you had to do was say the words. Why couldn’t you say those fucking words back in that little diner? What was so goddamn hard about that? You wanted him. You fucking wanted him. So badly that it actually felt like your heart was shattering in your chest.

“But you… after that night at the diner, you gave me the cold shoulder,” you finally reply. “You practically iced me out, didn’t ask me to come back to the club, couldn’t text me back, didn’t even…”

“I was givin’ you space,” Joel interrupts. “I didn’t think… fuck. I didn’t think you wanted to come back!” He rakes a hand slowly through his silver threaded scruff and sighs, cursing under his breath as he stares at you with pure turmoil in his hazy eyes.

“But I did want to come back! Isn’t that what I showed up for tonight? To see you?” you ask, appalled, eyes red with tears pooling across your glassy irises.

“I don’t know, angel, why don’t you tell me!” His voice sounds so angry, so gravelly, so very hurt. And you see it in the flared nostrils and wide eyes. He’s just asking questions which you should’ve answered a long time ago.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want space. I never did…” Your eyes gloss over, and your bottom lip quivers as you fight to keep yourself in one piece. You want to say something, anything to make this stop, but your words run dry as he stares at you carefully.

He looks at you fiercely another moment as he licks his bottom lip in frustration. “Tell me somethin’, will ya? What is it that you want from me?”

The question comes out almost like a snake just bit your ankle. Alarming, unexpected. “I… uh…” You can’t even formulate a coherent sentence as the words rush through your head. I was willing to give you more. I wanted to give you more. But they remain stuck in your throat, unable to escape.

He takes two steps forward, adjusting the rolled up sleeves of his red flannel. “What. Do. You. Want?”

The question taunts you, words building as you try to unjumble them. You can’t think straight, not when his mahogany cologne is burning your nostrils, not when his dark chocolate eyes are honing into yours, not when he’s so close that you want to drop all pretense and jump into his strong arms. But you can’t. It’s not that simple.

This is all getting too complicated, and you don’t know how much further you can go without putting yourself into a vulnerable position. You already are in a vulnerable position, so why can’t you just say exactly how you feel?

After your silence, Joel rakes a hand through his dark, greying scruff and sighs again. “Goddamn it, angel. Jus’ tell me what you want.”

“I… I….” You fidget and keep your eyes locked on his in a panic.

For fuck’s sake just tell him what you want!

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose as he huffs in defeat. When he looks back up at you, he takes a long, slow breath and nods his head. “I can see this isn’t easy for you. But darlin’, if you don’t tell me what you want then I can’t give you that. Now, do you want me to go walk back into my club and go back to that girl, or…?”

“No!” you plead as you reach your arm out and grab his wrist, holding it like it’s the only thing that’ll save you from falling to your death. Joel looks down at your hand gripping his tanned skin and looks back up with a mix of grief and hope in his eyes.

“No?” he asks with eyebrows raised in question. “So, tell me. What is it that you want? Is it me you want? Do you want more, need more? Because I can give that to you, angel. I can give you so much more… if you’ll jus’ let me.”

“You… you left me alone on the curb after I tried asking you about the guitar lesson…” you stammer out.

He sighs and runs a hand swiftly through his hair, blowing out a long breath as he finds the words he wants to say. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I jus’... I was confused and angry and hurt because I thought… I didn’t think you wanted to be with me, and I really fuckin’ liked you.” He stops to correct himself. “Well, like you. And I apologize for jus’ icin’ you out. You didn’t deserve that. You never deserved that. I was jus’ sorta hopin’ we could be more, ya know…”

His words leave you standing with your jaw dropped and eyes wide. “I thought… I thought I could be more than jus’ someone you hooked up with,'' Joel continues. “I wanted… I wanted to give you the world...”

Jesus. He’s just as wrecked as you are. Holy shit.

Your hand drops from his wrist as you fidget with the hem of your dress, nerves rushing through you like a raging river. He reaches his long arm out and glides calloused fingers gently down your jawline, pushing a curl behind your ear. And it feels so good. So good that you just want to melt inside his warm touch.

Say it. Say it right fucking now before you ruin everything all over again.

“I want… I want… y—”

Your sentence is interrupted by the loud slamming of the front door of the club and then the pounding of feet on the pavement as you hear keys jangling from jeans and mumbling of gibberish you can’t understand. You jump out of Joel’s reach from the fright and compose yourself to act normal in front of a stranger coming out of the club.

When you look up to see who so rudely interrupted your confession, your eyes go wide and the breath gets knocked from your chest as you take in exactly who stalks toward you.

Jason. Your ex. Holy shit…

He says your name in surprise, calling out to you as you freeze up in place. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking real. Your stomach drops at the sight of his large figure, and your mouth drops open in shock.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he smirks as his murky green eyes stare coldly back at you. “Hi there, babydoll. Remember me?”

You blink once, twice, but he doesn’t disappear. This isn’t a dream. He fucking found you.

“J… Jason?” Your eyes go as wide as an owl’s, your palms sweating as you take in his figure. Tall, tattoos covering his entire right arm, muddy green eyes that could kill, blonde shaggy hair that falls to his neckline, strong muscles that could snap a man in half, a gold chain glinting around his neck, and worn hands that could tear into your flesh.

“Miss me?” he smirks as you see nothing but coldness in his swampy eyes.

“I thought you were in jail…” you say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear as he moves toward you slowly, his strides wide and terrifying as he scuffs clean sneakers against the cool pavement.

“They let me out on good behavior,” he laughs as he shakes his head, pieces of blonde falling into his eyes as he pushes them away. “Didn’t know I’d run into you here. But I’m sooooo glad I did,” he chuckles, stepping closer.

Joel stands and watches the two of you, a conflicting look filling his face as his eyebrows furrow together in concentration. He looks so confused, which he should be. You didn’t tell him about Jason, never even planned to. You thought all memories of Jason were gone as you worked so hard to forget, but now they’re back with a vengeance, and you start to remember everything.

“You… you’re not supposed to be here,” you gulp nervously as you take a hesitant step back, but he keeps stalking towards you. Getting closer and closer until he’s only a couple steps in front of you.

“Baby, I can be anywhere I want to be,” he croons sickeningly. “And looks like I picked a good night to come out to the club.” You can smell the alcohol falling off his chapped lips, can see how drunk he is already with the way he sways and slurs. This isn’t good, none of this is good.

You take one more step back, but he grabs your wrist hard and holds out your left arm as he drags a predatory finger over the faded scar that sits on the inside of your wrist. “I see this hasn’t gone away. A keepsake to remember me by, huh?” he teases as he yanks you closer to him.

“Let go,” you demand with a desperate plea in your voice as you try to shove away from him, but he only jabs his nail beds into your wrist as you wince in pain. “I said let go,” you whine as hate fills his cloudy eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” he chuckles, holding you in place.

“Get the fuck off her,” Joel growls as he pushes Jason away with barely any effort. Jason almost falls off the edge of the curb.

Joel looks at you with concern laced in his gentle brown eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks as he looks at the way you hold the inside of your wrist. The faded scar comes into his view and Joel stares at it, his jaw clenching as realization caves in. “Did he… did he do that to you?”

You don’t answer, but the way your eyes start to water tells him everything he needs to know.

His eyes turn from concerned to full-on burning, rage taking over as he flexes his fingers into a tight fist and ticks his jaw up. He’s not just mad, no. He’s furious. Something inside you clenches up as you see how wrecked he looks; he looks like he wants to eat Jason alive.

“Hey, fucker! Step away from her. She’s mine,” Jason warns as he shoves Joel hard in the shoulder as Joel stumbles back a few steps.

Joel snarls at Jason, and you swear you’ve never seen him look this feral before. They’re going to fight. Oh, god. No. This isn’t what you wanted. They can’t just…

“She ain’t your girl, asshole.” Joel snaps. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

Jason doesn’t listen; he just hounds Joel and pushes him hard against the brick wall as he runs over and grabs the collar of Joel’s crimson flannel. “The fuck she is!” Jason yells aggressively. “Who the fuck are you to tell me she’s not, hmm? Have you been messing around with her? Yeah you have, I can practically smell you on her.” Jason slams Joel’s head against the hard bricks.

No, no, no, not Joel!

“Jason, stop!” you scream as you run over and try to intercept.

“You have no right bein’ here on my property, putting your hands on me or her. So, I’m gonna tell you one more time. Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops,” Joel snarls as he grabs the front of Jason’s shirt and pushes him hard out of his grasp.

Jason’s jaw clenches, and his eyes grow impatient. “NO.” The next thing you know, Jason is throwing his fist in the air, and it comes down like lightning against Joel’s jaw. Your eyes grow wide as you hear just how hard the punch hits him, and you’re gasping in horror as you watch, stunned in silence.

This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.

Joel takes a few seconds to recover, then he’s moving fast as he shoves Jason against the rough bricks and throws a punch to his nose. You hear the snapping sound of broken bones, but Jason just keeps going.

Jason grabs a hold of Joel’s collar and throws him hard while another punch lands against his face. You can’t stand it, can’t watch them beat each other to death. You don’t want any part of this. You just want all the loud, violent sounds to stop. You have to do something.

Before Jason throws another punch in Joel’s direction, you step between them and try to push Jason away. “Jason, I said stop!”

Before you know what happens next, Jason slaps you so hard across the cheek that it nearly makes you see stars. He pushes you roughly and watches you lose your balance on the concrete. Cupping your cheek, you fall to the ground with a thud as it all comes back to you in a flash. You hear Joel scream your name in the distance and see him throwing Jason to the ground out of the corner of your eye, but you’re barely even there anymore.

Your vision goes spotty, and all you can hear is the white noise as your ears start to ring insufferably loud. Your palms burn as you dig your fingers into the cold concrete, feeling smaller and more invisible than you’ve ever felt in your life as your heart rate kicks up as the adrenaline rushes out. Your scar aches, your eyes shutting as you remember everything that happened all those years ago. You remember, you remember it all.

You remember how drunk Jason got that dark, rainy evening. You remember him cussing you out as you fixed dinner for him, remember him demanding you to bring him another bottle of beer, remember him chewing you out because you didn’t twist the lid open for him, remember him throwing the glass dinner plate across the room as sharp glass littered the soft carpet.

And that’s when he snapped.

He shattered the glass bottle against the edge of the coffee table as broken glass and alcohol spilled everywhere on the cream carpet. You remember him pushing you down into the shards, the sharp edges cutting into your skin; remember him hovering over you as he dug a piece deep into your wrist and called you a filthy whore, dragging the glass deeper into your skin. Remember all the blood that was spilling out, staining the carpet crimson as he made you look him dead in the eyes and threatened to do worse to you. You remember the police barging into the small apartment as they body-slammed him to the ground and cuffed his hands behind his back. You remember the ambulance taking you away. You remember how close you were to dying, how you almost didn’t make it out alive, how you woke up shaking and scared in the hospital bed, afraid he’d come back to finish you off. You remember it all, you remember everything.

Your cheek burns hot as you cup it with your palm, feeling the scrapes on your hand bleed into the pain as wet tears spill down your face. It’s like it’s happening all over again. The pain, the screaming, the drunk mess of a man, the accusations, the absolute sheer terror you feel seeping through your thin bones. You feel so fragile, so torn, and you feel as if you're slipping through the concrete cracks, dying a little inside.

The faint noise of thrown punches and bodies slamming to the ground reaches your ears again, but you don’t have the strength to look up. You can only sit still, fade away with the noise, try to piece yourself back together when you know you can’t. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.

All of a sudden, the front doors of the club slam open, and you hear that familiar warm drawl. “That’s enough, Joel. You got him good,” Tommy says firmly.

You hear the faint grunts of Joel sending punches right and left to Jason who lies on the ground just taking the hits, too drunk now to even comprehend what’s happening. You wince at the noises, the punches reverberating through your body just like you were lying on that floor passed out cold, only the echoes of policemen and the ER workers picking your lifeless body up off the glass covered floor.

“Hey, I said enough,” Tommy repeats. You hear the throws of punches die out into silence, only hearing quiet shuffling that echoes in your ringing ears.

Suddenly, you feel someone’s hands on your shoulders, shaking you to get up. You shy away, screaming no, but then the hands are back on you. They’re warm, welcoming, comforting. A ray of sunshine you need to pick you up off the ground because you don’t have the strength to do it yourself.

“Hey, look at me,” he says adamantly, but you pull out of his enticing grip that begs for you to hold on to him.

“No,” you say sternly as you fall back on your palms and wince in pain. You’re so cold, so weak, so broken. How did you ever pick yourself up off the ground that first time?

Joel reaches for you again, and this time it’s more careful, delicate. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s me, it’s Joel. ‘S okay now. ‘S okay.” This time you let him help you off the cold ground, turning you around to face him as you sit on your bruised knees, staring down at the hollow ground.

“Hey, can you look up for me?” he asks quietly as you shake your head no and keep your eyes glued to the ground. You can’t do it, you’ll surely break if you see even the tiniest scratch on his face.

“Baby, look in my eyes. Please, jus’ look at me. C’mon, sweetheart,” he coos as he cups your chin and lifts your head.

Your breathing is erratic, your pulse quickening as you try to focus on him and him alone. You lock eyes with him, seeing those concerned flecks of dark brown swirl in your vision as he breathes out and sighs. “There ya go, nice and slow. Jus’ breathe for me.”

Your eyes go wide as you see the deep red and purple bruises covering his strong left cheekbone, a tinge of crimson blood covering his knuckles he used it to avenge your honor. He got hurt. He’s hurt because of you.

“Joel, you… you’re hurt,” you stutter out as you place a hand gently over his bruises as he winces back in pain.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. You’re the one I’m worried ‘bout. Are you… okay?” he asks cautiously as he traces his calloused thumb over your jawline. You pick apart the question, going over the events that had just happened in the span of ten minutes. You weren’t okay, you were far from okay.

“I… I’m…” Your mumbling stops as you hear Jason yelling and stirring up trouble as he rambles on about how he’ll be back. You catch him saying “slut” and calling you and Joel vulgar names as security calls the cops.

“Sweetheart, say somethin’,” Joel pleads as he drops his large hand over yours and squeezes.

The wave of shock hits you like lightning as your scar burns, and the memories flood your mind in the present. This time you see Joel lying there in the puddle of blood, wrist cut up with Jason standing over him with a bottle of alcohol and a smug smirk tugging at his cheeks as his dark eyes stare down at your and Joel’s dying bodies. It’s too much, it’s too fucking much.

You feel hot tears swarm your vision as you throw your arms around Joel and sink your face into his warm flannel. The one that smells like him, his musk, his warm scent. The tears don’t stop pouring, your sobs echoing in the distance as you feel your body completely melt against Joel. You hear him call your name, feel him try to talk to you as he tries to get your attention, but you’re too far gone, too broken to feel anything.

“Tommy!” Joel screams as you hear Tommy’s footsteps scuff quickly over the cement. “Make sure that fucker never steps foot in our club again, and make sure the cops lock him up. Fucker assaulted me and her tonight. I’m gonna take her home. Jus’ make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.” Joel snarls as you feel his arms snake around you.

“Don’t worry, Joel. I’ve got it. Motherfucker is gonna pay for what he did,” Tommy spits as he storms off to the front doors.

Joel tries to stir you from his grasp, but you just hold onto him as tight as a koala. “Sweetheart, hey. We need to get up. Do you think you can get up?” Joel asks carefully as he tries to pry you up. You don’t budge, don’t even make a sound as tears blur your vision.

“Alright, c’mon,” he sighs as he stoops down and picks you up, cradling you in his strong arms as he carries you to his truck while your eyes soak the front of his flannel. “I’ve got you, babygirl. It’s gonna be okay,” he coos as he brushes his lips over the top of your head and sets you down in the passenger seat.

He fastens the seatbelt over your lap until it clicks and lingers his fingers against your cheek. You pull away from him, leaning your head to the opposite side as tears begin to soak the fabric of your soft dress. You hear him sigh and listen to him back up, gently closing the passenger door while he shuffles to the driver’s side.

He gets himself situated in the seat, and you can feel that hovering gaze over you as he runs his fingers down his clipped scruff. You sink into the edge of the door, curling yourself into a tight ball as you feel his stare smother your insides.

You don’t want him to see you like this, all broken and torn to shreds. He wasn’t supposed to know this side of you. The part you keep closed up in a tight glass bottle that drifts off to sea, where no one will see the mess you keep hidden away.

This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen, but it did. It did.

You close your eyes tight and lean against the glass window, throwing up your shields as you drown out the sounds of the low vibrations of the truck, keeping Joel's concerned, prying eyes from your glassy stare, even blocking out his gravelly voice as he whispers soft words under his breath.

This is too much, it’s all too much. You just want to disappear, let shadows envelop you in darkness, fade away so you don’t have to keep living those horrible nightmares night after night.

This was all Jason’s fault, all yours for falling for a man who never loved you. The only thing he did was shatter your world completely and keep you from forming intimate relationships. And now you were permanently scarred, just like the mark against your wrist.

You’re a fucking piece of work, and nobody deserves that burden now.

Joel locks his fingers around the leather steering wheel, gripping so tight that his knuckles are painted white as concerned eyes flick to your fragile form in the passenger seat. His thoughts fly wild, his breath quick, his teeth bared as he thinks of what that fucker did to you.

He’ll drive down to the county jail this weekend, make sure Jason’s locked up tight, make sure he will never place another finger on your beautiful face. He fucking slapped you, knocked you down, and shed violent threats over your crouched body. He’s a dead man.

Joel ticks his jaw, snaps his teeth together as he thinks of the asshole that hurt you. He swears to god if Jason ever lays another hand on you, he will personally kill him himself. He’d snap his neck, would make sure the fucker was ten feet in the ground, would fucking destroy the man that assaulted you. He’d burn everything, if only that meant he could keep you safe. If only that meant you were his…

He rakes a hand heavily through his scruff, takes another long glance at you as you shake and whimper against the glass window, folding yourself into the smallest shape you can possibly get yourself in. And it fucking hurts him to see you like this, all fragile and broken and bleeding. He wants to take all the pain away, but he doesn’t know how, doesn’t exactly know what you need, but he’ll be gentle, delicate, whatever you need. He would be that for you. He’d be anything you needed him to be.

He gently drops a hand from the steering wheel, reaching out until he stops himself when he sees the jagged scar on your left wrist. How had he never seen it before, how had he not noticed? How was this the first time he’s looked at it?

God, he’s such a fool, a fucking asshole. The way he iced you out, the way he didn’t reply to your texts, the way he fucking flirted with a woman tonight when he damn well knew all he wanted was you. How could he be so reckless with your feelings? He fucking knew better, and look where that ended.

He should’ve figured out the signs sooner. The way you always widened your eyes and turned your head before he could sink his lips down on yours, the way you were so hesitant and careful about everything you did with him. Why didn’t he just stop after that stupid question in the diner, when he asked you what exactly the two of you were doing? He should’ve fucking known the way you tried to change the subject, the way you lost all form of words, your breathy stutters. He should’ve fucking saw your wrist and knew someone had hurt you. But he didn’t, and now he was the biggest asshole for falling silent and leaving you thinking he didn’t want you. And he fucking hates himself for that. Because he wanted you the entire goddamn time.

God. He’s wanted you from the first moment he saw you in his club, sitting there all doe-eyed and looking up at him as your smile took his breath away.

He’s such a goddamn fool, and he just wishes he could take it all back and start over. He’d be so careful with you, and now you’re sitting there scattered in broken pieces of glass, but he’ll try to put you back together the best he can. He has to try, he just has to because you’re all he really wants anymore.

You’re a living, breathing angel, and he’ll set himself on fire if that’s what it takes to win you back.

The truck stops in a dark driveway, one that’s lit with dim lights glowing against a tan garage. You don’t look up, not even when the hum of the engine cuts off and Joel frantically slams his door closed and practically sprints to the passenger side.

When he opens it he hesitates a second, assessing your tear-soaked face as you turn away from him. You don’t want him to see you like this, but it’s too late. So why are you shying away from him?

He carefully unbuckles you and gently lifts you up, cradling you against his firm chest as you sink against it, inhaling his fresh soap smell, the pine scent dripping off his silvery scruff. You smell it then: the scent of safety, of your knight in shining armor.

Joel carries you into the house, taking you up the creaking stairs and what you assume to be up to his bedroom. You don’t lift your eyes, only squeezing them shut so you can forget the aftermath of showing up to the club. You try to block out the blonde woman, Jason, the fight with Joel, the absolute monstrosity of the events that led you here to Joel’s house. You try to forget, but you can’t. You just can’t.

You hear a door swing open as you make it to the top of the stairs, his fast beating chest breathing rapidly as you cling to his warm flannel. You could stay curled up against his chest for hours, as long as you don’t have to open your eyes, as long as you can just breathe him and forget the rest of the world.

Those thoughts are short-lived when you feel the back of your thighs brushing against a soft comforter, and then he’s unlatching you from his flannel. You unwind your fingers and fall against the bed, allowing him to take a step back as the numbness seeps back inside you.

You tug at your dress, the room feeling both too overwhelmingly sweltering and also as cold as ice chilling down every single nerve in your body. You just need to get out of this tight thing; the fabric is suffocating and squeezing you like Jason’s rough hands are still wrapped around your throbbing wrists.

You jump when you hear Joel sliding a drawer shut, your fingers still tugging against your itchy fabric. You want it off, need to get it off, but you can’t seem to make your hands or body work.

As if Joel senses you struggling against yourself, you see him carefully walking over to you in your periphery, his polished boots scuffing against the dark grey carpet as you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Your fingers fidget against the tainted material, and you just want it off now. He slowly, ever so delicately stills your hand, his palm flattening over the top of yours as he whispers quietly. “Here, let me help you out there, sweetheart. ‘S alright, easy now.”

He slowly tugs your zipper down, ever so slowly pulling the summer dress off your body, and then unclasping the buckle of your heels as he frees them from your aching feet.

He gently helps you lift your arms as a long dark blue t-shirt envelops your body, the soft material hitting just below your knees as it clouds you in whiffs of summer breeze and Joel all together. It makes you feel safe, like he’s surrounding you in just him. And it feels so damn good.

He grunts as he lifts himself off the floor, and then he treads into his bathroom, throwing the bright light on as water starts to pour from his sink.

Drip, drip, drip. The sounds the water makes as it crashes into the sink makes your heart slow, makes you think about the entire night, makes you cringe as Jason’s face comes into view. You see red eyes, hear slurring curses, feel the glass cutting straight through your fragile skin.

You grab hold of your wrist, embedding your nails into the skin as you wince at the memory. No more, not tonight. You can’t bear to think of it, so you block it out as the numb feeling tingles down your spine and surrounds every single bone in your body. You shut your eyes tight and count to ten in your head, hoping the voices will go away, but they never do. They’re just… ghosts.

A few seconds later you hear Joel pad back into the room, his footsteps so slow as he takes step after step until the floor stops creaking. You open your eyes and find him kneeling in front of you, his eyes so lathered with concern that it makes his chocolate irises lighten just a little, and it makes your heart skip in your chest.

He looks at you like you’re so broken, fragile, but you are. He hesitates as his right hand flexes up with a tan soaked washcloth in his grip, like he’s afraid to touch you, like you’re made of glass.

“Is this okay? Can I…” His gravelly voice fades off, and his brows knit together as he studies your somber features slowly.

Permission? He’s asking for permission to touch you? Of course he is. After tonight he figures you don’t want to be touched, and he’s right. You don’t. But Joel, you’ll allow him the honor.

He slowly reaches his arm up, brushing a strand of hair delicately behind your ear, and then he brings the cool washcloth up and runs it over your stinging cheek. You wince a little at the pain, but you quickly lean into the cold material and let it soak your heated skin.

He’s so careful with you, brown eyes flicking every few seconds to assess your face, making sure you’re okay, making sure you won’t just slip like sand into the cracks of the floor. That’s what you would be doing, if it wasn’t for Joel taking care of you.

You didn’t ask him to do this, didn’t imagine this being your weekend night with eyeliner running down your face or your eyes swollen and red. You probably look like a giant mess, but isn’t that what you are?

You flick your gaze up to his and spot the colorful bruise that flashes deep purple and crimson on the side of his left cheek, the exact same place as yours, and it makes your heart drop in your chest.

Guilt spirals through your head, your chest, and then drops to your stomach. This is all your fault. Joel is hurt because of you. He wouldn’t have swollen knuckles and discolored bruises on his fingers and cheek if it wasn’t for you.

Your vision starts to blur, your fingers twisting into the soft sheets, and your body starts humming with vibrations as you begin to shake.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

Joel’s eyes widen, and his free hand lands on your thigh as he looks at you as if you’ll shatter into a million pieces. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?” he asks as his mouth twitches into a hard line.

You shake your head and whimper out, “No, you didn’t. I’m just…” You freeze up and almost lose your words. “You got hurt. You’re hurt because of me. This is all my fault,” you whine as another tear escapes your eye.

“No, sweetheart. Not at all,” he murmurs as he reaches up and brushes a tear away from your cheek before it can fall to the floor.

He cups your face with both hands, his calloused fingers feeling like warmth, and then he gazes at you with so much intent and sorrow in his eyes that they start to glisten. “Don’t you dare for one second think any of this is your fault. None of it is, you didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fill with tears as they start to spill over, your body trembling as you finally release it all out of your system. “Then why does it feel like it is?” you cry out, the room temperature dropping fifteen degrees as you shake with guilt and hurt.

“Oh, sweetheart. No. C’mere.” He throws off his boots and scoops you up, landing in the soft sheets as he cradles you to his chest while he pulls the dark blue comforter over your shaking body. “‘S’okay, babygirl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he coos, folding his broad arms over your back as he takes one hand and gently runs it down the back of your scalp, soothing you of everything you’ve held pent up inside that you never got the courage to let slip out.

“Joel, the reason I didn’t tell you…”

“Shhh. Not now, sweetheart. You can tell me in the mornin’. Right now I jus’ want you to relax, breathe, sleep. Jus’ focus on deep breaths. I’ve got you, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore. I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” he soothes as his thick fingers stroke tenderly through your hair, easing you of the tension that you hold in your shoulders.

“But I… he… you…” You just can’t make sense of your jumbled words.

“Easy now. Easy,” he whispers, pulling you closer into him so you can nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck where it’s warm and safe and smells like the middle of an autumn’s day.

You breathe him in, grasping on to his woodsy scent, sinking as deep as you can go against his broad chest, fingers curling possessively against his white undershirt, steadying your breaths to the slow rhythm of his heart, reaching for him and only him as your panicked mind starts to ease into calm waters, Joel the anchor that keeps you from drowning.

You keep latched tight to him as you start to let your body get dragged into darkness where no one can hurt you, where only Joel keeps you floating into a deep, serene place where your body stills, your galloping heart starting to slow to quiet footsteps as you hear the deep sighs slip from his lips, letting it lull you to sleep as he holds you tighter.

The last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is the sound of his deep, gravelly Southern drawl where you feel most relaxed at. “You’re safe with me, angel. Always.” And then you slip into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

The fan blows overhead, his head resting up against the headboard as he stares at your sleeping form that clings to his white t-shirt. His hand repeatedly strokes your soft locks, as if the motion will make the panic ease from your mind, as if he can make you feel safe, where no one else can touch your delicate form again.

He brushes his lips against your forehead, caressing them over every perfect line that makes up your gorgeous face, needing to give you everything he can. He thinks you’re so perfect, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and now all he wants to do is take care of you, the way you should’ve been taking care of long ago.

He slips a hand under the material of his t-shirt that splays over your body, carefully dragging his fingernails over your lower back in slow, meticulous circles as he soothes you from the panic.

“Nobody’s ever gonna make you feel unwanted again, baby. He’s never gonna hurt you again, will never lay his eyes on you because I’ll keep you safe. You’re so perfect, so beautiful, jus’ like the rarest flower in the world. That’s what you are. Rare, my love. You’re so rare,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, dragging his lips over your soft skin as he closes his eyes and breaths in the lilac perfume that envelops your very being.

You stir beneath him, nuzzling closer as you groan and curl your fingers against his neck, getting as close as you possibly can. He almost thinks you’re awake, but your deep breaths and fluttering eyelashes say you’re in a deep sleep, somewhere far away.

He hugs you closer and rests his chin on your head, fingers scraping softly against your soft skin, exactly how you like it. He’s always wanted to keep you safe, but now it’s his mission, like his life depends on it. He’ll spend his entire life convincing you if he has to. You’re his now, and he’s never going to let you go.

He lets his eyelids shut as the fan hums him to sleep, keeping his arms wrapped safely around you, his lips pressing once more to your forehead as sleep drags him under. And for once in his life, he sleeps the rest of the night because you are safe in his arms.

You wake to the chirping of singing birds as the sun shines brightly through the sheer curtains, your eyes slowly peeling open as you feel deep, slow breaths underneath you. You quietly stir, groaning as you tug his t-shirt against your fingers, suddenly very aware you stayed the night at Joel’s in his bed, in his arms.

You feel Joel readjust beneath you, lifting your chin as you’re met with the most beautiful sleepy brown eyes you’ve ever seen. And the drawl of his sleep-ridden gravelly voice doesn’t make it any better. “Mornin’, sunshine. You sleep okay?” He curls a lock of hair behind your ear and lingers his calloused palm on your skin, making you warmer than you were before.

“Mmm, I did,” you smile sleepily as he chuckles, making his brown eyes crinkle as the crow’s feet pull at the corners of his eyes. God, he’s always so handsome, especially in the morning, fresh from a long night’s rest with tousled bedhead curls that you want to run your fingers through.

“Good, that’s good,” he murmurs, a crooked smile curling over his lips as you seem to get lost in his beautiful face.

You almost nestle back into the crook of his neck, but when you look over you realize it’s a quarter past 10:00. Your eyes go wide and you jump up, realizing you’re probably messing up his entire day. “Shit, Joel. I didn’t know it was so late. I’m sorry, you should’ve woke me up earlier.”

You’re nearly frantic, but he places a palm softly on your face and turns you to look straight into his sleepy eyes. “‘S alright, angel. Jus’ calm down. I took the day off. Tommy’s got me covered, don’t you worry.”

“Oh.” You look at him with wide eyes while his thick fingers trail down your jawline like velvet.

“Wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you alone after last night. Needed to make sure you were alright. Figured I needed to take care of you.”

Oh. Take care of you? No one has ever… done that. Taken care of you before. And yet again, he leaves you completely speechless. “To… take care of me?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you stare up into gorgeous flecks of chocolate eyes.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he smiles, a hand slowly smoothing down your messy locks as he comforts you.

All you can muster up is a pathetic thank you as you nestle back into the scruff of his neck, hitching your leg around his hip as you hold tight to his broad chest. His fingers trail soothingly up and down your back, his nail beds scratching softly along your exposed skin as he soothes your growing panic.

After a few minutes of cuddling, he shifts his weight and drags his lips across the shell of your ear. “You wanna take a bath?” You nod your head and allow him to unravel you from his comforting hold. “Alright then, c’mon.”

He carries you into the bathroom, flipping the light on as he goes. He carefully sits you down on top of the ceramic countertop, dropping his thick fingers from your sides so he can start the water in the tub.

The faucet squeaks and turns, shooting out warm water. You lean against the mirror and close your eyes for just a second, letting the hum of the water calm your stirring tides, letting the sounds of Joel brushing past you soothe you as he sets out some clean towels from the polished cabinet.

You start to drift off again, trying to forget the horrors of last night. You start to slip into darkness, but Joel pulls you right back out as you start to fade to black. “You ready?” he asks, standing right in front of you with his thighs meeting your knees, one hand softly grazing along the jawline of your face.

“Yeah,” you mutter out pathetically, and then he lifts you off the counter and sets you on flat ground.

“C’mere, pretty girl. Let’s get you out of this.” He cautiously lifts the hem of his shirt and carefully drags it over your head. You place a hand steadily on his veiny forearm, slipping out of your panties until you’re completely bare and shivering like you’ve just walked out into a snowy blizzard.

He quickly throws his t-shirt off, shedding himself of his jeans and boxers until he has nothing left covering himself. The bubbles fizz at the top of the tub as he cuts off the water, slipping his fingers through yours so he can help you in the tub.

“In you go, angel. There ya go,” he murmurs, letting the warmth lap against your skin as he settles behind you, pressing your back into his broad chest while his thick arms envelop you in comfort.

You close your eyes, press your fingertips into his hot skin, and soak in the smell of his rich mahogany scent that always seems to calm you down. You shut out the violent events of last night, only thinking about how Joel swept you up in his arms and took care of you, making sure you were safe and heard, promising you that you were safe. And you were safe, you’re always safe in his strong arms, arms that claim you as his now, hopefully.

“Easy now, you’re alright,” he hums in the shell of your ear, caressing his lips against your jawline, slowly taking the soft washcloth over your arms as he bathes you in lavender soap. You lean into his broad body, groaning each time he glides the washcloth over your delicate skin, drowning in the attention and care he’s giving you.

He didn’t run, he stayed.

He picks you up gently and cradles you over his lap, your legs splayed over his thighs while your face nuzzles cozily into the crook of his neck, his calloused fingertips gently skating down the edge of your jawline. You relax every muscle in your body because you feel safe; Joel makes you feel safe.

He trails his hand down your forearm and pauses at the dip in your wrist, where the scar is visible. His fingertips feel like fire as they hover over the marked area that still feels fresh from years ago.

“You wanna talk ‘bout it?” he asks shakily, like you’ll break if he’s too loud or if he presses too hard on the scarred skin. You jump when he touches your wrist, and he quickly releases from that spot like he just burnt you more.

“I…” There you go choking again. When will you ever learn?

“You don’t have to talk ‘bout anything you’re not comfortable with, sweetheart. Jus’… I wanna know what happened to you because I want to understand you, want to make sure I don’t set off any triggers. I jus’ wanna know how to make you feel safe, babygirl.”

Babygirl. There’s that word again. The one that makes you think you’re finally his.

You flick your gaze up to him, staring into concerned brown eyes that draw you in like a moth to a flame. He always did know how to calm you down with just those soft, syrupy eyes. You look down and trace your index finger along the damp, wiry hairs along his chest, and then you take a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

“No, I… I want to tell you everything. So let me try.” You take a shaky breath and breathe out slowly, numbing your body enough to where the adrenaline isn’t filling your lungs, and then you lay it all out like you should’ve long ago. “I went through a lot in my past, Joel. With Jason. He was… he wasn’t always terrible. At least not in the beginning. He picked up drinking after he was in the service. He wasn’t always home, but when he took an early retirement from the military and came back he was a horrible alcoholic. I mean, drowning a whole six pack or more a day. And it just got worse and worse. And he… he…”

You have to take a breath and close your eyes for just a second, focusing on not falling apart as you feel hot tears well in your eyes at thinking back to the past you so desperately want to forget.

Joel puts a comforting hand on your lower back, giving you that nudge you need to continue your story. “He got really mean, especially when he was drunk. And I wanted to get out so bad, but he’d just suck me right back in. Promising he’d change, that he’d do better, but he never did. He never even tried. And then I tried to leave one night because he had me so terrified that I packed a bag and ran, but he got me before I was able to make it out the door. And he… he threatened me. Had me pressed up to the door with his hand wrapped around my throat. And he… he told me if I ever left he’d find me. So I felt trapped, and I couldn’t even talk about it to anyone because I was so fucking scared that he’d come after them, too.”

Joel’s eyes are wide, and his nostrils are flared, his hand drawing slow circles across your back in a soothing motion. You can see he’s fighting to keep his mouth shut, and he nods for you to continue.

“And then one night, Jason got really drunk. It was a rainy night, and I was cooking him dinner. There was something he didn’t like or something about how I was out too late the night before. I can’t exactly remember, but he was so fucking angry. His eyes were bloodshot red, and he was screaming for me to get him another beer. And I just remember thinking he was going to do something terrible to me. He was… abusive and manipulative… and he was so damn good at talking me down. I still… sometimes I still have nightmares.”

Joel’s fingers curl against your skin, and he presses you tighter against his chest, like he’s trying to soften the blow for you. He’s so good.

“But when I handed him the beer, he slapped my face hard and he broke the bottle on the coffee table, even smashed his dinner plate and sent the coffee table across the room. There was so much glass and noise and chaos… and I remember… I remember he pinned me down against the carpet and started lashing out at me, like I was the problem, like I was the reason he was so angry. And I tried to push him away, tried to scream for help, but he took the edge of the broken bottle and slashed my wrist open… he tried to kill me…”

The bathroom goes completely silent as Joel stares at you with a hint of terror flashing through his eyes. You feel the hot pricks of teardrops cascade down your cheeks, and then you’re a blubbering mess again. “I remember the sirens, the police, how I blacked out and woke up in the hospital. And I was alone, didn’t even remember what happened. All I knew was that I was in a strange place with IVs hooked to my arms, and I could barely see straight because I lost so much blood. And I… I was… I was so scared, Joel. They said… they said I was almost dead. If they would’ve gotten there two minutes later I wouldn’t be sitting here telling you this…”

Joel wraps his arms firmly around you, cupping the back of your head with a strong hand as he sends a wave of comfort around you, holding you while you cry your heart out and lay out everything just so he knows why you’re so messed up and broken.

“Oh, babygirl. I’m so, so sorry you had to go through that. That’s… my god, that’s traumatizing.” You wrap your arms around his thick back, burrowing your face into his warm chest as you soak up his warmth.

“And he… he always said how nobody else could love me, that I was worthless, that I was nothing. And that’s why… that’s why I am the way I am. Because of him.” Your voice cracks as more tears roll down your face.

Joel tips your chin up and rubs the tip of his thumb under your eyes, catching big tears as he brushes them away. “Oh, no no no, sweetheart. Don’t you believe him for one minute. You’re so beautiful and you’re strong and you’re worthy of love. Don’t think for one second on it, darlin’ girl. You’re worth it all.”

You’re worth it all. The words make your eyes glassy as you stare wondrously at the man that saved you from it all. “Thank you for… for making me feel safe,” you whisper against his chest.

“Always,” he murmurs as his thick fingers run through your hair calmly. “Thank you for trustin’ me with that information, angel,” he whispers against your ear. “You’re such a brave girl, you know that?” He gently presses his lips to the top of your head, and you sink deeper against his warm, welcoming chest. “The bravest girl I know.”

You’re such a brave girl. The words make you choke back a sob. “You really think so?”

“Mhm. I do, angel. I do.” His voice is so warm, almost like a brassy baritone sound that glides through your ears, like you could listen to it for forever.

You melt into his firm chest, eyes glistening up at him as you swallow your tongue and force more explanations out that he probably doesn’t need. “It’s sometimes hard for me to ask for what I need. After so long of that, I kinda lost my voice on things that matter to me,” you mumble shyly as if he’ll draw back from you, but he only pulls you closer.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I can be patient,” he coos into the shell of your ear, sending a wave of relief down your body.

“That’s why at the diner I couldn’t… I froze up when you asked me what I wanted. And I… God, I knew what I wanted. I just couldn’t say the words,” you stutter out, jumbling the words as they seem to blur all together.

“Hey, s’alright, angel. I should’ve… fuck. I should’ve been better. The way I acted after the diner. I jus’ can’t tell you how sorry I am, sweetheart. I know I hurt you by what I did. I jus’ wasn’t thinking, and I should’ve picked up on the signs the first night I met you. The way… you were so hesitant, and each time I even got close to your lips… Shit, I’m jus’ real sorry, darlin’. There’s not enough apologies that I could give to make it up to you.” He sighs and drags a large hand through his tousled curls, letting another sigh of frustration catch in his throat. “I’m sorry for leavin’ you on read for two weeks. I jus’… I was a wreck myself, but that’s a sorry excuse for bein’ an asshole, and right now I don’t even deserve redemption after the trouble I caused.”

You shake your head as if he shouldn’t be apologizing at all. “No, Joel. It’s okay. I should’ve just… I should’ve been better by now. About my feelings, about asking for what I need. I tried to bury my past, but all it did was eat me alive.”

He cups your chin and lifts your face to where your eyes meet his, and he looks so soft and sincere. You think you could just drown in those syrupy eyes filled with warmth. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t apologize. Not after what you’ve been through, my brave girl. Don’t even think about it for one second.”

My brave girl. The words send a splash of hope pulling through your veins at the word my, like maybe you are his.

“Joel, I…”

“Angel, s’alright. I’ll be whatever you need me to be, alright? Jus’ know that you’re so fuckin’ special, and I swear to god I’ll strangle myself before I ever hurt you again. And if someone even thinks of messin’ with you again, jus’ know I’ll kill ‘em with my bare hands. Because you are one of a kind, angel. Never met a girl like you before…”

“Joel…” You drag your fingertips across his greying scruff, your eyes glistening with longing and need, and then the word block comes up. You push and push, until you have nothing standing in your way anymore from telling him how you really feel. You take a deep breath and let the words fall off your tongue like you’re free falling, and somehow you know he’ll catch you. “I just… what I wanted to say back at the diner is that… I want you. God, I’ve wanted you for so long. And when you didn’t talk to me for almost two weeks… well… it was just… it was the worst thing ever, but I knew I messed up and probably deserved it and…”

He cuts you off, muttering a soft apology as he looks at you stunned for half a beat, his eyes raining with a look of longing and relief as he pulls you flush against his chest, letting the bubbles float around your entwined bodies. “Oh, sweetheart. No, you never messed up and you absolutely never deserved that. Listen to me very carefully. You have me. I’m all yours, sweet girl. I’ve been yours since that first night we met. And this is me askin’ for forgiveness, and I pray to god you’ll accept it because I don’t think I can see you walk out of this house unless it’s with me standing by your side.”

Your eyes go wide as you stare into gentle brown eyes, eyes that say they want you. “You… you still want me? Even after…”

He pushes back a piece of loose hair and grazes his knuckles softly down your jawline. “Angel, I’ve never stopped wanting you. And now, I want you even more.”

“You… want me…” you repeat in a hushed whisper, afraid that your ears are deceiving you. No one’s ever wanted you, so how could this perfect, gentle man want you?

“I want you every minute, every second, every breath of every day, sweetheart. I always want you. And if that asshole or any other fucker ever made you feel like you weren’t wanted then let me show you that that’s not true. Because I want you, angel. You’re worth everything, you beautiful, sweet girl. You’re worth it all.”

Your eyes blow wide as you feel a warm teardrop roll down your cheek. Joel brushes it away carefully with the pad of his thumb and lingers against your skin, making you feel warmth you’ve never felt in your life.

The bubbles splash around you with every shaky breath you take as your fingers graze his patchy beard, delicately tracing each strand of grey that threads through the dark hair, memorizing each fleck of onyx brown that glitters under the bathroom fluorescent lights. Your other hand pushes back a tousled curl off his tanned forehead, lingering your fingers in his messy hair like it’s your favorite shade of color that you want to lace your fingers through forever.

This man, this sentimental, extremely sweet hunk of a man is yours. He wants you, he really wants you. And for the first time in your life you know what it should feel like to be cared for, to be wanted, to be loved. At least it feels like love. The slow, sensual way he says your name, the longing gazes from his deep hazel eyes that make you blush like a silly girl with a school crush, the way he takes care of you, listens to you, the way he makes you feel safe like no one else has.

Safe. He makes you feel so safe, so seen, so loved. That’s it. Love. You love this man, and you really just want to fucking kiss him because he’s looking at you all doe-eyed and like you’re the only thing in the world that he wants to look at. And that’s it. You’re finished, smitten, done.

This is it.

It’s like the world stops spinning on its axis as you carefully lace your fingers through his curls, your other hand sliding along his chiseled jaw as you push yourself higher onto his lap and let your forehead connect with his.

He breathes in deep and hooks one arm around your lower back, his other hand skimming underneath your chin, letting the tip of his thumb graze along your lower lip. He lets it sit there, memorizing each crevice, every line that connects your smooth lips, and it’s like fire that tingles down your body, like no one has ever touched you before. Not like this, not like he’s mapping out every single trace of your soul, reaching in and stroking your heart like he’s putting together every broken piece of your shattered past.

“Do you know what my favorite thing about you is, angel?” He whispers with a deep, gravelly tone, shaking your very core as he continues to explore the lines of your lips.

“What?” Your voice is so scratchy that you almost don’t recognize it. You’re just very aware of how close his lips are, how intimate this moment is in the bathtub, on his lap while he tells you how much he wants you. And it’s so much, so very paralyzingly too intimate, but you don’t care. You don’t have the strength to deny him any longer when you want him just as badly as he wants you.

“How brave you are. You’re the bravest, strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And the best part is how you wear your heart on your sleeve even after everything you’ve been through. And I’m so lucky to have had the honor of meeting the prettiest angel in the room the first night I met you. And I’m so happy that I can call you mine, pretty little angel. You’re mine.”

You lean into Joel’s broad body, threading your fingers through his hair, gasping at the beautiful words that fall off his tongue so easily, mesmerized by the incredible man that keeps you breathless with every word he speaks.

You breathe in his rich mahogany scent, clinging to every word that wraps around your mind. You brush his nose and feel the warmth that heats off his skin, his lips, his very essence that seems to crash into your own body. And it’s like every single sound in the world stops as your lips brush his, like this is what you’ve waited for your entire life, to kiss him.

The slight tug of his large hand that cups the back of your neck is all the motivation you need. You let your hand fall against his slacked jaw, and then your lips are on his.

Warm. His lips are so warm, soft, perfect. Like they were molded just for you. You lean into his chest and hum against his plush lips as you circle your arms around the back of his neck. It’s like earth stops and gravity isn’t real, even the bubbles in the bath seem to come to a standstill as the kiss permeates throughout the room like sparkling firecrackers filling the warm air.

You part your lips, allowing him to slot his tongue into your mouth, and then he’s surrounding you in complete warmth as you melt as his honey-like tongue explores your mouth slowly. The kiss is nothing like you’ve experienced before. It’s warm, slow, inviting, and it’s written with Joel all over it.

Joel doesn’t rush, only takes his time as he delves into your mouth, swallowing his cinnamon taste as you drown in the very essence of him. Your bodies move in unison, fingers threading against one another’s hair, hearts beating impossibly fast against each other’s chests, a slow staccato rhythm that lights hearts on fire. You’ve never experienced anything this romantic in your life.

The kiss eventually ends as his lips disconnect with yours, and all you want to do is get wrapped up in your favorite lips again, but your breathing is ragged and you need some air as the stifling feelings start to fill your chest.

Joel laces his fingers through your hair and looks down at you with the most beautiful shade of deep brown eyes you’ve ever seen in your life, and you swear he looks completely smitten with you, almost like he’s in love. “You’re tellin’ me I had to wait that long to kiss you?” He smiles, resting his forehead down on yours.

“Sorry,” you apologize with red cheeks.

“Don’t gotta be sorry, angel. That was one hell of a kiss. The best damn kiss I’ve ever had in my entire life,” he purrs, lightly stroking slow circles against your jawline.

You gently laugh as you curl a finger down his broad chest. “Still, sorry I made you wait so long.”

He shakes his head and smiles warmly. “I’d wait forever if I had to, angel. You’re worth it.”

Your lips part and your eyes glisten as you stare at the man who has your entire heart. And god, you want to tell him how irrevocably in love you are with him, and that’s exactly what you do. You just let it float through the bathroom, completely aware of every single thing that could go wrong, but you can’t hide your feelings for him anymore. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, so you’ll have him. “Joel, I think… I think… I’m in love with you.”

His eyes soften into molten chocolate, and his smile is absolutely radiant as it curls over his plush lips. “And what would you say if I said I was in love with you, too?”

“What?” You freeze, thinking you heard that wrong. He loves you? Oh. Oh my…

“I love you, my sweet little angel. I’ve been in love with you since I saw you across the bar. I jus’ knew you were the one. They always say you know. Didn’t know what they meant until I saw you lookin’ over at me with those beautiful eyes of yours. I knew from that moment you’d be mine.”

Your mouth parts open as you suck in a breath, all your guarded walls and insecurities dropping on the spot as you play the words again and again in your head, until you can fully comprehend what he just said to you.

He’s in love with you. With you! You don’t know how, you don’t know why he did, but you just know you feel it as much as he does. And your skin is absolutely glowing as you grin mesmerizingly up at his brown starry eyes. “You really love me?”

“Oh, my little angel. Yes, I love you. You take the breath out of me.”

You map out every fleck of amber in his eyes, every crevice of pure syrupy colors that call your name like a magical siren, and then you’re falling, crashing into his lips until you can only breathe him. There’s no oxygen left, there’s only him and his cinnamon taste that drips off your tongue.

