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cherienymphe · 11 hours ago

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Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Your brother comes up with a way to make fast money when you've found yourself deep in debt.

warnings: stepcest, loss of virginity, breeding kink, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

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You took deep breaths through your nose as Rafe instructed, lashes fluttering at the foreign and indescribable feel of his cock sliding between your wet folds. Your knees touched your chest, the soles of your feet pressed against Rafe’s own chest, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze focused on where he disappeared into you.

When your brother came up from Kildare County to visit you for the first time this semester…

This was not what you had in mind.

Blood related or not, Rafe had never been anything but the older brother you were blessed with when your mom married his dad all those years ago. He was a little rough around the edges—always had been—and you knew that his behavior with you was the exception, not the norm, but it never occurred to you that his reasoning behind that went beyond familial affection. Why would it?

He treated you like any normal brother would.

He scared off boys who were a little too bold with their interest in you, he sometimes let you sleep in his bed when the thunder outside got to be too much, and he didn’t think twice about picking you up from some party you weren’t supposed to be at. You knew he’d do the same for Wheezie if she asked. Sarah was the only exception for less than enviable reasons.

…maybe Ward’s favoritism of Sarah contributed to your own soft spot for Rafe.

Anyone with eyes could see it no matter how much Sarah liked to pretend otherwise, and there’d been so many times you felt sorry for the oldest Cameron. No, he wasn’t perfect by any means, and yes, sometimes he absolutely deserved the verbal lashing from Ward, but you’d be a fool to deny the absolute disregard Ward gave Rafe even when he did try.

Rafe just wasn’t anyone’s favorite.

…so he became yours.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked up at him, and his gaze lifted from your breasts to meet your gaze.

“Like this?” you breathlessly wondered, a hand on your chest, massaging a hardened bud between your fingers.

“Don’t ask me,” Rafe purred, his free hand joining yours. “Does it feel good?”

The nod you gave him was shaky, and you watched Rafe’s tongue dart between his lips. He dipped his hips a tad when he thrust into you, making you gasp at the feel of his cock hitting something inside of you that you didn’t know was there. When he shined the camera light in your face briefly, you turned your head.

“Sorry,” he choked out, but he didn’t sound all that sorry. “I’ll blur that out.”

His thrusts had your toes curling, and you pushed your feet against his chest.

“I don’t…I don’t want Ward or someone else to find this and know it was me,” you struggled to say, breath hitching when Rafe slammed into you.

Rafe replied after some time.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he whispered. “They won’t.”

Angel.

It was funny how a normal nickname that you were used to hearing all the time sounded so different, now. Of course, all the other times, Rafe had never been inside of you. He’d been dropping you off somewhere or convincing you to do the dishes instead or looking for you the minute he woke up at twelve in the afternoon. Now, with Rafe plunging his cock into you, the sound of it made you shudder.

“It’s kind of crazy how fitting that nickname is,” Sarah said one day. “…because I swear you’re the only one that can actually get Rafe to behave.”

You both chuckled at the comment, but now you were doing anything but laughing.

Your free hand trailed down to touch yourself, and Rafe made a noise of approval at the action.

His hand left your breast to cover yours between your legs, guiding your fingers and rubbing them over your bundle of nerves. The feeling—when combined with his thrusts—made you flutter around him, and Rafe let out a deep moan. It went straight to your stomach, loving the sound, and you looked up at him.

His gaze wasn’t on you anymore, and as you stared at him, you were surprised how weird you didn’t feel about this.

Going off to UNC had sparked varying reactions in your household. Rose was only happy for you, Wheezie too, but both Sarah and Ward held some concerns you never even knew they had. Something about your sheltered upbringing and wondering if you were ready. You’d been offended, of course. After all, going off to college had always been the plan and Ward knew that, so being treated like some child baffled you.

However, you were even more baffled when Rafe didn’t back you up.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked him the day you got your acceptance letter. “You don’t want me to go…?”

Even though Rafe was silent for a long time, you could see it on his face.

He didn’t want you to go.

“It’s so far-.”

“It’s four hours,” you’d interrupted, in disbelief that Rafe of all people was not on your side.

“It’s far enough.”

You remembered thinking how much he resembled a child—pouting—and you’d huffed. You hadn’t been able to stop the tears from kissing your eyes, and you’d folded your arms over your chest.

“Why aren’t you happy for me?” you’d asked in a small voice.

That had Rafe looking up, and you didn’t miss the way his face fell with one look at your own.

“I am,” he’d assured you. “I’m so happy for you, but… What if something goes wrong? What if some asshole gets too aggressive with you? I’m not going to be there to pick you up from parties and hold your hand when a hurricane comes through.”

You’d looked down, shifting on your feet.

“I know that, Rafe…but I’m an adult, now. I have to figure things out for myself.”

You could tell he hadn’t liked that answer, but despite how much Rafe made it clear that he didn’t want you to go, he did help you pack before the semester started. He’d also helped you move in with Ward and Rose’s help, surprising them both.

“Don’t think I won’t be dropping in unannounced.”

Rose had scolded him that day, but you’d only rolled your eyes. You were used to Rafe’s protectiveness, and as much as you desired independence, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the thought of Rafe visiting you on campus.

…and visit you, he did.

It was almost admirable, really, the way he managed to swoop in at some of the most inconvenient times. The night you were considering going to some party or the night you’d gotten locked out of your house or the time your roommate had guys over. The memory of that evening still weighed on your chest, recalling the way Rafe hovered and the way the guy you were supposed to be set up with was forced to keep his distance.

“You were scaring him,” you’d whined later that night.

“…and you want a guy that jumpy?” he’d snorted, taking off his shirt and relaxing on your bed.

Rafe had overstayed his welcome and had no choice but to stay the night. Granted, a hotel was always an option, but you would’ve felt shitty making him book a hotel when you had a perfectly fine queen-sized bed.

“If some chump is that intimidated by your big brother, then he isn’t the one for you,” he’d whispered in the dark as you faced him. “You’re the kind of girl who needs looking after.”

The words had soured in your mind, and you hadn’t responded.

You hated that Rafe saw you that way—that almost everyone did—but it was only some months later when you were forced to admit that maybe Rafe was right. Being so far away from home for an extended period of time for the first time in your life clearly got to your head. You found yourself confronted with so much temptation and opportunities.

Before you knew it, you’d maxed out two credit cards and was struggling to make ends meet with the extra money Ward and Rose were sending you. The day your payment was declined while in some fancy store was burned into your brain, and you hadn’t even realized how much debt you’d collected until you were on the phone with a representative from the company.

The whole situation sucked, but more than anything, it sucked that you proved everyone right.

Especially Rafe.

So, when he unexpectedly showed up on your doorstep this morning, you wanted to be sick.

“Rafe,” you’d breathed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The blond had silently stood at your door, expression unreadable, and it had taken him a minute to finally reply.

“You never know I’m coming,” he’d drawled, brushing by you. “What makes this time so different?”

“No reason,” you’d hurried to say.

You suspected then that he caught onto something being wrong, but you’d forced yourself to write it off. Despite engaging in conversation with you, you hadn’t missed the way Rafe strode about your place, those blue eyes of his taking everything in with an attention to detail you weren’t used to.

“So, why are you here?” you’d wondered.

Your question gave him pause, and you hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes then.

“What…?” he’d asked, nearing you. “I can’t drop in on my baby sister and see how she’s doing?”

He’d held your gaze with an intensity you weren’t used to, and you’d looked away.

“No, of course, you can. I was just…curious.”

You should’ve known that Rafe knew more than he let on when he opened your fridge and merely hummed at the lack of food in it. For obvious reasons, you didn’t protest when he suggested ordering food, and it was when you found yourself leaning against the counter with a handful of pizza did he finally drop the bomb.

“You’re lucky I pay more attention to the mail than they do.”

His biting words were accompanied with the slam of a few envelopes on the counter, and your heart dropped when you realized what they were—credit card statements. His hands on the counter caged you in, but you could hardly move anyway with how much shock you were in, flipping through them all with parted lips.

It didn’t take him long to start tearing into you.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that at the very least, I should’ve moved up here with you,” he’d sneered.

“Are you going to tell Ward?” you’d tearfully asked him. “If he knew how much I messed up he’d cut me off so fast.”

“He probably should,” Rafe had told you with a frown, making your tears spill over.

He’d softened some at the sight of them, and you’d collapsed on the couch.

“I didn’t even realize I’d been spending so much,” you cried to him. “…and I keep trying to get a job to fix this but I just can’t get hired anywhere.”

At your rambling, Rafe had knelt before you, his hands on your knees as he shushed you. You’d struggled to hold his gaze as he wiped your face, trying to calm you down. When your breathing settled some, Rafe took your hand.

“I can’t imagine you behind somebody’s counter, anyway,” he’d softly said, thumb grazing your skin. “Breaking your back and coming home exhausted. You need to be focused on school.”

“…but Rafe-.”

His hand gently landing on your mouth had you swallowing your words, and you’d blinked at him as he traced patterns into your skin.

“Look, I know how to get you money—plenty of it and fast.”

His words had given you pause, making you perk up some.

“…but you’ll have to trust me,” he’d murmured.

You did trust Rafe, with your whole heart, but his next words still made your heart drop.

“Rafe…I don’t think I can do this,” you found yourself whispering an hour or so later, swallowing at his gentle grip on your throat. “

…besides, we… I mean…”

You didn’t have to finish voicing your thoughts, troubled gaze meeting his.

“It’s just a little way to make you fast money. It’s not like anyone will know it’s us…” he’d murmured, lips brushing yours. “…and it’s not like we’ll be running the risk of accidentally having questionable children or something.”

You knew what he meant, understood what he was getting at, but it still felt…wrong to you. Or at least, like it should be. Rafe had never been anything other than the brother you met years ago, and here he was, kissing you and convincing you to let your first time be with him…and on camera, no less.

“People love that amateur porn shit,” were his oh so eloquent words.

Despite how you initially felt about it, you still found yourself on your back and bent at the edge of your bed while Rafe stood before you, phone in hand. His words of encouragement filled your ears as he circled your clit with his thumb, the head of his cock slowly pushing into you. He’d had his face between your thighs for some time before that, telling you he needed to get you nice and ready for him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he’d hissed as he continued to push his way into you.

When he was flush with you, both of your chests heaving, he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“You okay, angel?”

It wasn’t as painful as you always expected it to be—you surmised that had more to do with Rafe than anything—but there was still a dull painful ache accompanied by the burn of being stretched out. At your shaky nod, Rafe merely gave you a half smile, leaning over to kiss you before straightening and starting a torturously slow pace.

“Do you hear how wet you are? Hmm?”

You could, and you might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the look on Rafe’s face.

“So wet…and tight…and all mine,” he breathed, the phone light bright as it shone on where you greedily sucked him in with every thrust. “She’s dripping for me.”

You felt like you were in a blissful daze, lying there and taking his thrusts. Rafe had a way with words and making you squirm from more than just the feel of him stuffing you full.

“They’d pay big money to see me fill you up, angel.”

You slowly blinked at him, frowning slightly and not understanding him at first. However, when his free hand left your clit alone and instead reached for himself, realization hit you.

“Rafe…”

Your tone held warning, but Rafe pulled out anyway, a hand on his cock as he leaned in to press his lips to yours again. What a strange way for you to realize that not only did you like kissing, but you liked kissing Rafe.

“It’s going to look so good on camera,” he purred. “Just thinking about my cock twitching as I come inside of you…pulling out and watching it all drip out of that virgin pussy…”

The thought did have you clenching down on air.

“It’s your first time… You should know what that feels like—to get fucked raw.”

Your lack of protest boldened Rafe, and you felt out of control when the tip of him touched you again, only without latex between you this time. He was slow to slide into you, a groan escaping him the same time you moaned as you both basked in the feel of his bare cock fitting snugly inside of you. You threw your head back, and Rafe told you to keep touching your breasts.

You couldn’t deny the difference as he slowly rutted into you. The camera shined light on your stomach and chest and back down again as he moved the phone. His now powerful thrusts turned you into a wanton mess, absentmindedly massaging your nipples in time with his hips. Rafe’s free hand was on you again, rubbing your mound and folds and clit, occasionally spreading you further to really get a good look at the way his cock pushed into you.

The squelch of your core was loud, and you could feel the way you were dripping around him.

Your bed squeaked under the weight of his thrusts, and the feel of skin against skin was sending you both spiraling.

“I’m gonna come,” Rafe gasped, his thrusts sloppy and rough as he fucked himself into you.

You felt the same, but you couldn’t really voice it, too focused on trying to breathe despite the fast pace of your heart. When Rafe pressed a hand into your stomach, it sent you over the edge, and the feel of you tightening around him and clenching down on him had him coming too, spilling into you with a loud moan.

Rafe’s thrusts were lazy now as he fucked you both through your orgasms, hips slow as he pushed into you. He only stopped when he softened completely, slow to pull his cock out and drop to his knees. His free hand reached for you, a thumb and index finger on your lips as he spread them.

“Look at that,” you heard him murmur while you fought to catch your breath. “You took me so well, angel.”

One of your feet relaxed on the floor, now while the other rested on his shoulder.

“Push it out for me. Show them how well you milked my cock…”

You didn’t quite understand him, but you did what you thought he wanted you to do. To your surprise, you could feel him leaking out of you, and the noise Rafe made told you he was satisfied.

“Good girl,” he purred, pushing two fingers into you. “You take me so well, you know that?”

He leaned in and kissed your sore lips then, a hum escaping him as he straightened. The camera was now off, and the phone was tossed to the side, but Rafe’s lips still found yours with a moan. Your confusion must have been evident when he pulled away, because he reached up to drag his thumb over your mouth.

