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1800-fight-me · 2 months ago

Text

Future

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: E (Explicit-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, explicit PiV sex as well as oral sex (M&F receiving), breeding kink, and daddy kink (oof) Word count: A little over 8.3k Synopsis: Logan goes back to the past in an attempt to save the world, but more importantly- you. (Set in X-Men Days of Future Past and switches between Logan and Reader's POV) Author’s note: Something about Logan makes me absolutely insane to the point that I wrote the longest most explicit sex scene I've ever written.... please enjoy P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

LOGAN’S POV

The future was dark and bleak. A war of uncontrollable violence, more than Logan had ever seen in his long life.

The only bright spot in such a horrific future was you. You were the peace and rest his aching soul had long been searching for.

It started as two people seeking solace and relief in one another, but the foundation of friendship created something so much more significant than either of you could have predicted.

You became the planet around which he orbited. The home he never thought he’d find. The balm to his raging fire.

Despite the hell that was life in the future, he had you. It was fitting that it caused the world falling to shit for him to finally find you.

His self deprecating thoughts also told him that it was fitting that he lost you too. He didn’t deserve a love so pure and bright. He didn’t deserve such happiness when everyone else he cared about was either suffering or dead.

All the blood on his hands left him marked, scarred, filthy down to his soul. But you looked past all of that, claimed you loved him anyway, claimed him.

He was yours completely, worshiped at the altar of your affection, would go any lengths for you- do anything you ask.

He would do anything to protect you, and it was the biggest black mark on his soul, after an extended lifetime full of mistakes, that he wasn’t able to protect you when it mattered the most.

He shredded the sentinels, the unkillable soldiers in his rage, but one had slipped past his defenses, used your own healing powers against you and sucked the life right from you. Snuffed out your bright light all too soon.

He killed, and killed, and killed- and it still didn’t bring you back.

No one and nothing but him made it out of that abandoned warehouse that night. It was the tipping point for him, it made him bloodthirsty and reckless. It made him willing to go along with Charles and Eric’s ridiculous plan.

As he laid down on the stone slab and allowed the young mutant to send him to the past, his thoughts were only on you.

Everyone knew what his hopes were, but it went unspoken for fear it wouldn’t come true. Logan went back to the past with the desperate desire that he would wake up in a future in which you were still alive. A future he hadn’t already destroyed with the worst mistake he’d ever made. A better future. One you deserved, he would give you anything and everything you asked if he could bring you back.

He woke in 1973 in the arms of a woman who wasn’t you, a woman he didn’t really remember. He hadn’t met you yet in 1973, unfortunately it would be a long while before he met you. And besides, he didn’t have time to search for you, he only had enough time for his mission.

He could only hold onto the hope that he would see you again in the future, if he could change things for the better- if he could finally do something right.

You were his motivation through dealing with younger versions of Charles and Eric, through all the missteps and mistakes, he tried his best to not lose hope.

One last chance, after the mess that was Paris, this intervention was the only possibility of setting things right.

They had to prevent Raven from killing Trask at this ridiculous anti-mutant presentation. Logan was inclined to agree with Raven at this point, but he knew the outcome of that decision and it was one he couldn’t live with.

He and Hank made their way through the large crowds as Hank pushed Charles’ wheelchair, all focused only on their task at hand. Logan scanned the crowd, looking for Mystique despite the fact that Charles would be the only one able to find her.

A voice met his ears, one that made his spine go rod straight. A voice he had unconsciously trained himself to seek out over years.

“I really don’t want to be here,” the voice grumbled.

Logan whipped his head to the left so quickly that if it was possible he probably would have given himself whiplash.

It was you.

His heart pounded harder than it had in the entirety of his two hundred something years.

He stopped dead in his tracks and it was a force of will to not stare at you with his mouth hanging open.

You looked different, but the same. You were younger obviously, your hairstyle and clothes were completely different, but that was you.

His hand ached with the need to hold you, just one more time.

“Please, I get extra credit for attending this thing and I can’t fail my government class,” the woman who he assumed was your friend whined as she clutched at your wrist.

He did a mental tally in his head. Of course, he should’ve remembered that in the early seventies you were in a college not too far from Washington DC. It really wasn’t a huge coincidence that you would be here, but still it felt monumental.

You looked over at her and huffed in resignation.

God, you were cute, he thought.

“Besides, maybe you can meet a handsome guy here. That would lift your spirits, wouldn’t it?” your friend said as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and said, “This isn’t a bar, Jenna. This is anti-mutant government propaganda bullshit.”

As did so often, he agreed with you.

She pouted at you. “Well what if I promise to take you to a bar right after this ends?”

You looked over at her in exasperated fondness and let her pull you forward, closer to where Logan and Hank stood in the crowd.

Hank was saying something to him, something he didn’t hear - his attention entirely on you, and he snapped his head back to Hank as he shook his shoulder.

“What?” Logan snapped.

“Who are you looking at? Do you see Raven?” Hank asked.

Logan took a deep breath and said, “No. I’m looking at my wife.”

“Oh no,” Hank muttered.

“Logan you can’t-“

”It’s not safe for her here,” Logan growled.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

“Look, that guy is looking at you,” Jenna whispered in your ear.

You followed her line of sight and saw the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

He was exactly your type and in tight jeans to boot. He was huge- tall and extremely muscular. His dark hair was the kind of neat disheveled that begged you to run your fingers through it. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses but you could feel his intense gaze through them.

“Holy shit he’s good looking,” you murmured and your friend giggled.

He looked over at who you assumed was his friend and you continued to take him in. You weren’t sure you’d ever checked out a stranger in such a blatant manner before. There was something about him so inviting, despite his tense posture and intense demeanor, that your mouth was practically watering.

“The guy next to him is cute too. Maybe we should go talk to them,” Jenna said.

You tore your eyes from the object of your lust, and looked at the man next to him. He was cute in a nerdy way- exactly Jenna’s type. There was a third man with them, he was in a wheelchair and had his fingers to his temple as he scanned the crowd clearly in search of something or someone important.

“I think they’re coming to us,” you said as the nerdy guy walked towards you.

But unfortunately, the one you wanted to come closer didn’t, he stayed with his companion in the wheelchair and bent down to whisper something in his ear.

“Hey ladies,” the man in glasses said as he approached you and Jenna.

She immediately began to smile and twirl her hair around her finger as she spoke with him eagerly.

He introduced himself as Hank and you shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, but your eyes continued to drift behind him to the other man, the one who you felt an inexplicable tug toward.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your words an interruption to whatever Hank had been saying to Jenna.

Hank looked stressed, but you looked back at the large man only a stone's throw away.

He looked up and made eye contact with you, he must have taken his sunglasses off while you weren’t paying attention. Never before had you felt so stripped bare by just meeting a man’s eyes, there was a whirlwind of emotions within them- something akin to familiarity, possibly even love, and hunger.

It took several moments of drowning in his gaze before you regained your wits about you. You smirked at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest, which made him appear even larger as his muscles flexed. He raised a brow at you, but his lips were upturned in a small smile as if he was smiling despite himself.

You crooked a finger at him, an invitation to come closer.

He smiled and shook his head slightly, almost as if he were reprimanding himself but also couldn’t help himself. He turned his head and said something to his friend in the wheelchair before he strutted over to you.

Every long stride he took towards you led to a tightening in your chest. It wasn’t fear, no, it was yearning. There was something inside you that wanted- no, needed, to know him.

Your instincts were all wrong, he looked like a predator closing in on his prey, something about him sharp and animalistic as he approached you, and yet you felt at ease, intrigued, safe.

“Hi,” you breathed out as he reached you. He smirked and stood a bit closer than would be normal for a stranger, but you didn’t mind at all as you looked up at his towering figure.

He introduced himself in a low gravelly voice that sent a shiver down your spine and hearing his name was like an answer to a question you didn’t even know you’d been asking.

Logan.

You told him your name and he had this secret smile as if he already knew what you were going to say.

He repeated your name, and something in you changed forever at the sound of it on his lips.

“How come you didn’t wanna come say hi?” You asked teasingly.

He looked at you and you felt more at home than ever before, which you knew sounded insane, but you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel.

“Oh I wanted to,” he said and warmth filled you as you smiled at him.

“Logan,” Hank hissed as he elbowed him.

You’d honestly forgotten that you and Logan weren’t the only two people in the world at that moment. You’d forgotten about Jenna, and Hank, and the teeming crowd of people around you.

“I know,” Logan replied to Hank in a grumpy tone that made you huff a small laugh.

“Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you need to leave. This isn’t safe,” Logan said fervently as he placed a large hand gently on your upper arm.

You scrunched your brows at him in confusion.

“Is this some kind of ploy to get me to leave with you?” You joked.

He chuckled, the sound from deep in his chest, and you grinned.

“If only,” he said. “No, pretty girl, I have to stay here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” you said.

His thumb rubbed up and down your arm in a way that was both comforting and familiar.

He glanced over at your friend, and as he saw that she was deep in conversation with Hank, he leaned closer to you in order to whisper in your ear.

“This isn’t a safe place for mutants,” he murmured, urgency in his voice.

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes, shock evident in your expression.

“How do you know-“ you gasped quietly.

He shook his head, “I’m one too, I can explain everything later, but please- for your own safety sweetheart, please leave.”

You met his gaze and something about the urgency and care you found in his eyes made you believe him.

“I suppose I’ll take your word for it. There’s a bar across town called McClarin’s, will you meet me there tonight? You can buy me a drink and explain all this weirdness.” You said.

There was a flash of something akin to sadness in his eyes, but he gave you a tight smile and said, “Of course, I’ll be there. I’d do anything you ask.”

You believed him.

So you turned your head to your friend and said, “Jenna, we’re leaving.”

You ignored her protests and stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek.

His hazel eyes fluttered closed, as if he were savoring the feeling of your lips against his skin.

“Until tonight,” you said as you slipped your hand in Jenna’s. He nodded in agreement and you turned and walked away from him.

“Why are we leaving?” Jenna complained.

“They’re going to meet us at the bar later, we can watch the broadcast on the TV,” you said.

She huffed but agreed as you led her out of the crowd and towards safety.

A little while later you sat at the bar with Jenna- you ate pretzels and nursed a beer, and watched the news.

Logan had been right, it was a dangerous situation for mutants.

Tears filled your eyes and your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched as Logan was massacred by Magneto. His body was violently filled with pieces of metal and then thrown so far the cameras didn’t catch where he landed.

He had to be dead, no one survived something like that. He saved your life and then didn’t survive the fight he protected you from.

None of the news outlets had any information on your mysterious savior.

You spent the evening calling both hospitals and morgues and no one had any knowledge of Logan or even a John Doe that matched his description.

Weeks went by with no news. There was a hole in your heart, which seemed ridiculous considering you’d only met him once, but there was something about a promise unfulfilled.

There was a feeling as if your future had been altered completely, as if Logan was supposed to be a part of it but now he never would be.

————————————————-

Your mutant ability to heal others and yourself led you to work in a hospital as a nurse after you completed all of your schooling.

Years passed and you met Storm when she literally landed in your hospital, as in she was thrown by an enemy and crashed through the ceiling.

You stared at her in shock, then jumped towards her and used your powers to heal the gash in her stomach where blood had already begun pooling. She thanked you before flying off into battle once more.

Once the fight was won, Storm came back and asked you to come with her to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You were intrigued and soon found yourself as a professor of health sciences, part time school nurse, and an X-Man on the side. You weren’t much of a fighter, during missions you really mostly hung back and healed the injured X-Men as well as any civilians fought in the crossfire.

It was a fulfilling life, one you enjoyed immensely, but something always felt like it was missing. You dated a bit but being so busy prevented anything deep.

There was no spark, no instant connection with anyone like there had been with Logan. You supposed it really was a once in a lifetime experience.

It didn’t help that you weren’t interested in anyone romantically that you worked with. Storm, who had quickly become a great friend, encouraged you to give Hank a chance when he pursued you. You tried, he was nice, but it just wasn’t love, and after a few months you ended it. Luckily you were able to remain as friends.

Time passed and Professor X pointed out to you that you didn’t appear to age. At first you brushed him off as ridiculous, but eventually consented to let Jean run tests on you.

As it turned out, your ability to heal yourself extended to things such as diseases and life’s natural course of aging.

Eternity yawned its horrid mouth open before you and the loneliness of it threatened to swallow you whole.

You took a leave of absence to avoid others seeing you in the midst of an existential crisis. You traveled for a couple of months, took time to see the world in a way you never had before, met beautiful strangers, and came to terms with the fact that it was likely you would never die, that any connections you did make would die long before you were ever ready.

You decided to make the most of life, embrace the joy and the hurt, and returned home.

As soon as you walked through the door of the mansion, everything felt different, but perhaps it was you that was changed so irrevocably.

You made your way towards Professor X’s office and literally ran into a man as he walked out.

“Ugh,” you groaned as your face squished into a broad chest. The body you slammed into was so sturdy the man didn’t even stumble, he merely placed large hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Woah there, speedy. You alright?” A deep voice said. Something about that voice tickled something in the back of your brain, a memory from years ago.

“Sorry!,” you exclaimed as you stepped back and looked up to see his face.

“Logan,” you breathed out in surprise as you finally saw him. He looked nearly the same as all those years ago. His hair and clothes were slightly different, but it was definitely him. He was as handsome as the day you lost him.

He raised a brow in confusion as he looked at you.

“Have we met?” He asked.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The man of your dreams, the man you thought had died and yet you had continued to pine over for years, was standing before you and didn’t remember you. He didn’t remember meeting you, an experience that had been so cataclysmic in your life but apparently unimpressionable in his.

“Yes, many years ago,” you breathed out.

He looked you up and down and said, “Well, I really wish I remembered that.”

You huffed a laugh to cover up the ache in your heart as you looked down at your feet. You told him your name as his hands finally slipped from your shoulders, you mourned the loss of his touch.

As he repeated your name in that gravelly tone your heart thumped harder in your chest, despite yourself.

“I don’t remember anything before a few years ago,” he said.

“Oh?” You asked. Maybe it wasn’t that you were forgettable, it was just that he didn’t remember anything.

“What happened?” You breathed out.

Confusion and echoes of pain clouded his gorgeous hazel eyes. “I don’t remember, but I know it was painful,” he said.

You placed a hand on his arm in comfort and said, “Maybe the professor can help you figure it out.”

He nodded, “Not sure if I’ll be sticking around long enough. Being on a team isn’t really my thing.”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased with a wink, thinking back to the team he was clearly a part of back when you met him.

He grumbled something you didn’t quite catch at the same time Charles came out of his office to greet you.

You bid Logan goodbye as you followed Charles into his office to catch up after your extended absence.

Your heart still pounded from meeting Logan and you wore a grin you couldn’t prevent for several minutes.

And to your delight, you found out later in the day that Logan decided to stay. You weren’t sure what the deciding factor was, but you were happy all the same.

Maybe things would fall into place, perhaps your future could end up brighter than previously anticipated.

————————————————-

LOGAN’S POV

Logan awoke, the same song playing on the radio, your song. He lurched out of the bed and stumbled out of the room. As he opened the door wonder filled him as he realized he was in the mansion.

Children bustled past him as they went to their classes. Friends and family that were long since passed in his future smiled and waved at him as he walked through his home eyes full of wonder.

It had worked, all the effort and pain had been worth it, everything was as it should be. The only question that remained was you. Where were you?

He made his way to Charles’ office and sighed in relief when he saw him safe and alive.

His old friend welcomed him back to the future, a better future.

“Where is she?” He breathed out as Charles read his mind, getting a glimpse of his past.

“She’s here, she’s safe, but Logan you should know-“

At that moment you walked into Charles’ office and if Logan wasn’t already sitting he would’ve fallen to his knees. He’d never seen such a beautiful sight.

He breathed out your name like a prayer and you looked over at him. He didn’t even register the look on your face, he’d already made his way across the room and wrapped you in his arms.

“Logan,” you squeaked out. “What the hell?”

He lifted you up and buried his face in your neck.

“Can’t breathe,” you huffed as you pushed on his shoulders in an attempt to get him to release you from the vice hold he had you in.

He put you down and looked down at you, placed a hand on the side of your gorgeous face- it wasn’t until now that he took in your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You pulled back from him again, even went so far as to push his hand from you and took a step back.

“What’s gotten into you? Why the hell do you think you can just-” You asked in confusion, irritation coloring your tone.

He cut you off as he blurted out, “What? I don’t understand-“

“Logan, in this timeline you and her broke up,” Charles said.

“Broke up?” Logan asked with raised eyebrows, the words lacked any meaning to him. There was no future in which he and you were not together. It was inconceivable.

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. At the same time you asked, “this timeline?”

You both looked at one another in confusion.

“Sit, both of you, let me explain,” Charles said.

Logan sat and watched your expression change from suspiciousness to utter shock as Charles explained that Logan was from a different future, a different timeline, and had replaced the Logan you knew.

He didn’t remember anything after 1973, other than the horrible future he had come from. But he did remember the first time you met that day in Washington DC. Although for him that was far from the first time you’d met.

“That’s a lot of information. I think you broke my brain- that’s so confusing,” you breathed out.

Logan’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he tried to gauge your reaction.

You turned to him. “So in this future I’m guessing you and I are together?”

Logan nodded.

“Well not in this one,” you muttered and stood to leave.

“Wait, princess - talk to me,” Logan pleaded as he grabbed your hand.

You turned back and glared at him. “Logan, I don’t care which version of you it was, you broke my heart and I have no interest in sitting here listening to any more of this.”

You yanked your hand from his and stormed out of the office. You left him feeling helpless and empty.

He looked over at the Professor. “What happened?” He asked.

“It’s still fresh. The others have found her crying multiple times over the last few days. I tried not to pry but-“

“You went into her head,” Logan guessed and Charles nodded.

He prepared himself for the worst and the flicker of hope in his chest began to gutter. He would be devastated if after all of this he couldn’t be with you.

“The two of you have been together for about five years, were close friends for years before that, but she ended it about a week ago during an argument. She wanted to have a child and you didn’t,” Charles explained.

“That’s it? She wants a baby? I’ll give her a baby. I’ll give her whatever she wants, the version of me from this timeline must be a goddamn idiot,” Logan said sharply.

Charles chuckled. “I spoke to the other you yesterday, he had come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child, he was just letting his fears get in the way.”

“I have to go talk to her,” Logan practically growled as he stood and stalked out of the office in search of you.

It wasn’t difficult to find you. He had memorized the sound of your heartbeat, your scent, and was all too familiar with the salty tang of your tears.

He found you in a bedroom he assumed was yours, he knocked and let himself in despite your garbled yell of, “Go away!”

It was clear this was the makeshift room you’d moved into after the break up, your decorations were all in boxes, your clothes piled everywhere and spilled out of drawers, and everything all together more messy and haphazard than he knew you liked to keep things.

You sat curled in the bed as tears streamed down your sweet face.

“Go away Lo,“ you sniffled as you quickly wiped your tears away.

“Oh, my sweet girl-“ Logan said in a gentle voice only you knew.

“No, Logan I’m not yours anymore,” the words were weak and he could tell you didn’t even really mean them.

He came closer to the bed and you glared at him but didn’t say a word as he sat down and pulled you into his lap.

You sunk into his embrace and buried your face in his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly.

Your fingers tangled into his shirt, your breaths were shaky, and a few more tears managed to escape. His heart ached at the pain you were in.

“I changed the timeline of our universe to be with you. I’m not gonna let anything stand in our way. So, you want a baby, I’ll give you a baby. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you anything you want, I’d do anything for you. I love you,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“But-“

“And before you ask, Charles told me that the Logan in this future had come to the same conclusion and was planning on making things right with you today. In every timeline, I want to make you happy.”

He wiped the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Did we ever talk about kids in your future?” You asked in a soft vulnerable voice.

He held you tighter.

“Only once, but it wasn’t a possibility for us, that future was too dangerous. So dangerous that I lost you. I wouldn’t survive losing you again.”

At the pain in his voice you pulled back enough to meet his gaze.

“Tell me about that future,” you asked gently.

And so he did, every awful part of it as he held you in his arms and reminded himself that this was real, that you were safe and alive, that this was his new future.

You wiped the tear that slipped down his face as you looked up at him in awe.

“You did all that for me? For us?” You asked in wonder.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said fervently. You placed your hand on the side of his face and his eyes fluttered closed as he finally, finally received affection from you after so long.

He nuzzled his face into your hand, pressed his lips against the pulse point at your wrist, finally let himself sink into your intoxicating presence.

You slipped your hand into his hair and pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips. The weight of time without you pressed in on him and his self control snapped, with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, he crushed you against his body and kissed you with desperation.

He wanted to consume you, to sink inside you, to never be apart from you again.

You made a high pitched sweet sound of surprise before you kissed him just as fervently. He groaned into your mouth at the taste of you as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

It was absolute heaven.

This kiss could have gone on for hours or perhaps only seconds, he didn't know, no time was enough with you.

You pulled back and looked at him. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” he groaned and pressed his lips to yours repeatedly.

You breathed out a soft giggle at his expression of adoration.

He tilted his head back to look you deep in the eyes once more and said, “Let’s make a baby.”

You looked flustered and he thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

“Right now? I-“

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. I want to. Wanna give you want you want,” he moaned as he kissed you again.

“Missed you too,” you whimpered as his lips drifted across your jaw and down your throat.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

It was all consuming. He was everywhere all at once as he laid you on your back and pressed himself on top of you.

The weight and heat of him was both comforting and intoxicating. The last few hours had given you emotional whiplash, but it was Logan.

Apparently he was your soulmate no matter the timeline. He kissed you as if he were drowning and you were his breath of fresh air. He said everything you’d been dreaming of, and more as he declared his love and promised to fulfill your every desire.

There was nothing the two of you couldn’t overcome as a team. You loved him and he loved you, and maybe that was all that mattered.

As he bit down on your neck, all other thoughts flew from your head, it was just him. You and him- forever. There would be no long lonely life, he would be by your side always.

“Logan,” you gasped and he groaned against your neck as he continued to nip and suck at the skin there. He loved to mark you as his and the thought made your toes curl.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Tell me you’re mine.”

His tongue licked up the column of your throat and you panted, “I’m yours, Lo. Only yours.”

“Marry me,” he murmured against your skin.

‘What?” You breathed out as you placed your hands on either side of your face and pulled him back enough to meet his hazel gaze. His pupils were blown with a combination of love and lust which caused heat to fill your entire body.

“Marry me,” he repeated, then pressed his lips to yours again.

“Yes,” you gasped into his mouth. His fingers gripped your waist tighter as they slipped under your shirt and met your heated skin.

“Let me make you mine forever,” he growled and you whimpered and nodded as you tugged at his t-shirt.

He helped you pull it off him and you let out a soft groan as your hand explored his broad chest, then down his muscled torso as you followed the trail of hair that led to the vee partially hidden beneath his jeans. Your mouth watered as your hand reached his belt, and you saw the evidence of his desire for you straining against his pants.

He snatched your hand right as you were about to reach his hardened length and you whined in frustration.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out and he smirked in that cocky way that made you want to either smack him or suck him off.

“No, I’m gonna take my time with you, pretty girl,” he said as he pulled your shirt off, then immediately followed with removing your bra. You whimpered again at the feeling of his skin against yours as he leaned back down and kissed you.

His lips trailed to your breasts and you moaned as he licked and suckled at your sensitive nipples. Your core heated and throbbed as you became slick with desire for him.

You gripped the muscles of his tensed shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

You attempted to grind yourself against his hard cock but he bit down on your neck in reprimand.

“Stop that,” he growled.

You moaned in response and he chuckled darkly. Suddenly he sat up- and you squeaked in surprise at the sudden shift as he stood from the bed. Before you could respond, he yanked you to the edge of the bed and kneeled before you.

“C’mon, be a good girl and I’ll reward you with my cock, I’ll fill you to the brim, give you a baby just like you want. You just have to be a good girl and let me make you come on my tongue, can you do that princess- hm?”

You moaned at his words, nodding vigorously as he slid off your jeans and spread your legs before him.

“Use your words,” he taunted as he rested your legs on his broad shoulders.

His nose ran up, up, up the inside of your thigh until it reached your panties. He groaned deeply as he took in a deep breath- turned near feral at the scent of your arousal.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good, please- just please, Lo,” you babbled.

Another deep noise from the back of his throat came from the sounds of your sweet begging as he used his teeth to pull your panties off.

You gasped as his warm wet tongue licked up your gushing pussy, all the way from your hole to your throbbing clit.

“You this wet just for me, princess?” He said, the words muffled against your cunt. He began flicking his tongue over the most sensitive part of you and you keened.

Your back arched and you plunged your fingers into his hair, your fingers tangled in and gripped the brown and silver strands.

“Yes, for you, only for you, always for you,” rambled.

The squelching sounds of your cunt as he pressed two fingers inside mixed with your heavy pants and his groans to create the most erotic symphony you’d ever heard.

Your whines reached a fever pitch as his fingers curdled and pressed against the spongy spot inside you that made you forget anything but his name as his tongue continued to flick and swirl around your clit.

“Logan!” you moaned.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he growled.

Heat filled you as electricity prickled up your spine. You writhed on the bed and pressed your cunt closer to his mouth.

One of his large hands smacked your hip lightly in reprimand. He then laid his arm down across your waist to hold you still.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl, or do I need to stop,” he teased as he looked up at you and you moaned.

You slick coated his lips and beard, his hair was disheveled from your hands, and his gorgeous eyes were blown with desire.

“No, I’ll be good, promise,” you panted.

He smiled at you, the kind of smile a predator gives their prey before they pounce, and licked you once again.

You were completely at his mercy, pinned to the bed, his fingers inside you and his mouth on your cunt.

You dug your heels into the muscles of his back in an attempt to urge him on.

The tension inside you built and built as his tongue continued its ministrations.

“M’gonna come, Lo,” you whined.

“Good girl, come for me,” he replied then sucked on your clit.

The pleasure was so intense as his thick fingers continued to hit that spot inside you that lightning ran up your spine and you came with a moan of his name.

He continued to lick until you yanked on his hair in an attempt to pull his head away as his arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed and wiggling away wasn’t an option.

He chuckled darkly as he pressed a final kiss to your bundle of pleasure then looked up at you.

“Did I do good? You gonna reward me with your cock, daddy?” you asked.

There was a heartbeat before he replied, where you worried you went too far as he looked at you in surprise.

But then came his response, “Fuck. Yes, sweetheart, you’re perfect. Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, gonna fill you up real good.”

You whimpered in desire as he stood. You sat up and immediately began to yank at his belt.

He smirked as he looked down on you- watched you in your desperation to reach his thick cock.

Your mouth watered as you won your fight with his belt and zipper and yanked the jeans down enough to get a glimpse of his gloriously hard dick.

Logan finally took pity on you and helped you to remove his pants altogether, which left him wonderfully bare before you.

Good god, he was sexy- his rippling muscles glistened with sweat and you wanted to lick every inch of his skin.

He lifted your face with a hand on your chin so you would meet his eyes once more.

At the heat in his gaze you felt yourself gush even more.

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip and you obediently opened your mouth. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you moaned softly as you sucked on it.

“Shit, you’re killing me, pretty girl. Lay back, I need to be inside you,” he growled.

You let him pull his thumb out of your mouth and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Can I taste you first?” you asked sweetly.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he gripped your chin tighter.

“Course you can, my good girl gets whatever she wants,” he said then led your face closer to his cock.

You wanted to live in this moment forever, your head fuzzy with ecstasy only he could provide and empty of anything but him as you were eager to please him. You wanted to be his - in every possible way.

You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and pressed a kiss to the tip as you looked up at him. His breaths stuttered and power rushed to your head. You had this big strong man literally in the palm of your hand as you gave him pleasure that nearly brought him to his knees as your tongue peeked out and you licked the sensitive underside of his tip.

He groaned your name and that prompted you on as you opened your mouth and began to take in some of his length and suckled gently.

You moaned at the salty taste of him in your mouth, and took him in deeper as your hand worked in tandem.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured.

You rubbed your thighs together in an desperate but fruitless attempt to generate friction as your clit throbbed again with need. There was nothing as delicious as the grunts and groans Logan made as you took him deeper into your mouth.

His hand slipped from the side of your face to cradle the back of your head and you moaned around his length as he led you to take him deeper into your throat. You took deep breaths through your nose as you swallowed him, taking him in far enough that you no longer needed to use your hand and instead used your hand to gently cup his balls.

“That’s it, doing so good f’me,” Logan groaned.

The musky scent of him filled your nostrils as your nose brushed against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. His other hand began to flick and pinch at your nipple and you moaned around his length.

His size was substantial, but you were used to it at this point and your head emptied, only Logan present in your mind, as you let him guide your mouth up and down on his cock as you sucked him deeper.

It was everything you wanted and more, until he pulled you off him. A string of saliva connected from your bottom lip to his tip as you gasped for air and looked up at him.

He wiped away the spit as he murmured out, “fuckin’ perfect.”

You whimpered as he surged forward and kissed you, near feral with desire.

“Logan,” you gasped as he manhandled you further back onto the bed and laid himself on top of you.

He continued to kiss you, his lips moved against yours and you surged closer- your chin bumped his as you kissed him urgently. His tongue explored your mouth and electricity filled you. Your body was filled with desperation as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

“Need you inside me, please daddy, need your huge cock inside me, need you to fill me up,” you pleaded as he began to kiss and suck on your neck. You knew there would be bruises there tomorrow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care - it was only more evidence that you belonged to him.

He chuckled darkly and said, “You sound so pretty when you beg, princess. Don’t worry, daddy’s got you.” He reached down and lined his cock up to your desperate hole and you whined in relief.

Slowly, so slowly, Logan pressed himself inside you. Inch by inch he sunk his cock deep inside your cunt and the feeling was unlike any other.

He caged you in with his large arms on either side of your head and you pulled his face down for another desperate kiss.

Once he was seated fully inside you, it was as if all the franticness of the moment dissipated and you both felt the need to savor the moment, to extend it for as long as possible, to live in this experience of perfection for eternity.

There were times that sex with Logan was rough and animalistic, but you both knew that this wouldn’t be one of those times. This was making love - this was a reunion, a reconciliation, a healing of hurts, a fusion of souls.

You looked deep into his eyes and found home.

You locked your ankles around his waist to keep him close, the desire to be as close to him as possible all consuming. His deep breaths pressed his chest against yours and there was nothing in the world but you and him.

One of his hands stroked your arm as you reached up and placed your hand on the side of his face. The other rested against his shoulder as you gripped the muscles you found there.

You caressed his cheek and ran your fingers in his beard.

“I love you,” you whispered.

His eyes became bright with emotion, he had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen- dark green with rings of brown that held unconditional love for you.

He murmured your name and it sounded like a prayer of devotion as it fell from his plush lips. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

He pulled back enough to press his forehead against yours.

“I love you more than anything,” he replied.

You felt perfectly incandescently happy, so wonderfully full of him, and despite both of your desires for this moment to never end, you also needed him to move inside you.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out.

He knew exactly what you meant and he braced his forearms on either side of your head and pulled his hips back. Logan pulled back enough that only the tip of his cock remained inside you, before he sunk back in slowly.

Your breaths mingled with his and it felt as if the two of you were on an island of your own- as if you were the only two people in the world.

There was a feeling of connectedness, as if the puzzle pieces had all finally fallen into place, as your heartbeat sped and began to beat in time with his.

“You feel so good, so big,” you breathed out as he continued his slow steady pace. Again, and again, and again he pushed himself inside you.

He moaned and kissed you again, this time messy and more urgent.

The string of fate that connected the two of you pulled taunt, became stronger as a result of your union, as you declared to one another your infinite commitment and love.

You clenched down as he increased his pace.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, so fuckin’ tight,” he said, his lips moved against yours as he imprinted the praise into your mouth.

There was a delicious feeling of fullness as you felt stretched and stuffed to the brim with his cock, as your heart threatened to burst at the care he showed you. Your hands ran across his arms and shoulders, around and down to his back where your nails dug into the sweat slicked muscles you found there.

He grunted and again increased his pace. Your thighs tightened around his waist and you held onto him more securely as he pistoned his cock inside you.

There was no better feeling than when he was inside you. His cock repeatedly hit that spot deep within that made you see stars and you felt that familiar burning inside you begin to grow.

There was no possible way to be closer to him. His face was buried in your throat, his chest pressed against yours and every thrust brushed your sensitive nipples against the hair there, your puffy clit felt shockwaves of every thrust as his groin grinded against it, the slick of your arousal coated you both- there was no possible way to be closer to him, and yet somehow you needed more.

“Daddy, please,” you gasped.

“Mhm, is this what my pretty girl needs?”

He shoved a hand between your bodies and began to press tight circles against your throbbing clit.

“Yes!” You let out a high pitched whine as you threw your head back let out a low groan as you clenched down on his thick cock.

The squelching sounds of your joining bodies should’ve made you embarrassed, but white hot pleasure eroded all your senses.

“C’mon pretty baby, come for daddy and then I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you full of me, make sure everyone knows you’re mine with my ring on your finger and my baby in your stomach. S’that what you want? Huh? You want everyone to know you’re mine?” he growled in your ear.

“God, y-yes, Logan- fuck,” you stuttered out.

He continued to fuck into you with those long harsh thrusts, the pace quick and intense as his finger drew tight circles on your overstimulated clit. It balanced you on the line of pleasure and pain, but his words pushed you over the edge.

You gasped loudly, “M’gonna come!”

He grabbed your face and said, “Look at me.”

White hot pleasure exploded through you. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared deep into his intense gaze as you came on his cock.

He groaned along with you as you clenched down on him.

“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he said and kissed you sloppily.

You keened at the praise, your head fuzzy with ecstacy. Your nails again dug into his back as he continued to pump himself inside you as he chased his own release.

