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pumpkinpiejack · 4 years ago

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A couple days ago I sent this ask to @lobotomycastiel and actually ended up writing it. It’s mainly about Dean, Claire, and baby Jack dealing with some of the pain of losing Cas.

You can also read it on AO3.

Three days.

Three days, Dean had been in charge of Jack. Three days since they found him smoldering the blankets on Kelly’s bed, sheets stained with blood. Three days since Dean had picked him up and refused to put him down.

Three days since Dean put Cas’s body on that pyre and watched it burn to nothing but ash and dust.

It stains everything he touches, streaks against Jack's baby pale skin, fingerprints on Sam’s clothes. The taste coating the back of his tongue. He can't escape it, can't drive fast enough to get rid of it. It lingers in the air around him and mocks him for his loss, but he still can’t seem to bring himself to wash it off.

Jack hasn't stopped crying since they lit the pyre. Dean prepared the body himself. He owed this to Cas after everything, to prepare his body right, to make sure his hands were gentle. He carried him out to the pyre too, a baby strapped to his chest, unnaturally quiet in the fading light of the sun.

Dean hadn't been able to finish it. His entire body stood curled around Jack, his face buried in the baby's soft hair as his hands shook so hard he couldn't light the match. He couldn't pour the salt, he couldn't hold the gas can.

His skin felt too tight for his body, like something was trying to escape, an animal in his chest scratching and clawing at the inside of his ribs and everything hurt.

Jack cries and he cries and he cries and Dean is thrown back into every shitty night on the road with Sam as a baby and he can't breathe. He remembers waking up at night to the same sound and curling up in a playpen that was far too small for both him and Sam. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to be able to help and make the crying stop.

But, the only time Jack stops is when Dean holds him and only when it's in a specific way. His tiny cheek needs to be pressed into Dean’s shoulder, just over Cas’s handprint and doesn't that just fucking hurt.

It aches in a whole new way, like he somehow senses Cas there.

The handprint itself has faded over the years. All the times he’s been healed and rebuilt from the inside out, and it is the only thing that remains. A discolored and slightly raised patch of skin that means more to him than any physical object on earth (besides his baby of course).

Three days. Two days to drive home and one day to prepare himself.

Sam made the call. Dean couldn't get Jack to stop crying long enough to do it himself, not without risking waking him up. Even with a day to prepare himself, it still wasn't nearly enough.

When Claire walks in it's like the floor falls out from underneath Dean’s feet. She’s a mess. Her eyes rimmed red, mascara and eyeliner streaking down her face and she looks like she drove straight through the night. Her hands shake, just like his as he hands Jack to Sam.

He holds him awkwardly, his hands too big, too unaccustomed to holding something so fragile. Dean could count the number of times Sam had held Jack on one hand. He couldn't be away from Dean for long or he would start crying, shrill shrieks that shake the very ground they stood on. Cries that cause the glass to rattle in its pane and nearly makes Dean’s ears bleed on more than one occasion.

“You look like a mess.”

“Says you.”

Touché. Dean hasn't slept either, hasn't showered, hasn't eaten. He drove 1,700 miles in two days, a crying baby strapped into his backseat the entire way. He knows he looks like shit. He still has ash smeared across his face, he can't seem to bring himself to wipe it away.

He can't bring himself to be far from Jack, can't stand him crying. He can't look at Jack, his eyes repeatedly drawn to the blue that is so familiar and so foreign all at once. He can't light a match. He can't think about his mom. He can't admit Cas is….

There's a lot he can't do right now.

Claire’s voice is quiet. It’s calm in all the ways that Dean knows that she isn't. He can see the rage boiling under the surface. The sadness, the grief all tangled into a little ball, locked away so deep inside of her that the only place it was visible was her eyes.

She tries to stay strong, but she still looks around as if she’s missing something, because the truth is, she is. She looks around the room searching for the same figure that he does every time he enters a room and they’ll never find it. Not now and never again.

He turns to tell Cas a joke, and he’s not there. He’ll see a blurry image of tan and black out of the corner of his eye and reach out with Jack, a mumbled thank god under his breath, but there’s never anyone there.

He’s just alone as she is, even with three other people in the room.

And then the dam breaks.

“How could you?” Dean keeps looking at her. He owes her that. He looks her in the eye and listens, because he owes her that. He watches as they fill with tears and, god, hers are the same as Jack’s. So similar but not quite right. Almost everything he could ever want and his chest burns.

Cas never cried, even when he was dying on the floor of that barn, black ooze streaming out of his mouth, skin rotting and flaking up the side of his neck, he didn't cry. He just looked at Dean with those blue eyes and told him he loved him, that he loved all of them.

They never got to talk about it.

“You were supposed to keep him safe!” Her voice breaks as she launches herself at him, her fists smacking against his chest, but he can't really feel it. Over and over and over she drives the side of her fist into his chest. Like a little kid throwing a tantrum. He makes no move to stop her, to grab her hands and still them. He just lets her. I owe her this, I deserve this. “You promised me you would keep him safe,” and all at once her anger is gone, washed away with her tears as she leans her head against his chest and she sobs. “How could you?”

Finally, Dean moves. He places a hand on the back of her head, careful of any indication that she didn't want to be touched, but she just leans in farther, collapses into his chest and sobs harder.

She’s so small, so young despite her fiery disposition, he could tuck her perfectly under his chin. Dean remembers feeling on top of the world at her age. Twenty years old and suddenly he could rule the world, tear it all down from the ground up and rebuild it in his own image if he wanted. But here she is, a perfect mirror of him and all he sees is a scared little kid.

He can hear Jack crying in the background, having reached his limit of being away from Dean.

Eventually, she pulls away, shoving him and turning to where Sam is holding Jack uncomfortably. Claire smears her makeup farther down her face. There is still anger in her eyes and part of it scares him. It was the same anger he had held the first time he laid eyes on Jack.

Part of him wanted to leave him there. Part of him wanted to do what he originally planned when he walked into that house gun in hand, but he knows he never would. Jack wasn't a monster. He wasn't anything more than a baby. He cried and screamed and had the tiniest hands and the bluest eyes and even just looking at him made Dean’s heart soften.

Something like that couldn't be a monster anymore than Sam could, or little Bobby John.

So, instead, he scooped Jack up, the baby's skin burning his own, a tiny handprint searing itself onto the skin of his left forearm.

“He looks like Cas.” Claire laughs, but it sounds more like a sob than anything. Jack seems to quiet as she draws closer, his blue eyes widening as he takes her in. He’s so small in Sam's arms, blinking and whimpering as his crying petered down to nothing.

“Yeah he does.” Dean’s voice is rough as he reaches out to take Jack from Sam’s arms.

Sam is looking at the two of them, his eyes flickering between them as if it was a tennis match, a furrow between his brows. He is probably just as confused as Dean is.

Jack doesn't just stop crying. He either cries so much that he passes out or Dean spends hours with him pressed against the last fading remnants of the handprint, humming and rocking him. To see him just fade off while still awake was damn near a miracle.

Claire collapses in one of the chairs around the radar and holds out her arms expectantly.

“Come on, then.” Dean lets out a huff of laughter, or something as close to it as he's gotten since everything. He moves closer with Jack in his arms and slides him into Claire’s. Jack coos and waves his hands around. It's the uncontrolled movements of a newborn, more of a muscle spasm than anything, and Claire snorts out another little laugh as he accidentally smacks her collarbone.

“He’s so calm.” Sam's voice is awed.

Dean is right there with him, Jack isn't crying, he isn't uncomfortable. For the first time, he seems almost happy. He curls closer to her and lets out the tiniest yawn, his eyes crunching closed. Claire looks mesmerized. She gives Jack her fingers and he wraps his whole hand around them.

“I'm staying.” Claire says suddenly, eyes still locked with Jack’s. She can't seem to look away and neither can he.

“Okay.” And it’s as simple as that.

Three days. 84 hours, with no more sleep than a cat nap here and there and yet he still couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Every time he tries, he manages to get five steps away from Jack’s bassinet before he starts to scream and he couldn't exactly sleep with the baby on him, not when he could wake up from a nightmare fighting.

So he wanders the bunker. Up and down through the levels, crisscrossing through the hallways. Jack is tucked up against his shoulder like always. The thumb of the handprint brushes against his cheek in the mockery of a caress. He’s whimpering slightly, but at the very least he hasn’t completely started crying yet.

Dean reaches the kitchen only to find it already occupied. Claire is perched on the counter, a beer in one hand and the other wiping away another round of tears. Dean debates leaving her there, but finds that he can’t.

He’s been there more than a handful of times and during each one he was constantly torn between wanting to be left the fuck alone and wanting someone to notice. He wanted someone to realize that he wasn’t doing okay, to sit there with him as he broke apart. He never wanted to talk, didn’t want to cry in front of them, but realizing that someone cared enough to notice his downward spiral always seemed to help in its own fucked up way.

So, Dean pulls the bottle from her loose fingertips and puts on a pot of coffee. Claire makes grabby-hands at him until he relents, handing over Jack who just coos and twines his hands into her leather jacket. Well, Dean’s leather jacket. The same one she had snagged from his closet not too long ago, as if he wouldn’t notice. Jack immediately falls more silent than he’s been all day, his eyes sliding shut with another yawn that is far too big for his tiny body.

She’s so good with him already, her hands gentle as they shush him.

Claire thinks her hands are made for violence, for torture, for killing, for hunting. She thinks that’s all they’ll ever really be good for. She’s a predator, a soldier, made for a war that she didn’t know existed until it ruined her life. But those hands are also for protecting, for comforting, for saving.

She is good, at her core. Gentle and loving and all of Dean and Cas and Sam and Jody and Donna’s good traits all mixed into one girl who stands before him. A better person than he’ll ever be.

She’s stolen his bad traits too, the same way she stole that jacket. Put it on as a layer of protection against the world. It’s too big for her, doesn’t fit quite right, because it’s not hers and it’s not Dean’s either. It was too big for Dean too when he first put it on 20 years ago and he doesn’t know if he ever actually grew into it, or just thinks he did.

Together, they sit, shoulder to shoulder and don't say anything and that’s enough for the both of them. They drink their coffee until they can blame their shaking hands on that and listen to Jack’s even breathing.

Dean doesn’t move, even as Claire rests her head against his shoulder, the same shoulder Jack does, and he feels the tears soak in.

Four days. 96 hours and Jack finally manages to fall asleep without crying.

Nine days.

Nine days and he’s barely surviving. He can’t move, he can’t breathe, he can’t exist without something tearing at him from the inside out. But, he continues on anyway.

So many things he can’t do. So many contradictions that have slowly become his life.

Claire and him have a system. They work like a machine, two parts of the same person. They don’t look at each other, they can’t. Dean sees all the ways she looks like Cas, all the ways she looks like him, and she sees all the ways he’s failed her.

But they work together, anyway, for Jack.

And that scares him too.

It’s hard to see her with him and not see himself reflected back. He was a lot younger when he first had to learn how to change a diaper or make a bottle but she’s still too young to have that responsibility thrown onto her.

Claire takes to it like she takes to everything else: a fake grin that he can spot from a mile away and a sly joke.

She pours formula into the bottle and he gets his bath ready and at night they sit together on the counter and they watch over Jack. On the nights they manage to sleep he can hear her sneak into his room and pass out in the chair closest to Jack’s bassinet. Four hours later, he guides her into the bed and takes up her spot.

It never fails to make him feel like shit when she steals Jack’s from his hands. Makes him feel like John.

Dean doesn’t tell Sam this, but he somehow knows, the same way he always does.

Sam looks at him as he looks at Claire and marches up to him with a furrow in his brow and Dean knows that he’s not going to like whatever comes out of Sam’s mouth next.

“Can we talk?”

“No.” Sam gives him a harsh look and grabs his arm, dragging him out of the room anyway, down the hall and around the corner so their voices won’t travel.

“Sam, I said no.” Dean doesn’t even have the strength to pull his arm out of Sam’s grip, he’s just so tired.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” Sam leans against the wall across from him, his hands open by his side, his shoulders slouched. “Look at me, Dean, you need to let Claire help you.”

“I have.”

“No you haven’t.” Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Dean really wants to take a pair of clippers to it. “She helps you, but you don’t let her.”

“Well, maybe it’s because it’s not her responsibility.” Dean crosses his arms, feet squared, even as he sways slightly.

“And it’s somehow yours? Dean, we were all friends with Cas.”

Were, were, were. Past tense, always past tense because Cas is gone. He’s not coming back, he’s ash and bone on a beach 20 hours away, and Dean took a shower but he can still somehow taste it on the back of his throat. His burns sting when he moves his hands. The handprint of his forearm reminds him of the one on his shoulder and he can’t breathe.

“Yes.” Dean chokes out. “Yes. He’s my responsibility and I’m not going to push that onto someone else just because I want to drink or sleep or go on a hunt.”

Dean watches as Sam’s entire face goes blank. He shuts down for a moment before coming back to life all at once, like a computer rebooting itself after it’s been overloaded.

“Dean.” It’s Sam’s turn to choke out the word. “Dean you're not dad.” Dean bolts upright and suddenly wants to punch something. He wants to scream and yell and feel the crunch of wood and bone under his feet.

He doesn’t even have the excuse of the Mark of Cain this time. Just his own shitty emotions getting the better of him.

“I’m not talking about this.”

“Yes we are.” Sam catches Dean's sleeve and Dean nearly socks him on principle. “Dean letting people help you isn't bad, that’s what new parents do. Claire isn’t four, she can choose whether she wants to help or not and right now she wants to help. So let her.”

Dean knows. He knows for as much as Claire acts like him, she isn’t him, but it’s hard to divorce the two ideas when he looks at her everyday and sees a mirror.

She’s been getting more frustrated over the week because Dean won’t let her help. She has to push her way through him in order to do anything useful. Dean can’t stop her from staying awake but he can make sure that he gets everything done before she does so she doesn��t have to.

Dean doesn’t want Claire to feel like she needs to help just because she can calm Jack down. She deserves to have her own life. To go out and hunt and have fun if she wants to and not have to take care of a newborn that is needier than most. But no matter what he does, she’s still right there next to him, trying to help in any way she can.

Dean rips his arm out of Sam’s grip and marches back to where Claire is holding a whimpering Jack. His eyes glow gold ever so often, but she just shushes him with a kiss on the forehead.

Claire already loves that kid. Loves him enough that she would put his life before hers. And you know what? Dean can’t even bring himself to blame her when he made the same choice at four.

Dean collapses into the chair next to her and reaches out to grab him.

“Do you want to go get his bottle ready while I try to keep him settled?” The smile she sends his way is worth more than anything.

“So I’ve been trying to find out why you two, in particular, calm Jack down so much.” Sam’s voice echoed through the bunker, breaking the suffocating silence they’ve been in for so long. He stares at the two perched in their usual spot on the counter, a single mug of coffee teetering between them, lipstick smears on one side.

They look like shit.

In sync they give him a raised eyebrow. Claire passes Jack over to Dean, the baby snuffling in his sleep, and snatches the coffee cup from his hand. She makes sure to twist it before taking a drink, lining up with the lipstick mark already there.

“Well back when that whole thing happened like four years back, we found out that angels leave a bit of grace behind.”

No.

“And that handprint was a direct tie from soul to grace.”

No.

“I think he’s reacting to Cas’s grace that remains inside of you. He obviously bonded with Cas before he was even born you remember the park as well as I do. It must calm him down, since Cas isn’t-”

Claire bolts up and Dean sees the coffee cup tip in slow motion, spilling down to the floor with a crash. She’s angry.

She’s so fucking angry it’s like looking in a mirror.

Dean can’t even blame her when she leaves. Walks right out of the kitchen and he can hear the front door slam echoing throughout the entire bunker. He’s just as mad. He wants to rage, he wants to throw the mug against the wall, he wants to scream because Cas left.

He left them with a kid and a piece of himself embedded underneath Dean’s skin that he can never get out. And he left.

He’s gone, turned to ash and dust on the wind and never coming back. No begging and pleading and praying will help them this time. It won’t get him back, it won’t get this piece of Cas under his skin out.

All he gets is the shitty consolation prize of a piece of his best friend's soul under his skin and the grief that keeps him on the teetering edge of insanity. All he gets is his family more broken than before and apparently a connection to a twenty year old who would sooner wish him dead than help her.

All he gets is flashes of something familiar out of the corner of his eye that disappears as soon as he turns and a lingering figure standing behind him in the mirror. Dean has stopped reacting to it. He’s stopped spinning wildly at the sight only to find no one there, he finds he can’t take the disappointment, the heartbreak.

But instead, he chases Claire out the front door, because honestly he can’t take another loss. Not right now.

Jack is still in his arms, working himself up into crying as Claire gets further away.

They catch up to her halfway down the road, her shoulders shaking with the force of holding back her sobs.

“Claire, stop.” Dean calls out and she stops walking but doesn’t turn. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She nearly shouts it, somehow curling in on herself farther. “It’s not okay. It’s always something new and I can’t.”

“Claire-”

“Don’t look at me.” Claire begs and Dean gets it. He does want anyone to see him cry either so he turns around and presses his lips into Jack’s hair.

“I just-” Claire starts and stops like a car sputtering to life and he can hear her growing more frustrated with every breath. “I keep-” Finally she breaks and lunges forward. Dean thinks she’s going to start hitting him again, like the first day she showed up, but she just rests her forehead between his shoulder blades.

“I keep losing everything.” Claire starts. “I lost my dad for a year and then he comes back and I lose him again and this time it’s my fault.” Dean doesn’t interrupt but he wants to tell her it’s okay. That none of this is her fault. That it was his, and Sam’s, and Cas’s but not hers. Never hers. “My dad wanted to protect me so he let Cas in again and now he’s dead and my mom couldn’t even look at me. She blamed me, I could tell. If I had just said no- but, she left too and now she’s dead. And Randy is dead and now Cas is dead too and I keep losing.” She’s sobbing now, her arms tucked up between her chest and Dean’s back. He’s tempted to turn around, but she doesn’t seem to be done.

“Every time I have Jack it’s like suddenly I’m okay, like I’m whole again. I feel like he’s not actually gone, like I’ll turn around and he’ll be there, the stupid look on his face.” She presses closer, and gently knocks her head into his back over and over again. “And now I know it’s not even because of me, I’m not getting better. It’s just this piece of grace still in me that’s making me think that way and I can’t. I just ca-”

“I know.” Dean finally spins and tucks her under his chin. Jack is squished between them, his eyes glowing gold in the fading light of the sun. They’d have to get back inside soon or he’d get cold. But for now, he just holds the two of them close. She tucks herself impossibly closer, her hands gripping the back of his shirt like a lifeline. “Trust me I know. My dad made a deal to protect me and I still haven’t forgiven him to this day, even though I’ve done the same for Sammy more times than I’d like to admit.”

“That guilt never goes away.” He admits, and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. He wishes Charlie where here. She always seemed to know what to do. “You’ll never forget the people who have sacrificed themselves for you. You’ll love them and hate them and want them back and never want to see them again and it’ll always be confusing.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better.” She laughs and it’s one of the best sounds in the world. It makes the knot in Dean’s chest unclench just a fraction so he can laugh back.

“Yeah I am, because we’ll figure it out together. You have us now and if anyone knows about survivors guilt it me and Sam.” Claire let’s out another laugh and Dean presses another kiss to her head before pulling away. “Come on we have to get back inside before it gets too cold for him.” Claire nods and wipes away the majority of her tear tracks before making the same grabby hands she always does.

Dean slides Jack into her arms and pulls her in for another hug.

“Together?” He makes a sweeping gesture back to the bunker and she snorts.

“Together.”

#baby jack truthing #my writing #Dean Winchester #claire novak #sam winchester #widower arc #I had a lot of fun writing this #helped me avoid my micro bio hw lmao #I’ve been thinking of writing the scene where they pick Cas up in this au too but also who knows #I need to write something besides baby jack #I have a problem #my post #ALSO!!!#HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESS!!!#I wish I would have known I could have written or drawn you something special :(

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rosesvioletshardy · 4 years ago

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tummy love - b.h.

i stayed up all night finishing this so i’m not sure if it’s good or not

also the reason why it took me a while to finish it was because of the pixie trailer and i spent all night thinking about it

masterlist

warnings: a little angst

# of words: 2,157

---

Everyone knew that women always felt uncomfortable with their bodies and never took it on as a men’s issue as well. People have been either losing weight or gaining weight since the start of the year and it’s different for everyone. Ben has always cared for his body and if they asked him to lose weight and have a six pack for film he would do it. Always staying in shape and eating healthy until filming was over. Even after, he would try and stay in shape by going to the gym every other day or so.

He didn’t have any projects where they required him to be shirtless since bohemian rhapsody with a couple of his outfits he wore as Roger but other than that nothing. Now he was back in his apartment with his girlfriend about to leave for vacation with their friends. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were going to be doing the entire time they were there or what the weather was going to be like so he packed extra just in case. He saw her pack up all her necessities and wondered how he managed to get someone so beautiful that no one else could compare.

“You’re staring again.” she told him not even looking up but still feeling his eyes on her

“Well i can’t help that there is someone so beautiful and gorgeous standing near me.” he told her as he walked over to give her a kiss on her neck

“Stop, if anyone’s gorgeous it’s you.” she said turning around to kiss his lips causing him to turn red after her comment

“What time did they say to be there by?”

“Rami said that he and lucy will come here around noon and we’ll drive to the airport together. We deserve this. We’ve all been working so hard and you finally get to relax after working so hard.”

The next couple of hours were spent finishing packing while they hung around and waiting for the taxi to arrive. Throughout those hours Ben couldn’t help but wonder if she was only with him for his body and money. He knew that it was wrong of him to think that way but sometimes he lets his mind wander as he looked over at her chatting with their two friends. It went on like that for a few more hours until they finally landed at their destination in croatia. The warm weather hit their skin as they landed and met up with Gwilym and Joe seeing that they had been there a day before the rest of them. When they got to the house, they saw how beautiful it was from the outside and how it was even more on the inside. Rami and Lucy went to their room, while Ben and Y/N went to another and began unpacking. Everyone had decided to go to dinner seeing that it was the evening time and they won’t be able to go to the beach until the next day. That’s something they were both worried about. Both Y/N and Ben haven’t been themselves with and liking their bodies recently but they didn’t want to tell each other and ruin the vacation even though they had told each other they would be honest with each other.

The next morning, they had felt so much better and relaxed for a bit since they had got to sleep in for a bit after a night of dinner and some drinking. When they had gone downstairs, they had realized they were the only awake at the moment and decided to make breakfast for everyone before they decided to go to the beach. The beach. That meant it would require the both of them to be in their suits with everyone to sleep. Ben didn’t feel comfortable without his shirt and was the reason why he had been sleeping with one rather than being shirtless like he was before.

“Morning everyone.” he said pouring the coffee as they all came down to the kitchen as Y/N set the last of the food down onto the table

“This looks so good, you really shouldn’t have.” Lucy said as she sat down

“Seriously. I feel so lucky to be friends with you both. No one could ever compare to what you guys make.” joe said taking a seat and pouring some eggs onto his place

“So what are we doing today, what’s on the agenda?” ben asked

“Well after breakfast, Y/N and I were thinking about going to go shop around a bit, you guys can come with or hang around, then we all could go to the beach?” lucy asked grabbing some toast

“Yeah, I like that. It sounds like a good plan.” gwilym said as everyone agreed and continued to eat

Lucy and Y/N took in the sun as they walked around the city before walking into another store. It was their fifth store already and the guys were back at the house waiting for them to come back before the sun set. As they bought the last few items, they talked and laughed before entering the house to see the guys all laying around waiting for the girls as they heard their laughter

“Finally you’re here. How was shopping?” Ben asked as they all got up to help them bring in the bags they had

“It was great. I told myself I was going to spend much but I couldn’t help myself. Oh and Ben I got you some stuff as well that I think you’re going to like” Y/N told him excitedly as they went to go drop their stuff off in their room. Ben couldn’t help but smile and worry at the same time about what she got him because he wasn’t if it were going to fit him or look good on him like everything else he had but he tried to ignore the feeling.

“Really? What’d you get?”

“That’s a surprise for later. Come on, let’s go have a fun day at the beach.” she said kissing on the cheek smiling and taking his hand and pulling him to the others

“Okay are we all ready to go?” rami said clapping his hands together

Everyone nodded and grabbed all the supplies that they had gathered and left the door. They decided to walk to the beach rather than drive because the weather was nice and they wanted to take in everything that they were seeing. Ben’s hand never left hers and she began to notice that his finger was starting to tap against her fist. Y/N immediately knew that something was wrong and looked over to him and gave him a look. He brushed it off and said that he was fine, when she knew he wasn’t and something was bothering him.

It felt like they were having the time of their lives and it was exactly what they needed. After tanning for a bit, Y/N had brushed off any excess said that got stuck to her and went towards the water.

“Babe, you want to come in the water with me?”

“No, I'm fine here, you go ahead. I might join later.” Ben told her while putting his book down to focus his attention on her while he sat under the umbrella. She looked at him for a bit before walking towards him and crouched down and took his hands

“You okay? You’ve been a bit on edge since we’ve came here and for the past couple months as well”

“Yeah i think it’s just that I get to relax for a long time before going back since it’s never happened before.” he told her shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Y/N just stared at him for a bit trying to see if he was hiding something but she couldn’t tell exactly what it was

“Okay, I just want you to have some fun. You deserve it. I love you.” she finished while giving him a small peck

“I love you.”