“We’ll need to make time to practice if we want the next one to be even better.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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justforyourlovee · 2 days ago

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Synastry observations -1-

Paid readings :))

follow for more content!

+ If anyone wanna ask about a synastry aspect , comment it here and I will post it in next synastry observation Post , tyy

ᯓᡣ𐭩 his Lilith conjunct your sun :It’s over. Very intense! HAWT. This conjunction can make a married man leave his wife of 20 years. Powerful sexual energy. Karmic. This will mirror the dark energy of the man to himself.Can he see his own demons and welcome them with love? Or does he reject all parts of himself?How this goes is completely dependent on the man’s ability to love all parts of him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 their north node conjunct your sun :they light the way for your soul path this lifetime but won't be your comfort zone because it's nn so will be pushing you forward towards where your meant to be so you need to be mature enough to handle that energy because it involves responsibility and honesty with yourself.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Seventh house synastry:When someone has a lot of planets in your 7th house, you’ll feel a strong connection with them. You’ll enjoy their company, feel comfortable, and trust them. Whether you’re doing something fun or just relaxing together, it’ll feel good. This bond can affect your love life—you might be partners or close friends who help each other with relationships. You’ll just *get* what the other person needs when it comes to love.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Uranus square ascendant : this feels like you're both trying to find a balance between staying true to yourselves and being open to new ideas and experiences. The Uranus person might push you to step out of your comfort zone, which can be exhilarating but also a bit unsettling. I'm not saying it's a bad aspect but let's say it's a friendship , you and your friend are always on the lookout for the next adventure, constantly pushing each other to try new things and explore new ideas. The Uranus person may bring a sense of freedom and liberation to the friendship, encouraging the Ascendant person to break free from routine and embrace change BUT this can lead to a dynamic and stimulating friendship, it can also create tension, especially if one person feels like the other is pushing them too far out of their comfort zone. AND if it's a romantic relationship this aspect in any type of relationship add excitement for sure whether it sometimes conjunct the MC ( excitement in you career) or the IC ( excitement in your home environment or in your emotions in general) but this aspect can lead to conflicts maybe a lot of conflicts , especially if one person feels like their need for independence is being stifled by the other. It's like trying to find a balance between being true to yourself and being part of a partnership. If not managed well, this aspect can lead to a relationship that feels chaotic and unstable, with both partners feeling like they're never on solid ground.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sun Moon Opposition : When the Sun is opposite the Moon in synastry, the Sun person often feels drawn to the Moon person. They admire how the Moon approaches life in their own unique way, and there’s a sense of respect for their emotional depth. The Sun, being creative and expressive, appreciates the Moon’s different perspective. Once the Moon feels safe and knows they won’t be overshadowed, these two can become really close—like best friends or partners who just *get* each other. It’s all about mutual respect and giving each other space to be themselves.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Lilith in the 10th house synastry: the Lilith person looks at the house person and thinks, "You’re going places."There’s admiration, but also this restless feeling like they need to prove something or even challenge the house person’s success. Instead of lifting each other up, they might push against each other, sometimes out of jealousy, sometimes just to see what happens. The Lilith person might feel like the house person represents the **kind of power or recognition they secretly want which can create tension.

Buy me a coffee(tip)

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soangelbaby · 2 days ago

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red kryptonite clark testing your boundaries and pushing you to new limits during sex . . . here’s da fic

red kryptonite clark . . . would take advantage of every single second of you breaking down for him, and he’d use it all against you, forcing you to submit to him whether you want to or not. he’s all about dominance and control, leaving no room for ifs, ands, or buts, he wants what he wants, and won’t stop until he’s satisfied. he’d overstimulate you, three orgasms in and you’re completely wrecked under him trembling, chest heaving, completely overwhelmed by the intense pleasure—so much it’s turned painful because of how sensitive you are. but clark doesn’t let up, he continues fucking you raw—pounding into you, his hands roaming your body, gripping you so tight, bruises would surely form within the next minutes. “aww,” he mocks, “are you tired already? thought you could handle me…” clark bites at your skin, “guess i overestimated you, baby.” all you can do is moan, whimper, whine, in response to his total corruption, teaching you to take him, to give in, to become his.

red kryptonite clark . . . doesn’t just want to fuck you—he wants to own you. your mind, your body, your soul, everything about you belongs to him. every little gasp, moan, all because of him. he won’t stop until he’s the only person on your mind, he wants to be sure you won’t even think about letting anyone else near you because you both know they could never do you like him. he knows your body well—too well, exactly how to make you fold, crumbling under his touch, his senses heightening your anatomy, he can feel and hear the way your heart beats faster whenever he touches you, whenever he makes you do or say things you claimed you would never, he wants it all. clark will push and push until you finally break, unable to resist him, “you think you’re in control?” his fingers tug your hair harshly, pulling you into him, “keep pushing me. you’ll give in, i’ll make sure you break, and you’ll beg me for it.” he whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down to grip your neck, tightening just enough to remind you who he is.

red kryptonite clark . . . would corrupt you. his powers give him an extreme advantage over you—as if he needed them anyway. his strength is inhuman, one hand, that’s all it takes. one hand. and your arms are pinned above your head or behind your back while his free hands roams your body, causing you to feel extremely small and exposed. he wants you to feel how powerless you are under him, manhandling you, tossing you around like you weigh nothing, one second, you’re standing. the next? you’re over his shoulder, his palm landing on your ass with a sharp smack as he carries you effortlessly. “you struggle too much,” he mutters. “maybe i should fix that.” he loves how delicate you feel beneath him, how easy he can manipulate your body however he wants. his chest pressed against yours, completely caging you in, “i could do anything to you… and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” you know you can’t overpower him, and he will always make sure you remember that.

red kryptonite clark . . . loves to ruin you, to make you into such a pretty mess for him. he grips your hair harshly, fucking up whatever cute style you had that day—demolished by him. tugging your cute and carefully picked hair clips or scrunchies, throwing them to the ground like they mean nothing, the second he sees you, he shakes his head, grinning, “you really thought this was gonna last?” he pulls it apart slowly, ensuring you feel him, you understand he’s in control of every single moment, if you try to stop him, he just grabs your wrists, swatting you away, “uh-uh, you’re mine, i want you looking exactly how i left you.” and if you get upset? if you pout? he enjoys it even more, tilting his head like he’s so amused by your reaction, “aw you upset?” clark taunts, gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “thought you looked cute? trust me baby, you look so better like this.” and he would make you see what he did, dragging you to a mirror, standing behind you, “go on, take a good look. that little style? gone. all that effort? wasted.” he’d murmur in your ear, fingers digging into your waist, “and why? because i wanted it that way.” and if you refuse to acknowledge it? man, he will force you. his large arm snaking around your stomach, the other tightening on the back of your neck, “no, you don’t get to ignore this. look at what i did to you.” and he won’t hesitate to double down, if you squirm or fight.

red kryptonite clark . . . doesn’t just want your submission, he wants to see you fall apart. leaving you sore, aching, bruised, he wants to see that moment you’re too far gone but too hooked to walk away. he loves seeing that struggle in your eyes, that brief flicker of defiance before it vanishes completely. it excites him, turns him on, knowing you’re trying so hard to hold on, but you’re slipping, and it’s only a matter of time before you fall into the abyss he’s created for you. “you’re so close, aren’t you?” clark’s voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper. “i can see it, feel it, hear it, trying so hard to hold onto whatever left of you.” his every move, every touch is deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge. it’s a game to him—watching you crumble, feeling the tension build, knowing it won’t be long before you’re completely lost in him. “you’re slipping, baby. you’re already mine, and you love it.” the rush that hits him when you finally surrender, when you realize you’re no longer in control, is almost euphoric, more than just a power trip—it’s knowing you’ll never be the same after this. that feeling of ownership is addictive to him. you’re no longer a challenge; you’re a conquest, and with every step you take toward your breaking point, he feels that pull in his chest, that unrelenting satisfaction and he savors every moment of it.

★ rini’s note ; can yall hear me barking???? yeah u hear it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this man this mannnnn i cant even think straight jist need him to corrupt me pls !!! will beg for it !!!! likez and reblogz are sooo sexc so show me sum luv <3

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cameronsprincess · 14 hours ago

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you ever think about getting slapped around by rafe when he’s pissed and wants to fuck his anger out on you, mocked and laughed at when you start crying, then slapped around again when your crying starts to piss him off again 🤧

I LOVE WHEN A MAN SLAPS YA AROUND (i promise i’m okay.. maybe…)

CW: smut! 18+ only! mean!rafe, degrading, slapping, unprotected piv sex.

masterlists.

“Goddamnit!”

The sound of Rafe shouting as he storms through the front door, slamming it shut behind him has you startling awake. You sit up in your shared bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you listen to his heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs.

You’re not sure what was wrong, but you knew you were about to find out.

Rafe storms into your bedroom, slamming the door behind him, his chest heaving as he breathes heavily, nostrils flaring and his fists clenching by his sides. You quickly shove the comforter off your body, crawling to the end of the bed, your eyes softening as you watch him pace the room.

“Rafe.. What’s wrong, baby?” you ask him softly, not wanting to upset him any further, but needing to know what you can do to help.

Rafe stops his pacing, his gaze fixed on you now. His blue eyes are burning with anger, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it doesn’t work.

He steps towards the bed, reaching you in seconds. His large hand reaches out, gripping the back of your hair so hard you let out a small scream. He yanks your head back, forcing your eyes on his.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” He asks.

Your brow furrows, confused on why he’s asking you this. Of course you don’t think he’s stupid. He’s probably one of the smartest people you know, though, he won’t always show it.

“N-no… Why.. Why are you asking me this?”

He snarls. “Because my bitch of a stepmother thinks I am. She thinks that I don’t know what my dad left behind for me,” He pauses, breathing in deep through his nose before letting it out slowly through his mouth. “She thinks.. She thinks she’s gonna keep all his fucking money? She thinks, that I— That I’m a fucking idiot and didn’t have his will pulled up when I found out he was fucking dead?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. You knew Rafe had been doing his research on what his dad did and didn’t leave him since he got the call that Ward had died… It’s been tough on him, but he’s been handling it as well as he could. But now with Rose trying to pull a fast one on him… You knew things weren’t going to be easy around here until he got what was his.

Slowly, he releases your hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, head hung low. You slowly lift up onto your knees, hesitantly reaching out and pressing a hand into his chest. Rafe’s eyes pop open, staring blankly at your hand on him.

“What can I do? How can I make you feel better right now?”

His eyes darken— more than they already were — and you swallow thickly. Rafe presses a hand onto your forehead, pushing you back onto the mattress before he’s toeing off his shoes and climbing into the bed on top of you, the weight of his body pressing into yours.

“You wanna know how you can help me, princess?” he breathes out, his right hand already possessively gripping your hip.

You nod your head slowly. “Yeah.. Anything. Whatever you need, baby.”

He chuckles, a dark smile taking over his face.

“Mmm.. Careful what you say baby. I might just think you’re serious.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Rafe dips his head down, smashing his lips with yours in a heated, angry kiss. Your hands fly around his neck, pulling him further into you, your tongue flicking against his bottom lip. Rafe groans, slipping his tongue into your mouth as his hands slide up your sides. He toys with the hem of your tank top, sliding it slowly up your body, breaking his lips from yours so he can shove it over your head and toss it to the floor.

Your bare breasts smash against Rafe’s t-shirt covered chest, the fabric of his shirt brushing against your nipples has them hardening instantly, a low moan escaping you. Rafe kisses at your lips softly, trailing kisses down your jaw and to your neck. You yelp when his teeth nip gently at your skin, his hands now tugging at your silk sleep shorts. He slowly tugs them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles and you kick them off.

Rafe pushes up on the mattress, his fingers making quick work of his belt, then moving to pop the button of his jeans before sliding the zipper down. He harshly tugs them down his legs, his boxers going with them. Your eyes flit down, staring at his long, thick cock bobbing in the air. Rafe’s right hand reaches up, smacking you across the face, the impact knocking your head to the side.

Tears fill your eyes, but you quickly blink them down. Rafe was always aggressive when he was in a bad mood, and you didn’t mind it, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt sometimes.

“You gonna fuckin’ cry this time, or are you gonna take it like I know you can?”

You sniffle, letting your eyes meet his again. “G-Gonna take it.. Promise, it’s okay. Take it out on me, baby.”

Rafe chuckles darkly, his hand harshly smacking at your cheek again. You squeal from the impact, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“What I thought, you love when I’m fucking rough on you, but you can’t help but fuckin’ cry every time.”

You lift your hand, quickly wiping away the tear you’d let fall before finding Rafe’s eyes again. He smirks at you, a dark expression on his face as he grips his thick cock in his hand, slowly running his tip through your slick folds.

“So fuckin’ wet already. God, you’re such a pathetic little thing aren’t you? Soakin’ yourself because I slapped your pretty little face twice.”

Your lips part, opening to respond but the words die, a gasp escaping you instead when Rafe shoves himself inside you. His cock stretches you, splitting you in two. He slowly pulls out to the tip, his hand coming up to cup your face before he’s smacking you again, his hips thrusting forward at the same time.

He quickly sets a rough and fast pace, his hips slamming against yours as he brutally fucks himself into you. He continues to slap at your face with each thrust, every slap followed by a degrading remark.

“You fuckin’ cryin’ again?” Slap. “God you’re such a fuckin’ crybaby, can’t even fuckin’ take my dick,” Slap. “Or a slap.” Thrust. “Stop.” Slap. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Crying!” Slap.

Tears are falling uncontrollably down your face now, but your pleasure outweighs the pain you feel in your cheeks and the pain Rafe’s brutal thrusts are causing.

“‘M s-sorry… It hu-rts…” you choke out.