His breaths came harder as his sweat slicked skin slid against yours. His hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise as his pace somehow increased.

There was nothing you could do but take it. This-this was bliss, this was perfection.

“Want you to fill me up, want you to come in me, please Lo,” you whined.

He groaned and with one more deep thrust he pushed himself as far inside you as possible and came. He filled you up, with stuttered breaths and hips, he came until he had nothing else to give.

You pulled your head back from his neck, where you had bit down- hard, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

You could’ve sworn that the thread of fate, the connection between the two of you glowed in the aftermath.

With a grunt, he flipped over onto his back as he held you tight, and kept you against him and pulled you on top of him as he kept his cock inside you.

You rested your head against his chest.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” you asked.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as his large hand ran up and down your back.

“Of course, princess. Anything you want.”

And so you did. After all, time was a minuscule thing when the entirety of a new future together stretched before you.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n

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oddinary4bts · 6 months ago

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Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass.

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs.

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.”

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles.

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed.

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.”

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you.

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him.

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around. “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze.

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night.

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back.

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten.

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you.

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again.

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung.

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top.

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him.

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips.

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him.

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex.

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural.

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely.

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend.

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours.

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words.

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper.

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment.

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further.

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you.

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body.

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him.

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently.

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident.

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly.

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?”

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod.

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

Prev | Chapter 3.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

#chasing cars ch 3 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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whirlpool-blogs · 3 months ago

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whirlpool's personal MOTA fic recs!

I've actually been dying to put this together for a while now...today is as good an excuse as any! I might not know everyone's tumblrs vs ao3 names so I will NOT be offended if you tell me to correct something!! <3

the big list = going alphabetical order in my folder because YES I do download my favorites, it's like having your own little bookshelf!!

non-clegan fics:

nine mothers' sons by @reallylilyreally (truly beautiful, breathtaking, and **THE** John Brady bible for the fandom so make sure you pray to it every night)

at your heels by @reallylilyreally (this one is Ev Blakely, another really beautiful story that helps you understand just why Crosby's memoir speaks of Blakely with such love and affection)

clegan (or gale-centric, or john-centric) fics:

A Direct Solution by @sweaterkittensahoy (Gale & Marge proposition Bucky...so cute and so hot)

ain't it easy? by @stereobone (dom/sub with john as the dom but ohhh man it's so much more than just that!!!!! this fic is so full of FEELS. and it's also HOTTTT. and also the FEELSSSSS.)

all the rest of what I want with you by @london-cowboy (the level of care that went into writing this fic is insane and impeccable. down to its own internal timeline, little egan kiddos, and the ANGST. but it's all worth it, I promise!!)

back home where you're from, that's the measure of a man by wolfhalls (nice little oneshot of the bucks, I love the back-and-forth of their dialogue in this one, it really does feel like two people who know each other well)

bittersweet between my teeth by @blixabargelds (post-war adjustment...love when the two majors are a little messy and a little sad and also john calls gale the prettiest thing he ever saw so there's that <3)

bluebirds singing a song by ourdarkspirits (Marge jumps Bucky's bones. Then Gale joins. Super fun, super hot!)

Close and Yet Closer by Anonymous (LITERALLY THE MOST!!!!!! FIC OF ALL TIME!!!!!!! Gale is a little bit mean and John is a lot bit sweaty. Like all the time. it's amazing and you should read it and it WILL change your life.)

Corpse Song by birdwif (oof. john is miserable in the stalag he's scratching at the door he's gnawing his own leg off.)

deep breath baby by @defnotanarc (um FISTING. yeah. intense and delicious. side note sometimes the world isn't fair and people who are really talented and amazing at drawing are also really good WRITERS too LIKE WTF!!)

DOG DINNER by @wompire (super interesting writing style, extremely poetic and striking. hits you right in the gut.)

everything and the kitchen sink by @swifty-fox (YEAH THIS ONE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE TOO. modern au where gale is a professional dom and john is a journalist who hornily consents to both (1) fucking around, and (2) finding out. in top ten fics of the decade in general tbh)

Freed From Desire by @feyd-meowtha (yoooooo such a fun and free and sexy fic!!! such a great writing style and such a cool remix of all the characters we know and love!)

He wears his love around his neck by kasugayamaisforlovers (Gale character study, he tries to run his little gay thoughts away which is always so fun to see)

hold me like a knife by storm_warning (tw: self-harm, this REALLY gets into John's self-destructive stalag spiral and it's super visceral and wet and heart-wrenching and written with such, such care and precision)

Hound Within the Heart by Anonymous (fairy-tale esque, gets super crazy and pushes the limits of reality but in the best ways possible)

I Don't Wanna Be Alone Tonight by @johnslittlespoon (cuddling for warmth <3 and then a little more <3 <3 so sweet and intimate!!)

I Like A Bad Boy by @nicijones (modern college AU and bucky is a fratty fuckboy type & in this fic he DOES punch a guy for Gale and it's all very hot and sweet and a delight to read)

i wish you wouldn't tell me (about your hawaiian party) by @whitetrashjj (when the fuckbuddies thing gets messyyyyyy because gale catches feelingsssssss, so delicious and meaty!!)

if that isn’t love, it’ll have to do by @irregularcollapse (ALWAYS such incredible character reads from this author, never misses. also facefucking. also FACEFUCKING <3)

i'll be seeing you by @puffanities (a quick 1.6k oneshot but still packed with some really great characterization and powerful language!! 'when the numbers of planes don’t match...')

i'll find you before the dust settles by butidontreallycare (a Westworld AU!! super cool)

in our bedroom after the war by @stereobone (one of those fics that's just like. a pillar of the community, y'know? iconic. classic. eternal.)

Into the Unknown by Melanie_Mikaelson (big win for john whump enjoyers. BIG win. like 20+ chapters of winning)

it ain't for meatball by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky. Curt puts the dog collar on Bucky....and it's HOTTTT arf arf i'm barking just like bucky is in this fic...)

It's Not Love, but It's Fun by @sweaterkittensahoy (Curt/Bucky, 500 words so it's short and sweet just like Curt ahahahaha, ANYWAY still such an interesting little read regardless!)

judgment by the hounds by @puffanities (PG, very visceral and tender apology after the stalag fight scene <3)

level-off maneuvers by wormringers (sweet little oneshot of the Bucks in London)

little fix by ForASecondThereWedWon (Algeria <3 <3 you just kNOW those two gay pilots were sniffing and huffing and licking each other's sweat.....this author GETS it)

love means nothing (in tennis) by @irregularcollapse (fics that make you go WEEEEEEEE!!!! every word, every physical action that these characters take is SO precise and well-written. truly like wrapping a soft bathrobe around yourself and also the bathrobe is incredibly sexy and also they're sucking each other off post-game but PRE-shower. also gale's dad!! also margie!! truly such a well crafted AU)

make you feel alive by @sig-nifier (really sweet little oneshot of gale being a little protective of john. and i am ALWAYS a sucker for the 'call off your dog' trope... and it's done perfectly here!)

meet me at the chapel by @swifty-fox (still in-progress and SUCH a creative, inventive universe!! outlaw john you will always be famous to me!!!!)

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by @swifty-fox (swift can really weave a story like no one else. so many lines that pack a punch. and in the end, they make it <3)

my type by @spaceshipkat (this one is SOOOOO well-written, I always go so crazy for the dialogue!!! such a great push-pull dynamic in this fic)

night terror by @antiquitea (hot! and sweet! and HOT! and angsty!!!!! highlights include: gale gives john a literal countdown deadline to get off)

Obligate Mutualism by bowhuntress (Gale-centric story of trying to get John through the stalag, then returning the England without Bucky, a fic very obviously written with a lot of care and love)

obsessions, and other things by @sig-nifier (the Bucks cope. really great pacing and dialogue, and I always love when fics take the care to delve into john's struggle with alcoholism as well)

of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world (he walks into mine) by @whitetrashjj (really fun parallel universe where Buck owns a bar, just a great read all-around!)

Oh, I do, do I? by @defnotanarc (DIRTY TALK, like the most delicious, incredible dirty talk you can imagine, this fic nails it!!)

One of your Girls by @soliloquy-dawn (9k oneshot and it's great all the way through, Gale is jealousssss of John fucking around, don't worry they resolve it <3, definitely captures that innocence of pre-Bremen MOTA episodes)

peacetime like a liminal space by @spaceshipkat (this one is PHENOMENAL. post-war, John goes to New York City and turns out it doesn't fill the emptiness. luckily Gale shows up. <3)

Putting Words to It by @impalachick (YEAH THIS ONE IS REALLY HOT. John is a snoop and reads Gale's letters to Marge <3)

Reunited by Flowersandthings (PG, cute & funny oneshot of the Bucks being reunited after Gale makes it over from Greenland!)

Reverie by @avonne-writes (REALLY creative, well-crafted story. Gale and John are soulmates and can visit each other's dreams since adolescence. INCREDIBLE journey and arc in this story, the stalag part is just wow. truly such a gift to the fandom!!).

Rugire by Anonymous (umm omegaverse-ish but with deer dynamics. messy. and SO good.)

SHOTGUN. by pornogirl (YEAH this one is awesome, it's not safe it's not sane but oh boy it is consensual)

Song of Songs by @swifty-fox (sweaty sex sweaty sex sweaty sex)

Spin, Sit, Roll-Over by @glumbabie (Gale is a little mean to John and it's VERY sexy of him tbh. 'DOGS DON'T TALK'???? 'YOU CAN EAT'???????? yeah. read this.)

the chimneys hardly ever fall down by @redbelles (another Gale/Marge + John, and it's HOT. it's SEXY it's awesome!!)

the hand of a good man by @stereobone (John rewrites Gale's daddy history <3)

the jacket by @dogmetaphors (REALLY great sense of dialogue and characterization even in 1.6k words, also shamelessly horny and SO yummy)

The Major’s Wife by tryingmyhandatwriting (John/Original Female Character but like. give this one a chance, I'm telling you!! I'm always soooo compelled by sex scenes that like. are actually a little bit unhappy. and this one SERVESSSSS.)

this must be the place by @blixabargelds (BIG win for Gale whumpers. broken bone and LOTS of blood and super well-written)

To be alone with you by Damn_Illusive (THIS ONE IS SO, SO SPECIAL AND CREATIVE!! freaky army experimentation gives gale and john telepathic communication. incredible separation arc while gale is in the stalag. really, really unique story that is such a staple in my mind as one of the the most incredible clegan stories ever. I think about this one A LOT!!!)

To the Moon and Back by @rambleonwaywardson (iconic astronaut AU, written with SUCH care and love, it's so obvious!! and BIG win for john whumpers. who said that -)

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me) by @johnslittlespoon (sooo fun and creative and inventive, Bikeriders-esque!Gale and a sweeter, more innocent John. really well crafted)

trading paper dolls by ForASecondThereWedWon (Alex draws Gale pinup girl style in the stalag.....John swipes it.... super great fic!)

two slow dancers by everywordnotsaid (unrequited love, John for Gale, through their journey. I genuinely, actually sobbed for a long time at the conclusion of this fic. I am always thinking about this fic. I think it really captures something about the experience of watching the show and realizing in that hopeless, lovesick kind of way that there's no way to go back in time and save all of them. I still get teary whenever I think about this story or hear the song. It's one of those fics that's not just good, not just great, but somehow also really fucking IMPORTANT. this story MATTERS. you should absolutely read it and save it and imprint it onto your heart. I know it's imprinted onto mine.)

Un Chant d’Amour by @counting0nit (really intriguing take on the interrogation center time frame!)

unicorns, and other extinct animals by @spaceshipkat (really, really incredible reading experience. something that actually touches other aspects of my life, even now. I see planes overhead and I think about this fic. I see letters on a table and I think about this fic. just. this author GETS IT, you know? just absolutely nails every aspect of this kind of fic: post-war adjustment, the pain, the LOVE. this fic will make you FEEL it. let it happen.)

Up In Our Bedroom by @steeseman (ICONIC. really one of those pillars of the community type fics, y'know? it's funny and it's sweet and it's painful and the hot parts are HOT. clearly written with SO much care, and SO much love, and SO much precision. every single word packs a punch. absolutely one of my top reads of all time, across time, across fandoms)

When the bones are good by @aramblingjay (a really incredible post-war fic, such a beautiful, rich writing style!! isn't afraid to dig at the hard parts - john's relationship with alcohol, their nightmares from the war. stunning visuals -- the author uses setting and place and motion in such a tangible, real way. I can still see the little hideout spot in my mind's eye, even now. one of those fics that's just. such a treasure to the fandom.)

your dreams, whatever they be by @drylite (this one is super new, and it's just SUCH solid writing!)

You're A Dog (I'm Your Man) by @johnslittlespoon (one of those fics that's a pillar of the fandom for SURE!!! definitely a classic)

#mota fic #clegan #john egan #gale cleven #I LOVE U ALL SO MUCH #you're all so talented and creative!!!!!!#post

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

Text

Practice On Me — Part Four — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s Solstice! Reader decides she should probably be honest with Azriel about some stuff. Things don’t quite go to plan.

Oof. Okay. This could be uncomfortable reading for some. There are some hints and depictions of domestic abuse and also of alcoholism, so if that’s something that might trigger you, please, please do not read this. The last thing I want is for my writing to be harmful to anybody. Read with caution. Take care and put yourself first. Lots of love.

Also, please don’t hate me for this 😭we know I’m a hoe for angst and it wouldn’t be one of my fics if there wasn’t some sprinkled in there lmao.

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Depiction of abusive behaviour. Heavy drinking. Some violence.

On a brisk winter morning, when the sun hasn’t yet graced the sky, the last place you wish to be is at the Windhaven crèche, watching over a group of tired, grouchy younglings. Every second thought that passes through your mind is a longing one, lamenting on how desperately you wish to be back in your bed.

But alas, you owe your friend, Vegha, a favour, making you the sole minder of ten restless little girls, all annoyed that their brothers get to join their fathers for training, while they have to stay back and be…girls. A downfall, according to most Illyrian males.

You’re supposed to be watching over them for a couple of hours while Vegha runs an errand. And that time is going very, very slowly.

You’re in the middle of reading a storybook — and, yes, doing all the voices — when the door opens behind you. You feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Vegha is back earlier than planned, but when you swivel on the child-sized chair you’ve perched yourself on, it’s Azriel who looms in the doorway.

And you…your heart does a silly little thing in your chest.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He says. “I can wait.”

Your eyebrows flick up in amusement. “Come take a seat, then. It’s story time.”

His lips twitch, and he goes to reach for one of those infant chairs — which you’re not at all sure can handle all his muscle — but this sparks a flurry of complaints from the girls, who all insist that they want to sit with Azriel the most, and within seconds, he’s cross-legged on the floor with the children somehow managing to settle around him without bickering, and they’re all able to command his attention at once.

Happy mediums, and all that.

Your gaze lingers on him as he does all the right things; leaning his head down so he can appear less…huge, while listening with rapt attention to one of the girl’s chattering; steadying another one as they climb over him to get themselves seated; gently telling them all that they have to be quiet if they want to hear the rest of the story. That, of course, achieves immediate near silence.

And thus begins an entire performance of you continuing the tale, and the girls — and Azriel — responding in all the right places. They howl when they’re supposed to make the sound of a wolf, and roar when it’s a mountain cat, and you don’t miss that Azriel helps the tiniest of the girls to remember which animals make what sounds.

Most males in this gods-forsaken place are an intimidating presence to these children, frightening them into silence whenever they’re around, because girls are supposed to be seen and not heard. But Azriel is always gentle, always kind, and they adore him for it.

It’s a combination of all these things that force you to face a truth that’s been rapidly snowballing inside your mind and heart for the past four days — something has changed. Shifted. Has been shifting and changing for a while.

You laid awake for hours that night in the dormitory, listening to Azriel’s breathing as he slept deeply, happily sated from the pleasure you’d given him. Your mind had been too much of a war zone for you to drift off.

Nine years, you’ve called this male your closest friend. Ever since the very first day you’d met him, when a group of males had pushed you to the floor and kicked mud at you, and he’d jumped in and defended you for no other reason than that he’s good to the bone. Nine years, you’ve been by each other’s sides, and it’s been comfortable and familiar and just…right.

But now — now, you think you may have jeopardised that all by going along with Azriel’s request for help. Help with kissing. Touching. Experiencing.

You’ll always want to help him in any way that you can, of course. But you didn’t quite anticipate the predicament you now find yourself in. That you want all of those things and more, not just under the ruse of building your friend’s confidence. You want to explore more with him, feel more with him. You’ve been able to think about nothing else for days.

And it might make you a total wretch, but you want Kaeda to be a distant memory. The thought of Azriel taking what you’ve shown him, shared with him, and putting his all into somebody else…it sours your stomach. Makes you feel sick.

Makes your heart hurt.

And, well, you’re fucked, really.

It’s a kind of hurt that won’t go away on its own. It isn’t avoidable nor ignorable. And so your only option is to confront it, be honest about it. Whatever the outcome may be.

The story comes to an end, and the girls are calmed and sleepy enough that they look ready to curl up on the floor and doze off. Azriel peels himself away from the cluster of clingy children and stands up, strolling over to you.

“Well that was fun.” He comments quietly, taking the book from your hands. “Who knew I was so adept at doing animal impressions?”

“One of your many talents, I suppose.” You smile, drinking in the sight of him. He looks tired this morning. Tired, but beautiful. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His expression sobers slightly, and he tells you, “We’re leaving this morning. For the training exercise.”

Immediately, your stomach churns. Being away from your friends sets you on edge. Windhaven is a lonely, lonely place to be without the love of Rhys, Cassian and Azriel to warm you. And not even Rhys’s mother is here to make it a little more bearable.

Az immediately recognises the bleakness that passes your face. He steps closer, his hand a gentle brush against yours. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He reminds you yet again.

“I know.” You attempt to force an easy, breezing smile. “What’s the plan for Solstice, anyway?”

Normally, Rhysand’s mother would cook a meal in the cottage. You wouldn’t be able to attend, given that you’re always stuck at home with your father, but by the time he would pass out drunk, you’d sneak out and make it to the cottage just as the games were starting. Some of your happiest memories are of being curled up on one couch with Az, Rhys and his mother on the other, and Cassian stood in front of you, making a terrible attempt at playing charades.

But it’ll be different this year. With the High Lord keeping a tight leash on his pregnant mate in Velaris, there will be no meal, no charades. You, Azriel and Cassian would most certainly not be welcome at their intimate family celebration.

“Rhys will spend the day in Velaris.” Az tells you. “Cass and I will be getting drunk. There’s a celebration being held at the dormitories in the evening, so I suppose we’ll all end up there.”

You dip your chin. “I’ll come and find you there, then.”

His responding smile is a gentle one; one that says he sees right through you, right through to the panic that’s eating away at you, and he understands.

There’s no way he sees everything that you’re feeling, though. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

Your body goes slightly rigid as he dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hand squeezes yours, and then he’s pulling away. “See you on Solstice.”

He bids a quiet goodbye to the dozing girls. It’s as he’s heading for the door that you find yourself stepping after him. “…Az?”

He turns, hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“There’s…something I need to talk to you about, when you get back. Something I need to tell you.”

Okay. Shit. You’re really doing this.

Azriel’s eyes rake over you, and then he smiles. “We’ll talk on Solstice.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your head’s not all there today, as you stare out of the window of your father’s forge. Azriel and the others have been gone almost a week, and you’ve spent every one of those days thinking about how you’re going to tell him…whatever it is you’re going to tell him.

You’re not even certain, yourself.

Just that…that things are different. That you know, to begin with, that this was about him and Kaeda — but it’s shifted in your brain at an alarming rate, and now that you’ve shared something so…so meaningful, with him, you’re not sure you can go on acting as though it was all just a favour.

Yeah. That should do it.

And it’s a huge fucking risk, of course. There’s every chance he won’t return the sentiment, and then a giant wedge of unresolved feelings will exist between you.

But you need to — perhaps selfishly — confront this before things between him and Kaeda progress. In case there’s a slight chance that it’ll alter the path it’s heading down.

And you haven’t thought any further than that.

The snow has started again, and you watch the flurries sweep past the window and join the thick layer on the ground. You’ve become so accustomed to the noise of the forge that you hardly notice it anymore — not the constant clanking, nor the heat that the fires swathe the shop in. You used to beg your father to teach you his craft, to allow you to get stuck in and get your hands dirty, but he’s always stubbornly maintained that it’s a male’s job, and that he needs you for the bookkeeping. You’re surprised he trusts you with that.

You breathe a soft sigh, your thoughts once again flitting back to Az. To what he might be doing, thinking, feeling. Whether he misses you as much as you miss him.

But before those thoughts can take a hold of you and sink you deeper into your predicament, the door opens, the bell above it ringing and a gust of cold air momentarily biting you.

It’s rare for females to come to the forge. Very rare, indeed. Which is why, for a second or two, you just stare.

That — and because she’s incredibly beautiful.

Her eyes — the colour of emeralds — sweep the workshop, before landing on you, and she smiles. She has the telltale tanned skin of an Illyrian, but instead of the dark hair that’s so typical around here, hers is red — not orange, not auburn, but blood red. You’ve never seen a shade quite like it.

And if that’s not enough to completely bowl you over, your gaze rakes over her clothing, and you stop, stunned.

Females around here wear homespun dresses of simple brown shades. A few, like yourself, favour basic tunics and breeches. Clothing is just a necessity, not something you lend much thought to.

But this female wears Illyrian leathers. Never, in your life, have you seen females wear Illyrian leathers. It’s simply not a done thing.

But she looks resplendent in them.

They cling to supple curves and accentuate a figure that you don’t think you’d ever be able to achieve with any amount of training. And perhaps the most shocking thing of all — and the most enviable — is the presence of brilliant, beautiful wings at her back. Unclipped. Untouched. Unruined.

How your wings might have one day looked, had your father not destroyed them.

You’re not entirely convinced that an angel hasn’t just stepped into your father’s forge. Or perhaps this is the Mother that everyone worships. Part of you wants to worship her, too, and beg her to bestow upon you her blessings—

You snap yourself out of it before you can fall head-over-heels in love with her. She’s just a customer.

A very, very beautiful customer.

“Good day to you.” She says, approaching the counter. Her voice is like pure music.

You incline your head in greeting. “And to you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m interested in having some gifts made for my father and brothers. For Solstice.”

Once again, you’re gawking.

Another thing that’s unheard of; females liking their family members enough to have gifts made for them.

You clear your throat, blinking out of your thoughts. “What…what kind of things were you looking for?”

“Personalised daggers.” She answers, and then she grins in a way that makes you want to tell her your life story, and leans closer. “A male can never have too many daggers, right?”

You breathe a laugh. It doesn’t sound natural. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll be needing three. One for my father, and one each for my two brothers. Can that be done in time for Solstice? I can pay extra…”

This female has beauty, leathers, wings, a relationship with her family members, money. She’s magnificent. A few exchanged words, and you’re awed by her.

Who is she? How have you never seen her before?

“It can be done.” You tell her with a flustered smile. “I’ll just need to sit with you and get some details of exactly what you want made, and then my father will get straight to it. I imagine they’ll be ready for collection by Solstice Eve.”

Her eyes light up in a way that reminds you of sunrise. “That’s perfect.”

There’s a second or two where you just…can’t help staring. Her beauty has knocked you speechless.

But once again, you snap yourself out of it and try to retain some semblance of professionalism.

“Can I take your name down?” You say, and clear your throat again. Gods, you hope you’re not blushing. “For the order.”

You grab a piece of parchment and a pen, hoping you’ll remember how the fuck to write.

“It’s Kaeda.” She says, and the pen nearly slips from your hand. “Kaeda Baralas.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Solstice morning sweeps in just as abruptly as the fresh onslaught of snow that once again batters the camp.

It’s going to be a rough one. You can feel it in your bones.

You dread it every year, but this year is made even worse by the constant stream of thoughts that have been plaguing you over the last week. About whether telling Az about your feelings is a good idea. Not just because of what it could do to your friendship, but because…

Because you can’t deny that since seeing Kaeda in the flesh, you’re doubting yourself more than ever.

Of course, you can see why Azriel would want her. And why he’d want to be good and experienced for her. And you…you’ve been facilitating that. You’re the practice dummy. Kaeda is the real thing.

At least the chaos of Solstice keeps you busy.

You wake early, and from the noise and foot traffic outside your bedroom window, you know Az’s unit has safely returned from their training exercise. Your relief is short-lived, replaced by the dread of your father hitting the bottle.

Every year is the same. You spend the day trying to focus on your preparation of the huge meal you’re expected to cook, while your father knocks back drink after drink and gradually gets rowdier. You tell yourself that the more he drinks, the better — he’ll fall asleep eventually, and you’ll be out of here.

But then the front door bursts open.

It’s four of your father’s friends who pile into your cramped home, singing at the tops of their voices and reeking of booze. You’re only just able to stop one of them knocking a pot of potatoes off the counter with a careless, wayward wing. They barely acknowledge you, filing through to the sitting room to greet your father. Their voices get louder, and an ache is building behind your eye.

Day bleeds into late afternoon. You try to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand. Cooking is usually enjoyable for you, but with an unwelcome party happening in the next room, you find yourself getting more and more stressed.

By the time your father bustles his way into the kitchen and begins sniffing around the food, you’re close to losing it.

“Isn’t it ready yet?” Your father rudely demands.

You stare out of the kitchen window, at the dwindling light of approaching evening, clenching your jaw. “It is. I’m waiting for your friends to leave.”

“They’ll be eating with us.”

You whirl on the spot. “We don’t have enough food for that.”

“I told you we’d have guests.”

No, he absolutely hadn’t. This is a power play. He does shit like this all the time. Backs you into corners.

“I bought food for two people.” You snap, unable to stop yourself. “Not six.”

Your father’s nostrils flare. You know that look on his face a little too well — the one where his cheeks redden and his eyes turn cold. It’s always, always made your stomach lurch.

He steps closer, and you press your back against the counter, trying your utmost not to look intimidated.

“You’d better rectify that, hadn’t you?” His tone is deceptively gentle. “Be a good girl and find a way to make the food go around six people. You wouldn’t want to ruin Solstice.”

It’s a veiled threat. One you’d be wise not to ignore.

So you stare at him and he stares at you. And when he eventually nods and leaves the room, you turn and try to work out how to make a meal for two a meal for six.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The mountain of a male beside you jostles your chair so violently that you almost fall out of it.

His hand grabs a roast potato from your plate. He shoves it into his mouth, chews, and grins. “You weren’t going to eat that, were you?”

The entire meal has been like this.

Perhaps it’s your ice-thin temper that has you staring him right in the eye; a thing many Illyrian males consider a great disrespect from females. “Would it matter if I was?”

He swallows and swipes the lone, remaining potato you hadn’t planned to touch. “Not really, no.”

The dinner is usually the only part you enjoy of Solstice. A meal that you spend hours perfecting, of slow-cooked meat and roasted potatoes and a colourful array of different vegetables that are cooked to perfection. It’s the one part of the day where you can just sit and breathe, because even your father doesn’t usually have a bad word to say about the meal you’ve presented.

This one has been pure, unadulterated hell.

To accommodate your unwanted guests, you’ve skimped on your own food, barely affording yourself a couple of mouthfuls. Wine and ale has been spilled across the table, and the conversation around it has only grown more and more uncomfortable — and vile — as the night has worn on. You want nothing more than to get out of here and find your friends, but your father and his cronies show no signs of slowing down.

You sit, staring emptily at the plates, the little remaining morsels of the meal you spent all day cooking. You try to block out the laughter and jeering, the disgusting comments, the blatant disrespect, but it’s all getting to you, riling you up. You’re not sure how long you’ll last without snapping.

Your answer comes when your father looks at you. And he snaps his fucking fingers at the finished plates.

“Clear this up, Y/N.” He says.

You know your father. You know what he can be like, the damage he can do. Your ruined back is evidence enough. And you know the wisest and safest thing is for you to comply and rant about him to your friends later.

But you’re far beyond that point.

You meet his gaze, and your jaw ticks as you shoot back, “Why don’t you clear it up yourself?”

You regret it the second the room falls deathly silent. All the noise is gone in an instant. Every face is looking your way.

But it’s your father’s face you’re concerned with. The expression that tells you you’ve made a grave, grave mistake.

“What was that?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

You look away. Wish you could cram the words back down your throat. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” The male beside you sneers. “You speak to your father like that, girl? If you were my child, I’d string you up by the remains of those wings you never should have been born with.”

“I’d do a lot worse than that.” Another one remarks, a sickening laugh in his voice.

Throughout it all, your father is staring at you. Saying nothing.

“Did it hurt, anyway? Having them ripped off like that? I bet it did. I hope it did.”

Your final straw is when the pig at your side has the audacity to reach around and touch your back. You tense immediately, and you’re shooting up from your chair, knocking it over as you do.

“Don’t ever lay a finger on me again.” You will your voice to be stronger, firmer, but it won’t comply. You shake as you gather the plates up in your hand. “I’m cleaning this up.”

That’s met with a chorus of laughter, a pelting of comments. You tell yourself to block it out, block it the fuck out, balance as much as you reasonably can in your hands and book it into the kitchen. You dump the plates onto the counter and grip onto the sink basin, trying to draw in deep, slow breaths.

But then there are footsteps behind you. And the kitchen door closes. And you know that’s not good.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes shutter. You release one of those useless breaths before you dare to turn and face your father.

And when you do, his face is…soft. Eyes filled with concern.

But you’re not stupid enough to buy it.

You’re taut as a bowstring as he approaches you, stopping inches away. He drinks in the sight of you, tilting his head. You wait for him to tell you that you look just like your mother — a fact that only contributes to his vitriol. As if it’s your fault that she abandoned him, abandoned both of you.

He thinks it is.

His hand touches your cheek, his thumb sweeping the skin there. You swallow, hoping he can’t feel the way you tremble beneath him.

“What’s gotten into you, my girl?” He asks quietly. “What did I say about not ruining Solstice?”

You swallow. Lower your gaze. “I thought it would just be the two of us.”

“Do I not have the right to invite my friends into my home?”

“I’m just saying that a little bit of warning would have been appreciated. I didn’t spend hours cooking a meal just for your friends to come along and ruin it.”

“Your attitude has become insufferable. Perhaps it’s those three males you’ve been spreading your legs for. Giving you too much of an ego boost.”

You almost want to laugh in his face — laugh at his cluelessness. But your anger wins. Maybe you’re more like him than you ever thought.

“Or perhaps, father,” you snap, “it’s an accumulation of anger and desperation after twenty years of living with a repulsive, sanctimonious—”

He strikes you so hard that for a moment, you’re simply stunned as to why you’re suddenly on the floor. But the thwack of his hit rings in your ears, echoes through the kitchen.

And then the metallic taste of blood is coating the inside of your mouth. It’s streaming down your chin, and you’re not even sure where it’s all coming from, only that it hurts and your eyes are stinging.

Your father stares down at you. And in that moment, you realise that the eeriest thing of all is that he never glares at you. You think you’d prefer that.

He always stares with that emptiness. That icy vacancy. It makes his actions more unpredictable, more dangerous.

He lunges down so suddenly that you flinch, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. Your legs don’t want to comply as he shoves you towards the door.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” He hisses at you, ripping the door open. “Go on. Fuck off, just like your mother did.”

And then he’s shoving you into the snow, a plume of it erupting around you. You hardly notice the cold. You’re too stunned.

Not stunned enough, though, to refrain from biting back at him. Just like a threatened animal would.

“Fuck you.” You sneer, the words contorted by a mouthful of blood that you spit onto the snow. “Fuck you, father.”

The bastard laughs in your face. Just as he’s always laughed in your face. And then he kicks snow at you because he can and steps back into the house.

When the door shuts behind him, you push to your feet. You’re trembling all over. It might be the cold. It might be the shock.

There’s only one person you want to see right now. So you wrap your arms around yourself and head towards the dormitories.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Halfway through trudging across the camp, your shoes sodden with snow, your lip still bleeding, the emotions begin to hit.

You resent them. You resent feeling anything at all towards the male who is your only blood relative in this hollow, hollow place. The one who took your wings. The one who has tried to keep a firm grasp on the control he has over your life.

But you do feel things. Hurt and rage and humiliation and — bizarrely — betrayal. As if some small slither of hope had followed you from childhood into adulthood — that your father would one day miraculously awaken as a different person. A family member worth holding onto.

He never would.

No, your true family has always been the small, loving group that crams themselves into a cottage across the camp; a place of warmth and welcoming.

Rhysand and Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand’s mother, too. They are your family. They have always cared, since the moment you met them.

It’s for that reason that you persevere with your walk, even though you’re frozen to the bone. You think you might be crying. You’re not too sure anymore. Your friends will make it better. They always make it better.

The dormitories glow in the distance; a welcome sight, for once. You kick through the snow with desperation, and you’re definitely crying, definitely shaking all over, but the sounds of the celebrations coming from inside are a relief. Playful jeering and someone strumming a lute and off-kilter singing.

You push your way through the door. Inside is as crowded as you expect it to be, but you don’t even care. Anywhere is better than at home.

Your eyes — not really taking in much at all — scan the corridors, the common area, looking for any of your three closest friends. You see none of them, but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find Vegha there. Her eyes widen immediately at the state of you. You dread to think how bad you look.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” She blurts. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Fell over.” You know how stupid it sounds. “I…I need to find Azriel. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I think he skulked off to his room a little while ago. Everyone knows he hates big parties like this—”

Perfect. You’ll hole up in his room together and block the rest of the world out. You’re already turning and pushing through people. You’ll apologise to Vegha for your rudeness later. Right now, you just need Azriel’s comfort, his love. The conversation you planned to have with him tonight is now a distant memory, an issue to confront later. You just…just want him. He always makes everything better.

You don’t notice the drink that gets spilled on you, or the disgruntled groups of people you have to shove through. None of that matters. Azriel is your family. He matters.