Your body molds to his, fingers lacing through messy curls, chest flush to his, climbing him like you can’t get close enough, can’t touch his tanned skin enough, can’t be satiated when his tongue is circling yours, marking his taste where you think you need him the most, so it can slip down and wrap around your heart, marking you as his own.

After a few minutes of heated tension and messy kisses, you untether from each other and just sit there in the warm, bubbly water, just breathing each other’s air like it’s the only oxygen you need. It’s just you and Joel, your own little safe space, a space he carved out just for you.

He turns you around and brings your back flush to his chest, wrapping a protective arm around your hips while his lips trace the top of your head until you can only close your eyes and breathe him in. Coffee, cinnamon, a fresh forest with chopped firewood. A warm fire, burning just for you.

After another half hour Joel helps you out of the tub, wrapping a soft cotton towel around your soaked body. He uses his large hands to help you dry off, taking slow strokes to your skin as the towel dries the water off your skin. He’s so gentle, careful, even delicate with every move he makes, every touch, every breath. He’s just… perfect.

“Here, you can wear some of my sweats. And I’ll get you a clean shirt.”

“Oh, okay,” you smile. He brushes his lips over your forehead softly before wrapping a towel around his waist and taking off to his closet, searching around for clothes that you get to wear.

You lean against the bathroom doorway and stare mesmerizingly at this beautiful man, watching him toss a long white t-shirt over his bare shoulder as his hands move hangers out of the way to find his sweats. You laugh at the way he tosses hangers to the side, muttering under his breath that he knows he put them right there. You tilt your head back against the bathroom door, assessing him while he works to find you just what you need.

Your eyes flit to the center of the room where a large mirror hangs and shades of soft cream fill the walls. You freeze when you see it, jaw dropping as you take in what sits on the edge of his mahogany dresser, right where the sunlight catches from the open window. There, right on the crevice of the dresser is a shiny hardcover Iron Flame book. “You bought Iron Flame?”

“Mhm,” he smiles, turning toward you with a fresh pair of grey sweats in his hand.

“But why? I thought…”

“I bought it because it was the closest thing I could get to havin’ you near me when all I wanted was you in my arms.”

You look at him wide-eyed, a small smile curling over your mouth as he comes and stands in front of you, trailing a hand slowly down your jawline. “Joel… you finished Fourth Wing?”

“Two days after the diner, that’s all I did was read. Finished it in one night because I could smell you on the pages. You smell like freshly printed books on a warm summer’s evening, and it had your scent all over those pages, angel.” His lips brush over yours, just long enough to breathe in his fresh cologne, and you feel as if you’re free falling in thin air, but Joel’s right at the bottom, ready to catch you before you collapse.

“Joel… I… I’m speechless. You read because it reminded you of me?” you whisper out.

“Mhm. That’s right, sweet girl. Jus’ for you.” His fingers lace with yours, lips caressing your knuckles as if he’s drinking you in.

“I… God, I love you.”

He lifts his eyes and smiles at you as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. “I love you, too, my beautiful angel…”

Then his lips are on yours. Soft, gentle, magnetic, electric. And there you go, floating off into a fluffy cloud as his taste and touch send you into a euphoric trance.

“Are you hungry?” he asks as lets his hands slide from your waist.

“Mhm.”

“How ‘bout I cook you come breakfast? But, I have a condition.”

You raise your eyebrows and playfully smirk at him. “And what’s that?” you giggle.

“Read to me.” It’s not a question but an ask. He wants you to read to him.

“You want me to read to you?” Your eyes flick up to his, and those gentle brown eyes are searing into your soul.

“Yes. Wanna hear that beautiful voice of yours. Read me Iron Flame.”

You let the words simmer for a few seconds as he slips on a pair of casual jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to his broad chest, making the sculpted muscles flare against his strong build. And his messy curls are still wet and slicked back and so beautiful. This man is more than perfect, he’s yours. Just as you are his.

“Okay,” you smile, feeling your cheeks blush red as he sends a crooked, adorable smile your way.

God, you’re never going to get enough of this man.

After breakfast, you and Joel end up in his favorite leather recliner. He laces his arms around you and brings you flush against his broad chest, circling his hands with yours as you hold up Iron Flame and quietly read it together. His warm breath blows down the nape of your neck, and you lean into his space, letting the scent of coffee and pine cones envelop the air. You think this is how it always should’ve been, what you’ve been looking for your entire life. It’s Joel. It’s always been Joel. You just had to pave your way through the bad guys to find your knight in shining armor. The one you were always meant to fall in love with.

“I love you, pretty girl,” he whispers in the shell of your ear, holding you tighter like he never wants to let you go.

“And I love you too, Joel Miller.”

“Think these two are endgame?” He’s referring to Violet and Xaden in the book, but you really think he’s talking about you and him.

“Still got three books to go, but I see it like the ending is right in front of me. They’re so endgame.”

“Think you’re right, my sweet angel. I think they’re infinite, like you and me.” His lips brush against your forehead, and his fingers lace through yours as you let the next page fall away from your grasp.

“Infinite, huh?” you whisper.

“Infinite,” he confirms.

You tilt your head up and let your lips capture his, saying your feelings as you tug him closer and run your fingers through his thick curls, giggling as he cradles you in his arms and slots his tongue against yours, letting the coffee serenade you with the taste of Joel on your lips.

You think this is how it should always be, you and him. Right here in his recliner, reading books together, entwined fingers, lips on each other’s as if you both can’t get enough of one another.

You were always meant to find him. And he turned out to be your knight in shining armor. And maybe your forever.

This was just the beginning. You still had a lifetime to go.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller #joel miller fic #protective joel #soft joel miller #no use of y/n #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction

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dragons-and-handcuffs · 1 month

Text

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Drunk and heartbroken Aegon crashes his ex's wedding

Modern AU

You never thought you'd be standing at the altar with another man. Not after the whirlwind that was Aegon Targaryen. He was everything your parents had warned you about—spoiled, reckless, a playboy with too much money and too little sense. But he was also the most thrilling, exhilarating thing to ever happen to you. Your relationship with Aegon was like a rollercoaster with no brakes: wild, dangerous, and utterly intoxicating. But it couldn't last, and you knew it. So, when your father introduced you to a proper suitor—a stable, successful man with a future—ending things with Aegon had seemed like the right decision. It was time to grow up, to move on.

Or so you thought.

Today was supposed to be the start of that new chapter. The day you married the man who was everything Aegon was not—reliable, respectable, safe. Your father approved, your family adored him, and you had convinced yourself that you were ready to settle down.

But as you stood at the altar, looking into the kind eyes of your soon-to-be husband, something inside you felt… off. Maybe it was just nerves, or maybe it was the weight of your past threatening to crush the perfect life you were trying to build.

The officiant cleared his throat, starting the ceremony. You tried to focus on the words, but your mind was a thousand miles away, tangled up in memories of Aegon.

And then, as if summoned by your very thoughts, the church doors burst open with a crash that echoed through the hall.

Every head turned in unison, and there he was: Aegon Targaryen, looking as disheveled as you'd ever seen him. His silver hair was a mess, his shirt half-buttoned, and a bottle of expensive alcohol dangled from his hand. He staggered into the aisle, blinking against the bright light and grinning like an idiot.

"Y/N!" he slurred, his voice carrying through the stunned silence. "Wait! Stop this madness!"

Your heart skipped a beat. "Aegon?"

Your groom’s expression hardened, his grip on your hands tightening protectively. The guests began to murmur, shocked whispers filling the church as Aegon made his way unsteadily down the aisle.

"Y/N, baby, what are you doing?" Aegon called out, swaying slightly as he walked. "This guy?" He pointed vaguely in the direction of your groom, his disdainful tone making it clear how little he thought of him. "He’s not the one for you! You’re making a huge mistake!"

You felt your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and something else—an involuntary rush of adrenaline, like you used to feel when you and Aegon were sneaking around, doing things you shouldn’t.

"Aegon, you need to leave," you said, trying to sound firm, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

But Aegon was far beyond reason. "Leave? Leave? Why would I leave when the love of my life is about to marry the wrong guy?" He stumbled closer, his words growing more impassioned—and more incoherent. "I’m the one, Y/N. I’m the guy who knows how to make you feel alive! Remember? Remember how we used to be? God, those nights…"

Your eyes widened in horror as Aegon began recounting the more intimate details of your past together.

"We were crazy, Y/N! We had passion! Fire!" Aegon waved his arms dramatically, nearly toppling over in the process. "No one—no one!—can make you scream like I can! Like… remember that time at my dad’s beach house? Or that hotel in Dorne? You were so loud, I thought we’d get kicked out!" He grinned, clearly proud of himself, and the guests gasped in shock.

Your face burned red, not just from embarrassment but from the sheer audacity of it all. Your father looked like he might explode, and your poor groom—he was just standing there, mouth agape, trying to process the trainwreck unfolding in front of him.

"Aegon, stop it!" you hissed, your voice desperate as you tried to salvage what little dignity you had left.

But Aegon wasn’t finished. "No, you need to know!" he insisted, pointing at the groom again. "This guy—this guy will never satisfy you like I can! He doesn’t know you like I do. He’ll never make you feel the way I can. Y/N, we were made for each other, baby! You and me, we’re wild!"

The guests were either mortified or barely suppressing laughter. Your mother looked like she might faint, and your groom’s face was a mixture of outrage and disbelief. The officiant had no idea what to do, glancing between you and Aegon like he was hoping someone would call security.

Finally, two of the groomsmen stepped forward to drag Aegon out. "Get your hands off me!" Aegon protested, but he was too drunk to fight back. They each grabbed an arm and started hauling him toward the door.

Even as they dragged him away, Aegon kept yelling, his voice echoing through the church. "I’ll always love you, Y/N! I’ll be waiting for you! And when this whole mistake blows up in your face, I’ll be right there, ready to pick up the pieces! Ready to make you scream again!"

As they shoved him out the door, he managed one final shout. "This guy will never satisfy you! Never!"

And then, with a heavy thud, the doors closed, sealing Aegon outside.

The silence that followed was deafening. All eyes were on you, waiting to see how you would react. Your father looked ready to murder someone, your mother was clutching her pearls, and your groom—well, he looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The chaos had passed, but your heart was still racing, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Aegon was right about one thing: there would never be another relationship like the one you had with him.

But you were committed to this new life, this new future. It was time to close that chapter for good.

You turned back to your groom, forcing a smile. "I’m so sorry about that."

He nodded, though the hurt was evident in his eyes. "Do you… do you still want to…?"

You looked at him, at the man who had offered you stability, security, and a life without the chaos that had defined your relationship with Aegon. He was a good man, and he deserved better than what had just happened. He deserved a wife who wasn’t secretly wondering if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

But you pushed those doubts aside. This was your choice, and you had made it.

"Yes," you said, squeezing his hands. "Let’s finish this."

But as you repeated your vows, the memory of Aegon’s last words lingered in the back of your mind.

"I’ll be waiting for you…"

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yoonieper · 3 months

Text

For the Birds— Prologue | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri)

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff

♡ Rated: D for Disappointment

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation! This chapter is not too bad, but please read with caution going forward!

♡ Chapter Warnings: Jk sad boy, Yuri being… :/, oral (f. receiving), masturbation (m)

♡ Word Count: 12.6k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: LOVE. by Kendrick Lamar (feat. Zacari)– see masterlist for full playlist!

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing future parts, dm me. If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have!

♡ Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this for a while, but I got sudden inspiration to finish the prologue~ This series should get pretty exciting, so stay tuned! ← Omg y’all the prologue has been in my drafts since 2020 :’) This series has gone through a lot of evolution that I might talk about in the future. This series is very different from where it started, but the prologue has always remained vastly the same, so it has a special place in my heart! Hope you enjoy the series my friends, this one is very emotional, so prepare for the rollercoaster ahead! I’m excited to show you what’s to come <3!

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » next chapter

“Secretary Yu, could you remind me of the schedule for the day?”Jungkook let his disgruntled sigh fill the room as he rubbed his temples, doing anything he could for a chance to soothe the subtle pounding in his head. Displeasure was painted all over his features, and his eyes were tightly closed while he listened to his assistant’s clicking heels stop in front of his desk.

The room was dark, but that hadn’t kept his retinas from burning any less as he looked at the woman in front of him— he didn’t know at this point if it was because of all the crying or the exhaustion from waking up so early. The day had only just begun, and he already wanted it to end; to just climb back in bed, sleep away his troubles, and forget everything that transpired over the last 24 hours. Hell, maybe there was still a chance he was asleep, and that this was all just a bad nightmare his brain had conjured up in nervousness.

“Director Jeon? I didn’t expect you to be in so early.” Secretary Yu Min-ju tried to smile but the furrowing of her eyebrows made it obvious she was a little confused. This hadn’t been part of the plan they discussed. Jungkook didn’t let the moment linger, instead, gave her a firm look of exasperation that made her hastily pull out her tablet to find his schedule.

Her usual cheerfulness was not what he needed today.

Min-ju couldn't stop the smile appearing on her face when she saw its rare emptiness. “Your hard work these past few days has paid off. Today is pretty light. A meeting with the financial team at 12, and then another meeting at 1pm with Mr. Cho. You should be able to go home after that.” The secretary warmly smiled.

Jungkook’s eyes drifted down to the picture sitting on his desk as she spoke. It was of him and his wife on their honeymoon last year to The Maldives. They had been walking on the beach and his mother had texted and begged for a picture of the new couple; Jungkook could do nothing but oblige. Yuri had clung onto his shoulders when he held up his phone, and upon counting down to one, gave him a surprise kiss on the cheek leading to Jungkook’s eager, unnaturally wide smile being captured forever and memorialized on his desk. He couldn’t help but frown.

He wanted to be excited, craved for it, yearned for it, but home was the last place he wanted to be right now. All that hard work for nothing. For once he wished he had more to do, anything to keep his mind busy.

“Didn’t I have deadlines for a few upcoming reports?” He suddenly questioned.

Min-ju looked farther down her list and she nodded. “There are a few documents that need reviewing and signatures, but a majority of them aren’t due till next week. But you don’t need to—“

“I’ll get them done today.” Jungkook’s tone was astoundingly emotionless, completely void of the delightful emotion he had spoken with in the days leading up to today. Min-ju was at a loss for words. She knew how hard he worked to free up his day for the special occasion. What's with the sudden change of plans? What happened?

It was Jungkook himself who had requested for her to try and free his schedule so he would be in the office for as little time as possible. There was no joy or giddiness behind his eyes like she had expected. Min-ju had pictured her boss walking in with a strange cheerfulness in his mood, rainbows and sparkles practically dancing around him as he skipped through the halls and greeted her good morning. But his tone lacked spirit altogether. Jungkook was like a husk compared to the person she said goodbye to the evening prior.

“I— uh alright, I’ll make sure to send them to you later sir.” Min-ju bowed, before she scrambled away.

Jungkook listened intently to the way her heels tentatively clicked while she walked out, it was at a certain speed that told him she was rushing to get out of there. As soon as the door closed behind her, he let out a loud sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

What a fucking disappointment this whole day turned out to be.

Jungkook had planned today to be one of the most preeminent days for him and his wife as a couple and those plans were all squashed within a second last night. It had been playing over and over in his head since he woke up this morning.

He tangled his hands in his hair, his grip growing tighter and tighter on his short locks as the reality of the situation hit him for the billionth time. It just wouldn’t stop, replaying in a loop hoping something might change. That he’d wake up from this nightmare, or maybe even realize something that in the heat of the moment had gone entirely unnoticed— anything to explain what happened. Last night still didn’t feel real.

The cancellation had been entirely unexpected.

•────•──────────•────•

Last night Jungkook had been in high spirits all day. A radiance was cast on his features by the pure, exorbitant elation flowing through his body. It was like the most beautiful display of fireworks were going off all at once, tickling his insides, and making the smile on his face grow so wide it hurt his cheeks but he couldn’t find it in him to stop. After all, tomorrow was going to be the turning point for their relationship. Something was about to happen, he was sure of it.

Jungkook was lying on their shared bed, having just recently come out from the shower. His hair was still slightly damp, and a giddy smile was plastered on his face as he scrolled through his phone. He was eagerly reviewing their itinerary for their plans tomorrow.

D-day. The day that Jungkook and his wife were meant to celebrate their one and a half year anniversary. It might be a weird occasion to commemorate, but after being apart for too many holidays and milestones for various reasons, Jungkook went out of his way and made it a point to plan something to make up for all the lost time.

He let his attention turn from his phone and settled on his wife who was meticulously going through her nightly routine at her vanity. His smile softened as he silently watched her dab night cream across her cheeks.

How was this his life?

Sometimes it was a little hard to believe Yuri was actually his wife, it was almost intimidating at how beautiful she was. Her eyes were round yet sharp in their gaze as she focused on the mirror. Her skin was usually so soft but it shined even more so at that moment from all the various oils and moisturizers she made sure to use every night. Her long, dark hair flowed nicely down her back but was pushed out of her face by a cute, fuzzy, gray headband. And even in pajamas, she managed to carry this level of elegance that pulled him in so easily.

Jungkook bit his lip to contain the smile that was threatening to envelop him entirely.

The outfit was especially a big deal. It was different from the shorts and tank tops she’d normally wear. It had been his idea to start the celebration with matching pajamas, a slight preview to the day he had planned for the both of them. Jungkook’s heart had hammered in his chest when Yuri relented and agreed to wear the set he had given to her before she went to shower. It matched his own exactly. It was nothing too special, but a nice way to bring them together before the big day. A simple, gray pajama-button-down-classic; the material was so soft and he knew Yuri would look just as amazing as it felt.

She always did.

His excitement was almost overflowing, Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from getting up so he was right behind her. He wrapped his arms around her small frame, and gently placed a quick peck on her neck.

“I’m so excited for tomorrow~” He hummed lightly into her skin.

Yuri didn’t say anything, her attention trained on her reflection.

“What about you? Are you looking forward to spending the day together and doing all the fun stuff I have planned?” He sang. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew it sounded cringey, but for once he didn’t care. He just wanted to hear it, that she was excited to be with him.

Yuri’s gaze eventually flickered over to him before she turned around to face him.

“Jungkook, I have to tell you something…“ She sighed. He tried to ignore his uneasy feeling about her tone.

“Oh, you did?” Jungkook attempted to fight back his disappointment. That wasn’t what he hoped she’d say.

“Yeah, I did,” she muttered. He hated the look on his face as he peered into the mirror. A slight frown had dimmed down his smile, and he wanted to do anything to wipe it away. There was no time for frowning, he didn’t want to ruin tomorrow before it even started. He shouldn’t overthink it.

“I had something I needed to mention too.” He went back over to the bed. “I wasn’t able to get out of my meetings tomorrow so I’ll have to go in for a few hours, but I promise I’ll come straight back here.” He had really tried, but there was no way to reschedule them any further into the week. At least that was the only thing on his agenda tomorrow, however, he had wanted to take the day off completely and spend it with his wife.

Jungkook saw Yuri’s face drop.

“Don't worry, I’ll be here all morning! I worked hard to clear my schedule as much as I could, it’ll just be two meetings and then I’m back.” He tried to smile. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind the brief interruption too much.

“Actually—“ Yuri dragged it out as she looked back into the mirror to make sure she rubbed in the cream well, “I have plans tomorrow.” She put it frankly.

Jungkook blinked a couple of times before a look of confusion settled on his features. “Plans?” His voice had grown small. It didn’t have a reason to yet, but maybe all along he knew where this was going the minute she brought it up.

“I have a friend from when I went to school in the US coming to visit.” She mumbled. Jungkook couldn’t hide the disappointment from showing.

“Oh? Um…”

“We’re planning to spend some time together, so…”

“When will you guys be done?” He questioned, still a little shocked that she was just telling him about this now, the day before their plans. “Hopefully we can work around it. Maybe you guys could meet up while I’m gone so it doesn’t mess up—“

“Jungkook, this is going to be an all-day thing.” He could see the way Yuri watched his expression from the mirror as the gears started turning in his head, now realizing what that meant. The silence that settled in the room was painful.

“But… but we had plans.”

“I know we did, but—“

“But?! Yuri I told you weeks ago!” Jungkook retorted. He was angry now. He didn’t want to be angry.

“Weeks Yuri, weeks!” He continued, unable to process this was happening. There was no way she could have simply “forgotten” about the day they were supposed to spend together. He’d literally been talking about it since they both agreed to do this a few weeks ago.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He accused, confused how news like this would just go unsaid.

“She just called me two days ago,” Yuri argued, as if that would make this any better.

“Two days ago— and you didn’t say anything until now?” He was baffled. There was no excuse why she couldn’t have brought this up sooner.

“Well— look how you’re reacting.” She scoffed and crossed her arms.

That just set him off even more.

“How I’m reacting, Yuri?! We talked about this for weeks; it’s the only thing I’ve been talking about for the past few days. I’m sorry that I was excited to spend the day with my wife.” Jungkook exploded at her. He was furious, and he didn’t like it. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to go.

Yuri didn’t say anything but instead rolled her eyes.

“And you can’t just cancel?!” He finally asked, getting up and pacing around their shared room.

“Jungkook, she's my friend! I haven’t seen her in a while and—“

“But what about me?!” He snapped. The words seemed to hang in the air, a painful silence following it. Jungkook noticed the look on her face, and he sighed as he sat down at the edge of the bed so he was facing her. He ran his hands through his hair and took a couple deep breaths to get himself to calm down.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that… it’s just… Yuri, we've been married for a year and a half and I feel like I hardly know you. I know this is technically only meant to be business, but I thought we said we’d try and make this work.” He cried as he grabbed a hold of her hands. He looked her directly in the eyes, wanting her to know that he meant every word.

Was he really asking for too much?

“We’ve hardly gotten time together since our honeymoon. Our schedules are full, and I know that’s not our fault, but I just wanted some time alone with you even if it was only for a day.” He pleaded; the desperation was so evident in his voice. He felt pathetic.

“We can do that any day. My friend will only be here for the next two weeks.” Yuri acknowledged before she turned back to her vanity.

“And why can’t you just hang out another day?” He asked, defeat overtaking him and his efforts to convince her. There was no point really. It seemed she had already made up her mind.

“I said she’s leaving in two weeks. We only have a limited time to hang out before she’s catching a plane back to California. Besides, we can just do something after she leaves. We will have all the time in the world when she’s gone in two weeks.” Her words were punches straight to the heart. She always says that when she needs to cancel plans— that next week never comes.

Her excuse was ridiculous, but this wasn’t the first time it had happened. He’s used to it now and knows there isn’t really any point in trying to negotiate.

“Yuri, I have a business trip that week.”

“Well what about the—“ she was cut off.

“You have a shoot in Hawaii that week.” Jungkook just sighed and got back up to sit on his side of the bed. “We can just forget about it all together in that case.” He fumed as he flipped over, now too upset to even face her right now.

Part of him was hoping she’d just say “Never mind, I’ll just reschedule,” jump in the bed and cuddle with him because she realized just how much this meant to him, to herself, and to them both as a couple. Everything would be fine and–

But no… Yuri just sat there, seemingly unaffected by the cancellation of their plans.

He began to think it was a little sad at how upset he was. Yuri didn’t care; maybe he truly had made this a bigger deal than it needed to be. She was right in some sense— they live together and can plan something any day of the year.

But it still hurt that just for this one day, Yuri didn’t want to spend time with him.

•────•──────────•────•

It did not get any better the next day. He woke up in a bad mood. She wasn’t even there in the morning. Everything just made him upset: Yuri’s cold, empty side of the bed, he forgot to turn off his alarm so he missed his opportunity to sleep in, and he nearly slipped in the shower as he was ranting to himself about how dumb this was. Their annoying, squeaky bedroom door that Jungkook’s been meaning to call someone about. Even the milk for his cereal pissed him off because he asked Yuri last night to pick up more while she was out but of course, she forgot, and he forgot to tell their cook about it thinking she’d get it, so he only had a little left for his breakfast this morning.

The last place he wanted to be was at their apartment so he left for work as soon as he was ready.

Jungkook took out his phone knowing he had some time to kill and he needed someone to rant to or else he was going to go crazy. A few minutes later, like the trusty friend he was, Jimin was bursting through the door like he was the Kool Aid man, ready to listen to all of Jungkook’s problems.

“Ok, who’s ass do I need to kick?” Jimin came in, hands up, ready to fight– which might have been Jungkook’s fault with the ambiguous text he sent to his hyung. Saying “the world’s ending, need help now!” might have been a little too drastic, but it felt appropriate at the moment.

“Mine...” Jungkook groaned, his head was on the desk but he could hear Jimin’s footsteps hurrying over, before taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk. This was routine at this point.

The two of them had been friends for a number of years now. Jimin was two years older than Jungkook and had mainly been friends with his brother at first. But when Junghyeon left, apparently he decided he needed to leave his big brother duties to someone, and he thought who else would be a better fit to watch over him than Park Jimin? Those were Junghyeon’s words when Jungkook first mentioned that he was getting close to his old friend. Jimin occasionally checked up on him when he was still in high school, and their bond grew really strong soon after Jungkook had started college. Jimin became his guide as he navigated adult life and a very real friendship was born from his brother’s efforts.

When Jimin graduated, it only felt natural for Jungkook to extend an invitation to work at his family’s company, knowing how good of an addition he would be to the team. As of about three and a half years ago, they’ve also been work buddies.

“So,” Jimin stretched it out. “What is it this time?” He asked when Jungkook still hadn’t said anything.

Silence followed.

“Is this about Yuri?” Jimin finally questioned, that being the most obvious, considering Jungkook shouldn’t even be in right now.

The younger man nodded.

Jimin hummed as he thought about it for a second. “Ok, is this another rant about your sex life because I have some—“

“No, no, no, well… maybe, yes? I don’t know hyung, I'm just…” All Jungkook could do was sigh, his frustration getting to a boiling point again.

“I’m guessing with the way you’re acting, things didn’t go as planned…?” Jimin asked wearily, knowing precisely what Jungkook had in store for today. He’d helped Jungkook plan it out. The first thing that was supposed to be on the itinerary was waking Yuri up with a good time. Jimin was the one to suggest it, but the fact he was in a bad mood was enough to let him know things hadn’t gone the way that they’d discussed.

“The whole plan didn’t happen,” Jungkook lamented as he leaned back in his office chair. He could feel Jimin’s confusion without even having to look at him. “She canceled our whole day because of a friend visiting from the US.” He scowled and saying it out loud made it sound even more unreal.

Jimin blinked a couple of times, obviously just as confused as he was. “A friend?”

“It’s something she knew about two days ago before even bringing it up last night. It wasn’t even a full day before our plans!” At least he could’ve gotten a heads-up. He wasn’t sure what that would have done, but at least he could have had more time to cope with the disappointment.

“What?” Jimin questioned in disbelief.

“And maybe, maybe I’d get it if today was the only day they could hang out, but she said they’re going to be here for the next two weeks.” Jungkook was getting angry all over again.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jimin repeated, honestly just baffled.

“And! And when I asked her why they can’t just hang out the next day, she said it’s because they’re only here for a limited time and that we can just hang out whenever!” It didn’t make any sense that she would say that when Jungkook had to spend days working into the early hours of the morning trying to clear his schedule enough so that they could have some time together.

“What the fuck…” Jimin looked just as confused as he felt.

“I know, it’s ridiculous…” He trailed off with a laugh, but the pain from the sudden cancellation made it hard to even pretend this was anywhere near comical.

“Jungkook, I think that’s a lot more than ridiculous…” Jimin tried to reassure, his tone quickly turning sympathetic.

“I know we’re arranged, but I just… I thought being married would be more than this, you know?” He leaned back in his chair. Jungkook simply had dreams for his future and this wasn’t anything he pictured it would look like.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. You both agreed to try and she has never given you a reason why she’s practically avoiding you.” Jimin said, recounting the fact this wasn’t even the first time something like this has happened.

“I’m wondering if it’s me. Maybe I’m not doing enough or maybe I’m doing it all wrong? Right? It had to be something I did.” Jungkook tried to rack his brain, thinking of anything he did that might have made Yuri so upset at him.

“I don’t think it’s your fault. You’re trying your best. It doesn’t make sense to me why she did this. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone, but I don’t know… maybe she wants her space.” Jimin suggested, it being the only explanation he could come up with to make sense of her behavior.

The words sat in the air for a second, a painful second, like the wrong note reverberating at the end of a musical piece. Jimin didn’t notice the shift fast enough before Jungkook suddenly sat up to look at him, and his brows were furrowed like what he said was crazy.

“Space? We have space all the time, this was the one day I wanted us to be a couple— or at least try and be a couple.” Jungkook chided and Jimin immediately knew he didn’t phrase that in the best way.

“I meant it more so for yourself. I’ve seen and been in enough relationships, situationships, you name it, to know when to back away. Things are obviously going to be even more complicated because you’re in an arranged marriage. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but maybe taking a step back so you don’t get hurt is something to think about.” Jimin laid it out plainly, but Jungkook maintained his hard expression. If anything, he seemed even more displeased.

“I have to make this work. I’m obviously not doing what she wants!” Jungkook seethed.

“We have no idea what’s going on. I’m just trying to stop you from getting hurt.” Jimin's gaze filled with sympathy, but Jungkook just seemed to grow more angered as he rolled his eyes at him.

“Like you would understand— everyone wants to be around you.” Jungkook scoffed, turning away.

Jimin sat there for a second, dumbfounded, wondering where that came from.

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone likes you! Everyone practically flocks to be around you. You have no trouble in relationships– yet I can’t even make the one woman I’m married to at least be comfortable by my side.” Jungkook cried out, and it was here that any anger that was threatening to boil over cooled the minute Jimin saw the wetness in his eyes.

Jimin had only been a bystander for the last few years in Jungkook’s life, but he could hardly comprehend this was the same man he’d been friends with for years now.

Jungkook had gone from the guy who shied away from relationships, to suddenly being the only married man in his friend group.

He could never forget the day that Jungkook came to his apartment late one night, it felt like forever ago now. Those were different times; they weren’t the same people anymore. His eyes had been wide and petrified, like he’d just seen a ghost. It practically took the whole night to get it out of him that apparently his parents had made some kind of deal and were basically forcing him to get married to solidify it.

Jimin could hardly keep up after he’d finally managed to get him to speak, and a lot of it went over his head. To be honest he didn’t believe it even after Jungkook explained it over and over again. It didn’t sound real. Whose parents would make their twenty-two year old son get married without at least talking to him first? It didn’t make sense.

It also didn’t make any sense considering Jimin had been the listening ear to how well their three dates– yes only three dates– went before the engagement.

“They were ok.” Jungkook would sigh, before showing a picture of her and talking about how much he struggled to say anything because of how nervous she made him.

In the months leading up to the marriage, Jungkook had eventually heard the details of the deal, and that’s when the mood started to shift. Jungkook’s protests grew quieter to the point the wedding day managed to come and go without any intervention. Jimin still didn’t believe it, even as he saw Jungkook stand at the end of the aisle, even as he watched them get pronounced husband and wife, even as he witnessed the contract getting stamped, and even as he helped Jungkook pack to move to their new shared apartment after they came back from their honeymoon.

It didn’t feel real, but Jimin tried to remain as optimistic as Jungkook appeared when he came back.

“We said we’d try.” Jungkook told him with a toothy grin. The honeymoon had been good apparently.

But that optimism was short-lived and Jimin was forced to sit back and watch as something in his friend shifted. Things weren’t right in the relationship, that much he was sure of. Jungkook had finally said something towards the beginning of the year. It was small things at first, things Jungkook made sound like the typical lovers’ quarrel. But as time passed, it grew more vague, unusual, and desolate. It was never detailed enough for him to get the full picture, but he could see the way Jungkook was practically deteriorating right in front of him.

He had no idea what was going on, but it was moments like this that made his blood boil. Jungkook was normally a closed-off person. He didn’t share his problems with others easily. For him to come to Jimin to talk about his issues in his marriage made him wonder how bad the situation truly was. The alarm bells wouldn’t stop going off in his head.

“Jungkook, what’s going on?” Jimin sat up and rubbed his friend’s back. Jungkook’s office was dark but when he lifted his head, Jimin could see that the tears had finally started running down his cheeks.

“Hyung, it’s me right?! I don’t understand why she… w-why she…” He stammered. The words caused the emotions he’d bottled up to spill over, and the tears became uncontrollable.

“I must be doing everything wrong, right? Am I really that bad? I just… I just wanted to spend some time together. Am I really that bad of a husband?! I try so fucking hard, I swear I do, I just— Hyung I don’t know what else to do…” Jungkook ranted, sounding so dejected.

Jimin only felt the fire burn harder while his brain worked to try and understand Yuri. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, that there had to be some rational explanation that he just wasn’t seeing that would explain why every chance Jungkook made plans for them to be together, something had to get in the way. The only thing he could see was how much this affected Jungkook, and she was starting to piss him off.

He got up and went behind Jungkook's desk so he could give him a hug, the younger man only sobbing even harder in his arms. Jimin didn’t say anything, instead ran slow, comforting circles over his back.

Jimin couldn’t help but think that he needed to talk with Yuri. They weren’t close but hopefully they’ve met on enough occasions that he could have a comfortable conversation with her to at least get her side of the story. It would be the opportunity to try and get the chance to understand what was going on. Maybe then he could actually help Jungkook try and win her over.

The moment was interrupted by the blaring ring of the phone that sat on Jungkook’s desk, letting them know that Secretary Yu was calling. Jungkook quickly tried to wipe his eyes, doing his best to pull himself together, but Jimin stopped him in his tracks, already picking up the phone before he could object.

“Hi Secretary Yu~” Jimin chirped, putting on that notorious charm that so easily put people at ease. “Yeah it’s Jimin, I’m taking over the phone for this one….. uh huh, right, wait but I thought— ohhhh, really…?… I see….. Yeah, I’ll let him know, he’s right next to me…. Nice talking with you…. bye.” Jimin frowned as soon as he put the phone down.

“She said we have a meeting we need to go to. Apparently, finance has an emergency that we have to oversee.” His eyes remained trained on Jungkook as he grabbed some tissues, seemingly trying his best to switch back to boss mode.

“Sorry, I probably look very pathetic right now,” Jungkook sadly chuckled as he wiped his eyes, but Jimin wasn’t having it.

“Stop calling yourself pathetic. It’s alright. Cry as much as you need to,” Jimin attempted to reassure him when he noticed Jungkook’s lip still quivering. He looked like he was on the verge of another breakdown. “Don’t push yourself, we still have a few minutes before the meeting starts.” He tried to get Jungkook to slow down but he was already up and out of his chair.

“I’m fine… I just really needed that. This will be good, don't worry.” Part of Jungkook wondered if he was trying to convince Jimin or himself.

He walked over to a mirror. “Are my eyes red?” Jungkook questioned, worried that it looked like he had been crying his eyes out.

Jimin walked over and shook his head. “Just a little, but no one will notice unless they knew what you were doing.”

He nodded, affirmed. “Ok, let’s do this.”

With that, Jungkook pushed through the door, passing Secretary Yu’s desk as she got up to join him, along with various higher up employees who had gotten the message about the meeting.

Secretary Yu pulled out her tablet and moved a little closer. “Director Jeon, I just wanted to quickly give you a better brief of the situation before the meeting starts.”

“Go ahead…” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, but he hoped she didn’t notice.

“Production had encountered an unexpected issue. Good news is that it has been solved already so there’s no need to worry about it. The bad news is that we can’t use any of the inventory they made prior to the fix.” Secretary Yu tried to speak calmly but grimaced when she noticed the change in her boss’s demeanor.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, and he stopped dead in his tracks. All the executives that were walking behind them came to a sudden halt along with him, making everyone nearly bump into each other.

“Wait, what?! But production had been running for–” Jungkook didn’t need to finish that, already knowing the answer. It was far too long and their launch date was about a month away.

This was bad.

“What was the issue?”

“I’m not sure yet—“ The ‘what’ didn’t really matter right now, all that meant was this launch was screwed.

Launches were some of the most important moments of the year. The fact it had been slated for the last quarter of the year, the most important quarter for a company like theirs in turning up profit, they had been counting on it even more than normal. This put everything in jeopardy, particularly anything they had planned for next year. This line had already been delayed to the utmost limit because of numerous other complications so delaying it was almost entirely off the table.

“Just great huh. Really fucking great. This day can’t get any worse can it—“ And he should have learned that words like that challenge the universe to see what other shit it could throw at you.

They finally picked up their hurried pace to the meeting room, but right as Jungkook rounded the corner he collided with something hard and suddenly he was cold and soaking wet. Jungkook just stared down, his suit covered in what he could immediately smell was coffee. A sliver of luck for him was that it was iced, but that didn’t stop him from being covered in coffee— he could only imagine the stains on the beige fabric.

Part of him wanted to scream but as his eyes trailed up to see a woman frantically picking up the cup and her scared, apologetic eyes when she realized it was all over him, he found himself unable to speak. Jungkook immediately knew he had never seen you before; he would have remembered you.

Your red blouse was tucked into your short pencil skirt, which perfectly fitted to your form. Your legs were long as you stood up, accentuated even more by your tall, black stilettos, and Jungkook couldn’t stop the way his eyes ran over the exposed skin. What seemed to hold his attention the most was your vibrant, red lipstick. For a second he was left a little dumbstruck and forgot about the coffee that was everywhere. You were beautiful, ridiculously beautiful, it was almost crazy. For a second he wondered why you were here and not walking down some runway or the face of every brand imaginable.

He would have noted this a lot more if he didn’t have coffee soaking into his clothes. Right now he just saw you as another problem, making his day that much worse. It was one of his favorite suits too, he wore it to make himself feel a little better about today, but you…

Things just can’t get any worse.

•────•──────────•────•

This can’t be real.

It was your first day and all your worst fears seemed to be manifesting. You slept through your alarm, you missed your bus, and your much needed caffeine was all over this handsome stranger— though you really couldn’t say you saw that one coming. The embarrassment you felt creeping onto your cheeks in front of all the people staring at you in the hallway was enough to melt you into a puddle. Worst of all, your supervisor who was walking right next to you saw everything.

It couldn’t get much worse.

“I’ll clean this up. I’m so sorry! I should have paid more attention to where I was going!” You panicked as you scrambled to find something to help fix this. You looked to your supervisor, but he seemed even more distressed than you for some reason.

You finally turned back to the stranger and his gaze met your own for a brief moment. His eyes were wide and looked almost like a kicked puppy at how much sadness filled them for a split second. It really was only a second before you noticed the more expected glare of annoyance.

“Just,” He sighed. “Clean this up, okay? Director Son, please tell the team I’ll be a bit late. Hyung, can you…?” Jimin quickly nodded before speeding away.

Jungkook just walked past them, not bothering to acknowledge anyone any further. In truth, he was a second away from bursting into tears again, but they didn’t need to know that. Instead, he just hurried off to the bathroom and waited for Jimin to bring the spare suit he kept for emergencies such as these.

It seemed things could get worse.

Your eyes were wide as you watched him swiftly walk past you, not even bothering to look at you. You knew he had every right to be upset, but he was a bit rude. It was clearly an accident and he didn’t even give you time to apologize properly.

“Yah, what’s up with that guy?” You mumbled. His annoyance had been a disease and it was quickly spreading.

“That guy?! Y/n do you know what you just did?!” Your new boss was clearly exasperated and that just made you a little confused. It was then you noticed everyone who was still in the hallway had their eyes on you, their hands were over their mouths, and they all had this look of horror on their faces like you had just committed the worst crime imaginable.

“Who was that…?” You finally questioned, your heart already beating out of your chest.

“I swear you’re going to get us both fired and you only just got here. I swear…” Director Son rubbed his temples and cursed silently to himself, a look of worry speedily etched its way into his features.

“Director Son, what did I just do?” You asked, growing even more anxious. He finally turned to face you.

“Y/n, that was Jeon Jungkook.”

You still looked confused and this made him laugh— a worried, nervous laugh that made you know you had royally fucked up.

“You just spilled coffee all over the CEO’s son.” He put it plainly. It was only then that the pieces of the puzzle came together and started to make sense.

What….have…you……done?

“That’s my boss, your boss, everyone who works on this floor’s boss.” The words only seemed to set the reality into both of you.

“We’re going to have to pray. Get on our hands and knees, beg for forgiveness, and hope he doesn’t fire us or tell his father.” Suddenly, Director Son sprinted to the office area and returned with a bunch of napkins.

“We have to see him in the meeting too. What am I going to do?” Director Son said with apprehension, throwing his hands up in the air. He already had so much bad news to deliver and now his newest employee had spilled coffee all over his boss.

He was fired for sure.

You hurriedly went to help him start cleaning up the coffee, but you were barely paying attention. You were just dazed because, at this point, you were convinced you were about to get fired on your first day.

Suddenly, someone else was coming up beside you. “What a great entrance, huh?” A deep voice chuckled as he put more napkins on the ground.

“It’s only my first day and I’m already ruining everything.” You huffed, getting the feeling you wouldn’t be here much longer.

“You have to admit it was pretty funny~”

You stopped. “No, it wasn’t. Do you know how humiliating that was?!” You finally turned to see yet another handsome stranger, but this time this guy had a warm, welcoming, boxy smile on his face.

“I do, but it made my day better. Nice to meet you, I’m Kim Taehyung!” He stretched out his hand.

You smiled weakly, feeling better that someone could laugh about this. “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you Taehyung.” You said as you quickly shook his hand.

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin burst through the doors, emergency suit already in hand.

“You alright?” Jimin questioned as he set the suit on the counter.

Jungkook turned toward him, clearly teary-eyed. He shook his head. ��I just want to go home.” He tried to laugh as he started unbuttoning his shirt. He would have been better off not coming in today.

“Maybe you should. Today just doesn’t seem to be your day, huh?” Jimin tried to joke and smiled when he saw Jungkook chuckle.

“I have meetings later though. I have to stay till then.” He just sighed. Jungkook had already felt guilty about leaving and hardly being at work today because of his plans with Yuri, but going home right now seemed selfish considering the dire situation. He didn’t want people to think he was running away and leaving them to deal with this mess alone. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him back home anyway. There was no need to rush anymore.

Jungkook spent most of his time at the office more than at home. He wanted to show that he was working hard, it was something he knew was essential to gaining everyone’s trust. Since he was still pretty young, people often doubted his leadership, but he earned his spot in the company just like everyone else did. Jungkook had been working here since he was nineteen, interned even longer, and started off at the bottom like everyone else. He didn’t want to be the spoiled, rich kid inheriting the company simply because his father is the CEO. He wanted to make sure that by the time he became CEO he would have built up the same respect that the rest of the employees held for his dad.

As a result, leaving earlier or taking days off was something he tried to steer clear of as much as possible, but today… things just weren’t working out. He feared that being here any longer might make him explode.

Once they figure out this whole situation, he’ll immediately go home after his last two meetings are over. Right, that was the smart thing to do. He couldn’t risk having a breakdown in front of everyone.

“Hyung…” Jungkook said suddenly after he managed to get his pants up. Jimin hummed. “Thanks for being here with me.” His voice wavered slightly.

“Of course, I’ll always be here when you need me.” Jimin said softly. Jungkook was extra sensitive today. He usually was able to reserve the waterworks for sad movies or when he was alone in the apartment, but today he couldn’t seem to keep his emotions at bay.

When they both came out of the bathroom, Jungkook and Jimin hurried to the meeting room ready to assess the current crisis at hand. Everyone was already in their seats when they walked in, and upon seeing Jungkook, they scrambled out their chairs to stand up and bow.

Jungkook took a seat at the head of the table and Jimin in the seat to his left. Director Son was already standing at the pedestal in the corner of the room with a gloomy expression practically carved into his features. This was probably even worse than what he was told, judging by the solemn tone of the room.

He was antsy to hear just how bad it was, and was about to tell Director Son to continue, when he spotted you at the end of the table.

“Director Son,” Jungkook said, curiosity peaking. He knew pretty much everyone who worked on this floor, but you were definitely not familiar.

“Who’s she?” He pointed directly at you, making your attention turn toward him.

Director Son scrambled from behind the pedestal, realizing he had forgotten to introduce you because of the incident earlier.

“My apologies, sir.” Director Son addressed Jungkook before turning towards you and motioning for you to stand. You quickly bounced on your heels, not wanting to piss him off even more. If Jungkook didn’t fire you, surely he would.

“Everyone, this is L/n Y/n. She’s our newest member of our financial team. It’s her first day here.” Everyone gave you strange looks as most people here at this table had witnessed the incident earlier.

It’s like you made the worst first impression you possibly could have.

The silence was deafening as everyone stared; you were tempted to run away, fake your death, get a new identity, and attempt to start your life over knowing things couldn’t get much worse than this. It took a moment, but eventually Taehyung, who sat right beside you, started clapping— slowly but surely everyone joined him. You looked down and smiled, mouthing him a thank you before you sat down.

Your eyes flickered over to Jungkook who was still staring at you. Your skin warmed as his gaze bored into you.

“Thank you, you may begin.” Jungkook finally said, leaning back in his chair.

A new line of products was supposed to be released shortly before the holiday season— namely a new line of TVs that had already been delayed multiple times, all for various reasons during development. They had been forced to push the date back as far as possible, right to the point before there would start to be major repercussions. Production had promised that they would be able to meet this new date, and production began a few weeks ago. Jungkook had thought the most troubling stage was over and the only thing that was left was handling this launch with the marketing team now. But a malfunction that was only realized this morning had been noticed, and all of the inventory they had managed to produce before today was completely unusable.

To make matters worse, the date they needed to have everything shipped out by was too close to have the now scarce inventory hit even the low range of their planned profit margin. It was a disaster and after Director Son explained the issue, Jungkook was ready to pull out his hair. Of course this had to happen today, of all the fucking days everything just had to go wrong. He couldn’t even think straight as everyone around the table started suggesting ideas, too busy trying to pull himself out of the funk that made him practically useless. He was convinced he was cursed, that had to be it because how does this all happen in one day?

This fuck up jeopardized everything— it was their biggest source of profit for the year and they thought they’d be able to make up for all the delays by having it at such an important part of the year. They already decided to invest extra in advertising to help boost sales far beyond what they’d traditionally expect. Now without the numbers they had planned for, the profit they had wanted to reach was virtually impossible. This was detrimental to next quarters budget and especially the following year. Any plans, projects, anything they had planned was now at risk, and—

The meeting ended up going on for quite a while. Everyone panicked as they tried brainstorming ideas that could be used to rectify the situation:

Some suggested seeing if they could push the launch back, but at this point that was even more disastrous than just releasing whatever they can manage to get done. Others suggested that this fell on production and that they should use intimidation to try and make the numbers get as close to what was planned. Jungkook normally was against ideas like that, but it was mind boggling how poorly these products had been handled so far. He had already been planning to meet with the executives over at the factories to figure out who he needed to hold liable for this. Others went on about distribution, how their department who handled Seoul, should be prioritized and that they should focus on the bigger stores, such as malls, in order to hopefully increase the chances of selling everything they could to at least get the highest profit they can. It went on and on. Another radical suggestion was increasing the price of the line of TVs to try and force a similar profit margin.

People just kept going and going and Jungkook was ready to bang his head against the table to hopefully get himself to wake up from this nightmare. Everyone was so loud as they bickered and fought that their way was better, and he tried his best to suppress wanting to just scream for them to just shut up and walk away from the situation all together. He was overwhelmed and it was even worse that he felt unhelpful, all efforts went to keeping himself firmly planted in his chair and not letting the tears spill over again.

What ended up surprising him was that it was you who came up with the best solution. In between all the nonsense, you were also very vocal during the meeting. You were knowledgeable as you spoke, asking questions any time you could and also giving your two-sense on the suggestions the rest of the team kept spewing out. Most of your takes he found himself easily agreeing with as you countered how none of those ideas worked. If Jungkook hadn’t encountered you before, he wouldn’t have guessed you were the same clumsy woman who spilled coffee on him earlier today. It was absolutely shocking considering the fact that today was your first day and you had only been briefly filled in on the situation.

Eventually though you had given your own opinion and one that stood out from the masses.

“Do nothing.” You had put it so simply. You argued that there was nothing that could be done and instead that they should just send out the inventory they created after today, though less of it, as planned and capitalize on the opportunity to create even more demand for the line. If production could get their shit together and deliver the product as promised, plus with the added reputation of the company, they should certainly sell, and sell quickly. While this would not prove fruitful immediately, during the time they would work on getting the next shipment together, this would create a demand that would hopefully be able to make up for any losses encountered during the launch.