He watched as she walked towards the ocean and took in the way she looked when she walked and started to think about how much he loved her. At first she freaked out about how cold the water was causing him to giggle and shake his head as they looked at each other. She started to talk to Gwilym and began to think about whether she would leave him for Gwilym and saw how they got along. Shaking the thoughts away from his head, he went back to reading his book

After a while she went back to her spot next to Lucy and sat down to dry off a bit, while Ben, Rami, Joe, and Gwilym tried to play soccer in the sand

“Has Ben seemed a little off to you?” she asked lucy putting her sunglasses on

“A little, like he seems more self aware and a little jumpy. Is something wrong with the two of you?”

“No, but he does seem more a bit secretive and I can tell he’s keeping something from me.”

“Maybe he’s going to propose?”

“Maybe” Y/N said looking back at him and seeing him laughing with his friends

Nighttime came around and they all went back to the house and got ready for a night out in the town. They felt a sense of deja vu as they were in the same positions before they went to the beach. As she finished putting on her shoes, she took a deep breath and walked over to ben and stood behind him as he looked at himself in the mirror

“Ben, i want you to be honest with me. You have been secretive for the longest time and I don’t want to sound like a really clingy, jealous, overprotective girlfriend and-” she started by saying before he kissed her

“Y/N, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry like you are now, but I’m not hiding anything. It’s just since--for the past few months, I haven’t felt like myself physically and mentally. It felt weird to not be able to go to the gym every week and i’ve felt like I've gained a tummy from the weight gain and because of it you were going to leave me. I mean I saw you talking to Gwil earlier when you were in the ocean and he looked really fit and in shape and I just felt like shit. And you. You look so beautiful naturally and I have to stay in shape just to make sure that I look good enough to get roles. That’s why I stopped sleeping shirtless, why I wouldn’t take my shirt off at the beach and why my clothes have been a little baggier.” he confessed looking at his hands.

Y/N looked at him in silence before she took his hand and lifted his head so they were looking at each other.

“Listen, i love you ben. I don’t care whether you have a 6 pack or if you have a tummy. It’s completely normal. I don’t like Gwil and I only think of him as a brother. We were actually talking about The Great because I had a few questions that I was a little confused about and I finally got the time to ask him. I love you for you. Yes, you may have a great body, but I fell in love with the person who has it. I love all the little things you do like the way you stand when you’re trying to look for something to wear or the way you can immediately light up a room when you walk into it. If you want, you can start working out again when we get home or you can’t. The bottom line is, I still love you for you, and I just want you to be healthy and full of love. I have no eyes on any other man besides you benjamin jones.” she told him caressing the side of his face

“Now, our friends are waiting for us downstairs. So let’s go get shitfaced and immediately regret the next day.” Y/N finished taking his hand as they both got up and walked out of their bedroom.

“Took you guys long enough, we were about to leave without you.”

“Yeah we were just talking about everything that’s happened and got distracted” ben said as he smiled at his girlfriend. Lucy looked over to her and smiled seeing that they finally got to talk it out.

“Okay if anyone else has anything to say, say it now or forever hold your piece because the night is still young and I have a lot of energy to burn on the dance floor.” Joe said

“Okay, okay let’s go then” rami said opening the door for them to all pile out

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caiuscassiuss · 5 years ago

Text

Homecoming (M)

Pairing: NCT Johnny ♡ Female!Reader

Description: When a high school reunion drags you back from the bustling city to your hometown, you can’t help but feel inadequate compared your friends’ settled lives, who have thing you want most— kids. You may get your most desperate wish when your long-lost best friend sweeps into town, not quite the introverted nerd he was from 10 years ago.

Genre: high school reunion au smut | romance WC: 16k Warnings: graphic smut (Dom! Johnny + Sub! Reader, dirty talk, !!!pregnancy kink!!!, unprotected sex, oral sex, rough sex, bulge kink, slight exhibitionism, footsie, slight cum eating, overstimulation), mentions of adultery

(A/N: I’m dedicating this fic to my bestie, my Ten to my Taeyong, my vanilla bean to my weird kinky shit: @kookyong. Thank you so much for supporting me through the creation of this fic and cheering me on when I felt down. Also, fuck you, you stole my idea of dedication before I even told you. Also, a huge thanks to @lovingyong for beta-ing a part of this story and providing such great feedback! I’d also like to thank @galaxybeeji and @aveluant1a for helping me translate some Korean.)

Also, please don’t have unprotected sex and stay safe.

A sigh leaves your lips as you sip at your beer, basking in the electronic light of your phone in the dim, crowded bar. You started reaching over for another fry in the basket, but as you looked up from your phone you noticed there was less than a fourth of the fries remaining.

Apparently, you were steadily but surely devouring the fry basket no one had touched.

Truly, you had no idea why you were here, sitting alone in a dark booth, watching your co-workers slowly lose their inhibitions as the night went on. The little get together your coworkers made took over the whole bar, filling it with laughter and yells all around.

You scrolled through more pictures of your friends’ perfect family lives, each photo of a white-picket house they were moving into or the welcoming their new child slowly piled weight onto your chest. While you have never been claustrophobic, you felt the walls and the people of this little dingy bar on 43rd street close in on you like a vice.

Scooting out of the booth, you stayed to the sides of the crowded room while attempting to navigate groups of tipsy adults. You inwardly cringed of how much you stood out, a dark spot staining the convivial atmosphere.

“Y/N?”

You whipped around wide-eyed to see Sara standing behind you, a slight sloppy smile plastered to her face as your middle-aged co-workers stared at her unabashedly. Young, beautiful, vivacious— Sara was the office catch, in her red slip and heels. She was dressed to kill.

“Hey! Sara,” you said awkwardly, twiddling with the flap of your purse. Even standing in your best slinky dress in front of her, you felt like a washed out, pale imitation of her.

“Where are you off to? The party just started!” she giggled, the shimmery sequins of her dress sparkling along with her smile.

You quickly tried to formulate a valid excuse. “I actually—”

A loud ring came from your cell phone, vibrating against your thigh.

“I just need to step out real quick to answer this call,” you smiled softly, hoping to convey you needed to take this urgent call as quickly as possible.

“Well, okay,” she pouted. You motioned to step out but a soft hand on your arm stopped you.

Turning back to Sara, she looked unusually serious as she gripped your arm slightly.

“Y/N, have some fun here, alright? You work so hard, you deserve a night out. Especially since you’re all alone-”

What you hoped was a smile was plastered to your face as you shook yourself out of her grip, your small “thanks” murmured into a loud bar unheard as you stepped out.

“Cynthia?” you asked into the phone, sitting on a chair on the terrace.

“Y/N! Oh my god, girl, how are you?” your high school friend squealed into the phone.

Wondering how she could be awake at this time as a new mom, you quickly realized she was a few hours behind New York time.

“Hey yourself, I’m doing well. How about you?” you asked softly.

“I’m doing well! I just had to tell you about Ryland! Our new son, remember? So-”

As she gushed over the first words of her newborn baby, you hummed and agreed at the appropriate moments. You marveled at how much she had changed since your high school days. This was a big difference from the wild girl from high school you knew, the girl with sharp cheekbones with an even sharper wit. Now, in her profile pictures she was rounded and aglow from the joys of motherhood. Your hand slowly rose to meet where your eye and cheekbone met, feeling the flesh that lay there. You had no laugh lines.

“-invitation?”

“Huh?” you asked, shaking out of your stupor.

Cynthia huffed. “Sily, I said did you get my invite on Facebook?”

“No,” you said plainly. You were lying, of course. You had seen the invite, but you scrolled past without even looking at the title.

A groan resounded from the phone. “Y/N, what am I supposed to do with you? God, it’s an invite to our high school reunion!”

Immediately, you wanted to say no. Like, hell no, but you thankfully held your tongue.

“Oh, really? That’s great, Cynthia, but I’m afraid I can’t go—”

“Wait! I haven’t even mentioned the date! It’s a few weeks from now, and you just have to go! Everyone does!”

Truthfully, you had no desire to go back to your old town and see your friends’ perfect families and their perfect kids, their perfect domestic lives. Your high school reunion was always popular with alumni as an event to flaunt how much they were making, how gorgeous their significant other was, how adorable their kids were. It was all one big clusterfuck of gossip and arrogance— not endearing at the slightest.

“Everyone misses you, Y/N. I know I do.”

“I miss you too but I don’t know, I’m really busy with work—”

“Shut up, Y/N. You’re just using that as an excuse since you’re too scared to face everyone.”

Ah, there’s her sharp riposte. Her wit had not dulled with her age, it seems.

“Cynthia—” you stuttered, unable to reply to her retort.

“You bet your ass I will fly out to New York, find you in that concrete jungle then drag you back to attend this goddamn reunion.”

“...I’ll see,” you relented.

“Great! So—” a baby’s cry resounded in the background. “Oh my gosh, I have to go to Ryland now! I’ll text you the details later, bye bye!”

The dark screen of your phone stared back at you as she hung up on you. You could only pray to some higher being this reunion wouldn’t turn out badly.

The skyline of your hometown was unfamiliar to you.

There were a few shadows added, maybe some missing, maybe not. It is not the familiar curves and dips you always used to see when you glanced out your bedroom window.

Even passing through the main part of the town itself, it was so surreal. There were so many new buildings of glass and concrete that juxtaposed the old timey feel of the main street. New signs, new roads, new people passed by you in your Lyft ride.

You had to stop yourself from wondering over the town when you saw your breath fog up the windshield and you hastily jerked back. You hoped the driver didn’t see you looking like an excited 8 year old.

As the car slowly turned into your parent’s neighborhood, a wave of pure nostalgia hit you like a truck. As your eyes traced over the familiar houses on your street, a whole flood of innocent, child-like memories came back to you. All the times playing ball in the street with your neighbor, or even waiting nervously at the bus stop for the first day of school— long forgotten things from your past rose up.

Memories of tanned skin and wide smiles filled your memory, and you felt a pang with in your heart.

Johnny Suh.

“Uhm, ma’am? We’re here?”

You were shaken out of your memories but the sound of the Lyft driver looking at you nervously through his rearview window.

“Oh, sorry sir! Thank you for the ride.”

Your two heavy suitcases rolled behind you as you strolled through your parents’ large driveway, and your heart started to beat nervously as you saw the front door slowly getting larger.

Hands trembling, you rung the doorbell and stared into the cloudy glass.

You heard flurry of footsteps pitter patter to the front, and you thought you were prepared when your mother opened front door, but turns out you weren’t.

“Y/N?”

Your mother looked as beautiful as ever, the crow lines underneath her eyes and the wisps of grey in her hair looking gorgeous. You haven’t seen her in years, and you could feel a gathering of tears in your waterline.

“Mommy,” you said, choking up a bit towards the end.

“My darling girl? My sweetheart? You’re here?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Y/D/N, come! Y/N is back!”

As your dad came tearing down the hall and his eyes focused on you, you saw his old eyes brighten and fill up with tears.

“My little turtle?”

“Hi daddy!” you smile weakly, giving a little wave.

“Come and give your dad a hug! I haven’t seen you in so long!”

As you rested in the embrace of your mother and father, you thought that maybe coming home wasn’t so bad at all.

The afternoon sun beat down upon your bare shoulders, your wide-brimmed boater hat offering no respite.

You could only drink your ice-cold lemonade in hopes of cooling down and not feeling like a sweaty rat, fanning yourself with a menu and looking over the balcony.

“—and Ryland goes “I wanna pear, mommy!” and then Callie says ,”Ryland, that’s a potato.” It was a mango!”

Cynthia cracked up laughing, and you let out a few peals of laughter so as to not seem awkward. Every time Cynthia mentioned her darling kids, a burning jealousy gripped your heart until you could only see green. You truly wish you could enjoy your friends’ stories about how her kids could say the darndest things, but it only increased your yearning for kids tenfold.

“Well, enough about my life. How’s your job in the Big Apple? You’re one of those white collar types now, aren’t you?”

You sipped at the lemonade, wishing it was something much stronger. Your eyes swept over her appearance; the Facebook pictures were wrong, she was much more radiant in person. “You could say that, I guess. I travel a lot, though I’m only in New York half of the year. Usually I end up in the UK or Beijing. My work is very good to me.”

Cynthia sighed in faux envy, her hand resting over her swollen breasts from pregnancy. “You’re so cool, Y/N. It must be so fun traveling all over the world and seeing all these new things, tasting all the great food!”

You thought back to your large, empty apartment overlooking the Greenway that felt more like a showroom.The film of dust your housekeeper had to clean. The vacant adjacent plane seats. The uncomfortable fact you never had someone to go home to.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

After a few minutes of light hearted chat, your straw was sucking at your almost empty glass. God, you needed to pee.

“Sorry, Cy. I gotta go to the restroom for a minute, un momento!”

After relieving yourself, you stepped out of the restroom only to walk face first into a well-built chest. As much as you wanted to press your whole body onto his delicious one, it wasn’t exactly societally acceptable to be seen rubbing yourself against a stranger like a dog in the heat.

You (unfortunately) moved back, apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry, are you alrig...”

The last syllables left your mouth at the pace of molasses at your shock of seeing this god of a man in front of you. Tall, broad shouldered, with hidden muscles flexing under his casual white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms.

And his face. His face was like sin, chiseled as hell with pouty lips and sharp eyes. But as your gaze roamed over his features, you saw the scar near his lips that was barely visible. Only one person you knew had that unique scar, in its unique placement. He got it from accidentally knocking his trumpet too hard into his lips in sophomore year.

“Johnny?!” you gasped.

His face brightened up for a second, a brilliant gleam to his eyes until it went away in a flash.

“Y/N.”

His dark, tenor tone raised gooseflesh along your bare arms and shoulders. This was definitely not the Johnny you knew so well from high school.

After a moment of awkward silence (he didn’t look inclined to embrace you in a hug or even speak), and you spoke up. “Um, it’s great to see you. You look good.”

“Thanks, you too,” he said shortly.

A slight crease formed on your brow as you frowned lightly, not used to his coldness. If this were the Johnny you knew in high school, he would’ve wrapped you in a big bear hug with his long, lanky limbs flailing. He looked like he grew into those limbs.

“Well, do you have time to catch up? I haven’t seen you in a decade,” you breathed out.

He pursed his lips for a moment. “Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t. I’m only here because I’m meeting an old investor.”

It was only then you noticed his fancy watch and his shined Weston shoes, along with the dark leather briefcase he had in his hand. He looked like a Wall Street shark.

You were sure your face fell for a second, since he frowned minutely, until you felt a mask of pity snap into place. “That’s a shame. Well, have fun with your investor. See you… sometime.”

You bravely moved to pat his arm, and his face did not change even when you passed by him. You felt his intense gaze upon your retreating figure and until you were sure he couldn’t see you, sprinted through the crowded cafe to your balcony table with Cynthia.

“God, what took you so long?” she complained. “Our food already arrived.”

“Did you know Johnny Suh was in town?! I just ran into him!” you fake whispered.

Her brows lifted in surprise. “No? I didn’t see him on the Facebook guest list—”

You quickly pulled out your phone and opened the invite list. There, in dark navy font, was Johnny Suh.

“He was your best friend, right? The nerdy band kid you was always with?”

You felt the edges of your mouth pull down. “Hey, he’s not like that. He was a great and friendly guy! But I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Well, how is he?”

“I-He looked like a damn god, Cynthia. He’s so different from high school. I couldn’t even recognize him,” you breathed out.

Her eyebrows only climbed higher in surprise. “Well, I’ll be. Was not expecting that.”

You snorted. “No one was, even his fucking best friend of 4 years didn’t.”

Cynthia took a bite of her salad, a look of contemplation upon her rounded features.

“Something wrong, Y/N?”

You hugged yourself and looked away. “Well, when I say he’s not like from before, he really isn’t. I wasn’t expecting him to be this cold.”

This really wasn’t a situation you wanted to be in. At all.

Sitting here in a pretty, floral sundress, sitting on a park bench in the midst of all your former classmates chatting with decked out strollers parked beside them.

You tried your best to not feel uncomfortable, as Cynthia looked like she was enjoying herself, but this was simply not your speed. You’d never expected Cynthia to be friends with the popular kids at school in the future, but look where she was now. Chattering and giggling with the rest of them.

Your discomfort was only enforced by how different you looked from everybody, how Cynthia’s PTA mom friends were dressed like they were about to go to play tennis. They knew each other well and could giggle and gossip, but you were in your own isolated world.

Last, but not least:

They all had children.

You stared enviously at the little angels ran around the playground, screaming and cavorting about. Some stumbled on their legs, new to the concept to walking, but some sat quite passively staring out in space. Reluctantly, a smile crept upon your face as a group of little ones played tag. They ran, weaving in and out between children and playground equipment. Your eyes followed a darling girl dressed in red, with her cheeks flushed in excitement as she zoomed around but then--wham!-- slammed into a playground pole.

A gasp escaped your mouth and you almost stood up to go to her, until a tired groan resounded from across from you as a tanned blonde lazily got up to attend to her child. Then, you were bitterly reminded that, no, that was not your beautiful child.

“Oh my, poor Kayla, that little darling is always getting hurt! Bless her poor heart!” a woman (Kendall, maybe?) dressed in neon pink cooed her concern.

You could only sulk in pathetic silence as you deliberately excluded yourself from the conversation, too uncomfortable and upset to truly feel at place. Hell, it wasn’t just because you were clearly an outsider, it was the way this group of women treated people they thought lower them. Sudden memories came to you of Johnny’s crooked smile fading as he realized they never thought of him as a friend. How his friendly, warm personality was used against him as he helped them with their homework but was never truly thought as “in”. He cried so much that night.

“-you nowadays, Y/N?”

You whipped your head back around to see one of the nicer women, Katie, smiling at you as the whole group focused on your angered face.

“I’m sorry, come again? I’m afraid I was distracted.”

She laughed. “No problemo, sweetie. I just said ‘How are you?’ What’s going on in your life?”

A tight smile spread across your mouth. “I’m doing well right now. I work in New York as a private manager for J.P. Morgan,” you said politely, steeling yourself for the onslaught of questions.

“Ooh, so do you get paid well? Do you travel a lot?” someone butt in. You turned to see it was that one noisy theater kid (Anna?) and you decided to answer politely.

You tittered out a delicate laugh, the type you emit when you have to play nice with a client. You turn a modest smile Anna’s way. “I get by comfortably, and yes, I’m usually out of the country until someone here,” you side-eyed Cynthia, who waved cheerfully, “convinced me to come back for the reunion.”

Noises of approval came from the group, and they continued to ask polite questions until one sugary sweet drawl slithered in.

“Well, you sound so accomplished! This is all so amazing,” the tanned, voluptuous brunette 2 seats down from you piped up. “But, do you have anyone to share it with? Any hotshot hubby? Darling kids?”

You gritted your teeth, “No, unfortunately my job hasn’t allowed me to have much personal time.”

The other part of group turned away, wandering into other conversations and leaving the two of you relatively alone. She gasped dramatically, showing her immaculate gel manicure. “Are you even of the female kind?!” she playfully joked, but you could hear the undertone of smugness beneath.

Oh. Now you remember.

Victoria Edwards, that little bitch from the church group that always seemed to hate you. You had no idea what was her problem, especially since your parents had long been friendly with hers. Perhaps it was the fact you were amiable with everyone while many were tired of her spoiled attitude. Nevertheless, every chance she had to spite you or make things uncomfortable, she took it. Victoria did it with such calculated anger, you wondered what you ever did wrong to her. You never found out; she just had it out for you.

You shrugged modestly, careful to hide your trembling fingers in the folds of your dress lest you reach out a put her in a chokehold.

“But don’t you want kids? Who’s going to take care of you when you get older?” she continued, a look of faux pity on her heart-shaped face.

She just can’t stop, huh?

“Perhaps if everything slows down,” you replied carefully.

“Your eggs are going to get cold if you wait too long! I’ve heard those new fangled procedures for older women are very risky with a low chance of—”

“Thank you for the advice, Victoria. You seem very well-read on it— since your husband is always busy, you know— and you sound like you have some good experience under your belt. I’ll come to you for any help.”

You send a charming smile her way, and slowly rise up from your comfortable perch. Waving a goodbye Cynthia’s way, you continue to depart.

You refrain from sashaying away.

Wandering through the paths of your town’s best park, you reveled in the feeling of truly being in nature for the first time in over a decade. New York had Central, sure, but your town’s really immersed you in the outdoors without sky-scraping structures looming threateningly over you.

Closing your eyes to feel the radiant sunshine on your skin, you were startled when a little girl’s cry broke the peaceful silence of the area. It sounded muffled, but not too far away from where you were from.

“Hello? Sweetie, where are you?”

The cries only grew louder, and your footsteps only grew more frantic as you searched through the undergrowth.

“Hold, I’m coming to get you—”

You burst into a secluded part of the path and see a familiar little girl in a yellow jumpsuit bawling her eyes. You spotted a blotch of red and brown on her pale elbow and you practically ran to her shaking figure.

“Oh, poor sweetie, are you okay?”

She pulled her head out from her knees and cautiously stared at you, her cries dying down. You recognize her immediately. She was Cynthia’s snarky little 5 years old, Callie.

“I want M-mommy,” she pouted, rubbing her eyes so adorably you couldn’t help but melt.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry it’s Aunt Y/N,” you smiled kindly at her.

“A-Auntie?” she sniffled.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

She put her arms up and you obliged, careful not to jostle her wound too badly.

“Let’s go to Mommy, alright? It’s gonna be A-Okay.”

She buried your face in your neck, her soft puffs of hair brushing your cheek and you almost melted right there on the spot.

“You wanna tell me what happened, baby?” you asked, taking a fast past towards the trail path.

“I twipped on somethin’,” she mumbled.

“I’m so sorry sweet girl, how much does it hurt?”

“Vewy bad.”

“Oh dear,” you whispered.

As soon as you saw a small shed that had a red cross over it, you quickly made your way on over. Sitting her on the counter gently, you smiled your best smile.

“Auntie’s gonna get you all cleaned up, okay?”

She nodded, and you took that as consent when you reached for a first aid kit. You immediately cringed, knowing the first step was going to be painful for both of you.

“Baby, to get rid of the red and black, I’m gonna have to clean it. It might sting a bit so can you a strong girl for me?”

You saw her stubbornness Cynthia frequently complained about, as she jutted out her lip and nodded resolutely.

Getting out the alcohol and pads, you gave her a warning as you lightly pressed, She made a noise of discomfort, and your head snapped up to see if she was any pain.

“Callie?”

“I-I’m fine, Auntie,” she mumbled firmly.

Pinching her cheek playfully, you continued to disinfect the wound to reveal a light scrape on the skin of her elbow. Wrapping it up nice and tight, you patted her thigh.

“All done, baby,” you smiled. “Good job,” you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Is she yours?”

You let out a little scream as you dropped the cotton pads. You snapped your head to see Johnny Suh in a sleeveless tank and jogging shorts, a light sheen to his muscles from his work out.

He has one fit bod, a part of you whispered. The veins in his toned forearms, his fit calves, the hint of his strong chest in his tank—

There was a child next to you, for god’s sake!

Callie was laughing next to you, all her pain forgotten. Recovering from your shock, you rolled your eyes and playfully booped her on the nose, causing her to swat at it playfully.

“You silly little goose,” you chastized. She giggled even more, a beautiful smile split on her face.

A cough resounded from behind you and you remembered Johnny fucking Suh was behind you in the hottest workout gear you’ve ever seen and you blanched.

“So?” he raised an eyebrow, nodding towards Callie.

“Nope, this little sweetheart is Cynthia’s,” you said, squeezing Callie closer.

“Oh,” he merely said. You thought you detected a glimpse of relief on his face, before he moved it to that impassive mask.

His sharp eyes zoomed in on the bandage at her elbow and he frowned. “What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, just a minor trip,” you soothed, picking up Callie from the counter.

“Auntie, who is that?” she inconspicuously whispered, causing you to muffle your laughter against her head. Johnny had a slightly amused grin on his face.

“That’s Mr. Johnny. He’s an old… friend of mine,” you informed her, shifting her on your hip.

“Hi Mr. Johnny! I’m Callie and I’m 6 years old!” Callie brightly smiled, holding up 5 fingers.

“Sweetie, you need one more finger to make six,” you giggled, as you uncurled another finger on her other palm to make six.

Johnny let out a chuckle and bent down to eye level with the child in your arms. “Hiya kid. You can call me Johnny.”

“How old are you Mister Johnny? You look… like… very old!,” Callie flails her arms, unable to properly express the number.

A small smile graced his face, a glow in his eyes as he looked at the small child in your arms. His face wasn’t the one you saw in the cafe. “Not quite, baby. I’m the same age as your mommy.”

Callie continued to entertain Johnny as the three of you walked down the path, towards where her mom was sitting. Eventually, the adrenaline of the whole experience of getting hurt and meeting someone new wore off, and she slept soundly on your shoulder.

An awkward silence permeated between you and Johnny, as you busied yourself with the scenery you had seen hundreds of times while he regressed to his cold persona. His presence next to you was too close yet too far, and you could feel how tense you were walking next to him. Sometimes, his arm would brush against your shoulder and it ignited a series of nerves you haven’t felt in years. It was like there was a furnace flowing underneath your skin. You curled Callie in your arms a bit tighter to stave off whatever he was doing to you.

You felt Callie rustle a bit and you knew that if she woke up, she would be extremely grumpy so you hummed lightly, bouncing her up and down in your arms while patting her back lightly. So focused you were in your task, the undecipherable look in Johnny’s eyes went unnoticed.

“How have you been?,” Johnny spoke, his low voice still so unfamiliar to your ears.

Your head snapped up toward his, him now towering over you when you had once been his height. His black hair lay across his eyes, his amber eyes intensely focused at you.

“I’ve been alright. Good,” you mumbled.