Finally, you make it to his room. The soft glow of faelights shine beneath the door — an indication he’s inside. You almost sob with relief as you grab the handle and burst in.

Two faces immediately look round at you.

Azriel’s.

Kaeda’s.

Kaeda lies on top of him, hands either side of his head. Her lips are swollen and inches from his. Azriel is palming at her waist, holding her against him. They’re both fully clothed, but…but you get the sense they wouldn’t have been for much longer, had it not been for your interruption.

Azriel drinks in the sight of you, his chest heaving. He blinks. You…you’re rooted to the spot.

And you fucking wince as Kaeda sits up slightly. Az’s hands fall back to his sides.

The beautiful female eyes you, tilting her head. And you want to get out of there, to fucking run, but you can’t do anything but stand and blink as something shatters inside of you.

“The shop hand from the forge.” Kaeda states in surprise, as if it’s ludicrous to consider that you might sometimes venture outside of your father’s workshop. “What happened to your face?”

Azriel is finally springing into action, then, sitting up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda. “Y/N…”

You cannot bear the gentleness of his voice. It may just finish you off.

All of this might. Staying here a second longer might.

So you, for some reason, shake your head and back slowly out of the room. Azriel lurches up, but you’re grabbing hold of the door handle firmly.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Your voice is all wrong and fractured. You quickly shut the door before it can morph into a sob.

You think Azriel might call after you, but it’s probably wishful thinking. You don’t know. Don’t know anything. Don’t know what to do next.

So you simply walk away.

You suppose you’ve taught Azriel everything he needs to know.

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Note

Hiya! I love your writing so much it's amazing. Can I request Joel and Reader! smut? Maybe angry s3x? I loveeeee grumpy Joel. They would def be primal and rough and fast about it too...oof. I'm not too good at coming up with plotlines haha

Anyways thank you so much if you do! :3

oof, this was fun to write

gif by @tightjeansjavi

Menace

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

When Joel refuses to join her at the bar, she has a good time by herself. But he just can't stay away.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, rough sex, little angst, little fluff, mostly just smut tho

...........................

If Joel were here right now, she knows he wouldn’t like the looks of things one bit. Not because she’s in any sort of danger, the only real danger at the Tipsy Bison is whatever that cheap grog is that they keep stewing in the back. No, what Joel wouldn’t like to see is her having a good time, for once, without him. And that’s exactly what she’s doing.

It’s a Friday night in Jackson, a town in which she can actually enjoy the luxury of having a real Friday night after a long week of patrol shifts. Joel, in all his brooding glory, had rejected her invitation to go out to the bar, telling her that all he wanted was some “fucking peace and quiet.” She hadn’t let that get her down, though, scoffing at his petulant grumbles and heading out by herself. And she was having a damn good time too.

“Goddamn, girl. Giving me a run for my money.” She grins at the man, idly spinning her cue stick in her hands as she walks along the pool table.

“You better shape up then, or you’re gonna owe me another drink.” The man throws his head back in a laugh at that, his eyes crinkling up as he looks at her. His name is Teddy, one of the younger men around town who also works patrol shifts. She had a shift with him earlier in the week, and he had been warm and welcoming to her, still pretty new to the swing of things. It doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s flirting with her, and she’s happy to play along for now, knowing she’s got her grump of a man waiting for her back home, probably snoring in bed already. Love is strange, but she is Joel’s and he is most certainly hers, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. But for now, a little banter with this sweet boy isn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Watch and learn, Teddy. I’m gonna show you how it’s done.” The man whistles low as she bends over the table, lining her cue stick up with her target. So what if she’s hamming it up a bit? Shimmying her hips and flicking her hair out of her face. A small crowd has gathered around the table to watch her smoke this kid, and she’s enjoying the feeling of letting loose after being tensed up for so long.

She moves cool and slick around the table, driving home her last three balls before setting her sights on the eightball. It looks like a tough shot, and she revels in her confidence that she can sink it, feeling Teddy’s eyes sweeping down the slope of her back as she arches over the table. There’s a hushed swell of laughter and a few whoops when she hits the eightball clean into a pocket, and she turns and shoots Teddy a crooked smile.

“Pay up, boy. I want the good stuff this time, top shelf only.” Teddy barks out another laugh, but it quickly dissolves as his eyes flit just behind her. She feels him before she sees him, the solid warmth of him pressing up behind her and a broad palm splaying over her shoulder. He’s certainly not snoring in bed.

“You’ll have to take a rain check, son. She’s needed at home right now.” The low rasp of his voice tells her all she needs to know. He saw her, and the little moves she was making, and now, Joel Miller is pissed.

She can see the bob of Teddy’s throat as he swallows, nodding jerkily. She winces at the crack in his voice when he says that’s alright, he’ll see her around. Joel may be a grump, but he’s also a scary grump when he wants to be, like right about now as he’s steering her out of the bar with his hand still on her shoulder.

“Putting on a little show for all them townsfolk, darlin?” His southern drawl always gets headier, slower, when he’s angry. It’s never a good sign when she starts having a hard time pulling his honey-thick words apart. But she refuses to let him intimidate her, huffing as they trudge through town toward their house.

“It was just a little fun, Joel. I know you’re not too familiar with the concept, but—”

“Oh, you’re wrong about that, darlin. Me and you? We’re about to have a whole lot of fun.” So it’s like that. She can’t help the excited shiver that runs up her spine at his words, heat already starting to lick at her core. She’s known him long enough to know that when Joel is pissed at her, it can only go one of two ways. Sometimes, he’ll shut down and sulk off, keeping his distance until he’s gotten some sense back in his body to come talk to her. But other times, his anger flirts over into a jagged lust, only simmering to cool when they’re both too sore to bitch at each other anymore, a heaving tangle of sweat and pleasure. And judging by the hard flush she can see peeking out of his shirt collar as they get home, she’d put money on this being one of those other times.

The instant the front door closes behind her, he’s pressing her back up against it, swallowing her gasp as he licks into her mouth. She presses her palms into his chest to try to get some space, but he’s immovable, dragging his lips down her neck and nudging the collar of her shirt out of the way to suck searing bruises into her collarbone. She tugs harshly at his hair to get him to finally take a breath.

“Hey, hey. What about Ellie?”

“At Dina’s.” And with those few gruff, syllables, he’s back on her, shoving his jean-clad thigh between her legs and pressing up hard into her core, her hips immediately grinding down to seek any kind of relief to the quick-building heat blooming up her spine.

“You’re something else, you know that? Saw you acting so tough, so cool down at the bar.” His words are a smear across her chest as he works the buttons of her shirt open, dipping down to mouth at the fabric of her bra the moment he gets access, her back arching up into his mouth as she lets out a long sigh of his name. He chuckles into her skin.

“None of them know how sweet you get like this, though. S’just for me, right?” She chokes on a breath as his hand wrenches down the front of her jeans, rough fingers swiping through the slick pooling between her folds. He drags his nose up her cheek as he works one, then two of his fingers into her, her knees buckling when he crooks his digits just so, her cunt clenching hard.

“Asked you a question, darlin. Who’s all this for, huh?” His fingers are pumping into her relentlessly, the squelching noise of each thrust embarrassingly lewd and loud. It’s all she can do to give him a response.

“You– it’s all for you– fuck– only for you– it’s– just you– please–” He laughs, the smug bastard, smearing a kiss to her temple as he continues to fuck her with his fingers, the heel of his palm digging just right into her clit.

“That’s right, baby. S’all for me. Think you can give me one just like this? C’mon, know you can. Be good for me. Just for me.” He doesn’t have to tell her twice, her cunt already spasming around his fingers as she lets out a broken cry, pleasure crashing over her in ebbs and flows as he fucks her through it. He finally relents when her preening whines turn into whimpers, pulling his hand away and sucking his fingers into his mouth as she slumps back against the door.

She’s a complete mess, her shirt hanging loosely off her arms, the cups of her bra shoved down to let her tits spill out, while Joel stands before her still fully clothed, a contrast that sets heat simmering in her belly all over again. She closes the gap between them this time, pressing in for a demanding kiss as she shrugs her shirt off the rest of the way, fumbling behind her back to snap the clasp of her bra open as well. Joel’s hands are on her right away, palming the swell of her tits before squeezing just harshly enough to make her gasp into his mouth, her fingers stuttering where she was working on the buttons of his shirt. He seems to get the hint, swatting her hands away from his half undone shirt and tugging it the rest of the way off by the collar.

“I need you right now, darlin. Got me fucking aching here.”

They’re a stumbling swirl of limbs as they fumble upstairs to their bedroom, banging into walls and slamming doors along the way.

He gets her exactly where he wants her, on all fours at the end of the bed, and she yelps as he wrenches her jeans and panties down her thighs. She cranes her neck over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of him, his jeans rucked down just enough for him to free his cock as he fists himself over her, his other palm kneading the swell of her ass. He nudges his swollen tip through her folds and she shivers at the sensation, trying to press her hips back into him to get more of anything. Joel doesn’t seem to like that though, laying a harsh smack to her ass that makes her nearly jump out of his hold.

“Mind your manners, darlin. Don’t get greedy on me.” She huffs, trying to look back over her shoulder at him but he presses a rough palm between her shoulder blades, forcing her back to bow until she’s collapsing onto her arms, cheek smushed into the sheets.

He presses into her with one hard thrust, his hips grinding into the plush of her ass as she lets out a broken cry.

“Fuck– always so tight for me– fucking made for me, huh?” She can’t respond to his breathless words, not with the brutal pace he’s setting, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room as he pumps into her, his leaking tip hitting a spot inside her that has her mouth opening in a silent scream. Suddenly, he’s snaking his palm up her chest, pressing between her tits to pull her up until her back is snug against the warmth of his chest, his lips pressed hotly to the shell of her ear.

“Tell me you’re mine, darlin. Wanna hear you say it.” She lets out a low moan as his hand dips down, the rough pads of his fingers dragging across her clit. Meanwhile, he’s skirted his other palm up to her throat, curling his fingers lightly, a faint but firm pressure making her mind go hazy.

“I’m yours– I’m all yours– please, I’m so close–” His thrusts are getting shorter, more of a deep grind up inside her that has her clenching hard around him.

“Want you to say my name when you come, darlin. Make a fucking mess– c’mon, that’s it.” It becomes too much all at once, and she finds herself letting out a panting sigh of his name as pleasure finally snaps inside her. His hands slacken where they had been holding her up and she collapses forward, resting her teary face in her arms as he fucks her through her high.

“So perfect for me, darlin– shit– just a little more, huh? Fucking close.” His hips start to stutter against hers, and she does her best to press back against him.

“Please, Joel– want it so bad– c’mon, baby, give it to me.” He lets out a low curse, pulling out and fisting himself once, twice, before he’s painting her ass with his spend. He lets out a hard breath before flopping down next to her on the bed, dragging a hand down his flushed face. She winces as she lets her legs splay out, slinking down onto her stomach. There will be bruises tomorrow, without a doubt. She crooks her face to the side to look at him, still panting, eyes scrunched closed.

“Feel better now?” He cracks one eye open, glancing at her before fully turning on his side to steal a kiss from her lips.

“Fucking menace. Yes, I feel better now.” With that, he flops onto his back again, crossing his arms behind his head. She shimmies over to rest her head on his chest, her chin propped up on his sternum so she can look at him.

“You better get me cleaned up, Miller. Made a damn mess.” He huffs, bringing one hand down and smacking the curve of her ass, making her yelp in surprise. She tries to kiss away the all too smug grin on his face, but it’s still there when she pulls back.

“I will. But first, I gotta know. Where the hell did you learn to play pool like that?” She lets out an exasperated laugh at that.

“Come with me to the bar next Friday night and I’ll tell you.” A low grumble resounds through his chest, but he’s still smiling as he shakes his head at her.

“You’re on, darlin. I should warn you though. I’m gonna whoop your ass.”

“Looking forward to it, Miller.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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yurmomsawh0r · 1 year ago

Text

•°His Perfect Little Wife °• - p2

You and Nanami’s relationship has been a little difficult during your pregnancy and one turn of events has you ready to divorce him. But Nanami would never let you leave. You were his wife and he’d never let you go.

@delightfulmoonbanana @i-killed-a-prostutute @muzanswaifu @ebonydumbslut

Sorry it took super long! I’m pregnant with a toddler and it’s super hard to have energy to write anything, but I’m definitely coming back on here because YALL, I have soooo many ideas in my notes for tumblr and oof I can’t wait to drop them! But I hope you enjoy part 2 it’s different from part 1 because I kinda had to make it a small story but anyways enjoy 😊 💙

Prompt idea by @ebonydumbslut

“ I’m literally fina write a whole plot feel free to just take parts from it but I’m thinking For his perfect wife maybe yandere and Angst like since y/n pregnant she hasn’t been at her best with waking up on time doing things for her husband hasn’t felt like having sex so her husband hires a maid and y/n can tell that she is trying to take her husband away being to Close and saying things like “ofc I will make you food if you were my husband with how hard you work I would make sure you didn’t even have to ask he doesn’t see it but y/n does he’s also been a little distant and hasn’t been able to see her much because when he comes home y/Ns sleep y/n know this and stays up untill he’s home and by the time she gets all pretty for him she walks down stairs to see her husband and the made doing something that looks inappropriate (yk how In the movies someone walks in at the wrong time and it looks wrong) anyways she runs to her room and he goes after her to tell her it’s not what it looks like and y/n is getting ready to go to her moms house or something she tells him that he can have the maid and she’s going to leave and this is we’re the yandere starts he tells her she can’t and what about there baby and whatever else you want he makes y/n feel bad and she stays then he shows her how much he loves her by yk having sex’s loud to the maid hears everything while there having sex he tells her how she knows that she can’t leave because she needs him she’s to much of a dumb slut to do anything without him all she’s good at is being his perfect little wife y/n falls into this brain washing and promises she will never leave and that she’s his and will always be you could also put some fluff in there sorry for how long this is I Basically could have made the book for you😭”

CW - Yandere-ish, Manipulation, mentions of cheating, pregnant reader, penetration, pregnant sex, cursing, pet names, mentions of a divorce

Part 1 here

–

Nanami was frustrated to say the least. Between working extra hard and keeping your need’s satisfied, he definitely had his hands full. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he typed away on his computer. It was going on another late night and he had many things to get done. It always felt like he’d never have another second for himself or for you.

A knock on the door had an oh - so, very tired Nanami shifting in irritation. “What?” Came his groggy, stress filled voice. A subordinate of his walks through the door. A file in his hand. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to drop off my report you requested.”

“Place it in the black tray.”

The man did what he was told, quickly placing it in the tray and making his way out of the office.

Nanami glanced at the clock and seen that is was going on 1 am in the morning, making a sigh leave him. He knew you’d be in bed by now. You both couldn’t seem to catch a break. Nanami thought about the conversation you both had about hiring a housekeeper. You were about 4 months pregnant and you’ve grown quite a lot. It was getting hard for you to keep up your regular routine.

Nanami has even taken it upon himself to be home more to help out, but it was definitely putting him back, which resulted in him having many late nights and causing him to be way more irritated than normal. Anytime you both found a moment to yourselves, you would be to tired to do anything. You slept way more than you normally would these days, which he didn’t mind. It wasn’t your fault you ended up pregnant.

It was decided, he would take it upon himself and hire a housekeeper as soon as possible once he was able to cut back his work load.

~*~

It’s been about 3 weeks since the new maid started working for you both. She had tremendously been a big help around the house keeping things tidy and organized. Although you’ve had more help around the house, you still haven’t been able to see your husband for a while. The times you both did run into each other, he would always seem irritated with you. You knew work has been hard since he’s been catching up, so you decided to suck it up and do the things he normally liked.

“Oh! I see you cooked dinner Martha!” You honestly weren’t surprised. The past week she had been taking over in the kitchen before you even had a chance. “It was no problem. I understand that you’ve been tired lately.”

Although that was true, you usually pushed yourself to cook dinner for your husband but you haven’t been able to because she always did. It kind of bothered you, but you decided to try and be grateful for all the help.

“Well thank you, I can prepare the plates for dinner, as well as Nanami’s lunch for tomorrow. You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh no need ma’am. I already prepared his lunch as well as his plate for dinner.” She spoke. This was another thing that bothered you. She always took it upon herself to do more than she needed. You even seen that she left a note on his lunch one time. It was a small “Have a great day at work.” But you felt as though she crossed a boundary. This was your husband, not hers. Leaving notes wasn’t in her job description.

Before you could say anything else, the front door opened and in walked your husband. You went to greet him as usual. Helping him remove his coat and hanging it up for him. “Hi honey! How was work.”

He only grunted. “It was work.” Was all he said and brushed passed you, not a single glance your way. Not even a small forehead kiss as he usually did. An ache in your heart throbbed through your body.

In the kitchen, you could hear Martha speaking to him. As you went to peak, you seen her placing his plate in front of him and pouring him a glass of wine.

You couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt you to see the small act, but it did. Your own sensitive emotions plus being pregnant didn’t help, the tears started to flow. You turned on your heels and made your way to your shared bedroom skipping dinner that night.

Weeks had passed and still nothing had changed, well except you did. You weren’t yourself. You had completely stop doing your house work and just left it to the maid since, she took it upon herself to do everything. So you just rested in bed most of your days falling asleep when ever he felt like it.

You haven’t seen your husband for most days. By the time he came home you were already in bed passed out.

Martha had also been getting a little too close to your husband for your liking but Nanami didn’t seem to care to stop her advances so you assumed that maybe your were making things up, but you couldn’t help but think about all the little smart remarks she took it upon herself to say.

“Wow, you’re such a hard working man, if you were my husband I’d be sure to reward you everyday.”

“Would you like me to give you a massage sir?”

Maybe she was being nice? Maybe you were reading into it a little too hard. Either way Nanami didn’t seem to mind her forwardness so maybe you shouldn’t either.

Having enough of your pity party, you finally decided that it was time to put an effort in getting your husband’s attention again.

That night you got yourself all clean and dolled up in one of his favorite lingerie pieces and one of his t-shirts. He loved seeing you in his clothing. He always told you it made him feel like the best man in the world seeing his woman comfortable in his attire. It was almost 1 in the morning, the usual time he had gotten home. You had waited all night, despite being so tired, to see him. Lights shown through the curtains and the sound of a motor vehicle pulling into the drive way shook away any traces of sleep you had in you.

This was it! Tonight’s the night you and your husband rekindled.

~*~

Nanami walked through the door tired as ever. He was finally done with playing catch up and attending hour long business meetings for the month. He’s finally be able to catch a break. He felt as though he had be in a trans working and powering through his long streak, and finally he would be able to settle down for a while.

He made his way to the kitchen to look for something to eat. I was a little after 1 so he knew you’d be sleeping.

When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see Martha standing there in nothing but a small tank top and shorts to short for her size.

“Oh! Nanami, I didn’t think you’d be home just yet. Are you hungry?” Nanami only grunted and moved passed her and headed towards the fridge.

“Would you like wine with your meal sir?” The sultry tone of her voice rung in his ears. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before shrugging it off. “No thank you, not tonight.”

He told her with a monotonous tone. He grabbed his plate that was left in the fridge and placed it in the microwave to warm.

“Alright, I’ll just put this back then.” She had a smile on her face as she strut her way towards the wine holder that was just behind where Nanami was standing.

Just inches away from him, she had stumbled, almost dropping the bottle in the process. Nanami kept forward, grasping her in his arms just as he was able to fall, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as if they were lovers about to ignite in a night of passion.

She giggled, pulling him closer. “I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz! It’s a good thing a big strong man like you were here to catch me! You’re just like a knight in shinning armor. And my knight deserves a kiss for saving me.”

As she tried pulling him closer, Nanami started to pull away, but it was too late. A small gasp had them both frozen.

“Oh! My lady! I didn’t think you’d be up.”

There you stood from your stop in the kitchen, watching as your maid and husband were about to share such a passionate kiss. It brought tears to your eyes seeing how good they looked together.

You knew you hadn’t been up to par in taking care of yourself as well as him, but you didn’t think he’d cheat on you for such a small inconvenience.

“Wait! Y/n-“ He called out to you but you just turned and ran to your bedroom to grab everything you needed to leave.

Nanami dropped Martha letting her fall to the floor leaving her in pain as he chased after you.

Once he made it to your shared room, he saw that you were packing a suit case with everything valuable and important to you.

“It’s not what it looked like y/n” he tries to reason with you but you didn’t listen. “I don’t care Nami, it’s not like I haven’t noticed we haven’t been the same in a while. Especially since she got here.”

“What do you mean? I know I’ve been busy, but I’d never do something like that to you. I love you.”

“You don’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t have been all up on her. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done.”

This caused Nanami to freeze. His voice dropped, a menacing tone sounded in his voice. “What do you mean you’re done?”

It sent a chill up your spine but you remained strong. “It means I’m done. I want a divorce. I can’t do this anymore. My own husband doesn’t even want to look at me, let alone act like I exist.”

You finished packing whatever you could and zipped it up, but Nanami was faster than you. He grabbed your luggage and threw it aside, shattering your vanity. “What is your problem! I don’t understand why you are so upset. Go be with your fucking mistress!” You yelled.

“I’m fucking upset because my wife is trying to leave me over a misunderstanding!” He cornered you. His pupils dark and expression angry. It was look you never wanted towards you.

He broke out into a laugh that boomed into the room. “You can’t fucking leave me y/n. You can’t break up our perfect little family that’s just getting started.” His hands slid up the sides of your waist pulling you closer to him.

“I take good care of you and I always will. No matter what. You are mine and I’d never let you go. I need you here with me little one. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided to break up our perfect little life.”

A flood of memories flew through your head. Even images of the future that you thought were to come. You felt a little guilty for trying to leave instead of making things work, but you couldn’t help but think about him being with another woman.

“How long have you been messing with Martha.”

Rage sparked in his eyes as he punched a hole in the wall by your head making your scream. He gripped your chin tightly and forced you to meet his gaze.

“I’ve never touched that fucking woman! She fell and I caught her, nothing more. Do you understand?” When you didn’t respond, he sighed.

“My love. My perfect little bunny, must I show you just how much you mean to me? Shall I show you that nobody can make you feel the things you do for me? Hmm? Must I show you one of the many reason that you love me?”

“Must I remind you who you belong too!?”

~*~

You couldn’t think straight. You really couldn’t think at all. The only thing filling your senses was your husbands dick penetrating you so hard and deep. Your face was wet with tears and saliva that pooled onto the pillow as he drilled into you from behind.

“Ahh, you feel so good little one.” He grunted in your ear. Nanami gripped your neck and pounded deliciously into you. The feeling of your juices getting him going.

It had been too long since you both last had sex and he was going to make it last as long as possible.

“And you’d thought I’d let you leave? With my baby in your womb? You’d thought I’d let another man have you? No, I’d kill anyone who thought they would have a chance.”

Your body shook as another orgasm ripped through you, but he didn’t let up, he just fucked you harder through it. “P-please Nami!”

But your please fell on deaf ears. “No, not until you learn that you can never leave me. You’re mine y/n. You’re nothing but my little dumb slut, my perfect little wife.” He licked up your tears grinding deeper into you.

“Say it! Say that your mine and that you will never leave me! Say that you’ll stay and be my perfect little housewife forever.”

You could feel him going deeper and deeper, skin slapping against each other in perfect rhythm. It was too much, you couldn’t even get a word out. You were moaning so loud and the bed was banging against the wall you were sure it would break. You were also sure Martha could hear everything.

“I’m waiting my little bunny.” Nanami’s voice warmed you. You gushed around his cock even more at his power over you.

He was dominating you. Showing you that you were indeed his. Nobody would make your body feel the way he did. Nobody ever could.

Just as another orgasm ripped through you, you wailed “y-yessss Naaamiiii, yessss i-im yours!”

“You’re my what?” He pressed his shaft into the opening of your cervix making you yelp. “IM YOUR DUMB SLUT DADDY!”

He moaned as he felt you squirt on him. Your essence pooling on the sheets. “Uhhh, that’s it! Let daddy have it all!”

His thrust started to get choppy as he reached his own peak. Spilling all of himself into you. Telling you how much he loved you. How he would never let you go. Ever.

As you both came down, he pulled you into his arms, gently caressing your face and smothering you with gentle kisses. You were exhausted. Falling in and out of sleep with a dazed but satisfied look on your face.

“Fire her.” Was all you could muster up. Nanami laughed and kissed your soft lips.

“Your wish is my command my lady. It always will be.”

You both laid there in each others embraces.

“But don’t think I’m done with you my love. You have awoken a part of me by just telling me your going to leave me. I need to make sure that never happens again.”

His perfect little wife, forever and always.

#smut #anime smut #mature themes #jjk angst #nanami smut #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #toxic relationship #angst #yandere #y/n #part two is finally done ✅#jjk #just read #jjk x y/n

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god-monsters · 1 year ago

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How Lookism Guys Fall in Love with YOU + personal hc

Requested. If you can't tell how repetitive I am from my masterlist, here it is all side by side to show you exactly the sort of tropes I like a LOT. Sorta hc, sorta the storylines-ish I like to write.

Strangers to Lovers

Johan Seong

Meeting Johan and bonding through his pups. You don't even need to show him kindness. Show Eden and Miro kindness and you will enter his thoughts regardless.

A cliched way to a man's heart is his stomach. Feed Johan up too to up the relationship.

Lots of emotional maturing needed for Johan to understand what the hell is going on. Pulls away to get some distance yet always ends up by your side. He can't help it. Eventually just gives in.

Goo Kim

While I personally dislike the love at first sight trope, this guy would absolutely double take if there was something that caught his eye and then he would be his normal extroverted and clingy self to get to know you.

This fucking charmer. Yes he's annoying, but even then he gets under your skin and you can't help falling for him too.

Also a fan of the hot-and-cold-casual-fuck-buddies dynamic. He'll see you every day for a week, wake up in your bed then ghost you for a month. Rinse and repeat. After a little while - oh. Goo realises he misses you.

Samuel Seo

Ah the oh-shit-I-caught-feelings-when-we-were-just-casually-fucking-and-no-strings-attached pining.

Meeting at somewhere like a corporate event or even in a club.

Lots of inner turmoil as he gets to grips with his emotions and how to deal with you. A little bit of push and pull before he eventually admits how he feels.

Ryuhei Kuroda/Xiaolong

Just meeting someone, anyone who is the opposite of Mitsuki and Vivi. Showing them what a normal healthy person, with normal healthy interests looks like. Show them kindness, show them your sweet smile, show them you don't want anything apart from just them and they will fall for you.

Ryuhei - Not really much guilt with moving on from Mitsuki because face it. They weren't exactly anything.

Xiaolong - oof. The most angsty hurt/comfort you can think of.

Friends (classmates) to Lovers

Zack Lee

Long-ish time friend, but nothing progressed due to his feelings for Mira. Gradually circumstances bring you both closer together. Tending to his wounds, school projects, maybe even shopping for a gift for Mira.

Start to see you in a new light. Deals with a lot of denial at first and then later, guilt. Unsurprisingly, it's Mira that notices the change in Zack and encourages him to pursue you.

Vasco Tabasco/Jace Park

Classmate of theirs through J-high or knew them from middle school. Help to tutor Vasco or just generally up to some shit with Jace. Maybe playing detective.

Not involved with Burn Knuckles, but you might as well be. With Vasco or Jace, the rest of the crew treats you with the same level of respect as their No.1/2 and will protect you at all costs.

Relatively straightforward friends to lovers, with all the worries of gang shit.

Vin Jin

Love the idea of Vin Jin, Mary and You being best buds together. Either from Cheonliang or you getting closer to Vin through Mary once they attend J-High.

An absolute asshole though he is a little softer towards you. Takes him a while to fall for you and see you in a new light. Is so used to you as a friend that it will take someone else interfering or an event.

See masterlist for someone asking you on a date or Vin seeing you in his Cheonliang jacket heh (the latter really breaks his brain).

Jake Kim

Childhood friend to lovers. You knew him before he joined Big Deal and/or while he was a tall lanky middle school kid.

Always had a soft spot for you. Walking you home from school, spending evenings in the library messing around, hanging in the park. Once he joined Big Deal and you started high school, it added some distance between you but Jake still could never get you off his mind.

Eventually reconciling and slow burn into lovers. Dealing with all the usual angst of Jake putting you in danger and risking your safety by being with him. Hint: he gets over it eventually. Or else it turns into angsty regret (my personal fave!).

DG/James Lee

You know him from his James Lee days and go way back. Either classmates together or another very typical show-him-a-little-kindness and then wormed your way into his heart.

Sees you more and more, and no matter what, you're never judgemental of him and you're able to talk to him like a normal human being - which is a rarity. Growing closer together until he starts to confide in you. One day, James just realises you're the closest person to him and he likes you. You have grown and grown on him until it's obvious and completely hits him over the head with it.

Progress into lovers is very straightforward. You stick with him through thick and thin. Even with his transition into DG, you're the one constant in his life that he keeps close by and protects.

Eli Jang

Know Eli from his J-high days and always been good buddies with you. Sure you could tell he's good looking but you didn't put him on a pedestal.

Eventually growing closer to him and also meeting Yenna. Which is a huge step, by the way. Eli is so goddamn protective of her and when you are both introduced he thinks 'huh? this is? nice??'. Loves the idea of a happy family.

Bit of angst dealing with the death of Heather and moving on with you.

+ Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Warren Chae, Hudson Ahn, Kwak bros

Colleague/Crew Member to Lovers

Gun Park/Goo Kim

The third partner and completing the Gun/Goo/You trifecta. Teaming up with Goo to piss off Gun or with Gun to become the sassiest, most fearsome duo and a headache for the blonde.

Eugene/Samuel Seo

Working alongside and rising through the ranks, impressing them with your competency that they have no choice but to take notice of you. They struggle treading the line between professionalism and falling for you.

Jake Kim/Sinu Han

Big Deal crew member, joining and working your way into the Boss's heart. Another one for lots of pining and slow burn as they try not to fall for you because they feel it's pretty inappropriate.

Another favourite little scenario: you working on Big Deal street. Either taking up an empty premise or working in a store or restaurant and catching their eye. Flirtation abound especially when they visit you when you should be working and prove to be an awful distraction.

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 4 months ago

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Hiya,

Do you think maybe you could write a Casey x Autistic!reader (not necessarily the same autistic reader from the previous ones) where casey snaps at reader after an interaction where reader thought everything was all fine and dandy, but things were in fact not fine and dandy (plus casey being under a lot of stress from work).

Ive had multiple social interactions where i get whiplashed because i thought i was doing all the right things and saying all the right things, but in fact wasn’t and getting scolded or teased (negative) about it…

-Ara

Hey, Ara! So glad to see a request from you! 💖 Every time you interact with any of my stuff, I'm like, "Oh, yay! Ara's here!" Ngl this one was hard to write. Mostly because I also have been in many social situations where I am trying so hard to do or say the right thing and end up messing things up for people I care about. There are a lot of things about being autistic that I've grown to enjoy and cherish, but this one... oof. This one's still hard. It's a little longer than my usual, but I hope it's what you're looking for! – illdowhatiwantthanks

They Go Low

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: people being meanies, angst (resolved at the end though!), hurt/comfort-ish (?), explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 3.2k

Summary: It's the annual New York County Lawyers Association gala, and you're going as Casey's date. You're terrified of messing something up, socially and, well, when the worst happens...

You exhaled heavily as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your tie and your pocket square. You looked good, objectively speaking. You’d gotten a haircut the day before. The suit was custom-made and fit you like a glove. And Casey had helped you put on “just a little makeup, babe.” But you weren’t worried about looking good at the New York County Lawyers Association Gala. You were worried about acting good.

Casey came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. She looked so pretty it took your breath away. Full evening gown, in a deep, forest green, with a halter top, which you loved because it allowed the dress to contrast against Casey’s hair. Rich and red and glorious and one of your favorite parts of her, even if she did get self-conscious about it sometimes.

“You look so beautiful, honey,” she said, planting a light kiss on your cheek, careful not to leave any lipstick.

“Not as beautiful as you,” you told her. You knew that parties like this should be fun. What you wanted was to be a perfect partner for Casey, to be someone worth showing off at an event like this. Casey already felt like an outsider at a lot of these events because she wasn’t New York law royalty like some of the others. She didn’t come from money. She’d worked to get where she was. Hard.

You’d come a long way in accepting autism as part of yourself, even come a long way in loving yourself for it, thanks in no small part to Casey. But small talk? With strangers? It wasn’t your strong suit. You wanted so badly to make Casey proud, but you always felt like you were subpar. Like there were whole levels of conversation going on above you. You could tell they were there. You knew you were missing things, but you couldn’t tell what you were missing.

You let out another shaky breath, fidgeting, trying hard to keep your fingers quiet at your side as you stimmed, practicing for when you’d be at the gala.

“Hey,” Casey said, turning you around to look at her. You avoided her eyes, but she bent her head a bit so you had to meet them. She ruffled your hair a bit, playing with the waves, with the fluff of it at the top of your head. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “Just nervous.”

“You…” she started, straightening your suit jacket and helping you with your cufflinks. Your heart swelled; you hadn’t even asked–she just knew. “...are charming and funny and sweet. You’re so smart. You’re a great listener. You’re good with people, even if you don’t think you are.”

You nodded, drying your sweaty palms on your suit pants.

“You’re gonna be fine, honey. Alex will be there. So will Liz and Rita. If you get nervous and you can’t find me, or I’m having to talk with other people, you can always find them. They know you and they like you.”

“Okay,” you conceded, voice shaky.

In the taxi, you played with Casey’s fingers–a nervous tick that she indulged. You liked the feeling of a fresh coat of nail polish on her nails, liked to press on it, but you were careful not to press too hard and ruin it tonight.

“I like this color,” you told her, brushing the pads of your fingers along her wine-red nails.