It wasn’t the best considering what they had thought this new launch would bring, but it was the best idea he heard all afternoon, and the one he ultimately picked they should explore further. The team first had to crunch the numbers to make sure they could afford that type of risk, but at the moment, waiting, letting the scarcity create demand, and gently still pushing the production team to try and get the inventory as high as possible, was what he sent everyone away with in mind.

Jungkook wanted to hate you, you had basically ruined his favorite suit, but seeing you in this meeting had him momentarily forgetting about the incident in the hallway. He never really considered firing you. Despite being incredibly petty about the suit, he didn’t want to take his anger out on you or Director Son. This meeting just made him realize how great of an addition you would likely be for the team. If this was your first day and you had already managed to help work out a crisis, he could only imagine what you would do for the team’s future.

But today just wasn’t the day he could forgive you completely.

Thanks to you he was able to go home around the time he had planned. Since the entire financial team was there, they were quickly able to cover the points of their original meeting that was scheduled, and he ran off directly afterward to meet with Director Cho in his office for a discussion about marketing. It was still in the afternoon by the time he got back to the apartment. Part of him hoped he would find Yuri waiting for him with open arms, and they would leave together to start their day as he had planned.

It was wishful thinking, but that didn’t stop the disappointment from burning his heart when he came back to find it exactly how he had expected.

Empty.

Jungkook sighed and kicked off his shoes. Today was horrible.

He was about to head straight for the beer they kept in the fridge, but the various ingredients he found inside gave him an idea. If he didn’t try at all, how would he ever make this work? As much as Yuri hurt his feelings, he would still put on a happy face and be a good husband.

He got straight to work, tying up his apron and rolling up his sleeves.

Jungkook first contemplated what should make, and he decided pretty quickly once he double-checked what they had. Then he moved on to pulling out all the ingredients and putting them onto the counter.

He wasn’t a master chef or anything, Jungkook had hardly cooked for himself his entire life— his parents always had a chef to prepare their meals. It was when he moved out that he realized how much he enjoyed it. It wasn’t too often that he cooked, but when he did, it always brought him so much satisfaction knowing he made it. Not to brag, but despite his lack of experience, Jungkook could easily follow a recipe and turn out with something pretty decent at the end.

He decided to go with gimbap— it was relatively easy to make and increased his chances of not messing it up. By the time he had the rolls cut and ready on the plate, the sun had gone down.

Jungkook smiled as he looked at his creation. It was a little misshapen and the ingredients were spilling out from the sides, but he had high hopes on how it’d taste; he’d thrown in all of his favorite ingredients. It was cute and showed it was made by his own hands. He hoped this would be enough for them to at least spend a little time together when she got home.

He sent her a quick text telling her about a ‘little surprise’ waiting for her at the apartment and to hurry home as soon as she could. He even added a heart at the end, a sign of peace, so they could put what the day could have been behind them and move on to shaping what they could make of it now.

Jungkook let out a satisfied sigh before taking off his apron, grabbing one of the nicer containers they owned, placing the food inside, and setting it on the dining table ready to be eaten whenever Yuri came back.

He hoped this would be enough to get her to come home soon.

He changed into more relaxing clothes and headed straight to the couch, deciding to continue that show he had started a little while back. He hadn’t planned to be here long; for some reason, he pictured Yuri bursting through the doors at any second, but he should have known he would end up disappointed yet again.

After more time passed, Jungkook eventually pulled out his ice cream and the beer he’d promised himself not to go for.

He was depressed. It was worse than when he was in his office earlier. He wanted home to be his escape from the day he had, but it only made the problem worse just like he feared. All he could do was drown out his darkening thoughts with comfort cream and beer.

Even more time passed by and there was still no Yuri. At this point, Jungkook had to call Jimin knowing he couldn’t be alone right now. He was on the verge of another breakdown.

True to his nature, his hyung was at their apartment in no time.

Jimin’s face fell the minute Jungkook opened the door. His friend looked even worse than when he left the office, his eyes were lifeless behind the smile he tried to show. It hurt even worse when he noticed the uneaten dinner on the dining table. He could see Jungkook had pulled out all the fancy candles, plates, and silverware, but they remained untouched; clearly, he was waiting.

“Sorry I called you so late… I just didn't want to be alone right now.” It was more than that, and Jimin knew it.

In truth, the thoughts that seemed to keep echoing in his head worried him. Not even his favorite movie could take his attention away from the harsh realization of what he was facing right now. He knew not even Yuri coming home at that very moment would solve everything. He just needed someone to talk to, someone to distract him from his thoughts.

Jimin pulled him into a hug before guiding them inside. They both ended up sharing a few beers together, Jungkook venting nearly the entire time. It was good and played as the much needed therapy he wanted.

It was well into the night that after a few crying sessions and more beers, Jungkook was tipsy and better enough to send Jimin away.

It was late, really, really late.

He sent a few more texts to Yuri, now starting to get worried. None of them were answered.

The only thing that kept him sane was the fact that this wasn’t the first time it’s happened. She’d ghosted him before, leading Jungkook to nearly have a panic attack before she came back, claiming her phone had died. He just hoped maybe that’s what happened today.

More time passed by and his eyes started getting heavy as he continued to stare at his TV. He probably would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the sound of beeps from someone putting in the passcode for the door.

Jungkook sprung off of the couch as the door opened to reveal the girl he’d been wanting to see the entire day. Yuri slowly closed the door behind her, probably thinking he was asleep. All the lights were off except for the TV.

“Yuri?” He asked hesitantly, a bit scared he was dreaming.

She quickly turned around as soon as she heard his voice.

Part of him was tempted to yell, even scream at her for abandoning him the way she did, but he was in no mood to pick a fight. Instead, he steadily waddled over to the front door where she was standing, careful not to bump into any furniture but the room had started to spin.

Jungkook was a bit stunned when he noticed her outfit. It was dark, but he could still see she was wearing this short, little red dress that seemed to sparkle even in the darkness. He had a feeling that she and this mysterious “friend from the US” had probably gone out to a club. He didn’t even feel like interrogating her. Nope, instead he finally made his way over, wrapped his arms around her frame, buried his face into her shoulder, and bathed in her warmth.

Maybe he was a little more than tipsy…

“Missed you so much…” he whispered quietly into her skin as he placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, the slur in his words even noticeable to his ears.

Jungkook felt her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, a wave of excitement that he’d been missing all day washed over him.

“Did you really?” She lulled like a siren’s song, leading him down a path to forget everything that happened. He wanted to say something, but being drunk left him unable to form any cohesive thoughts to convey his feelings; the hurt he felt being abandoned, how much had he wished he spent this entire day running around Seoul with her by his side, how much had he hoped she would just come home so they could, at the very least, share a meal together. All of these moments, memories, time, and energy wasted.

But he didn’t want to turn this into another fight, instead he just nodded into her skin. “So fucking much.” It was a little more crude than the romantic declaration he was going for, but it didn’t matter. He meant what he said, he really did miss her.

Yuri hummed lightly into his ear, and he couldn't stop himself from pressing her against the wall, pulling back slightly so they were eye to eye, and resting his forehead against hers. Her presence was intoxicating, in a way that made all the worries so easily wash away. He was supposed to be mad, he had every right to be, but for some reason that didn’t stop his hand from coming up and his thumb gently caressing her cheek; so soft and warm.

He was definitely more than a little drunk at this point. Not to the point he was confused where he was, but he was faded enough to be wobbly on his feet, and the liquid courage was certainly flowing through his system to make him bolder than usual.

A moment passed, one that if he was more sober, he would have thought through more. Did he want this? Should he turn back? But whatever he felt in the past, it didn’t really matter anymore. His wife was here now, he should be happy.

If he was questioning it anymore, the look in her eyes was enough for that seesaw to finally land. It was sultry, like she wanted him to forget and he wanted to as well.

Jungkook felt the rush surge faster than any rational thought could stop, his lips were on hers in a haste to finally feel her. It was slow at first, Jungkook wanting her to know just how much he wanted her to be here with him. It made him feel so warm, the affection he’d been craving for all day was finally happening.

He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her further into the door and picking up the pace. It all happened so fast.

Suddenly his tongue was down her throat, he could taste the sweet alcohol she had probably drank, and with the fleeting reminder of the dress she was wearing as his hands ran up her thighs, an odd sense of possessiveness came over him. He had no idea who she was with, if this “friend from the US” even existed, but he had the odd feeling of making her remember exactly who she was to him. She was his wife, everyone, everywhere should know that.

Jungkook hastily picked her up and put her on the kitchen counter that was closest to him. His hands roamed her sides, tracing every curve with a hunger and need that saw no end. Soft sighs of pleasure fell from her lips as his hips steadily rocked into hers, and he relished in any sound he was able to draw out of her. All he wanted to do was make her feel good, that’s all he ever wanted. Her hands gripped his shirt tightly and he wished for nothing more than for her to rip it off of him. His skin burned and pleaded for more. As much as he enjoyed kissing her like this, this wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He picked her up again and led them over to their shared bedroom, he didn’t even bother turning on the lights as he gently laid her on their bed. Jungkook quickly slotted himself between her thighs and dived straight back to her lips.

His mind felt fuzzy, maybe it was just because he was more drunk than what he thought, but as he ground himself into her clothed core, the sudden realization of everything hit him hard.

They haven’t had sex in months, literal months since the last time he felt the warmth of her walls around him. They’ve done other things, but full-blown sex…

“Yuri… please….” He cried as his hand traveled under her dress to hover over her panties. Yuri quickly nodded and that was all he needed to lose his mind.

He pulled her dress up and moved down so he was staring at her clothed core.

He quickly pulled her panties down her legs before his face was buried between her thighs, and he was diving in for his rightful meal. Jungkook was good, using his tongue to work her clit and he had two fingers buried deep inside her, all the while he was practically fucking the mattress in a haste for any kind of friction.

When he said they hadn’t had sex it was more so that Jungkook hadn’t been touched in months. Jungkook was a good husband, always there to take care of his wife when she wanted him. But she never let him take things further. This was just another running problem in their marriage. His sex life was pretty much nonexistent. He never wanted to be that guy, and especially with the fact that their marriage was relatively new and they were still getting to know each other, he knew sex was going to be a tricky subject.

There were clear boundaries set, and he was okay with taking things slow right now, but does it leave him frustrated sometimes? Yes, extremely.

The amount of times Jungkook has done this for her, he knew her patterns and how to get her cumming on his tongue in no time. Her moans and pleas were all music to his ears, knowing he was doing something right for once.

By the time he pulled away, Jungkook was hardly keeping it together. He practically ripped off his shirt and pants, tossing them off the bed somewhere into the abyss of the darkness.

When he turned back to her, he was practically drooling at how fucked out she looked; Yuri’s hair cascaded around her, reminding him of the angel she looked like on their wedding day, and her dress was pushed up to her thighs and the straps were brought down revealing her tits.

Oh fuck. Now, now, now.

Jungkook hurriedly kissed her, before reaching over to his nightstand, and opening the drawer to grab a condom. The box wasn’t right there so his hand had to search and feel his way around— it didn’t take long, but it was too long in his desperation when he was finally pulling one out.

“Jungkook, wait… what are you doing?” Yuri asked once he finally managed to pull one out of the box.

He looked at her hoping this didn’t mean what he thought it did. He kissed her again and buried himself into her shoulder. “Baby please… wanna feel you…” he pleaded, grinding slowly into her heat. A moan fell from his lips, the friction was desperately needed. He would take anything at this point.

“Been so long… I missed you.” It was bad. His body was crying out for something, and he wanted Yuri to give him just that. It was starting to hurt.

“But it’s late, Jungkook. I’m tired.” Yuri sighed, making his heart drop.

“But…but…” he mumbled. He moved so he could see her face and he could immediately tell she wasn’t joking.

“It’s fine, I promise I’ll be quick. You worked me up so much, just—“

“Jungkook, not tonight, okay?” She grumbled, clearly done with the moment they shared. This is what happens all the time. He didn’t know why he thought it was going to be different considering the occasion, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a bit disappointed.

Jungkook just sighed and rolled off of her. His skin burned with need and he knew he had to do something. It hurt, it had been so fucking long.

He tried not to be mad but he was. He hurriedly got up from the bed.

“I’m going to take a shower… a very long shower.” He huffed.

“Jungkook you better not do that shit in our—“ was the last thing he heard before he slammed the door.

He tried to be calm; he didn’t want to get mad over something like this. The marriage was still new, there were going to be hurdles. It happens.

Today had just been terrible. All the emotions he had tried his best to suppress were coming out; he was angry, he was depressed, he was frustrated. There hadn’t been one moment that he felt like things were okay, today had been just as horrible as he thought it would be and then some since he woke up this morning.

All he wanted was some type of relief.

He quickly turned on the shower to hopefully stop her from hearing him, and got to work pleasing his body in the only way he could. His hand covered his mouth while the other traveled down his body, finally grabbing a hold of himself.

He thought about how today would have turned out if it went the way he wanted. Jungkook would have woken his wife up with every affirmation of how much he loved her, how happy she’d made him since they got married, as he showered her with all the praise his mushy heart would come up with in that moment.

Jungkook wouldn’t have wanted to leave her that morning, but duty calls and with the taste of her still on his tongue he would have gone to work. It was hard to be apart for those few hours. He would have struggled to keep his eyes off his phone as she cutely texted and pleaded for him to be home soon because she missed him so much.

The minute he would have returned Jungkook could hardly get inside before she was tackling him with kisses. She would have been already dressed for their day out, wearing that pretty off-the-shoulder dress with flowers all over it, knowing how much that one drives him crazy. But none of that mattered because the dress was hitting the floor before he could close the door behind him.

Another moment of passion and love as they did it right there on the floor. Jungkook would have been enthralled by her warmth and her love. She would have let her heart’s declarations spill from her mouth continuously as he held her in his arms; that she wanted him here, that she cared for him just as much as he did for her.

Then they were finally able to pull away from each other. It was just long enough that Jungkook could whisk her around Seoul to all the destinations he’d planned to take her. They’ve both lived in Seoul for most of their lives but Jungkook made sure to pick obscure but momentous places around the city that he was sure she’d enjoy:

A jazz lounge for a late lunch, he’d seen videos of the band that played there and he knew it would have been perfect to have in the background as they conversed. He also planned to take her to the mall– one of her favorite spots to go with her friends. He hoped to share some of that excitement and treat her to whatever she stumbled across that day, showing his wife just how much she means to him. He had pictured holding the bags while she dragged him along to wherever she wanted to go, sitting down for hours as she tried out dresses and him struggling to convey that he really meant it when he said she looked beautiful in whatever she put on. There was so much more, a day full of wonders, kisses, hugs. But the night would have ended with a nice, romantic walk by Han River, enjoying the sights and scenery in the cool September air. They would have hopefully gotten the chance to stop by this dessert place Secretary Yu told him about that she promised Yuri would love. Maybe they would have kept walking as they ate and talked their hearts out. Jungkook had practiced all these cheesy lines he hoped she would have liked, at least laugh at, anything to see her smile.

It would have been magical and when they would have made it back to the apartment, they would’ve immediately gone back to the room to end the night with a bang. She would have felt so good, he knew she would. He probably would have lost his mind just having his wife close and by his side. His heart would have melted every time she would look into his eyes. Her hands on him, pleading, pleading for him to make her feel good.

No, maybe… maybe even in this reality, the one where he had a horrible day, even then it would have been so nice to be with her. That’s all he wanted.

He whined and whimpered as his thumb traced along the tip, precum leaking profusely. His hand made quick work of its strokes, hastily trying to chase the pleasure he’d been denied of the whole day.

He had to resist the urge to scream when he ended up spilling all over his hand, stomach, and thighs. It had been way too long.

Jungkook ended up in the shower not too long after, the water cool against his skin to keep the burning desire for more at bay. Instead, he just thought about his day, how shitty it was.

Like of all days, he got coffee spilled all over him? It sounded like something out of a sitcom.

But you…

Suddenly he thought back to you, your long legs and red lipstick. You were definitely one of his saving graces. Without you, he would have been stuck worrying about this launch. That wasn’t completely alleviated, but the team had texted throughout the day that your method had looked promising, and especially considering what they already invested into advertising, the wave of demand would hopefully nearly double by the time the next shipment rolled out. Though it wasn’t going to be exactly the profit they had expected to bring in from this quarter, this method should hopefully in the long run make up for the botched launch.

Without you he might have still been at the office, the teams and him trying his best to come up with some sort of solution in dealing with the consequences and ramifications of such an unexpected fuck up. It was still odd that it had been weeks since production started, and they had only noticed this malfunction now…

He needed to head down to the factories and see for himself what exactly happened, but he already had a few names in mind of people who might not be here for much longer.

But he wouldn’t worry about that now, instead his mind drifted back to you during the meeting today.

He already knew working with you was going to be interesting, and despite the rough start, he was looking forward to seeing where you might go.

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#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #for the birds #bts #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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mythicalmaven · 2 months

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Beyond Boundaries • Oscar Piastri (PART FIVE)

Masterlist

Yes! You saw it correct! Time for chapter 5 already! <3 cant wait for chapter 6 already I tried something new this chapter & that was including some gifs in the chapter to make it a little more dynamic! It's just a little trial, so please let me know if you liked it or not, so that I know if I should include those more often :) So, just for the record, the chapter isn't finished after the gifs, it continues below the gif! :)

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader (norris!reader) ↳word count: 4.2K ↳ parts: part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six ↳chapter warnings: jealousy, first kiss, smut, 18+ content (mdni!), oral (male!receiving), fingering, emotional rollercoaster, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, Oscar finds himself grappling with unexpected feelings and rising tension, leaving him conflicted about how to handle his emotions

The rest of the holiday went by excruciatingly slow, the interactions between you and Oscar have been limited, you honestly were pretty much unable to look him in the eye, until you were pretty much forced by your job duties. Which meant you both had to put on a straight face and be act like the professional ones. The first time you spoke about what happened during your shared holiday, was the Wednesday before the Australian Grand Prix. You both had to attend the driver's meeting that was planned. His initial behavior towards you was distant and cold, something you completely understand. You had been avoiding him and he obviously noticed that.

Afterwards you had decided to take Oscar aside, asking him if he was okay with having a talk with you. It took you a few days to work up the courage to talk to him. You knew you shouldn't have avoided him for so long, he didn't deserve that treatment and you knew it. The talk with Oscar resulted in a big relief and a reparation of your friendship, a friendship with maybe potential for a little more.

*flashback to wednesday*

The two of you were sitting on the couch in Oscar's drivers' room, both looking at the floor. Talking about what happened during the holiday and how you both felt about it. You apologized to him about the way you handled everything and how you treated him. It was a good and relieving conversation, both glad that you made up. Because the both of you honestly couldn't stand this a day longer.

"I missed you" Oscar mumbled under his breath "I've felt annoyingly incomplete these past days"

You rested your head on his shoulder "I missed you too, Osc" you murmured back at him "I missed our jokes, our silly little facetime calls in the middle of the night, our movie night. I've missed my best friend"

Friendzone, that's what Oscar felt himself getting pushed back into. He rolled his eyes, puffing out a frustrated sigh "Don't you think you should stop calling me that?"

You looked at him confused "What? Why?"

Oscar raised an eyebrow at you, rolling his eyes "I think we both know we crossed that line the moment you gave me a handjob, don't you think?"

You chuckled at him, laughing it off a little "It wasn't just me! You pleasured me too, you know?"

Oscar threw his hands up defensively "Hey! You started it!" he joked back at you.

Another laugh left your lips "Sure, we went beyond boundaries, but that doesn't mean you can't still be my best friend?"

The Australian driver jokingly shot you a suggestive look "What if I don't want to be just your best friend?"

"Osc.." you uttered "We both know we shouldn't go down that road"

"I know, and I agree that it's for the best if we don't, but it doesn't change my feelings for you" he said, verbally admitting his feelings towards you for the first time "I can't change the fact that I'm in love with you"

You looked at him, softly placing a hand on his thigh, trying to comfort both yourself and him. You wanted to kiss him, but you can't, you shouldn't. It tore you apart, but it was for the best. You found yourself unable to reply to his words, too overwhelmed.

"Just be honest with me please, do you have feelings for me?" Oscar asked, placing his hand on top of yours.

You looked at him, his brown eyes meeting yours "Yes"

*back to present*

It was Sunday, which meant it was race day. The race took the least expected turn, which lead to Max not even finishing and Carlos securing another win. The whole ordeal resulting in your brother on the podium for a 3rd place and Oscar finished right behind him in 4th. To say that you were proud, would have been a massive understatement. Event though the boys themselves might be a little disappointed about not reaching the top step, you were over the moon. To celebrate Carlos' victory the drivers had decided to go to a well known nightclub in Melbourne.

You were currently trying to convince Oscar to join the lot of you, which seemed to be a lot more difficult than you would have liked "Come on Oscar! You gotta come!"

Charles piped in, leaning on your shoulder "Yes! Listen to y/n! It won't be as bad as you think!" Charles exclaimed "And! Not entirely unimportant, those nightclubs are full of hot women. You cant convince me that you wouldn't enjoy having a little fun with a gorgeous woman"

"I don't need a random girl twerking on me, thanks. I'm fine where I am" Oscar replied a little uncomfortable. Yes he definitely would enjoy having a little fun with a gorgeous woman; but only if that woman was you.

Charles looked at him and rolled his eyes "Don't be a party pooper, Piastri" he joked, putting his arm around your shoulder, sending Oscar a little puppy dog face "Do it for us?"

"Fine" he huffed, finally giving in

"Yayy!" you cheered, jumping into Oscar's arms, hugging him enthusiastically.

—————⋆₊⁺☾⋆the nightclub⋆☾⋆₊⁺—————

A few hours had passed since you all arrived at the nightclub, one that was pretty private and today only allowed entrance to the drivers, f1 staff and their invitees as well as a few other high established guests. So to speak, it was safe for the drivers to have a fun night out without the media getting involved.

You couldn't deny you might have had a few too many cocktails, completely unaware of just how drunk you were. Oscar stood at the bar, a beer in one hand and the other in his pocket, watching you intently. His gaze was locked on Carlos, who was dancing with you far too sensually for Oscar's liking.

The music thrummed through the room, a sultry beat promising temptation. You felt Carlos's steady hand on your waist as you moved together, the rhythm guiding your steps. His touch was warm and reassuring, but your eyes kept darting over his shoulder, seeking out Oscar.

Oscar stood on the opposite side of the room, his gaze fixed on you. He watched every sway of your hips, every flick of your hair, the intensity in his eyes palpable. You met his stare head-on, a smirk playing on your lips as you leaned closer to Carlos, your fingers trailing lightly down his arm.

You saw the muscle in Oscar's jaw tighten, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Carlos was getting on his nerves today. If he wasn't driving him off the track, he was stealing the girl of his dreams. Yes, Oscar knew he was exaggerating the problem, but with too much beer in his system, he was extra annoyed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Lando asked, following Oscar's gaze. "Oh, that's what's bothering you," he chuckled.

Oscar and Lando's friendship had fortunately returned to normal quickly after the whole ordeal. After his talk with you, Lando immediately went to Oscar, apologizing for the situation. They discussed many things, including Oscar's feelings for you, which Oscar found incredibly scary due to his previous reaction. Lando admitted he had been too overprotective and childish. He told Oscar he realized he would always be protective over his sister, but if she had to date someone, it might as well be someone he trusted more than anyone, pretty much giving him a green light.

Oscar downed the rest of his beer in one go, almost slamming the glass on the bar, and ordered two shots. "I need more alcohol," he huffed.

"Oscar, she's single and drunk, it doesn't mean anything to her. She probably just wanted to have a little fun and Carlos was at the right place at the right moment" Lando laughed, knowing his sister well. "And besides, I can guarantee you Carlos isn't interested in her that way. They just like to flirt sometimes."

"Yeah, everyone but me," Oscar huffed, handing Lando one of the shots he ordered.

Lando laughed again, rolling his eyes. "That's your own fault, you idiot. You're the one standing by the bar instead of on the dance floor."

"I can't dance," Oscar stated simply, trying not to say too much.

"Mate, if you dance with her, she'll probably take the lead anyway," Lando began, running a hand through his curls, looking back at his sister. "And you're blind as well, by the way."

Oscar gave the Brit a confused look before Lando immediately opened his mouth. "Oscar, it disgusts me to say this because she is my sister. But she's literally undressing you with her eyes. Eww." Lando pulled a disgusted face before continuing. "She's been looking at you pretty much every few seconds. I know my sister; she's one hundred percent trying to make you jealous, mate."

"Even if she is, what am I supposed to do about that?" Oscar scoffed, redirecting his gaze towards you to see if Lando was right. "She's the one who told me we shouldn't be together."

"She said you guys shouldn't date; she didn't say anything about being friends with benefits, did she?" Lando said, pulling yet another disgusted face. "It's honestly downright revolting to talk about my sister doing stuff like that, but someone had to tell you because I'm going insane from all your pining."

While the two boys stood there, Daniel joined them, putting his arm around Lando's shoulder. "Lando is right, you know."

"See! Even Danny agrees!" Lando exclaimed.

Daniel laughed at Lando's enthusiasm, glad to see he made up his mind. "You could always give her a taste of her own medicine. Go dance with my sister over there," he said, pointing at the brunette dancing with Pierre and Charles. "Just whisper in her ear that I sent you and that you need to make Y/N jealous, and I'm sure she'll play along."

"Daniel, how do you expect me to do that? I have the social skills of a peanut," Oscar replied.

The two boys laughed at Oscar, finding it incredibly funny how awkward he could be. "Just go! Go with the flow, come on, live a little!"

"Ugh, fine," Oscar huffed, a sigh of annoyance leaving his lips as he walked off towards the crowd of people on the dance floor.

Lando looked back at Daniel, giving him a smirk. "Mint."

"It's funny to see how quick you turned around. I'm proud of you, though," Daniel told Lando, still leaning his head on the younger one's shoulder.

"Would be a little hypocritical of me, now wouldn't it?" Lando replied, turning around in Daniel's arms, giving him a quick, sneaky peck on the cheek before pulling away quickly to make sure no one saw.

"Honestly surprised she hasn't figured it out yet. We've been a little too obvious, no?" Daniel asked.

Lando chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "And that's exactly why she hasn't caught on to it yet. I'll tell her eventually, though."

Meanwhile Lando and Daniel were talking, Oscar was already on the dance floor, his arms around Michelle, Daniel's sister. He explained his plan to her, which she replied to with a roll of her eyes and a giggle, but gladly agreed to. It felt wrong, horribly wrong. The alcohol was making it a lot easier, kinda served as liquid courage.

"She's looking" Daniel's sister whispered in his ear, gliding her arms over his back.

As the music shifted to a slower, more sensual rhythm, he pulled her close, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. He whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, her hand resting comfortably on his shoulder.

You felt a sharp pang of jealousy twist in your gut. Carlos must have sensed the change in your demeanor because he gave you a questioning look. But you were too focused on the scene unfolding before you to offer any explanation.

Oscar's hand was low on Michelle's back, guiding her movements with a practiced ease. She looked up at him through her lashes, a playful smile on her lips, and he responded with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking to you for the briefest of moments. It was a challenge, a direct provocation.

Determined not to let him see how much it affected you, you pressed closer to Carlos, your movements becoming more fluid and seductive. You laughed at something Carlos whispered, but the sound was hollow even to your own ears.

Across the room, Oscar spun Michelle, his hand lingering on hers a fraction longer than necessary. He dipped her, their faces inches apart, and your heart raced with a mixture of anger and something you didn't want to name. When he pulled her back up, their gazes locked, and the air between them seemed as though it crackled with unspoken tension.

But it was the look he shot you afterward, a look filled with defiance and raw emotion, that made your breath catch. The dance floor had become a battleground, each movement a strategic play in a game of jealousy and desire. And neither of you was willing to back down.

Carlos's hand slid up your arm, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you. "You okay?" he murmured, concern lacing his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just... caught up in the moment."

But as you glanced back at Oscar, now laughing with Michelle as if nothing else mattered, you knew the truth. The moment was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher.

"You're trying to make him jealous, aren't you?" Carlos whispered in your ear, a smirk growing on his lips.

"Duh, obviously" you retorted, pulling the Spaniard even closer, your arms around his neck inching his face even closer to you.

"Well, I think it's working. He's coming over" he spoke in a low voice "Keep your eyes on me until he's here, cariño"

You tried your best not to look behind you, feeling the adrenaline surge through your body, nerves overwhelming you. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, the familiar warmth of Oscar's fingers enclosing your upper arm, pulling you out of Carlos' grasp. You looked into his eyes, and before you could react, he cupped your cheek in his hand and smashed his lips to yours.

The kiss was fierce and urgent, a release of all the emotions both of you had been holding back. His lips moved against yours with a desperate intensity, and you matched his fervor, your hands flying to his shoulders, then tangling in his hair. You could taste the faint bitterness of beer on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

Oscar's other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your bodies moved in sync, pressing against each other as if trying to meld together. You tugged at his hair, eliciting a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your own chest.

The kiss grew messier, more frantic, fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins. His hands roamed your back, gripping and kneading, while your fingers traced the line of his jaw, down to his neck, then back up to his hair. The world around you blurred into nothingness; there was only Oscar, his touch, his taste, his heat.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to break apart, but only just. Your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. His eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and you could feel his heartbeat echoing the wild rhythm of your own.

Oscar's voice was a rough whisper as he spoke, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

You nodded slightly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. "Me too."

For a moment, neither of you moved, savoring the closeness, the shared warmth, the unspoken promise hanging in the air. The nightclub continued to pulse around you, but in that moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

Oscar pressed his lips to yours again, more a short brush of your lips this time "Come back to the hotel with me? No strings attached" he proposed, his voice a little husky.

That's how you both ended up in the elevator, on its way to the floor where both of your hotel rooms were located. Oscar had pinned you against the elevator wall, his lips feverishly peppering your neck with kisses, unable to hold back. His hands roamed from your back to your stomach, slipping under your top to grab your hips, his thumbs pressing into your hipbones.

"I need you so bad, love," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and ragged.

"Fuck, Osc— I-I need you too," you moaned out, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer.

His mouth moved up to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongues tangling with a desperation that made your head spin. You could taste the remnants of alcohol on his tongue, mixed with the raw desire that fueled both of you. Your hands explored his body, fingers slipping under his shirt to feel the hard muscles of his back, the heat of his skin.

Oscar's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him. The elevator hummed around you, but all you could focus on was the sensation of his hands, his mouth, his body pressing into yours. He trailed kisses along your jawline, nipping at your earlobe before returning to your lips with renewed hunger.

You arched into him, your back pressing harder against the cool metal wall of the elevator. The contrast between the cold surface and Oscar's fiery touch sent shivers down your spine. His hands slid up, pushing your top higher, his fingers splaying over your ribs as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin.

"Oscar," you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and need.

He responded with a low growl, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that stole your breath away. One hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you to him. The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the desired floor, but neither of you moved, lost in the moment.

Reluctantly, Oscar broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes burned with desire as they locked onto yours. "You okay with my hotel room?" he asked in a whisper, his voice husky with promise

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the kiss. Hand in hand, you stumbled out of the elevator, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you made your way to Oscar's room, ready to lose yourselves in each other.

Oscar reached inside of his pockets to grab his keycard, fumbling with it to open the door. When he finally managed to open it, he pulled you inside with him. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Oscar pinned you against the wall, his body pressing into yours. His breath was hot against your ear as he murmured huskily, "I can't wait any longer."

His lips found yours in a heated kiss, his hands roaming your body with a desperate need. One hand slid up under your top, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, while the other moved lower, slipping under your skirt. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you ached for him.

"Oscar," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "You have no idea how much I want you," he whispered seductively, his lips grazing your jawline.

His fingers found their way to your core, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties. You moaned softly as he began to caress you, his touch both gentle and insistent. His other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could claim your lips once more.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I need to make you feel good."

You could only respond with a whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his fingers moved with expert precision. He circled your sensitive nub, then slipped a finger inside you, his thumb still working on your clit. The dual sensations had you arching into him, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"That's it, love," he purred, his lips now trailing down your neck. "Let go for me."

He added another finger, curling them just right, and your world narrowed down to the feel of his touch and the sound of his voice. His whispered sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he needed you, how he wanted to watch you come undone.

Your body responded to his every word, the tension building inside you until it was almost unbearable. "Oscar," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

"I've got you," he breathed softly, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing more firmly. "Come for me, love."

With a cry, you shattered around him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. He held you through it, his fingers still working you gently, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm.

When you finally came down, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily. He withdrew his hand, bringing it up to cradle your face as he kissed you tenderly, his touch now soft and soothing.

"You're amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with love and awe.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure. "So are you," you replied breathlessly, your fingers tracing his jawline "I need you to fuck me, Osc"

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I don't want to remember my first time with you as a drunk encounter against my hotel room door." he admitted, honesty evident in his voice.

"At least let me make you feel good then" you smiled at him, feeling a sudden boost of confidence taking you over as you flipped the two of you around, Oscar now being the one pinned to the wall. You send him a lustful look and sank to your knees, looking up at him with (not so) innocent eyes.

Oscar let his head fall back against the wall, letting out a soft groan as he felt your hands explore his thighs. His hands moving to your hair, tangling his fingers in it. You fingers were moving extremely slowly, fully on purpose, trying to make the young Australian go insane. You carefully unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling it down his thighs. You used your teeth to pull his boxers down, causing Oscar to let out an almost embarrassing whine "Fucking tease" he uttered, his voice nothing but a rough whisper.

You lips traveled from his abdomen to his thighs and back, placing soft kisses everywhere, except for where he needed your lips the most. The sensation was electric as your lips met Oscar's skin, biting, sucking, and leaving a trail of marks in their wake.

Oscar tugged at your hair and moaned out loud as you finally closed your lips around the head of his cock, sucking softly. Your mouth felt even better than it did in his fantasies, Oscar felt like he was in heaven. He didn't want to feel like a teenager and cum too quickly, but the alcohol in his system and the way you worked your magic on him, caused the knot in his stomach to tighten quickly. Adrenaline and heat moving through his body, taking a tighter grip on your hair "Fuck, y/n"

You licked and sucked, causing Oscar's breath to get caught in his throat. Tongue dancing over the sensitive flesh, coaxing a gasp from Oscar. Each movement sent waves of extreme pleasure coursing through his body, moans only growing louder every second. Unable to hold back the sound escaping his lips.

You then took his whole length in your mouth, your nose almost touching his abs, before releasing most of his member, except for the tip. You looked up at him through your lashes as you twirled your tongue against the underside of his cock "F-Fuck... wait" Oscar uttered, stumbling on his words, his breath coming out in ragged puffs.

You pulled off him for a little while and looked at him, a little concerned "What's wrong?" you asked softly

"F-Fuck, I'll come if you do that again"

A smirk formed on your lips, Oscar's dick disappears back between your lips. You bob your head up and down again, the rhythm pretty much perfect for Oscar. Another satisfied moan escapes his lips, right before you repeat your previous action, immediately feeling his himself get closer to the edge. He tried to pull you off his cock, but you refused, only sucking him harder, your eyes meeting his again.

Oscar feels his orgasm washing over him in a way he has never experienced before, emptying himself in your mouth. You swallowed it all, before slowly pulling away, before you slowly rose from your knees, wiping your lips with the back of you hand. Your lips were puffy and red, your hair a mess. The sight of it almost enough to make Oscar get hard all over again.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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kaylopolis · 3 months

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Five

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This was my first attempt at smut (I giggled posting this, I am so excited!). I am new, but any advice is welcome! I tried something different with formatting (you'll see when you get there). I didn't want anything to be spoiled while ya'll rode the emotional rollercoaster that is this chapter. Let me know if it was weird and didn't work (or if it did that would be great!). I also added a link to the music found in a later part of this chapter in case you wanted to listen while you read.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Five - Night's Mistress

Content Warning: Blood, Blood Play, Murder, Choking, Graphic Sexual Scenes Involving Violence, Smut, MINORS DNI! (let me know if I missed anything else!)

The pull behind your navel felt foreign.

It didn’t come with the taste of honey or the scent of daffodils like Rosie’s summons normally did. It didn’t come with a hint of sass or flood your mouth with spice like Carmilla’s. Crimson’s tasted of red pepper flakes and copper - a disgusting combination - but he was no longer an issue.

This pull, however, was new and terribly, terribly… boring.

Has one of your cards fallen to a rogue with sticky fingers? Has one of your holders died and a new holder taken their place?

Whomever it was, the pull made you pause atop your perch overlooking V Tower. With Vox’s new Angelic Security soon to be released, you didn’t know how close you could get to the media demon’s headquarters. So you sat a few buildings away, scanning the horizon for any newfound technology that might impede your nighttime endeavors.

There was another tug.

Jesus, impatient much?

You stood, stretching the stiffness from your legs. It was late, you’ve been out here for hours watching absolutely nothing happen. All the Vees like to do is sit, drink, and talk shit. Seriously what did they get out of their friendship? Was it friendship? Or were they all fucking? Ugh, you did not want that picture in your head.

Okay, time to go.

You jumped, allowing the smoke to envelop your form. Feeling the pull, you headed toward the inner part of the city. Circling Heaven’s Clocktower, you broke off back toward the Magne District - the district that held the Hotel. Except you weren’t headed for your new home. The pull brought you left, almost to the border town but not quite, to an old tower.

In a plume of smoke, you landed on a balcony, the black swirls twirling about the landing before pooling over the sides. You were probably twenty stories up, the tallest building around. Not nearly as tall as V Tower - which the balcony gave you a great view of - but still, Pentagram City was striking.

The balcony was connected to an apartment, reachable to the world only by an elevator at its center. Behind you was a wall of glass, heavy curtains preventing you from peering inside. On the balcony sat a small table, framed by two iron chairs. The setup was empty, except for your card which sat atop the table, a single drop of blood at its center.

You took a step, your feet finding a puddle of red before you finally noticed the body. It was face down, scarlett flooding from a wound which wasn’t visible to you. It didn’t appear to be anyone you knew. Definitely a Human Sinner, but not one particularly interesting.

So who in Hell summoned you?

As if on cue, a zip of static runs across the back of your neck.

Of-fucking-course…

“Ah, there you are,” Alastor emerges from the darkened apartment, shutting the door behind him with a kick of his heel, a smooth jazz playing on his radio.

Your heart skips a beat as his eyes find yours. Half-lidded, he smirks, a bottle of wine in one hand and a pair of glasses in another.

Your eyes flit between the dead Sinner on the floor and the red demon before you. “You did not use your own blood?" This was a first. Cardholders always used their own blood. Although not directly stated, it was implied.

“Heavens, no!” The demon places the glasses on the table, next to the obsidian calling card, as he uncorks the bottle using the tip of his claw. “We barely know each other. That would be too…” His eyes slid to yours. You feel his gaze rake over your form eliciting a blush beneath your cloak. “Intimate.”

Jesus.

You stifle a sharp intake of breath.

Get your shit together. You’re a fucking Overlord for Christ’s sake.

You drop his gaze, eyeing the half-dead pile of blood beneath your feet.

“Ah, apologies for the mess,” Alastor snaps and the Sinner, along with the blood, disappears. “Wine?” The red demon holds a glass out to you, liquid sloshing in its basin.

You look at your boots before moving, noticing he even wiped the blood from their leather. How thoughtful.

Goblet in hand, you finally join the Radio Demon in the chair adjacent to his, and gaze out to the City.

It was quiet, the hustle of Pentagram City’s nightlife drowned out by his jazz. Funny, you thought it almost peaceful. Could Hell be peaceful? No. That would be an oxymoron. Hell was designed not to be peaceful by definition. Yet all the way up here, tucked far back from the rest of the chaos, you could pretend it was.

The demon sits back in his chair, crossing his legs at his knees. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his shoes have a print on the bottom - a deer’s hoof. How fitting.

The obsidian calling card sits between you, a drop of scarlet crusting on its surface. Letters in white slowly fade from the card’s edge, signifying the death of the card owner. Whoever the Hell Stanley Jenkins was, Alastor had killed him and used his blood instead. Smart actually, for the card comes with its own parameters…

And to the Sinners without a card? That was a bit trickier. Only a handful of obsidian calling cards were in circulation, and only cardholders could summon you at will. To the lower rung demons without the honor, they had to go through back channels. That’s what you used Rosie for. The Cannibal Queen knew all the best gossip in town, her network of information reached every edge of the Pentagram. She was your starting point for potential hits - you took care of the rest.

“A toast,” Alastor holds his glass out to you. “To power and chaos.”

You freeze.

The demon clinks his glass with yours.

You had not heard that phrase in a very long time.

You look to the Radio Demon and watch as he sips his wine, the red liquid kissing his lips as he drinks.

More importantly, where had he heard that phrase?

And then it clicks.

Lilith. You last heard that from Lilith.

“It isn’t poisoned. I assure you,” Alastor purrs, bringing your thoughts back to the wine. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.” The demon chuckles.

You shudder at the sudden static vibrating through your bones.

You put a pin in this conversation - a mental note. You had more homework to do.

You swirl the red around the glass, noting the alcohol crystals sticking to the sides. It was an older wine, a heavier red by the color. The liquid wooed you in scents of dark berry, cloves, and cedar. You could taste the tannins on your tongue before the liquid even hit your teeth. God, was it a thick red, so dry it left your mouth parched for more. Alastor couldn’t see your face beneath the hood, but if he could, he would see the moan you stifled behind closed lips.

God, it was almost Heavenly.

“One of my more everyday favorites,” Alastor smiled at the world below, his eyes sparkling with the reflection of City lights. “Although, I have far better in my cellar.”

In my cellar. Your ears perked up at that, although you tried to hide it, the twitch of Alastor’s lips told you he had noticed. The Radio Demon knew something about you now: you liked wine.

Was that what this meeting was all about? He wanted to gather more information on the Shadow? The way he made it seem at Carmilla’s was that there was a deal to be made. He thought you two could benefit from some sort of… partnership. Yet, you sit here and drink.

This wasn’t how your deals often went. Usually, you showed up, and Sinners demanded action straight away. They practically begged you for your help, all too eager to make a deal. Lesser demons were pathetic, demons thinking themselves anything more attempted to look strong or intimidating, but the second they saw your eyes, they cowered. You’d like to think it the same as Zestial’s situation but you didn’t dare compare yourself to someone as great as him.

Alastor, however, sat before you as an entertainer, a flatterer, a narcissist obsessed with his image. He didn’t just want to make a deal with you - if he did at all - he wanted to put on a show. Offering you a drink and a lovely view of the City communicated to you that he didn’t see you as a threat, but you already knew that. The question then was, did he respect you, and why did it bother you so much not to know?

You turned the bottle to read the label: Stag’s Leap. How fitting.

“Have you read the Allegory of the Cave*?” Alastor posits.

You nod. Of course, who hasn’t read Plato?

“When the man leaves the cave and makes it to the surface and is finally disenchanted with the shadows below, why do you suppose he returns?” Alastor takes another sip, waiting for you to answer, because he genuinely cares as to what you have to say.

“To free the two he left behind,” your voice growls.

“Hmm,” he ponders. “I supposed that as well, but never understood. To have the power of knowledge and to then share it… To not take advantage when it benefited him so. I see it as a tragedy.”

“Perhaps it is the Humanity in all of us.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed. “And if there is no Humanity left?”

“Return…” Your lips curled, “and kill the other two.”

Alastor tipped his head back and laughed, a deep chuckle from his chest. No laugh track followed. Was that genuine? A real laugh from Alastor and not the façade of the Radio Demon. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest at the thought.

Focus!

“Alastor, why have you summoned me?”

The Radio Demon’s lips faltered ever so slightly, his cheery attitude hardening. He thought a long moment before answering. “It seems we have found ourselves in quite the predicament.” He places the glass on the table and folds his fingers in his lap, his attention on the City below. Your eyes follow his, all the way to V Tower.

Ah, yes Velvette and Vox.

“Velvette can be quite the troublemaker.”

“And Vox can be quite the thorn.” You counter, taking another sip.

God, the wine was so good.

“I have… information worth your while.” His teeth shined.

“And in return?”

“A quid-pro-quo. I have been gone a long time, but my relationships with those I am… close with have held strong. That is the perk of being as old as I am. I am tried and true. You are new blood, officially worth a seat at the table. That seat will be tested.” There was an edge to his words now. “Do not take Velvette’s silence for inaction.”

You did not.

Yet, what could Alastor know that you have not yet uncovered yourself? After all, you have been watching them these past few days. Surely something would have come up by now.

You scoffed, finding the underlying meaning in his words. “Is that what happened with Vox?”

The Radio Demon stiffened. There it was, a hint of that barely contained anger. Oh, how you would love to see it unleashed.

You sniffed, searching for the scent of rage, of jasmine green tea - the main reason why you loved the drink. Yet there was nothing. Irritation prickled your skin. You have never been able to not read someone before. What made this Sinner so special?

“That is what you want from this… partnership, is it not?” You prod, hoping he will give away something, anything that might clue you in as to why you are here.

The demon returned to his wine, a muscle in his jaw flickering with agitation. He didn’t like appearing weak.

Narcissist.

“The plans I have in mind are far bigger than that poor excuse for an entertainment system.”

You snorted.

Alastor’s strained smile softened.

Hmm, a quid-pro-quo, huh? Still, he hasn’t said what he wants out of this deal.

You took another sip to think, noting your glass was already empty.

The Radio Demon cleared his throat, wine bottle in hand, gesturing for your cup. His fingers brushed yours as you handed him the glass, sending a wave of static through to your core. You pulled back too fast, bringing your arm to your chest. The demon’s eyes gleamed in amusement.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You are not afraid of the Radio Demon, so why were you acting like an idiot? Never let your weaknesses show and you just gave him a clear indication that he intimidated you. You are a FUCKING OVERLORD.

Why was this not easier with a mask on??? At the Hotel, you didn’t back down, but still, you let him think less of you. Not here. Here you are the fucking Shadow, you didn’t have to pretend. You had no reason to be so nervous.

So why was the smile on his face and the look in his half-lidded eyes making your heart do backflips in your chest? Why was it when he handed the glass back you were conscious to not let your fingers touch his? Why were you so grateful for the space between you two yet also so, so irritated by it?

“You still have not told me what you seek to gain.” You prayed your voice didn't sound as unnerved as you felt.

His smile went cockeyed. “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.”

That didn’t sound like a partnership. That sounded like an alliance. Is this the same type of deal he had with Rosie? Interestingly, they seemed more like friends than something so surface-level as an alliance. Perhaps it started out that way and blossomed into one?

The butterflies in your stomach kicked up in a flurry. The Radio Demon thought you were worth his time. Your cheeks heated. He thought you could help him - in some sort of capacity. God, why did that make you wanna squeal like a small child?

“I will not be signing a contract,” you warned.

Rosie informed you of Alastor’s contract crafting abilities. The demon was meticulous, bordering on obsessive when it came to exacting details. Line-by-line he would work and when it was finally done, the deal would appear flattering in what it would have to offer. Somehow, Alastor always made it seem like it was you who was the one to benefit. Yet, that was never the case. It was a trap, a beautifully disguised ploy which demoted you to a creature privy to his whim. Alastor was a master and the signee his pet - he would have it no other way.

You’d die before you signed anything he authored.

The demon laughed. Yet, underneath, there was a hint of irritation. “Oh, no. I did not expect that, I assure you. Ours will be one of a verbal agreement.”

You let that marinate. He won’t be getting your name, but an agreement will still be made, and in Hell, that was a very powerful thing indeed. You’ve made plenty of verbal agreements before. Fuck, every hit you contracted was a verbal agreement - silence and the contractee’s soul in exchange for murder. The terms you set were quite simple, actually, yet strong enough to have kept any hint, any suspicion of who you are and how to find you, out of the mouths of Pentagram City’s most powerful. Yes, the media did try to track you down, even attempted to hunt you at one point, but they haven’t gotten very far. And they never will if you had anything to do with it…

You took a sip, letting the flavors melt off your tongue one final time, before standing and offering a hand.

The demon’s eyes lit up with a crimson fire, his lips curling at the edges. He looked far too eager for this deal and that made you hesitate.

Dealing with Alastor was like dancing - a dance you both pretended not to be leading but also refused to be the follower in. It was a game of power, you see. Yes, dancing had its steps and rules - a waltz is a waltz after all - but the direction it was going, the added flare to the spins, the story the choreography told - that was where you battled. Thus, you needed to be a half-step ahead of Alastor at all times - without him knowing, of course - until either the dance ended or you found a way to end him.

The Radio Demon took your hand, and as you gazed into his eyes, you watched his pupils dilate. The glow of your yellow irises reflected in their dark center, an aura of red encircling your hooded form. A river of blue and green exploded from where your hands touched, twirling about you like the eye of a beautifully destructive hurricane.