Another lengthy period of silence stretched between you.

“...I heard you were snatched up by J.P. Morgan when you graduated. That’s a good company,” Johnny said.

“Yeah, I’m now a private manager there. They’ve— the company—has been very good to me over these years,” you smiled slightly. It was true, the company had treated you well and given you a career, but you were still so...lonely.

“You look like you’re doing well for yourself.”

“....yes.” Silence. “You too— you look like you’re doing well.”

“I’d like to think so. I-, uhm, I’m the CEO of an online banking company— Banksy, have you heard of it?”

You were embarrassed to admit you gaped at him for a solid minute. Banksy? It was one of the trendiest e-businesses that had grown exponentially when the tech boom hit the market. The small start-up crested the wave until it had become a blue-chip name on the stock exchange. You even had an account with them!

“I-I have. I even have an account with them— you. Wow, Johnny, congratulations, that’s honestly amazing,” you smiled brightly at him, really and truly proud of your high school best friend doing so well for himself— no matter how cold he was to you.

A reluctant smile crawled over his plump lips, and you realize how much you had missed him. Yes, he was your best friend in every sense the word meant. He had been there and celebrated when you made it onto the softball team, offered you his hoodie when your period had come out of nowhere, even been there when you had gotten into an accident, senior year.

He had gotten there first. Not the police, not your parents— him, in his stupid Naruto pajamas, pulling up in his shitty 2001 Honda Accord and bawling his eyes out.

You hadn’t realized how much you relied upon him until you moved to college in another state, totally lost and confused without your best friend. Regret had always been an emotion associated with his name. You wished you had kept in contact with him, and even more so regretted you hadn’t ever truly revealed your...

“Thank you, Y/N.”

He opened up his mouth to say something, then immediately opened it again, but then paused. He looked like he was having a conflict within himself, but he shook his head and stared directly at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I couldn’t really talk to you that day with met at the cafe. It was a bit… rude in hindsight.”

You blinked in shock, mouth slightly ajar as you stumbled on the path.

“O-Oh, that? Don’t worry about it— I get it, we’re all so busy nowadays,” you offered a weak smile.

“No, I’m in the wrong here. We were… we were best friends for years, I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

His brows furrowed, you notice how much he has matured. Not just in his looks and the way he presented himself, it was the way he treated you. Don’t get it wrong (he was a sweetheart during high school), but he seemed more sure of himself, more able to take responsibility and address conflict. He had always had kind of avoided confrontation, the one part you hated of him you hated during high school, and would always just kind of awkwardly wait for any conflict to pass by and ignore it. He was so much Johnny, but so much less.

“Hey, it’s alright. We were both just not used to each other, y’know? You were probably stressed out at the time and took it out on me. There’s no need to get in a tizzy over that.”

“It’s just I haven’t seen you in years and I treated you like that—”

“Youngho.”

His Korean name sort of forced itself out of your mouth, hiding in the back of your throat all these years and finally popping back up when the man himself did. No one really knew of his other name other than his sweet mother and you, since your white-ass town would’ve butchered it until the point of disfiguration. Hearing you say it had always calmed him down.

“...fine,” he pouted. Maybe, just maybe, you saw bits of the old Johnny peek through the new mask, new body of his. “Man, I just feel terrible about it, though. It hasn’t left my mind in days.”

“Why don’t you make it up to me by getting a coffee with me sometime? I.. I’d love to catch up, Johnny. I’d really, really like to.”

His dark eyes met yours and yours widened.

“I’d love to.”

By the time your unlikely trio reached the PTA moms plus Cynthia, it was already late afternoon. The sun had turned golden, the kids were getting tired, and the music from your town’s main street could be faintly heard.

“Y/N? Y/N?! Have you seen—” Cynthia called out frantically, waving her cell phone around but paused when she saw her child in your arms.

“Oh my god, Callie! Sweetheart!”

She sprinted across the sidewalk to immediately take the sleepy child from your tired arms. You could see the sunlight glint off her sweaty face, her unkempt hair frizzing out of her bun while she rocked Callie in her arms.

A slight grin graced your face as you tilted your head and took in the sweet mother-daughter moment. Unbeknownst to you, the man beside you had the same expression on as well, his hands itching to pull you closer.

“Cynthia? Sweetheart, did you find Callie?” someone shouted from the side.

A flock of moms headed towards your general direction, all carrying their kids with them and hoisting their heavy bags. As soon as they reached you, their eyes had wandered from Cynthia and zoomed in on the delectable piece of man next to you. You remembered how he looked with his toned and veiny arms on display in his loose tank, how good he looked with his hair windblown and disheveled and you inwardly smacked your head. He was basically bait for middle-aged women.

“Y/N, who is this? Would you care to introduce us?” the woman you thought was Kendall cocked out her hip, her eyes still fixated on Johnny.

“This is—”

“Am I late to the party? Well, thank god we found Ca— oh, who is this?”

Everyone’s favorite girl Victoria sauntered into your midst, her rambunctious kids following behind her.

You gave a tight smile. “Ladies, do you remember Johnny Suh from high school? This is him.”

The women present smiled brightly but did not seem to remember his name.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t seem to recall you from back then,” Victoria smiled apologetically. Your eyes zoomed in on the subtle movements she displayed— the slight stroking of her bare arms, the hooded lids— and you rolled your eyes.

“Hold on, weren’t you a trumpet in marching band? Vice president of the Anime Club?” Anne popped out, the glint of recognition in her eyes,

Johnny chuckles and shifted his weight. “Yeah, that was me,” he said, with a sort of secretive smile on his lips.

You watched with smug satisfaction as the ladies’ eyes collectively widened in disbelief, Victoria even going stiff for a moment before recovering. The boy they had excluded, used, looked down on, had grown into this man next to you.

“W-well, I’ll be! You’ve changed so much from back then,” Kendall (still unsure who the hell she is) grinned.

“You could say that,” Johnny smirked before pushing his hair out of his face, everyone’s eyes following his toned arms flexing.

Karma is so sweet.

“Y/N, mom threatened to decapitate me if I didn’t invite you to dinner. Could you come over?”

Always the momma’s boy.

“You want to save this sexy face, right?”

There he was. That was the Johnny you knew.

“Mm, I don’t know. You could use a little ego beat down,” you laughed, bending down to open your suitcase.

“Don’t lie, love, you find me attractive,” he breathed, his voice rough. You bit your lip at the noise, gripping your shirt tight enough to create wrinkles.

A beat of silence passed before you moved to speak. “Dress code, Johnny?”

He snorted. “You could show up in pajamas and mom and dad would still be glad to see you.”

“Even in those silly Naruto pajamas you wore?” you teased.

“Hey! They were not silly-”

“- sure, anime club VP-”

“- and shut up, you stole them anyways.”

You sighed, remembering the orange pajama top stuffed in the back of a cabinet. “I mean, I could just show up naked if you’re not going to give me some kind of dress code.”

A muffled grunt met your ears as it sounded like he quickly moved the phone away from his mouth and your eyes widened.

“Ugh, sorry about that I...dropped something. But fine, woman, dressy casual. Mom just came back from church and she wants to see dad and I look at least somewhat presentable.”

“How is your mom, by the way? The church?”

“Both doing fine. Mom is running the back to school drive again. Remember Mark Lee? That kid in our youth group? He’s actually the Faith Formation leader now.”

“Markie? Oh my god, I missed him!” you smiled widely as you remembered the hyper boy 4 years younger than you, who was too kind and too pure for his own good.

“I’m starting to feel offended, what about me?”

“No, ‘cause he’s cute and you’re not, Johnny.”

“That right, ‘cause I’m sexy.”

“Oh my god.”

You both burst out laughing, the moment feeling so right it warmed your chest. You laid your floral dress on your bed and flopped down next to it.

“Well, if you’re done inflating your ego, I gotta get ready. Bye bye.”

“Bye, love.”

You sighed for the umpteenth time today and your eyes were drawn around your room. Colorful pictures, awards, and random stuff covered the walls and surfaces of your room. It looked so lived in, so alive and loved it hurt to think about going back home to your starkly empty bedroom.

To be honest, you had no idea what happened. Cynthia liked to call you the ultimate girl next door, and while you vehemently protested it at the time, now you couldn’t help but feel she was right. Back then you thought you were antisocial as hell, but as opposed to the present, you were the life of the party. Clubs, church group, Johnny— you were so bright and bubbly back then, so many people surrounding you in your small hometown.

Now, as opposed to then, you lived life like clockwork. It wasn’t surprising, since after college you threw yourself into studying to be successful, forgetting everything and everyone that made you feel alive. Now, it was robotic, tiring, and lonely.

The picture at the very center of your room caught your attention. It was a lovely one, set during the late afternoon at your town’s park. You and Johnny stood close together, arm in arm, smiling brightly at the camera dressed to the nines.

Prom.

Picking up the frame, you brushed a reverent hand across the picture of the two of you. You both had no one to go with, and decided to go together since everyone else you knew paired off. You remember him awkwardly sliding the white corsage onto your wrist, you having to tip-toe to pin his to the lapel of his blazer. In hindsight, Johnny in senior year was starting to look like the Johnny of today.

That night was so fun. Dancing ‘til you had to take off your heels, Johnny pretending to spike the punch, stuffing your face with the fancy sandwiches provided— the classical prom experience.

The highlight was when Johnny pulled you into dancing the last song of the night. The pair of you couldn’t look each other in the eye as you slowly swayed to the music, breaths hitching at the slight distance between each other. But at the end, when you two finally caught each other’s gazes, was exhilarating. He opened his mouth, his eyes shifting back and forth in nervousness.

You thought he was going to confess.

Instead, he seemed to stop himself and smiled weakly at you. That moment of what could have been, what you could’ve done, haunted you forever until you threw yourself into studying.

What would’ve happened if you had spoken up?

“Y/N-ah!!! My love, come here!”

Heat diffused into your cheeks as you crossed the yard to the tiny woman under the patio bouncing with energy.

You struggled not to run and leap into Mrs. Suh’s arms while carrying a small roll cake from Tous Les Jours. But when you saw her wide smile and eyes folded up like crescents in happiness, you dropped your stuff on the ground and ran into her arms.

“Hi Auntie!” you murmured into her shoulder as you embraced her, tears coming into your eyes as you settled into her warm embrace.

“Oh, Y/N! I haven’t seen you for 10 years, don’t cry!” Mrs. Suh laughed as she held you at arm's length, eyes roving over your face. She wiped a tear off your cheek with her thumb and patted your neck.

“You’ve always been pretty, but now you’ve grown to be so beautiful.” She pinched your arm. “But why aren’t you eating more? Come, auntie will get you some good food.”

“I brought a roll cake, Auntie. I hope you like it,” you said, wiping tears off your face as she led you down the hall.

“Thank you, sweetheart. 여보 (Husband)! Y/N is here! Come out, come out!” she yelled down into the home office.

“Eh? Y/N?” Mr. Suh’s thin voice echoed from the office as a new wave of tears threatened to rise up.

Mr. Suh, a bit older and thinner than when you last saw him, opened the door to his office and a wide smile lit up his face.

“Give your uncle a hug!”

As you gave your best friend’s dad a hug, more tears spilled onto your cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry!” Mrs. Suh said as she grabbed you into a side-hug, wiping off your tears.

“I just missed you guys so much,” you blubbered, struggling to compose yourself. Tears started to come to Mrs. Suh’s eyes and Mr. Suh laughed. These two had been more than your best friend’s parents, they had raised both of you through thick and thin. You were closer to them than most of your family when you were in high school, and they had never failed to welcome you into their home with open arms.

“Y/N, my wife has been missing her church helper. Bake sales don’t make themselves and she’s getting so old these days, you know?” he said, teasing his wife.

She released you as she slapped his arm. “Yah! You know what, you can set up the table by yourself.. Go!”

You smiled at the utter love and admiration in their eyes as they teased each other. You had always hoped that one day, you could stare into your significant other’s eyes with an ounce of the love they have.

“Ah, Johnny’s probably still fussing with his hair upstairs. He’s missed you so much these days,” she smiled up at you.

“Moooommmm,” Johnny whined, coming down the stairs. “내 비밀 드러내지 마세요! (Don’t reveal my secrets)!”

“What? It’s true, John-ah,” she smiled at him she hugged his torso.

He turned to you, and you looked down, blushing. Johnny looked extra good today, in a casual Oxford and jeans combo that emphasized his proportions.

“Hi there,” he said, leaning on the railing. He gave you a discreet wink from above his mother’s head and affixed an intense stare on your person, his eyes roving up and down your body.

“H-Hey John,” you mumbled, your body curling on itself from his gaze.

“Well, I’m going to leave you two kids alone before my husband breaks something,” she said with a mysterious sparkle in her eye. As if on cue, silverware clattered onto a plate. “Oh dear,” she muttered as she sped down to the kitchen.

The two of you were left in silence.

“You look great today, Y/N.” Johnny smirking as he tilted his head towards you. Where did this confident Johnny come from?

“You too. Since when did you learn such good Korean?” you grinned, trying to lighten the mood. To be fair, Johnny only knew really basic phrases in high school and you were surprised to see unaccented Korean flow fluently from his mouth.

“Oh, I was kinda dropped into the Korea and told to swim, ha.”

“Cool.”

Another awkward silence.

“I missed you a lot, Johnny,” you whispered, foot tracing patterns into the floor.

“Me too, Y/N. I… I missed my best friend.”

You bit your lip as you opened your arms for him and he quickly wrapped his arms around your torso. Even with you standing on your toes, with his tall height he had to bend down slightly. So familiar, yet so different. Breathing in the scent of cologne and the clean linen of his shirt, you hoped he would not hear the pounding of your heart through the thin fabric of your dress.

The two of you stood there in the hallway, basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies until the noise of an iPhone shutter sounded.

Johnny lifted his head from your hair and you looked to see Mrs. Suh standing in the doorway, grinning at the screen of her iPhone which was directed at you.

“엄마 (Mom)!” he groaned, not letting go of you yet.

“I wanted to capture my two loves together, okay? Now give Y/N a pair of slippers, please,” she said, bustling off the kitchen once again.

You let go of him slowly, leaning back down onto the floor.

“You know, you look so different Johnny. I didn’t recognize you at first,” you said quietly, raising a hand to caress his jaw.

“I’ve changed a lot,” he responded, equally as soft. A grin split his face as he grabbed your hand. “You can ogle me later, let’s go before mom smacks me for not helping.”

His hand wrapped around your smaller one as he led you to the dining room table. You tried to go to the kitchen and help but used his grip to force you into a seat, citing you were a guest. You weren’t sure if he did it intentionally, but his hand stroked your arm as he let go of your hand to help in the kitchen, a caress so soft it sent shivers down your spine.

When dinner was served and everyone sat down, you could not resist hungrily scooping large portions of Mrs. Suh’s homemade kimchi-jjigae and Mr. Suh’s galbi onto your plate.

“Eat up, eat up, my love. I cooked your favorites.” Mrs. Suh smiled beside you.

You savored in the taste of her cooking as conversation languidly started, regular family chat you remembered from your many dinners here in high school. As you uncrossed your legs, you accidentally kicked Johnny’s long legs under the table. I’m so sorry, you mouthed silently. Turning back to Mrs. Suh, you couldn’t see the devious smirk crawl upon his plump lips.

You found out Mr. and Mrs. Suh were now fully retired. Mr. Suh spent his days at the Korean Golf Association, playing there and running the tournaments they hosted. Mrs. Suh was now fully committed to the church, taking on a busy schedule of events that was getting hard to manage.

Mrs. Suh was complaining about the new church moms when you quietly asked Johnny to pass the radish over, and he complied. Instead of just handing you the dish, he forked over some slices and dipped them in vinegar, just the way you like it. You grinned at him and he leaned over, then his leg brushed the smooth skin of your bare calves. Your eyes widened.

“...you would not believe how many mothers tried to get me to introduce their daughters to John-ah after I showed them a photo…”

You almost choked as his pant clad leg inserted itself between yours, the fabric of his pants tickling various spots on your legs causing every sense to be heightened. Feeling the goosebumps on your arms, you turned an accusing gaze to him but he looked nonplussed, eating his cabbage.

“...but I’ve met them already, and they’re not for Johnny, you know? They never liked Johnny in high school, so why should…”

You frantically grabbed for a glass of water as his knee brushed the inside of your thigh. A small whine left your lips as your pussy tightened, gripping the glass very tight. A drop of moisture collected in your panties, and quickly created a pool as his legs trapped yours.

“... Oh I love Mark-ah and Hyerim, but you were so good with the kids, Y/N-ah!...”

You let a curtain of hair cover your face to hide your reddening expression, breasts heaving as your breathing start to pick up. When his knee started move along the inside of your thigh, your teeth dug into your bottom lip hard enough to bleed, your remaining hand bunching up in your dress. You could see a small smirk form on Johnny’s face while he was eating and you scowled in his direction, squirming from the added moisture in your panties.

“...kids, Y/N-ah?”

You were shaken out of your daze when Mr. and Mrs. Suh looked expectantly at you.

“Sorry, auntie?”

“Do you have a husband? Or wife? How about kids— you are a born mother!”

Johnny’s foot slid to meet your ankle, forcing you to swallow hard. You hoped like hell your nipples wouldn’t peak through your dress. You already knew there was no saving your panties, shifting so your arousal wouldn’t stain your dress or the chair beneath you. You laughed awkwardly. “Ah, no, not quite. My job keeps me traveling around so much and I haven’t had time to start a family.”

“You still want one?”

Images of kids with hair like yours running around sunlit fields, a big house and a big belly, swollen with your baby flashed quickly in your head. Your smile turned sad.

“I’d love nothing more than one.”

Mrs. Suh smiled proudly, and turned to Johnny to nag him about her lack of grandkids or a daughter in law. Johnny had stopped playing footsie with you and was trying to avoid his mom’s hands grabbing at his face, but your breath still ran ragged when something occurred to you about your vision.

Those kids had the same eyes as Johnny.

(So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Mr. Suh nudge Johnny in the arm, silently telling him to “hurry up”.)

“Y/N, I ban you from the kitchen! You are the guest,” Mrs. Suh stressed, waving you out of the question with a soapy glove.

“Absolutely not. I want to help you clean. Besides, you’re getting old, y’know?” you ribbed, pulling back your hair and grabbing a clean towel. As soon as dinner ended, you bolted out of the room into the kitchen, ignoring the stickiness between your legs.

“Aigoo! Fine, fine,” she relented, rinsing a dirty bowl.

Toweling off the glasses Mrs. Suh had recently cleaned, your gaze had wandered to Johnny’s tall figure in the dining room. As he moved about, Johnny seemed so much more comfortable in his lanky limbs, no longer the awkward kid you knew. His actions were done with surety of someone who knew of his own self-worth, sure of his abilities and flaws. Regret washed over you, mixed in with pride. You were so, so proud of the man you see before your eyes, but you desperately wished you could have been part of it.

Mrs. Suh watched you with a secret smile as your toweling slowed down.

“I know I said it before, but Johnny really missed you.”

“Huh?” you asked dumbly, taken out of your stupor.

“During the first few years after high school, I was so sure Johnny was going to break down. You two had become so busy and slowly lost contact— he didn’t know how to function without you! John-ah was like a blind man, stumbling around, aimless. But one day... it somehow all changed.”

“How?” you asked quietly.

“I found him in his room one day, one of the times he came back home. He was reading some of the Post-It notes he would randomly stick around his room, and it looked faded. I couldn’t see it, of course, but I saw John-ah slip into his pocket. The night I saw him, his eyes were bright, his shoulders, determined. His company took off right after he visited.”

Mrs. Suh stopped cleaning as she gazed at her boy, a small smile playing at her lips.

“I’m so proud of the man he has become. Yet… yet he’s told me he doesn’t feel satisfied, you know? Like there’s something empty in his chest. Like he’s looking for something but he doesn’t know what.”

Your breath caught in your throat and your heartbeat started to pound in your ears. How… how could it be so similar? How could he feel the exact same as what you do?

“Personally, I...I think he needs a family. He wants a girl he can love, and, dear god, you don’t know how much he wants kids.”

If you bit any harder, your lip would bleed onto your pretty dress.

“John-ah… you don’t see the look in his eyes when we pass by a child. He just completely stops listening to the conversation, and it’s like he can’t look away. He told me about your friend’s daughter— Callie, yes?— and then he finally realized how much he wanted kids. So, so much.”

A fine tremor wracked your hand as you put away the plates, lost in your thoughts. It wasn’t as if you were shocked, oh no. It was more the fact that you could finally see it: you and Johnny, looking into each other’s eyes, in each other’s loving embrace as your children with your hair and his eyes slept in the crib in front of you.

Distractedly, you toweled the rest of the dishes and kissed her cheek as you shuffled off to the living room.

“Y/N, dear,” she called out after you.

“Yes, Auntie?”

Her eyes suddenly seemed so old.

“You don’t know how scared he was when he thought Callie was yours.”

As promised, the next day Johnny took you out to the best coffee place in your hometown. Broken Egg Cafe was a small place squeezed in between a boutique and an alcohol store on main street, and it was as shabby as it looked on its facade. Mix and match furniture dotted the rustic food place, dim lighting providing an ambient atmosphere. The cafe was the usual haunt of the local community college kids who liked the hipster atmosphere and comfy spots. That, and it was the place where everyone knew that if you went on a date, you were seriously committed to each other.

Trying not to dwell on it, you sat patiently while scrolling through your phone. A grin lit up your face as you saw the series of photos Mrs. Suh had posted on Facebook, all of the Suh family dinner you partook in. You clicked the heart and saved all the photos, and, embarrassingly, the one where Johnny had led you to the table. You were grinning at each other, his hand resting on your shoulder, as Mr. Suh was reached for something out of frame. Quickly, a few taps had replaced the generic background of your phone with the picture.

Funnily enough, all the photos posted had included you in it. Call yourself crazy, but you expected Mrs. Suh to post a few of her and her husband, or her and her son— but no. You could even see the ones where visible sweat gleaned from your brow, shakily smiling after Johnny had played footsie under the table.

“Y/N!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. You gave him a quick glance over and, wow, he looked devilishly handsome today. An old Ramones shirt half-tucked into skinny jeans was an interesting contrast to his usual business attire, his ratty converse slapping on the wood beams as he strode towards you.

He evidently saw your glance-over as a shit-eating grin graced his lips, and you could only ignore the heat in your cheeks then bury your head into his chest.

“Hey sweet girl, how are you?” he whispered into your ear, your shoulders tensing as a breath of hot air hit your sensitive neck.

“Well, you?” you murmured near his neck.

“Great as you can be waiting for the reunion tonight,” he snickered.

A snort passed your lips as you flopped down onto the couch, tucking your feet under you and propping your head on your palm. His lanky figure settled into the couch, limbs comfortably positioned to face you.

“I ordered your ridiculous drink, you know. Grande Chai Tea Latte, 3 Pumps, Skim Milk, Lite Water—”

“—no foam, extra hot?” you asked disbelievingly.

“Yes, your frou-frou white girl drink that’ll cause cavities,” he grumbled.

“I could kiss you, you know that?” you blurted, eyes glued to the server bringing you your drink.

He murmured something as you said your thanks to the server, grasping the cup with 2 hands.

“Huh?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

You rolled your eyes and knocked your knee against his. “Didn’t Auntie tell you to stop doing that?”

Soon, a light hearted conversation reminiscing about the past started up. You could both of you slip back into that easy rhythm that was your dynamic back in high school, joking and ranting to each other. You laughed about everything from the time he took up skateboarding and briefly became emo, the antics the band kids had gotten up to, and even your horrible experience with AP Calculus.

“And, oh my god, remember what Jake did at senior prom? I can’t believe he wasn’t expelled,” you said, eyes wide.

“Jake? My lord and savior, Jake?” Johnny asked, his grin widening. “Man, that was my bro. Swag brothers forever.”

“Johnny, he put smuggled in a chicken. To this day I don’t how he did that!”

“Secret.” He put a finger over his lips. “But, I will tell you I had to distract to Prom Committee by B-Boying.”

You shook your head, hiding a smile. “Prom was so fun, wasn’t it? The theme was great that year, they ordered great food—”

“—You went with me, duh—”

“—and I didn’t trip over my dress! You were an okay date for prom.”

Johnny gasped loudly, and laid a hand over his hard, clearly offended. “Excuse me? I clearly remember you made me trip during the last dance! Here I was, being a great date, leading us through the dance, and you placed a wrong foot forward. You!”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That was only because you–” you pressed a finger into his hard chest “–were too close.”

“Can you blame me?” he breathed.

It was in that moment you realized how close you were to him. Somehow, throughout the course of the conversation, you both had scooted closer to each other on the couch and ended up with both your legs tangled together.

“W-what are you talking about, Youngho?”

He sighed, his hands unconsciously seeking out yours. “Y/N, can I be honest?”

“Of course you can, you can always be with me,” you reassured, still confused as hell.

A soft smile came to his face. “I... the day at the cafe. I was never in town to meet with my old investor. I came here, back to town and this reunion, in hopes of seeing my beautiful best friend.”

“I–”

“Hold on, let me… let me tell you what’s been on my mind.”

His thumb started stroking hands, your mind briefly registering the large difference in size before freaking out at how close he was to you.

“In high school, you were my only good friend. My pillar, my rock, the only one who held my hand before I became...me. From freshman to senior year, you enchanted me and I could only helplessly fall into you, like a singularity Mrs. Kee harped on about in Physics,” he chuckled.

“Sometimes, I would look at you and think, why me? You could have befriended every other boy, but no. It was me. Even when everyone made fun of me and rejected me, it was always me. And god, prom.”