“I-It h-hurts,” Rafe mocks, his cock slowly dragging out of your soaked pussy. He pulls out to the tip, slamming forward and pulling a small whine from you. “You gotta learn to toughen up, princess.” He says, slowly pulling out again before he’s roughly thrusting back in.

His hand slaps at your face again, your cheek now stinging from how hard and how many times he’s slapped you. You try and swallow down the sob wanting to escape you, but his hand making contact with your red and raw cheek has you letting the sob escape. He rolls his eyes, pulling out of you before gripping your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. His hands slip under your hips, lifting your ass into the air. He slams himself inside you again, brutally fucking into you as he continues his assault on your ass.

His free hand reaches out, gripping the back of your head and pressing your face into the mattress, muffling your sobs and whines. “So fuckin’ annoying,” he says, a hint of irritation in his tone. He slaps harshly at your ass again, the sting combined by his brutal thrusts has your pussy clamping down around his cock, squeezing him so tightly he groans from the feeling. “Stop fuckin’ crying! You wanna be fuckin’ good f’me? Make me feel better? Then cum on my cock, and dry your goddamn tears.”

You whimper, your pussy clenching uncontrollably around him as he continues to pound into you. You fist the sheets below you, your toes curling when the tip of his cock hits at that sweet spot inside you. Rafe slaps at your ass three more times, his cock pulsing inside you when you squeeze around him again, your body shaking as you come undone around him.

“Fffffuck, that’s it, princess.” Rafe groans.

His dick twitches inside you, his hips shoving forward one final time before he’s swelling and coming deep inside you in long, slow spurts. Rafe gently rubs at the fat of your ass, soothing the welted handprints he’d left behind. Your body falls limp on the mattress, his hand releasing the back of your head as he falls down on top of you.

Your quiet sniffles fill the room, pulling at Rafe’s chest slightly. He knows you don’t mind him fucking his anger out on you, and you don’t mind when he slaps you around a little, but once it’s all said and done, and the highs are over, he can’t help but feel bad about it. He slowly pulls out of you, rolling to his side and pulling you tightly into his arms, kissing the top of your head. Your big, puffy and teary eyes meet his. He smiles at you, a soft, loving smile as he cups your face, leaning in to kiss your lips softly.

“Hey.. ‘M sorry, baby. ‘M sorry, I love you.”

You smile, burying yourself in his chest as you breathe in his scent. “It’s okay… As long as you feel better,” You pause, kissing his chest. “Let’s nap, and then when we wake up, we’ll work on how we’re going to get you what you’re owed. Rose won’t fuck you over, baby. I promise.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @nemesyaaa @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafesangelita @sarahsangelicdoll @rafescvntyclubgf @hauntedfawnn @dementedkittenribbon @rafesbabygirlx

#*ೃ༄ my works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fic #mean!rafe #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe fic

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animamii · 1 day ago

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letter from lockedup!Toji that goes along with this drabble ‎♡‧₊˚

...Beautiful, I just want you to know; you're my favorite girl...

— Beautiful~~Snoop dogg + Pharrel

‎

Hey, princess.

Got your letter today. Been reading it over and over, like I always do. I swear, these pages are the only thing keeping me sane in here. When everything else in this place feels like it’s closing in, I got your words, your handwriting, the way I can almost hear your voice saying all this to me. It keeps me steady. Keeps me from losing my head.

And that picture you sent? Fuck. You tryin’ to kill me in here? I swear, if these walls weren’t in the way, I’d be home already. You look good, baby. Too good. Almost makes me mad that other people get to see you like this when I can’t. But I know you’re mine. Always have been. Always will be.

You don’t even gotta try, and you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Sitting there, all sweet, all perfect. Makes me crazy knowing I can’t reach out and touch you, pull you into me, feel your skin, hear you laugh in my ear. It ain’t fair. But I guess nothing ever has been for me. Except you. You’re the one thing in this world that ever felt like it was mine. I don’t say this enough, probably don’t say half the shit you deserve to hear, but I need you to know that. You ain’t just my girl. You’re my peace, my home, the only thing I’ve ever been afraid to lose. And that’s saying something.

I laughed when I read about Megumi and his damn ramen obsession. Stubborn little punk. I wonder where he gets it from. (Yeah, yeah, don’t say shit—I know.) Tell him I said to listen to his stepma, eat a real meal, and quit acting like he doesn’t miss me. I know how he is. Pretends he don’t care, but I bet if I walked through that door tomorrow, he’d be the first one running to me. He won’t say it, but you can see it in his eyes. Just like his old man. Make sure he’s eating real food, alright? He might act like he don’t care, but I know he listens to you. Probably more than he ever listened to me.

And you. You better be taking care of yourself too. Are you sleeping? Eating? Taking care of yourself? I know how you get—running around, worrying about everyone else, not stopping to breathe. You always got so much to worry about, but you forget you’re supposed to take care of you too. I don’t wanna hear that you’re running on empty, staying up too late, stressing yourself out. You always act tough, but I know you, baby. I know when you’re holding too much inside. I know when you need me. And I swear to you, I’m coming back.

You tell me you’ll wait. That you don’t care how long it takes. But, baby, I care. Every second in here is a goddamn eternity. Every night I go to sleep thinking about you, and every morning I wake up counting down the days until I can get back to you. And I will. No matter what I gotta do, no matter how long it takes, I will get home to you.And when I do? You better be ready. Because I’m never letting you out of my sight again. You hear me? You’re stuck with me, forever.

Wait for me just a little longer. I love you. More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.

Toji

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maskedbyghost · 2 days ago

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Hihi!! Absolutely adored how you wrote ‘tolerate it’, you did an amazing job!!!

I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort and seeing men regret their actions and grovel for forgiveness. If you don’t mind, could you please write a part two where Simon is hit with regret when he realised how dull his life is without reader and begs them to take him back?

part 2 to this

Simon used to revel in the quiet, found comfort in it actually. But now, it’s suffocating. The house is still, too empty. There’s no soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen, no gentle hum of a song under your breath. No presence. Just him, sitting at the same table, staring at a plate he didn’t make, pushing food around without appetite.

He thought he could live like this. He thought that space and distance would make things clearer. But all it’s done is make the walls feel closer and the bed colder. He reaches for you in the middle of the night out of habit, only to find the sheets smooth and untouched beside him. The absence sinks into his bones, into his very being, heavy and unforgiving.

It hits him hardest when he catches himself setting out two mugs in the morning, muscle memory betraying him. He stares at them, at the empty space where you should be, and something inside him crumbles. He remembers how you always handed him his cup first, even if your hands were full. How you knew exactly how he liked his tea, down to the smallest detail. He never had to ask—you just knew.

And he had been blind to it. Blind to you.

Simon finds himself at your door before he even realizes he’s left the house. The drive is a blur, his thoughts filled with the echoes of your voice, the last words you said before you walked away.

Do you still love me?

I don’t know.

The memory makes his chest tighten, shame curling in his gut. He had meant it at the time, or at least he thought he did. But now, standing in front of your door, hands trembling, he knows the truth: He was a fool.

He raises a fist to knock but hesitates. What if you don’t answer? What if you do? What if you look at him the way he used to look at you—like he’s just another piece of the background, tolerated but not wanted?

The thought is unbearable.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he knocks. Once. Twice. The wait feels endless, every second stretching on, but then, finally, the door opens.

You stand there, wrapped in a sweater he doesn’t recognize, your eyes widening just slightly. His breath catches. You’re still the same—still the person he let slip through his fingers.

“Simon,” you say, without anger like he expected. No softness. Just his name.

He swallows, hands curling into fists at his sides. He doesn’t know where to start or how to say everything stuck in his throat. But he has to try.

“I was wrong.”

Your brows pull together slightly, but you don’t say anything. You’re waiting, like you always did, giving him space to speak. This time, he won’t waste it.

“I thought—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I thought I needed space. That I didn’t know how I felt.” His voice is rough, raw. “But the second you left, I knew. I knew I loved you, and I knew I had been taking you for granted.”

Your lips press together, eyes searching his face. He sees hesitation there and he knows he deserves it.

“I miss you,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “Miss the way you made our place feel like home. Miss the way you looked at me like I was worth something, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Your arms cross over your chest, like a barrier between you and him. “And what if I don’t want to go back to that? To being tolerated?”

“You were never tolerated,” he says, and for the first time in too long, he was sure of something. “You were everything. And I was too blind to see it before. But I see it now.”

Silence stretches between you. He won’t push, won’t demand. If he has to wait, he will.

Because love, to him as well, has always meant patience.

And this time, he’ll wait as long as it takes.

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

it's up to you babes if you want to forgive him or not :) anon, i hope you liked it, and thank you for this request.

also, i won't be able to update until next Monday probably, that's why I was active a bit more for the past few days, but if you have any requests pls send and I'll write them as soon as i can. lyyyy

@daydreamerwoah @dvmbk1tty

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley

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revelboo · 2 days ago

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Queen Revel i am ON MY KNEES begging for the next part of point of extinction because HOLY SHIT DUDE HE JUST WHIPS IT OUT????

He’s just trying to help in his awkward, unsettling way. 18+

Point of Extinction Pt 13

Shockwave x Reader

• You’re averting your eyes still, face reddening. “You find my lack of experience undesirable?” He’s always been quick to pick up new skills. This will be no different. And he can’t deny some purely unscientific curiosity about it. “I would be amenable to allowing you to take the lead while I gather experience.” How would those soft hands feel on him? Tracing ridges and dipping into seams. Wants to know. This is supposed to be about you, tending to your needs, not his. Wanting this isn’t logical, but that doesn’t change that he does.

• And he just keeps making this worse somehow. Risking a look and finding him just staring at you, his one hand gripping that weapon of mass destruction between his thighs and idly touching himself. The shape’s familiar enough, if the ridges and nodes are a bit Giger-esque and pulsing with ruddy biolights that draw your eyes against your will. Forcing yourself to look anywhere but at that, he’s still doing his creepy stare, antenna back. And stroking himself. “That’s a really… flattering offer,” you manage. Stop looking at it. Stop. Dammit. “Could you not do that?” It’s too distracting.

• Letting go of his spike he approaches you and your eyes dip to his bobbing spike then pointedly back up to his single optic. “Might I suggest mutual exploration to ease Thirteen’s uncertainty?” Gently catching your hand and you allow him to guide it to his spike. And your face somehow goes even redder. Shuddering at the feel of your soft palm on him. Lifting his hand and pleased when you don’t immediately snatch yours back when he cups your cheek, servos sliding against you. Thumb sliding over your bottom lip. Another mech would kiss you, but he can’t. “You can have control of this encounter.”

• Know you should get some space between you. Definitely not stroke your fingers along the ridges of his spike, thumb sliding over the head, feeling a bead of slick there. Startling when his helm gently bumps your forehead, that optic bathing your face in red light. It’s not exactly romantic, but you’re pretty sure you’d be worried if he was trying to be romantic. He’s awkward and creepy and more than a little bit messed up. “How much control?” You ask despite yourself.

• Optic brightening, his hips rock when you slide your thumb over the tip of his spike again. It’s difficult to ease himself down without just falling, but he manages and growls when your fingers slip free of him. “Familiarize yourself as necessary. I’m open to instruction.” Holding out a hand to you and waiting while you stare down at him and for a moment that dissonance swamps him. A memory of someone else standing over him, staring down at him with cold calculation. Smiling. A stranger’s memory.

• You’re not doing this. Right? He’s just staring at you, helm tipped up and his hand outstretched. Trying your damnedest to not look at his spike. Mutual pleasure. “You’re not going to lay eggs in me or anything right?” And those antenna go back in offense. You’ll take that as a no. Maybe you’re a tiny bit tempted and he’d mentioned being inexperienced. Popping his alien cherry shouldn’t be appealing. “And you’re not going to move unless I say you can?”

• “If that’s what you require.” Head tipping he waits. And you’re so small even with him mass displaced. Maybe that’s the issue? His size? And he freezes as it sinks in how illogical this all is. That he shouldn’t actually want this. Shouldn’t care about your well being. That he’s made a series of illogical decisions since he’d first interacted with you. And those phantom memories are worse since he began interacting with you, lifting through him suddenly to leave him disoriented. The logical thing to do would be to rid himself of you, but he knows that he won’t. He can’t.

• Something’s very wrong with you for even considering this. Is this just a new experiment to him? A test to see what you’ll do? Or does he actually think he’s taking care of your needs? And you’re not actually considering it, are you? Can admit you’re a tiny bit curious, but it’s the sort of horrified curiosity you’d have for a bit of particularly awful gossip. “Why do you want to take care of me?” Resisting the urge to make air quotes as you focus on his optic since it’s safer than the intimidating jut of his spike. Unable to ask why you’d been spared ending up like the deer. And those antenna go back again.

• Staring up at you, he can’t answer, because he isn’t sure. Doesn’t know why he’d culled you from his experiments. Why the idea of harming you makes him so uncomfortable. Is it only loneliness? That you’re someone to talk to even if the conversations are stilted? Fixating on you now even when he’s working in his lab. Experiments that never bothered him before now making him hesitate simply because you wouldn’t like them. Because they’d upset you. “I’m responsible for your well-being and health,” he says, watching your expression twist. Unhappy with that answer. “And because I desire to be the one to tend to you.” He shouldn’t, but he does. Maybe your illogical, emotional humanity is rubbing off on him. Infecting him.

• There’s something perverse about even considering this. This whole time you’ve been powerless to his whims and he’s giving you permission to take control. To give him orders that he claims he’ll listen to. Yeah, there’s something very wrong with you. “Can I touch you wherever?” He’s closer to your size this way and you doubt you’re going to get another opportunity like this. Want to take advantage before your common sense and survival instincts kick back in. Not waiting for his answer as you reach to cup his head in your hands, biting your bottom lip as you toy with his bunny ears as you think of them. Watching those antenna flick at your touch. And he allows it, keeping still as you gently run your fingertips over the plating of his helm, smiling when bits lift or shift at your touch like they’re sensitive.