The wind whipped Alastor’s hair about his face, his smile never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours as a connection snapped between the two of you. Like a thin string bridging your souls, you could, for a moment, feel Alastor on the other end, feel his static radiating from his core before the connection faded entirely.

It was done.

“A pleasure,” he purred.

You attempted to step back and break away from his grasp, but the demon responded by clamping down and pulling you to him. You stumbled, your other hand coming to his chest to prevent your fall. The hood atop your head shifted back ever so slightly, but not enough to reveal your face or to give away anything underneath.

The shadows engulfing your feet twirled and twirled about you, yet you remained frozen. Alastor was a solid wall of muscle beneath his suit; even with gloves on, you could feel the marble from which his chest was sculpted. You took a breath before you pulled your hand away before your brain finally caught up with the rest of you.

“Beautiful,” Alastor’s voice deepened.

You dared a glance from beneath your hood and found the demon’s eyes locked on the silver embroidery of your cloak. With his other hand, he ghosted over the trim, his fingers tracing the hard edges of the stitching. Yet, at no point did he actually touch the black fabric. If he did, his fingers would phase through it, just as Velvette’s had at the meeting.

Without saying anything, he dropped the grip on your fist, freeing you from his clutches. You stumbled backward, grasping your hood and pulling it forward to ensure it stayed in place. Alastor couldn’t remove it, but that little stunt he pulled almost ruined everything you had worked for.

Your body grew cold as you backtracked to the railing, your little meeting coming to an end. You watched as Alastor’s grin turned into a lopsided smirk as he shoved his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly watching you flee.

Your instincts were screaming again, but this time, they were telling you not to let the demon out of your sight.

Passing by the table, you noted the obsidian calling card. He would use it to summon you from here on out, but he would never be using his own blood. His real name would be made to you then, and he would never risk that.

Take advantage of the power given, was what he recollected from Plato, and use it to slaughter others.

“Velvette is using a third party to buy weapons from Carmilla Carmine,” the demon finally spoke, breaking the tension. He turned to the skyline, absentmindedly analyzing V Tower as he talked. “The female Vee, however, is not the fighter of the group, she leaves that to Vox and Valentino. Velvette destroys by reputation. She is not much to fear if armed, but if privy to certain information, she will use that to destroy her enemies.”

A.K.A do not let her find out who you are.

You paused as your back hit the railing. You let your shadows build beneath your feet before you jumped in order to conceal your form as you flew. “Vox’s Angelic Security is in place but not online. It expands two blocks from V Tower. If anyone were to make a move, he would see it coming.”

The Radio Demon nods. He pauses a moment before adding, “Carmilla killed the Angel.”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. How the Hell did he know that?

“Carmilla is monitoring the Vees,” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you grabbed hold of the railing. “She doesn’t want them making a move against Heaven.” You needed to get away. This meeting was getting dangerous. Losing your cool and almost losing your hood in the span of minutes? You were never this sloppy. Alastor made you sloppy.

“Interesting,” his voice stopped you again.

You spun, raising an eyebrow in question. His lopsided smirk only grew. “You didn’t ask me how Carmilla killed the Angel.”

Fuck. He knew. He knew you already knew. He didn’t have to look at you to see the surprise in your eyes, he had figured it out by your response alone.

“Goodnight, Alastor,” you gave a shallow head bow before jumping off into the night, Alastor’s fucking grin following you into the sky.

____________________________________________

It was late when you returned. You took a few extra spins about Pentagram City before heading back, trying to collect your thoughts on everything that had just happened.

You had surmised two important things: One, Alastor’s absence wasn’t just about Lilith. The demon somehow knew Lilith. Perhaps it was because of her that he left in the first place. Which you already somewhat suspected, but this confirmed it. Two, Alastor wanted the Vees dealt with, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone.

A quid-pro-quo in taking out the Vees. Now, things were getting interesting. This didn’t derail your plans, however, little Ms. Morningstar was still heading in the direction you needed her to go for everything to work. You didn’t need the Vees for the endgame - you had other powers in your back pocket with far more influence than the three of them. Plus, the connections you were making at the Hotel were going swimmingly. Soon, not yet, but soon, you’d implement the next phase.

Oh, if only Father could see you now - wherever the Hell he was. Did he fall to Hell or was he somehow topside? No. You’d know if he was down here with you. You’d feel it in your bones. Wherever he ended up, you were going to find him and you were going to make him suffer for everything he put you through.

You weren’t just going to kill him - oh, no. He didn’t deserve a quick and clean death. It was going to be slow and torturous. You were going to make him feel every ounce of the pain he put you through and more. You’d take your time, after all; why rush? Hours, days, months, years; what use was putting a timeline to his punishment when it would never make up for what he did? No. You’d take your time pushing him to the edge, and when he was on the cusp of eternal darkness, you’d heal him and start all over again.

Perhaps you did have a flair for murder like the Radio Demon. Your creative outlets were just significantly more specific - lying in wait for the perfect muse.

Wrapping your fingers around the edge of the window pane, you quietly slipped inside. With a snap, your leather gear and cloak slipped into the Void, replaced with a silk pajama set: a tank top and shorts bordering on just too short. Scandalous, but you enjoyed burying yourself beneath layers of blankets while you slept. Any more clothing and you’d wake up sweating.

Going for the bathroom, you turned on the light and paused. In the reflection of your mirror, you saw it: a red box wrapped in black ribbon. Your heart skipped a beat.

Someone had been in your room.

Hesitantly, you made your way before the coffee table and found a card perched atop the neatly wrapped bow.

You leaned in and sniffed the package - Nifty. You were going to have to touch base with the Hotel cleaning lady after breakfast. From day one, you had made it quite clear - to her great disappointment - not to clean your room, let alone enter it. Perhaps you weren’t clear enough, for she felt it acceptable to leave this here as opposed to outside your door.

Doing a circle about the space, you inspected the sealing runes which kept certain individuals out, eyeing the shadows just in case. You had hidden the ancient magic in concealed places, even buying a rug to cover the one at the base of your door, and kept your most important things in your Void. It wasn’t the best place to store your leather and cloak - especially after the moth infestation a few years back - but it was a necessity at the moment.

Then you went for the present. Pulling the black ribbon atop, you jumped back as the box split into fours, revealing a small radio. It was of a classic design and cathedral in shape, carved from mahogany and detailed in yellow and red. The device was simple, with only two buttons: an on-and-off switch and a volume dial. No tuning dial to change the channel? No chord to plug it in?

Fuck. How did he know? You racked your brain trying to figure out when and to whom you talked to regarding your sleepless nights. Rosie knew, but you hadn’t specifically discussed it with her lately. Did you say something to Husk in passing? To Angel while you were bitching at breakfast?

Hesitantly, you turned on the device. A pleasant, smooth jazz echoed through the speaker: Paul Whiteman’s “Sleepy Time Down South.” Hilarious… The Radio Demon has a sense of humor. At least it wasn’t the screams of blood-curdling murder.

After inspecting the radio three times over, you deemed it not a threat - although you kept it far away from your bed as you crawled beneath the sheets. With a snap of your fingers, the bathroom light turned off, plunging you into a cocoon of darkness, enveloped by the lullaby of sweet jazz…

____________________________________________

At some point in the night, you awoke, your mouth parched and throat dry.

🎶 It’s not the pale moon that excites me 🎶

Alastor’s radio switches over to a new song, the music seeming to follow you as you make your way to the kitchen. The hallways were silent, the Hotel Natives snoozing away in the late hours of the night.

🎶 That thrills and delights me 🎶

You pass by the library as a zip of static runs its way down your spine, stopping you in your tracks. Alastor stood before the fireplace, flames roaring in its hearth, casting an eerie glow throughout the room. The demon faces the fire, his attention on the crackle of the logs as they whittled away into ash. He was still dressed in his three piece suit you saw him in only hours ago, his ears pressed flat against his head in irritation. Something was bothering him.

🎶 Oh, no. It’s just the nearness of you 🎶

He pretended not to notice you standing there staring at him from the hallway, but his shadow didn't. It zipped around your feet, twirling about your ankles in greeting, before practically dragging you inside the room. And when it had you well within the confines of the space, it flew to the doors.

🎶 It isn’t your sweet conversation 🎶

The shadow slammed them shut. CLICK! Then locked them.

You were trapped.

🎶 That brings this sensation 🎶

Alastor tilts his head over his shoulder, his half-lidded eyes landing on you. The demon looked royally pissed.

This was it, this was the moment.

Alastor had figured out who you are. Your hood had fallen farther than you thought and he had seen your face and put the pieces together. He knew you were the Shadow, the mysterious new Overlord, here to challenge his grab for Princess Morningstar’s power.

And he was going to kill you for it.

🎶 Oh, no. It’s just the nearness of you 🎶

You didn’t hesitate to summon your blue flames, preparing for a fight, yet he moved faster than your mind could comprehend. Between one blink and the next, Alastor appears before you, his hand wrapping around your throat so tight you choke on the lack of air. Grasping at his arm, you dig your claws into his skin, your demon form summoning, as you melt the red fabric with your flame. But he is unphased by the heat, pulling back and slamming you so hard into the wall that spiderwebs crack across the plaster.

🎶 When you’re in my arms 🎶

You try to summon more flame to burn him down to the very core of his soul like you had done to thousands of Sinners before, but the blue fire does nothing to his skin. It singes the red fabric, turning it black, but his skin beneath is unharmed.

Shit.

🎶 And I feel you so close to me 🎶

The demon leans in, a low growl emanating from his chest, his teeth glinting in the firelight as his eyes hone in on your neck. As the blood pumped through your jugular, you watched his pupils dilate and fixate on the vein. He was a Cannibal, a predator, a killer whittled down to pure instinct. Everything within him was screaming kill, kill, kill.

🎶 All my wildest dreams came true…🎶

Your lungs screamed as you choked out, “Alastor.” It was weak, barely a whisper, but it was enough to draw his gaze from your neck to your eyes. In his pupils, you saw yourself desperate and bordering on losing yourself to the darkness threatening to close in. Despite the fight you felt in your bones you looked terrified.

🎶 I need no soft lights to enchant me 🎶

His name slipping from your mouth, the quiver he saw in your lips, had cracked something within him.

🎶 If you would only grant me 🎶

His grip disappeared, allowing you a breath of air.

🎶 The right to hold you ever so tight 🎶

You bent over, coughing onto the floor, sucking down breaths in gasps that make your eyes water.

🎶And to feel in the night🎶

Standing, you held onto the broken wall, forcing yourself to stay on your feet, despite your knees threatening to collapse beneath you.

“Alastor, what the fuck…” And before you had a chance to finish your question, the demon wraps his claws around your chin and forcefully slams his lips into yours.

🎶The nearness of you🎶

The kiss was anything but soft, anything but patient. The demon was hungry and starving, and only you could satiate his appetite.

His other hand presses your hip back against the wall as he kicks your legs apart, drawing a gasp from your lips. Alastor takes the opportunity to run his tongue across your bottom lip before snaking it into your mouth. His tongue finds yours, prodding, testing, tasting.

He pushes you flush against the wall, his knee pressing higher and higher until it finds the pocket between your thighs, eliciting a gasp that turns into a moan as he pulls you onto him, forcing your clit in line with his leg.

The demon smiles against your lips, finally releasing your chin to grab your waist, his fingers bunching in the thin material of your pajama bottoms. You take the opportunity to find the lapels of his jacket to give you something to grab onto as you arch into him, pulling him closer as you press your breasts into his chest. The demon growls, a deep rumble emanating from within as he bites down on your bottom lip.

Copper floods your mouth, turning the kiss sweet, but for Alastor, it’s a frenzy. He was no longer satisfied with just tasting you. He had to devour you.

The silky material of your pajamas was oh-so thin. No underwear or bra beneath them, you were practically naked as the tips of his claws sank into the meat of your hips, beads of red pebbling on your skin.

God and the pain only added to the pleasure building between your legs, only made your head swim as his lips slid over yours, capturing every drop of scarlet flooding your mouth.

The demon helps guide your hips as you ground your clit into his thigh, wetness seeping into the silky material before pooling onto his pants. The room flooded with the scent of warm vanilla.

This man had you soaked, had your lips dripping as you ground into him faster and faster, your pleasure building with each roll. Alastor finally released your mouth, his teeth finding your neck, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he teased. He ran his tongue along the dip of your collarbone, tracing it to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, before finally running it up to your ear.

You moaned when he took your lobe into his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth. Alastor instinctively rolled his hips, his cock tenting his pants, grinding on nothing but air.

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. The friction wasn’t enough. You needed more. Needed more of him to push yourself over the edge.

“Al…” You breathed into his ear between moans, your fingers trailing down to the twitch in his pants, but stopping when you hit his belt. “Please…” You tugged.

The demon laughed, capturing your groans with his mouth before answering, “No.”

You blinked. “No?”

The demon puts a hard stop to your hips, pausing your grinding and the build in your pleasure. He grabs your hand on his belt and captures two of your fingers in his mouth. Sucking with his lips, he circles your fingertips with his tongue, wetting them before guiding your hand back down to your clit.

“I want to watch,” he smiles against your cheek before he wraps a finger under your chin and brings your face up to his. “Fuck yourself,” he commands.

And you obeyed.

Your two fingers find the apex of your pleasure beneath your shorts, and you moan, wetting your clit with his spit as you circle the bud.

You barely have to touch yourself, you’re already so close.

Alastor does nothing to help, save for his gaze, save for his breath which matched yours. The demon’s eyes glittered with heat and desire as they bore into you. He could feel the pleasure radiating off of you, could feel it as real as you could feel his static on the other side of the bond you formed today.

“Good girl,” he growled, his cock twitching in his pants with each moan that escaped your lips.

“I’m close,” you whined, twirling your fingers faster and faster, feeling the pressure build between your legs.

Alastor dug his claws into your skin, his gaze soaking up every look of pleasure on your face, his ears absorbing every moan, his cock hardening with every swipe of your fingers against yourself.

“Cum for me, darling.” The demon’s lips curled as he swiped the hair from your eyes, sticky with sweat. He wanted to watch as you sent yourself over the edge. He wanted to miss nothing.

And just as you reached your climax...

(Keep scrolling)

...you wake up in bed, your screams of pleasure drawing you from sleep.

Your orgasm spasmed through your body, your legs twitching as you rode the wave, your pussy clenching on nothing but air…

Fuck, it was the best orgasm you had ever had, nevermind that it was your first.

And when it was over and your mind sobered, you realized it was all a dream.

You never woke up for a glass of water.

You never found Alastor in the library.

Grabbing a pillow, you launched it at the radio on the coffee table but missed by a mile. Burying your face in the sheets, you screamed. You screamed until your lungs burned because anything was better than acknowledging the truth.

Anything was better than acknowledging that you just had your very first wet dream, and it was of Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Muahahahaha! Remember it's a slow burn ;)

-> Chapter Six

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

*Plato's Allegory of the Cave

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff

#alastor #alastor shadow #alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel x you #reader insert #smut #Spotify

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ginnsbaker · 4 months

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (13/?)

Part Summary: “I love you, Leigh,” you declare, the words tumbling out almost uncontrollably. Ever since you stepped off that plane and your feet touched back on home ground, you've been aching to say it. Her eyes turn steely, the brief flicker of doubt swallowed up by resolve. “You say that now,” Leigh counters, her laugh dark and hollow. “But I'm not easy. Loving me might just kill you.”

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.900+ | Warnings: Some angst | Author's note: I think there will be just 2-3 more chapters before we close this book. Just fyi!

When you finally stir awake, the room is washed in a soft morning light. Beside you, Leigh is already up, sitting on the edge of the bed in yesterday’s clothes. Her hair is pulled back casually, a few strands hanging loose, looking a bit disheveled but still unintentionally perfect—or perhaps that's just your infatuation speaking in the early morning haze. But you can't help yourself.

“Morning,” you mumble, voice gravelly from sleep, as you try to tame your own bedhead. You're still barely clothed under the thin covers in contrast to Leigh’s state of fully dressed. The realization makes you blush, remembering last night’s affairs. Subconsciously, you pull the covers tighter around your body, a wave of shyness washing over you.

“Hey,” Leigh whispers in return, giving you a small smile.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, feeling a pleasant ache in your inner thighs and back. “What time is it?” you ask, glancing around, trying to determine the time based solely on the sunlight filtering through the windows.

“It's still early,” she says, checking her phone. “But I've been up for a bit.”

You notice the creases in her clothes, evidence of a night spent on your floor. She seems a bit distant this morning, thoughtful, like she's already planning her day.

“You could have woken me,” you say, letting a small, teasing smile play across your lips.

Leigh shakes her head. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you,” she says, her eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. There's a warmth there, but also something you can't quite read.

“But I did make coffee,” she offers, tilting her head toward the kitchen. Her eyes land on the pile of your clothes scattered on the floor, remnants of just a few hours earlier. She clears her throat and her cheeks color a little as she says, “I'll let you get dressed first then.” Without another word, she heads back to the kitchen.

You grab some clothes and quickly dress, and then a thought hits you. Was Leigh watching you sleep? The idea makes you a bit giddy, flipping a fluttery feeling through your stomach. It's strange to think about, but also kind of endearing. Her sticking around this morning feels like a small victory. Being with Leigh felt good, but you weren’t sure what to expect at sunrise.

In the kitchen, you watch Leigh move with an easy familiarity, exploring the cabinets and figuring out where things are stashed. She quickly locates the mugs right above the coffee brewer, grabs two, and sets them down on the counter.

“How do you take yours?” she asks, her hand hovering over the sugar and cream.

You shrug. “Two creams, two sugars?”

Leigh is meticulous, measuring each spoonful of sugar, ensuring there's just the right amount of room for cream. Every small adjustment she makes for your preference makes your heart skip. You’re touched by the simple fact that she cares enough to know and remember exactly how you like it.

You realize, not for the first time, but perhaps the most profoundly, that you’re falling in love with her. You have been for some time now, but this morning it feels like the descent down a rollercoaster—fast, exhilarating, and a little bit terrifying. There's no slowing down or stopping it; you just have to close your eyes and hold on for dear life.

As you both sip your coffee, you find yourself easing into the comfort of small talk, curious about Leigh's return to working at The Beautiful Beast. She mentioned needing to help her mom out, especially after a few recent resignations—a situation you understand all too well from your own experiences with running a business and the never-ending struggles of hiring staff and managing them.

While part of you listens, another part is preoccupied with thoughts of last night. You want to delve into what happened, to ask if she enjoyed herself, and to apologize for not being more assertive. You want to confirm what it means for both of you, but the thought makes your hand tremble slightly around your coffee mug.

Before you can gather your courage, Leigh’s phone vibrates loudly on the table. She checks it and her expression tightens. “I need to go,” she says suddenly, standing up.

You automatically stand up too, but without a clear next move, you find yourself frozen, waiting for something to happen. Both of you are just standing there—Leigh figuring out how to leave, and you, how to say goodbye.

Then, as if deciding for both of you, Leigh steps forward and gives you a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you later,” she says.

“Bye,” you reply, a bit dazed as you watch her grab her things and leave.

You touch your lips, feeling the ghost of Leigh’s quick kiss, an electric zip that lingers like the aftertaste of strong coffee. You’ve seen Leigh in nothing but shadows and moonlight, felt the undeniable press of her bare skin against yours, but the shock of her kiss never dulls. It’s a bit like being struck by lightning—no matter how many times it happens, you never get used to the jolt.

Sara sits confidently across from you, dressed in a black turtleneck and slacks, attire appropriate for a formal interview. Earlier, she mentioned she's finishing her thesis and is interested in a part-time job that can accommodate her academic commitments, which seems ideal. However, the situation is far from perfect. Ideally, hiring someone you once found attractive isn't the best practice, but she's the only applicant who has responded to your job postings so far.

Feeling her eyes fixed on you, you fiddle with the sleeves of your coat while reviewing her résumé. Between you is a history as transient as a wisp of smoke but clear nonetheless. You’d almost ventured into something with her after a lonely night spent swiping through an app you swore off a dozen times before. And with the recent memory of Leigh leaving your apartment still vivid in your mind, you question whether considering Sara for the job is the right decision.

“So?” Sara ventures after you've been quiet for a while. You feel your cheeks warm with a blush, realizing you've been stalling. Forcing yourself, you tear your eyes away from her rather impressive qualifications.

Letting out a sigh, you set down your glasses, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Honestly, this just doesn't feel serious,” you confess. “I keep expecting Suzie to pop out with her phone, recording this whole thing as a prank.”

Sara's laughter spills out, rich and melodious. It’s infectious, and after a while you find yourself chuckling too.

“I promise, I'm serious,” she assures you, still smiling. She leans forward, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Look, our history was brief. We didn’t really date, we just met that one time—”

“Twice,” you interrupt, unable to resist correcting her.

Her smile broadens. “—outside of the app. We can be friends, forget all that other stuff, okay?”

You consider her words, searching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. Finding none, you ask, “And that won’t be weird for you?”

“Not at all,” she replies confidently, her head shaking slightly. “And… if you're alright with just part-time for now?”

“Yeah, I can manage reception on my own some days,” you say. But there's another nagging thought that won't let you go.

Sara quickly catches on to your dithering. “What is it?”

“It's just... aren't you worried this job is a bit beneath you? You're chasing an MBA. Wouldn’t you rather find something more aligned with your degree?” you ask.

She leans back, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “I’ve considered that,” she says slowly, “but right now, the flexibility this job offers is what I need most. And honestly, I believe in what your clinic is doing—it's a good place to be, even if it’s just a stop along the way.”

You smile at that, genuinely touched by her kind words about your establishment and the work you do.

“Alright, then, I just have one more question to, uh, make this official,” you say, shuffling the papers in front of you. “You've got impressive organizational skills and a solid background in customer service. How do you think these will help you in a medical office setting?”

Sara doesn’t hesitate, her answer ready almost before you've finished speaking.

“Are we sure it's okay to leave Sara by herself while we grab lunch?” you ask, a slight frown forming as you think about what might need handling while you're gone.

Suzie gives you a reassuring smile as she slings her purse over her shoulder. “She’ll be fine. It’s usually quiet around this time, and I’ve given her a rundown of the essentials. Plus, she knows she can text me if anything comes up.”

You can't shake off a sliver of worry, knowing how overwhelming the first day can be. “Alright,” you say, still unconvinced but trusting Suzie’s judgment. “Let’s make it quick then.”

The two of you make your way to a charming little café tucked around the corner. It's a snug nook, celebrated for its hearty sandwiches and home-cooked soups. As you walk, the idea of bringing Leigh here bubbles up in your thoughts—she'd appreciate their renowned kale soup, you reckon.

As you line up to order, Suzie nudges your shoulder lightly. “So, not weird at all hiring an old flame?” she teases.

You roll your eyes. “It's strictly professional. And technically, we never really dated. We just… hung out.”

“Yeah, you hung her out to dry.”

“I’m still your boss for the next two weeks,” you remind her jokingly.

Suzie smirks and raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, boss. I'll behave.”

“But seriously, you can't tease me about Sara anymore because, you know…I'm with Leigh now,” you say, looking down at your feet, hiding your grin.

Suzie turns to you, her eyes widening. “Oh. When did this happen?” she asks, her tone noticeably flat. You were expecting her to be more excited about the news.

Your spirits dip a little at Suzie's lackluster reaction. You straighten up and decide to share the brief version of your reunion with Leigh. As you recount the events to Suzie, you keenly watch her reactions, hoping for a clue into her thoughts. You mention forgiving Leigh and how, after forgiveness was exchanged, Leigh kissed you. Throughout your story, Suzie's expression remains unreadably neutral.

When you finish, she finally speaks, “Honestly, I'm happy for you. Just make sure you're both on the same page.”

“She did stay until morning,” you tell Suzie, feeling a need to convince her—and maybe yourself—that this is significant. After all, someone making you coffee in the morning has to mean something, right?

“Okay, that’s definitely a good sign,” she says with cautious optimism. “But have you guys talked about what this all means? Like, are you actually together now or what?”

The reality of her question gradually settles on you after a few moments. “We haven't really defined anything,” you admit.

Suzie heaves a sigh just as it's her turn to order. She picks a dark chocolate frappuccino and a salmon bagel, loaded with extra cream cheese, then drifts off to a corner to wait while you place your order. As you step up to the counter, you realize you’ve lost your appetite. You settle for an Americano and a mixed bowl of fruit to go. When your food and drinks are ready, you both head to a corner booth by the window.

Suzie, picking up on your nervousness, advises, “Just take things slow, okay?”

You murmur a noncommittal, “Mhm,” your thoughts adding, Too late for that. The two of you eat in silence until the chime of a text notification breaks through—from Leigh.

You can feel Suzie’s curious gaze at you while you read Leigh’s text:

[12:33 PM] Leigh: Thanks for last night

You hover over the keypad, unsure how to respond.

You’re welcome?

The pleasure was all mine?

You shake your head, cringing at your own thoughts. Suzie catches your expression and squints at you. “Everything alright?” she asks.

“It’s Leigh,” you mumble, glancing briefly from your phone to meet Suzie’s questioning look.

“What did she say?”

Instead of explaining, you tilt your phone towards Suzie, letting her read the message herself. A few seconds later, a knowing smirk forms on her face.

“She’s playing it safe,” Suzie concludes.

Your phone pings again, making you jump. Almost fumbling it, you quickly check the new message and read it aloud:

[12:34 PM] Leigh: Hey, quick question. What dog shampoo would you recommend? Logan's perfumed smell doesn't really last long.

“She's playing it way too safe,” Suzie remarks, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

Ignoring Suzie, you quickly type back, suggesting a favorite of yours, and include a link to an online store.

[12:35 PM] You: Try this one <link>. It's hypoallergenic and it should keep Logan smelling fresh longer than the others I've tried.

After sending the message, you look up to find Suzie still wearing a small smile.

“What a bunch of modern idiots,” she murmurs, loud enough for you to hear, before taking a hearty sip from her drink.

You and Leigh continue texting about Logan and his needs. She mentions she'll drop by tomorrow to pick up his supplies. You keep to yourself that you're already planning to gather everything and surprise her by dropping it off at her place—an excuse to see her again.

You leave the clinic early, gripping a bouquet of flowers in one hand and Logan’s bag of supplies in the other. Since that lunch with Suzie, you've been introspective and quiet, wrestling with the idea that she might be right about defining your relationship with Leigh. You realize you're already in too deep, weary of assumptions and the uncertainty of not knowing where you stand with her.

Expecting to find Leigh at her mom's fitness studio in the late afternoon, you make your way there.

But she isn't there.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Jules greets you from behind the reception desk. She's busy wiping down the counter and sorting through stacks of folders—membership forms that appear to have accumulated over the past few years.

“Is Leigh around?” you ask, scanning the mostly deserted area. Your eyes sweep past the maintenance staff quietly going about their cleaning, but there’s no sign of Leigh.

You miss the brief flicker of discomfort that crosses Jules's face at the mention of her sister. “Leigh's probably at home,” Jules says evenly, going back to her task. “She takes every Tuesday off.”

While you’re still distracted (and a little disappointed), Jules notices the bouquet you’re holding.

“Are those for her?” she asks.

You give the bouquet of red Chrysanthemums a slight wave, then a bit sheepishly, you nod and confirm, “Yeah.”

“That's sweet, Y/N,” Jules comments, her lips curving slightly.

She seems to expect you to leave since Leigh isn't around, but instead, you take a seat on one of the stools at the reception.

“How are you, by the way?” you ask, flashing a warm smile at her. You lean your arms on the counter and start drumming your fingers, genuinely interested in her response.

“You sure you wanna hang around? Leigh hates waiting for anyone,” she says. Though her words are light, there’s a shadow behind them that yanks your attention.

“Is everything okay? I mean, with you and Leigh?” you ask cautiously. Jules doesn’t speak for a moment too long, and you nearly backtrack, thinking maybe a lighter topic might salvage the awkward silence.

But just as you’re about to pivot, she blurts out, “I moved out recently.”

You gawk at her, surprised by the sudden confession. Jules notices your open-mouthed shock and it almost coaxes a laugh from her. She's somewhat entertained by your astonishment but also touched that you cared enough to ask. Inside, she’s glad she secretly cheered for you over Danny.

“I know, right? Bet you didn't see that coming,” she says with a wry smile.

“Moving out is definitely a big step,” you reply, “but uh, you kind of didn’t really answer my question there.”

Jules chuckles and rounds the counter to sit beside you. “No,” she says flatly, her expression sobering as she sits beside you. “And honestly, I'd rather not hash out my issues with Leigh unless it's with my therapist. Talking about it just feels like letting her win somehow.”

She lets out a deep breath, her gaze drifting away momentarily. “And no, I didn't plan on moving out. I just got tired of being treated like crap by my own family.”

Jules starts picking at the edge of the counter before she looks up. She had mentioned not wanting to discuss it, but somehow, she finds it easy to open up to you.

“I mean, obviously, we're not related by blood,” she continues, “and yeah, it's the 21st century—being adopted shouldn't be a big deal, right? But even though it's common, it doesn't make me feel any more part of the family, any less like an outsider. I feel like an eternal letdown, like I'm always just shy of what they hoped I'd be.”

“What exactly are they hoping for?” you ask softly.

Jules shrugs, her eyes darting away as she wraps her arms around herself protectively. “I don't really know. It's more of an outline than a shape.”

You think about her words for a moment before adding your two cents. “Could it be that maybe some of this pressure is self-imposed? Maybe you're the one filling in the blanks with what you think they expect of you? It's okay just to be yourself, you know. You don't have to be everything to everyone, and that’s perfectly fine,” you say.

Jules nods slowly, her gaze fixed on some distant point. Then, quietly, almost a whisper, she adds, “It's tough, especially with my…you know…past drinking problem. Even though I've been clean for months, it feels like I'm always on trial, always having to prove I’m better now. And when I slip up, even just a little…” her voice falters, “I just... I imagine what they must think of me, if they—”

“If they love you any less for it?” you interject gently.

Her eyes snap back to yours, slightly wet and reddened. Instinctively, you reach out for her hand. Jules grasps it in return, and you give her hand a comforting squeeze.

“I don't really know Leigh in terms of family stuff,” you say, shifting uncomfortably on your stool as you choose your words carefully. “And maybe you've got it right, Jules. But then again, maybe not. See, when we really care about someone, we tend to put them on a pedestal, root for them so hard that sometimes, without even realizing it, we might push them a bit too much.”

You let the thought sit for a while, then continue, your own quandaries weaving into your speech. “Maybe it's best if you talk to Leigh about this... I mean, personally, I need to talk to Leigh about something too. I want to stop assuming things and thinking my perspective is the whole reality. We all do it, don’t we? Set traps for ourselves with our own expectations and assumptions.”

Jules sniffles, manages a faint smile, and discreetly wipes away a tear with her pinkie. Then, unexpectedly, she leans forward and hugs you, her head resting snugly against your cheek. You return the embrace, gently rubbing her back in random circles.

When she steps back, there's a new light of recognition in her eyes.

“You remind me of Matt.”

You're not sure if that's a flattering comparison or not. You did connect with Matt, after all, not because you were opposites that attracted, but because you saw parts of yourself reflected in him—similar interests, similar ways of thinking.

You can’t help but ask, “How so?”

“Matt always played mediator between Leigh and me. Oddly enough, we both really listened to him, took his opinions to heart. He had this wisdom, you know?” She stops for a second, her expression clouding over. “Which really threw me when I found out about some of the... stupid choices he made.” She gestures towards you apologetically, adding, “No offense.”

“None taken,” you assure her quickly with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, Matt was that person in the family who really saw everyone, who tried to knit us all together. I miss him,” Jules says wistfully. She looks past your shoulder, into the distance, as if she's seeing his ghost. You don’t look behind you. You can see his ghost in her eyes clearly.

Jules continues, “And whatever went down with Leigh, I don’t think it was all his fault. Leigh... she can be challenging to love sometimes. Oh god, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, understanding what she means more than she might think. “It's okay, Jules. It's hard, loving people isn't always straightforward or easy. They say love brings out the best in us, but often, it brings out the worst.”

“It’s like I can hear Matt talking, but in a female voice,” Jules jokes, returning to her post. “Anyway, are you and my sister finally going out?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out soon,” you say, gesturing to the bouquet you're holding. You feel a bit forward buying flowers for a girl, especially since you don’t even know what Leigh's favorite flowers are—or if she likes them at all.

Jules gives you a mischievous grin and says, “Well, good luck with that. For what it's worth, I don't think Leigh dumped Danny for nothing. She seems to really like you.”

“Thanks, that means a lot,” you say, feeling a bit more buoyed as you rise from your seat.

With a final nod to Jules, you head out, the bouquet of flowers in hand feeling less silly and more like a talisman as you drive straight to Leigh's house.

You pull into the driveway of the Shaw residence, your hands gripping the steering wheel a tad too tightly. The bouquet of flowers sits next to you, a daunting shade of red against the gray upholstery, and Logan’s supplies are carefully arranged in the backseat. You mentally rehearse your opening line to Leigh, hoping the surprise might soften the ground for the conversation that needs to follow.

You ring the doorbell and wait, shifting from foot to foot, your hand gripping the stem of the flowers a little too tightly while your other arm cradles the box containing Logan’s things. But when the door swings open, it's not Leigh who greets you.

“D-Danny,” you stammer, the subtle smile on your lips completely falling away.

What is he doing here?

Danny looks equally unenthused to see you. “Hey,” he replies, his eyes briefly dropping to the flowers before meeting yours again. “Looking for Leigh?”

Before you can respond, Leigh appears behind him. Her face emerges as she peers at you over his shoulder, his towering height partially obstructing your view of her. She looks utterly surprised to see you at her doorstep, giving you the impression that she wasn't expecting you and maybe you shouldn't be here at all.

“I… I thought of bringing Logan’s supplies now since I’m free, but… yeah, I should probably go—”

“Danny was just leaving,” Leigh announces abruptly.

You find yourself frozen, rooted to the spot as you turn to face her. Danny looks poised to object, but Leigh fixes him with a look. It's enough. His defiance melts into resignation, his shoulders dropping slightly as he exhales a heavy sigh.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “I'll call you later, Leigh.” He stalks off without waiting for a reply.

You’re still looking at the ground, the front door cracked open, a draft passing in between you and Leigh as you stand on her doorstep.

What was Danny doing here? You can't seem to shake it off.

Leigh reaches out and gently touches your elbow, nudging you inside. “Come in,” she murmurs, leading you past the threshold.

Inside, Leigh takes the box of supplies from your hands. She starts sorting through it, tossing a casual “Thanks” over her shoulder as she examines the contents. Her focus is entirely on Logan’s needs until she looks up and spots the bouquet you’re still hanging onto.

Your cheeks flush as her gaze shifts to the flowers. You had fantasized about a dazzling smile breaking across her features at the sight. Instead, Leigh’s expression tightens with skepticism, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regards the bouquet.

“Flowers?” Leigh inquires uncertainly.

It's not the response you'd imagined, and you suddenly find yourself scrambling for an explanation, the bouquet feeling unexpectedly cumbersome in your grasp.

“I, uh, passed by a flower shop,” you start, fiddling with a petal as you concoct a small white lie. “I bought some for myself and figured, since I was coming over with Logan's supplies, maybe you'd like some too.”

You've both seen each other naked just hours ago, yet somehow that doesn't seem to matter now. This doesn't feel any easier than before you slept together.

“They are pretty,” she says, accepting the flowers. She looks around for a moment. “I'll find a vase for these.”

Relieved she's accepted them, you seize the opportunity to change the topic. You're on the verge of asking why Danny was just here, but to your own surprise, a completely different question slips out.

“Where's Logan today?”

“He's with mom,” Leigh says, returning to the living room holding a plain-looking vase. “She’s really bonded with him. Actually, she's out showing him off to some old friends today.”

That coaxes out a small smile from you, imagining Logan charming everyone he meets.

Now the roles reverse and Leigh takes her turn with the questions. “How about you? Weren't we supposed to meet for Logan’s stuff tomorrow?” A beat passes, and she adds, “I wasn’t expecting you.” Her tone isn’t harsh, but it's clear that Leigh isn't fond of surprises. You mentally file that away for future reference.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, the words tumbling out more bluntly than planned. “You left so quickly this morning after... after last night.”

Then, almost without thinking, you find yourself nodding toward the door Danny had exited through, the question spilling out before you can reel it back. “Why was Danny here?” It sounds more accusatory than you intend, and you hurry to cushion it, not wanting to come off as possessive. “I mean, I thought you two were—”

“Broken up?” Leigh fills in the blank sharply. She sets the vase down slowly, then turns to face you, her expression becoming more earnest by the second.

“Yes, we are,” she confirms, crossing her arms lightly over her chest. “Danny came by to pick up some of his things he had left here. It's not... we’re not back together. But if you’re asking why he’s still in my life, then I have news for you, Y/N: we’re friends. And he’s still Matt’s brother.”

You bite your lip, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within you. “I'm just wondering, that's all,” you manage to say, trying not to sound too confrontational or possessive. You’re suddenly aware of how precarious your position is—you’re not really entitled to feel jealous or make demands. After all, Leigh hasn't given you any sort of claim over her; you're not officially anything. You came here hoping maybe that would change, but now you worry you might be messing it all up.

“Of course you can be friends with whoever you want,” you add hastily.

“Exactly,” she says, but then she pauses, scrutinizing you with a curious tilt of her head. “But what about you?” she presses, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, like a predator stalking its prey.

You give her a quizzical look.

“The flowers, showing up without a heads-up... What are you hoping to get out of this?”

As Leigh’s gaze bores into you, probing and skeptical, something inside you snaps. The hurt ricochets through you, searing and unexpected. She was so delicate with you, making you feel all sorts of things while doing wonderful, unspeakable things to your body, and now she’s making you question your own reality.

“I've been falling in love with you, Leigh,” you say, your voice rising without your permission, the words bouncing off the walls with a force that startles even you. “Are you just enormously daft or do you not care at all?”

Silence crashes down like a heavy curtain following your admission.

But Leigh doesn’t flinch from your outburst, nor does she display any signs of distress. She remains eerily still, almost statue-like. Yet, when you look into her eyes, you see it—the unsteadiness there, the only part of her that seems vulnerable to your scrutiny.

Then, she speaks. Just one word, but it's enough to completely deflate you, a response more chilling than if she had simply said she didn't care.

“No.”

“What—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“You don’t love me.”

The certainty with which she says it feels like a door slamming shut, final and resolute, leaving no room for doubts or arguments. Your mouth hangs open, muted by her unequivocal assertion that you don't love her.

You’re gearing up to tell her how wrong she is, to insist that what you feel is real, but she cuts you off with a question that feels like a bucket of ice water.

“When you learned that ‘Nick’ was just Danny all along, that Matt’s brother helped him betray me, what was your first thought?” Leigh's voice is clinical, almost detached.

You feel like you’re missing something, grasping at the air for an answer that will satisfy her. Her gaze traps you, demanding truth, and you realize you can’t escape until you give it to her. What does she want to hear? What is she trying to understand from this?

“My first thought?” you repeat, trying to remember how it made you feel. “I felt sorry for you, Leigh. I couldn’t believe someone so close to you would do that. I felt angry for you, and yeah, I felt really sorry that you had to go through it.”

Leigh's eyes flicker, a subtle shift like a wince. “You pitied me,” she says, her voice cold. “And you also wanted to fuck me. That can be a real killer combo you could mistake for love.”

You stumble back a step, your legs suddenly weak as her words sink in. It's as if she's taken your heart and laid it bare under a harsh light, reducing your feelings to something small and pitiful, far from the love you thought you felt.

Finding the nearest surface to lean on, you press your back against the front door. The temptation to leave, to walk away from this painful confrontation, is strong. But the beautiful, infuriating creature in front of you couldn't be more wrong about you, about love, about how you feel for her. And you’re hell-bent on changing her mind, even if it’s the last thing you do.

“Then why be with me last night?” you challenge, your voice strained. “If you really think that, why even bother?”

Leigh's smile takes on a mocking twist, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Just satisfying your curiosity,” she says. “I wanted to lift the veil for you, help you realize it's nothing more than just guilt and sympathy.”

You shake your head. “I don't believe that. Last night wasn't just curiosity or some misguided sense of duty. It was real, Leigh. And I think you know that too.”

Her eyes remain hard, but just beneath, there's a shimmer—perhaps doubt, or something like it.

“You think you know what love is?�� she whispers, her voice so faint it's almost lost. “You think it's just about feeling sorry for someone and wanting them?”

“No,” you say firmly. “I think it's about seeing someone for who they are, flaws and all, and wanting to be there for them anyway. I think it's about standing by someone even when it's hard, even when they push you away. And Leigh, I see you. I see all of you, and I still want to be here.

“I love you, Leigh,” you declare, the words tumbling out almost uncontrollably. Ever since you stepped off that plane and your feet touched back on home ground, you've been aching to say it.

Her eyes turn steely, the brief flicker of doubt swallowed up by resolve. “You say that now,” Leigh counters, her laugh dark and hollow. “But I'm not easy. Loving me might just kill you.”

“Leigh—”

“Why do you think Matt was found at the bottom of a forty-foot drop?” she nearly screams, her voice fraying at the edges of hysteria. She starts pacing, her movements restless and agitated. “Why do you think he came to you? Why do you think he kept running from me?”

At the mention of her dead husband, everything suddenly makes sense. The walls she’s built, her reluctant heart—it’s not about being mysterious or difficult. It’s about fear, a deep, visceral terror of being the storm that wrecks another life. Leigh isn't just pushing you away out of whimsy or cruelty; she's doing it because she believes it's the only way to prevent history from repeating itself.

“I’m not Matt.”

She stops pacing, her eyes locking onto yours, filled with anger, fear, and something that looks a lot like pain. “No, you’re not Matt. But you don’t get it. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle me. I drove him away, and I’ll drive you away too.”

“You didn’t drive Matt away. He was running from his own demons, not you. And I’m not afraid of you. I’m here because I want to be. Because I—”

Her face crumples, the mask she’s been wearing cracking. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispers. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I know it’s not easy,” you say, closing the distance between you. You feel her radiating every feeling she’s struggling to contain, the ones she’s attempting to shield from you. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for all of it.”

Her eyes well up, tears slipping down her cheeks. But she doesn’t move away. “Why?” she asks, her voice so small and child-like. “Why would you want to stay?”

“Because I love you,” you say simply, “and I’m not afraid of the cost.”

Leigh gives you a look that could freeze fire—like you’ve just spoken the worst of blasphemies.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, cupping her neck gently.

“Like what?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“Like it’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard.”

She attempts to smooth over her expression, trying to regain some semblance of control, but there’s a fleeting moment where she resembles a chastised child. You can't help but smile gently, touched by her unguarded reaction.

“Leigh,” you whisper, taking her hands in yours. “One date. Go out with me. Let me prove it to you. Let me show you why it can be a good thing.”

She lets out a shaky breath, and for the first time, there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She nods, almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough. It’s a start.

“Okay,” she whispers in surrender. “One date.”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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kooksbunnnn · 4 months

Text

Lost cause? 4: Can my happiness ever last?

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook× Female!Reader

Genre: Established relationship/ marriage, angst, heartbreak, makeout and kissing mentions, INFIDELITY. Panic attacks (TRIGGER WARNING). Pregnancy (do not read if this content triggers you) also, 18+, This is purely a work of FICTION please take it as FICTION only. Therapy and psychological conversations. Tears, guilt, regret and hope maybe?

Word counts: 10.1k approx

Summary: You always wondered, how would your life turn out to be if you and Jungkook had a baby? So, when you finally conceive and decide to tell your husband that you are pregnant, you didn't expect him to drop this bomb on you. You never would've thought that the surprise you planned would end up in agonized tears because of the shock your husband brings you.

Authors note: Hello, my lovely readers, or should I call you all my bunnnnys? It sounds cute to me hehe, its a cute little name for my kooksbunnnn family, the readers who wait for me, love me, and read the stories I write. Thank you for waiting so patiently, ily guys. Here's chapter 4, I got a little carried away with words, hence the 10k 👉👈 sorry for the long wait once again, enjoy the chapter now. Bye-bye!

Previous chapter

___________________________________________

Seriously breathe louder Ross

You giggle watching an Instagram reel of a scene from friends where a pregnant Rachel snaps at Ross, who was just standing as you put another grape into your mouth from the container Jungkook packed for you with washed grapes.

As you scroll through the comments on the mentioned reel, you can't help but read some of the comments,

Comment: Rachel has such pretty hair.

True. You always wanted to try her hairstyles.

Comment: people should appreciate how the writers gave every female character a different kind of motherhood and different experiences, and it’s beautiful how they portrayed every feeling. Also, I can't imagine how one of them had a miscarriage in real.

Miscarriage. This word itself makes your body shiver with fear, and you immediately feel your throat get heavy. You shake your head at this and scroll further, not wanting to cry for the 6th time on the same day.

Comment: Being pregnant is a magical experience, sure, but it's a whole ass rollercoaster of emotions, and you won't be ready for the amount of mood swings that come with it.

Yea, No shit.

Comment: I love how Rachel had a character development nobody ever expected.

Mhm. True.

Comment: Can’t believe how they ended up together even after Ross cheated on her.

That got personal, guess it was time to delete Instagram.

Month 6 and a half, day 188 since that night and you’re surprisingly alive. The night your heart got broken and you didn't think you would make it through 2 months of life.

More like, you didn't think you could make it alone, without Jungkook. Technically? Yes, you couldn't live without seeing him or hearing him for the start of your pregnancy and now he is always around you.

Always around. Helping you sit, eat, drink, lie, puke, pee, and all this while being at his respectable distance from you.

“Cut yourself some slack, you're growing someone inside you. It's okay to be dependent while you're going through so much..” that's what your mom said when you asked her about your future and if it was a mistake going through with this.

Looking back to her advice from weeks ago you feel like you are being a little hard on yourself. Therapy. Sonograms. Lamaze classes, doctor appointments, morning-afternoon-evening sickness, hormones, mood swings, and whatnot. You feel excited for your baby to come into the world but would it be wrong if you said you were scared?

When you asked these questions to the people around you these were the answers:

Mom: “Yes honey, of course, it’s okay to be scared. Your life will change, and sometimes you feel like you won't know what you’re doing, but trust me having kids is a tiring but very beautiful experience.”

Dad: “Sweetie, it's completely normal. Your mom used to freak out a lot as well when she had you. We’re here for you, it's all gonna be okay.

Namjoon’s wife, Binna: “I have seen my sister go through it and I am gonna be honest, it is difficult and the delivery is gonna be tough but the results make it all worth it. I am so excited to start my family one day, too!”

Jin’s wife: “It's a little nerve-wracking, to be honest, but it's the best thing Y/N, trust me I have never cried harder than when I saw that my test results were not accurate, I was heartbroken. Trust me, this is the best thing that would happen to you.”

Namjoon, Jin, and Jimin in different words but similar contexts: “I don't know much about how you're feeling right now so I can't say I understand but trust me, I’ll be by your side and our dumb little brother’s side always. We’re a family, Y/N.”

Hobi and Taehyung came together while you and Jungkook were having dinner: We have seen our sisters and relatives go through pregnancy, and it honestly looks so overwhelming. We respect women more every day. We’re here always, just one call away.” They had said with smiles on their faces.

Yoongi: “I am not good with words or comforting people, Y/N, but I just wanna assure you that I am always here. All of us will be there for you both. It's not gonna be easy for you, mentally or body-wise, but never feel alone. You’re our family and always will be, no matter what.” He said, patting you like you were a kid while Jungkook sniffled sitting by your side in your sitting area.

The most common advice everyone gave was: Be easy with yourself, mentally, emotionally, and physically. You’re going through a lot.

And it was true. You and Jungkook have been working on your relationship’s progress ever since your first session, and somehow it was going pretty well. You had dinner together and he made sure he attended the sonography sessions and therapy sessions with you.

You had regular sessions together and Ms. Shin recommended you both try talking about the future ahead. No definite planning, just talking about the options.

Wall paints, cradles, toys, shopping, diaper brands, baby food, everything you could see in the future around your baby. Since the biggest reason for fixing your relationship was because of your baby, you needed to familiarize yourself sitting around talking about the little person gluing you both together.

So you both decided to have dinner together daily and decided to make a pre-baby diary while eating. Yes, it was Jungkook’s idea. It's been 8 days since the last therapy session and you have already listed the paint options for the baby’s room, went maternity clothes shopping with your husband and browsed some cradle options.

All was well, right?

On the outside, yes. In your ovaries? No.