“I was so damn close to telling you how I felt that night, dancing with you for the last song. I mentally prepared myself and everything, I needed to tell you before we graduated, and I opened my mouth and then it hit me: you deserve someone so much better. You had your whole life in front of you, and why should dorky ol’ me hold you back? I didn’t tell you, and I...I don’t regret it.”

Pain rippled over his face then he composed himself, his stare burning into yours.

“I was so lost without you for years. How could I be with you when I didn’t even know where I was going? But that one day… I decided I was going to find myself. Moved to Korea, started a company… you know the rest. I became the best I could be.”

Tears started to well up at the edges of your eyes, and as your lips quivered you brought a soft hand to cheek. You didn’t know his insecurity ran that deep; you thought those little self-deprecating jokes were just that–jokes. What kind of best friend were you that you let him think so badly of himself, from high school and the years that followed?

He leaned into your touch, and the tension evaporated from his broad shoulders.

“10 years later, and I think that maybe, maybe I’m good enough for myself– good enough for you. So I sign myself up for this stupid little reunion, fly back home, yet in that little cafe I was so unprepared to see you.”

His lips brushed over your palm, like the brush of silk, and then he leaned back.

“When I saw you that day, it felt like a dream. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing you for real and when I knew, I was so fucking happy. And, like a cruel imitation of prom, something held me back.”

“I didn’t realize that maybe you moved on without me, maybe you had a family and a new best friend. I felt so stupid at the time, seeing you look so beautiful, thinking I could just waltz back in we could pick up where we left off. It’s no excuse, but it’s why I lied and was a complete asshole towards you. I was so disappointed in myself.”

You couldn’t hear anything around you, see anything around you, and was engulfed by the vision of your best friend looking at you like a prayer.

“What do you feel now, Youngho?” you whispered.

“I will always see you as my everything.”

His lips brushed against your forehead and he walked out before you could process anything.

“Thanks!” Cynthia calls out as she exits the Uber Black XL. You give a wan smile to the driver as you carefully step out onto the pavement.

The golden sign of the Langham shone bright against the rapidly darkening Chicago skyline, reflecting off the mirror-like glass. Perhaps it was the fact that you were a New Yorker, or the fact you were shivering and it wasn’t because of the cold, but you could not concentrate on the sight at all.

“Isn’t this place gorgeous? The girls and I worked hard to get a banquet hall here, like, hard. Who cares about the thirty minute drive when you can get a place like this?” your friend calls out excitedly, sweeping an arm to emphasize to view.

“You did well for yourselves this time. I bet the committee for the class before ours is steaming,” you shakily joked. Well, not quite. As said before, school reunions were huge for your school, each class trying to outdo each other at every turn, from the venue to the catering and more. Your class must be feeling quite proud right now.

“I bet this is so-so for you, city girl,” she ribbed. A yelp escaped your lips, accusingly looking towards her as you rubbed the spot where she elbowed you. “Oh shut up, PTA mom.”

No matter how much you liked to tease her, Cynthia looked the opposite of a PTA mom tonight. Her cocktail attire hugged her post-pregnancy curves, but, looking at her now, she looked like a mix of her youthful party persona with worldly maturity. She definitely would be turning a few heads tonight.

“C’mon, city girl, let’s go. I need to see if everything is perfect!”

Your 10-year high school reunion was held in a ballroom 2 stories above the street, sumptuous in its decoration and looking more like a corporate dinner than anything else. Dozens of circular tables dotted the floor of the room, each set in the green and gold of your high school colors. A particularly large “Go Spartans! Class of 2XXX” sign was posted right outside the door, attracting people to sign their names onto the banner with a flourish. While you and Cynthia were on time, many people had shown up and milled about the room.

“Oh my god, there’s our val! Let’s see if she’s something cool or just peaked in high school,” Cynthia whispered conspiratorially, dragging your unsure figure towards the crowd.

You tried your best to greet everybody in the large ballroom, but a certain man was still lingering at the forefront of your mind. Every few seconds, you would catch yourself glancing around nervously, especially towards the large double doors that heralded anyone’s arrival. Eventually, when you caught yourself gravitating closer to the entrance, you knew you were being ridiculous.

An expensive-sounding roar sounded outside the building, and a collective head turn had the crowd’s eyes riveted on a white car in the valet lane of the hotel. You didn’t know much about cars, but even looking at it 2 stories up, it looked like something out of a movie. Male murmurs of appreciation were heard as the butterfly doors of the car opened up, even bystanders stopping and staring. You felt a sinking feeling at the bottom of your stomach as a good-looking man in a grey suit stepped out, his black wavy hair visible from a distance.

God, how were you even supposed to talk to Johnny? Somehow, telling him “I’ve secretly pined over you for years and would like to have your babies” didn’t quite do it for you.

“Y/N? Oh my gosh!”

Not this shit again.

Repressing an oncoming headache, you plastered your best fake smile that you put on especially for disagreeable clients and turned towards the snooty, entitled voice that was so familiar.

“Victoria! Wonderful to see you again,” you simpered. Goodness, you could see her fake tan glowing radioactively in the dim light.

“Oh, come here! It’s great to see you here, don’t you look just fab.” Victoria threw her arms out, as if you two were the best of friends, and you stepped into a polite embrace. Granted, now you could see her typical Brooks Brother dress was well-fitted, but screamed “country-club mom!” in your face.

“You’ve got to meet my husband. James, come here!”

A well-built man in a tailored navy suit lumbered towards her, two champagne flutes in his hands. Gazing at his chiseled features and neat blond hair, you could admit Victoria had caught quite the catch.

“Victoria,” he murmured, handing a glass to her. He caught sight of you, his eyes roving predatorily over your body that made you shiver in a not-so-nice way.

“Sweetheart, would you care to introduce me to your friend?” he said, not taking his eyes off of you.

She clearly noticed the way he was speaking to you, her lined eyes narrowing and her lips curling into a snarl.

“Husband, this is Y/N, an acquaintance of mine. We didn’t hang out with the same crowd, she preferred those geeky types,” Victoria emphasized, making it clear that you were undesirable.

He hummed while still looking at your legs and you could spot the signs of a dysfunctional marriage right away. You saw it in the men you worked with, obviously bored with a taste for female coworkers, even though his wedding band shone bright on his left hand. You sort of felt bad for her, no matter how much of a bitch she was to you.

“Anyways, I saw you were looking for someone. Did you bring any hot hubby?” she giggled a bit too brightly.

You smiled tightly. She was clearly trying to humiliate you, but once her dear husband found out you were single, you wouldn’t be surprised if you found yourself cornered in a hallway. “Not today, Vicky,” you said, knowing it would irritate the hell out of her. Victoria hated the nickname ‘Vicky’, claiming it sounded too country-bumpkin for her tastes.

“That’s right! You’re single, with your fancy office job and all–”

“Y/N, I was looking for you.”

It felt like your senses were on superdrive, hyper-alert of the man standing behind you.

You really weren’t prepared for this. You really, really weren’t. You hadn’t had any time to mentally or emotionally prepare for when you spoke to Johnny the next time you saw him, cowardly languishing in a pool of anxiety and insecurity.

Well, you were L/N Y/N. Hired straight out of college for J.P. Morgan. You were promoted and trusted because you could handle high pressure situations like this. So, you put on your big girl face and turned to see Johnny.

His smirking lips were the first thing you saw, and then his eyes, wolfish and sharp. Johnny was indeed the man in the grey suit with the fancy car, and you could see the way this particular get-up highlighted his lean figure.

“Johnny, hey,” you smiled softly, though you were sure there was a nervous lilt to your voice. Evidently, he caught on as his smirk widened and he stepped closer to you. The whiplash was real. One moment he was a lovestruck boy confessing to you in a coffee shop and the next he was a smooth-tongued man that made your knees weak.

“Johnny Suh? Mister Johnny Suh?”

The pair of you looked towards Victoria’s husband, whom looked awe-struck.

“Yes?” Johnny asked, eyes settling on the man in front of him.

There was no masculine size-up moment you’ve always seen in Wall street meetings, but James postured and simpered his way to Johnny.

“It’s great to meet you! I’m James Bouchard, a financial analyst. I worked with Banksy’s finance department before on the 2015 Orchard project.”

A charming smile made its way onto Johnny’s face, the perfect picture of a suave businessman. As great as it was looking at Johnny in his natural element, it was infinitely more amusing to watch the changing moods on Victoria’s countenance. Currently, she was stuck on shock as she learned more about the boy she shunned.

“Is Ms. Y/N your lovely wife? My wife just introduced me to her, you caught a great one,” he winked, trying to flatter Johnny’s ego.

Your best friend (crush? Classmate? Acquaintance?) merely chuckled and snaked an arm around your waist. He looked down at you with undisguised admiration, making you blush and look away. “I’d say she was the one that caught me, since we’ve been best friends since high school. Although, your wife didn’t quite seem to like me in high school. Pity.” Unable to resist, you looked sharply up at him. Since when were you his wife? Well, not that you’d protest, but these kinds of decisions require two consenting adults!

James looked down on his wife with malice in his eyes for potentially ruining a lucrative connection that she didn’t even know would exist. Victoria looked deeply embarrassed.

“Well, it was great seeing both of you! C’mon, James, dear, the food looks lovely,” she said brightly, beating out a hasty retreat with James angrily striding behind.

Sitting in silence for a few moments, you finally raised an eyebrow, a common signal that you used to ask him to ‘explain’. He opened his mouth, but a shout of his name had both of you turning towards the origin. Johnny rolled his eyes, and went to speak to you again but louder, greater shouts interrupted him.

“Look, baby, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated at the interruption.

“Go to your swag bros, Johnny. I think they miss you,” you said drily as they began clanging glasses.

“You’re the best,” he kissed your forehead hurriedly.

“Ooh-la-la, what was that about?” Cynthia sauntered up beside you, looking in the direction of the tall man.

“It was nothing, Cynthia.”

“Nothing? Johnny-with-the-great-biceps called you ‘baby’ and kissed you on the forehead, I don’t think that’s nothing.”

“Cynthia, I…” you bit your lip, discomfited.

Her eyes softened, seeing the deeply troubled set to your face.

“Let’s go to somewhere else.”

“—and now I don’t know what to do!”

Cynthia nodded mutely after hearing you explain the past days’ goings on, from the cafe to the walk and even to the dinner. She was uncharacteristically staying silent, soaking in the information as you recounted the tale.

She looked contemplative for a few moments, before her eyes sought yours. “You want to know what I think?”

“Aren’t you here for that?” you snapped.

She looked you dead in the eye. “You’re being an absolute idiot right now.”

You spluttered for a few seconds. “Uh- what? Hold on, Cynthia—”

“He’s deeply in love with you, and from what I’ve heard you sound like you feel the same. It’s that simple.”

“I-I—”

“Tell me right now, what would happen if he got married right now to someone that wasn’t you?”

“I would die before that would happen!” you snarled. Going back, you realized what you said and quickly deflated. “Well, I… I would be deeply devastated. God, Cynthia, from the time in school to now, I realized I love him. He’s my best friend, my pillar, my rock. He’s been there for me so many times I can’t even count it all.”

“And then it gets even worse knowing that he wants a family too. I don’t know if you know Cynthia, but I’m so lonely up in the big bright lights of New York. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve considered adopting and artificial insemination, even gone to an IVF clinic. But it won’t be the same, because I want a family and my belly round and my kids playing in the backyard, and it scares me that I can see it all with him.”

You sighed glumly. “I should’ve just confessed to him at prom.”

Cynthia smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t you just tell him what you told me?”

“She just did.”

You both started violently, and saw a large shadow blocking the doorway.

Johnny.

Your girl best friend snorted and quickly exited, patting Johnny’s back on her way out.

“Johnny! You scared the hell out of me!” you scolded, your hand on your rapidly rising chest.

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest as he took a seat next to you.

“Do you have something to tell me, baby?”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Yes.”

“Go on, sweet cheeks. I won’t judge.”

However, his smug grin of a man knowing what’s about to come told you otherwise.

“Johnny!” you whined, flinging a throw pillow at him.

He ducked and snickered. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.”

You settled down and hugged yourself. “This may not be as long as what you said in the coffee shop, but Johnny… I’ve loved you since freshman year. I’ve loved you in every year after that, even when we got separated for almost a decade. I didn’t realize what I was missing in my life was you, that my life wasn’t right without my best friend by my side. When I came back home I wasn’t expecting anything, but I think an unconscious part of me hoped to see you. Everything I said with Cynthia is true and I—stop staring at me!’’

“I can’t, you’re too beautiful,” he deadpanned, but you saw the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“Just kiss me you– you tub of lard!”

Johnny effortlessly pulled you into his lap to straddle, arms snaking around your hips as he placed his lips onto yours.

All the tension immediately evaporated from your body, as your limbs felt like liquid in his arms. His tongue swiped against the bottom of your lips, and you found a shred of will inside of you and playfully resisted. He squeezed your side, the sensitive bit right under your breasts, and your lips parted automatically as you moaned.

You felt shivers wherever he touched you, but felt it was unfair he was giving and not receiving. Your nails combed through his hair, found a section of hair, tugged sharply.

He growled into the kiss and you felt his hard erection through his dress pants, poking at your inner thigh.

“Still think I’m a tub of lard?” he whispered at the corner of your mouth, flexing his thick thighs underneath you and pulling you closer to his rock-hard chest.

“Mmph, no, Johnny.”

His smoky eyes looked into yours. “Also, don’t, Y/N.”

“...what?” you said confusedly as you calmed down. Did you do something wrong?

“Don’t try to have kids through those… those methods.”

“Do you mean IVF? Artificial insemination?”

A nod.

A frown pulled at your lips and you leaned back unconsciously. “Johnny, don’t you understand? I want my own children so badly I can barely think, okay? I never thought I’d want to have one a few years ago, but call it mother’s instincts— “

“When you have a child, it’s going to be mine. You’re gonna have one the proper way—by me throughly fucking a baby into your cunt,” he hissed through his teeth, right into your ear.

Goosebumps rose along your skin and you clenched his shoulders harder as he suckled kisses along the side of your neck. With some, he even added little presses of the tongue, making you clench your legs around his torso tighter.

“My baby likes dirty talk, doesn’t she? Just like she liked my little game of footsie,” he laughed, puffs of air blooming on your sensitive skin.

“Johnny,” you weakly reprimanded. You then noticed the hands that were clasped at your knees, rubbing the sweet spot underneath, and felt a moisture pool in your lacy thong.

“So, whaddya say? You say yes and I drive to my apartment and fuck you until your stomach swells with my children, or I do it regardless of where we are.”

You finally realize you are heavily making out in a side hallway where someone could see you easily. While the idea was tempting, if not a bit hot, you visualize your naked bodies writhing as he slides in and out of you—

“Yes, please, Johnny, please.”

The ride to his apartment was surprisingly comfortable. After hastily leaving the party, you two hopped into his butterfly sports car and roared down the avenue.

Don’t get it wrong, the sexual tension was there and as present as ever, but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest. You folded your legs up to the side and leaned towards him, his right hand softly stroking your knee while he zoomed down the streets of Chicago.

An elevator ride later, you were admiring the night Chicago skyline from Johnny’s bedroom window as he pressed kisses onto your shoulders.

“Youngho,” you sighed, leaning into him.

He hummed and nipped lightly at your neck.

“C’mon babe, undress for me.”

He sauntered back to the bed as you fumbled with the pins in your hair, shaking your hair loose of the tight up-do it had been in.

You looked back to see Johnny at the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide and leaning back with an arm.

“I haven’t done this in a long time, so I’m probably going to disappoint you,” you warned as you set down the pins with a clink.

“Indulge me. I’ve been fantasizing about this moment since Junior year,” he smirked lazily.

You cast a doubtful look towards him, but obliged nonetheless.

Starting with your jewelry, you unclasped your necklace, earrings, and watch and carefully set them on the counter. Your heels were kicked off to the side, and that was left was your dress. You breathed in deeply and released, methodically unbuttoning your dress until it fell with a soft whisper on the floor.

You looked through your curtain of hair to gauge his reaction and Johnny looked dazed, his eyes slightly glassy with his mouth slightly parted.

“Youngho?”

“C’mere.”

You was sure your gait resembled a newborn foal rather than some sultry vixen, but Johnny did not seem to care. He pulled you into his lap once again, but this time sideways.

His kisses trailed innocently at the top of your bra and you find yourself impatient. “I thought you were going to fuck my cunt?” you pronounced succinctly.

Johnny’s teeth bit harshly at the tops of your breasts, eliciting a harsh hiss from you. “Now you’ve done it, baby.”

You giggled as he practically threw you onto the bed, a male moan of appreciation slipping from his lips when he saw you splayed out for him. He ducked in to steal a kiss, supporting himself with his toned arms and you grasped the back of his head.

Johnny licked a long stripe on your clavicle as you gave a sharp tug on the knot of his tie. Removing the black tie, your fingers quickly got to work unbuttoning his shirt. He got on his knees to tug it off in one glorious motion, exposing his well-built chest to your hungry eyes.

It was surreal to see this Johnny kneeling before you, topless and licking his lips, and it was hard to find any trace of the boy in Naruto pajamas everywhere.

“Get up for me baby, scoot up a bit,” he urged.

As you obeyed, you took the chance to slip off your bra. Heat rose to stay permanently on your cheeks as you unclasped it and shrugged it off. You nipples quickly stiffened to the air and Johnny looked absolutely delighted.

Your eyes tracked him as he leaned forward and carefully weighed one in his large hands. His thumb brushed the soft underside of your breast and your shoulders quivered like a leaf in the wind.

“All for me to play with?” he said under his breath, looking entranced by the pliant flesh in his hands.

Getting between your legs, his tongue laved at the skin of your breasts, “accidental” licks getting you to squirm. Johnny’s plump lips continued their trail to your stomach and finally kissed the edges of your thong.

“May I?” he asked formally, raising his gleaming eyes to yours.

You nodded and his nimble fingers dragged your panties down, forcing you to brace your calves against his shoulders. He tossed them carefully to the vanity before lowering himself to eye level with your pussy.

“My pretty baby has such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she?” he cooed, thumbs rubbing the crux of your thighs.

Whining in agreement, you opened your legs wider for his perusal and looked away in embarrassment.

Johnny tsked and forced your chin to look at down at him. “Look at me.”

He wouldn’t let go until you leaned your head into his palm. He held eye contact with you as he slowly pressed his lips against your labia, your eyes widening and mewl escaping your lips.

You slammed your hand against your mouth as he began exploring, curling into the pillow and looking heavenward. His tongue peaked out and caressed the hood of your clit, beckoning for it to come. You muffled a scream when he used his tongue more liberally, reaching deeper and curling into the walls of your pussy. Your hips lifted off the mattress as you writhed underneath his torturous tongue until Johnny’s hands clamped down and forced your limbs onto the bed.

He was truly gifted at this, easily finding the spots that made you squirm. It felt like hours passed as he used his flexible tongue on you, playing you easily, and you slipped in and out of reality. But then he suckled, and you lost it.

Your limbs flailed as you wailed, suffocated with a blanket of pleasure. You had no idea what to do with your hands, switching places from tugging at your hair to squeezing your arms and even grasping Johnny’s thick locks until you settled for grasped the edges of the pillow next to you.

“No! Johnny, I- I can’t— oh my god—Agh!”

He shushed you quickly, murmuring “you can take it” against your thighs. You felt the pressure inside your stomach build, holding your breath as it inched closer and closer to that edge. Johnny finally pressed his thumb against your clit and you let out a full-throated scream, succumbing to the wave of pleasure dragging you under. Your knees knocked together painfully and you slid further down the mattress, pussy gushing out underneath you.

But no; he cruelly drew it out, kept on rubbing circles into your sensitive flesh until your eyes rolled to the back of your head and were unable to speak.

A few breathless moments passed and he broke the silence. “Not only are my oral skills great, but my oral skills are too” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes, before yelping as one of the aftershocks wracked your limbs.

Johnny merely chuckled before flipping you onto your stomach, face down on the mattress. Peeking over your shoulder, you glimpsed Johnny tugging off his pants and boxers until his hard erection stood proud, springing back and forth in the air. You gulped; it was a beautiful pink, veiny as hell, topped with a mushroom tip oozing out pre cum. Most importantly, it was huge —you had no idea he was packing that underneath his gym shorts— and looked to be the girth of your wrist.

“Johnny, i-is it gonna fit?” you stuttered nervously.

He smiled proudly at you, his hand stroking his cock up and down. “You have one tight pussy, love, but I’ve prepped you a lot and we’ll make it work. Don’t worry, okay?”

With that he forced your head against the sheets, taking away your vision completely. You felt extremely vulnerable with your butt raised high up in the air, but Johnny quickly grasped your hips and rubbed his cock against the seam of your pussy lips, lathering it in your cum.

“Tell me, baby, how much do you want this?”

“So much!” you murmured into the mattress.

He thrust his hips just a bit and his tip quickly slid in and out of you. “What was that?”

“Johnny, please! I want it so much!” you moaned into the mattress.

“Say it. I want to hear filth from your pretty lips,” he hissed, sounding impatient. He certainly felt impatient, his hands gripping your hips so hard they would surely bruise and his erection throbbing against your quim.

“I want you to fuck me raw with your huge cock! I want your cum leaking from my pussy—please, Johnny, please! Fuck me!” you cried.

“My dirty girl,” he purred. HIs lined his cock up with your entrance and slowly sank in, both of you groaning reactively. His dick stretched you and it toed the line between pain and pleasure but, nevertheless, you sunk your hips into his.

“Not— not too fast, Youngho. You’re really, really big,” you whimpered. He waited for a while before leisurely thrusting in and then picking up pace.

“Oh fuck, Youngho, just like that,” you moaned. He also let out strangled groans of pleasure, echoing in his large bedroom. Crude slaps of flesh against flesh reverberated in your ears, puncturing the sound of blood roaring in your veins. His testes smacked periodically against your clit and you could not stop the indecent noises coming from your mouth.

“Good?” he grunted, his sweaty black bangs sticking to his forehead as he thrust. You could imagine his chest gleaming with sweat from the city lights and the image made you wetter, if possible.

A particularly sharp thrust jolted your hips, and kept his hips flush against yours with his cock in you. “I said, good?”

“Fuck, I like it—it’s so good— and, oh my gosh, I love it, I love it, I love it—” you rambled incoherently.

He snorted and pulled out.

“Youngho, don’t stop—”

“Get on your back, baby. Let me see you.”

With great effort, you rolled over and your vision of him did no justice. He looked ethereal, gleaming in his sweat. Shadows played across his body as his muscles flexed and contracted and you were breathless.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Y/N.”

A terrible mixture of excitement and arousal arose from you. The idea of him fucking you full of his come and looking down at your round belly was almost too much. You whined up at him, wiggling your hips.

He tsked in disapproval. “Nuh-uh, legs up, sweetheart. Missionary is the best way to get you pregnant.”

You truly were worried that your arousal would leak down your legs as you lifted your limbs up to his broad shoulders. He firmly grasped the sides of your stomach and pulled you closer to him.

As you were watching him with a sort of breathless excitement, he was glued to the sight of his cock sinking into your pussy, bewitched by the way your folds parted for his cock like the blooming of a flower. Johnny quickly put a hand over the lower half of your stomach, thrusting robustly upwards and while you screamed, he wore a shit-eating grin on his face.

“W-What is it, Johnny?” you breathed harshly.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned loudly as he thrust once more. “F-feel this, baby.”

He put your hand where his had previously been and thrust upwards. Your lips parted in wonder when you felt a small bulge form underneath your hand. His cock was that big?

“Holy—Agh!— shit,” you pant.

His eyes flared with lust as he rammed his cock in again, just to see that little bump appear, and did so again and again until you heard his fancy bed frame start to creak.

This position was by far the best, even if it was good ol’ missionary. The slight curve to his cock caused the head to press deliciously into the walls of your pussy, and you felt him much closer than ever before.

You could spot his thick, muscled thighs ripple with the effort he was putting into fucking you and gripped the sheets much harder. Noises of content, ‘yes’s’ and ‘fuck’s!’ spat out with increasing frequency, permeated the air thick of the scent of sex and sweat.

He slipped your legs off his shoulders and around his waist before supporting himself above you with his veiny forearms. “Homestretch, baby.”

You were cut off from snorting as you screamed, his cock ramming into your hips. In-and-out, the delicious stretch repeating over and over again until you felt a familiar haze spread over you.

“I’m going to stuff you full of cum, Y/N. I’m going to knock you up with the baby you so desperately want, right? A baby with my eyes and your hair?” he growled.

You heart skipped a beat. How did he know what you saw?

“Mmm! Yes, yes! I’ll be barefoot and pregnant for you!”

“Your pussy takes my cock so well, baby, so well, you don’t even know. Fuck, I’m just imagining my cum on your pretty pink pussy lips.”

He went in so deep, until you felt his balls pressing into your ass and the tip of his cock pressing into your womb.You felt so filled, physically and emotionally, as you basked in the man thrusting into you like a piston.

The same in-and-out of reality experience occurred and you found your eyes rolling back into your head, not registering anything else. You felt like you were sinking in molasses, pleasure and bliss cocooning you tight and secure. The familiar wave was starting to build up again.

You came back to your senses as his hand drifted in between you and hovered near the crux of your thighs. In concurrence with his solid thrusting, his thumb began harshly rubbing circles into your clit, zings of delight firing over your whole body.

“Cum, baby, I know you want to. I can feel your tight pussy fluttering all over my cock,” he grunted.