#transformers x reader #shockwave x reader #tfp shockwave

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rafesweetie · 17 hours ago

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track v. THE ARCHER! (feat. rafe cameron and prissy!reader)

“i never grew up, it’s getting so old, help me hold onto you”

soulmates. that’s what you and rafe were. two souls destined to be forever tied together.

rafe wished he actually liked it.

he felt as though he was putting you through hell daily, the emotionally immature and extremely unstable boy was lending you all his problems, every single horrible thing he’d done, so it could be your problem instead of his.

you’d thought he’d changed. and in your defence, he thought he did too. when he shaved his hair, old rafe was gone for good, in his place was a put-together ceo who had a normal life. until his father died.

in all honesty, rafe had always wished he’d die someday, so that rafe could finally be the man. but, now that it’s actually happened, he feels like the fake dream world he put together has collapsed.

you walk into the bedroom after coming in after getting your nails and eyelashes done, so excited to show rafe, singing his name playfully when you come in. but your smile drops and you stop in your tracks when you see him.

big shoulders hunched over, elbows on his knees, as he sits on the edge of the king-sized bed with his face in his big hands. you’re unsure if he’s crying or just upset.

“…rafe?” you ask, confused.

“hey baby,” he mutters, voice thick and gruff. he won’t look up at you.

you go to sit beside him, rubbing his back through his shirt and scratching it with your new nails. “what’s wrong?” you ask, voice gentle.

“nothin’. rough day,” he sighs, breath shaky.

“are you.. crying?”

“no. no baby, c’mon, i’m a man,”

“i didn’t ask your gender, i asked if you were crying,”

“i know,” he groans, finally lifting his face up to stare at you. “i am crying, okay? rough day, told you,”

“oh,” you’re sadly unsure how to comfort him, you never have before. he’s had his moments but they were mostly anger, never sadness.

“god, i don’t even know how you fucking stay with me,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “i’m a mess. even my own dad didn’t stay with me, not my sister… i mean— you’ve seen my dark side and yet you still stick around,”

“you don’t have a ‘dark side’, you’re not some silly villain, you just have had it rough and you’re trying to cope,” you try to counter his words and assure him. “..but yeah, i guess sometimes you scare me, but i’ll always stick around,”

“who could ever leave me, anyway? not like i let people, m’always stupidly pushy, ruins everything,” he mutters. “but who could wanna stay?”

“me,” you instantly say.

“don’t know how. you’re dating a… fatherless killer— murderer. and you just admitted you get scared of me. god, leave me if you get scared, don’t be stupid,”

“can you stop thinking like that please?” you ask. “you literally misunderstand yourself, which i didn’t know was possible. you’re so brave, and.. killing peterkin was a mistake, but everything you’ve done has been for a good reason. just bad at executing ideas. doesn’t make you a bad guy, i’ll say it over and over again,”

“you see right through me,” he sighs. “wanna know something? that’s terrifying. i hate that you see right through me, i hate it so much.”

“why? because i know you?”

he nods, and you continue rubbing his back. you’re quiet, unsure how to respond and assure him.

“if i didn’t know you, then no one would,” you respond. “isn’t that scarier?”

he nods. “my dad knew me, was scared shitless of him,”

“so you’re scared of me?”

“knowing me means you have some power over me,”

“knowing you means that i’m gonna stick around and not run the opposite direction like you’re so afraid of.”

“you’re smart today, huh?”

you crack a smile at that. you caress his cheek and wipe away some of the tears. “i think you’re always ready for combat. but you don’t need to be, not with me. i’m not gonna hurt you, not gonna do anything. you’re just as scared of me as i am of you,”

“then help me hold onto you, don’t wanna lose you,” he whispers, then he kisses you.

you hate the feeling of his damp skin on yours, knowing the reason, but you have to be there for him, be the archer, be the brave.

#‎♡‧₊˚ isa’s valentines day event #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron prompt #౨ৎ prissy!reader

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honeyryewhiskey · 2 days ago

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mirrored souls

or, dean dreams of what he believes he can never have. warnings ! angst, hurt/some comfort, dean's feelings are hurt, unexpected pregnancy, tough conversations, two ppl with the same fears j's note ! hey so let's not even talk about the fact that this is neither of the two fics i posted snippets of lol idk what possessed me to write 5k fucking words for this i'm sorry i just want to baby trap dean winchester erm idk enjoy? it's sad but maybe pls dont take my word for it i'll continue this and let them be happy also i stopped proof reading half way through bc it is my bed time <3 5k words

He’s had this dream every night for weeks.

The sun is golden, thick with warmth, stretching over endless fields of green. It settles on his skin like an old friend, seeps into his bones, loosening the ever-present tension in his shoulders. The air is clean, carrying the scent of wildflowers and summer, and for the first time in his life, he feels safe. Like he could lie back in the grass, close his eyes, and let the world move on without him.

Then, he hears her.

A laugh—small and weightless, like wind chimes in a summer breeze—rings through the stillness. It stops him cold, strikes something deep in his chest that he doesn’t know how to name.

He turns, and she’s there.

She can’t be older than four, standing barefoot in the grass, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes—green as polished emeralds, too big for her little face. His eyes.

But everything else—her delicate nose, the slope of her cheekbones, the way her wild hair frames her face—that’s you.

She tilts her head, smiling in a way that makes something inside him shatter. Then she reaches for him, small fingers wrapping around his calloused hand like she’s always belonged there.

And just like that—like the break of a wave, like the snap of a thread—she’s gone.

Dean wakes with a sharp inhale, the remnants of warmth already fading, replaced by the cold press of reality. His chest aches, heavy with something deeper than longing. A quiet, creeping fear slithers in, curling around his ribs.

Because she has his eyes and your face—a combination that will never exist.

You left. And you haven’t come back in months.

It was always cat and mouse with you—years of fleeting moments, an unspoken desire for more that neither of you had the courage to face. You’d cross paths, use each other's bodies to release some tension, but never linger long enough to ignite anything real.

Until about eight months ago, when everything changed. You stayed longer than just a weekend. Dean had you in his arms for four months—four months that felt like a lifetime of stolen moments, of finally letting down walls you both had built so high. But when it all started to feel too real, when the weight of it all settled between you like an unspoken truth, you pulled away. You told him it was too much, that you needed space, that you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to breathe, to step back before it swallowed you whole. And with that, you walked away, leaving him to sift through the pieces of something that was never meant to last.

His heavy hand slams down on the bleating alarm clock beside his bed. The sharp noise cuts off, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing in the dark. He drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his tired eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to clear the remnants of the dream—the sunlight, the laughter, the way she looked at him like he was her whole damn world.

Dean exhales sharply and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Another short night, another dream of something that doesn’t exist, of someone who will never be real. He tells himself it’s just a trick of the mind, a byproduct of too many years spent running on empty. But the truth—the one he won’t say out loud—is that the dreams never started until you left.

And maybe that’s what makes them feel more like a haunting than a fantasy.

He’s spent each day the past four months trying to shove it down, burying it under booze and hunts and half-hearted distractions. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself he’s over it, that he saw it coming. Because he did. He knew you would run the second things got too real, the second you got too close, too comfortable, like maybe you wanted this life with him.

And then, just like his dream, you were gone.

You never said it outright, but he knew—deep down, you were always more like him than you wanted to admit. Built for the road, for the chase. Love wasn’t something you stayed for.

Except you never really left, not completely.

Every now and then, his phone would ring, and it’d be your voice on the other end—casual, distant, asking about a hunt, about a lead on something nasty you were tracking. Always avoiding the bigger conversation, never asking how he’s been, never giving him the chance to ask where you are.

And Dean let it happen. Let you keep him at arm’s length. Because at least this way, you were still something in his life.

But now, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, the dream still fresh in his mind, it pisses him off.

He stands, yanking on a t-shirt and running a hand through his hair before heading for the door. He just needs coffee—something to shake off the lingering ache sitting heavy in his chest.

But the second he steps into the hall, Sam is there, hovering with that anxious look that never means anything good.

“Hey,” Sam starts, lifting a hand like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Before you go in there, just—don’t freak out, okay?”

Dean’s stomach tightens, his muscles tensing. The look he cuts Sam with makes the younger brother’s eyes widen, searching for words to mediate and settle the storm brewing at either side of him. “Sam, what the hell are you—”

Before Sam can answer, Dean hears it.

The sound of pacing. Quick, uneven steps against the kitchen floor. His body goes still, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t need to see you to know.

You’re here.

Dean’s pulse pounds in his ears. His stubborn rage choking out the glimmer of childish hope that sets his nerves on fire. He stares at Sam, waiting for some kind of explanation, but Sam just shifts on his feet, uneasy.

That’s when another sound cuts through the silence—your voice.

Muffled, pacing, like you’re muttering to yourself between shallow breaths.

Dean swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he pushes past Sam. His mind is already racing, his thoughts a tangled mess of you, his dreams, his heartache and the damn voice in his head telling him to grip you tight enough so that you can’t leave him again. Whatever this is, whatever brought you back, he’s not in the mood for it. Not today. Not after all this time.

But when he steps into the kitchen, the world tilts on its axis.

You freeze mid-step, eyes wide, hands curled tightly around the edge of the counter as if you’re holding yourself together, bracing for something. For him, maybe. Your posture is rigid, your whole body taut with tension. You look… different. There’s an unreadable heaviness in the way you stand, the nervous bite of your lip as you chew it—like you’re preparing for a blow, for him to lash out, to reject you.

A heavy silence falls over the room, thick and suffocating. His heart hammers in his chest, but there’s no anger now, no easy target to aim it at. Just this painful, aching pull between what he wants and what he’s afraid to hope for.

“You…” He’s barely able to get the word out. His throat feels tight, words caught somewhere between anger and something much softer, something more dangerous. He’s not sure which one is scarier.

You glance at him, then quickly look away, the uncertainty in your eyes like a crack in a mirror he never thought he’d see. Dean feels something in his chest twist—familiar, painful, like it’s been waiting for you to come back and break him open all over again.

His mind is a whirlwind. He wants to be angry—hell, he’s had four months of anger built up over your disappearing act. But standing here, with you so close, he realizes just how torn he is inside.

He wants to scream at you, demand to know why you didn’t come back sooner, why you couldn’t have just stayed. But that’s not the real question, is it? Because deep down, a part of him knows it wasn’t just you who ran. It was him, too. He shut off long ago, convincing himself it was easier that way. He was easier that way.

But you? You always seemed to slip through his defenses.

Dean stares at you, struggling to find his voice, his hands suddenly feeling useless at his sides. The walls he’s built up for his entire life—years of anger, bitterness, and pain—are cracking, piece by piece, and he has no idea how to stop it.

Dean crosses his arms, trying to shove down the storm already brewing inside him. “Well,” his voice is rough with sleep and something dangerously close to hurt. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your spine straightens, and just like that, the tension shifts. Whatever nerves had you pacing seconds ago are buried under the sharp edge of your own attitude. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on it either.”

Dean scoffs, a bitter chuckle, the undertone to the eye roll he throws you. “Oh, great. That makes me feel real special.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers digging into the edge of the counter before you let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Dean. I don’t know if this is the right thing, or if I’m just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip again. You were never as good as he was at hiding your pain. It’s evident now, in the vulnerability in your eyes that cuts through him, raw and unguarded, and it makes everything inside him spin faster.

Sam clears his throat. “Why don’t I give you guys some space?” He glances between the two of you, clearly ready to escape the tension.

Dean doesn’t look at him, just stares at you as you stand firm, the scowl on your face trying desperately to cover the sadness in your eyes. The fact that you’re asking for anything at all should piss him off. After months of the half-hearted check-ins that only ever came when you needed something, after the way you left—why should he give you the time of day?

But he can’t say no.

And that scares him more than anything.

Sam nods to himself when neither of you protest and slips out of the kitchen, leaving you and Dean in thick, suffocating silence.

“Why are you here?” His voice comes out quieter than he intended, but the question hangs in the air, laced with something deeper, something that sounds too much like hope. A falsehood he’s terrified to acknowledge.

You take a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping just slightly, as if the weight of being in the same room as him is too much to carry alone.

Dean takes a step toward you, his feet heavy on the floor, his chest aching. His instincts shout at him to pull away, to protect himself from the inevitable hurt, but something else—something buried deep inside him—begs him to go closer.

The words come out before he can stop them, quieter now, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this again, are we gonna keep pretending we have nothing to talk about?”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face, and it rips through him. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he can’t stop the words. He can’t stop the fear, the resentment, that’s built up over all this time.

"I don't know if I can just act like nothing ever happened between us. Like you didn't leave me. Like..." His voice breaks off, his throat thick with emotion he’s been swallowing for far too long. He’s not even sure who he’s trying to convince anymore, you or himself.

His hands are trembling now, and he clenches them into fists, fighting to keep the storm inside him contained. But every time he looks at you, sees the way you’re standing before him, so tired and lacking the fire that he always adored. That you’re here now when he never thought he’d see you again, it pulls him under a wave of emotion he can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how to do this, not after everything,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your eyes fill with regret, but there's something else too—a quiet understanding. You know what you’ve done. You know what this looks like, but still, you're standing here. And that small, painful spark of hope flickers in the pit of his stomach.

“Can we just sit and talk, please?” Your voice is soft, pleading. And this time, you don’t look away.

Dean stands there, his whole body tense, his mind screaming conflicting words in the crosshairs—walk away, stay. But something in your gaze, in your quiet desperation, tugs at him. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—conflicted in the most unfamiliar way.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nods. “Fine. But we talk,” he jabs a finger at you, his brows set with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, “really talk. No more running.”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing, just slightly, and Dean wonders, not for the first time, if maybe—just maybe—he’s still capable of believing in the possibility of this. Of you.