“Me too,” she agreed. “You don’t think it looks too much like Christmas? With the dress?”

You surveyed her quickly and shook her head. “No. It looks nice. You look nice.”

Your leg started to bounce as you got closer to the venue.

“Casey, what will I even talk about? The weather!? The Bill of Rights!?” You were starting to panic a bit, even as you tried to shut it off–it was Casey’s night. You did not want her having to take care of you during the NYCLA gala.

“Well, let’s make a list, yeah?” Casey said, taking your hands and flattening them between hers to relieve the tension you held there. “You can ask about where they’re from and talk about where you’re from. That’s always a classic.”

You nodded, determined not to need help this evening.

“You could ask what type of law they practice.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Casey, I don’t know anything about law.”

She nudged you with her shoulder. “Sure you do! I talk about work all the time. Just talk about the lawyer-y stuff you know from me.”

“Okay.” You were talking more to yourself than her. “Okay, I can do that.”

Casey squeezed your hand as you exited the cab. You took a deep breath, offered her your arm, and walked in, determined to make Casey proud.

And for the most part, you did alright. Casey introduced you around during the cocktail reception, and you figured out what to say. Your go-to was making people laugh. If you could just find an anecdote, just latch onto a story that resonated with these people, then everything became easier. Then it was just a routine, like giving a rehearsed speech instead of improvising every conversation.

You ate dinner, spoke cordially, if quietly, with the other people at yours and Casey’s table, and laughed in all the right spots at the program. You’d even managed to keep your stimming to a minimum.

But now the night was winding down. Groups of lawyers were scattered about the room. When you returned from the restroom, Casey seemed in deep conversation with a few other people, and you didn’t want to interrupt, so you went to stand by the bar, nursing your last cocktail of the night and trying desperately not to look awkward or out-of-place.

A tall man, imposing, but with a friendly face, approached the bar, ordered a dirty martini, and stood nearby. He nodded at you, and you nodded back.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t attend a whole lot of lawyer events,” you replied, taking a quick sip.

The man laughed. That had been one of your best lines of the night.

He introduced himself, extending his hand. “Trevor Langan.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You shook his hand, flashbacks of practicing a “firm handshake” with your dad in the back of your mind.

“So what brings you to the NYCLA gala, if you’re not a lawyer?”

“Oh, um, do you know Casey Novak? She’s in the Manhattan DA’s office?”

Langan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sure! Casey and I go way back.”

You smiled, glad to have something to talk about, something you could talk about forever–Casey. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Ah,” Langan said, tipping his drink toward you, as if in a toast. “Lucky woman.”

“Her or me?”

He burst out laughing and you tried to laugh along, too, even though it had been a genuine question.

“Good one.” He took a sip of his martini. “In all seriousness, though, Casey knows her stuff. She doesn’t crack. Hard to believe she’s human sometimes.”

Oh, now you could hit your stride. Casey as a person. You loved getting to show off Casey’s soft side.

“She’s great at her job,” you agreed. “Not that I know a ton about being a lawyer, but… she struggles, too, you know? Some of the SVU cases can be really emotionally difficult. Like, I know she’s working on one right now that’s really taking a toll.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? What’s the case?”

“There’s this serial rapist,” you explained. “Apparently, they’ve been trying to nail him for years. They had DNA evidence linking him to one of the rapes, but I guess the judge threw it out recently? Not really sure why… But Casey says there’s not a whole lot else to go on, so she’s been working really hard with SVU to dig up more evidence.”

“Huh,” Langan said, nodding toward Casey as she made her toward you both. “Sounds like it might be a lost cause.”

You shook your head, leaning into Casey as she placed her hand on the small of your back. “Nothing’s a lost cause with Casey. Right, honey? I was telling Trevor about that case you’re working on.”

Casey seemed to grow stiff beside you. “The serial rape case?” she asked, and you had to look at her face to confirm what you were hearing. She looked… angry? Scared? You couldn’t quite tell, but it was some flavor of upset. Maybe she was still worried about the case…

“Yeah,” you confirmed, hoping to lift her spirits with a little optimism. “You know, about how hard it is right now because the judge threw out the DNA, but that you’ve got it because you always do.”

She gripped your hand tightly, so tightly it almost hurt, and glared at Langan. “That’s fucking low, Langan. Even for you.”

“Just business, Casey,” he said, holding up his hands in defense.

You felt so deeply confused. Something had gone terribly awry in this conversation. Maybe Casey and Trevor Langan weren’t friends after all?

“You’re an asshole,” she spat at him. “She doesn’t know any better.”

Okay, so they were talking about you. Your mind raced back through the conversation, trying to figure out if you’d said something wrong.

“Yeah, honestly, Novak, I wouldn’t have put you two together,” Langan observed. “I don’t know that she’s quite in your league. You know, mentally.”

You blushed furiously. You got the jab on that one, or at least the implications of it. That you didn’t deserve Casey. Which might be true, but it still hurt for someone else, someone who barely knew you, to see it and say it.

For her part, Casey looked like she might clock Langan with a strong right hook. “Well, she’s way out of yours.”

And with that, Casey pulled you away, out into the brisk, New York spring night. You tried to catch her eye as she hailed a taxi, but she wouldn’t look at you. You were growing increasingly anxious. You’d fucked up somehow. You knew it. You could tell. And you must have fucked up badly or Casey wouldn’t be this mad.

She was quiet on the way home, fuming. And she didn’t hold your hand. She always held your hand. Your stims got more anxious, more obvious, along the ride. You wanted to ask her what was wrong. Wanted her to tell you what it was you’d done to mess everything up, but you were afraid to ask in front of the taxi driver.

You opened your mouth to ask as soon as the door to the apartment shut behind you, but Casey was faster. She was angry. Her face was red. And she was nearly crying. Casey never cried.

“Why the fuck would you tell Langan about that case, Y/N?!” she yelled, furiously kicking her heels off.

You felt your heart drop, panic run up your spine like ice. “I– I was just trying to talk about lawyer stuff.”

“Not that stuff! Case details!? Babe… this is just common sense!”

Your heart felt like it was being suffocated. Your voice was shaky and weak. “H-he said he knew you, that you went way back.”

Casey laughed and pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, yeah. We sure do. Way back.”

You were trying so hard to get what she was saying, but your brain wouldn’t quite make the connection. “I… I don’t understand, Casey.”

A tear streaked down her cheek. “Of course you don’t understand!” she railed. “You never understand!” She sat down heavily, rubbing her forehead. “He’s the fucking rapist’s defense attorney, Y/N! And now he knows we’ve got nothing!”

You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. In fact, you almost would have preferred Casey actually slap you in the face. Tears filled your eyes, and you knew you were about to lose it. Casey had been mad at you before, but not like this. And you knew you didn’t understand a lot of things. You didn’t catch social nuance. It went right over your head. But to hear it from Casey… Casey who usually made you feel like there was nothing wrong with you. You’d ruined something. You’d ruined something important tonight. You felt guilty, but more than that you felt ashamed.

Your hands twitched by your side, and your breath came in huge, desperate gulps, and you knew you were on the verge of breaking down. And that last thing you wanted tonight was for your breakdown to be another fucking thing that Casey had to deal with. Another thing for her to fix. You’d already given her enough to fix tonight.

“Be right back,” you said, because it seemed like something normal to say, and you didn’t want to just exit. You walked quickly to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it.

You sat on the floor and curled yourself as tightly as you could into the corner where the wall and the shower met, pulling your feet to your chest. Suddenly, everything felt very tight, too tight, and you yanked off your tie and your suit jacket, unbuttoning your collar because you could barely fucking breathe right now. You held your head in your hands and rocked back and forth, trying and failing to regulate your breathing. You kept hearing Casey’s and Langan’s words in your head, as if they were on a constant loop, replaying in your mind’s eye: She doesn’t know any better. She’s not quite in your league. You don’t understand, you never understand!

You knew you were crying, but it wasn’t something you were in control of, just hot tears streaming down your face, just your heart beating so rapidly you didn’t know how to tell it to slow down. You’d fucked up. You’d fucked up so bad that you’d hurt Casey. Maybe you’d fucked up so bad that Casey wouldn’t even want to be with you anymore, and who could blame her? You didn’t even really want to be with you. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

You heard a soft knock on the door, but couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it, let alone open it.

“Y/N…” Casey called, voice muffled through the door and through your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Will you open the door, honey?”

You couldn’t respond, didn’t want to respond, felt worse for Casey having to worry about you now. As if you hadn’t already given her enough to worry about tonight.

And your rocking back and forth, your absolute spiral, stopped only when you heard Casey’s voice crack, when you thought she might be crying. And your instinct to take care of her took over your instinct to wallow in self-loathing.

“Please, baby,” she begged. “I’m so sorry. Just let me in.”

You scrambled quickly to the door and unlocked it, then scrambled back to your corner, huddling protectively, your body literally shaking. You were scared, you realized. You didn’t like being scared of Casey. If anything, Casey should be scared of you, and how’d you’d mess things up for her. You buried your face in your hands as you heard the door creak open. You didn’t want to meet her eyes, terrified of what might be in them.

You heard Casey approach you, could feel the shift in the air around you as she sat down next to you, the rustle of her dress as she adjusted it.

You were so anxious that you were gripping tufts of your hair. You weren’t going to pull it out, but it gave you something to grab, at least.

“Y/N, honey, can you look at me?” she asked, and you could tell from how thick her voice was that she’d been crying.

You shook your head, still rocking back and forth.

She exhaled deeply, then continued. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. You do understand, okay? You understand me. You understand when it matters. You didn’t do anything wrong tonight. It was a dick move by Langan.”

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Casey. You were suspicious of her. Casey always made sure you were okay. You could see her lying to you to try to make you feel better. You felt her brush a bit of hair out of your face and jerked away.

“Look, if anything, it’s my fault,” she continued. “I should have been clearer about what lawyer things to talk about or not.”

Now, this you couldn’t abide by. Casey making it her fault? No. You lifted your face, blotched red with tear stains and looked at her, and the way her makeup ran–clearly she’d been crying–it broke your heart.

“You shouldn’t have to fucking explain!” you cried. “That’s not fair to you, Case! I should just know, and I don’t because I’m fucking dumb!”

“Hey,” she said, her voice sharp as she grasped your face in both hands. “You are not dumb. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“Stop lying to me!” you pleaded, more tears dripping down your face.

“Look at me,” Casey said, her voice rough with emotion as she held your face even tighter. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You know what is wrong? That you have to act a certain way for all those people tonight to like you. That’s dumb.”

You tried to look away, but she only gripped you harder. Her voice broke and you wanted to cry even more, cry with her and for her.

“Honey, you are so smart,” she continued between gulps of breath. “And so kind. And you have such a special way of making people feel like they can be themselves. You know you make me feel more loved than anyone ever has? You remember everything about me, everything I say. And you listen and you notice things and you… you make me feel like I’m who I’m supposed to be.”

Your sobs had quieted a little, until you were just shaking now, hiccuping with the aftermath. “You are, Casey,” you choked out. “You’re perfect.”

“See that?” she said, smiling a little and wiping your face with her hands. “You are twice the person Trevor Langan is. You build people up, you don’t bring them down.”

You let Casey slide next to you, let her wrap her arm around you and rest her chin on the top of your head.

“I’m still so sorry,” you mumbled. “I fucked up your whole case.”

She sighed and chuckled. “Honestly, it was already fucked. And Langan would have found out sooner or later.”

You let out a shaky sigh and settled into Casey, your head tucked under her neck, ear pressed to her chest so you could hear her heartbeat drawing you back down from your spiral.”

She breathed evenly, running her hands gently through the short hairs at the back of your head.

After a few minutes, Casey kissed the top of your head and pressed her hand to the side of your face, holding you close to her chest. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, snaking your arms around her waist and burying your face in her neck. “I love you, too.”

#casey novak #casey novak fanfic #casey novak x reader #casey novak x fem!reader #casey novak x autistic!reader #angst #svu #law and order svu #svu fanfic

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weast-of-eden · 9 months ago

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I've been thinking about how I could contribute to the ACD/Granada Sherlock Holmes fandom for a while, seeing as I'm neither an artist, a writer, or anything actually useful lol. But then I realized something I myself always treasure are curated fic recs, which I could actually do! I've read probably like 25% of all the h/w ACD and Granada fics on ao3, so I compiled a short list for anyone who is just starting out with the fandom. Without further ado, may I present

Eden’s Top Picks for Beginning ACD/Granada Fics:

(edit: i made a second list here!!)

The Adventure of the Doctor's Heart by mistyzeo 12k | Rated E Summary: Holmes has observed much of Watson's habits and tastes over time, which is why it surprises him when his friend objects strangely to a folk song sung at the conclusion of a case. Disturbed by the Doctor's unexpected display of emotion, Holmes becomes determined to lift his spirits by any means necessary, with mixed results. Notes: obviously if you're going to read canonverse h/w, you are going to read mistyzeo. this one is just so good and angsty and features music (!!). it's got some steaminess but it also has wooing. basically it has everything you ever need. this is my odyssey, my iliad, my hamlet, etc.

Cameo by what_alchemy 8k | Rated M | For Archive Users Only Summary: Holmes and Watson become embroiled in a case Scotland Yard refuses to acknowledge. A soulmate AU. Notes: i honestly skipped over this fic for a while, since i'm not the biggest fan of soulmate aus. do not make the same mistake i did, because this shit HITS. this fic has hit after hit: soulmate-mark based case for our main duo, angst, hiatus feels, MORE ANGST, and ofc a happy ending. ugh. read this fic if you enjoy being happy.

A Tide That Does Not Turn by tweedisgood 3k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is a very bad patient with a devoted doctor who adores him. Watson wishes it was safe to speak up, but his friend is a tide that does not turn. Notes: do NOT read this if you don't like angst... ok now i'm sensing a pattern. anyways this is the first hurt/no comfort fic i read for this tag and i literally have cried more than enough tears over it. poor, poor watson :( iconic author though, read everything they write!

The Adventure of the Glad Outlaw by radondoran 7k | Rated T Summary: While Sherlock Holmes solves the mystery of a student's disappearance, Dr. Watson is more puzzled by the changing dynamic between his flatmate and himself. Notes: cute pastiche! a nice little mystery and a nice little get-together. ahhhhhh.... this fic is like cotton candy to me, so sweet and fluffy. defo recommend

Hands by MinorObsessions (draculard) 1.4k | Rated T Summary: Naturally, there are some things Watson thinks about Holmes that don't make it into the books. Notes: i'm also in the star trek fandom, so if you know anything about that then you know that hands are kind of A Thing in both circles and ergo i now Have A Thing about hands. so this is a nice little ode to holmes' hands, featuring some doctoring by watson AND a nice reverse appraisal at the end. it's so sweet :)

Conductor of Light by ColebaltBlue 1.4k | Rated T Summary: A Victorian stiff upper lip won't prevent you from falling in love, but it might prevent you from realizing it. Notes: they finally get their shit together! honestly i would recommend this fic to anyone just starting out with h/w fics in any medium. the characterization and dialogue is A1, and their argument is really realistic to me, idk. also features the iconic HOUN quote for its title so props to that!

A (Mis)fortunate Man by sans_patronymic 1.5k | Rated T Summary: December, 1880. Watson writes a note which may be his last. December, 1899. Watson writes back. Notes: READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING. this was a gut-wrenching read but god i cried at the end for watson. don't worry, this one has a happy ending. ugh now i wish there was a second chapter where watson lets holmes read the letters. to sum up: oof, my heart

The Second Smartest Man in London by FairSinner 73k | Rated E Summary: Dr John Watson returns from Afghanistan to Victorian London, wounded, traumatised and alone. When he meets Sherlock Holmes, his life begins to seem worth living again. But Holmes is a man who despises sentiment and Watson cannot seem to expunge it from his heart. Notes: congrats, you've made it to the end!! so now i must confess that it's been a loooong time since i've read this fic, but the private note i left on my bookmark was just "holy shit", so i'm sure it's a banger. i'm also sure it has angst because i love angst and i love bookmarking angst so i can read it again and again and suffer infinitely. enjoy :)

anyways, now that i've put these all here i realized how much i enjoy angst and hurt/no comfort fics. if any of you guys have a favorite fic you want to link or want to plug your own writing, feel free to!

#i hope this is coherent #or at least helpful to someone lol #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #granada holmes #granada johnlock #acd johnlock #fic rec #acd johnlock fic rec #granada johnlock fic rec

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grandlinedreams · 1 year ago

Note

helloooo!! i was wondering if you could write a story about how law and the reader had a fight, but the reader feels really bad about it,, so they take a hit for him in an battle and almost die ?!!

i understand if you don’t feel comfortable with writing this,,, have a good day/night !!🫶🏻

OUGH I LOVE THAT TROPE TOO GOD LET'S BRING THE PAIN TRAIN but also love putting Law in situations. like bro if you didn't want to don't be so blorbo (borrowing a lil bit from one of my favorite books bc it has a scene like that and OOF)

[heads up!: angst, blood/injury]

There's blood on his hands.

Thick and smelling of copper, it covers his tattoos, his fingertips, his palms. When he looks at his reflection, he distantly notes that it's spattered against his neck and his shirt, too.

There's so much of it, and none of it is his.

"Captain?" Bepo's voice is small and hollow, uncertain as he watches Law sway a little at the sink before he turns the handle and begins scrubbing at his hands. "Are you okay?"

Law wants to laugh. What a stupid question ㅡ but he isn't sure how to answer. Does Bepo mean physically? Mentally? Emotionally? He scrubs at his nails, watches his skin tint pink from the force. Watery red swirls down the drain. "I'm fine, Bepo."

They both know he's lying.

ㅡ

"I'm telling you, this is a bad idea!" Your eyes are narrowed, blazing with fury as you jab your finger into Law's chest for emphasis. "You know better than this. There's no way this will end well, Law. You're going to get someone killed!"

Law's temper flares, and he reaches to bat your hand away from him before he steps around you. "If you have such a problem with the way I lead this crew, then maybe you shouldn't be part of it."

Law won't let anyone else change your bandages.

He winds and unwinds them, an endless loop with peeks at skin knitted back together with thick black thread. His hands ache with the memory of sewing you back together, knowing he'd been actively trying to wrench death's bony fingers from around you.

Pulling back, his gaze drifts over the bandages to the steady rise and fall of your chest. If there's a god who takes requests, he's ready to offer up a plea for you to make it out of this. You have to. You need to.

He still has to apologize.

ㅡ

It takes almost a week before you open your eyes. It's the twitch of your fingers that alerts him first, the shift in your breathing ㅡ and then you're staring at him. Your expression is blank and your eyes are still a little cloudy from medicated sleep, but you're awake. You're alive.

There are a thousand things that Law could say and should, but what tumbles from his lips is nowhere close to any of them.

"You're an idiot."

You blink at him. "Your bedside manner is terrible," you croak, hissing when pain lances up your left side like a wildfire. "What happened? Did I get in a fight with a sea king and lose?"

Law doesn't laugh at your attempt at humor, terrible as it is. He lets his gaze drift, assessing your injuries from minor to major, as he's done for days now. He doesn't want to look at the biggest one, the one that almost took you from him ㅡ so he stares at the bandaid on your cheek. "You were right," he finally says. "About that informant."

You blink. "Oh." You try to move a little, trying to see what else hurts. "Could you repeat that? It's not every day that I hear you admit that I was right about something."

His eyes narrow as his temper flares. "Don't joke," he hisses, "you almost died because you just had to get in the way."

He's doing this all wrong, he knows that ㅡ but he can't quite control his tongue because somewhere he's still a child demanding to know why someone is willing to risk their life for him.

"You're right," you say, and when he looks up he finds you watching him, expression neutral. "I shouldn't joke. I'm sorry."

Law studies you for several long minutes before he speaks again. "Why did you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

His eyes narrow. "Don't play dumb, [Name]. You know what I mean."

You stare at the ceiling, counting the rivets. "Because the Heart Pirates are nothing without our captain," you say, "because we can't afford to lose you. And...I needed to apologize."

Law stares.

"...Apologize." He hears you mumble softly, paler than he's ever seen you as he gathers you up, clutches at you like that alone will stop you from bleeding to death before he ever gets a chance to try and save you.

"So you almost got yourself killed in order to apologize to me? That'sㅡ"

"Something an idiot would do," you interrupt. "Good to know I'm doing what's expected of me."

"Youㅡ" Law shuts his mouth with the click of teeth, jaw taut as he tries his best not to blow up on you before his shoulders sag with a sigh. "Just concentrate on healing. And don't pull a stupid stunt like this ever again." He reaches up, giving the brim of his hat a nervous tug. "I don't like almost losing crewmates."

He doesn't like almost losing you.

"Does that mean I'm still part of the Heart Pirates?" He's confused by your question before the crux of this entire ordeal comes back to him ㅡ the argument the two of you'd had. He doesn't know if you mean to turn the knife, but you do as you repeat his words to him. "If you have such a problem with the way I lead this crew, then maybe you shouldn't be part of it."

His stomach twists. "You're still part of this crew," he reassures you, "which is why I'm telling you that you're not allowed to pull stupid stunts like this again. Am I clear?"

Your eyes lock. "Yes, captain."

The expression on his face softens. "Good."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #–ml: law.

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oddinary4bts · 1 year ago

Text

Emotions of the Soul | knj

☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think

☆word count: 36.3k

☆a/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeai for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆☆☆☆☆

The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.

You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.

At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attention…

Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.

You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you weren’t going to risk being recognized – no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.

No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.

You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.

Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didn’t pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.

It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.

Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldn’t wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.

Which wasn’t going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.

Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.

“The celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,” Na Sooah said. “Most of those invited showed up.”

“I still can’t believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Most of them know nothing about art.”

Sooah laughed. “Not all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.”

Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoon’s name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time… and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.

Namjoon’s love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.

Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadn’t even joined Big Hit yet.

“Kim Namjoon,” you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.

You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.

Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.

“Yeah, he’s created quite a commotion outside,” Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.

Could that have been Namjoon?

“And when he RSVP’ed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope you’re ready,” Sooah added, teasingly.

You glared at her through your mask. “You couldn’t have told me before?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.”

At that, Sooah laughed out loud. “Got a little crush?”

“Quite the opposite,” you said through gritted teeth.

You hated Kim Namjoon.

You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.

Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didn’t look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.

When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.

You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.

One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.

He wouldn’t recognize you. You were positive he wasn’t going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to – matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.

After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.

Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasn’t in your vicinity yet.

He wasn’t. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you weren’t even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe you’d make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.

You could leave immediately after your speech, right?

“And what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?” the older man in front of you asked.

You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. “If you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?” you asked.

It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. “The end carries weight,” the wife said pensively. “It carries age and wisdom.”

You offered her a polite nod. “Exactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.”

“Fall is beautiful,” the man agreed. “But wouldn’t you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.”

“A different kind of beauty. Which, maybe it’s going to inspire my next exhibit,” you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.

You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didn’t want it to come back.

Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.

Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.

The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.

You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.

“If you could choose,” you started, voice steadier than you expected it’d be. “Would you choose the end or the beginning?”

The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.

“There is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing you’ve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,” you continued. “There’s beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.” You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. “My exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.” You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. “When the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, ‘Have I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?’”

The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.

You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened – if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didn’t look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.

Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.

While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.

It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.

All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.

Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.

You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.

“Hi,” Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didn’t want to miss you.”

Sooah could go to hell.

You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. “I do usually slip away in the night,” you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. “You caught me right before I was to leave.”

When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.

At least when he was a teen, he could.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Namjoon admitted. “Your manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?

“I’ve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,” he added to your stunned silence.

“You didn’t have to talk to me to ask for that,” you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.

“I wanted to have the artist’s insight on which piece she’d believe would fit best for me,” he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Or maybe even have one made personally?”

Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. “I do not take commissions,” you flatly replied. “If you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon quickly said. “I didn’t want to sound rude. Like at all. It’s just… there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldn’t buy it in time.”

“I do not remake pieces.”

Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?

“Right,” he eventually said. “How unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.”

It was said like a joke, but you didn’t bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didn’t seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.

“Might as well,” you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.

It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, “Guess I’ll let you escape through the night.”

You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, “Good luck with getting the piece.”

At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.

You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.

“Thank you, Maehwa,” he gently said.

Hearing him say your artist’s name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didn’t see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.

Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door you’d just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.

Maehwa had been Namjoon’s nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didn’t seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you he’d kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.

Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoung’s wedding next summer.

She wasn’t even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and you’d rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.

Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldn’t see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? It couldn’t.

Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?

*****

December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoung’s engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.

Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.

Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singer’s stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.

The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.

You hadn’t slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadn’t worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.

You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.

“Please tell me you haven’t been up all night,” Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.

She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. “I was almost done.”

Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.

“Clearly,” Sooah sarcastically said.

Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.

“I meant I’m almost done with what I wanted to finish,” you specified.

Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.

“Why did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?” she asked, with the most innocent voice.

Your mouth fell open. “What? It was all over the news.”

“You know I don’t watch the news!” Miyoung exclaimed. “Sooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.”

“I-“

“And why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?” Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.

“Mimi!” you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.

“The art!” Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. “Be careful with your art!”

You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. “Why did you tell her? I was fifteen!”

“Still counts,” Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.

But you wouldn’t be fooled. “It clearly doesn’t.” You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. “Right? Who cares about a teenage ex?”

She laughed. “Clearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?”

You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.

“I don’t care,” you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldn’t really wait anymore.

Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

“Well then,” she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. “You won’t care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.”

You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.

“What the fuck?”

Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didn’t just announce the worst news of your life to you. “Yeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and it’s going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.”

“But Kim Namjoon?” you complained. “Couldn’t you have chosen… I don’t know, some cool indie artist?”

“He’s a cool artist,” Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is he really?”

“His music is good,” Miyoung cut in innocently.

Your head snapped towards her. “You listen to his music?”

“Yeah, the album he released in December is good.”

And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldn’t really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.

Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her – or worse, to murder her – and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didn’t think Namjoon’s music was good.

It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didn’t mean you had to be present, right?

*****

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.

You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didn’t really have a say in this – what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.

Still, you were given a reprieve – the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.

You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didn’t dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.

You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.

Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.

“Are you Maehwa?” he asked.

You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. “You can’t just sneak on people like this,” you grumbled.

Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.

“It really is you.”

You gulped. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldn’t know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasn’t your ex from so many years ago.

“Y/n, don’t play this game with me,” Namjoon said, teasingly. “I was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.”

You scoffed. “What do you want?”

This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. “Your manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.”

You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldn’t you?

You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.

“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “What do you need to prepare?”

He tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and that’s how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.”

The nerves on this man…

“It’s been over ten years, I’ve changed.” You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. “What do you need to prepare?”

He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. “Do you have an office somewhere around here?”

You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. “I have my studio downstairs,” you grumbled. “Follow me.”

He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.

Namjoon’s heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.

No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didn’t they?

You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. “Have a seat.”

You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.

Namjoon’s gaze trailed to you. “Sorry.”

He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. “Your art has improved a lot through the years.”

You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. “Do you want coffee? Or a tea?”

“Just water would be fine,” he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.

You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.

You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.

“You’ve changed,” he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” you drawled. “I would expect someone to change after thirteen years.”

Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. “Yet you haven’t changed at all.” At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, “You’re still just as petty as I remember you to be.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?”

He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, “I don’t mean to insult you at all”.

Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just weird to see you again,” he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. “You look… good.”

Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. “It is weird, right?”

He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. “I’m happy your dreams worked out.”

Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.

“I worked hard,” you replied carefully. “As you have, I presume.”

At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I sure have.”

Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.

“So, what did you want to prepare?” you asked once you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Oh,” he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. “I wanted to give you the list of questions that I’m going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,” he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have shared them by email?”

Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.

“I could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,” he explained. “Before the day of shooting, that is.”

You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.

Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Was there anything else you needed?”

He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. “Not… really.” He wet his lips, watching you carefully. “I just thought it’d be great to catch up.” His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. “To get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I haven’t heard about you since we broke up.”

“Because I wanted it to be this way,” you replied. “And why do you have to say it like you didn’t believe I’d make it?”

“Wait, no,” he quickly said. “That’s not what I meant.”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Of course not.”

He laughed. “Really? After all these years, you’re still mad at me?”

“You did tell me you wanted to kill me,” you reminded him in a grumble.

He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. “Did I?”

“You don’t remember?”

At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just… I guess I forgot.”

“Oh,” you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.

Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, “I was intense, wasn’t I?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”

You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldn’t look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.

“I…” he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. “You can send it to my manager, she’ll have it sent to me.”

If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”

You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?

“Did you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.”

He looked almost startled by your invitation. “I… have eaten, actually,” he replied truthfully, never one to lie. “But if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.”

You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.”

He didn’t call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Then I guess I’ll see you next week.”

You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.

You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.

What the hell had just happened?

*****

Namjoon’s list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.

Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didn’t help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.

This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoon’s company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didn’t say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.

And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.

The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoul’s painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.

They were the easiest ones, after all.

“At what age did you start painting?” Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.

Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. “I started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.”

Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.

You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.

“What do you like so much about painting?”

You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, “It allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.”

You weren’t sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.

You hoped the camera didn’t catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.

“I think that’s understandable,” he replied truthfully. “Creating music feels a little like that, at least for me.”

You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.

And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didn’t see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.

To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.

“As we bring this interview to an end,” Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, “I have one last question for our artist.” He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, “Why did you choose the name Maehwa?”

You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Uh,” you let out, coughing a little. “When I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?”

‘A friend of mine translated’ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.

“It’s a pretty name,” Namjoon reflected.

His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.

He had been there after all.

“Thank you,” you replied, a little breathlessly.

After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.

“Everything okay?”

You offered him a no-bullshit look. “You didn’t tell me about that last question.”

It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.

“I honestly thought it up during the interview,” he admitted. “I should have warned you.”

You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. “It’s whatever. Why did you even want to know that?”

“Because I gave you that nickname…” he said, looking suddenly ashamed.

As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didn’t like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, “You did.”

He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.

Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.

“Do you…” you started, not knowing where you were headed.

Yet it was like he knew. “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?” he asked, finishing your sentence.

You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. “Only if you take me somewhere nice.”

“You deserve the best,” he said, nodding once. “I know just the place.”

You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. “Then yes, I’d like to grab dinner with you.”

At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. “For a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.”

The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, “Why?”

“You haven’t been…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. “You haven’t been very warm,” he finished as his eyes settled back on you.

You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. “Right.” You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. “We didn’t part on exactly good terms, you know?”

“Yeah.” He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, “I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you”, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the hand.

He stubbornly kept it there. “Pretending that this is my first time meeting you,” he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, “So that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.”

It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. “I already agreed to grab dinner with you, but…” you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. “Nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. I’m Y/n.”

He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.

“You come here often?” he asked, adding your name at the end. “I’ve never seen you around.”

You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.

“You’re bad at this,” you teased him. “We’re in my studio, of course, I come here often.”

He nodded. “Ah, I apologize. It’s my first time around, after all.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.

“I’m serious,” he told you. “It’d be great to start on new grounds.”

“I know. I fully agree,” you said. “It’s just… who would have thought I’d accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.”

He didn’t reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you weren’t sure you really recognized him.

Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.

“So,” he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. “This time, I assume you’ll allow me to write down your number?”

You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. “Sure, I’ll put it in your phone.”

He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. “I lost my phone.”

“What?”

He repeated sheepishly. “I think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.”

That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. “Okay then, I’ll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?”

The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. “That works for me.”

You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.

“There you go,” you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. “Text me when you can.”

“I will,” he said.

It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.

*****

“You are shitting me,” Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.

Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. “No…”

“You’re grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?” she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.

“Huh,” you let out. “Yeah, seems like I am.”

She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe him. You’re supposed to hate him. You didn’t even want to listen to his music, and now you’re going out with him?” She paused to laugh again. “Sooah won’t believe this.”

“Come on,” you whined. “It’s nothing.”

“Shut up,” Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m texting Sooah right now to let her know.”

You tried to steal your friend’s phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.

“It’s just dinner,” you pointed out. “Nothing to freak out about.”

Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?” Her gaze widened before you could even speak. “Are you only going because he’s RM of BTS?”

You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.

“No?” you said. “I don’t care that he’s RM. I accepted the offer because… I don’t know, at the end of the day, he’s a childhood friend.”

“A childhood friend? He was your first everything.”

Touché. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldn’t even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after – mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “I only told you because I don’t know how to date. I never really go on dates.”

She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh my God, it is a date, right?”

You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. “I mean, I think so? Don’t you?”

“I thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,” she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. “Alright, alright,” she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. “First, we’ll need to figure out what you need to wear.”

You nodded, nibbling at your lips. “He mentioned dinner at a restaurant.”

He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.

“So then you want to dress nicely,” Miyoung said, nodding once. “A nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it with…”

“Y/n!” Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. “How dare you not tell me you’re getting dinner with a celebrity?”

Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.

You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.

She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. “This is manager business. You can’t just decide…”

“Cut it,” Miyoung interrupted. “You literally bet with me last week that it would happen.”

Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. “I sure did, and I won.” She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoung’s hand. “Thank you,” your manager said. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“They’re getting dinner at a restaurant,” Miyoung declared before you could speak. “What’s the name again?”

You didn’t remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. “Huh…” you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. “Seasons of Seoul.”

Sooah’s mouth fell open. “The Seasons of Seoul? That’s one fancy-ass restaurant.”

You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooah’s voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. “It is,” you said, voice lilting into a whine. “It’s definitely above my budget.”

“Namjoon seems like a gentleman,” Miyoung pointed out “I’m pretty sure he’ll pay.”

“For sure,” Sooah agreed. “When’s the date?”

You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. “We haven’t decided on a day yet.”

“Just tell me when and I’ll clear your schedule,” Sooah said. “I don’t care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.”

You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Yah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!” Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you weren’t at home and couldn’t rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.

You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.

You said no to all of your friends’ suggestions, mostly because it didn’t feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.