His cock hit your cervix and your hands made vicious marks against his back as you wailed loudly in pleasure. The wave had crested but Johnny had not stopped whatsoever. Your best friend was still in desperate search for his peak that he thrust even faster, overstimulating you so much you inadvertently thrashed to get away from him.

A choked cry left your lips as he ruthlessly pulled your hips back and inserted his cock again, this time slamming into you with a force caused loud creaks from the bed frame.

“You don’t get to stop until there’s a goddamn baby in you. God, I’m going to cum so fucking hard.”

“Fill me up, Johnny.” you goaded. “Make me yours forever. Put a fucking baby in my belly.”

“Shit!” he hissed out.

You felt the spurts of his come from the tip and you wrapped yourself around him tighter as he let out a strangled moan, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Biting the spot between your collarbone and your neck, Johnny added to the collection of red and purple you were sure was already there. He gave little staccato thrusts as you felt more and more cum fill up your pussy, until an obscene squelching sound was heard as he was moving in and out of you.

He panted for a few moments, kneeling back onto the bed and spreading your legs wide. You attempted to cover your seeping pussy but he brushed your hand aside and focused on the small stream of white leaking.

“You look gorgeous like that, Y/N. Tired and sated with my cum leaking out of you.”

You scooped up some of the excess and brought it to your lips, sucking his salty cum off of your fingers one by one. You raised an eyebrow.

He groaned and wrapped you into his side, as if asking the universe “What am I going to do with her?”. You smiled snuggled into his side, happy that you finally weren’t alone anymore.

“Johnny... I’m ovulating today. There is a huge, huge chance of me getting pregnant. D-do you really, really want to this baby? Do you really… do you really want a family? With me?” you whispered.

“Let me show you something.” He climbed out of bed, naked as the day he was born, and returned to the room a navy suit jacket when you saw him at the cafe. He pulled out one of the heart-shaped pink Post-It notes you gave to him ironically during sophomore year and handed it to you.

On the paper, it had a date and some scribbled words.

11/4/2XXX

I’m going to marry Y/N.

“I wrote that in 10th grade,” he murmured beside you. “I’m more confident in myself that I can owe up to those words. I feel like… like I’m worthy of you now.”

“Oh, Youngho,” you sighed, thumb stroking his plump lips. You kissed them and smiled up at the man who was your best friend, your lover—the man you wanted to marry and have kids with. How could you ever repay him for making you feel whole again? “I accept the you from then and the you now. Whatever you are and wherever you are, you are always worthy of love.”

Please don’t forget to like, comment and reblog! I would also really appreciate that if you liked my work enough, that you would consider supporting me by buying me a kofi at ko-fi.com/caiuscassiuss. Thank you so much for reading!

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 3 years ago

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Losing candidates of the last 60 years

1960: Richard Nixon, Vice President (1953 - 1961), unsuccessfully ran for governor of California in 1962 after which he threw a piss baby shit fit press conference where he vowed to retire from politics, but rescinded that vow to run for president again in 1968, this time successfully because the Democratic vote was split between liberal northerner Hubert Humphrey and conservative southerner George Wallace (Nixon won with 43.4% of the vote, a record low not broken until Bill Clinton with 43.0% in 1992)

1964: Barry Goldwater, Senator from Arizona (1953 - 1965, 1969 - 1987), segregationist, staunch "states rights" activist, mentor to Ronald Reagan, father of modern conservatism, retired in the 80s, replaced by the more moderate John McCain

1968: Hubert Humphrey, Vice President (1965 - 1969), former senator from Minnesota (49 - 64) father of modern liberalism, would be considered a progressive by today's standards, pro-civil rights, later re-elected to the senate (71 - 78, died in office).

1968b: George Wallace, governor of Alabama (63 - 67), staunch segregationist, made Barry Goldwater look like MLK, famously stood on the school house door to try and stop integration, didn't let black people vote, nearly assassinated in 1972, paralyzed, continued serving as governor (71 - 79, 83 - 87), renounced racism later in life, claimed he was never truly racist, just pretended to be because he supported "states rights" (bullshit). Most recent third-party candidate to win a state.

1972: George McGovern, senator from South Dakota (63 - 81), lost every state but Massachusetts and DC, in part because President Nixon cheated (Watergate scandal, Nixon hired goons to wiretap DNC and steal intel from their HQ, forged a letter to discredit strong candidate Edmund Muskie to he would drop out and give the nomination to weak McGovern, tried to plant McGovern's campaign literature in Wallace's assassins apartment so conservative southerners would associate the attack with the Democratic Party and vote for Nixon instead)

1976: Gerald Ford, President (74 - 77), Republican House leader (65 - 73), became VP in 73 after Spiro Agnew resigned due to a bribery scandal. Democrats controlled Congress, so Nixon nominated Ford because he was a popular bipartisan mediator who the Democrats wouldn't object to, became president when Nixon himself resigned due to Watergate (Ford is the only president who was never elected to the presidency of vice presidency), started out super popular but tanked his credibility when he pardoned Nixon for his crimes

1980: Jimmy Carter, President (77 - 81), governor of Georgia (71 - 75), elected as a Washington outsider, humble peanut farmer, boring, malaise, fumbled Iran thrice (the revolution, recession, and hostage crisis), lost re-election to actor turned governor Ronald Reagan (segregationist Goldwater's protege; started his career giving anti-union speeches in the 60s despite being the president of the Screen Actor's Guild, a major union), had a much more successfully post-presidency than presidency, Habitat for Humanity, philanthropy

1984: Walter Mondale, Vice President (77 - 81), Senator from Minnesota (64 - 76), protege and successor to Hubert Humphrey, decent man, very boring, lost every state but Minnesota and DC, would later become ambassador to Japan under Clinton (93 - 96)

1988: Michael Dukakis, governor of Massachusetts (75 - 79, 83 - 91), army specialist (55 - 57), rode in a tank wearing a bullet proof vest and doofy headphones, looked like an idiot, actually polled ahead of VP Bush for a while, forgettable

1992: George HW Bush, President (89 - 94), VP (81 - 89), relatively moderate before becoming Reagan's VP (referred to trickle down as "voodoo economics"), said "read my lips, no new taxes," then raised taxes, oversaw Gulf War, sent the troops in, Iraq retreated without a fight, war was over in a couple days. Didn't invade Iraq, didn't topple Saddam; his son claims this is why he lost re-election, so he invaded Iraq and toppled Saddam in 2003, to finish what his daddy started. Faced opposition from both Democrats under Clinton and Independents under Perot; Perot didn't win a single state, but took 19% of the vote, the strongest third-party campaign all century

1992b: Ross Perot, businessman, independent, very strong candidate, qualified for debates with the major party candidates, closest thing to a 3-way race we've had since Teddy Roosevelt in 1912 (Wallace won some states in 68, but only had regional appeal; he was only on the ballot in the South, only conservatives liked him, whereas Perot was a nationwide spoiler)

1996: Bob Dole, senator from Kansas (69 - 96) senate majority leader (85 - 87, 95 - 96), fought in WW2, has a bum arm, the senate's version of Newt Gingrich, helped defeat Clinton's healthcare plan (he's part of the reason we can't have nice things). He was VP candidate under Ford in 76; Ford's VP Rockefeller was too liberal (yes, liberal Republicans used to exist, just as conservative Democrats exist), so Ford replaced him with the conservative Dole to appeal to Nixon and Reagan voters (Reagan almost unseated Ford in 76 for the nomination)

1996b: Ross Perot again, Reform Party, didn't get nearly as much support this time around (only 8.4%)

2000: Al Gore, Vice President (93 - 01), senator from Tennessee (85 - 93), very boring, but competent, actually won the election but Bush's brother was governor of Florida and illegally stopped the recount, delaying it until it was too late to restart it (subsequent investigation shows Gore would have won the recount and therefore the presidency), used his post-VP career to be a climate change advocate

2004: John Kerry, senator for Massachusetts (1985 - 2013), unremarkable but competent, lost because Bush started 2 wars and the country didn't want to change horses midstream, later became Secretary of State under Obama (13 - 17), and climate envoy under Biden (a position Biden made up to try and appeal to green advocates, but it doesn't really mean anything because he opposes the green new deal)

2008: John McCain, senator from Arizona (1987 - 2018, died in office), succeeded Goldwater but not nearly as conservative (at least, not a segregationist; he defended Obama as "a good man" when a Karen called him an Arab, got booed for it), Vietnam veteran, war monger (wanted to bomb Iran after Bush bombed Iraq and Afghanistan), actually saved healthcare by voting against Trump and McConnell's Obamacare repeal (he didn't support Obamacare, he just didn't want millions of Americans to lose their insurance; the Republicans didn't have a replacement plan, they were solely dedicated to getting rid of Obama's)

2012: Mitt Romney, governor of Massachusetts (03 - 07), relative moderate (Massachusetts is the bluest state in the country), super Mormon, hates poor people, kind of racist in a grandfatherly way ("oh, peepaw doesn't hate black people, he just grew up in a different era"), once wore brown face to try and appear tan to Hispanic voters, later became senator from Utah (2019 - present), first senator to ever vote to convict a president of their own party in impeachment (twice!)

2016: Hillary Clinton, Secretary of State (09 - 13), senator from New York (01 - 09), First Lady (93 - 01), boring gramma, disingenuous, moderate but pretends to be progressive, wasn't responsible for Benghazi but blamed for it anyway, out of touch, thinks she's the hottest shit since sliced bread, coasted to second place because she thought she didn't have to try, thought she deserved to be President, actually won the popular vote, but lost the electoral college because of low voter turnout, high third-party media coverage, and a major rightward swing in the Rust Belt

2020: Donald Trump, president (17 - 21), no prior experience, dumbest person to ever hold the office (makes George W Bush look like. Rhode's Scholar), diet Fascist: all the ideology, none of the appeal (fascists are usually good speakers, but Trump only had a base of about 35 - 40% of the country, which he couldn't grow, so instead he tried to shrink the opposition by attacking voting rights and calling the election fraudulent), super racist, super sexist, petty, vindictive, cruel, childish, spent the first two years just undoing everything Obama did for no other reason than he just hated the man (there are legitimate reasons to hate Obama, but Trump chose racism and jealousy over valid criticism), first president to be impeached twice, first president to have members of his own party vote to convict him, had a cult-like following among Republicans, close to zero support from everyone else

2024: TBD

#elections #history #American history #us history #long post

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years ago

Note

👀👀👀22👀👀👀👀 (baby you already know what the fuck this is about)

If anyone is curious this drabble belongs to a very specific universe that Tiernan and I have been building over the past couple of months. You can check out the Pinterest here. This is for the bodyguard trope from this list.

November 20, 1990 — Austin, TX

“Right this way, Ms. Douglas,” The aide said, ushering Teagan down the long marble corridor, adorned with grand portraits of past senators and busts of other noted heads of state.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she followed the aide into an office, just beyond the staircase.

It had been a whirlwind of a week since election night. She was still weeks out from entering into office — and yet, she was already in the state capitol worrying about the future of her career in the House of Representatives.

She had won by a narrow margin, unseating the Republican incumbent who had occupied the seat long enough to become a father, grandfather, and great grandfather. But the man had been a stalwart figurehead in the state, and the sort of leader that had attracted a very specific field of supporters.

Ones who weren’t amenable to the idea of being represented by a thirty-year-old strongly progressive woman, whose family had arrived in America during the Great Depression. These were, after all, the same Texans who had voted to send George H. W. Bush to the White House.

But they had also elected Ann Richards into the governor’s seat — and she was already making moves ahead of taking office in January.

“Governor-Elect Richards, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Teagan offered as she greeted the older woman.

“Please, you can call me Ann.” She smiled at her as they shook hands. “And this is Javier Peña, former DEA.” Ann said as she gestured to the man sitting rather stiffly on the sofa.

“Ms. Douglas,” Javier said as he rose and crossed the room to shake her hand. “That was a hell of a campaign you ran.”

Teagan laughed, “I owe it all to my team and my constituents. What district are you in?”

“Twenty-eighth.” He answered with a faint smirk, “Don’t worry, I voted for you.” He gestured to Ann then, “Someone already thoroughly vetted me.”

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you into a meeting with a former DEA agent.”

“Only a little.” Teagan remarked as the three of them moved to sit down. “I was led to believe that this meeting had to do with what happened over the weekend.”

“It does.” Ann said with a frown. “Javier here recently left the DEA after an extensive and impressive career in Colombia.”

Teagan made a note of how he shifted at her words, nervously adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt beneath his tan suit.

“Pablo Escobar.” Teagan said as the realization dawned on her. “I’ve tried to keep up with everything, but with the election—“

“I wouldn’t get too wrapped up in it.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “No offense, but I don’t see congress doing shit to settle it.” He looked towards Ann then, “Apologies.”

Ann clasped her hands together, “Your team approached mine about helping to find you someone to cover security. It seems your current contract leaves something to be desired.”

Teagan nodded, “I would say that.”

“Javier worked for me during my own campaign.” Ann explained, “I offered him a permanent post here at the capitol come January, but I don’t think he’s looking to be tied down here in Texas.” The older woman turned to give him an expectant look.

Javier leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I can’t promise that I’ll remain on your team through your term, but I’ll make sure the team you're left with can offer the protection you deserve.”

“So you’re looking to come to D.C. with me?”

He shrugged a shoulder, “These fuckers — sorry — they’re not going to stop once you move to D.C., Ms. Douglas. They want their pound of flesh and they won’t stop until they have it. You can take your current security detail with you, but I’m the best you’re going to find.”

“Someone’s sure of their abilities.” Teagan said lightly, arching a brow across at him. “If you’re coming with the recommendation of Ann Richards — I think the only thing I can do is accept.”

Ann smiled broadly, “Then it’s decided.”

Javier glanced between Ann and Teagan, “I’ll get my things in order then. When do you move?”

“First week of December and then I’m back here for Christmas.” Teagan explained, brushing out the wrinkles in her skirt. “My outgoing head of security will touch base with you, I guess?”

He scratched at the back of his ear, “You and I need to go through logistics. I’ll need access to your itinerary, list of addresses, contacts for your inner circle.”

“He’ll be a hover.” Ann said with a chuckle, looking quite pleased with herself.

“Considering your current team seems to be failing at their one job, trust me when I say I’ll be hands-on.” Javier assured Teagan, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

Against better judgement, Teagan couldn’t help but imagine a different implication of hands-on. Sure, he was about to be working beneath her, but she wasn’t blind.

Despite how uncomfortable he looked in a suit, he pulled the look off with impeccable ease. The mustache seemed dated, but it somehow suited him better than what she imagined as the alternative. He had kind eyes — tired, but kind eyes.

But she quickly pushed those thoughts far from the forefront of her mind. She had serious issues at hand and none of them had to do with her soon-to-be head of security’s appearance. She needed him to be good at his job.

“I don’t want to take up any more of Ann’s time,” Teagan nodded her head towards the Governor-Elect. “Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee and discuss plans.”

“You want to grab coffee two days following an attempt on your life?”

Teagan frowned at him, “I ran on a platform of accessibility. I’m not going to hide in my parents’ house until I move to D.C., Javier.”

Javier laughed incredulously, “That accessibility is why you need a protective detail, Ms. Douglas. We’re not discussing security plans in the open and you’re not going to parade around in the open.” He paused, before added. “Just yet.” As if to assuage her annoyance.

“Great.” Teagan sighed heavily. “Is my mother’s kitchen table too out in the open? I think she’s got a coffee pot.”

“That would be perfect,” He drawled out, entirely avoiding her scathing tone. “These will just be preliminary plans. They’ll evolve as we move forward.”

Teagan ignored him as she stood, “Thank you Ann. I appreciate your willingness to lose such a valuable asset.” She leveled him with a look then, “I drove myself here. Is that allowed?”

“Yep.” He retorted, letting the word pop past his lip. “I’ll follow. Lead the way.”

#javier pena x original character #pedro pascal x original character #javier pena #grapemama

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calypsoff · 4 years ago

Text

Sixty Six. Part 2

To say the least it was kind of nice to have Chris in bed with me even though we slept apart, it was just nice and warm in the bed with him. Lifting my head up and looking behind me, he’s not in bed of course “looking for me” looking to the door, he caught me “not exactly, just checking if you left because I am on the edge of the bed, took all the space” resting my head back on the pillow “have you seen how skinny I am, that is a lie” a smile formed on my face “is that breakfast?” I questioned “for me yes” pulling a face at him “I’m joking, it’s for you” I let out an oh and I turned onto my back “miss me that much?” Lifting the covers over me, my boobs are everywhere recently. They are big, big for me anyways “uh, let’s not get above your station now. You want to sit up?” Nodding my head, wish he could pick me with his skinny self. Shuffling up on the bed, I feel his eyes on me so much, I can feel his gaze “stop it” I mumbled, Chris chuckled “what? I can’t look, we married” fixing the covers over my legs smiling “you grown, like a lot. I think your nipples are happy” pulling at my tee laughing “nigga” looking up at him “is that the rose from my bed?” I pointed out “does it matter?” He placed the tray on my lap, didn’t think he knew where things were in this home “I deserve a fresh one, I wanted two” Chris groaned out “I’m joking, awww this is so cute Chris. Thank you, really mean it” he moved back smiling, he is so proud of himself “I will put the TV on for you, I’m going back down. I’m making myself some food” letting out an oh “Rorrey not stayed here?” He shook his head making his way around the bed “he left, maybe he has a lady, but he went after my court case. What trash you want to watch?” He is cute, made me four boiled eggs and toast and took the crust off for me, he is the cutest “erm, anything. You not going to eat upstairs then? Nobody is here” I asked “I will come back up after, I’m just going to get something” I need this “I like your tan, you look good” he is cute, I keep saying this but he is being the cutest.

I was actually waiting for him to come back and he did, with a bowl of cereal that he took so long to get “it’s nice to know you know how to keep a house clean, we need to have arguments more often don’t we” watching him walk around the bed “no, no more. I am sick, I just miss you. It’s always me in the doghouse, you do something dumb then I can have this bed” what is he like “whatever, but I ain’t forgiven you just yet” I lied, he sat on the edge of the bed “and I get it, that is why I posted your baby picture. Like the longer you don’t forgive the worse the pictures get” mean mugging him, I didn’t peep a word but stare at him. He looked behind him at me and laughed “you need to quit that shit, you look like a fanpage. Getting on my damn nerves!” Annoying ass “nah, I ain’t quitting. Until I meet Rihanna, it’s my dream too” I shuddered as he slurped the milk from the bowl “getting flashbacks, you know I slurp good” how did he know I shuddered “be quiet, so what did you do while I was away? Cry yourself to sleep?” He turned his body to me so he can see me “I slept on your side of the bed and sniffed your panties, stank as hell” I swear I wanted to throw my pillow at him but that means I would have to move “you’re actually nasty, I finished my breakfast thank you. I appreciate it” he grinned at me “I will take your plate then” shaking my head “I can, don’t” he shot up from the bed “no, let me. Please; I want to show you something” oh he got something to show me “ok, you go for it then” I sat back on the bed.

Chris came back in the bedroom with the biggest grin on his face, it’s kind of weird that he is smiling the way he is “what?” He made his way over to me “mhmm I came to give you this” he bought forward a box “awww for me?” I love gifts “yes” taking the white box from him “hope you like it” he sat on the edge of the bed “depends, I might dislike it and then you will have to get something else” pulling at the bow “you’re stressful” shaking my head smiling, pulling open the box “a chain” lifting the box up “yeah, just scan it. On Spotify, find out what it is” reaching over and grabbing my phone “I have Apple Music?” Chris side eyed me “I’m playing, I have both apps” he is getting annoyed with me, let me stop playing with him. Sliding across to find the app “I have so much on this phone” tapping on Spotify “so I just take a picture of it” Chris reached over and fixed the chain “tap that, now do it” he tapped my camera “don’t act like you know what you’re doing now” taking a picture and the then it loaded “oh” our first dance song “I hate you” I paused, placing the back of my hand just over my mouth feeling myself getting choked up. I breathed out moving my hand back looking down at my phone as the song played “you really hurt me Chris” looking up at him, wiping the tears that fell, stopping the song “forget everything, the media coverage but just your actions, you hurt me. And that is what bugged me the most, you didn’t take fault. You just blamed others and even then you didn’t admit to it, you lied to my face. You caused me so much stress for what?” I sniffled “you wanted me to break you down and even then you did it back at me, you hurt me a lot. Hurt that didn’t need to happen, worst of all Chris I felt like you didn’t want me, like you regretted being married. I felt the hard work for us just went and I was being judged because of it, I was so hurt by you. Then you didn’t even call and you can’t justify doing that, you just forgot about me. I am pregnant and anything could happen, it hurt me being in that bed when you weren’t there. I had to hurt you, you had to feel the hurt I feel because I felt unworthy like I did with Rakim and it was so unfair, so very unfair” wiping my tears as more tears came, he did hurt me.

“I was thinking like why me, I married him is he not happy with me. I just hated that I was pregnant and married because then I can’t do anything but be at home. I look the fool because people were being so rude about it, while I was hurt you was in Canada and even when I questioned it you lied and yeah, I just was hurt by your actions more than anything. You knew what you did and didn’t want to handle the consequences when everything was good with us, what else could I do to make you better. Where do I go wrong that you had to entertain some whore, I questioned myself and I was hurting so much. If you were my boyfriend Chris I would have got you back a whole lot worse but I’m not in that era of my life, I am going to be a mother, so I have that mentality, but I feel you strayed away from that” I took in a deep breath “thank you for this though” I don’t remember if I said that to him.

“I’m sorry Robyn I am, I fucked up. I really did, and in that moment you don’t see it because it’s not bad, I am not excusing what I did. And also what I did when I came home, I was so close to losing you and I was scared of that, if we are being truthful. I questioned myself if getting married is what I wanted so early on and I have been questioned that at the interview and I meant what I said, I don’t regret it because I have peace in my heart, it’s been horrible without you Robyn, every day just waking up lonely. I felt like shit, I was lost in the moment and I became the asshole you always say I am, and for that I am so sorry, I really mean it. I hate to see you cry and I rather be here making it up to you then lose you, my daughter. I can’t wait to meet her, hoes are for then and not for a lifetime, but my intention was never that, when I was speaking to India in that setting it was literally oh you moved to Cali, you love it there and whatever and then she said it to me, are you up for cheating. I was shocked, how can one be so upfront about it, I was shocked. And me not calling you, I am sorry. I got to Drake’ home and lost my mind, I didn’t even do that on my stag night, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I hurt you” I am glad he understands “but I mean what I say, I love you and I don’t regret anything that happened between us, the high life got the better of me and I am not like that, I am really not but I lost myself. I am just going to watch myself for next time, if there is of course” he laughed, he knows damn well he is banned for now.

I swallowed hard “the things that went on in my mind, I didn’t want our daughter to be in that setting. I just always wanted different for my kids. A loving father, it would break me if my kids didn’t get that and I was just panicking that I made that mistake, I didn’t know this man I was seeing” my voice broke, I am so emotional about this “I was so worried, I know nothing in life is perfect but I would like my kids to have a father that loves them, then I found out it’s a girl and I just thought back to me. Broken home, I am scared of that a lot. I know I didn’t make a mistake but it’s when everyone was saying it, I rushed, and I didn’t think. Got to me, and me. I have issues myself, giving myself to any man anyways so giving myself to you and you did that, it brings me bad memories and it makes me fearful. Mel and I did see Captain, twice actually” I laughed sniffling “he said that he never said it would be perfect, but your husband he is a good guy. He means no harm, I know you want to leave. And I felt like that because you came home and made it worst to me, your shitty attitude towards me and it’s like with you, if I don’t break you down you continue this circle of being a dick. I have said it countless times, you are awful with your mouth and your temper can be bad. Speaking about it with you, it has made me upset again of course but we didn’t speak on it because I stopped speaking to you in a way and then in Mexico it was more me breaking you down. I just want you to understand that it’s not just me and you but we have a child now, and what we do now will affect our child and I want our child to have the best, I will do just that” I didn’t expect me to cry like that “I get it, you have always been fearful of having a deadbeat father for your kid, I know that was a fear of yours and I don’t blame you for it. I am not saying it will ever happen, but I promise you I would be the best dad to our kids, you know we going to have more so yeah” I smiled a little “I am taking you out by the way, tonight. I am paying” looking up at me “really?” he nodded his head “I got to make it up to you, I love you Robyn. I want you to understand that I ain’t ever going to let that happen again, I got burnt” I think he has realised that now.

I thought I would look cute, seeing as Chris is taking me out I want to impress my little date for the night so I am wearing an off the shoulder wrap midi dress in white, I think I look cute as hell so we shall see from his reaction. I do hope he takes me Giorgio Baldi, I am kind of missing that place. Watching my step as I made my way down the steps, I have been trying to keep myself away from the heels, but I feel cute today, my feet have kind of got better so I don’t want to be in heels because they are getting better “I hear you coming down now” I stopped walking staring at him “I am joking, wow twin. Oh wow, you look amazing omg!” he grinned stepping back, his reaction made me smile “you look so fucking good Robyn, wow! I mean can we swap the dinner part and just you know” making my way down the steps and to the bottom “to the what? Why, what is happening after dinner huh?” Chris laughed “joking, wow. You look so good, like look at you” he clasped his hands together staring me up and down “be quiet, is the Uber here?” seeing as his ass doesn’t know how to get an SUV “actually I know how to do it, it’s the SUV” he bit his bottom lip, he is feeling me I can see the look in his eye “well let’s go then, after you. Don’t keep a pregnant lady waiting” I am hungry as hell right now.