His eyes narrow, the weight of years of unresolved anger and hurt pressing down on him. But despite it all, despite everything you put him through, he can’t seem to dig his heels into this anger. Not when you’re standing here, so close, with those big, pleading eyes that always seemed to strip him bare.

The years of touch and go, the broken promises, the words left unsaid—they all float between you, a suffocating fog that neither of you knows how to break. But Dean’s tired. Tired of fighting this pull, this pull toward you he can’t seem to ignore, no matter how many times you leave.

With a frustrated sigh, he crosses the kitchen, the hard floor beneath his boots clacking louder than it should. He grabs two chairs from the worn wooden table, scraping them across the linoleum as he sets them down. Wordlessly, he nods toward the seat beside him.

“Sit,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You stand there for a moment, the air between you thick with things left unsaid. And then, quietly, you take the seat next to him.

Dean can feel the weight of the moment in every fiber of his being. He doesn’t want to look at you. Not yet. Not until he’s ready to hear whatever it is you came to say.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, as you sit side by side, neither of you knowing how to begin.

Finally, you clear your throat, a small sound, but it’s enough to break through the tension. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything. But… can we just talk, like we used to? No games. No running away this time, okay?”

Dean stares at the table in front of him, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge. Your words hit harder than he expected, and for a second, his chest tightens with something raw and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know?” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Every time you leave… it’s like you take a piece of me with you. And I’m just left here picking up the pieces, wondering if you’ll ever come back.”

You wince at the admission, and it hits him harder than he wants to admit. He doesn’t know why he said it—maybe because this is the first time in years that you’re actually sitting here, facing him. Maybe because it’s the first time in years that he feels like you might actually be willing to stay.

You reach out, placing a tentative hand on his, stilling the tapping. And for a brief moment, his breath catches.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean,” you say softly. “I never wanted to be another person who hurts you.”

to forget the months of silence, the aching space you left behind. He wants to pull you close, bury his face in your neck, and pretend none of it ever happened—that you never walked away, that he never let you.

But reality crashes down just as fast.

He can’t let himself go there, can’t let himself believe this is something he can have without it slipping through his fingers. So instead, he exhales sharply, shoving that fragile part of himself deep down where it belongs. His jaw tightens, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough, edged with his angry armor.

“Then why did you leave?” he grits out, his voice quiet but commanding. He needs to know. Needs to understand why the person he thought he might finally let himself love disappeared without a trace.

You pull your hand back, lips pressed tight. “I—”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, like the weight of months spent apart. Dean’s still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening, why you’re here, why you’re sitting beside him, but something shifts in your expression.

You take a deep breath, eyes falling to your lap before lifting to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words soft but full of weight. “I’m sorry for always running off. For disappearing when things got too real. I know it’s not fair.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel.

“I was scared,” you continue, voice breaking just a little. “I still am. I…” Your words falter, but then you press on, searching his eyes for understanding. “I was consumed with this fear of losing it all. That I’d attach myself to you and this life would rip you away.”

The quiet admission sits heavy in the air. Dean feels his heart thudding faster beneath his rib cage. A pang of regret washes over him, for never admitting he shared that fear. That he thought he would be the thing that rips you apart. And maybe if he had, you wouldn’t have felt alone in those thoughts.

You run a hand through your hair, a nervous gesture, and he watches the movement, the tension in your body. “I didn’t think I could do this. I didn’t think we could do this. I don’t see a world where something like that survives,” you shake your head, lost in the thoughts that shuffle through as you try to find your words, “Where… where we get a happy ending.”

Dean feels his chest tighten, his pulse speeding up as he takes in what you’re saying. The words hang between you, both of you holding your breath. And for a long, painful moment, the only sound in the room is the distant hum of the refrigerator, a constant reminder that time is still moving, even when it feels like everything’s frozen in place.

“I’m not saying that I don’t want it, Dean,” you add quickly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t know how to believe it’s possible. But I didn’t come here to ask for you to take me back.”

Dean stares at you, his pulse hammering against his ribs. There it is—that damn crack in your voice, the one that always cuts through him like a blade. He wants to be angry, to hold onto the bitterness that’s been festering since you left, but it slips through his fingers the second he sees the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re scared. Like you don’t expect him to want this.

Like you don’t expect him to want you.

His throat tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to reach for you. “Then what do you want?” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “If you’re not here to ask me for anything, then why come back?”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for words. Your fingers twist in the hem of your jacket, your shoulders curling inward, like you’re bracing for him to tear you apart. And damn it, that does something to him, because he’s never wanted to be the reason you look like that.

Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to ground himself. His mind is a battlefield, waging war between the fear clawing at his insides and the need to fix this—fix you. But how the hell is he supposed to do that when he’s still not sure how to fix himself?

“You don’t know how to believe it’s possible?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, join the damn club.” His chest feels too tight, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “You think I had some fairytale idea of us, sweetheart? That I thought this would be easy?” He lets out a breath that’s more of a laugh, humorless and hollow. “Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be any good at this. But you didn’t give me the chance to figure it out, did you?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. And God, he hates that. He hates seeing you cry. Hates even more that he’s the reason for it.

“I was scared,” you whisper, your voice breaking apart like shattered glass. “I am scared.”

Dean swallows hard, his anger flickering, giving way to something deeper, something more painful. He’s scared too. He’s scared as hell. Of not being enough. Of screwing this up. Of losing you all over again.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the way you’re trembling, barely holding yourself together—it hits him. He’s not the only one drowning in this.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before finally, finally stepping forward. His hands hover for a second before settling on your arms, grounding you. Grounding himself.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, softer now, “I guess we can be scared together.”

You drag the backs of your hands across your cheeks, trying to contain the tears that just won’t stop flowing. “No, Dean, you don’t get it—” you cut yourself off with a groan. Your breathing is coming out uneven as anxiety pulls at your every nerve, and suddenly you can’t sit still. You can’t do this.

You’re up on your feet again, pacing slightly as you try to steady your breathing.

Dean watches you, his stomach twisting as you distance yourself. There’s a wild, frantic energy in the way you move, your arms wrapping around yourself like you’re trying to hold yourself together. Your breath is uneven, shaky, and those damn tears keep slipping past your lashes no matter how hard you try to blink them away.

His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to reach for you again, to do something—anything—to stop that panicked look from overtaking your face. It melts his resolve, steadies his rising temper.

His voice comes quieter this time, hesitant. “Hey—what’s going on?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head as if you can will away whatever storm is raging inside you.

Dean’s chest tightens. His mind is running through every possibility, each one worse than the last. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, the pet name easing off his tongue as if no time had passed since he last called you that, “talk to me.”

"I... I didn't catch it in time, I'm sorry." You start, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words thick with something he can't quite name. Your eyes squeeze shut as if the simple act of speaking is too much.

Dean’s chest tightens, a knot of confusion twisting in his stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?” His tone is gentle now, trying to coax it out of you, but the moment you raise your eyes, he sees it—the fear, raw and trembling beneath the surface.

He’s on his feet again, closing in on you like you’re a scared animal that’ll take flight from any sudden movement.

“I just thought it was stress making me miss my period again, but…” You choke, your voice cracking as if admitting it out loud is tearing something inside you apart.

Dean’s breath hitches, and his heart races, but he doesn’t dare interrupt you, his own confusion giving way to a growing sense of dread. He takes another step toward you, but you flinch, eyes shimmering with tears that slip through your heavy breathing.

You finally break, the tears turning into sobs that shake your shoulders. You shake your head, wiping at your face again, as if trying to push it all away. But it’s too late now.

“I’m scared, D.” You gasp the words out, the weight of them crushing you. “I’m so scared.”

Dean’s chest tightens, a cold sensation creeping down his spine, even as his heart lurches in his chest. He can feel the tremor in your voice, the rawness in every syllable, but he can’t make sense of it. The world seems to slow, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place—but not quickly enough for his mind to catch up.

“What… What are you saying?” He asks, his voice quiet, strained with confusion and something that feels dangerously close to panic.

You glance up at him, eyes wide and glassy with tears. You open your mouth, but the words seem stuck, lodged in your throat. The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, you take a deep breath, almost like you’re gathering the strength to face something unbearable. “I’m pregnant, Dean.” The words fall from your lips in a broken whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

Dean freezes. His entire body goes still, as though he’s forgotten how to breathe. The weight of your words hits him like a freight train, and for a moment, everything goes silent except for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Pregnant.

His mouth goes dry, his thoughts scrambling, trying to make sense of it all. The pieces click into place—the missed periods, the way you looked at him when you walked in, the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

His dreams.

He takes a half-step back, his mind too far behind, too rattled by the weight of what you just said.

And then, slowly, it hits him—this isn’t just a shock; it’s a bombshell. One that could tear everything apart, and yet, at the same time, it pulls something from him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The edges of his world begin to blur. He’s scared. He’s terrified.

“Are you… are you sure?” His voice comes out rough, almost panicked, like he’s waiting for you to tell him this is some sick joke, but he knows it’s not.

You nod, sniffling. "I took a test, I went to the doctor and they told me I was already four months along." you whisper, choking back a sob. "I didn’t know what to do."

Dean steps closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But you flinch again, the space between you thick with everything you’ve never said to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you. I could have just called, I should have—” Your voice cracks, and you finally meet his gaze, eyes full of everything—regret, fear, and a raw, aching vulnerability that threatens to break him.

Dean's heart races, the panic starting to crawl up his throat. He wants to scream, to tell you that he’s terrified—that he doesn’t know how to be a father, that he’s too broken, too fucked up to raise a kid. The thought of something happening to you, to your child, terrifies him in ways he can’t even put into words. But you’re standing there, so small, so vulnerable, looking at him like he’s the only one who can fix this. And damn it, he has to be strong.

He closes the distance between and pulls you into his arms before either of you can second guess it. His hands are warm and steady on your back, but inside, his mind is a storm. His pulse is erratic, his breath shallow, but he holds you close, trying to give you the comfort he doesn’t know how to find for himself.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice like a lighthouse to steer your sinking ship. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone in this.”

You shake your head against his chest, a shaky breath escaping. “I’m so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression soft but full of intensity. His thumbs pushes away your tears, warm and rough against your skin. “You don’t have to know right now,” he assures you, trying to convince himself as much as you. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time. I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Inside, though, his mind is spinning out of control. He doesn’t know how to be the man you need. He doesn’t know if he can even be the father this child deserves. But in this moment, he’s all you have. And somehow, he knows that no matter how badly he’s freaking out, no matter how scared he is, he’ll find a way to make this work—for you, for the little life growing inside of you.

He gently strokes your hair, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, grounding himself in the act. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispers again, his voice thick with the promise of something more than just words.

But inside, the panic churns, a rising tide he can’t escape. He holds you tighter, pretending for your sake that everything will be fine, even as the weight of the world presses down on him.

edit to add tags why do i always forget tags @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @ultravi0lence14

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst

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hellfire--cult · 3 days ago

Text

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: lots of angst, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), evil person appearing, reader having a crisis, some violence, eddie being a sweetheart, hurt/comfort

wc: 9.9k

A/N: i didn't take a month to update, wow. hope you all like this chapter because here is where everything starts turning a lil more serious. thank you @andvys for always proofreading for me 💕

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 21

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You tapped that pen on the desk as you held onto your forehead. A headache was forming as you started thinking of how to cope with the next interviews you will have with this woman. A successful woman who had many clothing brands to her name. One who wanted many pages with her clothes on display by various models. A woman.

A pregnant woman.

You weren’t resentful. You weren’t angry or jealous… You just know if things would have gone different, you would have a child in your arms by now. You would be showing that baby off like your pride and joy. Looking at a pregnant woman was like looking at the one thing you never reached, the one dream that was so close to being completed only for it to be ripped apart. Ripped from your grasp by two evil beings.

That was the unfair part. If it were your fault, if it were something that had happened to you, then you would have no one to blame but yourself. That was the part you were still resentful of. The part you hated to dwell on. The part you didn’t want to remember. You often wondered if you could even hold a baby. Would your heart let you? Would it allow you to feel the warmth of someone else’s baby after what you went through?

You sighed as you fixed the papers on your desk, looking at the name of the woman. She was kind, she seemed happy and radiant, holding her pregnant belly as she discussed business with you and Liana. You saw how she used her left hand that held a beautiful wedding ring on her ring finger, and she rubbed it all over her belly, laughing when she got distracted when her baby kicked.

You wanted to feel it, yet you didn’t. You wanted to know how it felt, how it all could be… but you also didn’t want to be reminded of what you didn’t get to have, and maybe, ever have. At this rate, is there someone out there that won’t fuck you over? Someone you are willing to trust?

And he popped in your head.

As soon as he did, you shook your head, brushing him off. He wasn’t a good idea. You know about his record of women, you know who he is and what he does. You would not be surprised if you came to find out he is fucking someone else apart from you right now. You wouldn’t be surprised. He can do whatever he wants, can’t he? Just like you do. You two are unattached. As it should be.

This was just beneficial for the two of you. You were friends who had a great time together in and out of bed, and that was it. You are happy that that is it. Don’t you? Yeah, you are. You are not looking for a relationship, much less with Eddie Munson. From what you know, he has never been in a serious relationship. He’s never had a girlfriend before, and you asked around. You asked Steve, Jonathan, Nancy… they all gave you the same answer: Eddie does not do relationships.

Your pen dropped from your hand, a gulp sounding in the room. You were blinking a few times as you breathed again and grabbed the pen once more.

But you couldn’t help but imagine it. You wanted to invite him to stay over often and not just leave in the morning. You want him to eat breakfast with you, or lunch, whatever. It was as if whenever you got together first with your friends, you used that time to be together like friends and just that. Enjoy a movie together, some drinks, a dinner, but then everyone leaves and you are on each other like animals in heat season.