“Yes, please, please, please!” Miyoung exclaimed. “We haven’t gone in forever. It’ll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.”

You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. “As long as you don’t bring me to those fancy stores,” you said. “I hate when people talk to me while I’m shopping for clothes.”

Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.

“Come on,” Sooah let out. “Maybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.”

“I’ve barely even started working on it, it’s not going to be for another full year, at least,” you pointed out. “No need to shop for an outfit now.”

“Pleaseeee,” Miyoung begged. “It’s going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed café you like so much.”

The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. “Mmh,” you hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“Bitch!” Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “We’re going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.”

You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll go. As long as you don’t make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.”

“Your entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,” Miyoung pointed out.

“You did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,” Sooah reminded you.

They had allied against you, hadn’t they?

“Right,” you let out.

“So you have nothing to say for your defense,” Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. “We’re going tomorrow, and you’re coming with us. And,” she added, nodding forcefully, “And you will enjoy yourself.”

You laughed at how dumb she looked. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didn’t really care.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.

It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.

“Oh my God,” you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the café. “He texted me,” you whispered then for only your friends to hear.

Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.

“What did he say?” she asked.

You didn’t answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. “Looks like you’re going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.”

Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.

“Consider it done!”

*****

You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.

Gosh.

You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you weren’t sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.

Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.

You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.

But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.

Namjoon looked … incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.

He was an artist, too, after all.

Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers – rose and white and lilac – and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.

Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. “You as well,” you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. “You can come in, I’ll just go put these in water.”

He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.

Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. Let’s go.”

He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didn’t drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.

You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.

Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoon’s gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.

He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.

You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you weren’t sure you belonged in such a place.

“Sit!” Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.

“You don’t…” you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.

A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldn’t tell why you hadn’t smelled it before – maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.

“What?” he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.

You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, “Since when are you such a gentleman?”

That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. “Wasn’t I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?”

Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.

“Were you?”

He winced, chuckling again. “Not at all. But I grew out of it.”

He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.

“Bangtan changed you, didn’t it?”

He nodded pensively. “I think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.”

You furrowed your brows in question. “I don’t know a lot about Bangtan but… isn’t Seokjin older than you?”

Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, ‘I’ll have whatever you have’.

“This Cabernet is actually my favourite. So we’ll take this one, please,” you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.

You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan – she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.

It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadn’t noticed it before – had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?

When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Does this happen often?”

He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. “More than you can imagine.” He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. “But you don’t have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind, but you weren’t surprised that he had thought of it.

“That’s more of a relief for you than it is for me,” you pointed out.

He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “You have a reputation too! You’re an artist, just like me.”

That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. “I don’t think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. I’m just a painter.”

“You’re much more than just a painter, Maehwa.”

Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldn’t be surprised if they did – Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.

“I’m not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,” you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.

“Evidently not.”

A comfortable silence moved between you – the first of the evening, you reckoned – and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.

“Want to taste?” you asked him, motioning to his own glass.

He picked it up, nodding his head. “Please. I’m surprised to know you have a favourite wine.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.

A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.

Not that you were a snobby artist – you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.

“I like it,” Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. “Nice choice.”

You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.

As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.

Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.

“No, but,” he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. “To be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasn’t even my fault.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “You were the one holding it,” you reminded him.

You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldn’t understand how he had broken it.

“You tickled me!” he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. “It was entirely your fault.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. “I barely even touched you.”

He glared at you, though it didn’t last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.

Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chef’s outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.

Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. “This is the friend I told you about.”

She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.

You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoon’s friends’ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.

She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.

“Have a good evening,” she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.

You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.

“She’s Seokjin’s ex,” Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.

Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. “Your bandmate?”

He nodded. “They broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,” he explained. “They were engaged.”

You weren’t sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.

“Anyway,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Shall we eat?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied, a little too quickly.

It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjin’s ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.

When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.

The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoon’s eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.

No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.

“So,” Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. “I…” He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. “Thank you for tonight.”

You couldn’t help your own blush as you replied, “I’m glad I said yes.”

He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.

“We should…” he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. “We should do this again.”

The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. “I would love to.”

“What about on Sunday? There’s this exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?”

“You want to bring an artist to another artist’s exhibit?”

He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, who’d offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.

So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, “I’m kidding, yes, I’d love to accompany you.”

He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.

“Well then,” he said, smiling that dimpled smile. “I should get you home, it’s getting late.”

The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. “Right,” you agreed.

It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoon’s hand accidentally grazed yours – or perhaps it was on purpose – you hooked a finger around his pinky.

Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.

By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.

You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.

Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.

“The car is here,” Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.

You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.

He really wasn’t a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.

You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoon’s thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.

You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.

He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.

And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.

Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.

As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoon’s soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.

As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you weren’t alone in the car.

You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. “I don’t know if it’s the wine,” you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, “but I really want to kiss you more.”

That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. “Not here,” he said, head motioning to the driver. “You’ll have to wait until Sunday.”

You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, “Do you want to sleep over tonight?”

His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. “You’d like that?”

You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. “Yes.”

It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.

The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.

You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.

The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.

“Oh no,” he let out.

You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. “Don’t worry, it was just a cheap vase.”

He looked down at the mess, nodding once. “I’ll buy you another one.”

And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasn’t budging.

“Hold on,” you said, putting your hands above his.

Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldn’t resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.

The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.

“You think we can make it to my room,” you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.

“You’ll have to show me the way.”

You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.

You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoon’s lips were carving against you.

You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldn’t get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.

It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.

You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didn’t quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.

“I want you too,” you replied breathily.

You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, “Take that skirt off”.

Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.

“You should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip them”, he added.

You didn’t doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.

This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.

He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.

“Get on the bed,” he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.

He didn’t say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.

His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.

Needless to say, he didn’t look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.

He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.

The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly – he looked far bigger than you had initially thought he’d be, though you weren’t all that surprised with his large frame.

“Take off your bra,” he said next. “I want to see your breasts.”

You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, “Beautiful” as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.

And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.

He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. “Not tonight,” he told you. “Tonight is about feeling, not about seeing.”

For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you weren’t mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people – the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.

If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didn’t see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didn’t argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.

He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.

“You’re going to feel good for me, mmh?”

You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.

The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.

“You think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?” he asked.

For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, “Namjoon.”

“Yes, baby?”

You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didn’t watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didn’t budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Couldn’t bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.

“What is it?” he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.

He wasn’t one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.

“You want me to suck your dick?” you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.

His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didn’t expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.

“Want me to suck you dry?” you added. “Want to come down my throat?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. “Better get to work, baby. You’re a lot of talk for someone that hasn’t touched me yet.”

“Say please,” you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.

“Fuck,” he repeated, adding your name at the end. “Who would have thought you had this in you?”

Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. “That wasn’t please.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, “Please, baby. Please suck my dick.”

You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. “Good boy.”

That was Namjoon’s undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.

Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.

You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.

Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didn’t really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You’re so big,” you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.

“Why don’t you sit?” you told him, letting go of his dick.

He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.

“Suck me, baby,” he said, still sounding just as whiny.

Feeling like a brat, you replied, “What do I get in exchange?”

His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.

“I’ll fuck you good,” he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I’ll fuck you good until your legs shake and you can’t walk anymore. Is that a good deal?”

You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.

“Careful with the balls,” he warned you.

You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.

“My bad,” you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. “Let me make it up to you.”

He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.

As big as he was, you found you couldn’t keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in – or as much of him as you could – you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.

Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.

You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.

“So big I can’t even suck you properly,” you commented.

“I’ll stretch you wide open, baby,” he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. “I’ll stretch you so wide you’ll cry my name.”

It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. “Fuck, Namjoon.”

He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.

“Should I ride you?” you asked him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“You’ll need me to get you ready,” he answered once he was able to look at you again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasn’t wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.

“Ride my face?” he suggested as you debated what to do.

You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, “Lie down.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.

You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.

When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.

“Fuck,” you told him. “Right there.”

He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.

You wouldn’t be surprised – he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.

As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.

Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.

You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoon’s tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didn’t move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.

“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Namjoon promised.

All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.

“You’re going to take all of me, mmh?” he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Yes,” you answered.

He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, “Get on all fours. I want to look at your ass while I’m fucking you.”

“You’d like that?” you teased him. “You want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?”

Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.

“Put this on,” you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.

He looked down at your hand. “What size is that?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Regular.”

He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. “I need bigger than that, baby,” he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.

Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.

“Gosh, you’re so sexy like this,” he praised you. “Ever since he saw you again, I’ve been wanting to see you like this.”

A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.

“Fuck me,” you told him. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”

He slapped your ass. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.

He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.

It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “You take me so well.”

He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.

He didn’t pull on your hair harder than that, didn’t force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment – you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.

When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. “Do you want to switch position?” he asked.

As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.

“Lean back on your hands,” you ordered.

He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.

“Shit,” you cursed.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “You’re so fucking deep.” And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. “So fucking big we can see you in me.”

He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.

You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, and he looked at you.

The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.

When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.

“Lie down for me,” he gently said.

You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasn’t out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.

When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.

Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didn’t move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.

“You made quite a mess,” you teased him.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly said. “Was that okay?”

You nodded. “As long as you clean it up, yes.”

He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.

You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoon’s cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.

“Can you pass me the shampoo?”

He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. “I’ll wash your hair.”

The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didn’t get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoon’s lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.

Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.

That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after you’d disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.

After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.

Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.

*****

You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadn’t been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride – a company official ride, considering he couldn’t drive – you hadn’t been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parents’ kitchen, remembering growing up.

Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.

You hadn’t told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadn’t pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.

Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasn’t only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted – complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.

But your worries were still haunting you. Hadn’t stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You weren’t able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.

That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadn’t come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.

Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted you’d ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.

So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.

You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.

You weren’t sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.

It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldn’t shake what he had said out of your mind.

Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?

The answer was easy. No, you didn’t wish to be just that. You’d never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.

Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.

Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t sleep over, or ask you to stay.

Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.

You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.

You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped you’d find inspiration by the time you were back home.

Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.

The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.

You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didn’t pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.

Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.

It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.

You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.

You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you told him, hand on your racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just out on a walk,” he informed you. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”

He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. “Your parents are bothering you?” you teased, gently nudging him.

“Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been songwriting since I got here? Can’t get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought it’d help clear my mind.”

Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.

“Couldn’t paint,” you admitted.

“Your parents are bothering you?” he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.

This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.

“You know,” he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. “I was hoping we could hang out, while we’re here?”

He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of your parents asking questions?”

“Not really,” he answered. “They know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.”

Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Is that something that we’re supposed to be doing?” you enquired.

It seemed to take him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldn’t deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.

“What are we, exactly?” you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.

Namjoon’s eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. “What?”

The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. “It’s just… we’ve only been hanging out for sex, correct?”

“Is that what it is for you?” he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.

You chuckled awkwardly. “To be entirely honest, I don’t do this. So no, I’d hope it’s not that, but…” you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. “You haven’t really made me feel like you’re in this for more than just sex.”

He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.

“I thought we were… dating?” he admitted. “I… I’m sorry if I just… assumed?”

It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldn’t even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. “Oh?”

As you didn’t say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.

“I mean…” You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. “Good. So you’ll come over for dinner?”

This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. “With just a few hours notice?”

“Yeah?” He shrugged. “My parents already know you, what does it change?”

And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?

You doubted there’d be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoon’s parents. And turned out you were right – both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoon’s mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoon’s dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didn’t scold his mother, didn’t tell her to stop.

And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after you’d eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.

Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologized.

You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. “About what?”

He shrugged. “The dinner. I didn’t expect my parents to be weird about it.”

“They weren’t,” you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasn’t particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, “I’m really happy I said yes. I missed them.”

He smiled, softly. “They missed you too.”

A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.

“The night is beautiful,” Namjoon said softly. “Makes it feel like we never left, you know?”

“Like it hasn’t been thirteen years, right?”

He nodded. “The weight of the years does feel lesser since we’ve reconnected.”

His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.

“Do you think we were just right people, wrong time?” you asked. “I’ve been thinking… it’s been so easy with you, since our date. It’s strange to believe that it would be, no?”

“The years haven’t changed us as much as you’d imagined they would,” he agreed. “Like…” he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. “BTS came into my life after you. I’d say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?”

You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the leader,” he continued, revealing something you weren’t sure he had said out loud to anyone before. “I wish I didn’t have this weight on me and… in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didn’t entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and… I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.”

His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.

“I felt lighter with you than I’d felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think you’re right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.”

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.

Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.

Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.

“Had I known that you were worried I wasn’t into you like this, I wouldn’t have had sex with you every time we hung out,” he admitted, softly.

That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.

“Hey,” you let out. “It’s okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.”

He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.

He shrugged. “They are still your parents; they’ll always worry for you.”

His words held truth, so you didn’t resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didn’t have to part with him for the night.

One day, you liked to believe you wouldn’t have to part at all.

*****

Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasn’t like he had to keep them in check in private.

You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasn’t all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasn’t one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.

To your surprise, Sooah wasn’t alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.

“Hi,” the man politely said. “I’m glad you’ve finally showed up.”

He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am Jo Jonghyuk,” he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hybe representative.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s bringing you here?

Sooah was the one to answer. “There’s been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,” she informed you carefully. “They are… all over the media this morning.”

A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. “Excuse me?”

You hadn’t noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.

And your face was far too recognizable. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t you, couldn’t pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest.

“So,” the man said. “We’re aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.” He paused, watching you carefully. “But we need to preserve their image. I’m sure you can understand?”

Sooah saved you by replying. “What is that supposed to mean for Y/n?”

“Namjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,” the man offered as an explanation.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that I’m going to be asked?”

“Keep the relationship behind closed doors.” The man motioned around you. “As an artist, I’m sure you understand how one’s image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.”

It wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. “And this needed an early morning meeting?”

You’d like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.

The man offered you a polite smile. “No. I’m here to have you sign an NDA.”

That made more sense. And still, it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be – it wasn’t like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.

In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.

Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.

You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.

“I’m fucked,” you said.

She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. “You are not. There’s no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I don’t think this will affect the gallery.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand.” You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didn’t think you were ready to gaze at. “It’s just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know it’s me.”

“Then we’ll use it as publicity.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. “You can’t be serious.”

“Your art is beautiful,” she reminded you. “You’ve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?” She paused as if to give weight to her question. “It’s just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People won’t see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.”

You didn’t want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldn’t bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.

No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.

“Deep breaths,” Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

“What if it’s not?” you asked. “What if I can’t paint anymore?”

“You’ve been painting your whole life,” she reminded you. “You won’t suddenly stop because of rumours about you.”

See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.

“Shit.”

Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didn’t say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?”

She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadn’t told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadn’t changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.

And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.

Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.

And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alright…

Almost.

*****

“Thank you,” you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.

It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.

Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people weren’t here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.

Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.

The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.

Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that – young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.

As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.

Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoon’s next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.

How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.

You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldn’t wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.

It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.

Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.

“Yes,” you answered them politely. “It’s currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if you’d like.”

The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “How expensive was the last bid?”

Even though this was supposed to be Sooah’s job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.

As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. “Just a moment.”

They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasn’t like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.

You hadn’t checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didn’t even make any sense.

“Huh,” you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. “It seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.”

That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.

The smaller woman winced. “How high?”

“1.2 billion won,” you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.

“Oh,” she said. “We can’t afford that.”

You offered them an apologetic smile. “I have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.”

The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. “Oh, that would be lovely.”

They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that it’d soon burst. Evidently, you couldn’t tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped they’d hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.

When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, it’d leave you with much more money than you ever thought you’d own.

You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didn’t expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didn’t. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you weren’t worth it.

It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.

I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, I’ll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, I’m going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out

For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.

You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Busy night,” Namjoon said as a greeting.

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re on your way?”

“I’m outside,” he admitted. “Just waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume it’s locked?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll come open for you.”

There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didn’t, he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, and cringed at yourself. You weren’t a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. “Just tired.”

“Well, I hope you’re excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.”

Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didn’t deserve it.

And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?

You highly doubted so.

Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldn’t listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.

The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasn’t a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.

You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved – could he still really just be that today?

Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.

“Hi,” you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.

“You’ve been busy?” he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.

But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldn’t quite tell if it was still beating?

“Yeah,” you answered. “I’ve been working on a piece and… didn’t see the time fly.”

He nodded understandingly. “Of course. That’s why I brought food.”

And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?

Could he be the solution?

“I think my album is going to be good,” he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. “You’re going to love it.”

You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that you’d always loved whatever he made, even back then. “Of course.”

He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.

Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?

A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?

“A lot,” you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. “Quite a lot.”

You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.

“You know you can talk to me,” he gently said.

“I know.”

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.

“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.

“What for?” you asked, genuinely wondering.

He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. “We haven’t really talked about the rumours.”

You hadn’t. Hadn’t even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, you’d hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after you’d seen articles about you in the press.

“Yeah.”

“Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked, and he turned his head towards you.

From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.

“It might be,” you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, “It is.”

“How have you been feeling?”

You weren’t sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didn’t want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didn’t want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.

“Stressed,” you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldn’t hurt him too much. “Especially now that the anonymity is gone.”

He nodded. “I was expecting that to happen.”

You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.

“I’m sorry I took that away from you,” he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.

That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.

“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him. Because it was the truth – you couldn’t be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.

“But it’s still my fault,” he added. “It’s because of me if the media has been after you.”

“It’s not because of you.” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. “It’s not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.”

You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.

“Possibly,” he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.

To touch you, you assumed.

“Possibly,” he repeated. “But it’s hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, it’s just me, both of these.”

You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words – he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.

Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.

“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I don’t believe it’s your fault. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.”

“Still sucks that it did.”

You’d never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didn’t mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity – was it going to form a black hole between you and him?

“What’s that painting you’ve been working on?” he asked.

You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that you’d never really visited in your art before.

“Something to get my mind off the edge,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.”

Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, you’d look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldn’t even think past the words.

“To escape?” he prodded.

You nodded. “Don’t you use music as an escape?”

“Yeah,” he said, but somehow his voice was flat.

It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.

“So I assume you must understand.”

He didn’t answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.

“If you need an escape from this,” he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, “maybe we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if you’d gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.

“I never said I needed an escape from us,” you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.

“Are you happy right now?” he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud – wouldn’t they just break everything in their wake?

“I’m not sure.” You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, “I’m just so anxious.”

“I’ve been making you feel anxious?”

You shook your head. “No. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. It’s so sudden.”

Namjoon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding – because of course he’d understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though he’d known this life for years now.

“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and you’d explode into a million tiny little shards. “I can take it away easily,” he claimed.

You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.

“How?”

He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. “We break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No one’s going to be after you anymore if they think I’m with someone else.”

The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.

“What?”

He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if he’d given up even before he’d gotten here. “If being with me makes you so anxious,” he started. “And by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, I’m just going to remove myself from the situation.”

Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than ‘what?’ again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.

“I think it’s better for you if we break up,” Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. “I don’t think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.”

Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.

“I don’t want us to break up,” you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.

“I can’t date someone that gets so anxious just because they’re with me,” he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.

And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.

It felt unlike Namjoon. You’d gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed who’d be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldn’t afford to put himself in a situation where he’d only get bad again.

The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew it’d be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldn’t be as troubled, knew you’d be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.

You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone who’d be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasn’t you.

“Namjoon…”

“It’s hard for me too, you know?” he added. “To watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that I’m the cause of it. Y/n…” he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. “I haven’t even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.” He shook his head. “Even before that. I’m not sure you’ve been happy since we started dating.”

“That’s not true,” you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. “I was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame that’s been throwing me off.”

You were relieved you’d finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.

But you knew you were going to let him go.

“Then we take a break,” he continued. “I don’t want to be the source of something negative in someone’s life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when it’s safe, we can try again.”

Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.

“If that is what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay with me,” you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.

He scoffed. “What I want is just impossible. This is just second best.”

“Breaking up with me is second best?” you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. “It’s that easy for you?”

He frowned, meeting your gaze again. “Who said it was easy?”

“You’re the one that claims it’s a good thing. Second best.”

At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. “This is not what I meant.”

Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldn’t watch him anymore. Couldn’t gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that they’d become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.

A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.

“Then leave, Joon,” you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. “Let’s take this break, let’s see if it’s better for both of us.”

The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didn’t fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.

But weren’t you giving up on him just as much?

That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.

Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.

*****

Thirteen years ago

You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.

You’d heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable – everyone loved Yuri.

Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her – you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.

To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? You’d kill him for it.

So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already – partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parents’ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.

Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.

Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if they’d get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.

“What’s wrong?” he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, before scoffing. “Why did I have to hear from Kim Haru that you’re hanging out with Jeon Yuri?”

His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with hanging out with her?”

Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. “Everything? She’s just a bitch.”

“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. “You told me to never call a girl a bitch and now you’re doing it?”

You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. “It’s not the same thing.”

He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.

“Don’t you fucking condescend me right now.”

“Don’t you fucking curse at me.”

“No seriously,” you continued. “I don’t want a guy who’s only after popular girls.”

“I am not,” Namjoon drawled. “I’m tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.”

As a matter of fact, you did not. “You never told me.”

“Because you never listen to me,” he spat. “You’re always just drawing your fucking drawings as if that’ll lead you anywhere in life.”

“Kim Namjoon!” you burst. “And you’re always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. You’re a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.”

He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. “You’ll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, you’ll be so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t think I will. I don’t even think I’ll remember you.”

It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. “You’re breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?”

“I’m breaking up with you because you’re a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?”

He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe there’s a reason why I didn’t want to tell you I was tutoring her.”

You scowled. “Why?”

“Because I knew you’d throw a jealousy fit. You think you’re entitled all of my time.”

“Fuck you,” you growled. “Fuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.”

“Boyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.”

Your gaze slightly widened. “What?”

“I’m not your boyfriend anymore,” he said, adding your name like it was an insult. “Get over me already.”

“Do you even love me?” you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.

But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.

“Not when you get mad at me for no valid reason.”

His words hit like a slap to the face. “I just don’t like her. Can’t you tutor someone else?”

“No.”

The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, “Then perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.”

“Because I don’t respect you?” he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.

“Clearly not.”

“You’re right then,” he continued. “I don’t respect you. I don’t love you either, apparently, so I’m done.”

“Joon…”

“No, Maehwa,” he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. “You don’t say my name like that.” He slowly shook his head, seething. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I don’t want someone that acts like a fucking child.”

“You act like a child all the time,” you interrupted, but he ignored you.

He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he said, “I’ll kill you if you follow me.”

You scoffed. “Oh please, as if you’d ever hurt me.”

“I’m serious, I’ll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.”

It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that – enormous in its drama. So you replied, “I hate you more than I hate anything in this world.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.

He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks

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pookie-mulder · 24 days ago

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October 2024 fic roundup

👶☑️ Beginnings by @television-overload

The most perfect follow-up to Of Our Own Making! Seeing m&s fall in love and go on their first date AFTER getting married and having a child together is just precious. (Especially Mulder’s “will u go out with me” note!) I love their unconventional relationship so much.

🐓🍽️ Untitled by @aloysiavirgata

This little fic is hilarious! I love Mulder getting the chance to be subtly petty towards Bill. I also love to see MSR being so domestic and settled down in the unremarkable house.

blue prints by @foxmulders

(Couldn’t find an ao3 link to this one)

Oof. This one hurts in the best way. It’s everything you want for these characters that they never got to have. It’s fluff, but it feels like angst because it’s a reminder of what the Mulder-Scully family could have been. I love it!

🛁🫧 the alchemy by @leiascully

I absolutely adore “platonic” intimacy that happens when they’re not quite together, and this fic starts out that way and ends in some incredibly satisfying RST. For such a short fic, this one sure does pack a punch! One of my favorites from fictober.

🕳️📍 You Send Me by spookynerd

The silliest premise leads to the sweetest romance! I love to see Mulder all pathetic and pining. My favorite line: “I’m in love. I think it’s terminal.”

🧜‍♀️💍 mermaids, native to montana by @foxmulders

I read this one a while ago and recently stumbled across it again. It’s the type of fluff with an undercurrent of sadness that creates such a powerful sense of longing. If you’re a fan of an unconventional marriage fic, read this one!

🛌🚂 Untitled by @myassbrokethefall

I usually steer clear of revival fics (I haven’t even been able to bring myself to watch it yet) but this one is just so darn sweet! I’d like to go back in time and show CC a copy of this fic so he writes it into the show.

🎂💌 Birthday Blues by Donnilee

I’m a fan of an author who can turn the silliest, most improbable situations seem probable, and this fic delivers. Read it if you’re a fan of tropey goodness and smut that’s as adorable as it is hot.

💇‍♀️💥 By the Dim and Flaring Lamps by @sunflowerseedsandscience

I was in the mood for a historical setting, and this Civil War AU fit the bill! One of my favorite things was its exploration of 19th-century gender roles, not to mention the unconventional romance.

🇮🇪🏰 Katherine of Ireland by Jenna Tooms

If you’re a fan of Hiraeth (as I am), you’ll love this one! It has a very similar setting and plot. The writing styles are very different, though, so it’s not like they’re carbon copies of each other or anything.

Anyway, this fic is achingly romantic, with plenty of lines that take your breath away.

(If you want the epub for easier reading, let me know!)

🏝️👻 Waldron Island by @sisterspooky1013

Like Gaslight, this fic features M&S not being able to trust their own minds. However, this time, it’s for horror reasons, not sci-fi reasons. Regardless, that concept is one of my favorites to explore in fiction, so I absolutely devoured this spooky fic! (And the ending scene? 😫🔥🥵🥹‼️)

😈🪞 Succumbing to the Truth by OnlyTheInevitable

If you liked Waldron Island, you’ll love this one! It’s a similar concept, but lies more in the casefic genre rather than straight-up horror. I loooove the way it uses the plot (a succubus demon) to force M&S closer together and finally talk about their feelings. It’s one of those fics where you can see where it’s going, which adds anticipation and makes the ending so much sweeter!

🥤🛍️ Inevitable by @thefinestmuffins

This alternate version of the car conversation in Tooms is an incredible Scully character study that’s absolutely dripping with UST. For a short fic, it truly packs a punch! One of my favorite parts is this: “On the Dana Scully list of priorities, want figures very, very low. It’s not that she doesn’t possess it in great quantity, it’s just that she fights like hell to rate it less highly than ambition, dignity, control, pragmatism, self-sufficiency, stability.”

#txf #the x files #fic #fic roundup #mine #msr #fox Mulder #dana scully

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healmydesires · 1 year ago

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forever in your eyes (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: It wasn’t like you hadn’t dated before. You had been on plenty of dates since you’ve been in Jackson, too many actually, you’ve even been in a semi serious relationship, but unfortunately, nobody had really charmed their way into your heart like they were supposed to. You’ve never been in love, always thought that falling in love wasn’t meant for you. Until one day, you meet a certain grumpy man.

genre: fluff + romance + angst + smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 15k+

tags/warnings: age gap (reader is 27, joel is in his early 50’s), takes place post s1, very minimal use of y/n, soft!joel tbh, kinda shy!reader… at least with joel, flirty joel, joel deserves to be loved, assumed unrequited love from both sides, reader described as shorter than joel, mutual pining, inexperienced/virgin!reader, unprotected sex, piv sex, loss of virginity, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, kinda pleasure!dom?, multiple orgasms, creampie, some breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink, joel is huge… literally packing oof, lots of pet names (darlin, sweetheart, angel, baby girl, etc.), reader has a sister (named emilie, so if that’s your name I’m so sorry 😭😭😭 you can imagine another name then 🥺. I didn’t want it to be y/s/n because that would be so annoying to write imo).

a/n: this is my first joel fic. this is kinda more soft tbh… might be a bit oc? I don’t know but I love it. It’s pretty self indulgent !!! I’ve always loved writing but I got a lot discouraged in the past, giving up on it. I was inspired to start writing again by some of my favourite writers @joelmama and @joelscruff. also english is like my third language so please be nice/gentle with me. do not give me unsolicited advice pls <3 anyways! I hope you enjoy it 🥺

please don’t forget to interact, reblog or let me know if you read/loved it! <3 thank you ily 🥺

AO3 ● playlist

You knew you had feelings for Joel Miller. You’ve always liked and cared for him, even when you first met.

You still remember the day you met him. Clear as day.

It was such a warm and beautiful day, like a year and a half ago. The sun was beaming down on you as you were reading a book that you found on one of your trips outside Jackson — on your front porch of your house. The blowing mid-summer wind was hitting your face, cooling, as if to apologise for the almost unbearable heat that Jackson was currently subjected to. The soft breeze was caressing your skin and hair making the heat a lot more bearable as you enjoyed the day.

You were so immersed in your book that you didn’t hear the people approaching you until there was a shadow descending over the pages of your book. Someone was standing in front of you, their body blocking the sun.

“Yes?” You said with a smile without looking up from your book.

“I would like to introduce you to some people.”

The voice belonged to Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Your eyes widened at that, and you looked up from your book and saw that there were two other people behind Tommy looking down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said before you cleared your throat, giving them a sheepish smile before standing from your lounger, shielding your eyes from the sun to get a better look at the strangers in front of you.

A teenager gave you a polite smile as she introduced herself. As you gave her your name in return you finally noticed the man next to her, gave you a curt nod when you locked eyes with him. He had a broad build, dark eyes and brown peppered hair. You assumed he was around the age of fifty and you couldn’t help but find him incredibly handsome.

“This is Ellie and my brother,” Tommy smiled as he gestured to both people next to him. “They’re your new neighbours.”

You knew Tommy had an older brother but you didn't know what you had been expecting. Maybe someone less handsome. As you continued to take him in you realised you were staring. You felt your body becoming more warm as you felt him stare back at you.

“How’s it going? I’m Y/N.” You gave him a small smile as you stepped forward to extend a hand out to the man.

"Hello," he repeated your name with a deep southern accent, which did nothing to calm your racing heart. You don’t think you’ve ever heard a voice that attractive in your entire life and it made heat flood to your cheeks. His hard expression melted into a more soft one as he took your hand in his. "I’m Joel, how’s your bench going?”

Your eyes widened at his words, “My bench? How did you—”

“We saw you through the living room window earlier this morning or more like Joel did.” Ellie, the teenager said with a huge grin on her face.

“Ellie.” He warned under his breath. His ears turned red and the two of them began to argue in hushed whispers, but your mind was elsewhere as panic began to set in.

Oh my god. He noticed me?

You grew embarrassed as you realised that he saw you struggle to fix that old bench on your porch. You’re painfully aware of how clumsy you are and that you’re not handy at all but you don’t like to ask other people for help. It was not because of your pride or any of that sort, you’d hate to burden someone else with your issues, so you mostly keep trying to fix things yourself.

"Oh yeah..." You said, looking back towards the bench that has been the bane of your existence these past few days. Your words effectively pulled Joel and Ellie out of their current argument. "It's a bit broken and needs some fixing."

Joel just looked at you for a moment before speaking up again. “You know, if you want, I could come check it out?”

You felt your cheeks heat up again at his offer and you glanced over at Tommy. “Uhm…”

“We both used to be contractors back in the day, so if you ever need anything repaired or something built, we are your people. Well… Joel specifically.” Tommy laughed.

“Oh, that’s cool. I think I’m good for now though, I don’t need any help but thanks for offering.” You declined politely with a small smile. You knew you could use their or his help with repairing the bench, but you didn’t want to burden anyone. And the older brother was already making you feel flustered, you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself when you just met.

“Alright, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” He gave you a small but genuine smile before the three of them walked away from you.

As they walked away, you released a breath you didn't realise you were holding. The hammering of your heart only registering as the distance grew between you. You felt a bit of disappointment once they were gone, a sense of longing setting in your heart as you thought about the tall and older man that you know you’ll grow to care for.

—

“God damn it. Work with me please.” You grumbled as you tried to fix one of the loose wooden planks of the bench. Sweat was dripping down your forehead as you concentrated on your task at hand. You were on the floor, crouched underneath the bench you were so desperately trying to repair. You’ve been trying to put it off for a couple of weeks now but you knew you couldn’t keep doing that. You knew you should ask someone for help but you didn’t want to give up just yet. Curse words wouldn’t stop leaving your mouth as you struggled. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t take you as a girl that could curse like a sailor.” A low and deep but still soft voice resounds behind you.

“Ah shit!” you gasped as you heard the voice behind you. You’d smacked your head on the edge of the bench when you’d startled at the sudden intrusion. You recognised that voice. Joel Miller. The man that’s been consuming your thoughts for weeks now. You hissed as you rubbed at the already sore spot and landed on your butt as you looked up at him.

The bemused expression morphed into one of concern as he crouched down to your level. “Are you okay?” He replaced your hand with his own, making sure there was no visible injury.

His touch made your body turn hot as he continued to study you.

“Yeah I-I’m fine. Although, I do think it will be a nice bump later.” You chuckled. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, it’s not good for my heart.”

“And your head,” he said as a grin replaced the one of concern. You were glad to be sitting because that smile has been making you weak in the knees lately. Ever since you’ve been introduced you’ve been talking and hanging out here and there, finding out that the man can smile sometimes. You’re not entirely sure why he felt so at ease around you but you were truly grateful that he was spending time with you. (It might be for the fact that Ellie grew fond of you and loved to ask you a million questions whenever she was around.) He had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen and it lit up his whole face, you truly wish he would smile more. Subconsciously you started biting your lip as you admired him.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He questioned with a chuckle as he looked at the state of the bench next to you.

Your face grew warm as you moved to focus your gaze on your hands. “I’m fine.” You whisper softly as you continue to look at your hands in your lap.

You heard him sigh before he took your chin gently in his hand to tilt your head back, making you look into his eyes.

“You know it’s okay to ask for help sometimes?” He said as he studied you intently. It was hard to maintain his eye contact, your face heating up more under his intense gaze and because of the close proximity of both of your faces.