I proud of him that he can finally order the SUV, it’s not even hard either “where are you taking me?” I have a feeling but I still need confirmation “your place twin, I know there isn’t any other place you would rather go now” I grinned “thank you, I have missed that place” I am excited “you do look amazing, I am not even joking. Like there is plenty of pregnant women but nothing like you, can we take a picture?” nodding my head “I love all my fans, you know that” Chris shuffled over to me “but that means you stop posting me every morning, please. You’re torturing me now” Chris taking a selfie to me is hilarious, but I am going to let him have it, he raised his phone taking a selfie. Wrapping my arm around his to move in closer, he is terrible, but I won’t say it. I just turned my face and kissed his cheek, them angles are bad “that is it, that means sex now” moving my arm back “whatever” he moved away from me “I am going to put I met Rihanna, and after that I will stop the pictures” I smiled “thank god!” I spat, he chuckled looking down at his phone “can I touch your bump? It’s been a while” he asked me without even looking at me, his face in his phone “sure, why not” Chris looked over at me, he reached his hand over and placed it on my bump and I just felt butterflies “mega mind baking” I kissed my teeth, he ruined that.

I am happy, he is spoiling me. Taking me out, got me a chain. He has listened to me cry and has just listened to me, I am happy “you look so happy to be in this bitch, this place is mediocre” here he goes “stop” I mumbled “I wanted to speak to you about Mel by the way, I mean I know this is not about Mel but I want to just mention that she is not staying with us anymore, she will be getting her stuff soon, just until it is safe to do so. I am not upset she is going but I am upset on why she is, what you said to Mel was very hurtful and she felt it, Mel and I came from the same place, the same background. We came up together, just like you wanted to help your friends so did I, I took Mel with me everywhere so yes the only thing she knows is to support me, and when you said what you said it hit her hard because you’re not wrong she has dedicate herself to helping me, to always making sure I am ok, I have Jen yes, but Mel is my main. You know that and she feels very low about herself, I said it’s not like that don’t move but she is but I would appreciate it in your own time but to say sorry because nobody deserves those words, she was there for me. I needed someone there, she came all the way from Barbados, and then you said what you said. I am not taking sides, but I want both you and my sister to get along, I want her to know that my door is open and not closed to her, I feel she is depressed, and she has been speaking to Barry still for you, she helped you get out of this Chris. Barry wanted you to go down for it all, he had it all for you to go down, she talked him into not doing it. Sold herself short because he thought they was getting back together, they aren’t but she did that for you but also she knew I needed you, but please just think about it” that is a long ass line “she really did that?” Chris questioned “yes for you” he is shocked “I don’t want her to move out, that wasn’t my intention. I was just angry; I know how close you both are I always expect Mel there with you. I will sort it out, promise” I believe he will “that is mad respect for what she did for me, wow” I think he sees that she wasn’t that bad one.

Tilting my head to the side “you seem annoyed” he does look it, I know him well “just this person is taking pictures and videoing and it’s like annoying, you got up and they was doing it” nodding my head, I always know when someone is doing that “it’s normal, it happens” I shrugged it off “aye bro, why you taking pictures of my wife, like you done it constantly. Even when she walking, just stop” he called him out and the place fell awfully quiet, I didn’t look but just looked at Chris’ face “leave it now” placing my hand over his “leave it ok, I seen you ripped out the bedroom for the baby” changing the subject “oh yeah I did, oh I made a mistake and I thought you told your family about the sex of the baby” I groaned out “It’s just Rorrey” I blowing out air “mhmm it’s fine, I want to have a baby shower and expose what I am having then, it’s fine. But how do you feel? It’s not the boy you wanted” I know he kept saying that “erm, I guess excited. I am, I think it’s going to be the biggest blessing to me” he seems nervous, made me smile “at the scan she was so active, moving away a lot and then she was sucking her thumb, I felt she was stressed out” I put my head down “she is connected to you, I get it. she’s going to make me grow up even more, I know it” looking up at Chris “she is going to make us both grow” we both not perfect.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chriannaff #chrianna ff #chrianna #chrianna fanfiction

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lipstickbisous · 4 years ago

Text

the rei brown series (1/3)

PICTURE FRAMES.

notes: yeah so i do write for (y/n) lol. just not for my oberyn series. this will have two parts but that’s it. this really has nothing to do with the plot of narcos, so sorry, but instead, we’re getting self-loathing javi. literally the only thing i’m good at is angst so...send that shit in. heaavvvvyyyy inspo from @gummiishark 😘

IT IS IMPORTANT THAT YOU LISTEN TO THE SONG.

the poem used is NOT MINE.

there is a part that might not add up with the whole 80′s setting, just ignore that pls.

pairing: javier peña x reader

summary: what happens when memories begin to resurface and javi can’t stop them?

warnings: A N G S T -- ANGST ANGST ANGST. there will be a part two but ANGST. an a john mulaney reference ;)

based off of picture frames by rei brown.

word count: 3.2k

it was dark. that was all javi knew in the moment because he didn’t feel like getting up to check the clock in his kitchen. it hung delicately on his wall, almost like how his heart was delicately and barely clinging onto life. something inside of him was hurting, and it hadn’t hurt in a long time. it was foreign, yet when javier first felt the pang, he was nostalgic.

nostalgic of you? most likely, but he hadn’t thought of you in the past twenty years. it’d been too long, and if he was being honest, he’d been too busy--so he assumed that you had been as well. that you were married off to a kind man, because that’s what you deserved, with several beautiful children, a dog, a big house with good money (because that’s what you deserved). he wasn’t sure if you had gotten that, but he hoped to god it’s what life was meant for you. he knew was his life meant now--cheap alcohol and cigerattes, expensive girls and informants, and a job that had him slumped on his couch, ignoring the spanish being spoken on his television.

he had wasted the past two decades with a career he thought was destined for him, but instead, he had made his living in murder. javi had spent countless nights with girls who were now unidentifiable. three nights ago, he had a pretty brunette in his bed, and once she left in the morning, he couldn’t even remember her name. martina? no, it started with an ‘f’, he was sure...

even though he had managed to convince himself over twenty years that he had completely rid himself of you for good, he could still remember your name. your teenage face smiling in the texas sunlight. sometimes, you would come over to the ranch and simply just sit with the horses. you’d stated that they had a certain essence to them that you enjoyed, but he knew that despite the girls in your grade teasing you about it, horses were your favorite animal. you had light laugh lines creasing from behind your nostrils to the corners of your mouth every time you laughed. javier could remember admiring them.

god, javier admired everything about you. even now, as his eyes were focused on the television but couldn’t think about a single thing it was showing him, he still admired the way you had laughed during summer hang-outs, or during the halls of high school when he tried to crack a joke. and they hadn’t even all that funny--but then again, you did have a big sense of humor and were easily amused.

he had polaroids of the two of you somewhere in his bedroom. he had made sure to pack them along with him on his way to colombia. he didn’t even want to think about the last time you two had spoke. it had been a neutral departing, and even if javi didn’t know it, you were both hiding things you had to say. he’d given it to you simply--a straightforward “i’m leaving texas”--and you were frozen.

you wanted to support him, of course you wanted to support him. you would be attending college as well, but you were staying in the state. your mother had been scared to death of you leaving texas for school, and as much as you hated it, you could never defy your mother. so, in that moment, you hadn’t moved for a good three minutes. it took a gentle hand on your shoulder to wake you.

“oh,” you whispered, but it was more of an incoherent noise. “that’s nice.” you’d said as well.

at first, you were angry that he could go back on a promise he made to you when you were both four years old--neither of you would ever leave the other. then, you were quick to realize that your frustration was nothing more than your fault. why would you back everything that was happening on a stupid promise you made when you were four years old?

he’d driven you home that night and you had murmured a quiet goodbye in the sticky summer air, but it had gotten caught on its way to javier’s ears. to him, you had left his truck without a word.

javier pushed that memory away. he dug a hole in his brain and buried the thought in its gravery, shoving the dirty onto its wooden box and taking a swig of whiskey. he stood from his couch and flipped the television off, watching as its screen remained with the green halo and the top was still hot. the streets outside of his apartment were always loud, but even now, whether it was a coincidence or not, only two or three cars were passing by quietly.

he let out a grumble and flipped off the light to his living room and kitchen, stumbling into his bedroom and collapsing on top of the bed. his sheets, a pristine pearl white, usually calmed him in the dead of night when he had a long day at work or maybe he had lost an officer. these sheets, the ones that held so many girls but never you, now did nothing for him. even the smell seemed bland, they weren’t the normal fresh detergent smell. he pressed his cheek flat against the mattress and pulled a pillow over his head, trying to muffle out any small noise or sight that could bother him in the morning. when stuck between his bed and pillow, he exhaled and immediately cringed. his breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes and whatever spicy food he’d eaten that night--he couldn’t even remember.

then, an idea sparked. it hadn’t been sinful or devilish but his eyes shot open and he threw the pillow to the floor. a car drove past his window, the lights moving through his room. javier propelled himself from his bed and swung his hand over the floor lamp in next to his desk. the room was illuminated and he could only imagine how insane he looked; his hair tousled in different directions, his eyes puffy from absentmindedly crying, his hands frantically running themselves over every piece of furniture in his room. he flipped the covers from his bed and looked underneath but found no monsters or anything. he pulled out drawers from his desk and emptied their contents onto the floor, but only found highlighters, papers, pens, and work-related material (that, if javier was being honest, should not have been in his home). he left the empty drawers on the floor and turned to the bookshelf, pulling every book off of its surface until the shelves were bare.

a hand rubbed over his mouth as he felt tears threatening him again. he could not cry--he wouldn’t. it was then that javi realized the mess he had made and his anxiety completely tipped him off of the cliff edge. he began to lose his composure, breaking down in a way that he was sure made him look ugly. he fell to his knees and leaned against the end of his bed, bringing his knees to his chest. he wore only a t-shirt and boxers, but even in the colombian heat, he felt cold.

he couldn’t bring himself to say your name. javier felt that just the small noise of his own voice would scare him, but he had always thought your name was the prettiest.

(y/n). he thought in his head, that mental voice almost screaming at him. just fucking say it.

javier stuttered, choking on his own words, and he never stuttered. he always knew exactly what he wanted, and in this moment, he only wanted you. but you were over a thousand miles away and he had no idea if you even still thought about him. he hoped so, but he wouldn’t blame you if the name “javier peña” hadn’t been used by your lips in a long time.

back in texas all that time ago, he had left the next day. you called his father back at the ranch to try and make some sort of contact but the news had been announced that javier peña was no longer in texas and was on his way to a new school to meet new people and--this hurt you the worst--new girls.

you had never been one for jealousy. it was a vile monster that you just morally could not let take control over you, but for the second and that second only, it was all you felt. you loved javier and he just left? he left you at home while he traveled over the country.

javier didn’t dare to think about it. as he continued to stutter, he let out the smallest of whimpers with the syllables of your name. “(y/n),” he cried to himself and squeezed his eyes shut. hot tears stained his cheeks as they continued to flow in a way that seemed endless. the feeling of his lips pronouncing your name sent chills down his spine as he said it again, “(y/n).”

there were now small splotches on his shirt where his tears had left his face and dripped onto the fabric, and when pressed flush against his skin as he stood, it felt icy. he didn’t feel like doing much, and maybe that was because in his eyes, he had wasted almost his entire life so far on a fucking job. he was practically praying that you had found something good to do--even maybe hoping that you would still visit the ranch sometimes to sit with the horses, but that seemed like a stretch considering your last encounter.

finally, javi looked to his small closet that held nothing more than button-up shirts, tan-colored suits, and stacks of blue jeans. he chewed on his bottom lip and furrowed a brow. he couldn’t have possibly been that simple as to put something he held so close to his heart in his...closet? his feet carried him to the closet doors before he ripped them open and began throwing out hangers of clothes onto his bed. really, he didn’t care if it was a mess now--he’d clean it up later because in this moment, what he was searching for was all that mattered.

there was a shelf above the bar of his closet that held all of his hangers, but even though javier was considerably tall, he couldn’t reach it. with a harsh sigh, he kicked all of the clothes surrounding him on the floor away and grabbed the chair from his desk. he cringed as the sound of the wooden pegs meeting the wooden floor was insanely loud in the quiet moment before standing on the chair. he could just barely see over the shelf, but he didn’t need to see anymore. a large cardboard box that had been collecting dust and sitting in bored in closet for years seemed to shine in a halo of angelic light. his gaze softened once his hand reached the back and he pulled the box down to him.

the creases of the cardboard had aged over time and the edges were slightly ripped, but overall, it had been kept in good shape--even when considering that javi hadn’t even looked at it for a long time, let alone hold it in his arms.

it felt like it was almost an historic artifact, that if javier applied just a bit too much pressure, it would turn to dust in his hold. he breathed carefully before gently setting it down on his bed, throwing the hangers of clothes onto the floor. currently, not a square inch of wooden flooring could be seen in his room. his eyes were wide as he traced his fingers over the box, recognizing the faded logo of the brand of boots you wore in highschool. he’d asked for your shoe box, you had no idea why, but now here javier sat with it in front of him all these years later.

his fingers just barely grazed over the edge of the lid before lifting it from the rest of the box, the dust gently blowing the air and small puffs of his breath. the first thing he noticed was the photo of you he held dearest.

it had been winter in texas and you were both sixteen. usually, during the cold season, because your hometown was so close to the border, the most winter-ish reaction you could get from texas was ice, but this year had been special because it had snowed. little snowflakes fell so delicately and collected on the ground until it grew to be at least several inches high. the roads were completely ice so your school had been cancelled on that thursday. it had been, personally, you and javi’s first taste of snow. and you both had spent ten minutes outside, bundled up in snow gear you never had to use before until you both decided that the snow was not for you and you retreated inside. his father had even gone as far to make hot cocoa and sandwiches for you two. javi had taken the photo with his father’s camera, one that he normally wasn’t allowed to use, when he had captured the perfect moment of you caught up in your laughter.

he pulled out various other photos from that day and others out of the box and reached a series of polaroids, and this time, it had been from summer. you had daisies in your hair because javier had taken the time to weave them through they strands so they stayed in place. he remembered how you had poked fun at him because while the gesture was so effortless, he stuck his tongue out like he was intently working. in the picture you sat in the fields while the horses were home in their stables, but a small foal had managed to escape. it’s wobbly knees kept it struggling to stand. the next photo was you noticing the creature almost falling over behind you. the third was you laughing and holding it up with your hands on both sides of its stomach.

you had never faked a smile. javier knew so because the one time you had tried, it had gone horribly wrong and he saw right through it. you immediately spilled everything that had been bothering you and he took you out for dinner the diner.

he continued to shuffle through the polaroids, carefully examining each one that showed your genuine excitement and happiness of life. his fingers would trace around the rim before he sensitively placed them in one large pile. he grew closer to the bottom of the box, and as he began to see its cardboard base and that boot logo again, his art ached. back in texas, he had so many more photos of you and he absolutely loathed his younger self for not packing them.

there was more in the box than just photos. he had also managed to pack one of your hoodies because you had left it at his house and never bothered to retrieve it. javier wasn’t sure if the act was creepy in a way, but the fabric had been so soft that whenever he held it, he thought of you. of course, during the past years, the smell of your perfume had completely faded and the sweatshirt smelled like any other old hoodie.

beneath the hoodie was a numerous amount of papers you had written and hidden in your room, but you had never been one for secrets. a day together over the summer and javi found them sticking out of your dresser drawer. he wasn’t sure if even to this day you knew he had them. on the paper, which had turned yellow due to age, you had written small poems. some had been about love, others about friends, and a few about summer and winter. (javi liked to believe that when you were writing about the winter ones, you were thinking of your time in the snow with him)

then, there were the poems he had written. he had never let you see any of them or even know about them. he had written them in a journal he kept at his desk, and whenever you asked about it, he would dismiss you and say it was ‘an old school journal he kept for notes’, but when javier was packing, he ripped each page out and clipped them together and put them in the box. tears clouded his vision as he reread his poems.

a sunflower soul, with rock and roll eyes. curious thoughts, and a heart of surprise.

he had written about you.

finally, javier stared down at an empty box, apart from the single card that remained at the bottom. it been hidden underneath every memory he had of you, and when his fingers unfolded the paper, he let out a choked sob when he recognized the numbers.

never in his life had javier felt such nausea. was the number even yours? were you even in texas anymore? you could’ve moved to fucking new york and completely altered your life. but...it wouldn’t hurt to try...right? he stood from his knees, instantly feeling the imprinted lines from the wooden flooring in his skin, and he only hesitated no more than two seconds before sprinting to his dining room, almost running straight past the phone.

with the paper in between his fingers and his hand violently shaking, his tears falling and his throat constricting to keep in a sob, he dialed the number and hopefully waited for a voice--any voice, even if it wasn’t yours, although if it did belong to himself, he didn’t know what he would do.

three dial tones later and no one had picked up. his eyes became lost in the darkness of his dining room before the line went blank. “no,” he whispered. “no, no, no, no.” so foolish of him to think that there could possibly be hope. javier dialed the numbers again and waited several seconds before a groggy voice answered. he realized just how late (or early) it had been and that whoever answered would be woken up by this phone call at two-thirty in the morning.

“hello?” the voice was unrecognizable yet familiar. javi was quiet, his breath even inaudible as he contemplated how to reply. “hello?”

he chewed his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut, releasing any other tears that were preparing themselves to fall . “(y/n)?” he spoke your name again and god did it feel good to say the one word that gave him solace.

it was silent. unbearably, cruelly, life-threateningly silent. his breathing began to quick as he felt his heart stop. his brows furrowed in some sort of shock but he was defeated. he clenched the paper in his palm so that it crumpled with a gentle sound, the only thing that really broke that painful silence. until the voice spoke again.

“javi?” you whispered, sitting up in your bed. your eyes were now fully open, your drowsiness had completely left your body. your gaze into the darkness of your room softened as you began to happily cry. “javier?”

on the other side of the line, javi only smiled.

tags: literally no one lmao @gummiishark @cyarikaaa @honeyedspace @talesfromtheguild @absurdthirst @pascalisthepunkest @wakalas @zeldasayer @blushingwueen @forever-rogue @otherthingsinhead @pedropascalito @thewaythisis @javierpenaspinkshirt

#THERE WILL BE A SECOND PART #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x oc #narcos #javier pena fic #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #steve murphy fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

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george-mackay-macfine · 5 years ago

Text

Dear Diary,

A/N - This has taken me a hot minute to get this done. Also hasn’t been proof read.

Request

Word Count: 4,289

Synopsis: George cheers Y/N up after she’s cheated on.

July 26th 2011,

Dear Diary,

That’s how these things work right? I start each entry by saying ‘Dear Diary’ and then verbally purging my innermost thoughts onto these painfully white pages in hopes of a self soothe type therapy? I guess it’s something I’ll have to try to work out any sort of lifetime trauma I’ve undoubtedly built up over the years, and there is the saying don’t knock it till you try it? Well, here we go.

I’m sure no one is curious as to why I’d be starting a diary at seventeen, nearly eighteen years into my life and that's because Y/N no one but you should be reading this diary, but on the off chance someone is, It’s probably definitely because I can’t afford therapy, and for as long as I’ve known Bridget Jones always found it helpful in her later years to write down the events of her life in her diary. Heck, they even helped her lose some weight, Christ knows I could probably use that, Of course, her life was undoubtedly a lot more interesting than mine will ever be, but either way she found sense in writing her memories down, So why would she lead me astray.

If anyone ever asks I’ll say I’m doing it so when I’m old and grey I can look back on all the memories and think about my life, how I spent it, how far I’ve come.

But if they dug a little deeper, not even that much deeper, like an inch tops, you’d see it’s because I don’t ever want to forget a detail about him, Georgeander Richards, the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen.

Meeting him happened at Ben Daniels’ end of year party, but since I’ve only decided to start a diary today. I guess we’ll need to take a jump back in time. Ben always throws the first party at the end of the year, and now as graduates, everyone had more reason to party. His parties were renowned for being the place to be if you wanted to;

Lose your virginity.

Take someone's virginity

Get over a horrendous break up by getting absolutely shit faced

Forget about how badly you did in your tests.

Mourn the loss of your formative years and in turn your youth.

Or you’d attend to witness the utter demise of your faith in humanity.

I was here for the third reason.

July 16th 2011, Ben Daniel’s Start of Summer Party.

Smoke filled the air, thick and hazy. I couldn’t be sure if it was coming from the smoke machine Ben had hired to add to the ‘atmosphere’, or if it was coming from the cigarettes that everyone seemed to be chain-smoking, It could also be coming from the bong that Freddie Ashby was using.

Either way, the source of the smoke was unclear.

“Have you seen Sarah?” I asked Freddie as I asked him. He looked up from his bong, eyes wide and filled with humour. He nodded his head a stupid bloody smile on his face. God Freddie, you were literally the stereotypical stoner that was in EVERY bloody American High School movie. “Well, where is she?” I asked the irritation that clipped my tone was lost on Freddie.

“Oh, she’s in the lounge room.” He extended the bong out to me. “Take a hit, for old times?” I pushed it back against his chest gently. Freddie was always nice I guess but right now I was on a mission.

“Maybe later Fred, I just need to find Sarah first.” Freddie nodded his head, Lips wrapping around the mouthpiece, black lighter lit in his hands going to the bowl. I didn’t stay to watch Freddie light up. Instead, I pushed through the solid crowd into the living room. Hannah Jamieson saw me first. She tapped her boyfriend Connor Hughes on the shoulder, One by one people turned. I smiled at the all, confused as I made my way around the living room. It wasn’t until I was in front of Ben’s mum's floral settee did I stop.

My heart dropped through my ass, out of my chest cavity and right through. Hitting the floor before being tramped on my a storm of hippos. That’s how it felt at least, and no amount of smoke was thick enough to hide the act of deceit happening on Ben’s mum's floral settee.

Julian McDonald, my boyfriend of six months and my best friend of eleven fucking years Sarah Olsen, making out in front of everyone. Julian was shoving his tongue down Sarah’s throat while Sarah copped a feel of what Julian had to offer the world through his signature black skinny jeans. I was sure if she kept rubbing she’d wear a hole in the worn denim.

“Isn’t that…” Morgan Franks, the other oblivious stoner of our school pointed to the two, as if everyones attention wasn’t already on them.

“Yeah.” I breathed out looking as Julian’s hand snaked up to cop a feel of Sarah’s boob, much to the entertainment of everyone in the room who whooped and hollered in approval suddenly forgetting that I was there and that was my boyfriend and best friend making out. “Sure is.” I turned on my heel, my old ratty converses squeaking as I turned, walking back the way I’d came. Nobody bothered watching me this time. Things had heated up between Julian and Sarah enough to keep their attention.

“Watch where you’re going.” Someone yelled as I pushed through the growing crowd of horny seventeen and eighteen-year-olds who were desperate for a sneak peek at the live porn show currently unfolding on Ben’s mum's bloody floral settee.

I want to burn the fucking thing.

I’d decided there was only one place I could be right now, and that was the patio on the roof. Snagging an unopened bottle of vodka as I went I rushed up the three flights of stairs. Anyone who’d ever been to one of Ben’s parties in the past knew about the rules of the roof. It was the only place in the whole house where you could sit and have a quiet conversation without anyone disturbing you, bumping into you, or in some cases groping you. It was party law that if you were on the roof you were quiet, and that is why the roof was always relatively empty. Maybe a random couple hooking up in the corner, or the emo-loner kid who wanted to be included without actually being included sat up here.

Now I joined them. The brokenhearted girl who was now planning on getting completely shit faced on a full bottle of Vodka.

“Ah fuck.” The ground was uneven at the top of the stairs where the door jamb and the concrete didn’t quite level out together, the bottle of vodka I’d grabbed nearly hit the ground had I not been able to grab onto the neck of the bottle seconds before it smashed into the concrete.

“Rough night?” I jumped, heart racing out of my chest, shock coursing through my veins. I looked up, across the roof near the ledge stood a boy, casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a cigarette hanging from his left hand. He was the only one up here, no random couple, no emo-loner kid, Just the boy with the cigarette. He turned more towards me, bringing the cigarette to his lips. “Or do you always nearly drop a full bottle of vodka the minute you walk into a room.”

“This isn’t a room,” I called cockily, as I stood up, balance restored. The stranger looked around, a tooth filled smile creeping up onto his face. “It’s a roof.”

“Touche.” He extends his hand towards the space next to him, an unspoken invitation for me to join him. Slowly, cautiously I walk towards the stranger. We were the only two on the roof, he maintains his eye contact with me until I’m standing beside him. I take a good look at him. His jaw was square and sharp. His cheeks lightly tanned and covered in a days worth of stubble. His eyes were big, round… Childlike and welcoming. In the dark light I could barley see the beautiful blue of his eyes as I stood by him. “So, has it been a rough night.” I chuckled in self pity before plonking down by his feet. Vodka bottle in front of me.

“My boyfriend is cheating on me.” I twisted the lid of the bottle. “With my best-friend… Right now.” I moved the bottle towards my lips. “Actually if you’re interested they’re giving everyone the opportunity to catch a free, live porn show… Just go down and ask Ben where his mums bloody floral settee is.” I chugged down some of the clear liquid as the boy sat beside me. Coughing as it burned its way down my throat. “Other than that, it’s a pretty stock standard Ben Daniel’s party. Music is too loud, too shitty and everyone’s packed in like sardines.” I held the bottle out to him. In return he offered his cigarette.

“I’ll admit, Ben does always over extend the invite.” He looked around us. “This is the only place you can really move.” I extended the bottle to him. He took it, exchanging it for his cigarette. “But I did hear yelling’s of the porn show from down below.” He tipped his head back, swallowing some of the liquid as I took a drag of his cigarette. I was never one to smoke, apart from social situations, and this I suppose one would consider to be a social situation. “Sounds like a shitty best-friend and a really fucking shit boyfriend…”

“Ex-best-friend, and I guess ex-boyfriend.” I exhaled the smoke. The burning filled my lungs. I coughed a little at the very end, lungs burning.