The lingering attraction you so badly tried to avoid for the past week is still lingering in the air around you. You roll your eyes as you feel embarrassment creep up your neck at how dumb you have been behaving around your husband.

You feel emotional, horny and everything at once. Absolutely mental.

♡♡♡

“I don't think I am normal anymore.”

The therapist watches you utter the sentence with a manic like chuckle. She must be thinking you're insane. You notice how her hand freezes for a mini second and then continues to pass you the glass filled with water.

“My question, however, Mrs Jeon, was how did your weekend shopping go, but you can still go on. Why would you think such a thought?” Your therapist calmly asks you after waiting for your response to her earlier question for a good minute.

You finally take the glass of water in her hand stretched towards you after muttering a low ‘thankyou’.

After what happened with you and Jungkook and his damn damp hair, you were freaking out. One moment you were feeling like you could cry out of embarrassment but the next moment you wanted to make out with him in the kitchen while he wore his white dress shirt and those grey joggers you always loved.

Okay. You know this is weird, hence the embarrassment. Duh?! Earlier you weren't able to control the urges you felt, the mood swings, the craving, and now?! This fucking arousal.

You made an appointment with your doctor as soon as you woke up the following morning, hoping she would prescribe some pills or any kind of medications to reduce the arousal you felt but it didn’t help you much because there was no way of completely avoiding that.

The doctor didn’t suggest you take the pills that might’ve helped you because you already had a lot of mood swings and anxiety episodes, those pills could’ve worsened them. She makes sense, a lot of sense but only when you thought about it with a cool head.

But at that moment, while she was telling you all that? It's just safe to say you can grit your anger in between your teeth.

Now you were sitting in front of your therapist hoping she would help you reverse the psychology or something which would help you not feel horny for your husband.

‘Your husband who betrayed you and was now trying to make up for what he did which you were okay with and hoping for everything to be better one fucking day ago but now you feel like you wanna kiss him so badly it makes you dizzy’

It was like a mantra, hecheatedhecheatedhecheated, so that you don't pull him in to kiss the shit out of his cute little face.

When you say the same things you thought, your therapist nodded her head noting something down in her notepad. Maybe she thought you were mental.

“Mrs Jeon, I would suggest you control your sexual urges towards your husband by trying to remove yourself from the room he’s in. Considering he doesn’t sleep with you, but if he does-“ but you cut her sentence in the middle by whispering quickly in his defense.

“No-no he doesn't, he sleeps outside in the lobby.” You shake your head not making eye contact, feeling somehow guilty of your husband's daily discomfort.

“And it's completely okay, Mrs. Jeon, to have your space and have some distance. It doesn't make you a bad person.”

Damn, she is good. You need to give her great ratings. You look up at her and watch as she nods her head with a small smile making you feel at ease.

“Did you talk about this issue with Mr. Jeon?” She asks you, and you shake your head slightly. Why do you feel guilty, and what do you feel guilty of most importantly? Nodding to your reaction, she says, “Would you like to discuss why?”

“Would that even change anything?” You say with a huff a second after she finishes her sentence, frustration evident on your face.

Shrugging she says, “It might make things clearer..” her eyes slowly crinkled due to her hair falling in her eyes. Flicking it away she looks at you slightly tilting her head. “Isn't this what you chose, Mrs Jeon? Being honest is what your relationship needs at this point, isn’t it?

Sighing you realize how you might be running away from things, after all, you chose this journey. You both did and somehow you feel you might be turning into an obstacle towards a better family life, yourself.

Turning your head towards the plant in the room’s corner, you speak with a distant voice, “I don't know, All that I have gathered from the problems I have had in my life is that I could win any kind of battle if it were against my mind but if it's my heart I am fighting against? It's a fucking lost cause.”

“What do you think is the reason you would be fighting your heart, Mrs jeon?”

You scoff whipping your head towards her, eyes glistening. Digging your nails before saying what you feel just on the tip of your tongue,

“I love him.”

There's a pause, followed by your therapist humming.

“I love him so much I wanna forgive him and try to make things better but..”

“But..?”

Another pause. A suffocating one.

“I can't seem to do that to myself or my kid. What kind of an example would I be if I give in to something that's not right?!” After you notice how your expressions change into a frustrated scowl in the tiny mirror behind your therapist's head you feel your tears start to fall off.

“I am sorry.” You say sniffling and somehow embarrassed of your feelings taking over you.

“It's okay, Mrs. Jeon, here..” she offered you the tissue kept on her desk, and you wiped your tears chuckling at your situation.

How did your life get to where it was? You have no absolute fucking clue.

♡♡♡

You wince minutely when you reminisce how your last session went with Ms. Shin.

One moment you were crying because you can't forget the night he told you that he cheated on you and one moment you cried because you wanna hug him and then cry into his chest about how your hormones wanted you to kiss him but you can't because then you would cry about how you shouldn't be feeling like this about someone who betrayed you, then again you cry because you can't forget how he betrayed you.

It's like a frustrating cycle. A cycle you wanna throw off of a freaking dam to let it drown and maybe rust when the water starts to break the metal. Maybe that would help break it because there was no way in hell you could succeed in breaking it.

Not to mention how you have to pee every minute of the day and then crave pickles with some honey on them while sitting on the toilet seat.

Sounds tasty, right? Yeah, you shake your head in a quick no too as soon as you step outside and think how pickles would rather taste better with peanut butter on it.

As you deal with your tears and the spasmodic hand stomping on the pillow or table around you to let go of the kissy-kissy thoughts in your head, your husband stays clueless.

Not clueless about the hormones, na-ah.

Just the fact that you stare at him before you slap your hand on the table, or thump down the cup on the table too harshly for anyone to not notice. He tried to ask you if you felt okay. But ended up getting yelled at for not leaving you alone.

You once yelled at him for leaving the windows open which you asked to be left open, saying he should’ve known better when to close them.

This looks cute in shows and movies of how cute the mother-to-be looks yelling at a clueless husband but you on the other hand feel bad for making him feel actually at fault when he has been trying his best to make you feel comfortable.

What does he do after getting yelled at? He apologizes, does what you asked or yelled at him to do, and leaves. He still comes back and eats the dinner your mother made with you and your dad helping her out.

You feel terrible for how you are behaving around him, the worst part being that he takes everything you do and say to him without even reacting ever so slightly. You tried living life with him normally but you can’t forget the thought that lingers in the back of your head; that the favorite part of living your life with him was the affection, the touches.

It's frustrating to say the least that you haven't even hugged him in the last few months, you know that there is a reason behind the distance but since your mind tells you to create boundaries and try things again, your heart doesn’t understand how someone could try to make things better from a distance. Especially you and Jungkook.

He did everything according to how you needed without you telling him. Your childhood therapist once told you no matter how perfect a person tried to be there are certain situations where you can’t control the things the universe decides for you. She said that when you were having trouble accepting that you were the reason one of your ex-best friends changed schools, stating that you made her feel insecure. You had no idea.

So you accepted your fate, then and now as well. Doing things as they go in the flow. You had a discussion with your parents about how you are supposed to be having dinner with Jungkook as advised by your therapist so your mom and dad eat their dinner by 7 o’clock as advised by their doctors while you accompany them by having your soup or tea.

They thought it was a good idea so you agreed to do it.

By 9 o’clock or quarter to 9 Jungkook enters and you have your dinner and the discussion you are supposed to have about the baby.

It has been 15 minutes since your mom and dad went to their room after insisting on sitting with you while you wait for Jungkook to be back. You have your phone in your hand which starts to buzz with Jungkook’s name on the screen with the bunny emoji.

Picking up with a smile you answer to his voice.

God, you missed him.

Yep, you said it.

Picking up he seems like he is on the way and is trying to get his phone back from someone. “Hyung give me my phone back, hold his hands Yoongi hyung, hey-!” yes he was snatching his phone back.

You can hear a bunch of yelling noises in the background and you recognize the screaming voice immediately, Jimin. You shake your head at the chaos and smile putting a grape in your mouth.

“Hey, Y/N I am sorry I am a little late, I just wanted to ask if it's okay with me to bring Jimin and Yoongi Hyung over to your parent's house we have a bit of a situation on our hands.”

“Yeah, of course, kook, it's okay. Is everything okay though?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“What did you call me?”

Your eyes widen at how you didn't even realize how normal this felt to you. You haven't called him Kook ever since you cried in his car after your first therapy session, always walking on eggshells.

“Y/N?”

Courage. Squeezing your fist and eyes shut you say,

“I called you k-kook. Is that not okay?”

Your leg starts to shake not knowing what to say next.

“No! Fuck, I mean it's more than okay. You know what? Let's not talk about it I don't wanna jinx it.” You can hear him smile and you can't help but widen your smile. It has been so long since you smiled this wide and you somehow feel better.

You repeat the words in your head, Don't feel guilty Y/N, go with it. Go with the flow. Cut yourself some slack. You’re going through a lot, be easy on yourself.

You smile and hear him chuckle before-

“Oh, no hyung not in my car ugh, we’ll be there in 5 minutes Y/N, I’ll reheat the food when I get there don't worry. Yoongi Hyung push his head out the window please-” And he hangs up.

Smiling at the chaotic phone call, you get up to check on your mom and dad if they are still up, wanting to tell them about the guests coming over. But since they were soundly asleep with the nightlights on, you switch them off, regulate the fan's speed, and take the phone from your sleeping-snoring mom’s hand plugging it to the charger and checking if they had water around them.

After checking up on your parents you close the door to their room and walk towards the kitchen to drink some water. Even the small activities could make a pregnant lady tired and the jug in your room was empty so you walked slowly towards the fridge. The pain getting better but still evident in your lower back which makes you put a hand on your back while you open the refrigerator.

Suddenly you spot a Harley bike model Jungkook gifted your father when he came home to meet your parents for the first time. Your father was really happy seeing the model, him being a Harley fan. If age didn't play a role in life your father would've still been traveling with your mom like those couples you saw in uni.

You remember how you and Jungkook loved to travel on his bike, you holding onto him as if your life depended on it, hair flowing from under the helmet and him accelerating the bike through the streets, hills, and empty roads leading to the cabin the whole group planned to visit during his and Namjoon’s collective birthday celebration.

Damn, you were so in love. Still are, and will probably always be.

The group has always been there for you, they're like the family you never knew you needed until they came into your life. The chaos was a part of your life, the screams, the teasing, the weekend game nights, the celebrations, movie nights which turned into everybody and their girlfriends crashing in the lobby on the mattresses Jungkook bought for the night stays.

You remember what the situation was when you met him for the first time six years ago.

♡♡♡

“Damnit Tae, jump outta here.” You argue with Taehyung as the three of you look out the window of your room.

“Fuck no. Are you mental? I’ll die if I jump out of here.” Taehyung says whisper yelling at your roommate, Aera, who rolls her eyes at her dramatic “friend” panicking with wide eyes.

“No, you won't, don’t be dramatic.” You scoff as you push him slightly in the windows direction.

“It's a whole ass floor Y/N, the fuck is wrong with you?” He scowls at you as he regains balance panicking.

“Maybe we should call Jungkook.”

“Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook with that loud-ass bike? Nice. Sneaking a boy out of our room with the help of another boy. Fan-fucking-tastic, Taehyung.” You clap two times with a straight face.

“Guys,” your friend giggles as she tries to focus on the main topic in the room, while Taehyung goes back to sit on your roommate’s bed.

“I think he is right, Y/N, we could at least get help from JK.”

“Mhm, help in getting kicked out.” You mumble not so quietly earning yourself a middle finger from Taehyung and an eyeroll from Aera.

“Fine, do whatever you want.” You say rolling your eyes.

The thing was you were only partly nervous because of your forced eviction but also because you had never met Jungkook, the campus crush. More like the crush of every girl who saw him on his bike. You were not one of them, at least you wouldn't admit that but you wouldn't deny that he was a pretty face to look at and a very hot piece of ass to stare at. The proportions of that man were totally insane.

Tiny waist, big- biteable chest, broad shoulders, thick thighs, luscious hair locks, biceps people could hang on, the all-black outfit, and the very contrasting facial features. If he wore a helmet people wouldn't imagine how the guy had big doe boba eyes and a cute mole under his lips, skin better than half of the girls who spent so much on products. He always had that glint in his eyes making him seem so innocent, innocent but with a physique that can crush people.

You never talked to him so you don't know how he sounds or if he is a rude person. You just know he is Taehyung’s friend whom he hangs out with around the campus.

While you thought about how Jungkook might or might not be your crush, Taehyung called him and you all got up to sneak him out of the house.

“Wait you don't need to come if you don't want to Y/N,” Aera said after looking around the hallways and telling Taehyung to tiptoe downstairs since her aunt’s room was on the same floor as yours.

“H-Huh? N-no I wanna go as well. So that if she wakes up I can tell her we both went out to get some fresh air while the guys ran away y-you know? “

You said. Terrible at lying. You wanted to see the man coming to save his friend.

Your friend was in a hurry sneaking her fuck buddy out so she didn't pay attention to what you said and how you said it. A total stuttering mess.

Walking out of the house you never imagined him to be so..so..so tasty. Thats the only words that come to your mind. He parked his bike at a safe distance because of how much noise it made and approached you guys.

The image in your hand was like the 480p version of how beautiful and ethereal he was but in reality, he had tattoos. Tattoos! Not even a small one, a whole arm that stretched inside his white sleeveless tee.

You thanked the cloth gods for making this particular article of clothing because you needed to see how hot men you would want to eat up looked in it.

“Told you, you would need my help.” He smirks as Taehyung walks past him only turning around to come back and give Aera a quick kiss and then running away again, making her blush.

“Run dumbass, their landlord would skewer us on her cane,” Taehyung says and you chuckle at how exaggerated he made Aera’s aunt sound. At your chuckle, Jungkook looks at you and you pause mid-laugh when you notice him looking at you.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook.” He extends his hand towards you and you blush not knowing how to respond to his raspy voice.

“Yeah, I know you.” You say staring at him with heat on your cheeks and immediately kick yourself mentally.

You sound like a fucking creep. I know you? seriously?

He smiles, “..and you are..?

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to be rude I’m Y/N, Hi heh.” You extend your hand to shake his and he whispers your name under his breath eyes still looking into yours.

“Hi Y/N, you’re very pretty.” While he rubs his thumb on your already heating skin making it burst into flames as he rubs it again.

“Kook!” Taehyung yells and you break the eye contact, taking your hand back.

“It's okay don't be sorry, I didn't find you rude rather, I found you cute.” He says as you look at him again. You think it was an imagination of your beauty-struck head or maybe it was due to dark but..did he just check you out?

You give him a confused look at what he said, making him chuckle. He sounds so deliciously hot and raspy. God.

“That you know who I am, considering how you’re always in the art studio. I found it cute.” He says with a smile leaning slightly towards your face and you lean back at the same time he leans in. He stays towering over you and maybe notices your expressions. You just hope he didn't notice how red your cheeks might be.

Does he know about the art studio? Only people close to you knew about it.

Seeing your wide eyes, he straightens up to his original height and chuckles. He sounds so good, it reaches inside you and you knew that you were fucked.

“Kook?” You didn't even notice when Taehyung came back to drag his friend back. Slapping his shoulder and then sprinting towards the bike again.

“Kook, let's go. She switched on some kind of light in her room oh god. She’ll beat your and my asses collectively.” Taehyung yells waving his friends over.

“Hey we’re gonna be in the beat party as well, Y/N lets go,” Aera speaks from the driveway of her aunt's house, slowly retrieving her steps.

But you were stuck. Stuck on how his bunny teeth played with the piercing on his lips. Not being able to bear eye contact with him, you flicked your eyes away.

When Taehyung yelled again from a distance, Jungkook responded with a ‘yea yea coming’ while stepping backward with his white sleeveless tee sticking to his body.

Generally, you didn't like summers but you were so glad it was hot enough that he decided to wear a sleeveless outfit, for you to ogle his tattoos.

Taehyung and Aera were already away from the both of you, Taehyung at a safer distance from the house and Aera still waiting for you at the house hoping her aunt just woke up for her nightly washroom trips and didn't see you guys with these beautiful men.

With a smile on his face, he stepped back facing you. Clicking his tongue twice to get your attention, you looked at him to immediately regret locking eyes with him. He winked at you and said, “See you around, sweetheart.”

You swear you saw his eyes flitting to your lips and then to your skirt that was flowing with the slight wind in the surroundings before he turned around and ran towards his panicking friend.

You knew he was casually flirting and was out of your league. And since you didn't believe your luck would suddenly turn out to be on your side you didn't think of his wink as something more than something casual.

But goddamnit, the crush you never admitted to, was finally admitted in your heart.

♡♡♡

You smile as you pick the model in your hand at the fond memories of how you tried so hard to remain just friends with the guy even though he hung out with you daily, accompanied you in your art studio confirming he knew about you before meeting you. You never knew your friendship could be more than what it was but maybe growing up and getting jobs made you want to prioritize yourself and your wants, so you decided to tell him how you felt but he beat you to it three days before you planned on confessing.

“Sorry sweetheart, wanted to kiss you as my girlfriend on Valentine's Day without the fear of rejection in the back of my brain.” That's what he said before he kissed the living daylights out of you on the gazebo at your favorite park.

You smile remembering how he took you to the park saying the cherry blossoms were blooming early that year, you believed him nodding with excitement and you went along with him running and holding hands. Reaching there you were sad that no blossoms were blooming but then he gave you the promise ring he ordered from the vintage store you loved so much. You knew it cost him a lot but when you asked him about it he just chuckled deeply avoiding that question and before you could pick that topic again he kneeled on one knee and asked you to be his girlfriend officially.

You smile at the memories and keep the bike model back on the shelf, the flashback coming to a halt as you come back to the living room when your phone buzzes with your husband's name on it.

He didn't ring the doorbell nowadays to be cautious in case your parents were asleep. So you went to the door and opened it already expecting Jimin leaning on Jungkook’s shoulders while Yoongi just snickered at his younger brother, seeming unconscious but Jimin was very much awake, also very very drunk as he clung to Yoongi telling him everything was going to be okay. Jungkook held three bags as he gave you a sheepish smile at his Hyungs’ behavior.

“Yes, Yes, Jimin. It's gonna be okay.” Yoongi held Jimin very firmly while giving you a small smile before asking where to put him so that he could blubber nonsense somewhere your neighbors wouldn't hear.

Jungkook chuckles and leads them to the guest room while muttering a ‘hi’, looking at you from head to toe as if checking if you had any injuries.

“Hi,” you whisper, enough for him to catch your voice.

“How was your day?” You ask trying to take the bags from his hand but he tilts his body giving you a look that says ‘Really?’.

Sighing with a smile, you close the door and follow him inside.

“It was good- Oh shit the guest room door is locked. Wait hyung let me get the key” he put the bags on the counter while a grunting Yoongi held a wobbly Jimin in his hands.

“Wow realized it so soon,” Yoongi says sarcastically l as Jimin looks at you with a smile on his face. Gasping dramatically, he removes himself from his brother's shoulders and comes towards you, slightly tilted, but he somehow reaches you.

“I can see your baby.” Your eyes widen at what he said and you scoff a laugh as Jimin kneels down in front of your belly.

“He means you’re showing, and he is noticing that now, only, he sounds creepy as fuck.” Yoongi walks back to the sofa and sits down with a long sigh.

“May I please?” He says as hovers his hands over your belly with big puppy eyes and you chuckle at how patiently he wants you to answer.

“Yes, Jimin you may.” You say with a laugh and he whispers to your tummy hovering his hand above it like it's a crystal ball.

“Hi tiny person, I am Jimin, your godfather..” he giggles at the end of his sentence while you hear Yoongi chuckle from the couch.

“The fuck? When did we decide that hyung?” Jungkook stands next to you with keys hanging from his fingers, narrowed gaze focused on his elder brother.

“Shhhhhh” Jimin shushes Jungkook loudly almost spitting on your belly. You laugh as he looks pointedly at Jungkook.

“You don’t get to decide that. Dumbass.” Jimin slurs out and tries to get up grabbing the trousers Jungkook wore, almost making him fall over with his weight.

“Hyung, fuck you’re heavy when drunk.”

“I fucking know right? I don’t know how that happens..” Yoongi mumbles typing something on his phone, stretching his neck sideways to pop the strained muscle.

Jungkook stumbles while you also try to help him balance Jimin by bending slightly to keep a hand on his shoulders, but then you remove it as Jungkook whispers ‘I got him I got him’ assuringly not wanting you to take any strain.

Smiling to yourself you walk over to the couch adjacent to where Yoongi was sitting, asking if he needed water or anything like that.

“Nah I’m good. Thanks.” He waves his hand as he keeps his phone aside watching how Jungkook manages to drag Jimin back.

“...You’ll look good in a tutu as well..” Jimin says to Jungkook poking a finger to his sides continuously. “You know a white one with stars on it, I’ll gift it to the baby so that you can match your outfits then” Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance as Jimin’s voice fades into the guest room Jungkook opens for him to sleep in.

“Let me go check up on him yeah?” Yoongi says softly getting up from the couch, picking up a banana on the way to the guest room. Raising one of his brows and the fruit in the air as if asking for permission to eat it. You tilt your head with narrowed eyes passing on the message, ‘You have to ask?’

He smiles slightly shrugging and heads towards the guest room while pealing the banana.

“Jungkook, is he under control now or still wobbly- oh, fuck no-“ Yoongi asks from outside of the room but then pauses in his tracks as you hear Jungkook whine slightly out of disgust and you immediately get up feeling a slight ache in your lower back due to the hurry.

“Is everything okay?” You ask concern evident in your eyes.

Yoongi chuckles and moves away from the door, shaking his head. “Not gonna eat this now, sorry, Y/N.” He says, still laughing.

“Oh no did he-“Before you could say something Jungkook stomps his way out of the guest room and you immediately feel nausea entering you seeing your husband's sleeve covered in vomit.

“Hyung could you please help me heat the food? I’m gonna go take a shower, sorry hyungie just please-“ he continues walking towards the common bathroom at the end of the hall.

“Sure” Yoongi chuckles moving towards the fridge.

“I’ll help you..” you take a step towards the crockery cupboard.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll do it, you sit.” He says pausing you midway.

“No Yoongi lemme help..” you say but he just points the small spoon towards the island chair.

“It's okay Y/N I’ll do it.” He says nodding while opening the Tupperware filled with the various side dishes and the tofu-miso stew.

“I just don't wanna trouble you Yoongi, thanks though.” You say giving up on offering help as he heats the food one by one in the microwave.

“Oh it's not for free, I am taking the godfather’s title in exchange for this.” He smirks glancing at the room Jimin slept in.

“Yeah okay, try beating Jimin for the title. You chuckle looking in the same direction for a second and then at the man heating up the food. While he just gives you a small laugh while warming up the rice in the cooker, mumbling, “We’ll see who wins.”

You smile and pat your feet on the ground in a rhythm as Yoongi places the food on the kitchen island. You feel guilty for making him do this but he has already rejected your help three times so there was no point in arguing over it.

“Y/N?” Yoongi whispers looking at a plate in his hand.

“Yea?”

“I know it's none of my business and I should not even say something about this but can I just say it's really nice that you’re trying again?” He says lifting his head to look at your reaction to what he said.

You feel yourself freeze, this is the first time you had a conversation about your situation with Jungkook, the cheating, and the decision to try again. You sure talked about the pregnancy and yes there was always that lingering awkwardness in the air but this was new.

“Yea..” you sigh looking at your lap for a second and then lifting your head to give him a soft smile.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to get a chance to revive their relationship.” He says still looking at the plate while tracing the pattern on it with his index finger.

You know that his relationship ended badly, you knew how much he loved his girlfriend, you know he acts like it's okay but his dark circles tell another story, you know he looks thin and exhausted all the time but acts like it's nothing.

You know it's not nothing.

“Yoongi, I am sorry about-“But before you could finish your sentence he laughs almost in pain.

“It's okay Y/N, it's done, she is gone. She is happy without me and I can't change that.” He says and you feel your heart break at how small he sounds.

“It sucks but it's true.” He says softly, half to you half to himself, still trying to process his grief over the relationship he lost. After an uncomfortable pause, he continues.

“I saw him Y/N,” he points his chin in the direction of the washroom Jungkook was taking a shower in when you look at him confused at the change of topic.

“..and don't think I am taking his side 'cause he is like a brother to me but I say this honestly, he was devastated while he was away from you.” You just stare at him with eyes round and wide not expecting this conversation to go this way.

“He forgot to eat and sleep, just kept asking Jin Hyung and me if we saw you or if any other of guys saw you.” He says while you look at him nervously talking about the topic, picking his nails.

“Do you remember the time you were at the hospital due to your abdominal pain?” You nod at his question feeling your throat tighten up uncomfortably so you divert your gaze down at the plate with little blue flowers printed on the ceramic.

“He ran to the hospital since his car was still parked at your previous address.” Your eyes widen and you whip your head toward the man standing in front of you.

What does he mean he ran?

“What?” You whisper.

“Taehyung had a night shift and he was alone at the apartment. I tried to tell him to wait for me to pick him up when he called to ask if Taehyung left office or not, but he just hung up saying it would take too long.”

“So he ran to you.” You feel your throat tighten as humanly possible, eyes burning.

Wasn’t Taehyung’s house almost double times the way compared to your route connecting your house to the hospital? You can't even comprehend how he felt when you didn't even talk to him that day.

Shouldn’t you feel like he deserved to feel like that? Shouldn't you say that he did that to himself? That was what you should've said right? But your heart thumps harder every second making your eyes spill the tears gathering in them.

You remember Jungkook was really out of breath and was also wearing different slippers that day.

“Since it was pretty late, he couldn't even book a cab quickly..” Yoongi looks at you and notices how your gaze is zeroed onto him and immediately understands your expressions.

“Hey, I am not trying to make you feel bad or something like that, what he did and what you guys decided is totally none of my business but I just wanted to tell you that giving a second chance is not easy and I really wish things work out for your relationship. I really appreciate you both working through so much stress you know? I can see what his vision meant when he wanted to quit last month.”

“What?” You whisper

“No no, he doesn't want to quit now, I mean after what you both decided Namjoon talked to Mr. Park and handled it..” when Yoongi doesn’t see you respond to whatever he said he realizes that you look lost.

“You don't know, do you?”

“Don't know what?” You whisper again, heart racing. Why do you feel you're not gonna like what he is gonna say?

There is a pause, a very uncomfortable pause. He visibly scans your face and inhales sharply as if deciding against or in favor of telling you about the whole situation.

You clench your pajama pants into your fists as your hand rests on your lap. The kitchen felt stuffy all of a sudden. This might seem like an overreaction but your body feels defensive all of a sudden, deciding between running away or ripping the bandaid off.

Deciding on the latter you ask,

“Yoongi, please tell me?” You request softly and at your almost inaudible request, Yoongi sighs, giving up. He shuts his eyes for a second and then looks up smiling sadly at you.

You hold your breath.

“Um, he was promoted to be the next VP of the agency, and uh..” he rubs the back of his neck looking away, avoiding the eye contact with you.

“And he rejected it?” You whisper and Yoongi nods, still not looking at you.

“The job required him to give more time into his job, more hours away from home. From you and her.” He looks at you and then points his chin in your tummy’s direction.

“So when they told him the details about the hours and the business trips, he immediately refused. Since he was the most eligible person for the job, the CEO, Mr Park..” he says,

“Mr. Park.” You say at the same time nodding.

“Yes, Mr. Park tried convincing him saying he’ll adjust according to your due date and whatever changes Kook would want to his schedule but this kid..” Yoongi chuckles shaking his head, “..rejected it, saying if he had to quit the job he would do it but he would not add onto whatever hours he was working.”

“Then suddenly..” Yoongi picks up a tangerine from the fruit bowl and starts peeling it.

“He came up with an idea of actually quitting in order to give more time to you and your child, so when Namjoon said and I quote, ‘Y/N is gonna kill you if you do that, she knows how much you worked for this’ Jungkook said that you both decided mutually that rejecting the promotion was okay and you were okay with whatever he decided about his job. Which…looking at you right now doesn't seem like it.” Yoongi looks at you with a hesitant expression, offering you the peeled fruit.

You feel your ears heat up and not out of good reason, you are actually mad at him. You were hearing all of this for the first time and you can't believe he backed off from the job he got offered after working so hard. The reason he used to work his ass off, extra time, no holidays, always punctual, not caring about his meals and whatnot, and then just fucking backed off?

"When was this?" You say gritting your teeth, eyes glistening with angry tears, eyes still on Yoongi.

You take the piece of fruit from his hand and shove it in your mouth, eyes red with tears in them.

“Y/N..”

“Why didn't he tell me? And wait a minute he said it was a mutual decision?! What the hell?”

“Y/N, he must have had a reason for saying so, he did explain the reasons and it sounded like he gave it a lot of thought. “

“Don’t you mean WE gave it a lot of thought? hah.” You say chuckling bitterly, swallowing the fruit, your hand going through your hair in frustration as you face the direction where your husband showers unaware of the angry volcano on the other side of the bathroom door.

“What the hell is wrong with him?!” You almost scream but lower your voice remembering your parents are asleep, immediately looking around warily and Yoongi does the same, with similar expressions on his face.

“Sorry, I just feel so mad right now.” You say squeezing your eyes shut, speaking through your teeth.

“I guess you should talk to him,” he says looking at you softly.

“You’re damn right I will-“ you say

“But not now, privately, okay?”

You look at him breathing heavily, cheeks wet with tears, his eyes pleading to not lose your calm immediately. You look at his anger and countless emotions swirling in your mind, nose flaring.

“Ah, okay fine.” You say throwing your hands in frustration, coming back to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

The next few minutes Yoongi tried not to talk about anything and you just swirled your spoon in the spoon Yoongi served for you. He constantly made sure you were sipping the soup, giving you water, and peeling another tangerine for you.

He almost sighed in relief when the bathroom door clicked open and Jungkook came out of the washroom. The steam rushed out of the white-tiled space along with a drippy Jungkook and a goddamned towel around his waist.

You feel madder now. Is that even a word? You don't care because that's how you feel. Madder.

Remember when you said how your emotions were on a roll these days? Yea. It was an understatement because the moment you saw your husband with that damned towel hanging low on his hips your anger turned into angry horniness, you wished, only for a second, but wished Yoongi wasn't here so that you could straddle the half-naked guy and ask him about the stupid decision he made.

Although Jungkook had immediately rushed into the room to get some clothes on him it was enough to make your ovaries light up on fire. You're mad and horny, two things that don't go well for you. Especially not in this state.

"Hey guys I am sorry, I had to wash off all that puke stench. Why didn't you guys start eating yet?"

"I don't know maybe you took very long to shower." You snap at your husband and he freezes in his tracks to get the plate.

"Y/N, I was there for only 10 mins."

“I don't know, felt like 10 years."aAt your tone Jungkook looks at you concerned and then at Yoongi who watches awkwardly, the whole scene unfolding in front of him.

"Guys you know what I think I am gonna head home, I have eaten with Jimin earlier and need sleep."

“No- yoongi eat please-“ you request feeling guilty for making him awkward.

“Yes hyung, please finish your dinner.” Jungkook says, looking at his hyung but then flicking his gaze back at you.

“No no its really okay.” Yoongi says, already walking away from the island.

"Okay, hyung." He says after a second his eyes wandering back to you observing your sour mood. Eyebrows furrowed with thought while you just chewed on the rice mixed with the curry not looking at Jungkook after waving to Yoongi.

Yoongi walks towards the doorway with slow steps, the footsteps echoing along with the tinkled spoon made inside the curry bowl. He grabs the keys and walks towards the two of you, giving you a nod and patting Jungkook’s back.

"Take care Y/N and you too, kook." He stares two seconds longer at the younger male and then nods at him. Jungkook gets up halfway to which Yoongi waves in a signal for Jungkook to not bother seeing him off.

The door clicks shut leaving you and Jungkook in silence.

"Y/N wha-"

"Eat, Jungkook."

At your stern tone, Jungkook flinches and just resumes eating in silence. Silence for almost 10 minutes. 10 slow and irritating minutes. It was like the clock ticked 10 seconds forward and then 40 seconds backward. The silence added to the awkwardness you both felt, making the time more unbearable.

Again, did you mention slow?

All the thoughts come back to your mind, every emotion holding your neck in a chokehold, everything that you’ve felt since the day started comes back. The conversation with your mom about how she asked you if you wanted to move back in with ever, you thought your mom wanted you to leave so you cried. All the emotions you felt then catching up to you.

The thoughts of being alone with him made you happy and cry at the same time in the afternoon while you finished working on the report your seniors asked you to finish before your leave started. You feel all the emotions you felt while rewatching the notebook in the evening before dinner. You feel all the emotions at once, those emotions which you felt when Jungkook called you from his car and, also when he called you from his office to check if you had your medicine.

The emotions of frustration and anger when Yoongi told you about the job offer and how your husband rejected it. The thoughts about something bad happening to your child come back and make your head dizzy. It's too much at the same time. You're happy that he is eating his food in silence because if he did say anything before you finish, you might actually run to the bathroom to vomit all of your emotions.

After minutes of frustration and anger and sadness and silence, you finally got up and almost threw the plate in the sink, Jungkook tried to get your plate but you just brushed past him huffing finally making Jungkook ask you the question you didn't want to hear and hear at the same time.

You wanted to talk to him about the whole thing and didn't at the same time. You were on an emotional rollercoaster, and Jungkook was gonna be the bird that hit the coaster blades, getting hurt.

"Y/N did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, do you do anything right these days Jungkook? I don't think so." You chuckle throwing the glass of water into the sink thankfully not breaking it.

Turning towards your husband, you immediately regret saying what you said because he just looks like a kicked puppy. Big eyes filled with gloss, nose red, and wobbly chin. His features make you feel like the worst human being on this planet.

"Y/N, I am sorry for whatever it is but can you tell me what's wrong?" He whispers looking- no, pleading with his eyes as you stand like a wall in front of him.

"You tell me, did you do anything to make me feel stupid and pathetic recently?" You say pointedly. Venom. Pure venom.

"Baby.."

"Don’t. Don't call me that." You say firmly.

"Shit- I am sorry Y/N please tell me what happened..wait-" You push yourself away from the counter instantly feeling the pain in your lower back.

“Bab- Y/N wait.” He rushes to your side holding one of your hands and one holding your waist, giving you support but somehow his touch stings, in the best way. You hate your mind and heart. You just hate it.

“No, I can walk myself I am not a toddler.” He doesn't let go of your hand even though you tell him to, he helps you walk towards your room. You try to tell him that you can walk alone but he doesn't listen instead he just hums or mutters 'I know' and it infuriates you more.

Why isn’t he saying anything? You’re literally acting like a spoiled kid right now.

Opening the door he walks you inside the room and helps you sit on the bed. As you take heavy breaths placing a hand on your chest you feel how rapidly your heart raced.

Removing the lid of the glass sitting on your nightstand, he helps you sip some of the liquid. You feel tears in your eyes and when he removes the glass from your lips he just smiles sadly at you and wipes the tears from your face with his thumb.

Leaning into his touch you say, "Why are you okay with me being like this to you?"

Okay, that's a dumb question ask Jeon Y/N, you're mad at him but just looking at him you feel like you are treating him like shit for something he doesn't deserve. Of course, he cheated on you, of course, you want to not love him because of that, and of course, your heart aches when you think of the betrayal but can you ever unlove him? Can you ever hurt him knowing you're gonna hurt him and not feel bad? Can you ever just look at him and feel nothing for him? Can you ever not love him?

Your head feels buzzed and when he speaks and your anger explodes.

"I deserve it, baby." You scrunch his t-shirt in your hand and pull him towards you, making him almost fall on you but he regains his balance by placing one of his hands on the comforter. With wide eyes, he just stares at you and the way your eyes brim with fresh tears. He tilts his head as if feeling guilty for the tears but you don't let him say anything.

"Why?" At this he looks at you confused.

The other tattooed hand finds its way on top of your wrist holding his t-shirt and you feel your sanity fly away for a second but at his confused expression, you feel your anger come back.

"Y/N what-" he sputters with big eyes

"Why did you reject the job offer?" you finally say.

Pin. Drop. Silence.

"What?" he breathes out.

"You think you can make that big of a decision by yourself? " you say sniffling.

"How did you-"

"How did I know? How about, why didn't I know?" You raise your voice slightly, and he shuts the door so that your parents don't get their sleep interrupted, tilting slightly towards the entrance, your bed not being that far from the door.

"Y/N I am sorr-" you cut him off mid sentence.

"Sorry? How many things are gonna be okay just because you apologize Jungkook?! It was your dream, you worked so hard for it.." you say feeling tears spill out of your eyes and when he just looks down at your lap with his lips twisted in a straight line guiltily, you can't help but yell at him a bit, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

You didn't realize when your hand shifted from the t-shirt's neckline to his neck. You realize that only when his eyes shut for a second at the feeling of your hands on his face, the other hand coming to sit on top of the comforter on the other side of your body. Holding onto his face you asked him the question with big teary eyes, wet cheeks, and a wobbly chin.

"Tell me, kook?"

Sighing he answers, "Baby, they wanted me to go away."

"Don't lie to me, Jungkook, please. Yoongi told me they were ready to fix the schedule according to you -"

"And you think they were gonna do that for me forever?" He asks.

"Why did you say that I agreed then? Why did you lie? Why didn't you come talk to me? Do you think I wouldn't have understood or that you think it's not important for me to know?"

"Would you have let me quit if I wanted to?" He asked instantly.

You pause. Dammit.

"You see? That's why I didn't tell you. You're already handling so many responsibilities, I didn't wanna worry you more." He says, eyes turning soft.

You look at him. Eyes looking at him trying to find dishonesty, the thing was, Jungkook doesn't lie. Even after he did what he did, he came out to you truthfully. It hurt but you're where you are because he was honest. It's the bare minimum, honesty, but its rare. At least in your experience. But not with Jungkook. He can't lie.

"They were willing to change my schedule for me only until she is born.." he says looking at your tummy and then lifting his eyes to look at you.

"..I can't risk being away from you again. It might sound like I am lying but Y/N, baby, I don't wanna be away from you even for a single second. I wanna prove myself to be worthy of a second chance. I wanna be worthy of you and her. I can’t imagine my life even for a second without you or her. You can push me all you want, you can yell at me all you want but don't tell me that I should've chosen a job and not my family. I know I don’t have an answer for why I did what.." he pauses gulps and continues.

"...I did, I myself don't know why I did it, and trust me if I could turn back the time I would. But baby..." he puts his hand on yours that is resting on his cheek waiting for a second, barely visible, but he waits for some kind of negative reaction to him touching you. When he senses none, he continues,

"...I love you, and I will love you for my whole life, I will love you and my family until I breathe. I am so sorry for fucking things up but I want to fix them, I can fix them, we will fix it. Just don't please.." he squeezes his eyes shut slightly squeezing your hand as well.

"... don't ask me to go away from you. I can't live away from you. I would quit my job if that's what it takes to be with my family, to take care of my family, to take care of you, and to take care of us. Please tell me I can be with you, can you please tell me you don’t want me to go away? Pleas- “

You tell him exactly that, but not verbally because wasn’t it ironic how he feels sorry for not knowing why he did what he did when you don't even think of any second thoughts before you do what you do, without knowing why.

Lips crashing on his, you shut him up with an answer you feel him absorbing inside him. He freezes when you kiss him, his breath stuttering when you move your lips against him. You squeeze his t-shirt in desperate need, and you feel him flutter his eyelids against your cheekbones, your tears mixing with his, and he kisses you back.

Does it last? Does your happiness last? No.

As soon as he moves his lips, you hear him sniffle and break the kiss. His eyes are still red, and his cheeks are slightly wet as well. He sniffles again, but the only sound you can hear is your heartbreaking because he moves away.

Away from the bed. Away from the comforter. Away from the kiss. Away from you.

He gets up and takes a step back, shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut. He curses under his breath as if regaining his composure while you just stare at the space where he was sitting earlier.

“I- I am sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't, I can't. I am really sorry, I shouldn't. I just shouldn't. I am sorry.”

And he leaves the room, shutting the door, not completely but leaving it slightly ajar. It's just like he does always. You hear the kitchen tap opening. He probably is doing the dishes. You hear everything from outside the door, but you feel like there's radio silence in your room.

A low beep-like sound ringing in your ears, embarrassment? Hurt? Love? Anger? Betrayal? Pain? Need? Desire? You feel so much at once, and you don't know what to do with it. This is getting so much more fucked and somehow you both find new ways to make this way tougher than anyone can imagine.

After some time, you hear the lights outside click off, and you can't help but wish he came to you. He does, but only to keep a fresh glass of water on the nightstand. He wishes you good night in a whisper, glancing once at your face and then,

...leaves.

Well, shit.

___________________________________________

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hugmekenobi · 3 months

Text

S3: The Bad Batch (15)

Chapter Fifteen: The Calvary Has Arrived

Gif by @theworstbatch

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: It all comes down to this final fight on Tantiss

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Chapter Warnings: Limited (Y/N), swearing, canon-typical violence, injury descriptions (blood, cuts, blacking out and bruising, loss of limbs, choking), needles and injections, Hemlock being extra cruel and evil, detailed torture and pain descriptions, mentions of self-sacrifice, begging and heavy angst, reader has a bit of a low moment, death, 'fixing' a death, I alter how the hangar fight goes ever so slightly, the Force and medical supplies suiting my needs, happy endings with nice emotions and light PDA

Word Count: 15.8K (Terribly sorry)

Author's notes: It's here! It's a rollercoaster! And Jen and Brad, we all know how it really went, okay? Happy reading!

Night had fallen by the time Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair had made more progress towards the base but even then, it was slow going. Patrols had increased and Wrecker’s injury was affecting him far more than he would like, they kept needing to stop to attend to it.

“Ow.” Wrecker complained as Hunter stuck him with another med patch.

“Did you think wrestling that creature was a good idea?” Crosshair snarked.

“At the time, yes.” Wrecker replied stubbornly.

“The base is five klicks away. Can you make it?” Hunter offered his hand out to Wrecker to get him back on his feet.

“Ha. Try and stop me.” Wrecker responded as he grasped Hunter’s hand.

Hunter waited a second to make sure the coast was clear before he led the way again.

Hemlock worked on drowning out the persistent blaring alarm as he walked down the corridor. His lack of success with you and Tech should not matter. He had enough to know how this squad operated. He still had everything under control. He stopped in front of the oncoming patrol group. “Guard the vault until the security lockdown is lifted.”

“Dr. Hemlock, one of the insurgents has been captured.” Scorch informed him.

Hemlock followed him down the side corridor towards the cells.

Hemlock opened the prison door to see a familiar face. He massaged the palm of his gloved hand as he entered the room. “Aligning yourself with insurgent clones…” He sighed, “Not a good look, Rampart.”

“You’re surprisingly calm, considering this secure and secret facility has been compromised.” Rampart said with a cool countenance. “I can’t imagine the Emperor will be pleased about that.”

Hemlock wasn’t about to let this failure of a man get under his skin. “All that time you spent on Kamino, yet you learned nothing about how clones think. I knew Clone Force 99 would eventually attempt to recover Omega and their Jedi. Their failure is inevitable.”

“The Jedi, I understand. But all this for the young clone too. I fail to see how she’s of value to you.”

Hemlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, this fool didn’t understand. “What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire, it makes me indispensable. Unlike yourself.” He waltzed out the cell.

“The longer this lockdown continues, the higher the chance you’ll be discovered.” Emerie advised cautiously as Echo kept working through the system. “We need to move. Now.”

“Why can’t I find any record of the vault Omega’s held in? Or this different cell you were talking about.”

“These databanks are heavily encrypted. The vault and the cell are several levels down. Hemlock keeps them under heavy guard, but I can get you inside.”

Echo unplugged and reattached his hand as he faced Emerie. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I was wrong about this place. And-” She inhaled sharply, “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

The sincere way in which she spoke allowed Echo to view her in a new light. He gave her a respectful nod before he donned his trooper helmet and signalled for her to lead the way.

“You want us to do what?” Eva double checked as Omega finished telling them the plan.

“It’s how we’re going to escape.” Omega reminded them.

“But it sounds dangerous.” Sami said worriedly.

“My squad I told you about? They’re here. If we can get out of this room and find them, we can all go home.”

“What about your friend?” Jax asked.

Omega had to push you to the back of her mind, as much as it pained her to do so. “My first objective is to get you all home first.”

Home. The word felt so foreign to them now.

“You really think this will work?” Eva asked softly.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Omega promised. “I’ve been trained for this. Let’s get into position.”

Doing as she said, each of the kids took up a seat at a different table to wait on Sami’s signal that they were clear to start.

Sami looked up at the window to see Dr. Scalder step away which was when she tapped her puzzle piece on the table.

Omega readied her tool as Jax and Eva approached the supervising droid.

“My game is broken.” Eva held the device out to the droid. “Can you fix it?”

Omega snuck up behind the droid and stabbed the droid’s power centre. The three of them manoeuvred it into her cell where she could get to work on reprograming it.

Eva and Jax kept an eye out for Sami’s signal and Eva saw the Pantoran knock over the stack of pieces which only meant one thing, “Dr. Scalder is on her way. Hurry.”

“You’ve done this before, right?” Jax asked as Omega seemed no closer to getting whatever it was that she needed to do to the droid completed.

“Yes, but not on this type of droid.” Omega hissed as she hurriedly worked on the wires in the droid’s main control panel.

Dr. Scalder entered the lab and asked the specimen still at the table, “Where are the others?”

Sami stayed silent and held Bayrn close to her.

“Sp-39, I asked you a question.”

Sami pointed behind Dr. Scalder as she saw the three of them approaching.

“We w-were with the droid.” Eva said quietly, her head hanging in automatic submission.

Dr. Scalder sighed in exasperation. “Another scan wasn’t scheduled. Tell me what you were really doing.”

“Eva’s telling the truth.” Omega said calmy as the droid drew closer to Dr. Scalder. “We were with the droid.”

“Dr. Karr has been too lenient with you all. Return to your alcoves. A few days of isolation should remind you-” That was all she got to say before a needle pierced her skin and she fell unconscious.

“It worked.” Sammi gasped as Bayrn released a few happy babbles.

“You did great.” Omega praised. “Now, we have to hurry. Droid, guard the door. Sami, prep the sling for Bayrn.”

Omega dashed into her room and used her tool to get under the first panel before she could tear the rest down. Turning to the others and seeing that Bayrn was now secure on Jax’s back and Eva had her doll strapped to her, Omega asked, “Ready?”

“Ready.” Jax confirmed.

Omega led them into the walls as part to of their escape was underway.

Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair paused again as another ship passed overhead.

“He’s gonna need another med patch.” Crosshair advised Hunter as he heard Wrecker’s strained grunt and the way he kept bringing his hand to his chest.

“We’re out.” Hunter said regrettably. Seeing Wrecker so hurt was a rare thing and it made the decision to carry on forward to Tantiss that bit harder.

Wrecker got to his feet with a groan. “I- I can make it.”

Hunter and Crosshair shared a concerned look, but they followed in their brother’s insistent footsteps through the jungle yet again.

Emerie led the way to the vault, with Echo walking a few paces behind.

Echo took in the corridor awash with red beams of light. “The kids who are held in here, where’d they come from?”

“The Empire used bounty hunters to retrieve them. Their genetic material was required for certain medical testing. I didn’t know about them until recently. I couldn’t help them. Until now.” Emerie paused by the vault door.

“Well, how do the two of them fit into all this?” Echo asked as he thought about you and Omega. “These kids, are they like-”

“I believe they could be, yes. As for Omega, she’s vital to Hemlock’s main objective for the Emperor. Project Necromancer.”

“And (Y/N)?”

“Hemlock wanted her blood for the same purposes as these children, but he also had ulterior motives that his focus has shifted more towards. He stopped taking her samples a while ago.”

“Shifted to what?” Echo asked warily.

Emerie swallowed, “He wants her to join his operatives. He thinks he can… condition her the same way.”

All of what Emerie said made his blood run cold. “Don’t like the sound of that.”

“Everybody good?” Omega asked to the group behind her as they all squeezed along the path she had found to their destination.

“Bayrn’s getting restless. H- He won’t be quiet for much longer.” Jax warned.

“Don’t worry. Things are about to get very loud anyways.” Omega stopped and peered through the slats in the wall and saw that the Zillo Beast and the number of personnel watching it was still the same as what it had been when she’d first came upon it. “Wait here.” She removed the grate and sneakily clambered out and made her way to where the controls that were keeping the beast contained were situated.