You wondered if he ever wanted to spend a night with you alone, but… watching a movie. Or having some pizza together with some beers and play games… or– wait, you are thinking about a date. You are thinking of going on a date with Eddie. But is it? You two are like that when not fucking eachother’s brains out, so what’s wrong with spending time with him as a friend and just a friend? It isn’t weird.

You should offer it, but what if Eddie actually thinks you are asking him on a date? Or what if he thinks that because you want to do something friendly with him, you are putting an end to it all? Why are you overthinking this? You didn’t before, and you should stop. He is not racking his brains over this like you are, so you shouldn’t.

“Knock knock.” You raised your head to see Robin knocking on your open door, a small smile on her lips. You knew why she was here, so you let her in, putting the pen down on the papers on your desk. She walked in, leaving the door open, tilting her head towards you. “You okay?” “Yeah… Yeah, I am Robs.” You sighed and one thing is to pass by a lovely couple where the woman is pregnant and not see them again, and the other is this. Meeting this woman several times and knowing that at one point you will find her sitting on that chair with her baby in her arms instead of inside her belly.

“Okay… Liana is calling for everyone in the cafeteria. She wants to tell us something important.” You frowned at that, wondering what it could all be, because Liana always made sure you were one of the few to know first about things or deals happening to the company.

“What?” Robin shrugged at your question and continued.

“She was smiling, so I am not assuming the worst, you know…” Okay, that calms you down slightly. You nod and get up from your desk, smiling at Robin as she smirks and points at your neck. “Things are turning serious?”

“What?” You covered your neck with your hand, cursing at Eddie in your mind. After he dropped Argyle off from a night at Jonathan’s bar, he drove you to his house, and there wasn’t any sex, just him with a sudden hunger to eat you out, and make you see stars consecutively.

That was a new development. Eddie was very into making you cum. He told you he would make you cum at least twice whenever you two stayed together, and he sure is taking that promise seriously. You weren’t complaining, but he made you feel… wanted. And you didn’t want to feel like that… You didn’t want to feel… hopeful.

“When can I properly meet Jeff? Like, as your best friend, so I can do that whole ‘Hurt her and I murder you’ speech.” Robin said with a smile and you felt guilty. So, so guilty. How do you tell her this is not serious? How do you even begin to explain to her that this is not what it looks like at all?

How do you even tell her it’s not Jeff, but Eddie you’re seeing?

“Never because this is not serious and never will be.” The words stung in your tongue and you tried brushing it away with a roll of your shoulders, in which Robin caught on. Your hands fumbled in your purse to get the concealer out so you could reapply it on the hickey and some powder to conceal it.

“You look upset about that.” Her words made you look up as you popped the concealer open and walked towards the mirror in your office.

“Upset? Why would I be upset?” You asked, your heart racing slightly at your own question but Robin stood next to you, crossing her arms over her chest as you applied two dots of concealer on the skin of your neck.

“Because whenever you roll your shoulders, crack your neck, or don’t even look at me, it means something is not going as you planned.” You gulped a lump that was suddenly bothering you in your throat as you stared at Robin through the mirror. You weren’t upset. Why would you be? Why would you be upset at all about how things are going? You aren’t.

“You’re wrong. I’m perfectly fine with what I have now, and, I– I am still talking to other people.”

“Bullshit! Jeff is the only one you’ve been seeing for a month now or more and you confessed to me that no one fucks you like–”

“Yeah, yeah, got it! I know what I said but– We aren’t exclusive even! So– Who knows? Maybe he is out there, fucking someone else right now!” You froze for a second at your words. Could that be happening? Could that be something that Eddie was doing? You two don’t really talk about being with other people, nor have you had any indication of him sleeping with someone else but, he is in all his right. He can do whatever he wants, just like you can. You just decide not to because you’re afraid of being disappointed and embarrassed for the other person for not performing like Eddie does.

That was all.

“Well then, make it exclusive!” Robin’s voice was loud, which made you shush her with a movement of the concealer wand as you put it back in the container. You passed the tube to her and opened the powder to set it on your neck.

“I won’t because we don’t want that.” You could feel the pulse in your neck becoming quicker the longer you held this conversation.

“How do you know he doesn’t want that?” Robin’s voice was slowly starting to annoy you as you walked back to your desk, ripping the concealer out of her hands to put it back in your purse.

“We talked about it already, and we just want to keep having sex. That is all there is.” You straightened up, fixing your blazer and turning to look at her. “So?”

Robin looked you up and down and did an ok sign with her fingers, “Unnoticeable.”

“Perfect. Do you have any idea what she wants?” You asked as you walked out of your office, Robin closing the door behind her as you two went to the elevator.

“I have no idea. She wants everyone to be in the cafeteria for an announcement. I don’t know what could possibly be.” Robin replied as you two got into the elevator and pressed for the second floor, the door closing in front of you. “She’s not retiring, isn’t she?”

“Oh my god, Robin, Liana is only forty-one.” To your answer, Robin shrugged. Once the doors opened, you all walked out and moved to the cafeteria where many people were already waiting and talking to eachother, speculating into what the news could be. You wondered if any of the rumors that were happening were true.

Some speculated she was resigning. Some speculated the company was going to close down. Some were saying she was just going to give out the announcement for a better salary. You did not have a single clue what was happening, except for the fact Liana seemed happier, and she was being less strict with everything around her. Fuck, maybe she was resigning.

You stood next to Robin who was already grabbing a muffin from the counter, but your nerves didn’t let you sit still. You couldn’t even think of eating something right now, afraid that it would get caught in your throat. You had a feeling something you weren’t going to like was going to happen, but maybe it was just your nerves and the client situation throwing you off… and the talk you just had with Robin.

Liana walked in, smiling as she greeted a few, coming over to stand in the middle of the cafeteria. Everyone greeted her like the superstar she was, a renamed magazine director. A magazine that despite the technological changes, it’s up and running, changing it from the public view, to only be a magazine, a catalogue, for clothing brands.

“Okay, hello!” Liana greeted you all, and you fidgeted in your place as she looked all over the employees, or well, most of them, which weren’t a lot. Just thirty people in the building right now. “So, I bet you are all not figuring out why I called you here.”

“No idea Liana, so please, spare us from the anxiety.” A male coworker laughed, which prompted everyone to let out a chuckle, as well as Liana.

“Sure, it’s going to be quick. For the next month… I will be looking for a temporary replacement.” Your eyes widened as you turned to look at Robin, who was wide-eyed just as you were.

“Temporary?” Someone asked and your eyes looked back at Liana, and you just felt a shiver run down your spine. Something was telling you to get out of there. Something was telling you to simply run away. Something was telling you that you shouldn’t listen to this.

“Yes… I have been hiding something from all of you. My personal life is something I wanted to keep apart from my work as much as I could, but these new decisions require me to be open about it now.” You felt your blood going cold. Your hands were tense. Your tongue was dry.

“Don’t tell me…” Robin’s whisper was far away as you only focused on Liana, who was smiling widely, her hands opening her blazer, and there happened to be a belly. A swollen belly. A pregnant belly.

“I’m going on maternity leave. I’m six months pregnant.”

If there was any clapping, any cheering, any kind of reaction to that, you were numb to it. You were deaf to whatever was happening. Everything moved in slow motion for you right now, and you were trying to process what she had just said. You were trying to make it make sense but it just didn’t. How? When?

She is pregnant. Your boss is fucking pregnant. Everyone is getting pregnant.

You want to leave. You want to run away but you can’t. Just because it didn’t happen for you, it doesn’t mean people can’t live that. Just because you couldn’t make it happen doesn’t mean others cannot. You had to be rational about it. You had to be a grown up and you have moved on from this. You did.

So why do you feel like throwing up? Why do you feel like the world is crumbling on top of your head? Why do you feel like you won’t reach anything you ever want? Why are you so envious? Why?

“Baby, snap out, please.” Robin’s words made you blink, looking at her through lost eyes. Her eyebrows were met in the middle in a worried frown. Pity. You could see the pity and you didn’t want to see it, or feel it.

“I’m fine. I’m alright, just shocked, I didn’t even… know she had a partner.” You tried to play it cool as shock and not utter disappointment in your life. You were trying to play it off as if it wasn’t one of the worst things you heard in the past week.

“It’s… okay to feel sad– You just had a client–”

“My two doves!” Liana’s voice broke you from your conversation with Robin, making you look at her with words being stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to face her but you had to. You were being childish. You need to make your heart stop turning a bit in your chest cavity and tell your stomach to stop flipping upside down.

“Hi Liana…” Robin was side-eyeing you as you kept looking at your boss, your breaths quite heavy. “I’m– Congratulations! I didn’t know you had a partner!”

“Oh, yes! I do, it was kind of… an on and off thing until we decided to make it work and well… take the next step for me before it was too late and all!” Your boss said with a smile and– The baby was going to be born in something that was broken? Your throat was dry, not even gulping down saliva helped. Liana turned to look at you, “I’m sorry for not telling you. Especially you.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had to say something. This was like a praise coming from her because it meant you were one of her favorites. You cleared your throat, and you were hoping you were mustering a smile, because you couldn’t exactly feel your face right now.

“I’m not mad, Li. I’m just… very surprised…” You said and she smiled, holding her hand out. You frowned a bit, putting your hand on hers and– No. Please, no. She directed your hand to her belly, so you could press your palm against it and you felt the entire world caving in for you. It was soft. It was so soft and there was a baby in there.

“Still, sorry… But! Can you feel him? A strong baby boy is growing in there!” She was smiling, excited, and she was so happy to make you be the one to touch her belly, something private, something intimate. And all you felt was anger. Sadness. Jealousy. Resentment.

You forced another of your smiles but the moment you felt her belly bump slightly, signaling the baby inside was moving, the bad thoughts were gone momentarily. Someone so pure, so innocent and beautiful. A baby boy. Your eyes went towards Liana who was smiling expectantly at you, making you tilt your head in question.

“What is it?”

“You’re my first choice.” She whispered and Robin’s eyes widened as you retreated your hand back in shock.

“Sorry?”

“My replacement. I think it will give you… amazing training. I will be looking at others just in case you decide to not take it but… It will give you a pay raise and it stays that way even when I return from my leave… and then… when I retire…”

Was Liana telling you she wanted to make you her successor? She wanted to train you to be the next CEO of this company? You should be so happy. You should be up on the moon by this revelation. You knew you were one of Liana’s favorites but never to this extent. And even now, realizing this, your smile was still forced. Your excitement was forced. Your happiness was forced.

“Are you serious? Do you seriously think I can do a good job?” Your voice was small, and Liana only smiled as she nodded and then put a finger over her lips to signal you to keep quiet and then looked at Robin.

“Not a word of this, especially you babbling Robin.” Robin only gave a salute in response as Liana winked at the both of you and walked away. You just stood there, seeing how she put her hand on her belly as she walked to the next set of people. You felt your heart combusting into itself, a huge fire expanding all over you, and you had to try to shake it off. You had to try to shake this moment away because you were feeling humiliated. Defeated.

“Wow, I’m happy for you!” You knew Robin was trying to look at the bright side of things for you. You knew she was trying her best and that she could see the twitch in your eye. The way your gaze didn’t leave Liana’s belly for one second. A baby that was sporadically planned. A baby that, maybe, was planned to save a marriage.

It wasn’t fair.

“I… yeah.” You finally turned to look at Robin, and you felt your hand itching to reach your phone. To text someone. Him. You wanted to text Eddie. You wanted to see Eddie but why? He is a friend, first and foremost and he has had your back in bad situations before. That’s why. You just feel like you can count on him. That’s all there was.

“We should… go out and celebrate tonight! Go to Jon’s bar and have a few drinks…” Your eyes were distant and your mind suddenly switched. You shouldn’t be sad. You shouldn’t. You were offered to take over Liana’s spot while she was gone. A CEO position! It was big shit! You give her a slow nod, a small genuine smile finally appearing on your lips as Robin could almost sigh in relief.

“Yeah. Yeah! I mean it’s not an official thing, but she said it! I’m her top choice! And you bet your ass Robin I’m taking it.” Robin did a small little happy dance for you, giving a small clap and you finally felt a little bit of the tension you were feeling leave your shoulders.

As long as you don’t look at your boss’ belly, you’ll be fine.

You took another shot with Robin. This being your fourth one of the night.

Nancy was sitting next to her, in front of you, while next to you sat the man you’ve been wanting to see since yesterday night. Since today morning. Since today afternoon. Eddie smirked as he drank his water, having drank only one shot but keeping the status of designated driver in check.

“A CEO, now that’s something else.” Eddie mentioned as you turned your head to look at him, the alcohol not kicking in at all for you, unlike Robin who was already buzzing with it, nudging Nancy who was giggling next to her.

“I am not a CEO yet, but I am going to be trained to be one.” He hummed in approval, raising his glass at you, prompting you to raise your daiquiri, a sweet drink to show your happiness. That’s definitely what you felt. You two clinked glasses and then you felt your knee being squeezed slightly underneath the table, making your breath hitch for a second.

“Congrats, Peach. You deserve that.” His smile was genuine as he directed it your way and you had to stop your damn heart from beating so fast. There was no need for it to go that quickly.

“Damn right she does! She got so many clients!” Robin said with a cheer, making you flush as she praised you in front of your friends, making you look down at your glass as you took a sip from it.

“Why are you going into training, though?” Nancy asked, and you stiffened in your place for a second, and the man next to you noticed. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to talk but Robin beat you to it, which made your blood go cold, not wanting to give the actual explanation or even hear it.