“Sorry, Ex-best-friend.” He took another swig of the vodka. “I’m George.”

“Y/N.” We swapped items again. “You don’t go to our school do you? I mean with Ben…” George shook his head.

“Nah, I go to the private school.” Holy shit, this was George MacKay, the same George MacKay that Sarah was in obsessed with.

“Christ on a bike, You’re that George.” He turned to me.

“That George? I didn’t know I was deserving of a that before my name.” He chuckled.

“Of course, you need context, sorry…” I cleared my throat. “Sarah, the ex-best-friend, the one making out with the ex-boyfriend, she has the BIGGEST crush on you… She’d always go to any of the parties in town in hopes of seeing you there… If only she were here now.” I shook my head, karma sometimes was a bitch.

“Your best-friend —.”

“Ex,” I mumbled as I tipped the bottle up to my lips.

“Sorry, your ex-best-friend is Sarah Olsen… Stalker Sarah…” Vodka flew out of my mouth, not exactly the most lady-like of things when you’re sitting with one of the hottest boys in your town, alone on a roof… Great job Y/N.

“I’m sorry, but what did you just call her.” I spun on my legs a little, my body facing his. He mirrored my actions. I wiped the vodka from my face, ladylike.

“Stalker Sarah, it’s the name my mates came up with for her… I had no part in it.” He held his hands up in defence.

“Jesus, why’d you call her that?”

“Well, like you said she’d come to all the parties in town. When she was there she wouldn’t dance, she wouldn’t drink… She’d just stand there and stare at me. She didn’t blink for five minutes once… It was like she was waiting for me to talk to her.” He shook of the memories. “God, it was so uncomfortable.”

“My god, seriously.” George nodded his head feverishly. He grabbed the vodka from between us, bringing it to his lips.

“You know I never thought it’d be sat here at one of Ben Daniel’s parties with Stalker Sarah’s ex-best-friend.” There was a moment of silence between us. I guess we were both wrapped up in the revelations.

“You look different to how she described you.” George shook his head.

“She described what I looked like to you?” I nodded my head. “Why?”

“Case I ever saw you at a party, I was to tell her immediately.”

“Did you?” I shook my head no. “She’s insane you know. One time she told a girl I was seeing that she was pregnant with my kid, and the girl was stopping us being together.”

“Are you fucking serious.” George nodded his head. “I’m sorry she did that to you.”

“Not your fault, you don’t control her…” He stamped out his cigarette as he passed the bottle back. “You think you’ll ever forgive them?”

“To quote Hamlet, Act three, Scene three, Line 87… No.” Another smile broke across his face, this one bigger than the first.

“You can really quote Hamlet down to the line numbers?” I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s true what they say about you Y/N Y/L/N, you are one of a kind.”

“How do you know my last name?”

“I knew who you were the second you step out onto this roof.” He motioned for me to lean in closer to him as if he were about to tell me a national secret. “I familiarised myself with all of Stalker Sarah’s friends, incase any of them ever came up to me at a party and tried to tell me ALL about their great friend, and how wonderful we’d be together. I didn’t realise you were the ‘best’ friend’ though.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Not anymore… But she did try to get me to do that once ya know…” I lent in closer to him, ready to unload my own confession. “But I told her I was going to be sick and got out of there before you even showed up.”

“Smart girl.”

“So my grades say.”

“So I’ve heard.” My eyebrow raised. “I’ve heard a few things about you actually…”

“You have?” He nodded his head, a sinful smirk covering on his lips.

“Best-friends with stalker Sarah, now ex.” He corrected himself when my mouth opened to correct him. “Smart as all hell, probably going to be doctor or a lawyer, and you were dating THE biggest jackass in your school.” Part of me couldn’t believe that George MacKay, the boy Sarah had always gone on and on about knew so many things about me. I know their not major things, but its still something.

“That’s a lot of things,” He chuckled, laying back on the floor of the roof eyes cast upwards towards the star filled sky. “Not nearly as many things as I’ve heard about you, but still a lot.”

“What have you heard about me then?”

“George MacKay, you’re the ‘it’ boy of your school.” He scoffed at the title. “Every girl from my school, your school the school in the next town over wants to date you.” I laid down beside him. “You’re also rather smart… You get good grades, play football. Everyone thinks you’re going to be a model right out of school.”

“Basic things then.”

“You’re the not so bad, ‘bad boy’ that all the girls want to be good for them.” I rolled my eyes in disgust over the strong of words I’d heard come out of Sarah’s mouth one too many times. “It’s a rather romantic notion really, if you’re fourteen.”

“You know what they say about bad boys.” George whispered I felt his breath against my cheek. “Bad boys do it better.”

“Oh my god.” I chuckled. “You say stuff like that to girls? Does that work for you?” I turned to look at him, our noses now touching.

“You tell me.” He smiled again, my breathing hitched slightly. I looked at him again, this was George MacKay, the boy that Sarah told me I would never have a chance with, no matter how much makeup I wore, how much weight I lost, how much I pushed my tits up. He would only ever be interested in a girl like her, not me. Yet, here he was.

“Try another one.” My voice came out barley above a whisper, my bottom lip slipping between my teeth. George grabbed my hand, pulling it onto his chest, he started to lead it downwards. He didn’t break eye contact with me, and that only made the whole situation one hundred times more intense. Julian had never done this before, He’d never be able to have this effect on me.

“Do you want to see what you do to me.” He whispered, stopping right at his belt buckle. He smiled, head inching forward a little more. “How was that?” The look on his face told me he knew what he was doing to me, how his was making my heart skip every second beat.

“I can see why you got your reputation.” He moved his head closer to mine, just by a milli-meter, if either of us moved our lips would touch. His hand still held onto mine resting on his belt buckle. He didn’t make a move to move them, and if I was honest with myself. I didn't want too. The logical part of my brain told me I was doing this as payback for Sarah hooking up with Julian, the vodka filled side of me did it because I wanted to see where this could go.

“Y/N.” My fingertips unconsciously gripped onto his belt. His eyes dropped to my lips, only for a second. If I’d been blinking I’d have surly missed it. “You’re cute when you’re flirting.”

“I wasn’t flirting.” I pulled my hand away from his belt. The warmth of his body leaving my forearm. I wrapped it under myself. Watching him as he turned away and looked up at the sky once more.

“I wish you had been.” God, if I were a petty bitch I would run down those stairs and yell this story in Sarah’s face, while Julian watches on with that stupid look of his. “Why in the world did Julian McDonald break up with you? Apart from being one of the biggest idiots in town,”

“I didn’t want to sleep with him.” I whispered, rolling back so I was also watching the stars. “He got mad that we’d been dating for six months, and I don’t think I’m ready to lose my virginity.”

“You mean you’ve never had sex?”

“I do believe that is the common definition of the word.” I laughed. “But I know, how lame am I. I’m seventeen and I’ve never slept with anyone.”

“I don’t think it’s lame.”

“Yeah right. I’ve heard the stories about you, and your assembly of women.”

“Firstly it’s more of a line… not an assembly. Secondly, I’m serious. You wouldn’t want to lose your virginity to that arsehole anyway.” He cocked a smile. “Probably wouldn’t even had a dick big enough to feel it.” He snorted out a laugh, trying to hold it in. “I’ve heard some pretty serious allegations over the size of that guys dick.”

“George.” I turned to look at him, unable to stop myself from staring for a moment. “Thanks for making me feel less shit about my life.” He turned to face me now. “I’m sorry I’m such a drunken mess.” I picked up the bottle of vodka, it was two-thirds empty.

“Well that was going to be my next question. Are you always like this or is it just the vodka?”

“It’s definitely the vodka.” I sat up, trying to hide the blush that was flooding my cheeks. “Normally, if my boyfriend…”

“Ex,”

“Thank-you, Ex-boyfriend hadn’t been making out with my best-friend”

“Ex,”

“Ex-best-friend on that bloody floral settee feeling up each others…” I waved my hands in front of my boobs, the frustration overtaking me. “Bits… I wouldn’t be up here, wasted on half a bottle of vodka.” From down the stairs there was a loud eruption of voices. The music swelled drowning out any chance I had on making out what the voices were saying.

“But then if they weren’t down stairs making fools of themselves you wouldn’t be up here.” George voiced as he sat up. Arm brushing mine.

“That’s true.” I turned to face him. Chin resting on my arm. “And wouldn’t that be a shame.” George smiled and lent down a little. Eyes levelling out with mine, he ducked in a little closer, once again we were nearly lips to lips. “Why are you up here George?” He smiled, his lips brushed mine ever so softly. I almost thought it didn’t happen.

“I’m hiding from Stalker Sarah.” He whispered, breath fanning over my lips.

“MacKay where are you.” I pulled away, turning towards the door to the roof. “MacKay”

“I think someone wants you.” I turned back to George who was looking at the door.

“I think you’re right.” He stood up and extended his hand down to me. “Do you need a ride home?” I’d come with Sarah… There was no way I was leaving with her.

“I can walk.” I smiled standing.

“MACKAY.” The voice hollered again. If Sarah didn’t know George was here tonight, she sure would now.

“You’re not walking, we can take you.”

“George, it’s fine.”

“Y/N, We’re driving you.” He smiled grabbing onto my hand, Holding it tightly in his. “Now, the important part of this mission,” He started as he pulled us towards the door back into the house. "Is making sure neither of your ex’s see us.”

“You make me sound like I’m a floozy with multiple ex’s. Besides, they’re probably still busy on the floral settee,” George threw his head back and let out a deep chuckle as he opened the door and holding it with his left hand. His right still firmly gripping mine.

“Y/N.” We both pulled to a stop, Our laughter cutting off, Dying like my last hopes of being able to get out of this house without seeing either Sarah or Julian again. Sarah stepped forward smiling. She looked George up and down like he was a snack.

“We’ve been looking for you.” Julian smiled reaching out for my hand, trying to pull me away from George.

“Sarah,” I looked at my ex-best-friend whose eyes were downcast at mine and George’s interlaced hands. “Julian,” Julian’s eyes were on George, sizing him up.

“Y/N,” Sarah clenched out, eyes leaving mine and George’s hand. “Whose your friend?” She smiled sweetly. George wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest.

“No one, just the guy whose taking her home.” He looked down the stairs, my eyes followed his. At the bottom of the stair case stood two guys, they’re waving at George. He nods his head in acknowledgement at the two. “Come on,” George lead me through the pair, down one step, two, three.

“Y/N,” I stopped, George stopped on the step below me. I turned, looking back up at the girl who used to be my best-friend. “Are you really going to do this to me?” I let out a self pitying laugh.

“Honestly Sarah, compared to what you and Julian did together on the settee, George taking me home, is nothing.” They both looked down. “You should have charged for the show, you would have made a killing.” I went to turn again.

“You leave with him and you can kiss goodbye our friendship.”

“You kissed that good bye the minute you kissed my boyfriend.” I turned, this time not stopping when she called out again. “Let’s go.” I whispered in his ear, stepping down onto his step. When we got to his friends he smiled at them, not explain who I was. I guessed he was waiting till we were in the safety of the car George had arrived here in.

“You alright?” The taller of the pair asked. His eyes flicked over to me, before turning back to George as we made our way past him.

“Yeah, I’ll explain in the car.” He replied softly. None of us talked as we followed George out of the house, his hand still holding tightly onto mine. People parted as we walked through the crowd. I could see at least three different girls who’d joined Sarah in her talks about George giving me the up and down before they looked away, their eyes betraying them in the second they turned. They wished they were me, holding his hand….I understood why.

“I’m Mason.” The shorter one smiled as we neared the car. “Since this jackass won’t introduce us.” He extended his hand out to me. He seemed nice enough. “You are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” I smiled shaking his hand. “Ex-best-friend of Stalker Sarah, Ex-girlfriend of Julian McDonald.” Mason’s eyes widened he turned to George who was still next to me, hand still firmly grasping mine. “It’s okay, you don’t need to worry about me trying to convert George into hooking up with her.” I lent towards him. “And if you made up the nickname, you’re totally right.” I whispered a little.

“Speaking of McDonalds,” The taller of the two smiled. “How about we get some?” He held his hand out across the roof of the car. “I’m Taylor, designated driver of these two assholes tonight.” I reached across, shaking his hand. “Pleasure.” He hit the roof of the car. “McDonalds, let’s go.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dear Diary pt.2. - https://george-mackay-macfine.tumblr.com/post/612006567009714176/dear-diary

Dear Diary pt.3. - https://george-mackay-macfine.tumblr.com/post/612353107904593920/dear-diary-pt3

Dear Diary pt.4. - https://george-mackay-macfine.tumblr.com/post/612426076500656129/dear-diary-pt-4

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #GeorgeMackay #George MacKay fanfic #George MacKay Imagine

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sinnamonfox · 4 years ago

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~ Sean x Finn - A band AU~

There’s this somewhat lengthy AU I wrote in the beginning of May but wasn’t ready to post it. It’s more detailed NSFW than the rest of the snippets I’ve posted here and I guess I felt self-conscious about it, but.. it’s stupid? Soo fuck insecurities, here comes a dose of a smutty AU with the boys. Enjoy <3

NSFW warning: blowjob, riding & use of recreational drugs

The Humboldt Crew has become a relatively famous alternative band among teens in Seattle's area in the last 6 years. The members are all teenage runaways, highschool drop-outs who met and connected through their same goal in life; making music (and getting high also helped in bonding). They play punk music with a hint of some softer vibes here and there. Cassidy's the lead singer, with the occasional acoustic guitar, Hannah, the eldest of them's behind the drums. Penny plays the bass while Finn, the youngest, shreds the electric guitar.

Finn's 24, got his dreads in a ponytail with all sorts of beads in it, his left arm is covered in wristbands, has different kinds of metal rings, covering parts of his 'free piza' tattoo which isn't his only ink by any means. He's got the triangles, the vertical line on his chin, the few other lines and nonsense scattered all over his body which he got while being wasted or just because he could. He even has a full-sleeve on his left arm, it's a mix of 'cool, abstract shit' as he’d said it.

Finn's easy going, very sweet and chill with their fans, more often than not hooking up with some of them but he's got a steady fuck buddy thing going on with Hannah if neither of them get a date by the end of the night after a gig. Finn loves to fuck, just like his tattoo suggests, the post-concert adrenaline mixed with the marijuana making those strangers all the more appealing. Deep down he knows he’s missing something. The feel of belonging romantically to someone else and having a meaningful connection is something he wishes he had but doesn’t feel like he deserves it.

Sean's a band geek, currently a senior in college at the age of 22. He's studying art, already making money out of it due to his luck, talent and having a best friend who majors in marketing. Lyla manages the advertisement, finds clients for him and is basically doing everything important accounting work for her childhood best friend, so naturally they share the income. It's a working deal between the two, helped them find a small but nice little apartment. They get graphic design commissions from small and medium-sized businesses to have their logo made, the style of their website, menus for restaurants and so on.

Sean's love life is dull, to put it bluntly. They go to college parties with Lyla and different concerts in the city so he's sort of trying to have fun, meeting new people along the way. He's bisexual and not a virgin in any sense. Had three girlfriends in the past and a boyfriend but none of them ended too well. Sean feels like he didn't find common ground with any of them, not in a classical romantic sense and not between the sheets either so they weren't long-lasting relationships. Sean was longing to finally find someone like that so Lyla, the Love Witch was on the lookout for him, 'advertising' not only his art but her best friend too whenever she had the chance, even though Sean asked her not to, multiple times.

Sean knows The Humboldt Crew's music, been a fan with Lyla since around the beginning. They get a commission from them to make different designs for their merch and their third album cover. Needless to say, he's excited to be working on that and as a friendly gesture, they even receive V.I.P. tickets to one of their shows. They get to rock out in the front row, singing along to the lyrics they both know so well with a plastic cup of beer in their hands and whoa, that guitarist is kinda hot?

Finn's a star, but one of those who don't even realize how good they are. Finn goes with the flow, he's confident and isn't afraid to be himself on stage, he enjoys the music immensely and it's showing in his behavour. He's jumping around with Penny and Cassidy, sharing grins and joyful looks, even takes off his tank top halfway through the concert to the crowd's amazement. Lyla notices Sean's interest and tells him how she's heard that he was pansexual so he's got a chance but Sean brushes it off, not believing that for a second.

She drags him backstage after the concert to meet the band. They're just as chill as they seem from afar, a very interesting crew with different personalities that somehow still found a way to work together. Sean can tell they're like a family from how they act around each other. The second Finn lays eyes on Sean from across the room, he just knows he needs to get to him so he walks up and introduces himself charmingly, flirting from the get go which instantly has Sean's cheeks go red because holy shit, this guy.

Finn picks up on it, knows he's got a chance and makes it his mission to seduce Sean because he's fucking smitten with the shy artist. Sean stammers, feeling like and idiot, especially since Finn's still half-naked with his sexy tattoos out in the open and are those nipple piercings? Lyla sees Sean's face and doesn’t need more, she scores them an invite to the band's house, where the private afterparty is held.

Of course, they get high. Finn chose to sit next to Sean, pressed to his side and is doing everything to mercilessly tease the younger to the point where he has to excuse himself and go out for some fresh air. It's not even that he's nervous, the weed and buzz from the alcohol has him in a good mood but Finn gets him so ridiculously turned on, like never before and he doesn't know what to do with it. The nonchalant touches on his thigh, his hot breath on his ear telling him he wants to see his skillful artist hands in action sometime, those pet names that make him melt and want to climb in his lap right there. This isn't like him, not at all. Sean never had a one night stand before but he was actually considering it because the guitarist is downright irresistible.

He smokes a cigarette out there in the dimly lit backyard, alone with his thoughts, at least for a while. Finn gets worried, thinking he came on too strong or he misunderstood the signs. Sean's startled out of his train of thought when Finn joins him on the wooden bench outside. He goes to apologize when Sean frowns and stops him. "No, no! Shit dude- I'm totally into it, it's just.." He lets out a frustrated sound, the words not coming to him as he gestures helplessly with his hands as if that'd help his case. "Never done something like this, I just met you and you're hot as hell, feeling me up and- Fuck, maybe I'll just shut up." Finn's easy laughter makes him smile too because somehow, it doesnt feel like he's laughing at him.

"Damn sweetie, ever been told you're real cute when you get all blushy?" Finn teases which just makes it worse. Tells Sean he doesn't have to do anything he's not 100% sure about and he won't make him either. Finn’s starting to really like Sean. Interacting with him feels so real, no lies and pretending. The artist doesn’t treat him differently just because he’s semi-famous. Meanwhile, Sean's touched by his patience and thanks him for being so cool, also shuffles closer to the tattooed punk because he does want it, tells him so.

"Then what are you afraid of?" The question breezes out of Finn’s mouth, the corners quirking up from finding Sean adorable.

"Nothing." Sean whispers back before closing the distance between them and it's one of those legendary, movie-like kisses that neither of them had before, with fireworks going off in the background. One that shakes you to the core and leaves you trembling, sucks the breath right out of your lungs. Sparks fly and it turns extremely heated with Sean swinging his leg over Finn's lap, Finn's calloused guitarist fingers travel up his tshirt at the back and pull the artist closer in desperation. Finn’s tongue tests the waters, asking permission into Sean’s mouth and he gains it almost immediately. After a few minutes of making out, they're both so stupidly hard, grinding mindlessly against each other while exchanging the sloppy kisses that fill up the night air with wet smacking sounds and occasional moans from the both of them. Finn's the one to initiate continuing it in his room, ready to back out if needed but as Sean's lustfilled eyes find his, telling him to lead the way, he’s sure about what comes next.

They sneak by the others and up the stairs but they're not even fully on the second level before Finn presses Sean against the wall and their lips collide in burning passion. Sean's making needy sounds and Finn's so drunk on it, pining his wrists to the wall and massaging their tongue’s together, taking charge of the situation. Sean absolutely loves it.

Somehow, the two men find themselves in the messy room with Sean on his back on a beat-up mattress. It's a miracle they managed to get that far. Not even five minutes later they're both fully naked and Finn's sucking off the younger eagerly, his mouth proving to be just as skillful working on his cock as it was spewing out filth, his fingers are opening up the tan male thoroughly. When Sean can't take it any longer, he pulls him up by his dreads and flips them over to Finn's surprise.

After taking care of protection and applying lube, Sean sinks down on Finn's impressive length with a long, drawn-out moan that's rivaled by Finn's sounds of pleasure and his praises. His strong thighs flex as he begins bouncing. He’s clawing at the flat, pale stomach in ecstasy because this is perfect, Finn’s length is just perfect, hitting his sweet spots without needing to be guided. Sean wants to keep it down but when Finn starts fucking up right into his prostate, he loses all sense of control and let's go of his high-pitched moans. Finn takes the opportunity to take over again and pushes Sean on his back to pummel into him wildly, his dreads bouncing with his movements, both of them sweating. Sean can't think of anything else, he only feels the way Finn's sliding in and out of him, angling his hips with such expertise, it drives him crazy.

When Sean comes, it's with a scream of Finn's name that he paints his stomach, one hand jacking himself off, the fingers on the other digging into Finn's back, holding on for dear life. He clenches around Finn's dick which sends the other over the edge as well, spilling in the condom with a loud grunt and chanting of his partner's name. Sean's heart is thumping in his ears as he feels Finn breathe raggedly into his neck in the aftermath. He also has a lazy smile on his face when the older kisses him again. They're both sort of surprised at what just happened so no wonder they're grinning like idiots. Finn chuckles into the brief, sensual kiss before gently pulling out and taking care of the mess they've made with the help of Sean.

They're exhausted, it was a long night. Finn tells Sean he should stay if he wanted to, the arm he throws over Sean's sweaty torso is nice and despite their messiness, the artist burrows closer, welcoming the hug and agreeing to the plan. They fall asleep that way, wrapped up in each other, strangers who just met a few hours ago yet it’s already had such a huge impact on both of them. The next morning, Sean wakes up earlier and yesterday’s events come back to him, making him blush. He's hugging the musician's naked body from the back which just feels so natural, as if it wasn't the first time it happened and he's known him for longer than just one night. As Sean begins overthinking, it hits him; was this really a casual hook up? Are all of them so damn hard to walk away from? He feels somewhat stupid for having those feelings but.. this man beside him seems so full of love. The way he treated his crew, how he made sure Sean was feeling comfortable with the situation, his eyes going soft whenever Sean stuttered in embarrassment of right when he released.

When those piercing blue eyes take him in after waking up, Finn starts the morning with a groggy, „Good mornin’, beautiful.” Sean’s heart skips a beat and in the next second soft lips are on his again, movements so different to the night prior. More languid and sweet, as if Finn was bittersweetly memorizing the curve of Sean’s lips before he disappears, like he’s just used to people leaving him after they get what they want. Sean kisses back with the same intensity, no rushing in the slightest. They share a lazy smile, Sean’s face is flushed and connects their lips once again, letting Finn know he has no intentions leaving just yet.

He’ll have time to thank Lyla later.

#Eilla's imagines #sean x finn #lis2 #sean diaz #finn mcnamara #sinn #fean #mcdiaz #band au #alternative universe #guitarist finn #artist sean #lyla park #smut #sinnamonfox

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plaidbooks · 4 years ago

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Everyone Deserves Love chapter 8

A/N: This starts with a little bit of fluffy cuteness, but don’t let that fool you! Jenkins coming in hot, and then it switches to angst. And it stays angst. So heads up, it’s gonna be angst for a bit haha.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: none, outside of feelings, oh, I guess minor character death that was mentioned in one line

Words: 6k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba (lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Saturday, May 2nd. 5:00am

Devon woke up at 5am sharp, as usual, even after being up over 24 hours the day before. She uncurled on the couch, stretching while standing, then went through her morning routine: exercise, shower, dress. She tried to be as quiet as possible, since Barba was still asleep, and she planned to let him sleep in a little, their deal from the previous night. Normally on weekends, he would stumble out of his room around 8am. Glancing at the clock, it was still early; only 6:30. Devon planned on making coffee to go with the breakfast, so she decided that 8am would be the safest time to start it. Until then, though, she’d work on the abandoned report from last night, while trying to ignore the thoughts that had stopped that report. Having those types of thoughts helped no one and was wildly unprofessional. So, she shoved her feelings away, focusing on the events from the past two days instead.

Time flew by and 8am came faster than she thought it would, with no signs of life from Barba’s room. She still got up from the couch, report done, and started the French press. While waiting for the water to heat up, she went to the FBI database, trying to check on the last 12 Aces in the city. She looked up from her laptop when she heard Barba’s door open; she didn’t even hear him shower, yet his hair was still damp from the spray. He was in nice slacks and a plain polo shirt; his “casual” attire, unlike his “weekend” suits. It was always a little treat seeing someone who was normally in expensive suits dressing in something…not as expensive. Casual. He still looked damn good, though.

“Good morning,” Devon chirped, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Coffee?”

“Please,” he grumbled. Even when he slept in, Rafael Barba was not a morning person. Devon grinned, pouring him a cup, and adding the appropriate amount of sugar that she knew he liked. She noticed, somewhere deep down, that she liked their almost…domestic tendencies. It made sense, with how much time they spent together, but it was still nice to have these little shared things. It was like his home was hers’, too. Which was comforting. And absolutely terrifying.

“Here you go,” she said, passing him the hot liquid. He gratefully took a deep pull, letting the caffeine waken him. He went to the fridge, pulling out an assortment of vegetables and a carton of eggs. He set about making breakfast, an omelet with sautéed vegies; Devon hovered in the kitchen, but her attention was on her laptop, still researching.