However, just as she reached it and was determining which buttons did what, she heard Bayrn’s wails echo throughout the chamber, and she knew she had to hurry. She sussed out what controls would get her what she needed and when the button lit up and she pulled on the lever, she heard the winning sound of the system powering down.

As the troopers rallied to try to contain the now very awake and active Zillo Beast, she darted back and hid with the others in the wall once more and had the joy of watching her plan come to fruition.

The chaos and destruction that unfolded was something she knew Wrecker would be proud of.

Emerie opened the main vault door but was taken aback by what greeted her. “What’s going on in here?” She inquired as Dr. Scalder was escorted past- groaning and clutching at her head. But what concerned her more was the intense conversation occurring between Dr. Hemlock and Scorch.

“Omega and the specimens have escaped.” Hemlock informed her, rage simmering in his voice. “Due to Dr. Scalder’s incompetence, they exploited a weak point in within the walls. She will be dealt with.”

Just as he said that there was an intense rumble that shook the entire facility and the lights flickered off and on again.

“The Zillo’s loose in the containment level.” Scorch revealed as the information came through his comms.

Whatever was happening had not been what he’d anticipated, clearly, he’d been wise to seek the information from you and Tech, it was just an unfortunate setback that he had been unable to acquire it but no matter, he was still in control. Now that he knew Omega was out, he could go back to what he already knew about their ways. “Shut down the reactor and send a diversion to secure the transport hangar.” Hemlock said sharply. “Check on SP-42, Dr. Karr. Then find Omega. Consider your fate now tied to hers.” He exited the vault.

“SP-42?” Echo murmured, already knowing and fearing the answer.

“Yes.” Emerie confirmed quietly as the other troopers departed. She waited until everyone else left before she spoke to Echo in a louder voice, “I don’t understand. Where could the children have gone?”

Echo may not have understood a lot about the goings on in Tantiss but there was one thing about this that he did know for certain. “Omega. She released the Zillo.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s exactly what I’d do.” He replied with a cheery sense of pride. “She’s splitting their numbers and creating a diversion. Come on.”

The two of them jogged out of the lab and Emerie led the way to you.

Echo followed Emerie as she took another sharp turn down a corridor and then opened a set of doors that led to another small, tight corridor with a door a few metres down.

Emerie rifled through one of the compartments in the walls outside the cell and took out your lightsaber which she clipped to her belt before she grabbed the proper medkit. Then, she grabbed a small set of keys from her person and cautiously opened the door, “(Y/N), it’s Emerie and Echo. We’re here to get you out.”

Echo’s mouth went dry as he saw you for the first time since Teth and he took in the dirtied and blood-stained uniform. It was definitely better that he found you like this instead of Hunter but even then, he was still having to steady his own breathing.

“Emerie, I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but you’re supposed to stick me with the needle before you say things like that.” You croaked through dry and cracked lips as you kept your eyes shut.

Echo took in the mix of fresh and fading bruises on your face and the way your body was racked with exhaustion. Emerie’s prior information did not even come close to accurate- this wasn’t conditioning, it was torture. “You just allowed this to happen?” He questioned angrily as he snatched the key from Emerie and strode over to your slumped form.

“Oh, now that’s good. He almost sounds like him.” You complimented with a weary sigh.

“I didn’t mean to- Hemlock- he was-” She stopped any attempt at defence because no matter what, she’d played a part in this. “I did what I could to help her.”

“Open your eyes and look at me.” Echo implored as he undid your chains and took off his helmet.

“No.” You whimpered. “It’s a trick. It’s always a trick.”

“It’s not a trick.” Echo reassured you as he rested both hands on your shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

“Echo doesn’t have two hands.” You said, aggressively shaking your head as you kept your eyes tightly shut.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.” Echo pleaded. Time wasn’t on his side here and he needed you back with them.

He sounded so real; you couldn’t help yourself. You slowly opened your eyes and took in the familiar face and the eyes that were filled with worry as they looked at you. “Echo?” You whispered; your tone filled with uncertainty.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“You’re here? This is real?” Even though Omega had told you this would happen, you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully believe it.

“It’s real. And the others are on their way.” He confirmed with a small reassuring smile.

You flung your arms around him and as he returned your embrace, you already began to feel more alive than you had since arriving here.

“Come on, we gotta get you on your feet.” Echo supported you as you shakily stood up.

“Where’s- where’s Omega?” You said through gritted teeth as your body protested the movement. You knew she had a plan of her own but with Echo and Emerie here, you had to wonder why she wasn’t with them.

Emerie gave you a round of E-bacta shots to get you closer to the level of fitness they needed you to be.

At the first injection, you automatically flinched away from her and into Echo’s side.

Emerie paused and chastised herself for being so thoughtless. She held up her hands in a pacifying gesture and apologised, “Sorry. It’s just bacta to help you heal quickly.” But she waited for you to give the okay before she went any further.

You regarded her suspiciously and made no moves to allow her to carry on. You were on edge, just waiting for the familiar effects to set in and for this to all come crashing down around you.

Echo felt your body go rigid as you leaned into him. He’d never seen you like this and it unnerved him. He was so used to seeing you remain unphased, no matter what came your way. Whatever torture Hemlock had done to you had left far more than physical marks. “I saw her grab the med supplies. She wants to help.” He reassured you gently.

You glanced at his face but saw honesty and so you nodded to Emerie to continue.

Once you were more relaxed, Echo answered your question. “Omega’s already helped us out. Her plan to release the Zillo Beast has worked very well so far. Their forces are a bit stretched and frantic at the moment.” He informed you proudly.

“Oh, she’s brilliant.” You murmured with affectionate admiration.

Echo nodded in agreement as Emerie finished tending to you.

“Hey, wait a minute, you do have another hand?!” You gawped before wincing as the final injection entered your skin- the pricks were still a painful reminder of what you had endured here.

“Not exactly the time for that.” Echo reminded you.

“We cannot linger here. We need to keep moving.” Emerie agreed hastily as she put the medical supplies away.

You nodded sheepishly. “Yup, you’re right, you’re right. Keep that for later.”

Echo picked up his helmet and put it over his head. “Can you walk?” Echo asked.

You rolled your sore shoulders as you took a steadying breath and nodded. “The bacta is working. Let’s go.” You called on the Force to help you find that extra bit of strength as you all exited the cell.

The three of them stopped again and Crosshair used his binoculars to scan ahead. He saw a squad of troopers with lurca hounds and everything he’d been trying to supress since arriving back here came rushing back. His hand trembled and his breathing came to him in short pants. He couldn’t do this. His brothers couldn’t do this; he wouldn’t let them. “They’ve got heavy patrols guarding the perimeter with lurca hounds.”

“Told you we should’ve brought Batcher.” Wrecker joked feebly, groaning in pain and bracing himself against a tree. He noticed the helmeted looks of concern that were sent his way from both his brothers. “Stop looking at me like that! I��m fine!” He insisted through another groan.

“No, you’re not.” Crosshair disagreed strongly. “Change of plans. You two, head to the communications array and try to contact Rex.” He drew his sniper rifle. “I’ll infiltrate the base myself.”

“Not happening.” Hunter objected.

“Yeah, we’ve handled worse situations than this. Countless-”

“Wake up, Wrecker.” Crosshair snapped. “Clone Force 99 died with Tech.” His voice dropped slightly, “We’re not that squad anymore.”

Wrecker and Hunter reflected on that for a moment and Crosshair was right, they weren’t, it was true. But they’d become something more, hadn’t they? Something that meant far more than just a squad title for a war effort. And Tech, alive or dead, was a part of that too.

“I’ve been inside that mountain. I know what we’re up against. If we all go in, we’re not all making it out.” Crosshair continued. “(Y/N) and Omega need you both. So, I’m doing this alone. It’s- it’s what I deserve.” He said, almost to himself.

Hunter wasn’t going to accept that or even entertain the possibility. “Don’t even think about Plan 99, Crosshair. They need all of us, and so do those clones.” He stood facing his brother, so he knew, even with his helmet on, that he meant every word.

“We’ve always known the risks. And so did Tech.” Wrecker placed a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder.

The sounds of the lurca hounds in distress got their focus back and Hunter looked through his binoculars just as the hounds were running away from their handlers.

“What’s going on?” Wrecker asked.

A deep banging and screaming of dying troopers answered his question as the Zillo Beast emerged from the base with a piercing roar.

Crosshair knew that could only be the result of one of three people. “Whose handiwork?”

“Omega’s.” Hunter and Wrecker said in unison.

“If she’s giving us a way in, let’s not waste it.” Hunter said before setting off towards the base again.

Satisfied that it was safe to emerge, Omega removed the grate and led the way over to the ladder that ran up the entirety of the base.

“You want us to climb up t-that?” Jax asked nervously.

“The Zillo got out this way. So can we.” Omega replied but she saw a familiar but fearful reluctance on Jax’s face. “What’s wrong?” She asked kindly.

“I’m not good with heights.” Jax admitted. “I- I guess I’d make a poor soldier.” He said shamefully.

Omega’s eyes softened. “My brother Wrecker hates heights too. And he’s the strongest soldier I know.” She touched Jax’s shoulder in reassurance, “Just stay focused on what’s ahead, not what’s below.” She waved them all over and led the climb up the ladder.

“The Zillo breached the bay doors and fled to the jungle after wiping out two full divisions of troopers.” Scorch said as he entered the control room. “We need reinforcements.”

Hemlock kept his hands behind his back but clenched his covered hand into a fist. “Send the shuttles after the Zillo.”

“But, sir, without air support, the rogue clones could exploit our weakened defences.”

“Of course they will. Do it.” Hemlock strode out of the control room.

Hemlock entered the training room and powered up the system. Even though he hadn’t wanted to use them just yet, the situation called for it and it was time they had a true test. Even though they’d only come up against you, Hemlock had no doubt that they were ready and could get him the results he needed. He watched with a dark smile as they emerged from their capsules.

He said nothing to them yet, he just motioned for them to follow him out but as he did so, he was interrupted by Scorch again.

“Sir, the Jedi has escaped.” Scorch told Hemlock. “Should I send a squadron to look for her?”

Hemlock massaged his gloved palm harder as he felt that rage flare up again but then a remarkable sense of calm overcame him, and a new idea emerged from the clarity. Perhaps this was the way to go after all. “No need, Commander. Send a squad to accompany the operatives to the hangar bay and when she is found, I want her alive. I want all of Clone Force 99 alive.” He nodded to his soldiers to leave for the hangar.

Now, you all would do the work for him.

All he had to do was wait.

The three of you waited until the corridor was clear before you followed Emerie around the corner and down towards another door.

Emerie slid her datapad into the panel and programmed the door to open, but it only opened a fraction before the system shorted out.

Echo peered through the gap and saw the wreckage ahead. “We’re on the right track. Omega definitely came through here.”

“And went where? How are they getting around unseen?” Emerie asked.

Echo followed up path of chaos up the way. “What’s at the top of this shaft?” He moved out the way so Emerie could look.

“It leads up to one of the transport hangars.”

“Any chance you know a shortcut?” Echo checked.

Emerie nodded and made to leave the area.

You didn’t follow them, instead you puffed out a short breath, “This isn’t going to work.”

Echo and Emerie paused and looked back at you.

“I can’t stay with the two of you. The fact we haven’t been caught yet is incredibly fortunate but the longer I’m with you, the more likely it is that’ll happen. We can’t risk either of you being discovered.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Echo asked.

“You two can go find Omega and those kids, I’ll find Hunter and the others.”

“You don’t know the way.” Emerie pointed out.

“Sure I do.” You motioned through the gap in the door. “Just follow the mess and head straight up, right? I can get there quicker than you can now that I’m free and feeling a lot better.”

“There will be soldiers and you’re not 100%. And there’s no clear way through either.”

“I’m a lot more capable when I’m not bound and tortured.” You argued pointedly.

“It’s still not a viable-”

“Echo…” You tilted your head in his direction. “Please tell her.”

Echo nodded to you and then spoke to Emerie, “She can do it. Plus, you won’t really be able to stop her. There are only two that could, one of them is somewhere in this base and the other is doing his best to get here.”

“He’s right. You’ve helped heal me and I think you’ll find I can be far more stubborn and irritating when I’m not in a permanent state of pain.” You said with a simple shrug.

Emerie sighed but conceded the matter. The debate wouldn’t get them anywhere and, thanks to the bacta, you were on the mend. Plus, you had skills that would aid you in this task. “Very well. You’ll need this.” She handed you your weapon.

You took your lightsaber from her with a nod of thanks.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I should’ve done more to stop him.”

You offered her a slight smile. “Well, you did stop me bleeding out that one time so…”

Emerie wasn’t about to let you let her off the hook so easily. “I should’ve done more.” She repeated seriously.

“You’re doing more now.” You said, dipping your head in acceptance of her words.

Echo rested his left hand on your shoulder. “Be careful.”

You placed your own hand on his upper arm. “You too.” With that, you used the Force to widen the gap in the door and hurried through it.

Echo and Emerie began their more traditional route.

You took in the levels of destruction ahead of you and you had to hand it to both Omega and the Zillo Beast, they definitely didn’t do things by halves.

Calling on the Force, you jumped to the next highest safe point you could reach, and kept that going when you could, climbing quickly when you couldn’t, and the hangar was drawing closer by the minute.

You knew it wouldn’t be long before you saw them again.

But you also knew it would be far from over when you reached them.

Blasters drawn, the three of them had managed to reach the transport hangar and sneak their way in. The entire hangar was decimated, with bits of it’s interior now reduced to piles of scrap metal. Fires were dying all around them.

Just as Hunter was assessing the situation, he dodged the blaster bolt aimed right at his head.

They all took cover behind some scrap metal and looked ahead at the emerging squad of troopers.

“What now?” Wrecker grunted.

Crosshair was the first to peer out and he saw the stormtroopers but that wasn’t what unnerved him. The sight of four operative soldiers standing on a pile of wreckage is what alarmed him. They couldn’t handle this.

“How many?” Wrecker asked as he saw Crosshair press himself back against the scrapheap.

“Too many.”

“W-we can take ‘em.”

Crosshair steadied his shaking hand. “No we can’t. Not in your condition. We need to fall back.”

“Crosshair-” Hunter tried to argue, not trusting that Crosshair was planning.

“Go! I’ll be right behind you.” Crosshair placed a sticky bomb on the end of his rifle and fired it at a fixture hanging over the main area of the transport bay.

As they began their retreat, the troopers starting firing on them and advancing towards them.

They could only be on the defence as they fired back.

You heard blaster fire above you and- breathing hard after the strenuous climb- with one final jump, you reached the ruined transport hangar. Some wreckage blocked your path but you used the Force to push it out your way and the sight that greeted you had your stomach lurching. Troopers were everywhere and, although you had been blindfolded the entire time, you knew the four armoured soldiers making their way through the hordes of soldiers were the operatives Hemlock had pitted you against and were what he wanted you to become. You knew yourself that you still weren’t ready for this type of combat, but you couldn’t do nothing.

You took a revitalising breath as you centred yourself and blocked the lingering pain you were feeling from your mind before you ignited your lightsaber, the shining blue blade giving you that added strength you needed.

With a Force-aided leap, you sailed over the heads of troopers and placed yourself between them and the clones behind you.

For a moment, time stood still.

Hunter stopped falling back as he heard that familiar ignition sound and his head snapped towards the source and his breath caught in his throat as he saw you.

It was you. Standing in a soiled prison uniform but in a wash of blue light that stood out from the ember flames was you.

However, something was off as you blocked the blaster fire and struck down the troopers around you. Your movements weren’t quite as fluid or easy as they typically were. You moved stiffly, almost cautiously, and it was obvious to him that you were hurting. He could only let the worst imaginings take hold of him as he thought about what had happened to you and his blood boiled as anger raged through him.

Hunter got a hold of himself and fired at a trooper that was taking aim for your back.

At the sound of a body dropping next to you, you turned and followed the path the shot took, and sharp gasp left your throat.

Everything else around you slowed down and faded into the background as you caught his helmeted gaze. The paint, like his brother’s, had been stripped from his armour, but it was him. He could wear a hundred disguises, decorate his armour in a hundred different ways and you’d know it was him. You’d know him anywhere.

Time swiftly righted itself swiftly again once Crosshair’s bomb went off, shaking the already weak integrity that remained of the hangar. The entire room trembled.

You cut through the final trooper before you turned off your saber and jumped over the falling ceiling beam. You saw the top of where the hangar bay doors used to be begun to collapse which threatened to block their way out and so you called on the Force and held the structure in place. You could buy them enough time to get out and then you could follow.

But you sensed the oncoming threat a second too late.

One of the larger operatives tackled your waist and you both went sliding along the floor.

Hunter and Wrecker watched as the once steady structure started to fall once more. Clearly, whatever help you were providing was no longer available. Now, the approaching gunship was their main concern.

Hunter shoved Wrecker out of the line of fire but the resulting explosions behind him threw him across the room where he clattered into a heap of wreckage and the knock-on impact from the blast saw more falling pieces land on top of him. Darkness engulfed him.

Crosshair killed the pilot and began to run over to the two of them.

Wrecker dashed over to where his brother had fallen, “Hunter!” He removed the metal and picked him up, but he didn’t get very far before a weighted bolas wrapped around his legs, causing him to trip and drop Hunter.

Crosshair caught up to Wrecker, holstered his sniper rifle, and took the vibroblade from the side of Wrecker’s leg and worked on cutting through the rope but he saw another operative heading straight for him. He wasn’t able to draw his blaster in time. The blow landed and sent him careening backwards.

Wrecker couldn’t do anything to help his brother either. The operative that had tripped him up and hit Crosshair now towered above him and pressed his electrostaff straight into the gash in his chest and the pain was excruciating. His entire body was engulfed by the electric current and he didn’t have the energy to fight against the man above him or the hurt anymore, it all got too much, and he succumbed to the darkness.

Stars danced in front of Crosshair’s eyes as his back hit against another piece of debris and his head snapped back against the metal, but he saw that Wrecker was in trouble and he made himself stay awake as he searched for his weapon which he saw a few metres to his right. But his attempts to grab it were thwarted instantly. Crosshair groaned as a foot stamped down on his wrist before he could reach his blaster.

CX-2 caught the vibrosword from his counterpart before he looked down at the pathetic form beneath him, “You should be more careful with your shooting hand.”

Those were the last words Crosshair registered before he saw the blade descend and he felt a deep, searing pain and his sight went black.

You and the operative that had attacked you had been engaged in a fight all on your own whilst that had all gone down.

The operative had gained the upper hand in the tussle and your lightsaber had escaped your hold in the struggle.

Right now, you were doing your best to stay conscious as the operative straddled your chest and wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing hard.

You powerfully facepalmed the underside of his chin so his neck whipped back, stunning him for a second but it was a much needed second.

With that second, his hold on your neck loosened and you were able to remove his hands from you. You pushed him off you and to the side of your body where, with a ragged breath, you got to your feet.

You stomped down hard on his stomach as he attempted to sit up. With one hand, you used the Force to keep him flat on the ground- his futile struggles spurring you on. With the other hand, you called your lightsaber to your it and activated your blade as you swung it down…

“Stop.”

Your blade hovered over the operative’s chest as you angled your head in the direction of the recognisable voice. Your breathing left you in short, uneven pants as you glared at him.

“Surrender or his head goes next.”

Your mouth went dry as you saw what the operative from Pabu was talking about. Crosshair’s shooting hand had been cut clean off and now the long vibroblade weapon was resting over his neck.

“Put your weapon down, or they all die.”

You scanned for the other two and saw another operative standing over Wrecker with an electrospear pressing down on what appeared to be an open chest wound and Hunter lay limp and unmoving on the ground.

The only reassuring thing about this situation was that they all were still breathing. Unconscious, but still alive. And that’s how you wanted to keep them.

You clenched your jaw and ground out a defeated breath as you disengaged your weapon and released your hold of the soldier beneath you.

Your operative got to his feet and snatched your weapon from you and, with a hard punch to your jaw, took your arms behind your back and held your wrists together in a strong and unnecessarily tight grip.

You were too dazed to do anything to resist it.

They moved you all out and back into Tantiss base.

Omega reached the top of the level that led to the transport hangar. As they’d all drawn nearer, they had heard the sounds of blaster fire, but it had all stopped now. She only hoped that meant Hunter and the others had gotten through.

She headed off for the hangar bay, the children following behind.

Echo and Emerie exited the lift and made for the but both of them slowed as they saw a group of operatives go down the corridor.

There were three soldiers unconscious on hovercrafts.

You were pushed along behind them, your arms held securely behind you by one of the soldiers, a fresh purple bruise on your jaw.

Emerie glanced at Echo and even with the helmet on, she could tell he was worried, “Is that the rest of your squad?” She asked as they all rounded the corner.

“Yeah.” Echo said, his voice low. “Where are they being taken?”

“I don’t know. But Hemlock will keep them well guarded.”

“I can handle that. But we have to find the children first.”

Emerie waited a second in case he wanted to change his mind. She could tell his mind was still with all of you, but he was pushing through for the current objective. “The science hangar is up ahead.”

Omega guided the others into the room and took cover by a crate as they all took in the destruction. Whatever had happened here wasn’t solely due to the Zillo Beast anymore- a firefight had occurred here too.

“Do you see your squad?” Eva whispered to Omega.

“Not yet.”

“Hey! You don’t belong here. Call it in.”

Omega jumped to her feet and started to back away from the two troopers, but two stun blasts shot above her head towards the men. She turned back around to see her rescuer was another stormtrooper.

“Causing chaos, Havoc 5?”

“Echo?” Omega gasped happily.

Echo removed his helmet and smiled, “Hey kid.” He then saw more children come out from behind Omega. “And other kids.”

“The shuttles in bay four are still operational.” Emerie informed him as she came back from checking them out.

“You’re helping us, Dr. Karr?” Eva said in surprise.

“I am. But we must hurry.”

Echo put his helmet back on and he and Emerie led the way to the shuttle at a run.

As they reached the shuttle, Omega paused and looked around her. “Wait. Where are Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair? And (Y/N), we’ve got to free her!”

“We got her out, but we split up and now, they’re all detained together.” Echo told her.

“You mean captured?”

“For now.” Echo turned to Emerie and slotted his blaster under his arm. “Can you fly that shuttle?”

“Yes. Why?”

Echo brought out a datacard and gave it to her. “Take the kids to these coordinates. We’ll meet you there.”

Sami, Jax and Eva all looked at one another anxiously.

“You’re not coming with us?” Jax asked Omega.

“There are more prisoners inside, including my family. I can’t leave without them.” Omega welcomed their group embrace and rubbed Bayrn’s head. “Don’t worry. Emerie’s taking you someplace safe. We’ll meet you there.” The kids let her go and stepped away.

“Here.” Emerie passed her datapad to Omega. “This will help you access all wings of the facility.”

“Look after them.” Omega instructed her sister.

“You have my word.” Emerie promised. She placed her hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Be careful, Omega. And…” Emerie took a short breath before she shared her final bit of what she hoped was useful intel. “And if you can, check out the maintenance closet in the prison level. It isn’t what it says, Hemlock spent almost as much time there as he did with your Jedi friend, and he didn’t tell me why. But he never did anything without a purpose. He’s hiding something there; I just don’t know what.”

‘Tech was more resistant to my methods this time.’ Hemlock’s words echoed in her head, and she couldn’t help it, theories and hope started to stir in her. She nodded to Emerie before she and Echo took off back to the base and back to the rest of you.

“You ready?” Echo asked as the door opened just as the shuttle with Emerie took off and away to safety.

She’d succeeded in her initial objective. Now it was time for the next one. “Let’s complete the mission.”

This was no nightmare.

This was no illusion.

This was no trick.

This was not a figment of your imagination.

You were not under the influence of any injection or serum.

There was no denying what you were hearing and seeing now.

There was no blocking out this type of agony that you were experiencing.

Hunter’s moans and screams of pain as the electricity crackled against his temples and jolted through the rest of his body were real.

It was all horrifyingly, heartbreakingly real.

And no matter how much you struggled against your captor’s hold, you were helpless to do anything but watch and listen.

There was no convincing yourself that it wasn’t happening.

And you knew would do anything to make it stop.

Hemlock studied the room. Your hands were now bound in cuffs in front of your body, but one operative still kept a vice-like grip on your shoulder. Hunter and the others were in their capsules, bound and powerless. Crosshair and Wrecker were still unconscious, and Crosshair’s right wrist was being sealed off by a droid. He ignored you for the moment, your time would come soon, for now, his attention lied with Hunter. He signalled for the machine to be turned off.

Hunter panted heavily as the torture finally stopped. Everything hurt, his limbs burned, his head felt like it was going to explode- and that was just from this. He could still fill a deep soreness in his ribs from the blast in the hangar bay. And right now, it may have stopped but he still felt the current in his veins, so the pain endured. He could barely keep his eyes open. He attempted to free his hands from the binders, but they were too tight. Then, he heard Hemlock’s cool, quiet voice.

“The last time we crossed paths, you had just lost a member of your squad. And it appears history may repeat itself. CT-9904 resisted my conditioning in the past, but I’ve made alterations to my methods. Something your… partner can attest to. If you all survive, you will make fine operatives.”

Hunter followed Hemlock’s gaze to where Wrecker and Crosshair were and the wave of guilt that he felt upon seeing what he’d brought on them made way for new type of hurt to enter the mix. Then his sights found yours and he saw the fear and distress in your eyes at Hemlock’s words. He had rarely seen you look so genuinely terrified and yet whatever else Hemlock was talking about got that from you.

“No!” You shouted as you violently fought against the hand holding you back. You couldn’t bear it if they suffered that fate or had to go through anymore of this.

Hemlock ignored you and approached Hunter. “And if not, well, there’s no shortage of clones to test on next.”

“We’ll survive. But you won’t.” Hunter said with as much strength as he could muster.

Hemlock regarded the clone pitifully and indicated to the operative to start the process once more.

Hunter couldn’t help the anguished shouts that left him as he felt that electric fire deep in his body once more, each nerve felt like it was burning away.

“Stop! Stop hurting him!” You cried out as you pulled against the hand on your shoulder. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You wanted to take his pain away.

Hemlock turned to you and hummed out a pleased laugh as he saw the torment on your face. He had you right where he wanted you. “Do you know I finally figured something out?”

You breathed heavily as Hemlock touched the recent bruise on your jaw but did nothing to stop him in case it made things worse for the rest of them.

“You didn’t succumb to my methods because they weren’t real. I was foolish to think a Jedi such as yourself would be so easily fooled by mind games. You needed the element of doubt removed and look at the results. One glimpse of the real thing and see how you quickly you fall apart.” Hemlock said smugly.

You weren’t looking at the doctor, you were looking past him to at the man you loved with every part of you.

The man who had brought you into a crazy, wonderful family.

The man who had shown you more patience and care than you had ever deserved.

The man who had enabled you to open your heart to everything he had to offer and who had shown you that attachment could be a beautiful thing.

The man who had your heart and soul.

But was now being put through the worst kind of pain he could experience.

And then you looked to the others. To the ones who had welcomed you instantly and who had risked everything for you and Omega and who were now hurting and endangered because of it.

And it was tearing you apart. “Just let them go. Let him go. Stop this, Hemlock, please.” You choked out.

Hemlock nodded again to get the operative controlling the machine to stop. He wanted the clone awake for this.

Hunter gasped in limited relief as the electricity turned off once more. He fought through the pain to keep his eyes open as he saw Hemlock beside you, a cruel yet somehow gleeful smile on the man’s face that worried him in a way he hadn’t experienced before. There was something deeply unsettling about the sight of him standing so close to you like that.

“You know, from our time together, I can see why you would fall for her.” Hemlock commented to the clone. “She showed remarkable durability and resolve. She was quite a challenging subject.”

Hunter clenched and unclenched his hands as he watched Hemlock. It wasn’t just the physical torture that had his body feeling this much pain. After what you’d told him about Christophsis, he’d never wanted you to go through that hell again, but you had. He’d been far too late.

“But of course, such feelings are a weakness, all too easy to exploit. Oh, you should’ve heard her cry out for you, just begging me to end your suffering.” Hemlock pretended to ponder the next decision. “Then again, perhaps you can.” He stood in front of you.

Your blood ran cold as you saw the look in Hemlock’s eyes.

“You wish for his pain to stop?” Hemlock asked you, a wicked and calculated smile on his face.

“Yes.” You said, your voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Beg.”

“No.” Hunter rasped as he heard the demand.

You shoved down the bile that rose in your throat at the thought. “Please.” You breathed.

“Not so resistant now, are you?” Hemlock taunted cruelly. “But I don’t think you mean it.”

“Don’t do it.” Hunter ground out weakly.

But you would. You would do anything. You kept your attention on Hemlock. “I’m begging you, please, please don’t hurt him anymore.”

“More.” Hemlock commanded, enjoying the distraught etched on your face and the pathetic attempts the clone gave at breaking free to stop this.

You didn’t need the pressure on your shoulder that came from the operative by your side. You did it freely. You didn’t care about the humiliation, you only cared about making it end. On your knees, you glanced up at Hemlock, your voice hoarse as you pleaded, “Please. Please stop hurting him. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Hemlock caressed the side of your head. “You know what I want.”

The sight of you begging on your knees for that man caused him more pain than any machine could. Hunter, as weak as he was, still attempted to get out of his prison. You shouldn’t have to do this, not for him.

You did. You knew precisely what he was after, but you automatically shook your head in refusal.

Hemlock simply snapped his fingers.

Hunter tossed his head back and writhed and yelled in pain as the electricity coursed through his body once more.

“No, stop! Please!” You begged. You couldn’t take it anymore.

Hemlock held his hand up and it ceased once more. “Well?”

You swallowed tightly. And it wasn’t just Hunter you wanted to save; you had a family you needed to protect. “I join you, they don’t.” You negotiated quietly, hating the words as they left your mouth.

Hemlock considered the options in his head. Getting a Jedi under his command would be yet another testament to his work and that was worth more to him than these clones. It was a sacrifice he could make. “Join me and I will allow them to remain prisoners here. No conditioning required.”

You knew that was the best you were going to get for them right now. You squeezed your eyes tight as you resigned yourself to what you were about to do and ignored Hunter’s pained and faint protests. “I’ll join you.” You barely got the words out, but you’d said them now. You opened your eyes to that sadistic and twisted grin, the one from your nightmares. The one that he'd wear once he made some kind of monumental breakthrough in his research. And this time, it was warranted. He’d done it. He’d finally broken you.

Another Imperial entered the room. “Doctor, there is an incoming transmission from Governor Tarkin.”

Hemlock signalled back to the operative stood by Hunter’s capsule.

A raw and tormented scream left Hunter’s throat as his senses were overloaded once more.

You rushed to your feet and went to lunge for the doctor, but the operative held you back. “No! You said-”

“Think of it as a reminder of what will happen if you change your mind.” Hemlock said icily as he left the room.

If it weren’t for the bruising grip on your upper arms, you would’ve collapsed to the ground, but you were left with no choice but to stand there and live with what you’d decided and to hear Hunter’s cries.

The lift opened to the prison level and before the troopers on guard had time to react, Echo shot them both. He picked up the loose blasters and he and Omega advanced down the corridor.

More troopers came at them, but Echo easily took care of them whilst Omega slid the datapad into one of the terminals.

“Hey, kid. What’s going on?”

Omega turned to the clone that addressed her from behind his cell door. “We’re breaking out.” With that, she programmed all cell doors to open. “Here.” She tossed the clone a spare blaster she had acquired. “I’ll look for the others.” She told Echo, mentally including the so-called maintenance closet in that statement.

Just as she looked down one corridor, she saw another familiar face. “Nala Se!” She ran over to the Kaminoan.

Nala Se knelt down to the girl’s level. “Omega, why did you come back to this place?”

“I had to, but it’s okay. We’re all getting out this time.” She reassured her old mentor before she carried on past her, anxiously scanning for any sign of you all.

Omega hadn’t seen any of you, but she had found the door Emerie had referred to. She knew perhaps the hope she was feeling in her heart was foolish, but she couldn’t help it, it was who she was. And she’d rather know for sure than spend the rest of her life regretting that she never tried. She held her breath as she opened the door.

Omega’s exhale left her with an indistinguishable surprised and elated sound as she saw the figure.

He may have a supportive brace encasing his entire right leg.

He may be without his goggles.

He may look dishevelled and weary.

But there was no mistaking his face.

This was her brother. The brother she never thought she would see again. The one that had given up everything for them. Yet, somehow, he was standing there before her.

Omega stared at the man that had turned to face her when the door opened. “Tech?” She gasped, scarcely believing it. She needed him to speak, to confirm that she wasn’t seeing things.

Tech’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t dared take Hemlock’s words as the whole truth, but he recognised the child immediately and… and he felt alive again. “Omega?”

Another joyful sound left her throat as happy tears welled in her eyes. She dashed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Did it not work?” Tech whispered as he rested his hands on her back. He recognised the prison uniform. And he didn’t remember a lot since Eriadu, especially with the months spent enduring Hemlock’s manipulations, but he had thought the rail car had gotten away at least.

“No, it- well-” She stopped. “The main thing to know is Crosshair did betray the Empire and he’s back with us. We can catch you up on the rest once we’re out of here.”

The news about his brother made him sigh in relief. They had been without Crosshair for far too long and Hemlock’s lies had been the only moments he had to imagine what having him back would feel like but the happy emotions it brought had all been spoiled and tainted by Hemlock’s cruelty. Now, he could allow himself to feel that happy again and he could be confident in knowing it was true. Then, he remembered the last part of Omega’s statement. “Out of here?” Tech repeated, the very concept had felt like a distant desire for such a long time.

Omega smiled at him, “Come on, Echo is waiting. We’re breaking everyone out.”

Tech released a long, relieved breath, “An excellent idea.” He concurred. He followed her- a slight limp in his gait now- out of the cell that he hadn’t been sure he’d ever leave.

“We gave up hope that anyone was coming to help us.”

Echo held his helmet and addressed the clone that had first spoken to Omega when they’d arrived, “We’ve been looking for this base for a while.”

“Echo, I searched all the cells. They’re not here. But I did find someone else.”

Echo turned at the sound of Omega’s voice but what he saw had his jaw dropping and his helmet fell from his grasp. He said nothing as he walked towards his brother and clasped him close. “I don’t believe it. How- I mean- you called out the plan- we saw you fall.”

Tech hadn’t quite expected the hug, but he welcomed it all the same. It felt good to accept that fighting against Hemlock this time had been worth the pain. This was a truth he could trust. “You forget that my intelligence did not cease to exist after I shot that connection hinge.”

Omega smiled as she heard that loveable cockiness in his voice.

Echo released his brother but kept his eyes on him. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice fuelled with concern.

Tech grew more solemn again. “As much as could be expected. However, I’m afraid to say that I have failed our squad. Hemlock, he wanted information about you all. I resisted when I could but- but his methods were rather… effective at getting the results he wanted.”

Echo had seen what Hemlock’s methods could do so in a short space of time and Tech had been here for months. So, the very fact that he had even held out at all was something to admire. “Don’t worry about that.” Echo reassured him. “All that matters is that you’re alive.”

Tech gave him a grateful bow of his head before he straightened his spine. “I see that I am not the only one with a new look.” He commented lightly, gesturing to his brace and Echo’s mechanical hand.

Echo allowed himself a short chuckle, “Yeah, well, the situation called for it.”

Tech nodded in understanding before he scanned the group of clones around them all. “But where are the others?” Tech asked, fully realising that amongst these newly freed clones, there were four faces that were missing. And the worry that flashed across Echo’s face did nothing to ease his own anxieties.

Giving Tech’s shoulder one final squeeze, he spoke to the rest of the clones surrounding them. “The rest of our squad were grabbed by Hemlock’s operatives. Where else would he take them?”

“Well, they could be in the training room. It’s where Hemlock conditions the clones he deems useful.”

“I think I know where that is.” Omega said, grabbing the datapad. “Follow me.”

“Are you joking?” Rampart shoved past Echo. “The wisest course of action is to leave while we can.”

Echo glared at the man. “Clones don’t leave our brothers behind. And Hemlock’s also got someone who is just as important to us as any other clone.” He moved Rampart out the way and kept his speech for his fellow clones. “Listen, I know you’ve all been through enough. You deserve your freedom. But Omega and I can’t do this alone. Is anyone willing to stand with us?”

The clone that spoke to Omega spoke first, “I will. I’ve got one more fight left in me.”

That spurred others on. Soon more rallying shouts were declared throughout the group.

“Good.” Echo said appreciatively. Then he turned to Tech and took a reluctant breath, “Tech…”

Tech recognised that look but hearing that the rest of you were in danger had his loyal and protective instincts as a member of this squad come rushing back to him. “I want to go with you.” Tech insisted. “They need our help.”

“You’re not 100%. We lost you once, it’s not happening again.” Echo said firmly. “Get the injured to the hangar and secure a shuttle. You can help them there.” He gave Tech a spare blaster. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Very well.” Tech said with a heavy sigh. Deep down, he knew that his current situation made him more of a liability for such a high stakes mission. He needed to recover properly and get back to form and he could start by helping the rest of these clones.

Echo put his helmet on once more. “I’ll trigger an alert in a different wing and reroute their troops. The rest of you, grab any weapon you can.”

Tech led the way with the injured, hoping that this would all come to a better conclusion that Eriadu had.

Before Omega left with Echo and the rest of their team, Nala Se’s voice stopped her.

“Omega, I must not allow my science to remain in the Empire’s hands.” She knelt down and placed a large hand on Omega’s shoulder. “The only way you will be free is if Hemlock is gone and the databanks are destroyed.”

“Then let’s get to the lab.” Omega said determinedly.

“No. Your place is with them.” Nala Se nodded to the clones.

Omega dipped her head in both a farewell and in understanding. “You’ll need this.” She gave Nala Se the datapad and watched her walk away before she joined up with Echo and left the cells.

Rampart watched the scientist go, a fresh plan of his own forming in his head as he made to follow her.

Hemlock walked back to the training room, working on dampening his simmering anger and irritation. The conversation with Tarkin had not been a productive one and now he was faced with having to deal with the lousy Imperial face-to-face.

He had it under control. Tarkin would just be another nuisance he had to deal with.

“The training floor’s two more corridors over.” Omega said to Echo as they eliminated the guards by the hall terminal.

Echo used his scomp to bring up schematics. “The pneumatic tube system runs throughout this base. Think you can use it to get eyes inside that room?” He opened a panel in the walls.

“It worked in the vault.” Omega ran over to the gap and crawled into the narrow space.

“Relay what you see, but stay out of sight until we’re in position.” Echo ordered before she disappeared. He handed her a comm.

“Rodger that.”

Nala Se had taken a grenade from a downed trooper as she made for the lab. She had accepted what her course of action would lead her to.

Covertly following her, Rampart grabbed a blaster from another body.

Nala Se entered the lab but just as she finished bringing up the databank and blood samples, a blaster clicked behind her, and she was staring down an unhappy looking Admiral Rampart. She activated the bomb behind her back, no one was going to stop her from doing what needed to be done. And if she took this Imperial down with her… well, that was an added bonus.

Omega peered out into the room from behind the ceiling grate. All was quiet. You were standing up, your hands in binders with an operative holding on tight to your shoulders, whilst the others were knocked out and in some type of capsule prison. “Echo, I have a visual on them. There’s an operative on guard but I don’t see the others.” She whispered into her comm. “I might be able to free them if you give me a big enough distraction.”

“We’re on our way.”

Echo and his group of clones entered the training room but as soon as they entered, the lights dimmed, the floor lit up in a harsh red light and parts of the floor rose up to form obstacles. They were ambushed by the other operatives in seconds.

You couldn’t understand why the operative holding you suddenly let you go to activate the downstairs area, but the sounds of blaster fire soon told you why.

You hoped Echo’s plan was going to work.

Omega managed to sneak into the room without incident. She caught your eyeline and motioned for you to be quiet as she went over to the main control box. She worked on Wrecker’s first, and she succeeded in removing one of the wrist cuffs. Before she could work on anything else, she felt eyes on her and she let out a fearful gasp as she saw the operative staring at her.

You acted quickly. You ran in front of the operative and saw your lightsaber attached to your belt. You lunged for it but with your hands bound, you were limited in what you could offer and a powerful kick to your chest sent you tumbling to the floor. Winded and gasping for air, you could only watch as Omega’s stun blasts did nothing to stop the advance of the soldier and he took a hold of her arm and dragged her into the centre of the room. You got to your feet just as Hemlock entered the room with the operative from Pabu.

“A glaring weakness in clones is their loyalty to one another.” Hemlock said to the young girl. “Thank you for proving my point.” Then Hemlock beckoned you over to him as you both walked towards the window.

“Now that you’ve joined our ranks, perhaps it is time to see what sort of matters you will have to deal with.” Hemlock said to you. He wouldn’t free you yet, not until he knew for certain that this matter was officially over and dealt with. Your attachment for the clones remained and therefore the margin for error was still too great so for now, you remained in cuffs and his prisoner.

You forced yourself to ignore Omega’s shocked gasp as she heard that.

“Shall we see if they fare better than you did?” Hemlock allowed the firefight to continue for a couple minutes before he pressed the buttons that would introduce his special toxin into the room.

You could only watch on in horror as the clones without helmets started to cough and choke whilst they desperately clutched at their throats before they collapsed to the ground.

“Perhaps an unfair comparison given that I didn’t use this for you but alas, sometimes such things are necessary. You will find that often the most pain gets the quickest results, but with your skills, you will make quick work of things, I am sure.”

“You joined him?” Omega said in dismay.

“I had to.” You croaked, your throat closing up as everything you loved fell apart around you.

Having entertained Rampart and his delusions of Imperial redemption for long enough, Nala Se didn’t fear the blaster bolt that entered her chest and as the light faded from her eyes, she took comfort in the fact that this final act of hers would bring peace to Omega’s life.

Rampart heard the rapid beeping of the grenade that rolled free from her hand as she fell, but before he could do anything, his life left him in a flash of blinding white light.

Having been the only one with the safety of a helmet to resist the gas, Echo was on his own against the three operatives.

He staggered forward as a knife entered the back of his shoulder. His blaster was knocked out his grasp, so he used his mechanical hand to defend against the swings of the sword from the operative that had cut him, and he succeeded in throwing the black-armoured clone against one of the walls, so his helmet came off and he too feel victim to the gas.

However, Echo didn’t have long to recover before he was knocked to the ground but just as he reached for his blaster, it was kicked away, and he glanced up to see another operative pointing a blaster at his head.

Hemlock kept his sights on the scene below. “Their efforts have failed.” Hemlock stated. “Predictably so.”

You were shoved back to stand in the middle of the room with Omega.

Omega glanced at you, but your face was a blank slate. Your posture was slumped and heavy with defeat. You had no fire, no fight in you.

“Sir, there’s been an explosion in the central lab. It’s been destroyed.” Scorch revealed as he entered the training room.

This news snapped you out of your fatigued and defeated state. Hemlock wasn’t untouchable and he knew it. You remembered the nervousness you’d picked up on when he’d first told you they were coming to the base, and you saw the way his body tensed after Scorch’s words. For all his victories and apparent calmness, he knew you were the people that could get to him which was why he’d done everything he could think of to tear you apart. The thoughts sent a surge of strength and resolve through you. What the fuck were you doing? This was your team, your squad, your family. You’d all never stop fighting for each other so why had you? You’d given up so easily and that wasn’t who you were, how could you have lost sight of that? You glanced over to Omega and nodded.

Omega felt hope rise in her chest as she saw the familiar spark and determination in your eyes. She then stole a look behind her to see Wrecker slowly waking up. “You failed too.” She said smugly to Hemlock. “Your data’s gone.” And she wasn’t just talking about the samples, she knew Tech was safe too.

Hemlock whipped his head around to face the two of you. He had what he needed; he could start again. “But I still have you both.”

Picking up on Wrecker’s movements too, you got ready to fight once more. “Hey, Hemlock?” You waited until his eyes arrived on you. “Go to hell.”

Hemlock glowered at you but before he could do anything more, Omega spoke once more.

“And you’re forgetting one thing. We have them.” Omega said proudly.

Chaos erupted.

Wrecker ripped himself free of his capsule and used the portion covering his legs as a shield against the blaster fire before he launched it towards the operatives, the impact of the piece of metal against one of the control towers took down the entire system in the process.

Crosshair and Hunter groggily woke up their confinement also loosened.

Wrecker shakily got to his feet and pushed against the electrospear that the operative shoved towards his chest. He ignored the pain of the electrical current and kept his focus entirely on meeting the soldier strength for strength.

You dashed over to Hunter and rested your bound hands just beside his head “My love, I need you to stand for me.” You murmured with urgency. You placed your hands under his neck and then moved them gently still to his upper back to support him.

Hunter strained to open his eyes as he took in your still slightly blurry form, but he never failed to recognise you or your voice. He nodded and inhaled sharply as he slowly rose with your encouragement.

Whilst you did that, Omega made a break for a loose blaster, but Scorch grabbed her. She struggled against him, but she was forced to stop as Hemlock paired them together with a set of cuffs.

“We’re leaving. Get the Jedi.” Hemlock said to Scorch, passing him a hypodermic with a sedative inside it. He then snatched a blaster from CX-2 as well as the set of controls he kept on his sleeve for his ship. “Deal with them.” He directed the operative before he dragged Omega out,

Scorch came over with as he saw you attempting to aid the clone sergeant to his feet. He speedily stabbed the needle into your thigh and pressed down on the plunger.

You reacted swiftly and slapped his hand away before you landed a kick to his gut, but you felt the broken skin and as you removed the needle from your leg, you saw that the tip of it was wet, and you knew that you hadn’t been fast enough. Some of it had entered your system. A wooziness overcame you and you swayed on your feet as you fought against it.

Scorch recovered from the blow you dealt him and as he saw the unsteady way you stood as well as the lack of clarity behind your eyes, he knew he had done enough to get you compliant. He grabbed your wrist and forced you out of the room as he hurried to catch up with Hemlock.

Seeing that Hemlock was escaping with you both, Wrecker thrust the spear above him and kicked the operative back.

Hunter wearily worked on standing up straight and finding the strength to go after you and Omega.

“Get them back.” Wrecker said to Hunter before he let out a roar and charged at the operative he’d been fighting. He tackled his waist and smashed through the cracked window.

The gas dissipated and Echo glanced up to see the glass of one of the windows had cracked and there were flashes blaster fire. Whatever was happening above him was the disruption he needed.

And that distraction developed as Wrecker came crashing through the window.

In the mayhem, Echo was able to divert the blaster pointed at his head to the second operative standing behind him and take cover. Even with one operative dead, he was still outnumbered but two more rounds fired past him to disband the operative forces. Echo turned and saw that Wrecker- despite being flat on the ground- had been the one to fire the shots but he was still in danger. Echo fired a series of shots to the operative that Wrecker had forced out of the window and that operative also fell dead to the ground.

But Echo couldn’t ease up. Another operative had recovered from the disruption and attacked them again. Echo opened fire back as he took cover behind one of the obstacles.

Wrecker was slower to react. The shot he took to the inside of his leg as he rolled for shelter was yet another painful sign of how out of it he was. But he needed to get it together, Echo still needed him, and he wasn’t going to let his brother down.

Echo carefully moved around the room. He knew there were two operatives remaining and they made themselves know quickly. Now that the danger of the gas was gone, he had removed his helmet to aid in his breathing but as he walked around the side of one of the wall obstacles, a wave of blaster fire was sent in his direction, and he quickly pressed himself back against the wall. He searched for another way to somehow get behind the operative who had fired on him but as he did so, he felt a threat approaching his own back. As he turned, he saw the operative with the vibroblade weapons lunge for him and his blaster wasn’t primed to take the shot to stop it.

With a loud shout, Wrecker got to his feet and picked the operative up by the neck and smashed his head through one of the walls. That took up the last of his energy, his legs gave out and he fell to the ground with a deep groan.

Seeing his brother go down so heavily alarmed Echo deeply which was why he wasn’t the one to kill the final operative that had emerged. No, those shots came from one of the clones who had rallied by his side for this fight. He gave him a grateful nod before he knelt by Wrecker’s side. The clone could barely keep his eyes open, and he was breathing in short, sharp pants, his pain was obvious. “Wrecker, where are the others?” Echo asked as he looked on worriedly as his brother.

“They’ve- they’ve gone after-” Wrecker broke off with a low groan and couldn’t finish the thought. He was too exhausted and sore to focus on anything other than staying awake.