“Liana is leaving because–”

“I’m going to the bar to get another drink.” You said as you raised from your seat, the warm hand that was on your knee retreating for you to scoot away and out of the booth with your almost empty daiquiri glass. You want a beer now. You really want a beer. You know Robin will tell them, but you do not want to listen to it. You don’t want to see the pitiful looks on their faces, much less Eddie’s.

You slowly walked through the crowd, the bar a little crowded thanks to it being a happy hour on a Thursday. Many people came here after work, just like all of you did many times. You reached the bar, Jonathan smiling as he walked up to you from behind it as he cleaned a glass.

“Another one?”

“I want a beer.” His smile faded as a frown now came to happen in his eyebrows and you knew he realized something changed, that something happened.

“Did something happen over there?” You shook your head as a signal of not wanting to talk about it. He gave a single nod as he leaned downwards, grabbing a beer out of the ice bucket. He popped it open as he handed the bottle to you and took the glass of your daiquiri away from you. “Don’t drink too much, you got work tomorrow.”

“Are you my mom?” You gave him a small smile, which he reciprocated, shaking his head at you. His head perked up when he heard someone calling him from the other side of the bar. He gave you a wink before moving away from you, leaving you to stand there with the beer in front of you. You took a long sip of it, feeling the bitterness run down your throat and you groaned at it.

Why did it have to hit you once again? Why did they have to ask? You didn’t want to turn around, afraid that the group of three might be looking your way with frowns on their faces. You didn’t want to go back and hear the typical ‘It will be okay’. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care.

“Darling?”

Your body froze.

That wasn’t Eddie’s voice. That wasn’t Jonathan’s voice. That wasn’t any of the people you knew in this town’s voice. No. It cannot be. It shouldn’t be. It’s just someone with the same vocal chords, people can have identical voices. It can happen. But, you need to make sure. You need to make sure that it’s not what you think it is. Who you think it is.

Your head turned to your left and you felt your heart dropping to the floor. You no longer feel the cold of the beer in your hand as you stare at the blue-colored eyes in front of you, at the blonde hair that was nice and kept, at the office attire he was wearing. No. Why? Why now? Why here? Why in the bubble you had created for over a year? Why?

“I thought that my eyes had deceived me, but it really is you.” He dared to send a smile your way. He dared to fucking smile at you. He dared to talk to you. He dared to even acknowledge you.

“Henry.” He straightened up in his seat at your small voice. You were just staring at him, wide eyed, frozen. You couldn’t feel your limbs. This was not right.

“Hi, darling.” You noticed the twinge of nervousness in his tone and you finally felt your body tremble a little bit. You could feel the adrenaline rushing all over as your stomach flipped inside out.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that.” You stuttered, looking away from him, anywhere, but your vision was blurry, hazy even. Was the alcohol finally hitting you? Right now? No, that wasn’t it. No.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s nice to see you’re… fine.” How fucking dare he say that to you? The pent-up anger was rising in your throat like vile, but then it was just a feeling of pure humiliation as you remembered the two pregnant women you saw today. Something that could have happened to you if he hadn’t gone cheating on you with your best friend. If he hadn’t tricked you. If they hadn’t done an illegal thing to you.

“Fine…” You scoffed at him, still with a lost look in your eyes, not wanting to look at him. Your tongue was hurting you, your throat was closing up on you, and you felt every inch of your body wanting to rip open.

“I– I asked your mom where you went… She didn’t really want to give me any details, and that was fair but… I didn’t think I would need a business trip to meet you here.” You finally dared to look at him. Why was he saying these things to you? Why did he even care to talk to you after what he’d done to you?

“I did the divorce papers, and I left, and you should be fucking thankful I didn’t have the energy to take legal action for what you two did to me.” Your mouth was moving all by itself as you talked to him, and Henry sighed, giving a nod your way.

“I know, I know, but– I never got to tell you I am sor–”

“Don’t you even fucking dare to go there.” You wanted to smash the beer in his face. You wanted to bolt out of there. You needed to run. You felt your fingers having an itch to connect to his face in a fist. Did he think the word ‘sorry’ would mend things up? Did he think he would redeem himself with that stupid single word?

“I know we hurt you, but I’m honestly glad you’re alright–”

“Alright? Alright… Yes… In another city, away from my own mother. Yes. I am alright.” He noticed the sarcasm in your voice, the hatred and the pain displayed in your eyes and when you stared at him you couldn’t help but remember how your hand felt over the swollen belly. How the baby moved inside. How it felt to touch something you might never have. How it felt to touch the one thing you thought he would help you in getting.

“You need to calm down, I just– I just wanted to say hi–”

“Hello.”

Now that voice you recognized. Your head turned to your left as well as Henry’s did. You saw how Eddie’s gaze was trained on him. How he was scanning every inch of your ex husband, not knowing it was him. You– You wanted to leave. You wanted to run away.

“Who are you?” Henry asked as he looked at you and then back at Eddie. He pointed back and forth, “Do you know him?”

“Yes… a friend.” Eddie’s eyes only looked at you when he noticed how small your voice was. You knew he felt something was wrong, and it seems he realized you were not going to introduce the two of them.

“I’m Eddie. You are?” You just stood there, staring at Henry as the asshole smiled politely, sticking his hand out.

“I’m Henry. Um… Her Ex-Husband. Old friend.”

You could feel how silent everything went between the three of you. You turned to look at Eddie and– His eyes were staring at Henry’s face. You noticed a vein popping on the side of his neck, and even with all the tattoos, you started to notice the redness that was starting to slowly appear. Your senses were slowly coming back to you as your intuition was telling you that something was going to happen.

“Henry… huh.” Eddie’s voice was low, sending chills down your spine. You didn’t expect Eddie to take Henry’s hand, shaking it slowly. You could use Eddie as a scapegoat, tell Henry to go away, or maybe you could leave, but– “Yeah, I know you.”

And then it was a blur. First you were watching how Eddie was shaking your ex-husband’s hand, and the next, Eddie had pulled him towards him and head-butted Henry right in the middle of the forehead. Then it was a punch. Then another. Then on the floor. Then more punches. You could hear yelling, screaming, Jonathan pulling Eddie away from Henry with your help.

You saw Henry on the floor, holding his face, his nose all bloody, a busted lip. How many punches did Eddie throw? You weren’t sure. Your body was moving, but your mind was not registering anything of what was happening. There was a lot of yelling, Nancy and Robin grabbing you and pulling you out of the bar with Eddie and Jonathan.

Your eyes caught sight of Eddie still screaming, yelling, his eyes could have been red from the fury that you could feel emanating from him. Jonathan was screaming too as well as Nancy, maybe trying to calm Eddie down, but all you could focus on was the man that just hit your ex-husband square in the face.

“We need to get out of here. Let’s get her home.” Was that Robin or Nancy? You didn’t know. You just felt yourself being moved, slowly regaining your senses back. You could hear Eddie talking to the girls as you all got into his car, wondering where he drives first.

“I want to be alone.” You were still looking at Eddie and he understood your sign. You could see the bit of confusion in his face that you decided to be with him, instead of Robin.

“You sure?” Robin was asking next to you, even with the slurring in her tongue, you knew she was worried for you. You appreciated it, you nodded at her but– You didn’t need her. You didn’t know what you needed. You needed a distraction as the images came back to your head, the alcohol finally hitting you after the adrenaline that just happened.

You felt your heart bursting as you got inside the passenger’s seat, Nancy and Robin in the back. Eddie was still looking your way, but all you could do was stare forward as he got into the driver’s seat. The car was moving, the lights were passing but all you could see were the smiling women holding their bellies. Henry and Camila in your bed fucking after your third consecutive procedure.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

Why here? Why did he have to have business here? Why? It wasn’t fair. Was he alone? You didn’t check if he had remarried. You didn’t want to check. You shouldn’t want to. Why would you want to? To see the people that hurt you have what they took away from you? What if Camila was also pregnant? Maybe she was. Maybe she fucking was by now.

It wasn’t fair.

“Call me if you need anything. I’ll be here.” You felt a kiss on your temple and you knew Robin had leaned forward from in between the passenger’s and driver’s seats and planted a kiss there. Or was it just pressure?

The car’s doors opened and closed and then it was just the wooden scent cologne and yourself. The drive started again, and you felt so numb. You felt dead. You needed to feel alive again, and Eddie might help with that. You needed Eddie. You wanted Eddie.

The car ride was silent, and you couldn’t even look at him. It was humiliating for you that he met the man that fucked you over. That broke you. You didn’t want Eddie to be looking at you with worry or pity. You didn’t need that. You didn’t need people to feel sorry for you. You are strong, and you have been strong until now.

You weren’t going to break. Not again.

The moment he parked, he looked your way as you got out of the car and you motioned for him to follow you. It was silent, it was too silent, but you just needed to reach your apartment. With Eddie.

The moment you two walked inside your apartment, you felt the heat all over your body, the adrenaline, the emotions just traveling in every blood cell and white cell. You walked towards the couch as you heard the door closing, and you plopped down.

“Peach… are you alright?” You heard his voice, but you could hardly register what he was asking. You felt the couch dip beside you and you turned your head to finally look at him and– He was looking at you with the eyes you didn’t want. He was staring at you with that pitiful look in his face that you didn’t need.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, which made him blink your way and you didn’t even register your movements, that you were already climbing up on his lap, his eyes wide in surprise as you cradled his face in your hands. Your lips connected to his and you sighed in relief as you felt the warmth of his kiss against yours.

Your hips swayed against him, and you felt him groan into the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, flushing your body against him. His hands grabbed onto your waist, his head pulling back for a second as your breath hit his lips.

“Peach, hold on–” You didn’t listen, your head in overdrive as you kissed him again, this time a little more forcefully than before. You didn’t want to think and you didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to remember any of the events of today or from a year prior. You just needed to feel some warmth, some release. Your chest was against his as your hips kept moving against his, making you sigh into his mouth.

You took this opportunity to let go of him, not breaking the kiss, so you could take off your blazer and throw it away. You didn’t care for much right now, just that you needed to feel him. That you needed him. That you needed to shut your brain down with pleasure, but Eddie was not following your plan, which was making you grow irritated, desperate. He pulled away from your lips again, trying to talk once more.

“Hang on, for just a second–” And you didn’t let him. Your head dove into his neck, biting it gently, eliciting a grunt from his part.

“I need it.” Your voice was a whisper into his skin, your hands traveling to go underneath his shirt, ready to rip it away from him. The images need to go away. The memories need to disappear. Everything needs to go away.

“Sweetheart–” You started kissing on his pulse point, your hips rubbing once more against him, and you could feel the bulge that started appearing but– He ripped you away from him, roughly, grabbing onto your biceps tightly. He was breathing heavily as he glared at you, and your eyes finally found his.

“Ed–”

“You don’t need this. You don’t need me like this… You need something else, Peach… I can give that too.”

You just looked at him for a good while. This man that you consider a best friend at this point, despite what the two of you do behind closed doors and under your friends’ noses. Your eyes looked towards the hand that was holding your left bicep and– His knuckles were bloody. His knuckles were red and his skin had been cut. He hurt himself to hurt the man that hurt you.

And everything started sinking in.

Your eyes started burning with the incoming tears as you couldn’t handle the pain. The anger. The sadness. The disappointment. The humiliation you suffered. The struggle of seeing the cause of your pain once again after a year of running away from it.

Your body shook as tears started leaving your eyes and going down your cheeks. You turned to look at him again, his eyes finding yours, telling you he was here. Telling you he was not going anywhere. You needed Eddie, just not in the way you thought. Your body shook aggressively three times thanks to trying to hold back sobs, only for the fourth one to finally come out.

Then it was one after the other. Eddie’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you flush to him, laying your head on his shoulder as he let you cry on him. Once again, he was holding you as you cried. He was holding you through something you didn’t think you were going to relive again. You let out cries of pain, staining his shirt with your tears and makeup, but he didn’t care. He never pulled you off him. His hands rubbed your back as he rocked you from side to side and you couldn’t help but just cling to him.

You needed Eddie like this. You wanted Eddie like this.

You wanted Eddie to hold you all day. To tell you that everything was going to be alright. That everything was going to work out. You wanted him to kiss you, to forget, yet to not do more than just that. You wanted Eddie to keep holding you like this, close to him. You wanted more than just the roughness of a kiss or the insinuating touch.

But it was a thought that your burdened and drunken mind could focus on tomorrow. Right now, you have to cry. You have to cry about the unfairness. You have to cry about what could have been. You are letting yourself cry and he is holding you and rocking you from side to side, soft shushes in your ears–

“I’m here, Peach… I got you, baby. I got you.”

And when you closed your eyes, you drifted off. You were expecting that in your sleep you would be encountered with nightmares of your past, images of the memories that consumed your being. Instead, you dreamed of your friends. Instead, you dreamed of someone. Instead, you dreamed that somehow, somebody, was telling you to not lose hope. To not let a low life make you think you are not worthy of something like that. Of a family.

Your eyes opened to the sunlight entering your room through the sheer curtains. You winced slightly at the brightness, turning your head to find yourself all alone in your bed. You were wearing a shirt, some sleeping shorts, and you don’t really remember changing. You slowly sat up on your bed, wincing as you felt your body a little sore for some reason, and your neck was stiff.

Your cell phone caught your eyes, and you reached over to grab it, seeing that it was 10 AM. You scrolled through the screen, seeing a message from Robin, Nancy, Jonathan… Everyone was wondering how you were doing. You replied to everyone, telling them you were okay, and in all honesty… you felt lighter. You had overslept, missing work, and there was simple message from Liana telling you Robin told her you felt sick and to get better. You had the day off.

God bless Robin.

The sound of a pan falling outside your bedroom door startled you, making you jump. Oh, Eddie stayed. He didn’t go home. He stayed with you until the morning. Your heart rocked in your chest from side to side and you didn’t mind it this time. You didn’t tell it to calm down. Your feet found the floor, and you walked towards the door, slowly opening it and walking out towards your kitchen to see Eddie cursing as he scrambled some eggs.