“So, what time were you up today?” Barba asked casually.

“Uh, 5am?” Devon replied.

Barba shot her a look. “I thought we agreed to sleep in today. Why were you up so early?”

“I—I’m always up at 5. I have an internal clock, wakes me up,” she explained.

“Everyday?”

“Correction, almost always. Sometimes I’m up at 4.”

Barba looked shocked first, then concerned. “We go to bed so late; why the hell do you wake up so early? And how the hell are you so perky in the morning?”

Devon thought about it. “I’ve been waking up before the sun for a while, now, couple years, actually. Guess it’s just habit.” She gave him a playful smile. “The perkiness is all me, baby.”

Barba ignored the joke, all serious. “Years? That cannot be healthy. Have you talked to anyone about this?”

Devon took a sip of coffee, swirled it in her mouth before swallowing. “After doing a UC, it’s mandatory to talk to a therapist. So yes, I did ‘talk to someone’ about it…. Especially because it seemed to start a week into that assignment.” Barba flipped the omelet he was making. It looked like he was going to question further, so Devon cut him off. “Yes, both my therapist and I believe that it’s from stress. I—I think I’m just…” she took a deep breath; saying it out loud was acknowledging it. But it was also good to get it out of her mind. “I’m just afraid; my brain needs to be on alert at all times. I know it sounds silly, but people like you—victims--deserve to have 24/7 protection, but I can only give you 20 at most. I’m a light sleeper; anyone breaking in and I’ll hear it. But I don’t think that’s really good enough; it leaves at least 4 hours where you’re open, exposed, especially with the fire escape in your room.” Barba took the omelet out of the pan, placing it skillfully on a plate, and passing it to Devon. She took it gratefully, blowing on it before taking a bite. It was delicious. Is there anything he can’t do?

Barba sighed as he went back to the pan, starting on his own food. “Devon, I know that no one wants to hear it, but you are human. No one, including you, can stay awake and alert 24/7. Hell, even 20/7 is insane. I’m glad that this whole mess is almost over.” He flinched inwardly as soon as the words left his mouth. And the look on Devon’s face was a punch to the gut; it was only there for a split second before she went back to a neutral expression. But he felt it, too; as much as he would like life to go back to normal, he really didn’t want to lose her, lose this. Not yet.

“It will be nice to sleep in my own bed again,” Devon joked, though her voice fell a little flat. She knew that it was inevitable; she’d have to leave him eventually, go on with her work and life. But she really, really, didn’t want to think about that. She was disappointed that he was already there in his thoughts, that he was wishing for it.

Barba finished cooking his own food, standing at the counter next to Devon. They ate in relative silence, besides complimenting each other on the food and coffee, and idly talking about heading to the park afterwards.

“Oh shit, I need to call Liv,” Devon said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Olivia picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Dev, everything alright?” she asked.

Devon chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course. Just wanted to let you know that Barba and I were going to Central Park for a little. Get some fresh air after the mess from the past couple days.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? You don’t think that you’ll be sitting ducks?”

“There’s only 12 Aces left, and I think after what happened with Marco, we should be good.” Devon waited a moment before adding on, “I’ll be armed, we’ll be safe.”

Liv sighed. “For one thing, I forgot to text you last night; we caught 5 more Aces in a raid last night. So now the magic number is 7. And second, I’ll station some extra unis in the park, just to be sure. The remaining members may be getting desperate, since there’s not many left.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll let Barba know, and I’ll keep my eyes open,” Devon replied. She hung up, then, and relayed the information to Barba.

“Hm, SVU must be busy; Liv doesn’t normally forget to inform us like that,” he said.

Devon agreed. “We can always stop by later today, see what’s up.” Barba nodded.

They finished their food quickly, suddenly eager to get out into fresh air. Barba’s loft was only two blocks from Central Park, so it was a short walk there, but before they even hit the park, they were already more relaxed, basking in the warm, sunny day. There’s something about getting out of the house, even for a simple walk, that was refreshing. It seemed like the tension, the heaviness, from the last two days lifted, and they joked and laughed, conversation flowing easily. They made it to a trail that went by the water, and just enjoyed each other’s presence. They talked about nothing, really, just idle small talk. Devon did surreptitiously watch every person within eyesight; she saw at least 6 cops the first ten minutes there, two on bikes and the rest on foot. But no one looked suspicious, only suburban moms with their strollers, joggers, couples walking through the park. They wandered the trail for about an hour, slowly getting closer together, though neither of them noticed. It wasn’t until Devon’s hand brushed against his that they realized how close they were. They stopped walking, half turning to each other, Devon’s cheeks flushing, an apology on her tongue. Barba opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a woman screaming.

Devon was a flurry of movement, embarrassment from the simple touch forgotten. Her first instinct was to shove Barba behind her, turning towards the noise. It took a moment for the woman’s words to process in her adrenaline-clogged brain.

“Help! He stole my purse!” she yelled, pointing. A man dressed like a burglar from a shitty movie, complete with loose jeans, a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, and dark sunglasses, was running on the path that Devon and Barba were currently on, a tan purse clutched in his hand. As the man tried to push passed them, Barba stuck out his leg. The man got caught on his foot and went down, slamming into the ground, glasses flying off his face.

“Great reflexes,” Devon said, jokingly, giving him a half-grin. She knelt down, grabbing his hands and pulling them behind his back. “Senior Special Agent Motely, FBI,” she informed the man. She grabbed the purse from his clutches and handed it to Barba.

“Did you doubt me?” Barba smirked back. He took the purse, looking towards the woman who had alerted them. She was on her way over, as well as the two bike cops. Barba handed over the purse, and Devon let the unis cuff the man. Devon noticed Barba’s hands were shaking; he must still be feeling anxious from the past couple days for this small action to affect him so.

“Come on,” Devon said, giving him a soft smile. She took Barba’s shaking hand, ignoring the jolt of electricity she felt from touching his burning skin, and led him away from the scene at a slow jog. She was hoping that a short jog would burn off the extra energy coursing through both of their veins. She led him out of the park and towards a small café across the street; one of her favorite spots.

“That was…surprisingly fun,” Barba chuckled, trying to catch his breath. Devon laughed with him; at least he had stopped shaking.

“Oh no, please stay as a lawyer. Don’t switch to cop,” Devon replied, feigning concern at his life choices.

“Why not? Afraid that I’d take your job?”

“No, but I think the power would go to your already inflated head.”

Barba scoffed as if offended. “Don’t lie; I’d outrank you in a week.”

“And there’s that ego I mentioned.” They chuckled, before a waitress came out to them. They both ordered a coffee—Devon got a pastry, too--and resigned to people watching while they waited for her to come back.

“To be honest, though, I am glad that we were able to help that woman out,” Devon said.

Barba agreed. “We got lucky that he ran towards the two people in the park that could help her.”

“That’s a little rude to the cops working in the park.”

Barba smirked. “But am I wrong?”

“Not at all,” she replied. Their coffee and food came just then, and they sat in silence, drinking and sharing the pastry. Devon broke the silence. “Today’s been really fun. I’m glad we decided to do this.”

“Me too. It’s nice getting out of the loft every now and again. To not worry about cases, files, rapes, murders, and traffickers.”

Devon nodded. “It does get…taxing, after a while. You have to find a balance in this line of work. It’s not always enough to just go home at the end of the day.”

Barba thought about what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say it. “I—I couldn’t imagine doing what you do. At least I get to go home at the end of the day. You just finished a three-year undercover op before this; you didn’t even get to go home. You didn’t get to talk to friends, hell you didn’t even have your own name. That sounds like a type of torture. And now, you still don’t get to go home.”

“At least I have some good company,” she smiled at him. She took a small bite of her pastry, then continued, “sometimes, it feels like torture. But you have to get so into your character, your fabricated life. You have to be invested in your fake job, fake friends, fake relationships. Sometimes, none of those things feel fake anymore. It’s just life…. I’ve learned that you need to have something, anything, that can pull you back to your real life.”

“What…what did you have?”

Devon’s cheeks turned red, though she tried to hide it by drinking her coffee. “You, uh, you got to promise me you will not tell a soul,” she said after putting her coffee down. She locked eyes with him. “I’m serious; no one must know of this, especially Olivia.”

Barba kept his face neutral, trying not to smile at how flustered Devon got, how cute she was when her face got all red like that. Was it really that bad? “Okay, I promise.”

Devon took a deep breath, let it out. Then she reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. She popped the case off, pulling something out. In her hand was a small square of what looked like folded paper. She went about unfolding it, and Barba realized it wasn’t a piece of paper, but a photo. It was so worn, so creased, that it was obvious how often she had needed to look at it during her time undercover. Once unfolded, she handed it to Barba, looking away sheepishly, sipping at her coffee.

The picture was faded, even though it was timestamped as only four years ago. It was a snapshot of what looked like a fun night in a dark bar. Devon was on the left, wearing a plastic top hat that read “Happy New Year’s! 2010” and with a drink in hand. She looked like she was laughing in the picture. Hanging on her, arm wrapped around the people on either side of her, was Olivia. It looked like she was trying to have them hold her up, but her face showed that it wasn’t happening. The photographer must have gotten her mid-fall—her mouth was open in a comical “O” shape. Barba only knew the man on the right because Olivia had showed her pictures before; his name was Elliot Stabler, Liv’s old partner. He wore a hat matching Devon’s, and it looked like Olivia was taking him down with her. His mouth was open in surprise, though a smile tugged at the corners. It was a great picture of three friends enjoying the start of the new year. Barba hated that he felt a pang of loneliness and jealousy looking at it. He looked up from the picture to find Devon watching him, cheeks still red.

“That was the first time since my childhood that I had celebrated my birthday; that I even had friends to celebrate with,” Devon explained, taking the photo back and gazing at it lovingly.

“Your birthday is New Year’s Eve?”

“Day, actually,” she corrected. She took one last look, then folded it up, stuffing it back into the phone case, popping it back on and replacing it in her pocket.

Barba wasn’t quite sure what to say. He was glad she had people to celebrate with, but also felt sad that it took her so long to find that kind of acceptance in her life. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said softly. There was nothing else to say. He was touched that she had opened up to him, had shown him something so personal.

Like in the park, they were both so enraptured in their thoughts that they stopped paying attention to their surroundings, especially their body language. They both had the same, stupid grin on their faces, as they stared into each other’s eyes. Barba had his hand on the table between them, and Devon didn’t even realize that she had placed hers on top of it. They were slowly leaning closer to each other, lost in the depths of their eyes, the closeness that they felt. Thinking about how today was a perfect date, yet neither would admit to the other that it even was one; it was just a walk in the park between friends. Sharing an intimate secret between friends. Holding hands, sharing a pastry, leaning closer, heads tilting, eyes closing…as friends….

Devon’s phone started ringing loudly, and they both jumped back, ripping their hands off the table. Devon fished her phone back out of her pocket, heart beating wildly. What just happened?

Barba looked flushed and a little…disappointed, grabbing his coffee and taking a sip, adverting his eyes. Devon looked at her phone screen, seeing her boss’s name lighting up across it.

“Uh oh…” she mumbled before answering. “Motely.”

“Is there a reason that NYPD’s Internal Affairs just handed me a file on you shooting a man two days ago?” Jenkins asked. He wasn’t angry; he just sounded tired.

Shit. “Oh, I meant to call you about that, sir,” Devon replied, heart still pounding. Her mind was going a mile a minute, stuck between thoughts of shooting Marco, IAB, and almost, maybe, about to kiss a certain counselor who was still avoiding her eyes. “You see, it’s a long story….”

“Well, you’d better come in and explain it to me, then.”

Devon looked to Barba, sipping innocently at his coffee. How much coffee does he still have? “Uh, permission to bring a civilian?” He finally looked at her at that, brow furrowed.

Jenkins sighed; he knew better than to ask questions. “Granted. Get here. Now.” And with that, he hung up.

Devon slowly put her phone down. She looked deeply into Barba’s green eyes. “Ever wanted to go to the FBI Headquarters?”

FBI Headquarters

Saturday, May 2nd. 12:37pm

Devon led Barba into the elevator leading to her boss’s office, his visitor badge bouncing off his chest.

“This is not what I had planned today when we agreed on a day off,” he mumbled, the doors closing behind them. Devon smirked.

“Sorry about this. I could’ve left you with a detective, if you really wanted. Or you can go back to the lobby; one of the field agents can watch you.”

Barba scoffed. “I’m not a child for you to pass around.”

“Then stop complaining like one,” she replied. He glared at her, and she stuck her tongue out in response. The elevator doors dinged and opened, and Devon led him down the long hallway to Jenkins’s office.

“Come in,” he said before she even had a chance to knock. Barba gave her a look, eyebrows raised. She shrugged in a yeah, that’s normal way, then opened the door for him, following him in. Jenkins kept his office space neat, tidy; a desk with two monitors, a couple of full bookshelves, and a small conference table in the corner. Although he was the Assistant Director, in charge of multiple sectors of field agents, he still didn’t spend much time in his office, usually only resigning to the space at night or on weekends to do paperwork. Much like Olivia, he worked his way up from field agent, and his heart and mind were still out in the field. He had trouble sitting still for too long, and was often out of the office, running teams or even in the field himself as much as possible. Which was why everyone respected him, whether they liked him or not.

“Counselor,” Jenkins said in his deep voice, nodding to Barba, before turning back to Devon. “Motely, report.”

Devon took a deep breath, then filled him in on everything that had happened since the end of January, starting from the night she met Barba, to talking to Olivia, to accepting the 24/7 protection of the ADA. “I honestly didn’t think it would be this…extensive,” Devon finished, lacking a better word. It was true, though; she knew what 24/7 protection was like, but she had only ever done it for a weekend at most. Never for months at a time. And though she knew that there was the chance of it lasting longer than she thought, it was different talking about it and actually doing it.

“So, this shooting of Marco Sorrel was in defense of Mr. Barba here,” Jenkins replied, looking at the case file from IAB.

“Yes sir.”

“And this protection order is still in effect? That’s why you brought him here, I take it?”

“Yes sir.” Devon felt Barba tense next to her; she had almost forgot he was there. He had said nothing since coming into the office. He knew when to bite his tongue.

“For how much longer? I need my top agent back to work.”

That knocked the wind out of Devon’s sails. It was the confirmation that after this was over, she would be going right back to work for the FBI. She wasn’t surprised, but it did solidify her resolve; she could not have a relationship with Barba, regardless of their feelings. She basically already told him as much that one day they talked a little too loosely about relationships.

“To my knowledge, there’s only 7 more Aces active in the city. Once they’re arrested, and the hit on Barba is off, I’ll be cleared for work again, sir,” Devon informed him.

Jenkins smirked. “Only 7? Tell that SVU Sergeant that I’ll make sure it’s taken care of before the weekend is over. I want to see you here, bright and early, on Monday morning; there’s a sex-trafficking ring I need you in on.”

Devon felt her stomach drop, her world crumbling. But she kept her face neutral, her voice steady. “Y-yes sir,” she said. Hearing the dismissal in his voice, she turned, Barba following suit, and left the office.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Saturday, May 2nd. 3:05pm

“So, are we going to talk about it?” Barba finally asked from the kitchen. They both had been silent leaving the Bureau, and even more distant on the ride back to Barba’s loft. They tried small talk, but it sizzled out after a couple words. They both resigned to doing their own thing; Devon researching on her laptop, Barba doing the dishes from breakfast.

“Talk about what?” Devon replied, but she knew. Of course, she did. But she wanted to hear him say it.

Barba sighed, turning off the water. He placed the last pan on the drying rack, drying his hands off before coming to stand in the doorway. “Let’s be adults about this. Please. You know what,” when Devon stayed silent, Barba continued, “about what happened, well, what almost happened at the café. About the fact that you’re going to be leaving soon. About…about where that leaves us.”

Devon’s heart fluttered when he said “us.” God, she wanted there to be an “us” so damn badly. But she couldn’t force herself to take that leap, to fully commit to him. How could she, when both of their schedules were so busy, so crazy? Jenkins said it himself; she was about to go right back into the field. She could be gone for months, years at a time. She could be hurt or worse. How could she possibly hurt Barba like that, put him through that?

“The café was a mistake,” she said as flatly as she could. She stared at his chest, not able to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Rafael, but there isn’t an ‘us.’ This is a job, and once it’s over, I’m back to working with the Bureau.” Devon was glad that there were no tears in her eyes; her years of training, of becoming personas were coming in handy, even if her own heart was breaking at her words. She dared a glance into Barba’s face.

He was crestfallen, his face falling. He had been sure, was positive, that she had felt the same way about him. Especially when they brushed hands in the park, when they almost kissed in the café. It took him weeks and weeks to build up the courage to make a move, and when her hand had enveloped his at that table, he knew that that was his moment. Then that damned phone call happened. And then, that damned meeting with her boss! And now she was going to leave him, by tomorrow if her boss was correct. That’s why he had to tell her, he had to know if she had felt the same.

“I thought you said that we were friends. That you cared about me,” he said softly. God, he sounded desperate, pathetic, even to himself.

Devon’s eyes softened, if only for a moment. “You are, and I do. But Barbs, we can’t be any more than that. You know that, right?” Her resolve was shaking under his intense stare. She could see him caving in on himself, his shoulders slumping slightly, his head falling, knees bending. His whole body language just screamed defeated. And she was the one delivering the blows.

He took a deep breath, stiffening his spine, raising his head; the prosecutor heading into a losing battle. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting you in this kind of situation. Forget I mentioned it.” With that, he made his way down the hallway and into his room, closing his door softly behind him. Devon opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Great, she thought. There goes that friendship. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, though; it made things a little less awkward. And it made her leaving easier. Plus, it’d be just like one of her many one-night stands anyways. No attachments: just cut all ties when she left. And leave the broken pieces of her heart behind.

As if the timing couldn’t be more perfect, Devon got an incoming call, from Olivia.

“Motely,” she answered, trying to sound professional.

“Devon! Great news: all the Aces have been rounded up and delivered to the NYPD. Did you call in the Feds to help?” Olivia asked.

Devon smiled grimly. “No, but my boss did offer his assistance after getting IAB’s report.”

“Well, he certainly assisted. Also, I just got a report that said that an hour ago, the Aces in Rikers got in a fight with the 32nd street gang in the prison courtyard. Jorge Ramirez was killed in the scuffle,” Olivia paused, letting her words sink in. “To our knowledge, the hit on Barba has been called off; you can go home, now.”

Devon sat in silence, trying to figure out what the hell the bombardment of emotions she felt was; it was all too much, too quickly. “Devon? You there?” she heard Liv say.

“Yeah, yeah sorry, I’m here. That’s…that’s great news, Liv. I’ll be sure to tell Barbs; I’m sure he’ll be relieved.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Devon made an excuse to hang up, citing the fact that she needed to pack and go grocery shopping before heading home. She sighed heavily, rubbing her hands over her face, but she stood and started collecting her small number of possessions.

“It’s done, isn’t it?” a voice came from down the hallway. Devon stopped, but didn’t turn to look.

“Yes; all the Aces have been arrested. Plus, Ramirez was shanked in a prison fight, so the hit’s been called off,” she turned to look at the man now, “congratulations, Barbs. You’re no longer a marked man.”

The door to his bedroom was wide open and Barba was leaning casually against the doorframe. Well, as casually as he could; his body was tight with tension, as much as he tried to hide it, and if Devon looked closely, she could see a small red ring around his eyes. He gave a stiff nod, peeling himself off the doorframe and coming out into the living room. Devon finished packing her things, zipping up her grip and slinging it over her shoulder. She felt a slew of emotions run through her; she needed to get out of there, but she was rooted to the spot.

“When will I see you again?” Barba murmured. It was barely a whisper, so quiet that it was hard to tell if he actually said it, or if Devon imagined it.

She gave him a soft smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure we’ll end up working on a case together at some point…I do help SVU from time to time,” she replied quietly. He gave her another stiff nod, not trusting himself to speak. She no longer trusted her own voice, and turned away, unable to look at his face anymore. She felt tears spring to her eyes, and she blinked them away rapidly, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Devon made her way to the front door, unlocking it, opening it slowly.

“Wait,” Barba finally choked out. Devon froze at the door, one foot already in the hallway. She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes softening for a moment. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, but no sound came out.

She gave him a small smile. “Stay safe,” she whispered, and then she was gone.

*********************

Devon didn’t go straight home. It was still early in the evening; the sun still hadn’t set, and it was still warm out. She also didn’t call a cab; instead opting to simply wander the streets, the grip slung over her shoulder soon forgotten as her mind, too, began to wander. She made it a full block before the tears began to flow, slowly at first, but then soon falling freely. She let them, ignoring the stares from strangers she walked by. It was good to let it all out, especially here, outdoors, rather than in her own space. She did wander in the general direction of her apartment—she lived about a 30-minute walk from Barba’s loft—and she took her time, weaving in and out of the streets. Finally, with the sun setting, and her shoulder growing sore from the weight, she made her way home.

*********************

Apartment of Devon Motely

Saturday, May 2nd. 7:35pm

After her undercover op in California, Devon had the cleaners from the FBI clean her place so that it wasn’t dusty or gross. This was not the case with the past three months with Barba; the place had obviously not been inhabited. Dust covered every surface, there was a weird smell that wasn’t there before, and it was stuffy. Devon sighed, having no motivation to clean anything, emotionally drained. She looked at the clock and sighed again, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything besides breakfast and the little pastry at the café by the park, right before everything fell apart. She should eat, but she didn’t feel hungry. She didn’t really feel anything right now except for emptiness…a longing, and a loneliness that she hadn’t felt in years.

She went to her room and checked her bed, sniffing the sheets. They smelled musty, and she knew she couldn’t sleep in that. She stripped the sheets and threw them on the floor in the corner; that was a tomorrow problem. She went to her closet and pulled out her back-up sheets but couldn’t bring herself to make the bed. Instead, she threw them on the bed in a heap and made her way to the kitchen. Hungry or not, she should eat something, especially if she planned on drinking—and she did plan on drinking; maybe it would help lessen some of the emptiness, though she knew, deep down, that that was a load of crap.

First things first, she looked in her liquor cabinet, finding some cheap whiskey. Fingers crossed, she looked in her fridge and, hallelujah, she found an unopened bottle of Coca Cola. She quickly made herself a strong drink, then took another look in the fridge. No food to be found. She checked her pantry next. A couple cans of soup and some long-expired rice. She winced, remembering that she had been gone for over three years now; she really needed to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

Sighing, she grabbed a box of instant rice and opened it. It wasn’t fuzzy or discolored, so she presumed it was fine. The alcohol she was drinking would kill anything in it, anyways. While waiting for the water to boil, she unpacked her grip, throwing the clothes in a laundry bin, plugging in her laptop, and taking out her toiletries, to be replaced with new ones tomorrow. She went back to the kitchen, grabbed a notepad, and started making a list of foods. Once done, she had a thought, and went to her supply closet. After checking the small amount of cleaners she had, she added ones she needed to the list too. She was on autopilot, thoughts blank, afraid to stop moving. Actions kept her thoughts at bay. Speaking of moving, she realized that she could finally go back to the gym tomorrow morning, something that she thought she’d be excited for, but in this state, it was a dull thought. She dreaded the pain she’d be in tomorrow—her little morning routine wasn’t intense enough to replace a gym workout—but knew it would be worth it in the end.

Satisfied with her list, Devon took her food and drink, then sat in her living room. She didn’t like how the apartment didn’t seem…familiar, not in the way she was used to, or how his had felt. Even with her work, she had lived in this apartment for about seven years now, and it was always a welcome relief coming home. Now, it was like a piece was missing. Suddenly, the silence was pushing in on her, deafening her. She lunged for the TV remote, turned on whatever sports station she could find, and sat there, picking at her rice as the announcers were droning on about…the Mets. It didn’t really matter what was on, as long as there was continuous talking, hence, sports.

It didn’t take long, though, before the monotone voices seemed to tune out of her consciousness. Devon finished her food and drink, went back to the kitchen to dispose of her dishes, and brought the whiskey and coke back to the couch with her. She quickly lost count of drinks, thinking more and more about, well, everything that happened the past couple months. She remembered the first night she had met the ADA, before she knew who he was. She thought about how he didn’t want her help at first, how he had told Olivia that he didn’t need her. How she had made a deal with him that she’d never bother him again afterwards.

She thought about those first few weeks together, about how they were awkward around each other, learning about each other. She thought about how fascinated she was the first time she watched him in court, the pride and awe the first time he won a conviction. She remembered how his eyes lit up, how he set his jaw when he ran through his arguments with her in his office. She remembered how his green eyes conveyed concern when she got stabbed in the shoulder. She remembered his little smirk when he found something amusing. She wondered when she noticed all these little things about him.

She was shocked when she felt the tears on her cheeks, didn’t notice them pooling in her eyes. So, what if she loved him? It wasn’t going to work; she knew that! She had to move on with her life, let him move on, too. He deserved someone who could love him with their whole heart, who could be there for him when he needed them. She couldn’t be that person; she was always on call, and it was never a guarantee that see would come home at night.

Devon let out a loud sniffle, trying to control her emotions. It was final; she would forget about Rafael Barba. She would get a good night sleep, clean her apartment tomorrow, and then go back to work on Monday. And that was that. She finished her drink, wiped the tears out of her eyes, then went to her room. She saw the sheets clumped on her bed and let out a frustrated scream.

#everyone deserves love #edl #rafael barba x oc #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #everyone deserves love chapter 8 #edl ch 8 #fanfic #my writing #angst

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