Echo put it together. “I can help you get there but I need you to get to your feet.” Echo urged as insistent but as caringly as possible, but Wrecker made no move to stand. “Come on, Wrecker, you can do it.” He thought of the first thing he could think of to get him there. “Tech’s alive. He’s waiting at the shuttle.”

“If that’s supposed to cheer me up, it’s a bad way to do it.” Wrecker managed to grunt.

“I’m serious. Omega found him.”

Wrecker glanced at Echo and a brief rush of adrenaline hit him as he saw the serious and honest look on Echo’s face.

“It’s true. I saw him.” The other clone added as he came over to offer his help.

Wrecker allowed himself to believe that because it was now the only thing giving him the strength to even think about getting up. With a determined moan, he got to his feet.

Echo, along with the other clone, supported Wrecker as they all made their way to the shuttle.

Hunter had managed to stand and grab the spear that the operative had left behind, but everything was still blurring together in one dark and incoherent shape. He couldn’t fully tell one sense apart from the other, everything was too sore and disjointed.

But he knew there was still an operative up here and he had to focus on finding him.

Crosshair was also beginning to get to his feet and as he saw CX-2 creep next to his pod and aim his blaster at Hunter, Crosshair kicked his arm which caused the shot to go array.

Tracking the sound, Hunter threw the spear in the direction it had come from and heard the sharp blade meeting it’s target as CX-2 was speared in the gut and the power behind Hunter’s through saw doubly sure that he was dead as he was flung back into the power grid and electrocuted.

Hunter grabbed the fallen rifle and spoke to Crosshair through gritted teeth, “I’ll go get them. You should stay here.”

“Not a chance.” Crosshair grunted as he properly got to his feet.

Hunter picked up a second blaster and handed Crosshair the sniper rifle.

Supporting each other, the two of them hobbled out the room to go catch up with you and Omega.

The night air was cold as a storm raged on.

Thunder rumbled above you.

Lightening flashed through the black clouds.

The pouring rain pelted against your skin.

The wind whipped across your face.

But as unpleasant as it was, it did help get you out of your sedative state. You just had to wait for the right moment and so long as Scorch had a blaster pressed to your back and Omega was cuffed and attached to Hemlock, it wasn’t the right moment, so you pretended to still be as compliant as you had been when being led through the corridors out of the training room.

Hemlock led the way across the exposed and narrow walkway towards the landing platform. He was almost there. He could rebuild once he got away. He ignored the girl’s struggles and protests as he dragged her further along and pressed the button on the control sleeve that would bring the ship to them. Just as the ship was preparing to land, two blaster bolts hit the right and left engines and the ship erupted into flames.

You used as your moment to take care of Scorch. You smacked the back of your head into his visor and turned on your heels to grab his blaster.

In the push and shove struggle, both of you teetered towards the edge of the bridge. One particularly nasty shove from Scorch saw to it that you fell over the top, but you still had a hold of his blaster, so he toppled over with you.

You just about managed to take a scrappy hold of the one of the bars that formed the boundary of the walkway, Scorch fell past you into the abyss below. The metal was slick against your fingers and being cuffed wasn’t making holding on any easier, your grip was haphazard at best. Which was why you weren’t surprised that you couldn’t keep a secure hold and you slipped downwards, your fingers catching the edge of the platform.

You saw the scene unfolding across from you and you wished there was more you could do to help but all you could do now was fight to keep your head up as your legs dangled aimlessly. You called on every piece of strength you had to hold on and wait this out.

Hemlock thrust Omega in front of him and wrapped his arm around her neck as he held the blaster to her head. You were out of the picture for now, his main adversaries remained further down the bridge. “That’s far enough!” He threatened as he saw the clones

Hunter shook the rain from his eyes as he and Crosshair paused to figure out the next best course of action. He had to trust that you would hold on for long enough. Right now, his priority was Omega. He knelt down and kept his blaster trained on Hemlock.

Crosshair did the same, only he rested his rife on Hunter’s shoulder as he peered down his scope.

The two of them synchronised their breathing as the storm echoed around them but that didn’t distract them. Their entire focus was on the two people down the walkway.

“You won’t get past them.” Omega said, no fear in her voice.

“They won’t risk hurting you.” Hemlock said through heavy breaths. “And it’s not only you they have to consider.”

“Neither will you. You need me alive.” Omega countered. “And she’s a lot stronger than you think.” She said, knowing that no matter what, you would be fine.

Hemlock brought her to the edge of the bridge opposite to where you were hanging. “If I go over, then you go over.” He then bellowed down to the clones, “Drop the blasters!”

But Omega wasn’t going to entertain that outcome. Hemlock’s arrogance would be his downfall. She reached into her sleeve and grabbed the tool she had stolen from Emerie’s supply kit.

Hunter saw what Omega was doing and understood her plan. “Shoot the binders.” He told Crosshair.

“I- I- I can’t.” Crosshair stammered. He had rarely practiced with his left hand as the trigger hand and these conditions were less than ideal to make such a precise shot. “They’re too close. If I’m off- I can’t risk Omega.”

“She knows what to do, Crosshair.” Hunter said. He trusted Omega and he trusted Crosshair. He had all the confidence that his brother could make the shot. “Wait for her, then take the shot.”

Crosshair let that faith and his own desire to rescue Omega guide him as he rested his finger on the trigger. He could do this. He knew he could. He inhaled and exhaled steadily as he waited on her.

Omega stabbed her implement into Hemlock’s thigh and used his surprise to step away from him and she raised their cuffed hands in the air.

When Crosshair’s shot met it’s mark and separated them, she crouched down as she heard six shots hit Hemlock’s chest and she watched his body fall over the side.

Releasing a thankful sigh, you braced yourself on your forearms as you worked on hauling yourself back up. You felt a supportive hand tug at your arm and angled your gaze to see Omega doing her best to help you back onto the bridge.

Once safely situated and cuff free thanks to Omega’s tool, you stayed propped on your knees and braced your hands on your thighs as you caught your breath and looked at the young girl and all it took was that glance from you. She crashed into you, and you squeezed her close. “Are you alright?”

Omega squeezed you back and nodded into your neck. “Yeah… I’m okay.” She said through an exhausted but relieved sigh. “Are you?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m okay.” You said, your throat tightening as you realised what was about to happen next. It had been the thing that had gotten you through every night since arriving here. And it had been the thing you had so nearly given up and lost.

You both pulled apart at the same time.

You got to your feet and followed her gaze towards the two men still kneeling further down the bridge. You didn’t need to check with her, you both started running together.

Naturally, you reached them just before Omega did and you didn’t really slow down in your approach.

With adrenaline overpowering your own lingering pain and tiredness, you- getting caught up in the excitement of seeing Hunter again- foolishly forgot about his injuries and all but launched yourself at him. You collided against his chest with a happy cry and flung your arms around him and pulled him close to you.

“Ow ow ow.” Hunter mumbled with a sharp wince as he braced himself against your strength, but he couldn’t help himself, he clung to you just as tightly.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your words were muffled from where you pressed your face in the crook of his neck. You went to pull away instead, but he wasn’t letting you yet, in fact he readjusted his hold to keep you right where you were.

Hunter breathed you in and let himself get lost in the feeling of holding you and feeling you against him. The familiar shape and scent of your body providing him the comfort and security he needed to alleviate part of the pain he was feeling with his senses. He nuzzled into your neck and used one hand to cradle the back of your head whilst his other arm still kept you tight to him.

The two of you held onto each other like you were terrified it was all a dream and you might be taken away again. The bridge was cold and wet against your legs but after all that had just happened, it hardly mattered now. The rain continued its deluge against your body, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was this moment right here and now.

Only when his body did truly start to protest against the strain, did Hunter relax his arms.

You released your own arms and hid your face in your hands as the emotions of the time that had passed hit you all at once. Sobs mixed with laughter left your throat and racked through your body as you realised that he was safe. That Omega was safe. That they all were safe.

Hunter gently took your hands away and carefully held your bruised face. He used his thumbs to softly wipe some of the rain and tears running down your cheeks. He brushed some wet strands of hair tenderly away from your face before murmuring, “I love you.” A kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” A kiss to your cheek. “I love you,” A kiss to your other cheek.

You stared into his brown eyes as you got yourself under control and they grounded you so completely as you saw the feeling behind them. “I love you too.” You gasped breathlessly. You threaded your fingers in his damp strands and-more mindful of his injuries- leaned forward.

Hunter went to close the gap but the sound of someone managing a strained but somehow still very pointed cough caused you both to stop and you turned your head to see Crosshair and Omega waiting expectantly.

“What? No hugs for us?” Crosshair said with a light-hearted, albeit pained, smile at the two of you.

You huffed out a chuckle and together, you and Hunter slid into their embrace, and you all wrapped your arms around one another. You shared in that moment until Omega decided to break away.

You all got to your feet, but you noticed how unsteady both Crosshair and Hunter were.

With Omega looking out for Crosshair, you focused your attention on Hunter. “Lean on me.” You instructed him as you placed his arm around you, and you took on his weight as you all made your way to the transport hangar.

You all reached the shuttle and slowly walked up the ramp but the person you saw tending to Wrecker’s wounds had you all forgetting any remaining aches and pains.

All three of you inhaled sharply and stopped short. You shared a look to make sure you were all in agreement with what- or rather-who you were seeing.

“Yeah, you’re not seeing things.” Wrecker told you all with a cheery disposition.

Echo had a small yet delighted grin on his face as he took in the stunned yet happy reactions from all of you.

“Oh… did I not mention that?” Omega kidded, a joyous smile on her own face.

“Tech?” Crosshair all but whispered.

“You’re alive?” You and Hunter said together, emotion overwhelming both of you as you spoke.

“You sound surprised.” Tech said with a small smile. What did catch him by surprise though was the way he was dragged into a large group hug with all six of you.

And as the shuttle took off and you all had that minute together, you were hit with a remarkable sense of home.

The shuttle landed in Pabu and the rescued clones steadily departed the shuttle first.

Echo, Omega and Wrecker were the first of you all to leave with Echo wanting to check on Emerie and Omega wanting to check on her friends from the vault.

Tech made to go too but hesitated as he caught the attention of a familiar face.

Phee’s eyes widened. She walked up the ramp and took in the messy yet totally recognisable man in front of her. “Well, brown eyes, it’s about damn time.”

Tech made to adjust his non-existent goggles but caught himself. “I was- uh- rather occupied for a while.”

Phee raised her chin and smiled. She came up the ramp and linked arms with the clone. “Now your survival is an adventure I want to hear all about.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the faintness of blushes on Tech’s cheeks.

“Well, it involved a grappling hook and some pretty fast thinking. I was falling…”

You, Hunter and Crosshair watched them walk away and you caught the completely astonished expression on Crosshair’s face. It was possible he was more taken aback by that than by seeing Tech come back from the dead.

“I have a question.” Crosshair asked as he stared at the fading figures.

“What’s that?” You said, pretending to have no idea as to why he looked so bewildered. You welcomed Hunter’s arm that looped around your waist and the look he gave you told you that he was willing to play along.

“We just spent the duration of that journey getting medical attention and catching Tech up on everything that had happened since you all ignored Plan 88, right?”

“Right.” Hunter agreed, ignoring the playful jab.

“And I was on Pabu and with you all a good while before everything went to shit.” Crosshair said.

“Uh huh.” You concurred, a slightly teasing smile on your face as you waited for him to get to the point of his question.

“So, please explain to me why no one thought to tell me about that.” He pointed with his left hand towards Tech and Phee. “Since when did Tech get- I mean how- just what exactly is that?”

“Oh… that.” You feigned a sudden realisation. “Huh, I guess they did get pretty close whilst we were staying here. How many dates was it before we had to leave, Hunter?”

Hunter matched your teasing tone. “Yeah, I don’t know. At least three or four- not that Tech truly realised that’s what they were. We really didn’t tell you?” He asked Crosshair, a smirk on his face.

“You two are impossible.” Crosshair groused before he walked down the ramp, muttering under his breath.

You laughed quietly as you watched him leave.

Hunter let out a low chuckle too as he brought you in closer to his side and he pressed his lips to the top of your head before you both walked out the ship.

Emerie observed the children from afar and was pleased to see them chasing the animals of the island and interacting with the Omega and the other young clones. “They’ve adapted quickly.” She said as Echo approached her side.

“Kids are resilient.”

“A childhood’s not something we ever had. Our lives have never been our own.”

“Until now. I’m heading to Pantora to help get some of the clones settled. I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find whatever you have to say very helpful for our cause.”

“I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.”

Echo rested a hand on her shoulder before he made for the shuttle once more.

Emerie followed a few paces behind.

As you and Hunter were making your way from the shuttle, Omega called out your name.

You paused and turned to see she had brought a group of kids over with her.

“These were the children I was telling you about. This is Eva, Jax, Sami and Bayrn.” She introduced each child in kind before she introduced you and said to them, “And this is my friend I told you about.”

“Hello.” You said warmly as they looked at you, both with curiosity and nervousness.

“I um, I filled them in on everything. I hope that’s okay.”

You nodded. “You contact Rex, I’ll catch up.” You said to Hunter whilst Omega went to go find Batcher. You crouched down in front of the remaining children. “Omega told me a lot about you too. I hear you all helped with her escape plan, that’s pretty impressive.” You said sincerely, keeping your voice tender and kind.

“Omega was the one that led it. It was all her. We didn’t do too much.” Jax said.

“A team is only as good as everyone in it. You all had a part to play, and you did it well.” You cleared your throat as you readied yourself for the next part. “Now, I know Omega has told you that I’m a Jedi, and did she tell you what that means?”

All of them nodded.

“Okay, that’s good. And I have to ask, have any of you ever like an object moved without you touching it, or you were somehow able to jump higher than you expected?”

You knew Baryn couldn’t really understand and wasn’t paying much attention as he babbled away in Sami’s arms, but you figured he was there for the same reasons as the rest of them nodded again.

“We’re going to look out for you whilst we work on getting you back to your families, but life will always be a bit different for you now, and you’ll still have to be careful. But I can teach you some things whilst you’re still here that should help and once you’re home, if you or your parents have any more questions, you’re welcome to come back.” You offered, smiling at them as they nodded. “Alright, that’s all from the grown up for today. Carry on exploring.” You said fondly before you stood up and went to rejoin Hunter and Omega

You, Hunter and Omega had taken up position by the weeping maya tree with Batcher lying by Omega’s side. You all watched as the clones walked around freely and the children from the vault got to enjoy being kids once more and it was a delightful sight to take in.

“With Hemlock gone and his data destroyed, they’re finally safe.” Omega said with relief.

“Mm-hmm.” Hunter agreed and released a relieved sigh of his own as the impact of that statement properly hit him. “And so are both of you.”

“Will it take long to find their families?”

“Rex and I are working on it, but we’ll look after them until then.”

“And that brings the adoptive parent tally up to eight- nine including Gungi.” You kidded affectionately before you laid down next to Hunter and rested your head in his lap.

“Like you didn’t just offer them that exact thing whilst I was speaking to him.” Hunter retorted playfully as he brushed the backs of his fingers across your cheek.

You stuck your tongue out at him before the sound of the shuttle powering up grabbed all of your attention. You raised your head and saw Echo getting ready to depart with some of the clones that wanted to continue the fight. All four of you dipped your heads and smiled in farewell.

“What about the rest of the clones?” Omega asked as she watched the shuttle leave. “Will they stay here on Pabu?”

“Well, it’s up to them. They’re free to follow their own path.” Hunter exhaled tiredly but kept his voice light as he said, “We’ve all fought enough battles for one lifetime. Now we get to choose who we want to be.”

“Like what?” Omega asked.

You smiled at Hunter and placed your head back down in his lap. You closed your eyes and let the sun’s warmth seep into your skin.

“Whatever we want, kid.” The girl leaned against his arm and his voice and face softened at the action, “Whatever we want.”

Then, as the Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair came to sit down with the three of you, Hunter stared down at your utterly content form and stroked a hand past your brow and through your hair.

He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to be next.

Post S3 oneshot>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @notgonnaedit, @dominoeffectsworld, @allthingsimagines , @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff , @qvnthesia , @justsomerandompersonintheworld

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femaleJedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x fem!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #angst #fluff

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sas-soulwriter · 1 year

Text

Hello , here are some really basic writing tips.

Intriguing Openings: Start with a bang! Drop your readers into the middle of action or create a mystery that begs to be solved. Make them curious from the first sentence.

Character Backstories: Dive deep into your characters' pasts. Share their quirks, secrets, and defining moments. Readers love discovering what makes characters tick.

Sensory Descriptions: Paint a vivid picture using all five senses. Describe the smell of freshly baked cookies, the feel of a soft summer breeze, or the taste of a sour lemon.

Plot Twists: Keep your readers on their toes with unexpected plot twists. Surprise them by turning a seemingly predictable story into something extraordinary.

Cliffhangers: Leave your audience hanging at the end of a chapter or post. A well-placed cliffhanger will have them eagerly awaiting the next installment.

Metaphors and Similes: Add color to your writing with creative comparisons. For example, "Her smile was as bright as a thousand suns," adds a vivid and poetic touch.

Character Relationships: Explore complex dynamics between characters. Highlight their conflicts, alliances, and the evolution of their relationships throughout the story.

Symbolism: Incorporate symbols or motifs that carry deeper meaning. They can enhance the overall theme and give readers something to ponder.

Narrative Voice: Experiment with different narrative voices, such as first-person, third-person limited, or even second-person, to find the one that suits your story best.

Foreshadowing Mysteries: Drop subtle hints and clues early in the story that will become crucial later on. Readers love piecing together mysteries.

Unreliable Narrators: Consider using an unreliable narrator to keep readers guessing. They might misinterpret events or hide critical information.

Flashbacks as Puzzle Pieces: Use flashbacks strategically to reveal key aspects of the story or characters. Make them fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Dialect and Dialogue: Give characters distinct voices through their speech patterns and accents. Engaging dialogue can showcase personality and culture.

Emotional Rollercoasters: Take readers on an emotional journey. Make them laugh, cry, and experience every emotion alongside your characters.

Settings with Personality: Make the setting almost like another character. Show how it impacts the characters and the story's mood.

Evoke Empathy: Share characters' vulnerabilities, fears, and desires. Readers relate to flawed, authentic characters with whom they can empathize. Let them fail.

Experiment with Structure: Play with non-linear timelines, multiple perspectives, or fragmented narratives. Challenge traditional storytelling conventions.

Clever Wordplay: Incorporate puns, wordplay, or clever language usage to add humor and depth to your writing.

Cinematic Scenes: Write scenes that readers can visualize as if they were watching a movie. Use dynamic action and vivid descriptions.

Leave Room for Imagination: Don't spell everything out. Allow readers to use their imaginations to fill in some blanks.

Remember that storytelling is an art, and there's no one-size-fits-all approach. You can use these techniques to improve your unique style and the story you want to tell. Most importantly, have fun writing.

And remember to drink enough water!

If you want to have more of this , than click below and follow me.

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bettyfrommars · 10 days

Text

Death Becomes Us

vampire!Eddie x supernatural!Reader

Part 11: Strange Blood

masterlist playlist

18+only, smut, unprotected piv, oral, blood drinking, mind-bending moments, supernatural elements, vampires, fear of the unknown. Hopper and vampire!Joyce, werewolf!Steve, and a few others.

word count: 12.4k

Summary: All I can say is that this is another wild one, lmao. Not an action-packed rollercoaster like the previous chapter, but definitely some odd things going on. You know me, it gets a bit wacky. It's been my honor to be on this journey with you, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter. I love you, dear readers.

A/N: Hi everyone who has patiently waited for more of this story, Betty finally did it! I had a hard time coming back to this one only because I wasn't sure in which direction I wanted to take it. Oh, and also, I forgot how to write there for a while but anyway, the previous chapter was such chaos, and I wanted to take them in a different direction, so I did. Although this is the end of the series, there is still plenty I want to write for the True Blood universe, so this will not be the end.

------

this picks up right where part 10 left off

“I have dreams about you too, you know,” Eddie said softly from the edge of the bed. Shirtless and quickly healing after the bullets were removed, he used both hands to pull his hair into a ponytail, and then released it.

Sweat bloomed on your scalp, and all you could do was swallow thickly, spinning on your heel to head for the hallway.

“I’m sorry if what I said was too much,” you babbled in a rush. “We can just forget—”

Eddie hopped up to snatch your hand. “Hey wait—don’t,” he heard the harsh desperation in his voice and then softened it to a whisper. “Please.”

You stopped in your tracks and let him tug you backwards slowly, step by step.

Before he could put his arm around your waist, you turned on a dime, sliding fingers along the cool ripples of his ribs, watching his parted lips, the way his breath hitched in surprise. It felt like there was no time and no distance in between his mouth and yours; suddenly they clashed together and your hand made a fist in his hair.

He wasn’t expecting it, but neither were you, and it was a breathless, awkward meeting of teeth for a moment. Stumbling back so that his legs hit the back of the bed frame, Eddie toppled to the mattress, taking you with him.

You weren’t sure if it was the tension that had been building between the two of you, or the adrenaline from the recent vampire massacre that happened right outside your door, but you devoured each other like it was the last day of immortality.

For as much of a prick as he could be out in the real world, Eddie was gentle and eager, taking your clothes off with trembling hands so that he didn’t rip them before he tasted you from face to hip, kissing down the jagged scar on your sternum while you clung to his head and writhed.

It was more than foreplay to him; his attention was a form of worship, the next best thing to running his mouth was filling it full of you.

You clawed at his belted black jeans and he smiled against your kiss. “So, does this mean you like me?”

Your eyes locked while you helped to push his denim jeans down to his hips, your heart in your throat. “You need me to say it?”

“You don’t have to, but I’ll say it,” he lifted up on his forearms, his hair tickling your cheeks from the way he hovered over you, one dimple popping up from his crooked smile. “I really really dig you.”

“Show me,” you whispered, lifting to slide your nose along his, making a shiver run through him.

“As you wish, m’lady,” he chuckled, pushing his jeans all the way off and kicking them to the side with such force that they hit the wall.

He had no right to be so gorgeous, you thought, running hungry hands down the icy, tattooed flesh of his stomach where the bullet holes had already healed. A single whisper of, “I wanted this for so long,” came out in a breathy whisper when he intertwined his fingers with yours.

Being pressed up against your skin made him feel like he was standing too close to a raging bonfire, like maybe his body hairs would get singed. He wanted to beg you to leave a mark on him; the branding iron of your touch to claim his animated corpse.

He made you come with his mouth first, growling into you as you shook and fluttered on his tongue. His skill level suggested that it was not his first rodeo by far, but you could tell he was listening and learning about the things that felt best to you, the right speed and pressure that made you cry out his name and claw at his skin. He wanted to please you—more than that, Christ—he wanted to be the only one.

Eddie fucked you into next week. Each of you were sweaty and depraved, but his saliva felt like melting ice, and you could almost hear it sizzle when it met your heat. Tongues wrestling together, moaning sweet and filthy things until you were bouncing on top of him, hips snapping up to meet you, cumming so hard you thought you might explode into vapor.

His fangs latched onto the side of your throat after you begged for it, making everything messy and sticky. You liked hearing the way he whined when the tang of your blood hit his tongue, the way he fed from your vein, sealing the wound with a few kitten licks. At one point, with crimson dripping down either side of his chin, he was taking you from behind and his hips stuttered.

“Roll over,” he rumbled. “I need to see you.”

And that was how he came, buried deep with his eyes locked on yours, spilling every drop until he was almost convulsing. He sliced a cut on his chest with the fingernail of his thumb, and coaxed you up to drink from him, moaning at your insatiable hunger, the way you moaned into him.

Eddie might’ve been lost in the heat of the moment, but he knew what he felt for you was more than just… “like”. His head spun when you whimpered things like, “deeper Eddie, cum inside of me.”

It’d been years since he’d slept with someone he cared about, but even then, it wasn’t like with you. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as the gentle kisses you planted on his palm before sucking his fingers while you rode him.

Yeah, he had it bad for you.

Neither of you bothered to clean up once the pace began to slow down. He rolled onto his side to make out with you with dried blood in the corner of his mouth, not ready to end what you just shared, for fear it would never happen again.

No one who mattered ever stuck around.

He ran a tender thumb over the scar on your cheek that was also caked with a line of crimson. “So, you were in a…car accident?” He asked in a whisper.

“Apparently I died,” you laughed to soften the harsh truth of it. “My father tried…” you trailed off, and Eddie was about to say you didn’t have to talk about it, but then you continued. “I guess you could say he exchanged his life for mine.”

“I wish I could’ve met him,” he trailed off, tracing your eyebrow with his finger. He interlocked his fingers with one of your hands and held it to his chest. “Tell him how grateful I am.”

“He would’ve liked you,” the thought of never being about to introduce Eddie to your father made tears swell. Eddie scooped you closer, pulling your leg up by the crook of your knee to wrap your thigh over the sticky length of his cock.

“This is nice,” he hummed, eyelids flickering shut to the feeling of your warm breath on his shoulder. “Stay with me for a minute?”

The two of you dozed off, and you awoke to Eddie shooting upright into a seated position with a jolt.

“Shit, it’ll be dawn soon,” he hissed, head spinning to look at the digital alarm clock by your bed.

You sat up too, looking at the big window with thin white curtains that could never block the potentially murderous rays of the sun.

“I could cover it with…something else? A comforter?” You hurried to shuffle off the mattress, suddenly panicked at the thought of what would happen if he was exposed to daylight.

He was up and yanking his jeans on. “These windows are a death trap,” but then a thought made him smile to himself. “I guess if my time comes, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Your time has NOT come, okay?” You hastily pulled a t-shirt on from one of your drawers. “I refuse to let the best sex of my life go without a fight.”

He cocked his head with a blushing smirk and repeated his question from earlier. “Does that mean you like me?”

“Stop it,” you playfully shoved him on your way by, scooting a pair of shorts up your hips. “This is serious.”

“Oh it’s very serious,” and then he caught your hips with both hands before you could get too far away and pulled you back.

“Let’s get you to a safe place first,” you muttered against his lips. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

A loud thud banged on the roof like a good sized rock landed from the sky, and you both knew it was Bela returning from wherever she’d been for the past few hours to avoid the danger. When You turned the light on in the living room, Dio stretched and yawned from her position curled up on the arm of the couch.

From where you stood at the mouth of the hallway near the kitchen, you could see the front of Eddie’s trailer through the courtyard facing window. A few steps more and you could see half of it, somehow unscathed by the fire.

Surely, your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Maybe it was the backside that had been affected by the flames? Maybe it was still too dark to see, but the sun would be up soon enough—

“Eddie?” You motioned for him to follow you, to see what you were seeing, and then you stood side by side, dumfounded.

Surely, most of his house should’ve been nothing but a pile of charred wreckage.

An eerie feeling of fear washed over you, making your eyes dart over to the television screen, waiting for a face to appear like Brenner’s had the night before.

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered. “How could your trailer survive the fire without a scratch?”

Eddie’s pinky hooked onto yours when he couldn’t find the words.

You let out a heavy sigh a beat later when you figured it out. “This is another dream, isn’t it? Of course it is.”

“No, no way,” he shook his head, paying attention to the horizon that would soon light up with his demise. “There’s no way we would be in the same dream like this. This is real.”

Seeing Bela sail in the front door and land clunkily on the top of the TV gave you a huge amount of relief. You patted the top of her smooth head a few times, thankful to have her as a constant.

“Be right back,” Eddie said just before he did that vampire thing and zipped outside at the speed of light. You watched him dart in and out of his trailer, and then he was back at your side again.

“That’s my trailer, all right,” hands crossed over his chest, he gnawed his lower lip in contemplation. “Nothing’s missing, nothing was burned. Even my guitar is over there, when I know I brought her here. Doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“No it doesn’t,” you agreed softly. You should’ve been grateful his trailer was untouched, but instead it filled you with dread.

Eddie turned, eyes narrowing on the deep orange creeping over the mountains.

“I need to get underground,” he started looking around, like maybe he could dig a quick hole in the floor. Instead, he went over to the western style couch with wagon wheels and cowboys on the upholstery and inspected it.

“Have you ever checked behind here?” He asked.

“No,” you frowned. “Why would I?”

In one effortless swoop, he moved the piece of furniture away from the wall and then stood back.

There was a door built into the carpeted floor near the wall, complete with a handle and lock. At first you couldn't see it, because it was covered in orange shag to match the rest of the living room. You rested your tongue between your teeth, dumbfounded.

“Yeah so that’s a Sunlight Safe Room,” he scratched his head. “They were built into all of the trailers way back in the day. I just never thought to check for yours until now.”

He pushed the couch to the middle with Dio still asleep on the armrest. “Call me paranoid, but I don’t want to be too far from you,” he knelt to open it. “I can stay out of the sun here, if that’s okay?”

You were tempted to “go to rest” with him just so he wouldn’t somehow disappear like the evidence of the fire had. Inside the hatch were ten metal steps downward that opened to a modest concrete area with a twin mattress on the floor.

It looked creepy as hell, like something you’d see in a horror movie like Silence of the Lambs.

“I’ll get you a pillow,” you turned, but he called your name.

“There’s no time,” he was halfway down the steps. “I’ll see you after dusk, okay?”

You didn’t know why you were so afraid to be without him, but you nodded.

“I’ll lock it from the inside,” he said as he pulled the door down and descended. “Stay safe okay? I’ll still be able to feel you if you’re in danger.”

He wanted to say something else to you, words that were clenching on his heart, but then worried it might be too soon.

Bela threw her head back and screeched, stretching out her wings.

“Okay.” You gulped. “I’ll miss you.”

He smiled generously at that, just as the neon light of morning blossomed over the trailer park and you heard the click of the lock on the inside of his…what would you call it? Tomb? No, it was a Vampire Safe Room.

You shifted the sofa back in place and crossed your arms over your chest to stand and stare out the window at the untouched gnome on Eddie’s front steps, still flipping you the bird.

If only its impish mouth could talk.

—-------

After dozing off on the sofa above Eddie for a few hours, you snapped awake flooded with fear that everything had gone back to “normal”. But the door in the floor was still there, and Eddie was still in it; you could hear him snort-snore every so often. The sound made you feel a tidal wave of relief.

If you’d somehow slipped into another dimension, at least you still had Eddie.

You took Dio back over to Eddie’s untouched trailer, just in case Bela forgot her manners, and you asked your demobat companion to keep an eye on Eddie while you were gone. She chirped a few times, swaying back and forth to let you know she understood while she munched on chopped up bananas. She wasn’t very hungry, but the claws on her wings had a hint of blood on them, and you figured she found something to eat in the woods, but you didn’t want to know what.

You hadn’t touched your Polaroid camera in a while, but you used it to snap a photo of Bela then, with her gnarly grin stuffed with banana mash, and then you clapped the land camera shut and put it in your bag.

There was not a single thing amiss in the courtyard of the Crimson Terrace trailer park. No blood in the dead grass, no tracks from all of the vehicles and the crowds, and your hearse did not have a single new scratch.

You shot a glance over your shoulder where Bela perched in the window, wondering if it was a good idea to leave Eddie defenseless like that with how weird everything was. You shivered and zipped up the rest of your hoodie.

On your way around to unlock the driver’s door, your landlord Dolores spotted you from four trailers away and came out to wave you down. She wore one of her signature muumuus with pink curlers in her short, auburn hair. .

You flinched as you walked up her three steps to the small porch, thinking she’d interrogate you about all of the chaos, or have an issue with you spending time with your vampire neighbor.

But it wasn’t a scolding she wanted to give you; it was a letter.

Adressed to you with no return address, the envelope was weathered yellow like it had traveled across the ocean by rowboat, and then the rest of the way by horse and buggy. She’d found it on her doorstep that morning.

“Thanks,” you said absently, turning it over in your hand as you walked off. You waited until you were safely behind the wheel and down the street before you opened it, trembling.

The piece of parchment inside was wispy thin, but the date was somehow...exactly a year from the day you were in.

That had to be a mistake. The person just messed up the numbers, it happens.

You’re probably very co fused right ow.

That was how the letter started.

You stared at the words with dry, unblinking eyes, noticing that the letter “n” was missing from the typeset.

You folded the paper over in your lap and checked to see if anyone was nearby watching. You bit on the cuticle of your pinky finger for a few seconds before opening it again.

You’re i a slightly differe t timeli e ow. That’s all I ca say without revealing too much. Ma y thi gs will be differe t, but some will be the same.

A laugh bubbled in your throat; one of those insane laughs appropriate for absolute absurd things. It had to be a joke, one that you did not find particularly amusing.

A different timeline? How was that even possible? You’d been introduced to many odd things you never previously believed existed, but this one was a little more difficult to wrap your brain around.

Whe the time is right, everything will be revealed. U til the , stay safe.

It wasn’t signed, and there was no hint as to who or where it had come from.

You turned the weathered, creased paper over as if there might be a photo of the author, and then you stared out the dirty windshield, letting it sink in.

The most bonkers thing about it was that it actually made sense. It was the only possible explanation for there being no sign of any of the wreckage from the night before.

If it wasn’t a joke, then who was this messenger committed to giving you a heads up?

Tucking the letter into your bag with a hard swallow, you cranked the radio up on the way into town, headed to Main Vein. The trees were bare, and the sky was heavy with clouds, hiding a dollop of egg yolk sun behind their veil. You’d drop in to get your new schedule from Bob, and perhaps see if the town of Hawkins had changed.

You caught sight of Argyle’s VW beetle parked down a side street and smiled to yourself, knowing at least that was a constant. Main Vein was still housed in the same building, but the red neon sign in the window said VEIN ON MAIN instead. .

Robin’s bookstore appeared to have a quaint cafe attached to it. You were able to get a glimpse of her there, sitting at a small, round sidewalk table. Her hair was longer, worn in a ponytail, and she held hands with the other woman across from her. At their feet was the tan pit bull terrier who had helped you defeat the Klemps all of those months ago in the alley.

At least it looked like the same dog.

Would they remember you at Main Vein? Or…Vein on Main?

You drove around the block and then parked at the curb, the same place you’d parked the hearse the day of your first interview with Bob Newby.

The Main Vein you remembered had floor to ceiling windows in front that were covered in dark velvet blackout curtains during the day, but this space had a red brick front with two small windows painted black and a red door. The windows each had neon signs in them: one for Pabst Blue Ribbon, and one for the synthetic vampire blood called NuBlood.

The black door opened to a space the size of a generous closet facing another door. There was a gumball machine, a stack of local newspapers, and a guy on a stool reading what appeared to be a paperback romance novel. One of those bodice ripping ones with the dramatic covers. He had one foot planted on the ground, while the booted heel of the other hooked onto a rung on the stool.

His honey brown hair looked like it had been styled with a blow dryer, and he wore a pair of sunglasses pushed up to his forehead, even though he had no use for them since it was fairly dark in that nook.

He glanced up bored at first, but then straightened when he saw you.

“It’s you,” Steve beamed, folding the corner of a page in his book to save his spot. “I didn’t think you were on the clock today?”

Your mind froze. So, Steve was your coworker in this new timeline? You tried not to let your brain short-circuit over this new information.

At least you could be comforted by the fact that you still had employment.

“Wait, what is your job again?” You asked, looking around the space between the two doors.

He gave you a side-eye as if you were fucking with him. “I’ve been the bouncer for a few weeks now. Argyle got me the job, remember?”

“Oh right, oh sure,” you nodded wildly a few times.

“Are you feeling okay?” His look was one of genuine concern.

“I’m good, I promise.” You offered a flat smile that did not reach your eyes. “But is it okay if I ask you another potentially really stupid question?”

“Shoot.” He crossed his booted feet at the ankles in front of him, leaning back.

“Did we…did we ever…” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Did we ever…go on a date? To see a movie?”

Steve scratched his stubbled chin. “Well I wouldn’t call it a date-date, but I was a third wheel with you and Erica that night Robin bailed on me.”

“And you’re still…also a werewolf, right?” Now the absurd questions were just flying out.

He tilted his head, and his eyes glowed red for a second as an answer. “Last I checked.”

“Okay, good.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Maybe not?” You shrugged. “But I’ll be okay. Is Bob here?”

“Think so,” he was about to say more, but just as your hand was on the door to go in, the outside door began to open, and he hopped up. “Hold on, there,” he told the person outside, pulling the door shut again. “Only one door can open at a time.”

“Now you can go,” he nodded, gesturing for you to enter. You didn’t confirm it, but figured that it was a safety measure to keep sunlight off of the vampires that were possibly inside.

Inside Vein on Main looked like a casino with various shades of burgundy and neon red. No natural light, but the mirrored bar was backlit, and there were stained glass lamp shades hanging down over the dark booths to your right. A synth-wave techno beat thumped from unseen speakers as curls of smoke from the end of cigarettes gathered into a gray cloud. At the far back was a pool table and a stage in the corner on a riser with a bunch of musical equipment set up.

You saw Erica behind the bar, and were about to go over to say hello to her, but a cold hand clamped down on your shoulder.

“Just the one I wanted to see,” Jareth’s voice rumbled in your ear.

He was the last one you expected to bump into in a human/vampire crossover bar. He’d always been much too above such things. His blonde hair was slicked back, his blue eyes burning with intensity.

“How did you get in here in the middle of the day?”

“I have my ways,” he said cryptically. Older vampires like Jareth didn’t need to sleep as much as the younger ones, so he had more time to get up to mischief.

“No but really,” you looked him up and down, noting that he was still in the standard, fashionable Jareth attire, and then glanced around to the handful of other patrons. “What are you doing here?”

He glared at you skeptically. “Why wouldn’t I be here? This is my bar.”

“What about Sacrament?”

“It’s still there,” he crossed his arms over his chest, curious about this odd line of questioning but, he decided to indulge you. “There’s an underground tunnel that connects the two.”

The new information was all very…disorientating, to say the least. You felt like your head was spinning, like you might possibly throw up or something.

“And Bob? What did you do with him?” There was a hint of frustrated anger in your tone.

“Bob and Maxine run the place. I am more of what you would call…a silent partner.” He pushed into your space, towering over you as if he might lower his head for a kiss. “But you know this already, don’t you, Dove?”

You turned away, snatching his elbow to pull him into a booth with you. He stood fast at first, not wanting to follow, but then slowly obliged.

“Listen, this will probably sound crazy,” you started.

“Oh I have no doubt about that.” He laced his fingers together on the polished wood table top.

A long exhale and then you laced your fingers on the table. “Have you ever heard of anyone, um, jumping timelines?”

He sat back, expressionless. “Are you saying that’s what happened to you?”

“Maybe, yes, yeah,” you paused to wonder if you should tell him “I’m pretty sure know that is what happened to me, but I didn’t think it was possible.”

You told him about the past 48 hours, and about the letter you received from some unknown person.

He gave it some thought, spreading his hands out flat to tap his thumbs on the table.

“I’ve heard stories,” he appraised you with his chin tilted down. “But I’ve never met a Jumper in person.”

“Well, nice to meet you.”

“I always knew there was something about you,” he smirked. “I knew you weren’t exactly human, but could never put my finger on it.”

“Congratulations.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Jareth gave a micro shrug. “If somehow you stepped into a nearby timeline, I wouldn’t know how to put you back.”

“I can’t believe how calm you are about this.”

The last time you saw Jareth, he was at your trailer park ripping Brenner and the rest to shreds with the help of a swarm of other vampires. You wanted to thank him, but then realized that was from another timeline he might not remember.

Jareth continued. “Maybe you were pulled into this timeline for a reason. Maybe you weren’t meant to understand.”

You nodded absently, looking around at the new Vein on Main, feeling like you should wake up at any moment.

“You said the letter you received was dated a year from now? Ever think you might’ve written it to yourself?”

Head spinning, might definitely puke.

“Maybe something worse happens in that other timeline and you jumped over to this one to avoid disaster.”

What if something bad happened to Eddie in that other timeline…

You couldn’t get over how chill about the whole mess Jareth was being. Maybe all of the things he’d experienced in the 3,000 some years he’d been a vampire made it so nothing surprised him.

“One thing I have heard about Jumpers…” he waited to finish until a group of giggling humans walked by. “...they eventually forget about the old timeline. Somehow they assimilate to the current one and sync up with the memories. It’s likely that one day, this one will be your new normal, and the other one will feel like a dream you had.”

You weren’t sure if that should comfort you or make you cry.

“Did I at least make a move on you in that other timeline?” Jareth wet his lips while he stared at you.

“Absolutely not,” you responded with a slight roll of your eyes. “Never going to happen in this one, either.”

“Never say never,” his grin was evil in the most charming way.

All you wanted to do at that point was go back to your trailer to sit on the floor and wait for Eddie to wake up.

After a stop at the grocery store and gas station, that was exactly what you did.

—-------

The daylight seemed to last forever. You reread the mysterious letter countless times, let Bela out for a few hours of flying, watched two episodes of Outer Limits with Dio curled up in your lap purring, and paced around the house, glancing at the horizon every so often.

When the sun finally settled into a deep purple sea, you were kneeling at the front of the door when you heard the inside lock jiggle.

“You’re here,” you exhaled a long-held breath, grinning so wide it felt like your cheeks might break while you braced the door open. You also took that opportunity to snap a photo of him with your Polaroid camera, one of him with an expression caught between amusement and surprise. It would end up being one of your most cherished photos of him.

“You sound surprised,” he chuckled.

He rubbed sleep from his eyes with the knuckle of one hand as he made his way up the steps with a yawn.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile that big before,” he remarked groggily.

“I had this weird feeling you’d…disappear or something.”

“Nah,” he came up the final step and then crawled on top of you, making you go flat on the ground with a laugh, dropping the door down with a bang as you went. “You’re stuck with me now, I’m afraid.”

You held his face with both hands, enjoying the weight of his body, the soft moaning and playful flicks of his tongue on yours.

He lifted up to trace your mouth and chin with his finger. “Did you have a good day while I was asleep?”

“I really missed you.”

You tried to kiss him again, but he pulled further away, giving himself a double chin. “Does that mean you like me?”

“I’m still deciding,” your eyes were full of stars as you searched his face.

His hips rolled against you, giving away that his length was already hard, straining against his denim. You reached down to feel him, popping open two of the buttons on his jeans while you were down there.

“Yeah?” He whispered, hooking two fingers inside the leg of your loose shorts to graze your panty line. “You want this?”

“I want you,” his mouth was on yours before you could say another word, cradling his hand behind your head.

When he finally sank in with a moan, you grabbed onto his ass with both hands, urging him closer.

“I love those noises you make,” he mumbled, twitching inside of you.

Your shirt was pushed up, and you’d probably have rugburns on your back later, but right then you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be was as close to him as physically possible.

Eddie shivered when he was seated fully inside, practically purring at the way your nails scratched up his back.

“Bite me,” you gasped, offering the throbbing artery in your throat to him.

He paused, breathless, sliding his nose along your ear. “I don’t want to take too much. Last night was—-”

“Please.” You flexed and rippled around his cock, making him whine. He’d cum in two seconds if you kept doing that. “Just a quickie.”

“Just a quickie, she said,” he hummed. “Sweetheart you have no idea how true that is going to be if you keep squeezing me like that.”

The euphoria that rolled though you when he fed from your vein, coupled with the quickening of his hips when he was close made your eyes roll back in your head. He slowed down, didn’t want to finish before you, but you clamped your legs around him.

He unlatched from your throat with a hiss, fangs stained and dripping. “The things you do to me, holy shit—-”

“Wait wait,” you pulled his face back up so that he would look at you.

He stilled with a frown. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I just wanted…” you trailed off, heart wailing like a steam engine in your chest.

Still throbbing hard inside of you, he gave a hopeful smirk. “Did you want to tell me that you like me?”

“No.” You said softly, hearing his throat click when he swallowed. “But I think I might be in love with you.”

He froze, making sure he heard you correctly, thinking about maybe asking you to say it again just so he could hear it.

He rocked further inside, smashing his mouth onto yours in a way that made you whimper, taking your hand to interlace his fingers.

“Holy shit I love you,” he panted. “I’ve never felt this way before and I should’ve told you, I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid that—-”

“Shhhh.”.

The next few hours brought more of the same, with Eddie never tiring and you craving him in a way that was animalistic. Against the wall, in the shower, on the countertop, and you were both finally able to say the words that had been bubbling up in your chest for a while.

Eddie tucked you in when you fell asleep, and then went over to his place to change clothes and call Gary to see if there was any work available at the chop shop.

For some reason, it didn’t occur to either of you to talk about why everything was different, or why his trailer wasn’t a charred wreck. He’d been shot the night before with silver bullets and almost died, but it never got brought up in conversation again.

You’d fully intended to show him the letter, to tell him about the conversation you’d had with Jareth, but then somehow it simply slipped your mind.

Bela came swooping in the next morning, yapping away like she had a story to tell, and you wished you could speak her language. You remembered the night you rescued her, on your way back from the Upside Down with Eddie.

Why had you gone to Sacrament that night? A date maybe? No, Eddie needed to talk with Jareth, that’s what it was. You were just tagging along.

While you were pondering that night, you had this sudden lightheaded feeling, stumbling over your feet before you thankfully caught yourself on the kitchen island. Making your way down the hallway to the bathroom, you felt like you were on a funhouse floor that was shifting, so you leaned into the wall to catch your bearings.

Splashing water on your face would have to do. You ran the water as cold as possible, and when you saw your reflection in the mirror, you had one of those moments when you didn’t recognize your own face.

Surely, it happens to everyone from time to time, but have your eyes always been two different colors? One was an icy blue, and the other was light green, almost hazel. As if your eyeballs belonged to two completely different people.

The scars, they were familiar. Down your chest, along your jaw, at your shoulders, at your knees and down to your right foot.

After a few deep breaths, your legs no longer felt like jello.

You found a strange typed letter in your bag, but it didn’t make any sense, so you figured it was garbage and threw it away.

—---------

Hopper roused up from a nap shirtless, still wearing his work trousers, to the smell of brown sugar baked salmon coming from the kitchen, and he sat up with a smile on his face. Scratching his head, he changed into something more comfortable; a navy tee with a front pocket and jeans.

“Smells good,” he called from the bathroom where he used a boar bristle brush on his hair and put a little cologne on. He paused to appreciate the way there were two toothbrushes in the ceramic holder by the sink.

He couldn’t believe this was his life, didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it.

He had to part a heavy floor to ceiling curtain to get to the other part of the house. It was hours from sunset, but still there was not a drop of natural light to be seen. He’d renovated half of the trailer to be daylight safe for vampires–one vampire in particular— including covering the windows with metal sheeting that could be lifted at night, if they desired.

“I hope I didn’t leave it in for too long,” Joyce fussed with the rooster print potholders, bending over to get the dish out of the oven.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he followed her over to set the dish on the table and kissed the top of her head just before she finished what she was doing to wrap her arms around him.

“What about you?” He tipped her chin up to gaze lovingly at her face. “Hungry?”

They had a case of NuBlood Type B for when she was in a pinch, but he preferred for her to have the real thing, he didn’t much care for the idea of her sustaining on that synthetic crap. So, he took his iron supplements and stayed healthy, and became her main source of food. She was never greedy, she always knew just how much to take.

But that night, he had a surprise for her.

“One moment,” she watched with adoring eyes as he opened a cupboard above the stove that was much too high for her to reach. He pulled down what looked like a bottle full of corked red wine and presented it to her with a proud grin.

“Ordered it from that vampire mixology show you like,” he let her take it so she could read the label, her mouth set in an O of fascinated awe.

“Plasma donated by a meditation guru who only ate tangerines for a week. They say it’s some tasty shit.”

“Hopper,” she clutched the bottle with the yellow label to her chest and tilted her head to beam up at him. “You didn’t have to do that, it must’ve cost a fortune.”

He stared at her, unable to gauge her reaction. “You don’t like it?”

“No I love it!” She gushed, snuggling into his embrace again. “Nothing could ever taste better than my man, though.”

He rested his chin on her head, grinning like a fool. “One day I’ll kick the nicotine habit and it will taste even better.”

“Well, don’t do it for me, you’ve gotta quit for yourself.” She scooted away to take a bean salad out of the fridge.

She always got up early to start her day so that they could have a meal together before she left for her job as a night time stocker at the local grocery store. Hopper would wake up before sunrise to be able to spend time with her before she went underground to the safe cubby he’d built. More and more, he considered becoming a vampire himself, just to be able to spend more time with her, but that would be a talk for another day.

The table was set with a bouquet of wild, pink poppies, and then a plate with silverware for him, and a glass for her. She’d been sad to give up real food for those first couple months when she was first turned, but by then, almost a decade later, she was amazed at how much she didn’t crave it.

“I had the darndest dream just now,” he cracked open a cold Schlitz and it fizzed.

“Oh yeah? What about?”