His brown eyes stared into yours and you couldn’t help but find them the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever looked at. Your eyes flitted all over his face, not being able to stay in one place. You couldn’t get over how handsome he was. His head tilted to the side and he gave you a questionable look. You felt embarrassed as you realised you hadn’t replied to him yet.

“Sorry,” you bit your lip nervously as warmth spread even more to your cheeks. Your eyes moved away from his face to a spot behind him as you stared into the distance. “I just don’t want to burden you.” Your voice sounded so small and squeaky that you cringed internally. Embarrassed, you quickly drop your gaze to your lap.

“Oh, Darlin’,” he said gently, his expression turning more soft. “Sweetheart, you could never be a burden.”

“I’m sorry,” you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to keep yourself from getting emotional. “I didn’t mean to… I just— I just always feel like it’s best I do everything myself all the time because I don’t want to annoy anyone with my problems.”

You’ve always been someone to wear your heart on your sleeve. You’re a very sensitive person and very in tune with your emotions most of the time. People saw you as a very caring and helpful person but when it came to your own things you mostly tended to yourself. You’re aware that most people aren’t like you, at least not anymore ever since the outbreak happened, but you didn’t care. There’s strength in sensitivity.

“You could never annoy me,” Joel frowned. “especially not when it comes to you struggling to do something on your own.”

You weren’t used to people caring for you the way you cared for others. So when Joel reassured you or took the time to hang out with you, you couldn’t help but feel appreciated.

His reassuring words gradually eased your anxiety. You let out a long sigh before looking up at him again. “O-okay, I-I think… I might need your help.” You stutter, hoping he didn’t catch it but he smiled at you warmly instead.

Shit, he’s so pretty. Come on, forget it. He could never have feelings for you.

“Good. Because I’d love to help.” He winked at you with a crooked smile.

Warmth flooded your body as you stared at him, you couldn’t help but feel flustered around him. You’re certain that your heart is running two hundred miles per hour, because it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest.

It’s just a silly crush. You told yourself.

—

Turns out, Joel Miller, your hot new neighbour, could be very handy.

He was able to fix the bench you've been fighting with for weeks in less than an hour. You were truly impressed.

As he brought back the supplies he used to repair the bench back inside to your supply closet, you couldn’t help but want him to stay a little longer. Besides, you wanted to thank him for being so helpful. You’re relieved and so grateful that the ‘demon bench’, as you had called it, was now fixed

“Thank you for helping me out, Joel. It means a lot to me.” You said as you smiled up at him as you both walked towards your front door.

“Oh darlin’ it’s no problem. I loved helping you.” He said with a grin. He moved closer, making your breath hitch which made him smile even more. “You can ask me anything. Whenever you need.” He winked and you felt your insides melt at his words and his actions.

“I-I want to be able to thank you. Give something in return for your help.” You smiled shyly at him.

“You don’t have to do anything for me sweet—”

“Please, let me make you dinner. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.” You cut him off as you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Ellie is welcome too!” You added nervously when he took a bit longer to reply.

He snorts softly at your words before clearing his throat. “Ellie isn't in tonight,” he says as he avoids your gaze for a few seconds “she’s at this girl’s place she hangs out with a lot. So it’s just me.”

“Oh that’s okay! I’m sure she can join us next time.” You flashed him a bright smile. “But, I’d love to make dinner for you tonight… if that’s okay?” You asked with pleading eyes.

He chuckled fondly at your expression as he shook his head with amusement. “Of course. I’d love that.”

You felt like you were going to burst out of excitement. Internally you’re screaming, kicking with your legs like a schoolgirl thinking about her crush. You really loved spending time with the man.

Joel followed you back inside as you quickly disappeared down the hall and into the dining room that’s connected to your kitchen. You saw him admire the walls of your dining room from your peripheral view as you’re rummaging in one of the cupboards of your kitchen for a cutting board. Most of the paintings were either more abstract gradient paintings or heavily inspired by the Impressionism art movement.

“You have lots of paintings. They are very pretty.”

“Thank you. Some of them are made by me or my sister.” You smiled genuinely as you made your way back to him.

“Really?” He asked curiously.

Your smile turned timid as you looked up at him, Joel's inquisitive look making you even more shy.

“Yeah… we both love art. Especially making our own sometimes.” You cleared your throat with another bashful smile, before looking down at your shoes.

“Is your sister…?”

“Is she alive? Yes” you finished his question. “She lives here in Jackson with her boyfriend actually.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I’m truly grateful to have her in my life.” You told him. “She’s my best friend.”

“That’s beautiful” he nods at you as a small smile graces his features. You can’t help but feel yourself get more warm at his soft expressions. He’s so beautiful. “How did you two find your way to Jackson?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this but, originally my sister and I weren't from here… the USA I mean.” You told him.

Joel’s eyes widened at your words. You giggled at his expression.

“We are originally from Europe, I was still very young when the outbreak happened. I was around? Seven years old. We were in San Francisco when it happened and my sister and I haven’t really moved from that place for a long time ever since everything went down.” You said as you walked back to the kitchen.

“Christ. That’s very young.” He said, he looked shocked as you told him as much as you wanted him to know.

“Yeah but Emilie was four when it happened.” You said as you bit your lip.

“It must be hard being trapped in a foreign country. Especially when you’re a child.”

“Yeah… My parents eventually died when I turned eighteen. So it was just Emilie and I for a long time. One day a couple of years ago she went outside the San Francisco QZ and I hadn’t heard from her for a long while. I just… I had to look for her, she’s my sister, she means everything to me. I would literally travel through this whole country just to find her. I always felt like I needed to protect her. I’ve always been very overprotective of her, just like I know she is with me.” You chuckled as you shook your head with amusement at your previous words.

“Overprotective huh?” He said as he flashed you a grin as he came to lean against a wall close to you.

“Yeah,” you giggled. “I am the big sister but sometimes it does feel like she’s more overprotective than I am.”

“Your sister seems very nice. I do understand her being overprotective though.” He smiled as he leaned closer to you.

“Oh really?” You bit your lip as you continued to prepare everything for dinner.

“Yeah, I mean you’re a precious little thing so I do understand her overprotectiveness.” He muttered.

Heat rose up in your face at his words. You couldn’t look up at him, feeling too flustered to look him in the eye. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you kept repeating his words in your head. He thought you were precious.

Was that flirting? No. He would never flirt with you.

“Y-you think so?” You question shyly, still not meeting his gaze.

“Uhuhm” He hummed softly, “I don’t only think that, it is so. You’re very precious.”

“O-oh.” You were at loss for words.

Joel chuckled, probably because of your flustered state, before he noticed you struggled with the ingredients. “Let me help you sweetheart.”

“No, it’s okay.” You said. But as most people knew, Joel was a stubborn man.

“Darlin,” he looked at you pointedly, letting you know that you wouldn’t be able to stop him from giving you a hand.

“I’m making dinner for you, to thank you. You shouldn’t be helping me.” You huffed as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. You’re aware you probably look like a child but you can’t help it. Dinner was supposed to be made by you, and only you.

“Oh angel, being in your presence is rewarding enough for me.” He says as he leans closer to your ear.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words. The sound of his deep voice close to your ear, and the feeling of his breath against your skin, made you fight the urge to shiver.

Joel smiled playfully, eyes looked down and locked with yours for a couple of seconds. The close proximity made your skin set on fire. He could lean down a bit more and then his lips would be on yours. You slowly pulled back, clearing your throat while you did.

“A-a-anyways.” You stuttered. You hated stuttering, you never really stuttered but somehow this man could turn you into a flustered, stuttering mess. His smile widened at your state which made you want to run and hide. You decided to change the subject. “I had to go through some states to find her and eventually I found her. Then we travelled together through Wyoming and then some people from Jackson surrounded us and that’s how we got here. That was almost a year ago.”

“So… You are pretty new here?”

“Yep.” You said as you smiled at him.

It was silent for a moment as both of you were preparing everything for dinner. Until your eyes widened at the realisation that you hadn’t offered him anything to drink yet.

“Oh shit, sorry. I can’t believe that I haven’t offered you something to drink yet.” You said as you abandoned your current task, running towards another supply closet, looking for something good for the both of you. “Give me a second.”

You could hear Joel chuckle, knowing he was probably looking at you with an amused expression on his face. You were looking for a specific bottle of red wine, your favourite, the ones you always keep for special occasions. Once you found it you couldn’t help but squeal excitedly. “Aha! Here it is!” You smiled triumphantly as you held it in your hands.

You were grinning widely as you came back into the kitchen. “I’ve got some red wine, I hope that’s okay.” You said as you placed down the bottle on the kitchen counter.

“More than okay.” Joel smiled.

You beamed up at him and opened one of the cabinets, you stood on the tip of your toes as you struggled to reach for some wine glasses.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself. “Why did I put those glasses so high and so far in the back?”

“Let me,” he chuckled softly as he stepped behind you, his body pressing softly against yours. Your breath hitched at the action and warmth spread all over your body. You mentally cursed yourself as you felt a heat pool between your legs. Different kinds of scenarios started going through your head as you felt his body pressed against yours. You wished his arms were wrapped around you as he stood behind you. But one of his arms extended over yours as he reached for two glasses easily. “Here they are.” He whispered as he leant down to whisper close to your ear.

You truly felt as if you caught a fever. He’s so close and so big. As his chest brushed against your back you felt as if your brain short circuited for a second. He was so broad and tall while you were so much smaller than him, he could quite literally swallow you whole with his frame.

You felt his body slowly retreat from yours, giving you the possibility to collect your thoughts again.

“Show off,” you grumbled teasingly, warmth still filling your chest and face.

Joel snorted, shaking his head amused. “You’re just tiny.”

You gasped dramatically, turned around and feigned offence at his words. “Am not!”

“Sure you aren’t.” He teased, a grin forming on his face.

You giggled at that, “you’re just awfully tall.”

“Right.” He nodded along to your words, tried to look as serious as he could, he tried to stifle a grin and you could see right through him.

“I am right.” You pouted.

“So am I.” He retorted playfully, a loud laugh left his lips as you continued to pout, before he took a step closer to you.

Your cheeks warmed, but you tried to hide your embarrassment by crossing your arms and sticking your chin up in the air. Huffing you turned around, “get back to work Mr. Miller.”

“Yes ma’am” he said in mock seriousness as he went back to making dinner with you.

“You’re so silly,” you giggled as you teasingly bumped your shoulder against his arm. You went to open the bottle of wine before pouring some of the liquid in both glasses. Once the glasses were filled you held a glass out to him.

“Only with you darlin’,” he gave you a wink before he took the glass from your hand. Flushed, you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped in your chest when his fingers brushed against yours.

This man is going to be the death of me.

—

Dinner was very nice. There was lots of banter, lots of words exchanged from Joel that felt awfully like flirting but still you tried to push those thoughts away. He wouldn’t flirt with you. You’re pretty certain of it. The tension sometimes was killing you though. You think it was sexual tension but then again that would be impossible because he wasn’t flirting with you.

But you also noticed that the more you hung out with Joel the more relaxed he was around you. You loved that for him. Underneath all that rough exterior he has so much depth to him. He’s very caring, protective, helpful, funny, and so intelligent. He’s so sweet to you too, you didn’t know why. But all you knew is that you care for him so much. You felt comfortable around him too, safe. You couldn’t help but associate him with warmth, safety. Home. He felt like home to you.

Empty plates were still on the table and for a while you were enjoying the comfortable silence between you two. Eventually you broke that silence.

“The wine is so good.” You whispered as you looked at your wine glass then brought your gaze softly to the man sitting across from you. He seemed like he was lost in his thoughts, staring off in the distance as he looked through the window outside towards your garden.

He brought his gaze back to you as he heard your voice, he cocked his head to the side. “Hmmm what did you say sweetheart?”

“It’s good right?” You ask as you motion with your head to the drink in your hand.

“You’re not wrong. It’s very good.” He nods with a soft smile.

“It’s my favourite,” you flashed him a grin before you took a generous sip of your wine, the liquid burning down your throat.

“Oh really?” He questioned with a curious smile.

“Yeah, I keep them for special occasions.” You said as you bit your lip, feeling bashful.

“Is that so?” Joel’s smile turned into a full smirk as he looked straight into your eyes. “I am assuming this is a special occasion then?”

You hummed your agreement, shrugging your shoulders with faux nonchalance as you continued to bite your lip. Warmth was overwhelming you. Not only because of the alcohol you consumed but that man always made you heat up.

“I’ll consider that as a compliment.” He said as he leaned back in his chair.

Excitement bubbled inside you. Feeling bold, you winked at him. “As you should.”

He was visibly surprised, Joel didn't expect you to finally flirt back. You giggled at his reaction, pleased to see that you could surprise him.

You stood up from your seat with a smile as you took the empty plates from the table, bringing them to the sink.

As you’re about to turn the faucet on you heard him stand up from his chair. He muttered your name, his voice coming out a lot deeper than usual. Fighting back a shiver you slowly turned around to look at him. Your eyes were wide with curiosity and your heart was pounding so hard you could barely hear over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. He looked at you, a desperate expression on his face.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice hoarse as his dark eyes continued to hold your gaze. For the first time of the night you couldn’t fight back the shiver from going down your spine. Heat flooded your body, your cheeks burning, the warmest you’ve ever felt them.

Joel must have noticed the way your body was reacting to his voice, as he dragged a low shuddering breath at the sight of you.

“Joel?” Your breath turned heavier as you waited for him to say or do something. Your wide pleading eyes stared into his hungry eyes. He continued to stand there just looking at you, his chest moved quicker as he breathed more heavily. Your heart pounded so fast and hard that you were worried that he could hear it from across the room.

Your eyebrows pulled together as you stared at him, your eyes shining with curiosity. You waited with bated breath for Joel to say what he was meant to tell you. He looked at you desperately before he moved from his spot, striding towards you but before he could reach you, someone barged through the door of your home with a loud bang.

“Hey! I knew I’d find you here.” Ellie yelled without looking at both of you. Once her eyes settled on both Joel and you her mouth fell open. “What’s happening?”

You were breathing heavily as you looked at Joel. Eventually you brought your gaze to the teen. “N-nothing, Ellie bean.” You stuttered out quickly, moving away from the kitchen towards the younger girl. “We just had dinner.”

Her eyes widened, “without me?”

Your face flushed with embarrassment before you turned around to look at Joel. “I thought she was at—”

“I’m assuming you told her I wasn’t home tonight, right?” Ellie cut you off, raising one of her eyebrows as she looked at him.

Wait what? Did he want to be alone with me?

Joel swallowed and then avoided both Ellie and your gazes. “Alright.” She snorted.

“I think it's better if we go home.” Joel finally spoke up, before walking towards Ellie. You feel yourself deflate at his words and you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“O-okay.” You whispered, looking down as you entwined both of your hands nervously.

Ellie looked at you with sympathy before glaring up at Joel. “You’re so stupid.” She grumbled under her breath as she gave him a shove as she made her way to the front door.

“Ellie,” he warned her.

“You are.” She sneered.

Joel sighed deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He dropped his hand before looking at you. “Thank you for dinner,” he said with a small but grateful smile.

“Thank you for fixing my bench on the front porch,” you gave him a faint smile. “I enjoyed spending time with you.” You said as you looked away timidly.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me.”

You bit your lip as you avoided his gaze. He said your name softly before he held your chin gently with one of his hands, tilting your head towards his face which made your eyes lock with his own.

“I always enjoy spending time with you.” Warmth rose to your face at his words. He gave you a warm smile before releasing your chin.

You walked with him towards your front door, leaning against it as you tried to say your goodbyes to each other.

“I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too.” You said as you bit your lip.

“Goodnight darlin’.” He said with a barely noticeable smile before he walked out your door.

Your eyes met Ellie’s waving at you from in front of your porch. You return the action with a small wave.

“Goodnight.” You whispered before you closed the door behind them. You rested your back against the door, exhaling a long breath you realised you didn’t know you were holding in.

—

You were in too deep.

As months went by, you were more and more aware of how strong your feelings were beginning to grow for Joel. So strong that they were starting to terrify you. Not because you didn’t want to have these feelings for him, no that was certainly not it. You just never experienced feelings this strong for someone before.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t dated before. You had been on plenty of dates since you’ve been in Jackson, too many actually, you’ve even been in a semi serious relationship, but unfortunately, nobody had really charmed their way into your heart like they were supposed to.

You’ve never been touched intimately before, never had sex either. You knew how inexperienced you were but so far, you just hadn’t found someone to be worthy of your time.

You’ve never fallen in love with anyone before. And these new feelings were truly scaring you. For so long you were so certain that you’d never fall in love with someone. That falling in love wasn’t meant for you. That those feelings would never exist for you. The apocalypse hadn’t made things easier either so it wasn’t like falling in love was an option for a long time. But now that you’re relatively more safe, it was a possibility.

It was so much easier when it was just a crush, or an infatuation, despite the fact that you knew that crushes usually wouldn’t make your heart swell so big or your lungs feel so tight when you think of them or see them. But now, it’s a lot harder to pretend that it’s not more than that.

You always dreamed of the day you’d finally fall in love but now that those feelings were here they made you feel like you wanted to run and hide.

You’re not sure you’d be ready to confess those feelings to him any time soon. You were quite certain that they would be one sided, so you’d prefer to keep those to yourself. Because why would someone like him ever see you the way you see him, the way you feel for him. You were a lot younger than him, around twenty years or so. You’re twenty seven. So it seemed impossible for you that he could regard you in the same way you did.

So you decided to do just that, keep them a secret. And you were completely fine with that, with your feelings remaining completely unknown to anyone but yourself.

Or so you thought.

—

On a beautiful warm spring day, you decided you were going to indulge in your favourite hobby. Drawing.

You’ve always loved art, specifically, you loved sketching. If it wasn’t for the fact that the world ended, you’d like to think you would’ve studied art or tried to become an artist.

You were pretty good at it actually, not to sound too full of yourself. But with the way things were, your skills weren’t at their full potential. And besides you didn’t like to tell most people, keeping it a secret because you were always too shy or embarrassed to show people your talents. So you sketched as much as you could in your free time.

You loved to draw all sorts of things, nature, still life, animals and sometimes, people. But on top of your innocent drawings you also had a specific secret sketchbook that you only drew in when you were certain you were alone.

This sketchbook was dedicated entirely to indulging in your massive crush on Joel Miller. (Okay, crush is an understatement.) It was usually difficult to draw a specific person when they weren’t standing right in front of you, but you had seen his face so many times that it was nearly photographically imprinted in your mind. You would often summon his face up whenever you were alone. As many times as you could. Most of these were just his face, the sketchbook was definitely filled with several of him smiling. Some were just details of, for example, his hands or his eyes. Or even his nose or lips.

Everything about him made you feel warm inside. You would always be a flustered mess around him and it would even make you heat up when you’d draw him. Sometimes you’d have to take breaks from drawing him because you’d start getting too hot from thinking about him.

You often felt like you were doing something bad or wrong, like you were some sort of stalker when all you did was admire him.

It was a specific drawing you were currently working on, after checking and double-checking that you were truly alone. It was a beautiful day and you had the day off, so you figured what better way to spend it then by sitting on your front porch all day while enjoying the weather and sketching out what you’d seen the man do during your shared patrol the day before.

The drawing was him holding his gun as he concentrated on a target in front of him. You were so focused on sketching him as well as you could, wanting to capture every feature of him in the best way possible. You recalled his intense expression, the way his jaw clenched while he was so focused yesterday. His dark brown eyes and his handsome side profile—

“What are you drawing?”

You practically jumped and yelled as you heard the voice close to you. Hurriedly you tried to close the sketchbook as you addressed the person standing close to you. “Ellie! You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m just done with school and thought I’d drop by. I kinda wanted to spend some time with you.” She smiled at you as she was leaning against the wall. The soft expression slowly turned into a more mischievous smile as she cocked her head to the side to study you. “You okay there, Y/N?”

You swallowed nervously before giving her your best smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well… you’re looking pretty nervous or flustered. Embarrassed even.” She said as she smirked deviously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine.” You said as you tried to keep your composure.

You could never tell Ellie about the fact that you’re drawing Joel. He’s practically her father figure. Besides, you were quite certain it would make the whole situation awkward.

“You sure?” She asked as she leaned closer to you. “Could it have something to do with… what you’re drawing?”

“I— no. I mean no.”

“Hmmm.” Ellie hummed as she looked at you suspiciously.

Before you could react, Ellie snatched the sketchbook out of your hands at lightning speed.

Fuck. fuck. FUCK. Please no.

“Ellie—”

You sprang to your feet and quickly tried to grab the book back from her, but Ellie pulled it just out of reach at the last second with a huge teasing smirk on her face. Your face burned with shame.

“It’s nothing Ellie, please give it back!” You couldn’t hide the terrified desperation in your voice.

“You sure it’s nothing?” She said as she hid the sketchbook behind her back.

“Yes!” Apprehension fills your bones at her actions.

“Ah, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind letting me take a peek at what’s inside right?” Ellie grinned dangerously as she moved the book in front of her.

“Please give it back.” Tears started to well up in your eyes as you pleaded for her to give it back.

Shit. It’s over.

As she opened the book on a random page, a gasp left her mouth. “Oh my god?!”

“Ellie, I’m—”

“You’re drawing Joel?” She whispered with wide eyes as she flipped through the pages.

You’ve never felt your face warm up this hot in your entire life. “No?” You said nervously but it came out more as a question.

Ellie said your name softly as she looked at you with a huge smile. “You have a crush on Joel?”

“I— I-I’m— uhm I don’t know, I just—” you stuttered as you tried to retrieve the sketchbook. Ellie pulled back which made you want to scream internally.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” Her face softened as she saw you look utterly terrified. “If anything, I’m very happy.”

“What?” You asked as you blinked your tears away.

“How could I be mad at you? I’ve always wanted Joel to be happy. He deserves that, even if he often doesn’t think he deserves that himself.” She smiled at you before looking back at some of the drawings inside the book. “They’re very beautiful by the way. I love drawing too.” She stepped closer to you as she went to put the book back in your hands. “Besides,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “he has a crush on you too.”

“Oh.”

Warmth flooded your body as you listened to her. You quickly felt overwhelmed by her words and everything that happened, you needed to sit down to process it better. You went to sit down with the book in your lap, looking down at it as you were at loss for words. It was very difficult for you to wrap your head around what she said. Joel having feelings for you? You couldn’t allow yourself to believe it. As you let her words sink in, she took a place next to you, placing a hand on your arm and giving it a small reassuring squeeze. Ellie gave you enough time to collect your thoughts and you were truly grateful for that.

You heaved out a long sigh. “I don’t have a crush.” You finally spoke up but not meeting her gaze just yet.

“What? But—”

“Saying it’s a crush is an understatement.” Your voice trembled as you finally looked at her. “I’ve never felt like this in my entire life, so it’s hard for me to deal with what I’m feeling.”

“Oh.” She said as her eyes widened. “You’re… In love?”

“I am pretty sure I am, yes.” You nodded with a small smile.

“Okay. Well he has feelings for—”

“Ellie, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have feelings for me.” You interrupted her.

“Oh my god,” she groaned as she hid her face in her hands, mumbling, “you’re both so oblivious.”

“What?”

“You’re both so stupid. So oblivious.” She groaned once again as she threw her hands in the air. “You both think that the feelings are one sided.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off as you let yourself lean back on the bench. You’re quite certain that you’re the only one being so consumed by these emotions. You’ve pretty much made your mind up about the fact that it’s impossible for him to return any of those feelings that you have for him.

“The atmosphere when I came in the last time both of you had dinner, just the two of you, certainly didn’t look like it was one sided.”

“Barged in.” You corrected her teasingly as you bumped your shoulder into hers.

“Okay, whatever. My point still stands.”

“Ellie, that was months ago…” you sighed deeply and shook your head at her words.

“Stop. Why do you do this?” She asked exasperated.

“Wh—”

“Why do you believe that he wouldn’t have feelings for you too?” Ellie questioned as she leaned closer to you. “Like, you’re so pretty and have such a lovely personality.”

“I-I I don’t know. I just find it hard to believe. Besides,” you shrugged with a frown “I find it very hard to deal with my own emotions because I’ve never been in love before so this is so new to me.”

Her eyes softened as she listened to you. Slowly, she brought her hand to squeeze your arm reassuringly. “I can understand that. But love is a beautiful thing.”

“True…” you whispered.

“I can understand being scared, but Y/N you’re so worthy of love. Just like Joel is. I am convinced both of you are meant for each other.” She said with a hopeful expression.

“Ellie—”

“I’m serious. Just, please think about it for a while. You both deserve more than this secret pining for each other.” She grumbled at the last sentence.

“Okay I will. Can we please talk about something else now?”

“Sure.” She shrugged with a smile.

“Thank you, Ellie bean.” You said gratefully.

It’s quiet between you two, as you two sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the beautiful weather and each other’s company.

“So… drawing huh?” She grinned.

—

As Ellie and you were talking about your shared love for drawing you heard someone approaching the both of you. Ellie is the first one to look up and she greets the person with a wide smile.

“Hi Emilie!” Ellie beamed as your sister stepped foot on your front porch.

“Oh, here are my favourite girls!” She said with the biggest grin on her face. Emilie brought her hand up to high-five Ellie. “Hey ravioli.” She said as the youngest girl hit her hand.

Ellie scoffed and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Jeez, just because I love ravioli doesn’t mean you have to call me that. Can’t a girl love food in peace.”

Your sister doesn’t reply to the teen and averted her attention to you, greeting you too. Emilie gestures for Ellie to scooch over, before she plops down on the bench between both of you. “So what are you guys talking about?”

“Hey! That bench was recently repaired! There’s no need for you to let yourself fall on the seat like that.” You groan at your sister's silly behaviour.

“Recently? That was months ago.” Ellie counters with a playful smile.

“Ah yes, the bench that the love of your life repaired.” Emilie said with a dreamy expression.

You gasped at her words, feeling your cheeks heat up instantly. You gave her a light shove, “Emilie!”

“What?” Your sister shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s true.”

“Love of your life?” Ellie beams.

You sighed dramatically before leaning against the back of the bench. “Look at what you just did.” You gestured towards Ellie.

“Oh quit the theatrics.” Your sister rolled her eyes teasingly. “Everyone knows you have feelings for Joel except for that man himself.”

Your eyes widened as her words registered in your mind. “Everyone?” You squeaked.

“Yes, just like everyone knows that man is pining over you except for you!” Your sister said exasperated.

You shook your head frantically. “You’re ly—”

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Ellie groaned. “Wake up.”

“Yeah, lovely sister of mine,” Emilie placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a serious look, “respectfully wake the fuck up.”

“Disrespectfully, Emilie, shut up.” You said to your sister, shrugging her hand off you. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, pouting as you still leaned against the bench.

“Why are you pouting? This is a good thing.” Ellie huffed.

“Yeah, this is a good thing. Why don’t you want to allow good things into your life?” Emilie asked, looking at you seriously.

Silence fell for some moments, before you whispered, “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“Yes, you do!” Both Ellie and your sister said simultaneously.

You bit your lip as you looked at them silently. You knew deep down that you deserved to love and be loved in return but it was so hard for you to accept that someone could genuinely have feelings for you. It wouldn’t make any sense, you were always used to people that were attracted to you to expect something from you that you weren’t ready to do or they wouldn’t genuinely care about who you are as a person. You knew Joel was different, he showed you enough through the past year. But somehow your mind tried to tell you otherwise.

“This is driving me insane,” Ellie sighed, shaking her head.

“Ellie,” your sister said pointedly at the younger girl before turning back to look back at you. “Y/N… you are so worthy of love. I know you’ve never experienced this type of emotion or feeling ever before, but you deserve to feel safe with someone and to love someone deeply and for them to love you just as fiercely. I know you keep thinking because of past relationships, friendships or situationships that people aren’t truly interested in you or that people don’t genuinely care for you. But, those people do exist. Ellie cares for you, I do, and I am completely certain that Joel cares for you too. You deserve to feel loved, cared for and to be happy.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at your sister’s words. You felt truly overwhelmed by everything she told you. Deep down you knew she was right, you were trying to believe her words but you knew it might take a bit of time.

“Thank you.” You whispered, tears flowing down your cheeks as you hugged her side. “You don’t know how much that means to me. It might take some time for me to truly believe everything you said but I want to try.”

Both girls went to envelop you in a warm hug, squeezing your body tight. You felt your body relax in their embrace.

“I love you.” Ellie whispered, at her words you hugged her body tighter.

“I love you too, Ellie bean.” You smiled, tears still in your eyes as you leaned your head against the crown of her head.

And for the first time in a long time you felt like your heart could breathe again.

—

A month passed and you still hadn’t confessed your feelings to the man that’s been consuming your very brain for a year. You still hung out whenever you could, but telling Joel how you felt about him still terrified you. But as time passed, you allowed yourself to believe the words your sister and Ellie told you. It was very freeing.

One thing that didn’t change though was your stubbornness. You are certain you will always hate asking people for help. Like for example, the fact that your shower head was acting up so much you couldn’t take proper showers which made you have to use Emilie’s shower at her place sometimes. Until the shower head actually broke.

That’s why a few days later, you were standing in front of Joel’s door, contemplating if you should really ask him for his help. You bit your lip as you thought about it. Sighing, you told yourself that you should just do it. As you were about to knock, the door opened.

Your eyes widened as you came face to face with Joel. Your cheeks heat up as you lock eyes with him. You know you shouldn't be flustered right now because he is the only one who can help you. And he did tell you that you could always come to him if you needed his help. Or for anything really. But somehow, you still couldn’t help but feel shy around him.

“Sweetheart?” Joel looked at you worriedly.

“H-hi?” You smiled sheepishly. “Am I coming at a bad time?”

“No, ‘course not.” He shook his head slightly, a soft smile curled upon his lips. “Everything alright?”

“I am alright, it’s just,” you trailed off as you looked away shyly. “I think I might need your help.”

Joel closed the door behind him as he kept his gaze on you. He motioned for you to show the way. “Let’s go.”

You giggled as you shook your head light heartedly. “You don’t even know what I need your help for.”

“That’s where you're wrong darlin’. A little birdie told me your shower head is broken.” Joel’s mouth twitched in mild amusement as you just gaped at him.

Oh my god… Emilie.

Your face burned once again. You couldn’t believe that your sister would tell the person you’re desperately in love with about this. You felt embarrassed, knowing that he knew about you struggling. As if he could read your thoughts, “I only know since yesterday, but I wanted you to come to me when you were ready.” He said as he looked at you, a gentle smile on his lips.

“O-okay.” You said, groaning internally at your stuttering. “Anyways, yes. I need your help with fixing my shower. I hope that’s okay?” You asked hesitatingly.

“‘Course it is. Show the way, pretty girl.” He winked, beckoning for you to move along.

He thinks I’m pretty?

—

Joel was standing in your shower as he tried to fix the shower head. He smiled as he threw you a thumbs up.

“Ah, here we go. This should work now—” Joel’s smile faltered as water started unexpectedly spraying out of the shower head. Surprised, it slipped out of his hands, dropping to the floor, the spray pointing up at him, which drenched Joel quickly.

Your eyes widened as you took Joel in. His white shirt and jeans are both drenched and sticking to his body. You could see the outline of everything. Your body turned flush with heat as you continued to stare at him. You couldn’t help but find him so hot, with his shirt clinging to his body. He grumbled as he looked down at the state of his clothes. Eventually you moved into action, “O-oh let me get you a towel!” you blurted out. You quickly made your way to one of your closets in your bedroom, rummaging for some spare towels.

“Y/N stop being such a creep.” You grumbled to yourself, embarrassed that you were staring at him so unabashedly. You’re worried that he might think you’re creepy, staring at him like he was the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. Well, actually, he was the sexiest man to you. But you didn’t want him to think of you as some sort of weirdo. That’s the last thing you want, for him to think you’re creepy. As you found the towels you were still in such a deep inner monologue while you walked back into the bathroom.

“I found the towels—” you gasp, accidentally dropping the towels on the floor as you took Joel in.

The man had taken off his shirt, most likely because he didn’t like the feel of the fabric clinging to his body. He took your breath away. As you once again stared at him you couldn’t help but let your wide eyes wander all over his chest. He was broad, he wasn’t really muscular but he had a solid build. He was strong and large, and soft in the right places. There were some scars littered over his skin here and there, as a result of the years of fighting to try and stay alive. Some hair was scattered over his body, your eyes trailing along his happy trail, eventually disappearing underneath his jeans. You felt yourself ache between your legs as your eyes continued to roam over his form, studying him with so much intensity. You were still admiring him when he spoke up.

“I’m not really nice to look at.” He mumbled.

Your heart ached at his self deprecated words. You couldn’t believe what he said. How could he think of himself so lowly? You thought he was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “W-what?” You said as you shook your head frantically.

“I’m not—”

“Joel Miller, you better stop bringing yourself down.” You said sternly, surprising both of you. You sighed loudly as he looked at you with wide eyes, “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand the need for you to put yourself down when you’re far from unattractive.”

Silence fell for a couple of moments. Until Joel exhaled shakily. “You-you think I’m attractive?” The man asked, he seemed so doubtful.

“I thought that was pretty obvious…” you trailed off shyly as you looked at the tiled floor between your two feet. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious to everyone else.” You chuckled nervously.

You heard him grunt softly before hearing his wet, heavy steps, as he slowly made his way to you. Joel grasped your chin gently, tilting your face towards him. You felt your cheeks burn, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his touch. Your eyes lock with his as he looks at you desperately.

“You think I’m attractive?” He repeated his earlier question more pleadingly.

“I don’t only think you’re attractive… you’re so beautiful. So pretty. Handsome…” you trailed off as you duck your head timidly. “Sexy.” You said apprehensively, before looking away from him. “I think you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen.”