He was shirtless, wearing his boxers only, and your eyes trained on the couch. You winced slightly because of your behavior from last night. You tried to jump his bones when he was trying to stop you, and you feel so pathetic and little for falling into that dark place. You had to apologize and thank him for everything. Your eyes trained on his back, and you felt your stomach flipping inside, or were they butterflies? Nerves?

“Eds–”

You saw him jump and basically screech, making your eyes go wide as your hand covered your mouth, containing a snort at the display. He turned around to look at you, spatula in one hand, the pan on the other.

“You fucking scared me Peach, I didn’t think you would wake up until later.” He sighed, letting the air he gasped in when he got scared out. You couldn’t help but smile as he turned around and continued cooking. “The eggs are almost done, and also, you have a four-bread toaster, now that’s fancy shit.”

“I won it at one of my company’s raffles.” Your voice was calm, walking over to the island counter to sit on one of the stools. You rested your elbows on the marble and put your chin on your hands, and just watched him. You watched him move in your kitchen as if he had always done this. Acting as if this is a common thing you two do every time you hook up with eachother, but this is one of the rare times you two had breakfast together.

“Oh, can you get me one?”

“You can literally buy it at any electronics store!” You giggled, and he turned around with a cheeky smile on his face that made you crumble a little in your seat.

“It feels better when you win something.” He turned around and turned off the stove, dumping the scrambled eggs on two plates that already had two pieces of toast each. You felt pressure in your chest, a good one, as he turned around and placed the plate in front of you before he opened the fridge, taking out water and juice. He sat on the counter after placing them in front of the two of you and he presented it with both his hands. “Ta-da!”

You smiled at the plate before you, sitting up straight as you grabbed the water to pour yourself some in your glass, as Eddie served himself some juice. It felt domestic. Right.

“We’ll see how good these eggs are, Munson.” He huffed at you as he grabbed a toast and placed some of the eggs on it with a fork.

“I make the best eggs in all Indiana, sweetheart.” He boosted himself as he took a big bite. Your smile faded as you saw the bruises and the bandaids on his knuckles. You dropped your fork as your hands moved quickly to hold on to his hand, making him almost drop the toast. He winced as he tried to chew– “Easy.”

“You hurt yourself.” His eyes clashed with yours as your body turned completely on the stool to face him. He sighed as he swallowed the bite, getting his hand out of your grasp to put the toast down.

“He got it worse. I’m sorry, I couldn’t… contain myself when I realized who he was. I couldn’t help it.” He wasn’t really looking at you, but his jaw was clenched and you knew he was still angry, which instead of confusing you, it only made you happy. It made you feel cared for by someone.

“So you… punched him to defend my honor?” You tried to play it off with a small chuckle, but his eyes turned to look at you, serious, filled with something you couldn’t really decipher.

“Every punch I delivered yesterday was not even close enough to what he deserves. What he did, what they did to you… you didn’t deserve any of that.” Your smile had fallen, your eyes burning as you kept staring at him. Your jaw clenched as you felt the beginning of a lump forming in your throat.

“You didn’t… have to do it… but thank you…” He softly smiled at you, giving you a small nod.

“Yeah… I’m kind of banned from going to Jonathan’s bar for a while though… he got mad at me, pretty bad.” He chuckled nervously, and you winced a bit, looking down at your hands, feeling guilty at the situation. He went silent for a second, and he was probably deliberating if to talk about this with you or not. “Robin told us… about why you’re going into training.”

Your blood went cold once again, the memories of yesterday coming back. The news you received. The opportunity those news gave you. The emotions you felt the day before were too much… too much that you crashed out.

“I… yeah…” Your voice was small and fragile. You hated that you sounded like this but– at the same time you didn’t care he was hearing it. You didn’t know why you didn’t care, but you just didn’t. His body turned to face you, his hands pressing on your knees as he leaned to talk to you. Your eyes found his and you suddenly felt… warm.

“It will happen for you…” He stared at you for a while before he continued, “Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” Your eyebrow perked up in question and he nodded, his face serious with a glint of mischief and something else.

“When we turn 30, and if we are single… I’ll give you one.”

Your world stopped for a second. Maybe two. Three? What was he saying?

“I… what?” You were shocked, stunned, not really sure if what just came out of his lips was real or if you had hallucinated it. He gave you a fond smile, his teeth showing.

“If we are single when we turn thirty, I’ll sign any papers you need, and we’ll have a baby together.” Your eyebrows twitched as your eyes kept burning and your body was trying to react in a way that you couldn’t contain much longer.

“Why… I– You would have a kid… You are willing to have a baby with me? You don’t have to feel… sorry for me…” You were trying to not let your voice crack at the prospect of it. He was promising you a baby. This man in front of you, your friend, your best friend, the man you are fucking in a recurrent manner is promising to give you a baby if the time came that you didn’t have one yet, and both of you were without a partner.

“I want kids. I want a family too someday, and I honestly– Don’t think…” He bit his tongue for a second before continuing, “And I think that you would be the greatest mom in the entire world, so… it’s a win win for me.”

This is the first time you heard him say he wanted kids. This is the first time you heard him say he wants a family in the future, something you didn’t know at all. Something that was making you melt and crumble in your stool.

You didn’t know what this meant. You didn’t know what anything of what he was saying meant but you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and– Was his heart racing the way yours was? His stomach nervously hurting like yours was? The hairs on his arms standing on end like yours were?

“Eddie, you… You are promising something– something so fucking huge.” His smile fell a little, and he nodded, his eyes staring into yours as he talked.

“And you are the only one I trust enough to make this promise to.” You slowly shook your head at him, thinking this was insane, but– you wouldn’t mind it. Having Eddie’s baby? It didn’t sound entirely wrong. Maybe not even a little bit wrong.

“You’re… insane.” You couldn’t help it as you let out a snort, and he nodded, a chuckle escaping him.

“Maybe… so, deal, Peach?” His eyes were sincere as they looked at you, and you realized he meant every single word. He meant everything he said. Everything he promised. Maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he gets a girlfriend or maybe you find…

“Deal.” You responded quickly, and he smiled widely, straightening up and putting his hand out for you to shake. You took a deep trembling breath in as you smiled and shook his hand.

“Nice doing business with you, fair lady.” You giggled and shook your head, your hand holding his. You inspected his knuckles with your fingers and you slowly raised it up to your lips. You didn’t watch his reaction, but you felt him fall in complete silence as he sat still in front of you. You finally let a tear roll down your cheek as you brush your lips against his knuckles.

“Thank you…” You softly whispered, and he leaned forward, your breathing cutting short when you felt him press his lips against your forehead. You could combust in the spot as you felt warmth invade you, your body flushing completely from head to toe.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” He pulled away and you let go of his hand, looking up at him.

“I’m also sorry… for my behavior… last night.” You were embarrassed as you spoke and he shook his head at you, letting you know he understood.

“It’s okay. You snapped out, which is what matters here.” You two stared at one another as he wiped the tear that fell from your eye and you just… wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hug him and hold him and… He cleared his throat as he turned towards his plate. “We should eat.”

You nodded and turned to your plate as well, putting some egg on your toast and bringing it to your mouth. The toast wasn’t as crispy because it got cold now, as well as the eggs, but the taste was sublime, yet, you couldn’t not give him shit for it.

“Mmm… not bad.” Was your comment and Eddie turned to look at you as if he were the most offended person on the planet.

“You take that back and say they’re delicious. It’s not my fault they got cold!” You laughed at him as he kept telling you everything he did with the eggs, and everything felt so right. He wasn’t here to get lucky like all those other times. He wasn’t here because he felt like he had to. He wanted to. He wanted to be with you and cheer you up.

And he did. You cleaned the dishes afterwards as he grabbed your erotica novels and started reciting paragraphs just to piss you off. You laughed as he made up the different voices, moaning when the book said it, or grunting stupidly, and you threw your wet right glove to his face.

He gasped, rushing towards you so he could rub the glove on your face, making you squeal and try to push him away in disgust. You two laughed as the glove fell on the floor, his arms still holding you close to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you breathed heavily, his face close to yours and you just…

“I should go home…” He whispered, and you really wanted him to spend the day with you but you knew Robin was going to come to your house at lunch or even earlier, so you nodded slowly.

“Yeah… Robin might just… appear…” He gulped and your lip twitched as you felt your body burn wildly, and you wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him. Change the dynamic of your goodbyes, but what if he didn’t want that? What if you were reading all of this wrong? Were you?

But he beat you to it, his jaw clenching as he talked softly, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I don’t want anything… just…” You nodded desperately at him and he leaned forward to finally kiss you. It was soft, tender, and it made every single one of your worries leave your body. You didn’t know why he was kissing you, but you knew why you were kissing him back. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer as your lips smacked with one another’s.

He hummed in between the kiss and you felt his arms and hands holding you in a way you haven’t felt in a long while. You stayed like that for a few seconds before he begrudgingly pulled away, licking his lips as you looked at him, and you didn’t want to let him go, but you had to.

“So… I’ll… see you later?” You asked, filled with hope, and he gave you a small smile, nodding slowly as he leaned to give you a soft peck on the lips, melting you on the spot.

“Yeah. I’ll message you later. Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“You’ve done enough, Eddie…” He chuckled and shook his head at you.

“Okay, so I guess you won’t need my scrambled eggs anymore.” You gasped, shaking your head at him, and he smiled triumphantly. “Ah, so my eggs were, in fact, delicious.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pulling away from him to flick him on the right nipple making him squeal and cover it. You saw him walk to your bedroom, and you probably didn’t even notice the pile of clothes he left on the floor or on the desk. You were just staring at his retreating back as you bit your bottom lip, wondering if you should ask him to just stay, to tell Robin to not worry and not come over but you knew that she would not have it.

When he returned he was all dressed, feeling the keys in his pocket as well as his wallet and phone, making sure he had everything as you put the gloves to dry over the sink counter. You walked to the front door with him, opening the door as he looked at you with something that just told you it was right to do what you wanted to do. So you rose on your tippy toes to give him a peck on the lips to which he returned with another one.

“Bye Eddie… thank you again.” You couldn’t help but keep thanking him, and he took it, smiling down at you.

“Don’t mention it. Bye, Peach.” He walked out, and you waited for him to get to the elevator. He gave you a salute as he got inside and the doors closed before him. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in and closed your door, leaving you alone in your home once again.

You rested against it, looking down at the floor as your heart beat to an incredible speed, your stomach filled with something you couldn’t deny were butterflies. Butterflies you have been feeling for a long while. Butterflies you faked by calling them nerves or anxiety or adrenaline whenever you saw him.

He didn’t promise what he promised just because you were sad. He didn’t just make a promise in order to make you happy. He made a deal with you that felt true even if it’s years away and you don’t even know if Eddie Munson would still be in your life. But fuck, you hoped he did. You hoped he did and that you two would be in a different situation than you are right now.

Because you didn’t want to just hook up with him. It’s time you came to terms with that fact. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to spend time with him. You wanted to invite him to dinner, watch movies with you, play games, and you were hoping that this new change meant something to him as much as it meant to you.

And suddenly the troubles from yesterday were nonexistent. The troubles from yesterday and the memories were not as painful as they had hurt you the day before. You knew it was thanks to him. You knew that Robin would not have possibly made you feel the way you are today, and that is mean to say, but he filled the dark hole that resided in your mind. He knew what you needed when you didn’t even know it yourself.

You needed him. In more ways than one could possibly imagine. You don’t know how you will tackle the relationship now that you came to terms with this. You don’t know how you should act or what you should say to him. You don’t know how to tell him you don’t want him to see someone else. You don’t know how to tell him you want him all for yourself. You don’t know how to tell him all of that without giving yourself away.

Because you’re fucked.

Because you like him.

You like Eddie Munson. You really like Eddie Munson.

end of chapter 21

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bvidzsoo · 2 hours ago

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Minaaaa, my lovely Mina, let me munch on your cheeks, you're literally so sweet my jaw was on the floor reading this...like SHUT UP

Ngl I was surprised when you said you'd be pushing back reading this cuz DAFUQ Hongjoong is literally your man, but priorities first, I guess-ahahaha, luv u don't come for me ok bye.

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Man, keep your toes under the blanket tonight because I might just find them...you always say stuff that just makes me go AUDHIFBIIHFNKABSDKGF-

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭 It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

I feel like you somehow always have beef with my male leads and idk if it's funny or if it's starting to make me sad AHAHAHA, Hongjoong was tryna do good but my mans was smoked out and also just...trying to help lmao. I didn't even intend to make him mysterious, but I'm certainly fine with it coming off like that. Our man, Hongjoong, is far from being perfect so it's good mister didn't get away with anything haha.

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet.

Lmao this sent me into a laughing fit cuz honestly...same, bestie, same. That man would've ended up with water tossed in his face minimum, and then would've come the hands throwing.

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analyze me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

I guess this is how long your distaste for him lasted HAHA, I'm glad you'd rather have him [redacted] you than hate on him until the end of the drabble...wink wink

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

tbh I haven't even thought about this, but them introducing each other later on felt more organic, so yup, you're right...they did grow into acquittances at last.

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

...maybe? 👀👀

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

I hadn't even considered the fact that the Hongjoong in my story resembles the one irl, but I guess my subconscious is stronger since it worked without me even thinking of it ahahaha...but with that said, I'm glad I could make Hongjoong nuanced and true to his character, and he really did feel like he'd caught God's hand when the MC so easily saw through his art, seeing Hongjoong as he was and what he stood for. All in all...these two are a good pairing and I can assure you they have a happy future lined up in front of them ACK.

Thank you Minaa for reading and for possibly being my biggest supporter...? hehe, luv u lots<3

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn��t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I��” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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