He almost didn’t want to say it out loud.

“It was a nightmare really. You were dating Bob.”

Joyce burst out in a bubble of a laugh. “Bob Newby? Of all people. I do like Bob, though, he’s a nice man.”

“You like him more than me?” He teased, frowning.

“Hopper, please.”

He took a sip of beer. “I was addicted to V in the dream. Lonely, and hated my life.”

“Addicted to V, huh? That’s a tough one.” Joyce searched his face with sincere concern.

Vampire blood, or V, was sold illegally to recreational users, and it was highly addicting.

He leaned forward, sliding his big hand up her arm. “I’m addicted to you.”

Before they kissed she hummed, “you’re insatiable,” and then took another sip of her imported treat.

After the sunset, they sat out on the porch for a while, looking up at the stars. Joyce nestled between Hopper’s legs with her back against his stomach in one of the lounge chairs, fingers intertwined at her middle. They talked about the kids, how Joyce’s son Will, who was also a vampire, would be joining them for dinner/breakfast on Sunday, and Jonathan would be bringing his girlfriend home to visit for the holidays. Hopper’s daughter Sarah was on a backpacking trip across Europe, and their fridge was covered in postcards from her travels. She called Hopper collect from Greece that day and told him she’d found a job there and planned to stay a bit longer. He said he was happy for her, but it made his heart hurt to know he wouldn’t see her again until next year.

“I’m pretty happy with this little life of ours,” Joyce said softly.

Hopper planted his lips on the top of her head. “There’s no other timeline I’d want to be in.”

—-----

Eddie rolled up to the chop shop in the white porsche he’d lifted from the parking garage of a fancy restaurant in town. He tipped the valets well, and they never gave him the keys, but were fine with turning their backs so that he could do his work.

From the dark alleyway, metal sparks were flying in the open garage door, and the sound of an electric drill buzzed away from the several other employees working the night shift. Gary handed him an envelope full of cash for the car, and the first thing that came to Eddie’s mind was buying you that rare Kurt Vonnegut copy you’d had your eye on at Robin’s bookstore.

He made his way through the busy work area to the back entrance where he’d parked the GTO. It was still primer gray and needed a lot of interior work, but he liked working on it with Wayne, it was a way for them to bond.

The moon was not yet full. Maybe a few more days and it would be. He stopped to stare up at it for a few beats, wondering if you were battling insomnia again and possibly looking up at it too.

It was late winter, so the sun wasn’t up for a while, and he had plenty of time to get you an iced coffee and have it waiting in the fridge for when you woke up. He used the spare key tied around his neck when he got to your trailer and tip-toed in, trying not to rustle the knob so he didn’t wake you up.

But you were there on the couch next to Bela watching television. Bela stuck her whole face into the bowl of dry cereal before her and came up with colorful Fruity Pebbles stuck to her lips while she munched, making growing sounds.

“How long have you been up?” He took his leather jacket and battle vest off to hook them on the back of the door, revealing a Warlock shirt with the collar ripped out.

“Dad’s on the news again,” you said without answering his question, without taking your eyes off the TV. “He called last night to tell me about it, but I almost slept in and forgot.”

He sat down on the other side of Bela and stretched his hand along the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

Your father, the brilliant surgeon turned funeral director turned “mad scientist” in the media, was doing a tour as a guest speaker for several well-known universities. A lot of people were fascinated by his brilliance, and his research on reanimating dead tissue, but some thought his work was an abomination.

You were still his best kept secret. He worked hard to keep the details of your life and your whereabouts hidden, but eventually you wondered if someone would find you. You were the only human proof that his methods worked, but bringing your story to light would only put you at risk. You no longer went by your birth name and everyone called you Dove. He referenced you in public as his niece, and no one seemed to be asking any questions, at least not that you were aware of.

“He’s wearing that tie we picked out for him,” Eddie noted proudly.

When Bela finished her cereal and flew off to her perch near the window, you scooted into the nook made by Eddie’s open arm, smooching him before resting your head on his shoulder. He had his knees spread wide, taking your hand the second it was close enough.

“I missed you tonight,” he mumbled into the side of your head.

“I work at the bar until late tomorrow.” You snuggled closer, putting our leg over his. “You could pick me up and we could go steal cars together. I’d like to watch you work.”

It’d been a month since the first time you were intimate, and diving into a relationship felt like second nature. You’d talked to Bob about letting you have more night shifts instead of working during the day, and he was enthusiastically understanding, clapping his hands together to rub them back and forth conspiratorially. “I smell a romance blossoming.”

Eddie came in one time for a drink at the bar and Argyle said, “dude, it’s weird to see you not all grumpy and sulking.” And then Eddie caught your eye from across the room and gave you a little wiggle of his fingers, unable to wipe the permanent smile off of his face.

For the first time you really felt like you’d found a home somewhere. But also, there were things happening that were truly…odd.

In the sock draw in your bedroom, you found a few polaroids you didn’t remember taking.

One was of a hearse that was the same make/model as yours, but it was solid black instead of black with white pinstriping. Another was of what looked like Vein on Main, with Bob waving at you from the doorway. The neon in the floor to ceiling window said Main Vein. Had it been remodeled before you came to work there? But if so, how had you been the one to snap the photo?

You also found a key on your keyring that did not look familiar. It was smaller than the rest with blunt, jagged teeth.

You showed it to Eddie, thinking it might be to open a glove box or something car related.

He brought it up close for examination, going cross-eyed. “It almost looks like one of those gas cap keys, but your hearse isn’t that old. To a secret diary, maybe?”

“I never write in a diary. You know that.”

“Well,” he sniffed. “Let me put my Columbo hat on and crack this case.”

You could see his mind racing as he took it around the trailer, trying it in any lock he could find, including the front door knob, which was silly, but he had to rule it out.

“Babe, what are you doing down there?” You asked when you walked into the bedroom to find him on his stomach, fishing around under the bed with a flashlight.

“Just ticking all the boxes, my love,” he responded with a grunt. He crawled in more so that you could only see him from the waist down. His butt looked so cute wiggling there, you wanted to pinch it.

“Ah ha!” He exhaled triumphantly, dragging something with him as he scooted back out. “I knew I saw a box under here when I was looking for Dio the other day. By the way, you should really vacuum under there. I think I saw a dust bunny with teeth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you mumbled, arms folded, waiting to see what he caught from the depths of the shadows.

“There,” he jerked a square gray case out by the handle, settling on his knees to wipe his bangs away from his eyes. “The one thing we haven’t checked.”

There were no markings on it, but you saw the tiny silver key hole lock right away, lowering yourself to the carpeted floor next to him. Hard shell case with worn corners as if it had seen quite a few travels. There was a texture to it, and if you closed your eyes, it felt like snakeskin.

“Do you know what’s in it?” His gaze flicked to your profile. “It weighs a ton.”

You turned your head from side to side. “I’ve never seen that case in my life,” and that realization prickled your flesh. “But maybe it was left here by the last tennant?”

“Why would you have the key, though?”

You turned to stare at each other, unsure of what else to say.

“Try it,” he offered you the key, clearing his throat.

“I’d rather you did it.”

“Certainly,” but he said in a voice that mimicked Curly from the Three Stooges.

The key fit, and when he twisted it, the latch clicked, and you held your breath.

“Drumroll,” Eddie flipped the latch up.

“Please just open it.”

He pushed the lid back and the metal hinges creaked.

Jaws unhinged, you both stared at the smoke gray Royal typewriter for a few beats, cocking your heads to the side in tandem.

“A vintage typewriter.” Eddie stated the obvious.

“My mom used to have one like that,” you whispered it under your breath, not even meaning to say it out loud.

“So it is yours?” he waited.

“Um,” you ran the tips of your fingers along the edge. “It must be.”

But, surely you would have remembered lugging that thing around. In your mind's eye, you could see your index finger doing chicken pecks over the keys, but yet couldn’t recall anything you’d written.

“Do you have any paper?” Eddie got to his feet. “We could try it out.”

“In the bottom drawer over there, I think,” pointing to the desk against the wall with three drawers down one side.

He carried the heavy piece of equipment out into the kitchen island to test it, rolling the paper in manually and clicking the typebar until it dinged into place.

Akfj giahkasras va auiwyrg is what he typed.

“There’s a letter missing,” he noted, taking a better look at the metal teeth inside.

“It’s the N,” you said before he could. It was almost as if you knew which letter it would be with your eyes closed. It was stuck, jammed in place.

“I think I know a guy who could fix that,” your boyfriend said softly, wanting to be helpful. “Wonder if some WD-40 would do the trick.”

After Eddie left for an interview at the body shop of a popular vampire car dealership, you stared up at the fan on the ceiling of your bedroom, unable to sleep. Bela was on one of her nocturnal adventures, Dio was back on her window perch at Eddie’s place, and you vibrated there in the loud silence. The night sounds were more menacing, the flap of the loose shingle on the roof suddenly sounded like someone walking around up there.

You were just starting to fade when you heard the click clack of the typewriter keys.

clickityclackclackclickityclack…Whack…DING

Adrenaline surged through your body and your eyes shot open, freezing there while invisible spiders swarmed your flesh.

But then, everything went quiet. A full, creeping silence that made your ears ring.

You held your breath and an owl hooted out in the woods. What if you’d dozed off more than you realized and the sound was part of a dream?

Your gaze shifted slowly to land on the entrance to the hallway, waiting to hear creaking footsteps followed by a figure standing there. Maybe a tall creature with long arms and clawed hands and red eyes that glowed in the dark. After several minutes of nothing, you pulled yourself together, recognized your own strength, and kicked your feet out of bed.

Hands balled into fists, skin buzzing, you padded softly to the mouth of the hallway, keeping to the shadows, out of view of anyone who happened to be standing in the kitchen. Maybe some elves and faeries came to fix the stuck N key.

ClickclickClackclackclick

Slower that time, but someone was definitely out there messing with your shit.

You rolled your back flat against the wall, hiding, thinking of a weapon you could use. The ballpoint pen in the bedside drawer was the only thing you could come up with, and you brandished it like a knife at your ear with the point out.

“Eddie is that you?” Voice wavering, you hovered just beyond the door frame.

The silence only thickened.

You felt that surge of electricity crackle along your muscles and your breathing deepened.

Who needs a pen when you can shoot lightning bolts out of your fingers?

After a sharp intake of breath, you closed the distance between the bedroom and the hallway lightswitch, flicking it on.

You’d been prepared for the worst, possibly some hulking monster with vampire fangs and blood dripping off its claws. Something like your boyfriend but darker, older. Hungrier.

But you were alone in the trailer.

Your heart pumped ice cold blood through your veins as you made sure to check behind the kitchen island.

Nothing. No one.

You lifted your hands up in front of your face to find that there were snaps of electricity idling there, building power in case you needed it. Your eyes darted to each of the windows, thinking one was open or shattered, but everything appeared to be just how you left it before bed.

“Hello?” One more time for good measure. “Eddie, I hope you aren’t fucking with me.”

Still nothing, and you knew in your heart that he wouldn’t fuck with you like that. Tease you and be a brat in other ways, sure, but he’d never make you think there was the threat of an intruder, not after everything.

The closer you inched into the room, the more it became clear that there was writing on the piece of paper rolled into the feed of the typewriter.

Right underneath Eddie’s Akfj giahkasras va auiwyrg was:

Hello Dove

I k ow you ca ’t wrap your head arou d this right ow

But Eddie is i da ger

Nostrils flaring as you read it, you spun around, expecting to find someone standing right behind you.

Nothing. No one.

But then

The keys were moving again, depressed by invisible fingers.

The two of you are o lo ger safe i Hawki s

A memory clicked in your head about the Remington rifle with the M84 scope hidden in the wall in your closet that was loaded with silver bullets. Brass knuckles, hunting knives, and plastic flexi cuffs, among others. You had an arsenal of things for capture and killing.

O ce you have read this you must bur it

A d the replace the paper and await further instructio s

Slowly, you tugged the single piece of paper out of the feeder in one swipe and only hesitated for a moment before aggressively crumpling it up into a ball.

You picked up the yellow lighter near the phone and lit the edge on fire before tossing it into the ceramic sink and watched it turn to charcoal ash.

You’d killed before. Many times. Humans and monsters alike.

…but why did you feel like you were just now realizing that fact?

And now someone was after Eddie.

You fed a fresh sheet of paper in, but after an hour, no new words appeared.

You had no idea how it worked, but wondered if maybe it could function as a two-way conversation.

Your palms were sweating as you poised your fingers over the keys.

“Who are you?” You typed, each letter falling like a brick, almost afraid to know the answer.

Clickclickclick the keys snapped as soon as you finished.

I am you

…….

a other versio of you

but also we are the same

……

When Eddie got home, you’d been watching from the window and leapt into his arms before he could step all the way through the door.

“Fuck, finally,” you said in a slightly whiny tone, unable to help yourself. You’d been sitting there bouncing your knee and letting your anxious thoughts run wild. You’d called the garage, but Gary had no idea where he went and you really wished Eddie would get a beeper.

He returned the embrace, grinning sappily into the side of your neck. “Good to know you didn’t get another boyfriend while I was at work.”

You wouldn’t let him go, it felt too good to be able to touch him, to know he was okay.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, pushing you far enough away so that he could see your face and the water at your lash line. His cold, dead heart ached at the sight. “What’s this all about? Did something happen?”

You let him take his leather off, and then you told him about the Twilight Zone typewriter.

Paper fed into the rubber roller, you both sat staring at it in silence and prickling anticipation. Eddie fed Bela saltine crackers and she ate them messily, snorting every so often as she sucked them down.

“What if we talk to it first,” Eddie suggested, knowing that you had succeeded at that earlier.

“I have so many questions, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

He sat forward on the sofa, his hands in the shape of claws, hovering over the letters. “May I?”

You wet your lips nervously and scooted closer to him. “Sure, be my guest.”

He blew a long breath out of tight lips before wetting them again, eyes darting over the machine.

…..

This is Eddie. Is there a other versio of me there? I’d like to ask him some questio s.

…..

He pulled his hands back as if in a form of surrender, staring at the blank white space.

Nothing happened for what seemed like an hour but was really only 2 minutes and then—-

Eddie is ’t here

……

Your heart rate spiked, and you were about to speak, but then the ghost typing continued.

You eed to fi d Jareth

…..

Eddie is in da ger

You shouted at the piece of machinery then. “Why is Eddie in danger? From who? Enough with the cryptic shit.”

Eddie took the liberty of typing a few words in for you and waited, gnawing at the inside of his cheek..

Another 30 seconds that felt like a million

The Fellowship of the Su

Eddie fell back stiffly on the couch at that, staring blankly at the words.

“What is that last word? Sun? What the hell is the Fellowship of the Sun?”

Even as you asked, you could tell by the look on his face that it was bad.

“They’re a group of religious extremists who think vampires are an abomination and don’t support the new laws that give us rights and let us be a part of society. They don’t think we should exist at all, actually.” He took a deep breath. “They’re pretty dangerous babe.”

“Well I’m pretty dangerous too,” you mumbled, cracking your neck. You ran your hands up and down your face a few times exhaling a ragged groan.

“Wasn’t Jesus a vampire?” You mused more to yourself, but Eddie was quick to shrug and agree that he always thought so.

Your fingers hit heavy as you punched out the words.

Tell me what I eed to do.

For a moment there, you felt utterly foolish and out of body. Talking to some other secret version of you about vampire stealing Jesus freaks on a broken typewriter, of all things? But you had to focus, you didn’t have the luxury of doubting whoever was at the other end of the words.

Other You considered switching you to another timeline again, but too much of that could mess irrevocably with a person’s head. This was the only timeline when your dad lived to be an elderly man, the only timeline when Hopper and Joyce could find their happiness, and those things mattered to you. Both Other You and Current You.

It was also one of the only timelines that you knew of where they eventually discovered a cure for vampirism. That meant Eddie could have the choice to live out a mortal life with you, if he wanted that. A family and daywalking together would all be an option again.

eed to fi d Jareth

Other You repeated, and then: He will k ow what to do

You asked a few more questions over the next hour but did not receive any further communication. Eddie sank back on the couch while you remained hunched forward and he rubbed comforting circles on your back with the palm of his hand.

After staring at one spot on the paper for another few seconds, you settled back against him with a huff, curling one leg over his and wrapping an arm around his chest while your head nestled at his shoulder.

“Do you think we should leave Hawkins?” Your words were the first ones spoken. “Just hit the road and get as far away as we can? Dye our hair, change our names, I don’t care.”

“If you go, I go,” he mumbled into your temple. “But I think the You on the other side of the typewriter has a point. Jareth could hide us in the Upside Down for a while. The fellowship would have a hard time getting to us there. They’re petrified of that place.”

You closed your eyes. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

He grabbed the crook of your knee to pull your leg closer. “Because they hate vampires, baby. They want us all to go Back in the Coffin, as they say.”

“If you go, I go,” you twisted closer, nuzzling the side of his throat.

“Speaking of going,” he groaned, not wanting to face reality. “I need to get underground. The sun will be up in like, ten minutes.”

Ugh, you hated being apart from him for such a long period during the day, especially now that he might be a target. But at least you could put the couch over the door in the floor and always know he was safe as long as you or Bela were around.

He took a few sips of plasma from your wrist while your mouth was on his cock. It was a risk so close to sunrise, but you rolled your tongue around his shaft and flicked it at the tip in a way that had him shivering and moaning your name while you swallowed his cum after only a few minutes.

Breathless, he threw his head back. “Holy shit jesus christ I fucking love you.”

You hopped to your feet, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Okay now we need to get you to bed. Quick quick.”

��That’s okay,” he sighed, unmoving. “I’ll just perish right here.”

“Not on my watch,” you giggled, yanking him up while he fumbled to put his dick back into his jeans.

When he was at the bottom of the hidey hole, you got on your knees at the entrance and held the door, preparing to close it. “I’m not going to work today, so I’ll be here. Shout if you need me.”

“I will,” his eyes seemed to sparkle while he stared up at you, admiring. “I fucking love you.”

“Ditto,” the word put a catch in your throat. Why did it feel like you were saying goodbye to him?

When the darkness finally took him and he sank back to where the mattress was, you shut the carpeted door and then put your hand on it, as if you could still feel his cool flesh through it.

Standing with a weary breath, you moved the couch and thought about the phone calls you needed to make. Hopper, Argyle, and the rest of the vampires and their allies that you were friends with. If Eddie was in danger, perhaps they all were.

You had to call Vein on Main to find out where Jareth was, and they patched you through to Sacrament.

When he picked up on the second ring, he said hello to you before you even said who was calling. Caller ID perhaps? You didn’t have time to wonder.

“I need your help. I think Eddie might be in danger,” you spoke quickly, bursting with urgency.

At the other end, Jareth was as calm as ever. “And this should concern me, why?”

“Does the Fellowship of the Sun ring a bell?”

You could hear the ancient vampire go ridgid. His voice changed, lowering to almost a whisper. “How do you know about them?”

“It’s a long story,” to say the least. “Someone told me I could trust you with this. That you could help us.”

He was so quiet, you wondered if he’d disconnected, but then it sounded like he walked into another room and closed the door. You could no longer hear the rapid techno beat of club music in the background.

“What if getting rid of Eddie was all part of my plan?” He smirked into the phone. “Then I could have you all to myself.”

“Please, Jareth. We don’t have time for this.”

He cleared his throat. “I did hear that the Fellowship were closing in on Hawkins, but they are no match for—”

“I don’t think we should underestimate them,” you said softly. “Could we meet up later tonight? After sunset? There is something I need to discuss with you, but not over the phone.”

You wondered if you should tell him about the magical typewriter and the version of you from a parallel life.

What if there was a chance he already knew about it?

“Come after your shift, around 3,” he said. “I’ll ask Maxine not to hassle you at the door, but no promises.”

After the phone call, you turned on the news to see the female President of the Vampire Coalition arguing with a man who was a pastor from the Fellowship of the Sun.

“You vermin don’t belong here in our streets indoctrinating our children with your bloodlust and fornicaiton!” The balding pastor barked. “And we’re going to shine god's light on you and send you back to the hell you came from.”

Sophie Ann Bledsoe, the president of the coalition, had sea blue eyes, a brunette bob of hair, and muted wine lips. She looked like a soccer mom, not a member of the dangerous undead.

“If you’d give me a chance to speak,” she said calmly, watching Pastor Daniels grow red in the face. “I will assure you that we are peaceful, productive members of society—-”

“I won’t listen to this devil!” The pastor turned away, toward the camera, and then a moderator intervened with a few diplomatic words before the broadcast went to a commercial.

You could see rage in that pastor’s eyes: he wanted to wipe vampires off the planet.

But then, the television screen flickered to static and back again.

You swore you saw an image, nothing but an outline, but familiar all the same.

Had there been a voice? Someone whispering your name over the political news broadcast?

You waited, but the flicker never happened again.

Before you bent to click off the set, your head did a slow turn to glance over your shoulder at the typewriter squatting like doom on the coffee table.

Maybe it wasn’t doom, maybe it was hope, and you considered that while the winter sun broke through the trees, blanketed by clouds.

The next place your eyes landed was the hatch in the floor that had yet to be covered up by the wagon wheel sofa. You had a few things to get done that day, but when the sun finally set, you knew you’d be kneeling there, waiting for Eddie to take your hand and be your partner in crime for the evening.

There was something like a memory itching at your brain, but a distant one that belonged to someone else, like an echo in a dark hallway.

A memory of you and Eddie in your trailer, but it was a dark, royal blue, raining with strange particles that looked like snow but danced on the air like fluff from a dandelion. The trees and the grass were dead, and the sky was void of stars, like a bleak landscape painted from a nightmare. The ground split open in places like jagged knife wounds that never healed; they reminded you of your scars.

The Upside Down.

Bela was perched on your shoulder in the vision, and Eddie had a rifle strapped to his back. You needed food and supplies, but you didn’t want him to go alone. The three of you had survived this long, and so together you would stay. You knew the typewriter was hidden safely under the floorboards and you’d come back for it later.

Eddie reached for your hand in the vision and you gave it, mirroring the look of adoration on his face. The two of you were very much in love, but around you there was a sense of horror in the air, edged with a feral determination to survive.

Survive what, exactly?

But then you blinked and the sensory experience was gone.

There was the heavy thud of Bela landing on the roof above you, followed by fumbled rustling and a tiny growl of sorts that made you smile.

You let her in and went over to make some tea, warmed by a sudden calm that everything would be okay and no harm would come to the people you loved.

You’d make sure of it.

#Death Becomes Us #DBU #Eddie Munson #vampire!Eddie #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x reader #True Blood au

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

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Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Friday)

Summary | Your last day alone with Joel should mean you spend it tangled up together, making the most of those last moments you have alone with him. But there are doubts creeping into his mind about what's best and things truly do come to a head.

Word Count | 5.9K

Chapter Warnings | I cannot stress this enough - ANGST. Joel is a little mean in this one but makes up for it I promise. Consumption of food, explicit smut, rough sex, possessive sex, unprotected PiV sex, oral sex (f) receiving, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, breeding kink, the briefest slice of daddy kink.

Authors Note | Well, this was hell of a rollercoaster, wasn't it? Sorry for the sheer spectrum of emotions I'm about to put you through, I can only apologise. I wanted to give a HUGE shoutout to @cupofjoel for letting me brainstorm the ideas for this chapter. Her love for these characters is inspirational and I am so grateful she helped me with these ideas. And thank you to each and every one of you that continues to support this story and who love Joel, Pretty Girl and Tommy as much as I do. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, reblogging or coming into my ask box to scream with me. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The sun is only just starting to rise when Joel wakes the next morning. There’s very little light draining in through the curtains, but he can make your face out perfectly. He thinks if he were to ever go blind, he would have looked at you so much that your face would be permanently burnt onto his brain. He can make out the curve of your cheek, the way your lips are relaxed, and the way you inhale through your nose and blow out the air through your mouth. Not snoring, per se, just another one of your quirks that he loves. Loves just like the rest of you.

He's suspected for a while now that you felt the same as he did, that your feelings for him moved beyond the love you should have for him as your brother-in-law, that you loved him with just as much passion and ferocity that he loved you with, and that was dangerous. He tries to tell himself that it’ll be okay, that when Tommy turns up tomorrow with Joshua, he’ll slink back to the shadows, become Uncle Joel again, and only have you when he has to have you, when he buries himself inside you under the watchful eye of his brother and tries to give you another baby, but he knows it’s futile. He’s never going to be satisfied again.

He drags a frustrated hand over his face, pulse pounding behind his eyes. He wants to roll over, drag your warm body into his and never let you go, wants to keep you here forever, but he knows he can’t be that selfish, so instead, he gently pushes himself up from the bed, lower back screaming at him as he does. He’s behaved liked a horny teenager this whole week, pretending that this bubble of you and him is what real life is like, and not only is he going to pay for it with a broken heart, but he’s also paying for it with real aches and pains shooting through his aging body.

He drags on some clothes, leaves you sleeping soundly in bed, makes a pot of coffee and takes himself outside. He goes to sit down on the bench near the fire pit, but he’s reminded of his confession of a few nights ago. The one where he admitted he fucks another woman but can’t bear to fuck her on her back, because she’s not you. She doesn’t sound like you, but when he’s got her on all fours and he closes his eyes, he can just about convince himself that his cock is dragging in and out of your pussy instead. She’s a nice woman, he doesn’t deny it, and he knows he’s fucking her over by keeping her hanging. He makes a mental note to call her when he gets back and call things off.

His feet take him to the water’s edge, where he thinks back to yesterday, pressing you against that wood of the jetty, fucking into you, even though he knows you were sore, because you were just that desperate for him, that desperate for another child. He almost walks away to find somewhere else to sit, but then realises this entire fucking place is just full of the memories of him and you, he’s not going to find somewhere that you don’t permeate his thoughts.

He sits on the gravel of the shore, listening as the wind brings gentle waves of the lake crashing near him. The warmth of the coffee mug is burning into his skin, but he doesn’t move to set it down – the pain reminds him that he’s alive, that he can feel things. He just doesn’t know what to do with it.

He thinks about Tommy. About how he trusted him with this sacred thing, with holding and touching his wife to give them a family, to give them their dream, and how he took that trust in his hand and fucking crumbled it to dust, falling in love with her and letting her fall in love with him. He thinks it’s kind of poetic really, because ever since they were boys, growing up in Texas with their parents, they’ve shared mostly everything. Bedrooms, cars, the weight of their parent’s dying, looking after Sarah when she was younger and her mom had left, and they’d done it without falling out, without ruining their relationship. Now, the one thing they really shouldn’t have shared is going to change it all. He’s convinced when Tommy see’s the two of them he’s going to know something has changed, he’s going to be angry, he’s going to take you back for himself and that’ll be it, so he has to do it first. Joel cannot lose his brother, cannot lose this part of his family that means so much to him.

Despite you saying you could fix it, that you had a plan, that he would trust you, he just cannot see it, cannot see a way where someone doesn’t get hurt. He’s the big brother here, the one who should be sensible, so he knows this is it. He’ll give you this baby and that’ll be it, because if he continues to cash in this one night he gets to have with you a year, he’s only going to end up hurting you both, hanging on to this hope that maybe, one day, he’ll have more. He has to be the bigger man, so no matter how much it’s going to hurt, he’s got to give you up.

When you wake, much like yesterday morning, you’re alone. You reach over to the empty side of the bed, arms under the covers, but unlike yesterday, Joel’s side of the bed is cold, which means he’s been awake for much longer than he had been yesterday. You roll onto your back, listening out for any sign of him, the padding of his feet in the kitchen, the sound of the shower in the bathroom, but it’s silent, save for the rustling of the trees in the wind from outside.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking back to last night. To the way you’d opened your heart to him, finally. God, you loved him something fierce. Loved him in a way that made you hurt. You finally said it out loud, spoke the love you felt to him into existence. Whenever you’ve said it before, you could almost convince yourself that it was the kind of love it should have been, familial and warm, but there was no denying it anymore. This love was like fire, burning inside you, threatening to burn out of control if you didn’t do something about it.

Joel had placed his heart in your hands, asked you not to break his heart, and by God you were going to try and keep it whole. Cradle it in your hands, nurture it, keep it safe. The plan was tenuous at best and you knew it, but Tommy needed to know. You had to tell him. You would, before this week was out, you were going to fix this.

You had one more day though, one more day of being wrapped up with Joel, and you’d be damned if you were going to waste it. You drag yourself out of bed, picking out some comfortable clothes – one of Joel’s t-shirts that smells like him, and your sweatpants. You head to the kitchen, there’s still no sign of Joel. You pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot, tip some creamer into it, when you spot him.

He's stood at the edge of the water, skimming stones across the lake. His broad frame sticking out against the foliage and the water. Almost like he can sense you’re watching him, he turns around. You smile over the lip of your coffee mug, raising a hand to wave at him, but he doesn’t wave back, just turns back around and continues skimming stones across the water.

It hurts, the cold shoulder he gives you. After spilling your hearts to one another last night, the way he fucked you like you were the last person on earth and your time was running out, and now this? You suck in a deep breath, damping down the flare of anger that spreads through you. He doesn’t get to do this, you think, not now, not today. You finish your coffee, eyes still trained on the way his back pulls and flexes as he throws his stones. Maybe he just needs time, is what you think, some space, where you aren’t constantly crowding him, constantly in his presence.

You settle on the couch, TV playing low for background noise as you try and focus on the book you’re reading. You think you lie there for hours, watching the sun move across the sky, but he still doesn’t come to you.

Your stomach growls and you think if you’re hungry, he must be as well, so you make BLT sandwiches, his favourite, and you take them down to the shore where he’s just sitting, looking out onto the water. You sit down next to him, close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but with enough distance to not crowd his space. You hand the plate to him, and thankfully he takes it, setting it between his feet, picking up one half of the sandwich to start eating.

It's silent except for the sound of you both eating and for the first time ever, it’s a little awkward. Not the usual, comfortable silence where neither of you have anything to say but are content to just be in each other’s company. You both have plenty to say to each other and you both know it as well, but neither of you want to make the first move.

“You alright?” You ask softly, deciding it’s better to just get this over and done with.

His response is short, “I’m fine.”

You sigh, frustration bubbling under your skin, “You certainly don’t seem fine.”

“I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing.” He won’t look at you, eyes continuing to face to water.

“The right thing,” You scoff, shaking your head, “What happened to trusting me?”

He’s quiet for a moment and you’re sure if you listened hard enough you could hear his brain working to come up with his answer, “It just ain’t right,” He speaks quietly, “You ain’t mine to keep.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” You hiss, “I hate to break it to you Joel, but that isn’t just your decision to make, there’s two of us here.”

“I’m tryin’ to make it easier, make sure no-one gets hurt.”

“You’re hurting me right now,” You point out, because he is, this distance is cleaving you in two, “And you’re going to hurt yourself too,” You reach out and touch his arm with your hand, glad that he doesn’t flinch away from you, “The only person who doesn’t get hurt is Tommy if you keep going like this.”

“You’ll be okay though,” He mumbles, placing his big hand over your own on his arm, “He’s good to you, you’ve got your family, you don’t need me.”

“Stop it!” You wail, “Don’t say that about yourself,” Lifting yourself to your knees next to him, hand on his shoulder to try and get him to look at you, “I will always need you Joel, do you understand me?” You grab his chin in your hand, tugging him to look at you, his eyes just as glassy as your own, “Why are you doing this?”

“What’s your master plan, huh?” He asks, suddenly talking louder, more commanding, “You gonna ask him to share you? Let his brother have you whenever he wants? That how you’re gonna fix this?”

“Don’t fucking patronise me,” You accuse, pushing him with your hands, using the momentum so you can stand, “You promised to trust me Joel, promised me you’d let me fix this, what happened to that?”

“I just don’t see how we could ever fix this.”

“You’re unbelievable,” You spit, “For once in your life could you stand to make yourself happy?!”

“Not if it means hurtin’ Tommy,” He shakes his head, “Should never’a let ourselves get so caught up in this.”

“Joel, stop it,” You’re crying now, because it sounds like he’s telling you this is it, that he’s through, that it’s been a mistake, that he regrets it, and you can’t bear that, he’s standing up now too, towering over you, “I love you, doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Of course it does,” He murmurs, “I love you too, but it was never meant to happen like this, we were never meant to love each other this much.”

“So that’s it, we break our hearts because you’re scared to ask for what you want?” You sniffle, trying to dampen down your tears, keep things together, “Scared to let me fight for us?”

“There ain’t no way any good is going to come from this.” He motions his hand between the two of you.

It’s like a punch to the gut when the words leave his mouth, because it’s a total lie. Your beautiful son came from this. The happiest years of your life came from this, and you’re pretty sure Joel’s happiest years came from this too.

“So that’s it then?”

He doesn’t answer this time, just shakes his head and sighs, moving to turn away from you, so you swivel on your heel, rubbing your hands furiously over your cheeks to wipe away your tears. You make sure to slam the door to the lodge behind you, sure that Joel can hear your anger. You walk straight through the lodge and into the bedroom, throwing yourself down on the bed, face planted in his pillow.

You wrap your arms around it, taking in a single deep breath of his scent before you scream into the pillow, sobs soon following as you let out your frustration and anger and heartbreak. Why did life have to do this to you? Why did it have to throw you down this path, desperate to have a family with a man who simply couldn’t? In this moment you curse Tommy for suggesting this whole stupid fucking arrangement and for being so kind and understanding and only ever wanting to make you and his brother happy. Curse your own heart for being so easy to fall, eager to love, and you curse Joel Miller for taking that easy and eager heart and being reckless with it. He asked you not to break his heart, yet here he is breaking yours.

Joel knew almost immediately he’d fucked up. The way your bottom lip had wobbled as you turned to walk away from him, the way you slammed the door, and the way that two hours later, when the wind was too cold and he walked back to the lodge, he could still hear you crying in the bedroom. What a fucking mess he’s caused. Trying his best to not hurt anyone, and here you are, crying into a pillow because of him.

He’d wanted nothing more than to push that door open, get down on his hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness. Take your hands in his and pray for you to forgive him. He stays in the living room, thumbing through the book you’d been reading, watching some random sports game on the tv, until he couldn’t hear you crying anymore. He’s panicking, can feel that familiar tightness in his chest at the mess he’s made, not quite sure what to do. His brain is telling him to stay where he is, to stick to the plan – it hurts now, but maybe tomorrow when Tommy and Joshua arrive, and Sarah is here, it won’t seem so bad. On the other hand though, his heart is telling him to move, to go to you, scoop you into his arms and make it all better.

Joel Miller is a weak man where you’re concerned, and he cannot bear the hurt he’s caused, can’t stand that he’s the reason you’ve spent that last day you could have had together in tears, shut in the bedroom because he pushed you away. He stands, brain going into fix-it mode. He toasts some bread, spreads a thick layer of butter on it and covers it in jam, just like he knows you like it. He makes you a cup of tea with a splash of milk. Steeling himself outside the door, he taps his foot to it, mainly to let you know he’s coming in rather than looking for permission to enter.

The room is faintly lit by the bedside lamp on your side of the room. You’re led on the bed, curled into a tight ball on one side. He’d have thought you were sleeping if he didn’t know you better – if he didn’t know exactly how you slept – the exact cadence of your breathing and the way your body went lax when you finally nodded off. You’re facing away from him when as he walks over, places the steaming mug and the plate of food next to the lamp. He sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching over to grip your wrist, pulling you up like a ragdoll and into his arms. You’re a dead weight as he wraps your arms around his neck, his own resting around your back as he nuzzles his face into the warmth of your neck.

He can’t look at you right now, knows it’ll break his heart, but he revels in the way that you tighten your arms around him. That’s a good first step, he thinks. He lets his lips press softly to the delicate skin of your neck, not in a way that it usually does when he’s trying to turn you on though.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl.” Is all he can really think to say in this moment, but it’s poor, and he knows it.

He pulls away from you slightly, glancing at your face as he does. He was right, it does break his heart. The skin of your face is blotchy from the tears you’ve cried, eyes red and bloodshot, you look exhausted, and the heaviness in your bones is testament to that. He reaches over and picks up the steaming mug, holding it out to you as a sort of peace offering. You take it in your hands, blowing the steam away lightly before taking a sip, hissing when the hot liquid burns down your throat.

In any other circumstance, he’d laugh, press a kiss to the tip of your nose and tell you to be patient, but he’s likely going to get slapped if he tries to lighten the mood like that right now, so instead, he takes one of the slices of toast, cut into a triangle and holds it to your mouth.

You shake your head, “Not hungry.” Your voice is hoarse.

“Just a bite,” Joel implores, “I made it just how you like it.”

You don’t look at him, your eyes trained directly on the cup in your hand, but you nod lightly. His hand moves the slice of toast close enough to your mouth that all you need to do is lean forward and take a bite, which you do. He watches as you chew and then swallow and is quietly relieved when you lean forward and take another bite. He doesn’t force the other slice on you, leaves it where it is so you can have it if you want it. Instead, he lets his hand drop to your knee, warm and comforting as you sip at the tea again.

You set it down on the nightstand, finally accepting it’s too hot right now, and Joel is surprised when you turn and throw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder, crying once again.

“Oh pretty girl,” He coos, one hand resting at the nape of your neck to keep you anchored to him, the other around your lower back, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He’s rocking you back and forth, gently, trying to soothe you as you cry into him, fighting back his own tears as well. He can hear you mumbling something into his shoulder, but he can’t make out what it is.

He gently pushes you forward, “What was that, baby?”

You shake your head, sniffle again, as a fresh wave of tears start falling, but you manage to get out what he had missed you saying earlier, before you’re falling back into the comfort of his shoulder, “I love you so much, Joel.”

His hand is resting on the back of your head as you hold onto him tight, “I know, pretty girl, I love you too,” He dips down, lips pressed to the top of your head, “I’m so sorry,” He speaks again, “Please forgive me.”

You pull back from him, moving to wipe your tears away, but Joel moves quicker, palms resting on your cheeks as his thumbs brush away the drops from your face. He’s looking at you now, his beautiful, sad eyes, trained on your own, “Do you regret it?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head, “Of course not, baby,” He leans forward, kissing your cheek softly, “I could never.”

You try and shake your head, but his hands are keeping your face still, “Then w-why,” You falter a little, hiccupping over your words, “Why d-did you say n-nothing good could come of t-this?”

He swallows, because he was wrong. So fucking wrong to say that, to say anything that he said to you earlier. He was frustrated but most of all he was scared, and he hurt you and now he’s not sure he can actually salvage this.

“I was scared, pretty girl,” Joel admits, “I’m scared of how much I love you and what would happen if I can’t have you anymore, and I thought it would be easier, y’know? Easier if I just tried to pull away, get you back where you belong with Tommy, but I didn’t mean it, I promise I didn’t mean it.”

“We made a baby,” You sniffle, “He’s something good.”

“Oh, pretty girl, you’re breakin’ my heart,” Joel sighs, God he wants to make this better somehow, “Everythin’ about this is good, I’m just a mean old man sometimes.”

Your hands are circling his wrists now, anchoring yourself to him, your eyes looking straight into his own, like you’re searching his very soul for any ounce of regret. He’s hoping you’ll see the truth, that he doesn’t regret this relationship with you, only his words from earlier.

“Will you let me fix this?” You ask, “Will you let me speak to Tommy?”

“If you think it’ll help, pretty girl, I’ll let you do anythin’.”

You seem satisfied with his answer, because all of a sudden, you’re surging forward and kissing him. Lips soft and gentle against his as he presses his hands into your face a little harder, just to make sure you’re real, that this is what you want. You open your mouth against his, letting your tongue into his mouth, his working against your own as you let out a throaty moan, swallowing it down into his own mouth as he shifts you both, laying you down onto the sheets on your back.

“You gonna let me make it up to you, pretty girl?” He murmurs, pulling back just a touch from your mouth, “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?”

You nod, but he doesn’t move, he’s waiting for your permission, “Please,” You whine, lifting your hips into his, feeling him already semi-hard in his pants, “Make me feel good Joel.”

So he does. He reaches his warm hands under his shirt that you're wearing, pulling it up and over your head. Your chest is bare underneath it, you didn’t bother with a bra today, mainly because you’d imagined you’d be spending most of it naked anyway. He trails his hot mouth down from your neck, kissing the skin between the valley of your tits, before he’s sucking one into his mouth. Your fingers tangle into his curls, keeping his head right there as he flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue, pulling it into a stiff peak before he lavishes it with the attention of the flat of his tongue. He pulls his mouth from you, switching sides to your other breast – callused thumb working the nipple from before as he gives the same attention to this one, all whilst you’re grinding your hips up into him, friction causing a pool of wetness to gather between your thighs.

Once he feels like he’s worked you up enough here, he pulls away, wrapping his hands around your wrists to drag your hands to your tits. He settles your hands on them, looking up at you through hooded eyes as he drags his tongue over the skin of your tummy, “Play with them,” He demands, “Use your fingers on those perfect tits whilst I eat your pussy, pretty girl.”

You do as you’re told, rolling your nipples between your thumb and pointer finger as he drags your sweatpants off your legs. You spread your own legs for him as he settles between you, his mouth licking gently over your folds, before he’s using two fingers to spread the lips of your pussy, baring your aching cunt to his face.

“Dripping fuckin’ wet for me already, darlin’,” He growls, biting into the soft skin of your thigh, sucking to leave a mark, “Always so fuckin’ eager for my cock, ain’t ya?”

Fuck, you love it when he’s like this. When his need to fuck you, to mark you, takes over, when he’s possessive with you, when he’s rough with you. When he uses his mouth and teeth to mark you as his own, even if you’re not, not really, not fully.

You buck your hips into his face, silently begging for him to make you feel good. He splays a wide palm over your tummy, pressing you down into the mattress to keep you still, as his warm tongue slips inside your hole, licking the slick that’s been gathering there for him. You get off on this, the way he laps at you, tasting you, groaning into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. He drags that perfect tongue all the way up your pussy, giving one singular flick to your clit with the tip of his tongue before he’s plunging two of his fingers into your cunt. You arch your back off the bed, crying out as he fucks you with his fingers, tip of his tongue teasingly flicking against that bundle of nerves. He’s rough with it, the way his fingers pound into you, but you don’t care. Let it hurt, is what you think, let me carry this delicious pain and ache with me for days so I can remember him like this.

He's pushing you so fast towards that edge. That knot that is pulled so tight inside you threatening to push you over the edge as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

“Oh fuck!” You exclaim, hands squeezing at your tits, “Joel, I’m-” You let out a high-pitched squeal, muscles clenching around his fingers, “Gonna come.”

He doesn’t bother to respond to you, just carries on exactly as he is until you’re literally screaming his name into the room. You push down onto his fingers and finally feel that tight rope snap inside of you, pleasure bursting at the base of your spine, throttling through the rest of your body like wildfire. You’re half aware of the fact you’re soaking the sheets as you continue to writhe your hips against his mouth. He’s pulling away from you, slipping his fingers from you, chuckling in that way that he does when he’s proud of himself.

“Fuckin’ love when you squirt for me, pretty girl,” He growls against the skin of your tummy as he trails his mouth back up your body, he’s pushing the two fingers he had inside you past your lips when he’s level with your face, smirking as you clean yourself off him, “Gonna let me fuck you now?” He asks, you moan in response around his fingers, “Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl, give you all the babies you want.”

He pulls back enough to drag his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him, pushing his own sweatpants down his legs, kicking them off to the bottom of the bed, letting his throbbing cock free. He’s settling between your thighs, your own hand reaching down to grip him, guiding him to your aching cunt. He swats your hand away, hands gripping the headboard above you as he pushes into you.

You let out a gasp as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. He never fails to take your breath away when he’s inside you, slotting into you perfectly, stretching you just right. You’re so full of him, his body crowding over you from above as he starts dragging himself in and out of you. It’s rough, and it’s fast, he’s desperately trying to tell you that he’s sorry, that he’s built just for this, put on this earth to give you everything you wanted whilst making you feel good.

“I can’t,” Joel chokes out, “I can’t be gentle with you, pretty girl.”

You know, because he’s splitting you right open down the middle, both hands gripping the headboard as his hips slam into yours. He’s so fucking deep, his cock punching right into the depths of you. Your hands, settled on his sides, grind into his skin, nails digging in so hard you’re sure you’re going to puncture his skin, draw blood.

“D-don’t care Joel,” You manage to speak, before a particularly loud wail leaves your mouth, “Just… don’t fucking stop.”

And he doesn’t. Looking up at him, he’s like a man possessed. He’s fucking you so hard, so good, that you’re crying, tears of mixed pleasure and pain rolling down your cheeks as he tries to prove how sorry he really is, how much he regrets what he did, what he’s said. He was a fool to think he could get away with his attitude, and he will stay here, cock buried inside you for as long as he must to prove his remorse to you.

His low, rough grunts are mixing with your needy moans. He drops down, body pressed right to yours. He finds your hands at his sides, brings them up above your head, his fingers tangled in your own as his mouth bites and sucks at the skin of your neck, along your collarbone, leaving marks across your perfect skin, marking you as his own.

“You my good girl?” He rasps into your ear, breath hot against you as he uses his tongue to literally lick the salty tears from your face, “Cryin’ on my cock like a good girl, huh?”

“A-always Joel,” You mewl as he shifts your bodies slightly, his cock brushing against that spot inside you, making you cry out, “Always your good girl.”

“I know you are, pretty girl,” He grunts into your ear, “Mine, aren’t you?”

And you agree, because fuck it, you are. You are his. You’ve been his since the first time he knelt between your legs and asked Tommy how you liked it. You might be Tommy’s girl first, but you’re just as much Joel’s as you are Tommy’s. They both lay claim to you, both own you in some way, and you’re perfectly okay with that.

“Fuck, Joel,” You hiss quietly, turning your head so your cheek is pressed against his where he’s settled his face in the crook of his neck, “Please,” You beg, “Please come inside me.”

“You want me to fill you up, mama?” He asks, hips still bruising against yours, the slap of his skin on yours, the wet squelch of your pussy around him filling the room.

“Give me my baby, daddy,” You almost whisper to him, hands squeezing his where they’re still entwined above your head, “Let go for me, Joel.”

He pulls out of you abruptly, manhandling you with a roughness you’re not used to so you’re on your front. His hands pull at your hips, angling your ass up for him as he’s pounding straight back into you. He’s gathered your hands at the small of your back, your face pressed into the mattress. This new angle mean’s he’s driving into you in a completely different way as before, and you have to push your face further into the sheets, so your screams are muffled. Joel doesn’t like that though, his drags his fingers through your hair, fisting it tightly, pulling you up, so your screams of pleasure are echoing around the room.

“Don’t you dare,” He growls, “Don’t you dare hide these sounds from me, pretty girl.”

This angle is new. Your hands are gathered in one of his at your back, his other hand tangled in your hair means you’re arched off the bed for him, and you think if you could reach a hand down, you’d be able to feel him in your stomach he’s so fucking deep inside you.

It happens all of a sudden, he’s so fucking still, but you can feel him pouring himself into you, you can hear him spitting your name and a string of profanities as he lets go of the tight grip he has on your hair. He’s buried so deep inside you, his front draped over your back, the entire weight of him on your body, but he’s trying to push himself deeper into you, trying to get what he’s just planted inside of you to take. He’s just as desperate as you are for this, to see you swell with his baby again.

Once his brain is working again, he slips from inside of you, collapsing onto the bed on his back, dragging you with him. He pulls you so close, his thighs spread wide so your body fits between them, your front pressed against his as you drape you entire self on him. He grabs your hands, bringing the wrists he was just gripping to his lips, kissing softly at the skin to soothe you.

“Too much?” He mumbles into the top of your head, his chest heaving against yours as you both try and catch your breath.

“Just enough.” You mumble back into the sweat-soaked skin of his chest.

It’s silent for a moment, both of you drifting in a haze of pleasure and exhaustion, but he speaks again as he wraps those arms around you, anchoring you right where you are, “I will spend the rest of my life proving how sorry I am to you.”

“I believe you,” You muse, “I will always believe you.”

And that’s how you both fall asleep, his arms cradling you to his body. He wishes that he could freeze time, enjoy this for longer than the few seconds he has before you fall asleep. He’s sick of your time always running out, of that ticking clock counting down to the unknown. He has no idea what’s going to happen once this weekend is over. Has no idea what you’re going to say to Tommy, what you’re going to propose to him. He’s never been good at relinquishing control, especially when he can’t for the life of him tell what’s going to happen. But, if there’s one thing he does know, it’s that what he said to you last night is true. That he trusts you with his life, and he will follow you blindly into whatever abyss you’re going to drag him into.

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