“I think you’re beautiful as well. The prettiest little thing that has ever walked this earth.” He whispers, his voice coming out a lot deeper. “Words can not describe how beautiful you are. Inside-out.”

You felt your breath catch in your chest as you felt your body tremble at his words. You slowly looked up at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. You couldn’t help but like how he was towering over you. He was so broad, so strong. You felt your face burn, biting your lip and feeling incredibly weak as his gaze stayed locked with yours. You felt light headed at the close proximity. You could barely think straight.

He brought his hands down to your waist, holding your body close to his as he smiled warmly down at you. He whispered your name, breath hitching as he looked at you intently. “Sweetheart…”

You breathed his name softly before his lips connected with yours in a gentle kiss. You gasped in surprise at his actions, but you quickly closed your eyes as he deepened the kiss. Joel’s large hands cupped the side of your face in such a tender way it made your insides melt. Never did you think you’d ever be able to feel his lips on yours. And here he was, kissing you. Your arms wrapped around his back, your fingers digging in his back the action making him grunt. His beard was rough against your soft skin, but was so welcomed. You kissed him back just as deeply, hands stroking up and down his back in a soothing manner.

He held you tighter against his body before slowly pulling away, resting his forehead against yours as both of you breathed heavily against each other's lips.

“I hope that was okay.” He said with a gentle smile. Tears welled up in your eyes as you processed what happened, having a hard time to believe that their kiss really happened. Never in your life were you ever able to keep your heavy emotions in control. Certainly not when you were overwhelmed. His forehead furrowed, concern flashing through his eyes. “What’s wrong Darlin’?”

God, why do I have to get so emotional?

“I am so sorry I just. I feel a bit overwhelmed because I always thought you’d never feel anything for me.” You rambled anxiously and your fingers trembled as they swiped under your eyes. “If you have any feelings for me, that is.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty obvious.” He smiled gently, his hands cupping your cheeks. Softly, he brushed your tears away with his thumbs. “Especially after… you know, kissing you.” He said with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yeah maybe…” you shrugged with a giggle, “you do have a point.”

“I do, don’t I?” He smirked playfully.

“You’re so silly.” You rolled your eyes lightheartedly.

“Only with you darlin’,” he winked.

You felt the heat rise in your face once more. You don’t think you could ever get used to his teasing or his flirtatious behaviour.

“So corny…” you snorted as you shook your head with amusement, “you’re lucky I love you.”

You quickly covered your mouth at the realisation that those words were said out loud. Your heartbeat was beating loudly in your chest, as your wide eyes met his. You wonder if he could hear your heart practically beat out of your chest.

His breath hitched in his throat, as his eyes bored into yours. “You mean that?”

Heat overwhelmed your body, feeling as if you’re on fire. Your mouth felt extremely dry, still you tried to swallow, nodding slowly anticipating his next reaction. “I do.”

The molten intensity made you unable to look away as both of you just breathed and stared into each other’s eyes. You felt as if time stopped in that moment, your bodies so close, yet they felt so far. As he held your gaze, he moved his body closer to yours again.

“Joel—” you whispered breathlessly.

He cut you off, kissing you by surprise. Capturing all the words you were about to say. Completely shocked, your whole body froze as you felt his lips claim around yours, hands pulled your face towards his as he kept pressing his lips further, almost to the point it hurt.

All your thoughts overwhelmed your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what was going on. Like a magnet, you felt your body move closer to his, moving your hands around his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

You nibbled on his bottom lip lightly, eliciting a moan from him. Slowly, he pulled away from your lips, to press kisses to your cheek. His lips slowly travelled all over your face. You whimper as his mouth moved from your jaw to your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses all over your neck, your hands moved towards his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He questioned, his beard scratching your neck as he continued to kiss your neck. Your body trembled against his as he continued to suck, kiss and lick your neck.

“Hmmm?”

Joel groaned and stopped his actions when you didn’t reply to his question, pulling back to look at your face. You feel his stare, waiting for your response. You hadn’t realised your eyes fell closed as you were enjoying his kisses. Unhurriedly, you opened your eyes, looking right into his.

You swallowed dryly at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly in your chest. A flare of heat rushed to your cheeks as you decided to tell him the truth. How could you not? When he’s looking at you with so much desperation.

“Like… at least a half year ago?” You answered, your hesitant eyes looking into his own.

Joel groaned loudly, enveloping your lips with his once again. He kissed you with so much passion, giving you everything that had to offer. His mouth moves against yours so hungrily. As he continued to give you long and deep kisses, you felt the heat rising within you. The throbbing between your legs felt unbearable as you whimpered desperately against his lips.

“I love you too baby, so fuckin’ much.” He rasped against your lips.

A gasp left your lips at his words and he deepened the kiss even more, as he quickly took the opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips and swirling it around yours. You felt as if your whole body was on fire as you continued to kiss each other ferociously, your fingers raking through his peppered hair.

He grunted as he pushed your body against the wall. His arms wrap around your body, holding your body close against his. You whimpered as his lips travelled from your lips to your throat, nipping at the skin which resulted in you squirming in his hold. Your hands busied themselves with exploring his exposed back, caressing his skin.

He moved his mouth towards your ear, “you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about holding you.” He murmured. Joel’s lips travelled towards your shoulder while littering your skin with soft kisses. “Kissing you.” His hands wandered unhurriedly against your back, his hands eventually settled on your lower back, just above your ass. “Touching you.”

“Please,” you whined as you tried chasing his lips again, gripping his strong arms with your hands.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.” He whispered raspily into your ear. A shiver went down your spine at his words. Joel’s voice carried so much emotion. So much desperation and adoration for you. “I love this baby blue dress on you. Although it’s really killing me right now.” He groans against your neck as his hands finally move to your ass over your frilly summer dress, grabbing a handful of your cheeks.

You felt even more wetness pool between your legs as you thought about the fact that you weren’t wearing any lingerie underneath.

You turned into a bigger whimpering mess as he kept littering your neck, shoulders and face with kisses. You felt one of his legs sliding between your legs, pressing his thigh against your exposed core.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

Joel lifted his head and your eyes caught his, his lips finding yours in a rough kiss, not wasting any time as he slipped his tongue past your lips. The man is wrapped around you completely, a hand caressing your back, the other holding your ass. Your body trembled as Joel started rubbing his thigh against your soaked core. You’ve never wanted someone more in your whole life.

“Joel,” you whined desperately.

“Tell me what you want kitten.” He groaned.

A loud whimper escaped your lips at his words. The pet name turned you on extremely. Your hips moved against his thigh, grinding against the clothed material.

“I want you.”

A string of moans slipped past your lips as Joel moved his head up to lick into your mouth.

“Pleaseee.” You whined against his lips as you rubbed your sensitive pussy against his jeans. “I need you.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Ah!” You gasped as he picked you up effortlessly. Quickly, you wrapped your legs around his hips. The both of you continued to kiss each other passionately as Joel carried you to your bedroom. Once he reached your bed he softly placed you down the sheets.

You felt the bed dip before he hovered above you. Joel’s dark eyes stare into yours as his hands move underneath the skirt of your dress, his fingers trailing up your thigh. You felt yourself grow nervous at his touch.

“W-wait.” You whispered.

His movements halt immediately at your words. He looked at you worriedly, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You wanted him so badly and you were extremely wet but you would be lying if you weren’t a bit nervous. Everything seemed more real once his touch moved closer to your intimate parts.

You exhaled deeply. “It’s just… don’t get me wrong, I want this. I literally want you so badly, but I’ve never been with someone intimately.” You said nervously as you waited for his reaction.

“Oh baby girl,” he whispered, looking at you tenderly. “Don’t you worry about that. I will take good care of you.” He smiled as he leaned down to rub his nose gently against yours. “But, we don’t need to do anything if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready, I just don’t want to disappoint you.” You nibbled anxiously at your bottom lip.

“Baby, you could never disappoint me with this. You'll always be a good lover to me. You’re literally perfect. I promise.” Joel smiled gently, looking at you with so much adoration before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You felt your whole body relax once his lips touched your skin. You trusted him, he was your everything.

Your lips moved to his neck before you placed an open mouthed kiss to his skin. “Please Joel, I need you.” You whispered seductively into his ear.

He groaned loudly before engulfing your lips in a heated kiss. You whimpered against his mouth as his hands started slowly caressing both of your thighs. Your head was clouded with so much lust, you felt so much love for him. Your brain turned quite literally into mush as you continued to kiss each other deeply.

You moved your hips desperately as you moaned against his lips, hoping Joel would get the hint.

“Such a needy kitten.” He chuckled against your lips.

“Only for you.” You whispered as you looked up at him pleadingly. “Please, touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He counters playfully.

“Please.” You whined desperately as you wiggled underneath him.

Moments later his lips pressed against yours again. The kiss got more heated the more you kissed each other. Your hands wander to the back of his head and you pull at some strands softly making him moan into your mouth. One of his hands slowly trailed up your thigh once again. Your whimpers came out more frequently the closer his hand moved to where you needed him the most. Once his fingers come in contact with your heat you mewl loudly.

“Fuck,” he moaned against your lips, you’re certain because he felt how soaked you were for him. “You’re so fuckin’ wet baby girl. All for me?”

You were overwhelmed with warmth, it felt like a hot storm — as he spoke those words. You nodded frantically. You were sopping wet, you managed to speak but your voice is strangled and pathetic. “P-please. T-take off your clothes.”

“And leave you in this dress? Out of question.” He chuckled as he moved the hand that was touching your wetness to your thigh.

“Who said I wanted to stay in this dress?” You said as you raised one of your eyebrows at him.

“Baby—”

“Undress me cowboy.” You smiled as you pulled your bottom lip with your teeth seductively.

“God, you’ll be the death of me.” He groaned loudly.

“My name is Y/N but god sounds good too.” You giggled.

Joel shook his head with an amused grin on his face. His fingertips find the hem of your dress and you sit up a bit. You raised your arms quickly to help him get rid of your baby blue dress.

You felt your body tremble in anticipation, as his eyes roamed all over your naked body, his eyes not being able to stick to one place. You felt your heartbeat picking up as his hands reached for your hips, holding them and pressing your body closer to his. His lips moved to ghost over your neck, slowly moving below your ear. “You’re out of this world. So beautiful.” He whispered into your ear.

His lips then crashed against yours as you gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing, and took it upon yourself to guide his hand back down to your heat. His mouth fell from yours to unleash a heavy groan into your neck at the first slip of his fingers between your wet lips.

It's very, fucking wet, more wet than you'd honestly ever been and certainly more wet than he could've imagined in his wildest dreams.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful sweet girl,” he muttered again in a very raw tone, his voice strained. His lips trail slowly down to your neck, all the way to your chest. Joel breathed in through his nose, you flush harder at his words and shivered when he exhaled warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “The prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

That’s all you’ve been given before he wrapped his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucked and licked passionately, as he also pushed one of his fingers inside your pussy.

The whine that came out of you only drove Joel to seek out more of those heavenly sounds.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He moaned, as your pussy clenched around his digit. “I need to prepare you as much as I can for my cock.”

Your whines became louder as you felt the pleasure overwhelm you. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, one of his fingers is more pleasurable than any of your fingers.

His tongue began licking, long licks with the flat of his tongue over your hard nipple as his other hand kept pumping his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

You whined as your core started clenching around his finger, begging for more. Instinctively you began moving your hips, grinding against his hand, as he groaned against your skin. His lips left your breast with a wet pop and he looked at you intensely as he continued to fuck you with his finger. You were panting heavily, barely able to think straight as he slowly slipped another finger inside you. He moved his face back to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” He panted against your lips.

You bucked your hips up towards his hand in response, silently begging for more. He noticed and slipped a third finger in, moving them slowly at first as your tight pussy tried to adjust to the addition. Little whimpers left your lips as he fucks you slowly with his fingers. You felt so full, you can’t help but imagine him fucking you with his cock, you’re quite certain he’s massive. His pace eventually speeds up as you move your hips along with his movements. His lips moved back to kiss you, whining against his mouth. Your hands clutched the bed sheets as you moved along with the pace of his fingers, feeling him curl them and spreading them.

“That feels good doesn't it baby? You like it when I play with your little pussy? You like me fucking you with my fingers?" Joel moaned and his thumb connected with your clit, rubbing it at the same pace as he fucked you with his fingers. You bucked your hips and nodded as you moaned. "Use your words kitten," he taunts.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, please oh my god. Joel, please.” You writhed against the sheets as you whimpered. “Please keep calling me that.” You bit your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“You’re such a good kitty for me,” he said, a smug smirk playing on his face. You were impressed how easy it was for this man above you to turn you on and make a mess of you.

Joel leans his head back down, trapping your lips in yet another heated kiss. You felt your legs spread even more open for him as you felt yourself get close to your first orgasm of the night. His tongue slipped into your mouth after another gasp fell from your lips. You couldn’t help but moan, whine and whimper as he continued to pleasure you. Your hands wandered to the back of his head pulling at hair softly making him moan into your mouth.

“Fuck, I need you so bad.” He groaned as his thumb applied more pressure on your little nub. He curled his fingers forward with every penetration until your thighs shook.

“I need you more.” You whimpered as your body trembled underneath his.

His eyes stared into yours, lust and love written all over them. When he fastened his motions inside you, you moaned again and squeezed your eyes shut. A burning intense feeling, a tight coil in your lower abdomen made your back arch beneath him.

“Open your eyes for me, my baby.”

You opened your eyes slowly, looking straight into his eyes. His intense gaze was what it took for you to come undone. The hot feeling spread all over your body, your body tingled, your hips moving at their own accord against Joel’s hand.

“You’re doing so well for me angel,” He said proudly as his fingers slowed down, slipping out of you to rub your slit softly, still helping you ride out your orgasm.

As you came back to your senses, you felt his fingers slip away from your heat. You felt your pussy clench around nothing every now and then and were dripping down the sheets, which made you whimper helplessly. You needed him so bad. And now. Joel climbed off the bed, making quick work to remove all of his clothing. You were still in a daze, closing your eyes for a minute. Moments later you felt the bed dip.

You felt your legs being spread further apart with his strong hands. A loud broken moan left your lips at the feel of his mouth meeting your soaking wet pussy. He dove between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance before he travelled up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet muscle and sucking your button into his mouth.

You practically screamed at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed once again. You felt your body trembling terribly. You needed more. You tried to grind your wetness slowly against his lips as your body continued to shake.

Strong arms were suddenly locked around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his lips.

“You taste so good, baby girl. I could eat this pussy all day.”

You felt heat overwhelm your senses more as you felt Joel chuckle against your heat. His tongue was lapping sloppily at your lower lips. Squeaky, senseless noises came out from your throat. You were squirming, it was so good you could barely even figure out what he was doing with his tongue.

“Fuck, Joel baby, oh my goooood” you cried out loud. You were certain that if people walked outside your house that they would have heard you by now. He sucked lazily at your clit while he moved to slip two fingers into you. Joel eventually sucked harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little bud while moving his fingers inside you a bit faster. You kept chanting his name between moans as you now hold onto his hair with both of your hands.

“Please, I’m so cloooooose.” You whined.

As Joel sucked your clit harder, you gasped loudly as you felt your whole body trembling even more and then you felt your body tense as you came against his mouth. Your whole mind felt like exploding and all you could see were stars. You felt truly overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you were experiencing. Your body continued to tremble as you felt yourself come down from your high.

You felt Joel’s tongue still licking up your pussy as he retreats his fingers from your pulsing hole. His mouth felt heavenly, but you whined at the sensitivity. He moaned as he licked against your tight hole, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your entrance.

“T-too much.” You whimpered at the overstimulation.

Joel ignored your pleads, moaning against your heat as he continued to eat you out. The man you love so much that was between your legs kept sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises spur him on, to move his lips back up to your clit. He sucked the nub softly between his lips. You were grinding your hips against his face as moans kept spilling off your lips. This time he didn’t hold you back from fucking his face. Eventually he leaned down, slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curled the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraging him to do it again.

You were a mess of his name, you chanted his name over and over again. Your hips moved against his face as you continued to whimper and moan breathlessly underneath him. Writhing below him, you felt him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that had you seeing stars, while your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably. Defiance and greed consumes your thoughts, your fingers once again gripped onto his peppered hair rather harshly and hips pushed against his face to shove his tongue deeper into your hole.

“Ahhh Joeeeeel—” you drag out. You were really so close, you just needed one more little push.

“Come for me kitten,” he whispered against you, before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb came up to press against your little bundle of nerves. That does it, your dam broke down as you came against his mouth as your whole body wouldn’t stop trembling. You came with a loud whine, your hips stuttering as your vision turned white. You cry out his name, your voice unable to remain steady. Your fingers were tightly woven through Joel’s hair and your hips pushed so far against his face, you almost thought you were suffocating him.

“You’re always doing so good for me baby, I love you so much my sweetheart.” Joel whispered against you. As you slowly came down to reality again and you tried to catch your breath, you heard him praising you softly while he continued to lap at your wetness gently, until you whined because the overstimulation was getting too much for you. You Nudged your leg against his face as you tried to squirm away from him, Joel’s mouth finally detached from your heat.

He quickly licked the wetness off his lips and the places he could reach before he crawled up to you with a smile, to kiss you deeply, cupping your face in his hands. You moaned at the taste of yourself against his tongue, your eyes fluttering against his skin while you kiss, his wet beard against your face, your arms wrapped around him to pull his body closer against yours. You sighed, against his mouth, you felt yourself melt in his embrace already. You can feel his soft mouth smiling against yours, as the kiss gets more heated.

Soon your hands start to grip his body tighter against yours, your legs tangling together. It's like you're both starved, this insatiable hunger for each other.

You couldn’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock. It turned slick as you kept grinding yourself against him, and he had no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh, fuck” Joel rasped, and it was because he reached down and grasped himself to line up between your lips and slide. He kept rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him, and back down. He loved the sounds you made as he spread his precum around your slit, where you are still dripping for him.

You gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You quickly realised by the way he felt while he rubbed against you that he was huge. You were still so wet, but the thought of him finally entering you with his big cock made you wetter. Joel swallowed your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against yours. He kissed you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

You were trembling against him, filled with anticipation. His broad body covered your body with his. Loving how bigger and taller he was than you. You writhed against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and making you see white.

“Are you ready for me darlin’?” He whispered as he looked deep into your eyes. “Let me know if you want me to stop and I will.” He promised.

You bit your lip and nodded, too shy and excited to talk, as you rubbed your pussy against his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunted, “I need you to use your words kitty.”

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly.

“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, sweetheart?” He said before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reached down and grasped himself to line up between your lips and slide. He rubbed the tip firmly over your swollen clit then moved down to your wet tight hole and your mind was all over the place.

“P-please J-Joel…” you stuttered as your body trembled even more underneath him.

He rubbed himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer lips sliding his dick teasingly around your core. You arched your back slightly and whimpered loudly out of frustration.

The moment you want to beg him again he leaned down to line it up with your entrance. Your legs trembled underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. Joel slid the tip in so slowly it was agonising. Your lips part with a gasp. He was careful, like he was afraid you might break. You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushed more of him inside you. You whined at the stretch of him. He was so big. You thought big was an understatement, he’s huge. Your tight pussy clenched around him as it tried to accommodate his massive girth. Joel continued to push more of his cock inside you. He leaned down to kiss your lips gently as he moved more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.

His hips stilled once he heard you gasp loudly. “So full…”

“Do you think you can handle more?” He smiled tenderly as he looked down at you.

“T-t-there’s m-more?” You stammered with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly.

“Please,” You closed your eyes and whined as you nodded. You gripped the bed sheets between your fingers as you begged him for more.

“Good girl,” he groaned softly. You thought there wasn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he said those words you felt your heat get sopping wet. Your pussy continued to pulse and clench around his cock as he moved deeper inside you.

Once he bottomed out, you felt his tip kiss your cervix. Joel let his body rest against yours as he allowed you to adjust to his size. You felt so full, as if he was made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You felt one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reached up to your face.

His breathing was heavy as you squeezed his cock repeatedly. Small whimpers left your lips as you squirm underneath him.

You needed more.

You slowly opened your eyes to look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Joel.”

“My sweet girl needs me to move?” He asked teasingly, as he cocked his head to the side.

“Yes, please.” You begged as your pussy clenched around his thickness rather hard which made him moan. “I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He licked his lips before he nodded quietly and started moving slow and deep, one hand reached down to play with your clit, while the other held your hand tightly. The sting was hurting for a while, but it easily morphed into a more pleasurable feeling as he moved against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he was giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure.

He grunted as he dropped his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it.

“Such a tight pussy,” he groaned.

The angle was so good, but when his pace picked up he finally leaned down to wrap his arms around you, the action made you gasp and you grab at the sheets around you, to fuck you harder and faster.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Doing so so, good for me. Y-you’re so perfect.” He whispered as he nuzzled his face against your neck.

You whimpered as his lips moved back up to your lips, enveloping them in a passionate kiss. At a certain point you felt the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point in your core that has you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure he was providing you. A loud noise like nothing you’ve ever made escaped your throat, a strange cry of his name.

“Feeling good sweetheart?” He grunted, a small smirk forming on his lips.

His mouth covered your own instead as he swallowed your mewls, you could feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulled tight, tight, tighter. His lips slid away from yours, wet and swollen and his breathing harsh as he tried to suck in air again, and everything was too much. It was just too much for you to handle.

He quickened his pace, his hips snapped up to yours to a fast tempo. “This pussy was made for this cock, isn’t it, baby girl?”

His hands couldn’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You moaned at the feeling of his speed, your fourth? orgasm of the night, coming so close. Your arms wrapped around him and your nails dig in his back making him groan. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “You look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, Christ I bet you’d look so pretty full of my cum too.”

“Please…” you moaned as you thought about him filling you up. “Please Joel, fill this pussy up.”

He groaned as he buried his face into your neck as he fucked into you, making the whole bed rattle at his force.

“You want to cum sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically at his words with your eyes closed as you bit your lip harshly. He brought one of his hands down, rubbing your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’d cum.

“F-fuck fuuuck, Joel-Joel, oh my god. I’m going to—!”

“Cum for me, my pretty angel. Let yourself go. Cum all over me.” He moaned against your ear.

Your whole body trembled as you came with a loud cry, your body squirming underneath his as you held his body closer to yours, your nails digging in his back, scratching it. That time around, the orgasm felt more intense than the others, you were feeling so overwhelmed by the pleasure. Joel groaned in your ear as your walls spasmed and pulsed around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.

“Fuck,“ he moaned, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Until it’s all full and messy?”

You nodded vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. Your pussy squeezed around his cock in anticipation. “Please…”

He groaned loudly, as he cummed inside you. The warmth of his seed filled you up and spread within your walls. You whimpered at the feel of his cum dripping out of you.

Once both of you caught your breaths, Joel leaned his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.

“Please… stay.” You moaned softly.

“Of course baby,” he whispered before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Want you to stay inside.” You whimpered as your pussy clenched around him.

Joel groaned, wrapping his arms around you before rolling both of you onto your sides. “anythin’ for you, baby.”

“I love you Joel.” You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, enjoying his strong hold on you.

“I love you too sweetheart. You’re everythin’ to me.”

Both of you continued to caress each other’s bodies, whispering sweet nothings, kissing and holding each other until you both fell into a slumber.

Joel caught your heart, promising to hold onto it forever.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #tlou x reader #tlou x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #my writing #I’m aware that there are lots of grammatical errors and just me accidentally switching tenses #I’m just too tired to fix it all 😭

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zhongrin · 8 months ago

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Miss rin, the al haitham and nahida comic you put out? It's not helping me in staying loyal to my husband tartaglia 😭 how are you able to elicit such responses from me no matter the medium?? Writing or through visual art, your art brings out the same reactions in me everytime without fail. The said reaction being squealing and giggling madly while kicking the air 😭

Sorry if this turned out to be too long but in short I just wanted to remind you that you're awesome and your blog makes me unfaithful to my man (Am I complaining idk... no I'm absolutely not complaining, tartaglia is ig)

Also thank you every delicious fic you put out for us, I kinda feel honoured that you choose to share your writing with us here... they're scrumptious (especially your angst fics oof I'm in love)

Have a great day and take care, miss rin! ❤❤❤

[ yan!mafia boss!al haitham + child!nahida x nanny!reader comic -> ]

(⸝⸝⸝O﹏ O⸝⸝⸝) uehdhejjfskjfsk mx naya you're a blessing to me fr <3 everytime i see you in my notifs i go "!!! *imaginary ears perk up & tail starts helicopter-ing*"

ngl your first paragraph is making me brainrot even more…. forgive me for the word vomit below oops

cw. yandere, implied kidnapping

childe who's one of the executives under tsaritsa, another mafia family that rules snezhnaya. this man gives me obsessed yandere stalker vibes, but at the very least his upbringing makes him respect you enough to not make it your problem.

... that is, until he stalks you one day and saw you coming out of a luxury penthouse… and al haitham's seeing you off.

the thread holding his restraints snap.

childe is a protector through and through. he's only doing this so you'll be safe. you're none the wiser to what kind of man al haitham is, but that's okay! you have him! his hands might not be clean either ー heck, he probably has more blood in his hands personally compared to al haitham, but he can take care of you better, that he can promise! he'll be with you 24/7 unless he needs to go out of a mission! he'll cook you your favorite foods, he's practiced enough times to be able to make it blindfolded by now! he knows how many pillows and bolsters and blankets and plushies and the kind of pajamas that'll let you sleep the deepest, he has the same soap and shampoo and moisturizer you use daily in his place, he has a wardrobe full of clothes in your style he knows you'd like and the accessories you've pined through transparent glass because you had to save moneyー you see?

you'll be happy with him. so you understand why he has to do this, right?

Right?

#yandere #genshin x reader #childe x reader #rin releases a plot bunny into the wild #rin is having tea with: naya 🖤#rin answers

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bettyfrommars · 1 year ago

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I'm on Fire//older!biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader//90's au//Part 9

🚨18+Only, mature themes, violence, mentions of violent past, angst, blackmail, stabbing (not reader), brass knuckles, biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, bleeding, mention of blood, longing, mutual pining, knife wielding, biker gang, threats, sexual tension, bandages, relationship drama, reader thinks she's been cheated on, fear of loss, eventual smut (not in this chapter) Word count: 9.4k

Summary: Most of part 9 takes place within the span of one evening, with the exception of a flashback to the previous day. While you're trying to get a hold of Eddie, hoping for an explanation, he decides to take matters into his own hands, and ends up taking on several members of a rival gang. In the aftermath, you rush to Eddie's aid, and at the end of the day, a familiar foe brings you comfort. Another ST character is brought into the fold, as well as mention of others soon to appear.

Series Masterlist

A/N: OOF, I had planned to bring some other ST characters into this chapter but this one got too busy, so I decided to save them for the next one. The new character Astrid was created by I'm on Fire fan and friend @texasblues and I hope I did her justice. You can read more on her and biker!Steve here I know a lot of you have been hoping for some soft Eddie and reader moments, and they are coming, I promise, along with our regularly scheduled smut. Also, I meant to get this out an hour ago but decided to re-write a scene at the last minute 🙃Love you all.

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I'm on Fire Part 9: Fade into You

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10:25 on Friday night, after the photos arrived

There came a soft knocking at your door, and then there was Katie’s voice, asking if you needed anything. You were about to answer, “yeah, a new life,” but you settled for a bland no thank you.

You were on the floor with your back against the bed, cheeks wet with tears, looking down at the phone in your lap. To the left of you was the stack of incriminating photos, but they were face down now on the beige carpet—you couldn’t look at them anymore. You’d already gone to the bathroom to dry heave a few times, but then you realized you wanted to give Eddie a chance to explain himself, but per usual, you couldn’t get a hold of him. You considered that he was at Wayne’s house, and you thought about getting that number from Robin, but even in your distressed state, you’d didn’t want any drama to possibly interrupt time with his uncle.

And so, you waited. You waited for Eddie to get the message you’d left on his machine and call you back and tell you that the photos weren’t real, that none of this was, that it had all been a bad dream that you’d wake up from any second now. “Good morning baby. You were screaming in your sleep like you were having a horrible nightmare.”

Wanting to torture yourself a bit more, you grabbed a photo off the top of the pile and turned it over: it was one of the ones with him and Erica, and it made you shiver. He barely had any clothes on. Had they just fucked and she was saying goodbye to him? She held his face as they kissed, and he had his hand on her stomach. There was another one of her inside his apartment, coming out of the hallway, smiling, while Eddie stood near his dresser. As damning as these were, you wondered why whoever took them hadn’t just snapped photos of them in the act? Eddie was a cautious guy and would most likely think to close the curtains for the fornication portion of the evening, but still—something felt off to you.

You told yourself it was just your foolhardy naivete and lack of self-respect that had you trying to make excuses for him, even now.

You tossed that photo to the side and picked up another, your eyes narrowing on the woman who had her arms around Eddie that same night he made you cum under the cherry blossoms. Her hair was a bright, candy red; she had it up in a high ponytail, and she had a tattoo on her upper arm. He was on the edge of his bed facing the window and she was on her knees behind him, arms crossed around his neck, hugging him from behind. She was really pretty, and she was smiling---so was Eddie, for that matter, like he wanted her to be hugging him; like he was happy she was there.

A sob hitched in your chest, wanting to die all over again, but then you continued to examine the photo as if you could think your way around the fact that he clearly had a woman he liked in his bed at an ungodly hour. The photos of him kissing Erica in the hallway made you sad too, but the ones with the red head made you sick, because he not only invited her in, but he wanted her there. He looked very relaxed and comfortable, like maybe they’d had a thing going for a while---like they were close---and that tore you up more than any quick kiss in a hallway with a groupie like Erica would.

There was also something off about the photos with the red head, but you couldn’t quite place it. He still had his leather on over that white t-shirt and he was turning to her as if in surprise? Maybe he hadn’t expected her to lunge across the bed and hug him like that? Your mind was racing on fumes at this point, and your internal tires had no more tread.

What would his excuse be? That the woman was just a friend? But then, why was she on his bed hugging him at 2 in the morning? Wearing a skimpy tank top and tiny shorts? Did she spend the night with him? In his bed??

You shifted your eyes to the phone, willing it to ring, and then, as another tear slid down your cheek, you clawed at the receiver and yanked it up to call his place again.

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

12:43am much earlier that morning

Eddie noticed a big rig parked in the lot when he got back from dropping you off, but it was over near the heavy equipment garages, and he figured one of the guys dropped it off, or it was waiting overnight to be repaired. Maybe it was one of the truckers he knew just pulling into the lot for a quick snooze? The semi truck was an expensive, privately owned red beauty with polished chrome, and it wasn’t carrying any freight. He looked around with caution, just in case, before entering through the garage space below his apartment and locking the door.

He appreciated having the top floor apartment all to himself, and living at work was on brand for him, but he hated having to come through the garage to get to his place; he yearned to smell something else besides motor oil and brake fluid right before bed. Thankfully, most of the car repairs and servicing happened across at the parking lot at the main garages, and the space below his apartment was used mostly for specialty work on custom build bikes. At the other side of the garage, across from the stairs, was a door that led to the clubhouse used by the Coffin Kings for meetings and socializing, and Eddie hadn’t been doing much of either. Not a single part of him missed his ex, but he did miss the house they’d shared together for less than a year before everything fell apart. There was a farm house out in the country that he had his eye on, and if it ever went up for sale, he’d be the first one in line, but until then—this half-assed studio above a garage would have to do.

He wondered if you ever thought about where you’d want to live. Did you prefer houses or apartments? Did you tend to move around a lot, or would you make Hawkins your home for a while? He wanted to ask you these things, but didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to interrogate or pressure you. His ex always accused him of trying to smother her and “dim her light” and the experience had made him extremely cautious about the words that came out of his mouth when he was around you. He didn’t want to get shouted at or told he was doing it wrong. In his heart, he knew that you were nothing like his ex, but the aftershocks of some traumas had a way of digging their heels in.

He flipped the round lock at the middle of the metal doorknob and hooked the security chain before heading for the stairs. That was when he cocked his head, noticing with a prickle on the back of his neck that the hallway light was on upstairs.

He never turned on that hallway light. Ever.

And then he heard footsteps up above in his apartment.

Goddamn, Eddie thought to himself, he was way too fucking exhausted for this, whatever it was. He just wanted to tug one out to the smell of you that still lingered on his shirt and then pass out, but no. His life was basically a circus, but with no really cute acrobatic animals to love on.

Was it Erica again? She didn’t have a key to his place though, and he couldn’t see her trying to break in, she might ruin her manicure.

With a heavy sigh, he put his palm on the handle of the knife sheathed at his hip and made his way up the steps, ears trained for any more movement from up above.

“Anyone here?” Eddie called out, hoping against hope that no one answered.

He got to the top of the stairs and waited, ears perked, listening to his own breathing, when all of a sudden:

“SURPRISE!”

Eddie’s knife came up with his hand reflexively, his back going flush against the wall at the top of the stairs, as a redheaded woman popped out of his apartment and into the hallway wearing a Michael Myers mask, brandishing a large kitchen knife.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie said on an exhale, lowering his weapon, his heart in his throat. “You crazy? I almost stabbed you.”

Max was laughing, wheezing, tongue pressing out between her teeth as she pulled the mask up and let it rest on the top of her head. “I wish you could’ve seen your face!” She crossed her arms at her stomach and bent over, winded in a laughing spasm. “Damn, that was so good. Did you shit yourself, Munson?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Eddie pushed off the wall and crossed the distance on the wood floor in his heavy boots, wallet chain slapping against his jeans, and then gently took the kitchen knife from her before they exchanged a tight hug. He told her it was good to see her, and then, “how the hell did you get in here, Red?”

She pulled the mask off the top of her head as she followed him into the apartment. “You gave me a key, remember? 4 or 5 years ago, when Lucas and I broke up for a week and I needed a place to crash. That was before I had my rig.”

Oh sure, now he remembered. That was back when the apartment operated as a bit of a flop house for bikers who were too black out drunk to drive home, back when Eddie lived in Chicago for a stint. Lucas, who Max affectionately called “her old man”, was also a patched Coffin King member, but for the Indianapolis chapter. They weren’t married yet, even though Lucas had asked many times. Max had a bad taste in her mouth when it came to marriage, she felt like it was a curse, and so they compromised to be committed. They lived together, they had two dogs and a calico tabby cat that were their babies, and they were close enough that Eddie and Steve and Robin got to see them a couple times a year. Max had been an independent long-haul trucker for the past couple years; she loved the freedom and the power she had behind the wheel.

“Is that your new rig out there?” Eddie asked, unhooking his chain to put his wallet on the dresser.

Max put her fists on her hips, the mask still in one hand, and batted her eyes proudly. “Yep, that’s my new baby Big Red. She’s beautiful, right? Look---” she paused to pull her arm across her body to show Eddie her bicep. “---even had Steve put her in a tattoo for me.” Inked on her skin was her red rig surrounded by daisies. On the inside wrist of that same arm was the outline of a heart with the lettering: L.S + M.M. She was in a tank top and a pair of jean shorts, exposing the bursts of color from other tattoos on her ankle, thigh, and inner forearm. And of course, she had a lower back tattoo.

“You changed your hair,” Eddie said with a tip of his chin as he went around to sit on the bed facing the window to take his boots off. “I like it.”

“See, now,” she threw the mask on the sofa in front of the TV. “It only took you a few minutes to notice I changed the color. It took Lucas days.” It was a much more punk, bolder red than what she’d had her whole life, and so she was a little self-conscious about it, and it felt good to hear his compliment.

Eddie finished untying the first boot as he felt her crawl across the bed toward him, and before he knew it, she had her arms around him in a playful hug. “Eddiiiiiieeee I’ve missed youuuuuuu,” and then she swayed back and forth, taking his body with her.

He patted her arm, grinning; the kids always made him smile. Even though they weren’t kids anymore. Max was...what? 26 or 27 now? “I missed you, too, weirdo. You need to come around more often. Robin said she invited you two to the barbecue a few weeks back?”

She released him to jump off the bed and take a few steps over to plop down on the sofa with a bounce. “Ugh, I was taking a haul to Denver that weekend. I told Lucas to go, but he said he didn’t want to go without me, which is kinda sweet, I guess, but still.”

Eddie shrugged out of his leather with a cringe, his shoulder muscles aching, and then he got up to walk to the kitchen portion of the studio. “Beer? Soda?” He asked, rolling his neck.

She was flat on the sofa, so he couldn’t see her face. “You got any whiskey?”

As a matter of fact, he did, so he poured her a finger, and got himself a beer, and then went to sit in the old green armchair across from her that he had picked up at the Goodwill.

“So,” she sat up to take a sip of her drink with a clench of her teeth and a hiss, eyeballing him. “You gonna tell me who the girl is?”

Eddie looked dumbfounded. “Wait. What do you mean? How did you know?”

Max gestured to the collar of his shirt. “That’s not exactly your shade of red.”

He was still confused, but then he tucked his chin and pulled the front of his shirt out to see that there were two places where your lipstick had smudged, and a smile immediately jerked across his mouth.

“Oh, I know that look,” Max gave an open mouth grin, lifting her eyebrows a few times. “Hearts are gonna be breaking wide open all over the state tonight: Eddie Munson is in love.”

He tried to give her a stern look, but ended up falling miserably as he took a swig of his beer, unable to wipe the smile off of his face. “She’s...we’re just...it’s still new, but…”

Max cackled. “Eds! I need to know everything,” she coaxed, leaning forward. “Do not leave out a single detail.”

He cleared his throat and gave her the cliff notes version of his time with you, proudly showing off the painting you had done for him when he got to that point in the story. He left out the bits about Charlene, because Max was very protective, and he didn't want her to worry.

“Aw, dammit,” Max slapped her forehead. “You mean I would have met her if I’d gone to the barbecue? Now I really am bummed,” she took another sip of her whiskey. “Hey, did you hear about Suzie?”

Eddie cocked his head. “Dustin’s Suzie?”

“Yeah,” Max scratched her arm. “Dustin finally knocked her up. She’s due in a month I think? And they’re wanting to move home, back to Hawkins. Dustin’s mom hasn’t been doing good.”

Come to think of it, Steve had mentioned this to Eddie, but it must’ve slipped to the back of his brain somehow. Steve liked to talk on the phone a lot more than Eddie did, and the past year might as well have bee a few days long for how fast it had gone by.

“Steve’s pretty excited to be a Grandpa, I know that,” Eddie added, the long-standing joke being that Dustin was Steve’s other son: they even had matching nail bat tattoos on their shoulders.

They exchanged stories a bit longer, and then Max yawned.

“You want to take my bed?” Eddie asked. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Hell no,” Max scoffed. “The bed in my rig is way more comfortable than that brick mattress.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie stood up to walk her out. “You want to get coffee in the morning, or?”

Max scooped up her Michael mask. “I don’t think I’ll have time, I gotta hit the road in a couple hours, actually. But we’ll make a plan to come visit in a few weeks? Maybe we can all get together when Dustin comes home? That would be nice.”

“That would be really nice,” Eddie said, sincerely, putting his boots back on to escort her down to the main door.

She was out of the building and on her way across the parking lot when she spun around. “Hey, tell that new girl of yours that if she breaks your heart, I’ll break her face.”

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“I warned you.” Charlene said, a hiccup of laughter in her voice.

And then, the message continued. “If you don’t know already, that poor girl of yours just got her heart broken, what a shame. And now she has the proof that you’re nothing but a dimestore gigolo who isn’t capable of being faithful to anyone. Sleep well, lover.”

Eddie called your place first, but the line was busy. Every fiber of his being wanted to run over to see you and hold you and tell you that he was being set up. Would you even believe him? He couldn’t though; he couldn’t fathom letting her go on with this bullshit for a moment longer. The fear and anger he felt squeezed his heart like a vise as he scrambled to throw some clothes on, figuring he’d go to your place right after he was done with Charlene. He’d tell you everything: about her threats, how she was to blame for you losing your job. God, what if you ended up hating him anyway for being the reason you got fired? He’d have to risk it, he was done letting this bitch run his life.

The whole getting you fired thing was bad enough, but to actually hurt you? Make you cry?? Eddie saw red in the way he does when he’s about to rip someones throat out and send them to the morgue.

He hated this side of himself. He wasn’t proud of the thoughts he was having as he got dressed, slipping his knife into the leather sheath at his side and putting the brass knuckles in his pocket. Those weapons weren’t for Charlene; they were for the security she hired to be with her 24/7, and he was almost positive they’d have to be dealt with in order to get to her. There was a monster inside of him, deeply breed into his DNA---a cold blooded killer---and it was the tendencies of that monster that he had done his best to keep in shackles most of his life.

His father, Ray Munson, one of the Coffin Kings original founders, would’ve done horrible, unspeakable things to any man or woman who dared to threaten him or do half the things Charlene had done to Eddie. Ray Munson was a bad man. A scary man who made everyone he loved, including his young son, fear for their lives at times.

Looking back, Eddie was glad that Ray went to prison when he did and Wayne was able to raise him, because god only knew where he would be without the aid of a gentle, loving hand. In prison too, for drugs or murder? Dead? Wayne taught him patience, and how to channel his rage through boxing and long rides on his motorcycle; through work and duty and routine. He taught him never to lay hands on a woman.

Jaw muscles clenching, his entire body vibrating, a voice in Eddie’s head told him to call Steve; call someone. Bones? Thumper? Let someone know where he was going, and have them ride with him or wait for him. Let them know the address.

A voice in his gut screamed at him not to go over to her place alone, but he didn’t listen.

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After Eddie took off to go to Charlene’s the message numbers on the answering machine jumped from 1 to 6 in the dark of his apartment as you continued to call, fully justified in deserving some kind of explanation from him. The more he didn’t answer, the more it somehow confirmed his guilt, to the point that it was starting to really piss you off. To the point that you finally just screamed FUCK THIS aloud, slammed the phone down, and went to grab your jean jacket and keys, deciding to go find him. “I’m coming for you, Eddie Munson,” you said under your breath with a curse.

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As Eddie revved his bike and pulled up to the side gate at Charlene’s, flanked by thick trees, he was not shocked to find three of Lucifer’s Own, a rival biker gang, guarding the gate, almost as if they were waiting there for him, expecting him. 3 to 1 odds didn’t faze Eddie one bit, especially with the amount of adrenaline pumping through his body at the moment. He parked his chopper on the other side of the quiet street and walked across, heavy boots clapping the pavement, wallet chain slapping his thigh.

One of the guys, the shorter one with the thick head of black hair, black leather chaps, and an orange bandanna around his neck, made his way over to meet Eddie after a lone car passed between them.

His hand was up with his palm out. “Listen bro, I know we’ve got beef, but I like your uncle, so I’m gonna give you a chance to walk away.”

“I need to talk to Charlene,” Eddie said, continuing his trajectory forward.

“Bro, are you deaf? She doesn’t want to see y----”

But he couldn’t finish because Eddie cracked him in the jaw with a brass knuckle. He had exchanged his rings for the duster because it gave him more support and there was less of a chance of breaking his fingers or hand.

Knocked out, the guy sank to the ground like a wet rag, and Eddie stepped over his body, flexing his hands, ready for the next two. Both wearing their biker cuts, one was tall, young, and pale with a nose pushed flat against his face like it had been broken 8 times, and the other one was stocky with a gray beard.

The taller one started screaming and charged at Eddie, yanking a knife from inside his vest, arms flailing. Eddie dodged the first swing of the knife as it came, blocked the second attempt with his arm, chopped the kid in the throat, and then rocked him with an upper cut. The tall one stumbled back, bleeding, dazed, and he dropped his knife, so Eddie picked it up and threw it over his shoulder.

“I can take you, Munson,” the guy with the gray beard and the meaty hands said with a snort. The older members of the clubs were always tough, grisly old bastards who had seen and done a lot. He had one fist up to guard his face and the other held his knife, ready to swipe. Eddie slipped his knife out of its holster, twirled it around in his fingers a few times, and gave the guy a tilt of his chin. They engaged in a bit of a knife dance for a bit, both swiping and missing, while Eddie patiently waited until he was able to swing his long arm in a left hook to the side of the dudes head. While the guy was still stunned, Eddie jammed the tip of his knife in to his shoulder and the guy howled in pain, and then Eddie stomped his foot against the side of his knee to make him go down.

The only problem was, Eddie had lost sight of the first guy he’d knocked out, and that one was on his feet now, and hooking his arm around Eddie from behind to try and get him in a chokehold. Taken by surprise, Eddie reeled back, and the skinny kid got in a few swings at Eddie’s gut and face while the other guy held him; the guy punching had rings on and Eddie started to bleed, a cut opening on his cheek.

Eddie planted his feet and bent forward, sending the guy flying in the air over his head, crashing into the old guy who was trying to stand up.

That was when it happened: the tall kid, who was relentless as hell, pulled out a knife from his boot, and came in fast from the side to stab it into Eddie’s stomach.

Eddie grunted as it sank in, and then the kid yanked it out and Eddie’s hand flew to the spot at his side where blood was already wetting the webs of his fingers. The kid looked worried, not because he’d just stabbed someone, but because Eddie looked like he was about to murder him.

With a growl, Eddie tackled the kid to the pavement, and secured a bloody hand around his throat as he pounded his face into the ground over and over again until he turned the kid’s lights out. Eddie found his footing to stand up with a cringe and a hiss, feeling the warm wetness soak his shirt, knowing it was bad, but not wanting to look at it.

Eddie had to punch the older guy in the gut one more time before all three stopped their advances; two of them were unconscious and the older dude was on his ass trying not to puke.

The security camera above the gate was pointed right at him, and he knew that Charlene had watched the whole thing from the safety of her mansion. Eddie shook his head slowly back and forth, making eye contact with her through the lens, his chest heaving, his eyes going black. He pressed as hard as he could onto the wound, and limped over to the intercom.

He pushed the white button on the small black box and put his mouth to the speaker. “Charlene!”

He stepped back to look up, and the mechanical arm rotated the camera to meet his gaze. He screamed her name into the electronic eye so that she could see how deathly serious he was about his anger: she had never witnessed this side of him before.

He went back to the intercom and pushed the button again. “I’ll come here every night and beat all of your security guards bloody if I have to. I won’t let you hurt her anymore.”

Warm, viscous blood oozed between his fingers and he new he had to get somewhere else before he got lightheaded on his bike and crashed. It was a good thing Charlene decided to hide because he would’ve put his hands around her throat and never stopped squeezing until she was dust.

One more push on the button, leaving a bloody fingerprint this time. “If you want a war, Charlene, you fucking got it.”

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Eddie wasn’t at his apartment. His bike was gone and the windows in his place were dark, and you wandered in circles for a bit in the parking lot, letting out a few good, frustrated screams, before getting back in your car. You had the music on listening to Something I can never have by Nine Inch Nails, and a strange force compelled you to start aimlessly driving around to places you thought Eddie might be. You checked down around the Velvet Hammer again, over at The Hideout, and then up over the hill where he took the scenic route on his bike, and then wound back around to the road that let to Munson’s Garage again. You’d camp out in his doorway if you had too; you weren’t going to let him ignore you.

But then, with a catch in your breath, you saw him: one car ahead of you, he pulled out from a stop sign. You’d know that long hair and big chrome bike anywhere. The car at the stop in front of you took too long to go and you honked, frustrated that you would lose him. After another stop, you came up behind him, noticing that he swayed a little on the bike, almost losing control for a second, which was not like Eddie; him and that bike were like one entity. He took a country back road, and you kept at a safe distance, wondering why he was going so slow. You noticed after a while that he wasn’t heading for the garage—you weren’t sure where he was going until you recognized the familiar street signs from the neighborhood Steve and Robin lived in.

You turned your head lights off a few cars away, as he parked the bike crooked, and then he fell.

He just went right down flat, one half of his body on their lawn, and the other half still on the sidewalk.

“Eddie!” You yelled, slamming your car door. You were running now, panic lighting a fire in your veins. Something was very, very wrong.

You skidded to your knees once you got close to him, clutching at his big shoulders to try and roll him over.

“Eddie, Eddie? Baby? Are you okay? Eddie!” You turned him over so that his head flopped into your lap, and then you gasped at how pale his skin was. Pieces of his hair clung to a bleeding gash on his cheek, and as your hand went lower, you felt his blood-soaked shirt that not immediately visible at night in his dark clothing, and you caught the scent of a coppery tang.

There were no lights on in their house, but you didn’t think you could carry Eddie all by yourself, and you didn’t want to leave him alone to go and find a phone. “STEVE! ROBIN! HELP!” You checked his face just as his eyes fluttered open to look at you, his lips sticky as he said your name.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” you assured him, stoking hair back from his wet, clammy forehead, rocking him ever so softly. You sniffed back tears, “you’re gonna be okay, baby, I’m here. I’m here, baby, you’re doing good. Look at me.”

One of the lights snapped on in the house. “CALL AN AMBULANCE!” You screamed to whoever had just woken up. Across the street, someone else turned their lights on as well.

Eddie’s bloody hand grabbed your arm weakly as he struggled to talk, his voice a scratchy whisper. “No...no hospital,” he begged.

You stroked his hair and kept talking to him and by then, Robin and Steve were racing toward you from the house.

“Fuckfuckfuck fuck...Eddie! Man, what happened?” Steve bleated as he scanned Eddie’s body, his eyes blowing wide when he noticed the wound. “Was is the Reapers? The Villains? I’ll go fucking ape shit on their asses!” He exchanged a dire look with Robin that made you choke on your saliva and tears all at once. Steve took his shirt off and ordered for you to press it against the wound as hard as you could to help stop the bleeding.

The last thing Eddie saw before he blacked out completely was your face, and he was so out of it, that if he had been able to speak, he would’ve told you that he loved you before it was too late.

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

A woman they called Astrid showed up at the house not 20 minutes later; she was the only person Eddie and Steve trusted for such an occasion. Robin had to calm you down from mild hysterics though, while you washed Eddie’s blood off your hands in the sink, because you were worried that if they didn’t get him to the hospital that he would die. Eddie was on the sofa atop several blankets, drifting in and out of consciousness, white as a sheet. You had helped Steve bandage up his side as much as possible, but he had already lost so much blood.

Robin grabbed your shoulders, shaking you gently. “Listen, Astrid will take care of him, okay? We trust her. The boys have known her for a long time, she’s a healer. She patches up boys at the fights all the time.”

“Robin!” You whispered curtly, your bloodshot eyes filling with tears. “He needs medical attention, not lavender oil and a vinegar douche!”

You immediately apologized for raising your voice at her, but she understood.

When Astrid stepped in the front door on a sandalwood breeze, you instantly felt calmed by the confidence she exuded. She had long, black hair and honey-cinnamon skin, with dark almond eyes that seemed to hold knowledge that was somehow ancient. She had a freshly scrubbed, dewy look about her with minimal makeup, and she seemed to be a few years older than the boys; either in years or wisdom or both. She wore a long, flowing black dress with red stitching, a cream shawl, and a necklace with a sigil around her throat. She had a medical bag with her that looked like it was from the 1940’s, and Oliver ran out to hug her when she arrived, pushing his tiny face into her skirt. Steve hugged her too, and they exchanged a kiss on the mouth before everyone got out of her way so she could get to work figuring out what she was dealing with.

The whole group exhaled a ragged breath after she cleaned the wound announced that the knife only pierced his side and it hadn’t grazed any organs. He’d need stitches though, and apparently Astrid had the tools and the skill for all that. She had a whole chest full of tinctures and natural salves, as well as a stash of modern medicines like pain killers and antibiotics.

Robin used her eyes to plead with you to distract Oliver with some art projects as she did her best to corral him back to his room, and you were happy to oblige, but you kept coming out every so often to pace the living room to check on Eddie, who was as comfortable as he could be in a morphine haze. You let Katie know what was going on and she asked if she could help, so Astrid requested some extra gauze and bandages. Robin fell into Katie’s arms the second she stepped in the sliding glass door holding grocery bags, wearing cut-off jean shorts and one of Robin’s Sleater-Kinney t-shirts. Robin let go of a few sobs into her shoulder that she’d been holding in for Oliver’s sake.

At one point you came out to get a glass of water because Ollie was finally tucked in bed with droopy eyes and asking for Robin to read him a story, and you caught sight of Steve kissing the back of Astrid’s head and stroking her hair while she tended to Eddie’s cheek wound. He hovered near her every chance he got, and you wondered what was going on there.

“They’ve been close since Steve was a kid,” Robin whispered an answer to your thoughts from behind you in the kitchen, referring to Astrid and Steve. “Her mom and Wayne used to have a thing back in the day.”

----------

Steve was in the kitchen making coffee by the time Astrid packed her things up to leave. His worn Levi’s were cuffed at his heavy, black boots, and he had on a white t-shirt that was so thin, you could see the landscape of his tattooed skin underneath. The adrenaline of the evening was wearing off and everyone’s eyes were drooping, feet dragging.

“I’m going to close my eyes for an hour or two before I have to go to work,” Robin announced, standing up from the kitchen table. She turned to Katie and held her hand out, “come be my big spoon?”

You’d been waiting for hours to be able to touch Eddie and be close to him again, and you finally had your chance now that he was out of the woods, but just then, Astrid came around to greet you, her dark eyes bright and curious as they met yours.

“You must be the one,” she offered, her full lips pressing together in a dimpled smile. “The one who will heal his heart.”

You were about to greet her in a normal way, so her words took you off guard and made you stutter a bit. “Do I...have we met before?”

The two of you exchanged a handshake, and introduced yourselves. Astrid’s hands were soft but surprisingly strong.

“In dreams, perhaps,” she answered, as if it were a common place to meet people. There was a unique, ornate red ruby ring on her right ring finger. “But, also, Steve told me about you.”

“Oh,” you lowered your head shyly, honored that you’d be mentioned to such a trusted family friend. “Well, I’m pretty fond of all of them. They’re growing on me.”

Astrid came in close, searching your eyes with a soft lift of her mouth, holding her medical bag in front of her with both hands. “Be gentle with this one...he’s been waiting a long time for you. He’s thick-headed, but his heart has nothing but the best intentions.”

You didn’t have to ask to know she was talking about Eddie. You wondered what Astrid saw in her crystal ball about why he had lied to you and disrespected you in regards to the photo evidence of him being player of the year. You were struggling to find good intentions there. Alas, this was not the time or the place for your ego or hurt feelings; you would be grateful to Astrid for the rest of your life after how tirelessly she had worked to take care of Eddie, and you told her that.

Steve was waiting a few yards away at the mouth of the kitchen to walk Astrid out to her truck. You watched as he intertwined his fingers with hers and kissed her, holding her close as they walked, whispering words of affection in her ear.

Fade into You by Mazzy Star played low from the radio mounted under one of the cabinets in the kitchen as you were finally able to make your way across the living room to Eddie. Even though you were feeling a lot better about his prognosis than you had when you first found him, it was still hard to see the bandages and gauze wrapped around his belly. Astrid left some antibiotics and pain meds with instructions, and advised that he’d be in and out of sleep and a bit groggy for a while. He needed supervision to make sure he wasn’t getting a fever, and to keep the wound clean, but if he didn’t improve, a hospital would be necessary.

He had fresh linens beneath him, and the blood had been diligently sponged away from his skin. There was also a big sheet of painters plastic at the very bottom of the blankets to protect the couch and carpet. You stood above him for a few seconds to take it all in: his dark, wavy hair was fanned out over the Star Wars pillow case, and his mouth hung open a bit, lips slightly dry, eyelids closed, but you could see his eyeballs dancing on the inside as if he were in the middle of a lucid dream.

The area under his eye above where his cheek had been cut was all bruised, there were a couple stitches in his cheek, and your gaze trailed down the dark tattoos along his strong chest, arms, and stomach, landing on the bandaged area where the knife wound was on the left side, above his hip, cut into a large dragon tattoo with a spade tail that whipped out over his bellybutton. You knelt down and hovered your hand over the bandages, feeling the heat emanating from it as his body worked over time to repair the damage.

You watched his chest move up and down with each breath, and that was comforting to you, helping you to remember with each inhale that he was still with you. Some of his fingers were taped up; his knuckles red with bits of skin torn off. You leaned your stomach against the couch and took hold of his hand that was closest to you, pulling it to your mouth. You planted tender kisses onto each knuckle, and then to the tip of each fingertip. You had your eyes closed, holding the back of his hand to your cheek, when you felt his fingers reflexively clamp down onto yours, and you looked up to see that his eyes were open, just barely, long dark eyelashes fluttering.

“Baby?” He muttered, voice scratchy, lips barely moving. “You…okay?”

You swallowed hard smiled at him, and it was a smile removed of any pain or doubt or sadness; it was just pure happiness to hear his voice.

“I’m okay, Eddie,” you reassured him, even though you were unwilling to return the use of a pet name. “Don’t you worry about me, I just need you back on your feet.”

He looked like he was using every ounce of his strength to speak, his voice nothing but a rasp. “Baby...I’m sorry. I didn’t---”

You softly shushed him and stroked his jawline with your thumb as you held his hand. “It’s okay, it’s okay...shushhhh...just get better for me, that’s all I want. We’ll talk about it all later.”

Truly, things were not okay. But, there would be a time and a place to deal with all of that, and you were a patient woman. The saddest thing, the thing that twisted in your gut like stage fright, was the fact that—no matter how much you cared about this man, no matter how right it felt with him, there was no way you could be with someone you didn’t trust. Even if he confessed to whatever he did with those women and came clean, there would always be the lie—the lie would always exist, and you could forgive, but you would never forget.

His eyes drifted closed again, and in less than a minute, you felt his hand go limp in your grasp as his breathing returned to that of someone entering a deep sleep cycle. You stretched his arm carefully across his body, and sat there on your knees looking at him for a bit longer before you got to your feet.

When Steve got back from saying his goodbyes to Astrid, you asked him if he needed you to stay for a couple hours and look after Eddie so that he could take a nap. Steve was wide awake, though, and was about to have his fourth cup of coffee, and he asked when your shift at the Hammer was.

“Four,” you told him, checking the clock in the kitchen. “I should go check on my cat and eat something.”

Steve gave your outfit a look over his coffee cup. “And shower and change your clothes, maybe.”

You looked down, startled for some reason to see dried blood on your shirt and thigh of your jeans. You had washed your hands several times, but there was still remnants of Eddie’s blood in the moons around your cuticles and the crook of your elbow.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I think some of the bar patrons would kind of dig this look, actually.”

Steve snort-laughed at that, lip pulling up to expose his pearly whites with the exception of one gold incisor.

“But really,” you continued. “I can come by before work? Just call me if you need anything?”

Steve licked coffee from his lips. “Robin only works a few hours at the hotel, and Astrid will be checking in on him later. You go do your thing. You’ve done a lot already,” Steve tilted his head up on the inhale appraising you down the end of his nose. “Alls I can say is, Eddie’s a lucky man to have you in his corner.”

You bit your cheek and squeezed the defined muscles of his forearm in silent thanks as you walked by him.

“Oh, shit, wait,” Steve called to you, patting the pockets of his jeans as he turned to you with a look of concentration on his face. “That reminds me, some dude was asking about you at the bar yesterday. He left his card for you.”

“Oh?” Your mind raced trying to imagine who that could’ve been while Steve plucked the business card out of his back pocket.

“Yeah, he said you waited on him the other day. Older guy, sick blue eyes, like a comic book character.” Steve continued as he looked at the card and then passed it to you. “He said he bought a painting from you once and he wanted to commission another one.”

You stared at the card without breathing for a bit as your brain connected the man who had tipped you a hundred dollar bill with the name...John Gregson…

Was this really happening? Was he Charlene’s husband? Surely, that was too much of a coincidence. Maybe he was a brother-in-law or an entirely different family altogether. You didn’t know of any other wealthy Gregson’s in town, though, come to think of it.

“I figured you could use the cash, dude looked like he was loaded,” Steve continued, but you were having an out of body experience as you connected the dots.

Steve lowered his head to try and meet your gaze. “Is he cool? Or should I crack his head in next time I see him?”

You snapped out of it and shook your head. “No, this is great, Steve, you’re the best,” you held the card up. “I really appreciate this, you did good. Thank you.”

You didn’t want the chance of losing the card, so you stuck it in your bra as you took one final look at Eddie before exiting out the sliding door.

-----------

After his afternoon tennis match, John Gregson sat poolside under a yellow and white striped umbrella in his swim trunks while he read the paper. He’d hoped to enjoy some time alone, but it wasn’t long before he heard the clip-clop of Charlene’s heels on the cement as she approached him from the pool house. She had on a one-piece gold swimsuit that was low in the chest and high on the hips under a blue silk Kimono, and a wide brim straw hat. He did not acknowledge her when she sat down and continued to read his paper as he held it out in front of him.

A member of their staff followed Charlene to the table and she told them she wanted Perrier with lime as she brought out a nail file and started to work on her claws.

“Have you decided what you’re going to put in that big empty space on the wall in the den? It looks dreadful as it is.”

John licked his thumb and turned the page. “I do have something in mind, as a matter of fact. I’m having a piece of art commissioned for that space.”

Charlene stopped filing, her eyes darting up from her fingers. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

He finally turned so that her face was reflected in the mirror surface of his aviator sunglasses. “I’m telling you about it right now, Charlene.”

She put her nail file down on the table and sat back in her chair. “Which gallery are you commissioning it from? Because I promised Judith that I’d---”

“I’m not purchasing it from a gallery,” he interrupted, taking a sip of his iced coffee.

After 25 years together, what they had at that point was strictly a marriage of convenience. Convenient because Charlene would never make it on her own, and convenient for John because he had been nothing but a goofy, pussy-drunk kid when he married her, and hadn’t even considered a prenuptial agreement.

“Well,” Charlene intoned as a member of their staff brought her Perrier with ice in a glass and a straw. They poured it for her and it crackled in the glass. “I’d like to know what is going in there since I’ll be forced to look at it every day.”

“You rarely go into the den, Char,” he returned with a sigh, eyes scanning the pages.

John knew about Charlene’s other lovers and boyfriends; of course he knew, he wasn’t stupid. But it never bothered him because that meant he could do whatever he wanted, too, and he hadn’t had sex with Charlene in almost 5 years.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about this, John,” Charlene hissed across the table at him while she slipped her over-sized sunglasses on. “It’s just that I’m a big deal in the art community, and I think I should know who my husband is buying artwork from. I don’t want you to embarrass me.”

Calmly, John took another sip of his coffee. “I’ll tell you about it once she agrees to do it.”

“Cancel the commission, don’t go through with it. I’ll buy us a piece from---”

John slammed his fist down on the table, causing everything on the surface to jump, and two empty glasses fell and shattered. “Charlene! I don’t want to hear another word,” he pulled his sunglasses down his nose so that she could see his cold blue eyes, and he pointed a finger at her with each syllable to emphasize his point. “Do you understand me? Not one more goddamn word.”

Charlene’s eyes bulged behind her sunglasses.

“Telephone call for you, Mrs. Gregson,” a member of the staff interrupted, handing her a Motorolla flip phone with a big antennae.

“Yes?” Charlene frowned at John as she took the phone. Her face lit up when she realized who it was on the other end. She got to her feet, knocking her chair over, and didn’t stop to pick it up as she walked away.

She kept her voice low as she headed toward the rose garden, one hand on her hip. “I guess you got my message,” she paused while the man on the other end said a few things. “I have another job for you.”

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

You weren’t able to fit a tiny snooze in that day before work because your mind wouldn’t stop racing. You got in the car only to realize you had put eye shadow and mascara on one eye, but not the other, so, you had to go back in and fix that. When Katie got home, she let you know that Eddie had been up to use the restroom and he didn’t have a fever, which was all fantastic news.

Also, she said that he had been asking about you.

“He was still tired and drugged up, but every time he opened his eyes, he’d ask where you were and if you were okay,” Katie told you. Of course, you and Katie were still both under the impression that Eddie was a lying, cheating scoundrel, and so you were taking his yearning for you with a bittersweet grain of salt.

“Did you ask Robin about it? The other women, I mean?”

“Sorry, babes, I didn’t have time. She was running late and had to leave in a hurry. I’ll ask her if she knows anything tonight, though.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, but also—it was a very big deal. “As soon as we know that Eddie is completely on the mend, I’ll have a talk with him. I mean, the evidence is pretty damning, but he still deserves a chance to explain himself.”

Katie leaned over and put her elbows on the kitchen island, resting her chin on her fists. “Does any man deserve it?”

You threw your bag over your shoulder as you headed for the door. “Eddie does. I hope so, anyway.”

--------

Shana was behind the bar that night, and Steve would be bouncing later, and you felt comforted by the promise of friendly faces a midst feeling emotionally put through the ringer and perpetually on the verge of tears. You were mad at Eddie and still hurt, but also worried sick about him. The thought of losing him put you in a very dark head space. The song Tonight Tonight by The Smashing Pumpkins came on the jukebox and you thought you were going to drop a tray of drinks and start sobbing right there in the middle of the happy hour rush. The secondhand smoke was especially thick that night as you coughed into your arm and cleaned out the ashtrays at the bar.

You were chugging a Pepsi in the back room, telling one of the dancers how tired you were, and she very kindly offered you a line of blow, but you declined. On your way back out from your break, you spotted none other than Erika coming in the front door, and you cursed, taking a sharp inhale of breath, continuing on with your work, planning to ignore her for however long she was staying.

To your horror, she made eye contact with you, and she didn’t look like she was happy to see you, either, but still, she started walking over to the hallway where you were. She had on a pink glitter dress, a faux diamond studded choker, and clear, stiletto heels. She was with two other girls who were dressed similar, and you watched her wave them away to get a table.

God, you rolled your eyes internally, you did not want to be dealing with this right now. What was Erika coming over to do? Gloat? To remind you that she would always get a piece of Eddie, no matter how many promises he made you?

In a huff, you grabbed your tray and bolted to move around her, but she stepped in your way.

“I heard that Eddie got hurt. Is he gonna be alright?” She asked.

Dead ass? Really? You didn’t owe her any Eddie news. “I’m working, Erika, please get out of my way.”

“Listen, girlie,” Erika touched your arm, and you looked down at her hand as if it were covered in feces, and recoiled. “I know we don’t like each other, but there’s something I need to tell you. It’s really been fucking with me, because I do care about Eddie, no matter what you think.” She liked to jut her chin out from side to side for emphasis as she talked.

What was this bitch on about? Telling you how much she cared about Eddie? Was she for real?

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure in front of the other customers. “Erika, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of my face right now, I’m serious.”

She clucked her tongue and lifted her hands in surrender, letting you move passed her, but then she said: “Eddie was set up, okay?”

You froze; your entire body prickling with goose flesh.

Cautiously, you met her eyes again, a tremble on your parted lips, an ocean crashing in your ears.

“Did you get some photos of me at Eddie’s place?” she crossed her arms at her chest. “Yeah, well, he didn’t want me there, okay? Some guy paid me to go up to his apartment and force myself on him. Some scary lady named Charlene set it all up.”

You were listening, but you were also fading away.

“You gotta understand, I was mad at Eddie when I agreed to do it, but he’s always been good to me, and I wish I could take it back,” she continued.

Swaying on your feet, your vision became a pinwheel of color as you listened to her words, and then blackness closed in around your peripheral vision until it exploded in an electric burst. The next thing you knew, you were falling, and you hoped that the ground caught you before you tumbled in a free fall into outer space.

Part 10

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Thank you so much for those of you who have made it this far in the series, y'all make this world a joy to create, and I can't wait to see what it next for us ❤️

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