#dimple but dark and an angry cloud

[mothnether]

John in pj's because i KNOW he would only wear comfortable clothing and im here for it. his jacket came to me in those delirious seconds before sleep

alt john where i realised i just recreated kim from disco elysium

[iwanty0uu]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : lowkey ft: Ony

You plopped on the couch next to your boy best-friend, Ony as you played with the strings of your Victoria Secret sweat pants. Your nostrils inhaled the cannabis that he exhaled, which was the closes that you felt to him, the closest that he was to being inside of you. The scent lingered through the living room of your apartment, traveling through the window, making a careful escape before sounding the smoke detectors. The smoke was cautious, the same way your feelings were when you were with him, they crept around you, lingering in the back of your mind, clouding your senses with the lightest mist, but it still managing to nag at you, never fully disappearing.

It seemed cliche, but you met Ony your sophomore year of high-school, when he was in his junior.  Eventually , he adopted you since you were the youngest in all of his classes, and he thought your over achieving attitude was very cute (honors shit) ; and it led to you being besties, graduating early and getting accepted into your dream college while Ony started to trade school, studying business. He always seen you as a baby, supported your decisions, anndddd was there to defend you, always. But lately this “big brother” act has been feeling different. Less emotional more…sexual..

So, as you sat feeling a buzz just by inhaling the smoke, you turned to him abruptly, eyes meeting the side of his face, watching while he drew the smoke into his mouth, cheeks sinking into his face, emphasizing the sharp of his jawline. A second passed, air still warm, but he looked at you back, exhaling.

“Yo wassup-“

“Teach me how to smoke.” You interrupted, turning your body to face him criss-cross apple sauce style on the couch, black acrylic nail waving in his face before he could dismiss your thought. 

“Ony I’m a big girl and I can make my own decisions. I want you to teach me.”

You said putting your all into your response, you put your grown woman voice on, the same voice you used giving your Valedictorian, and you still were met with that loud ass, sassy ass, tone that Ony always used when you asked stupid shit.

“MOTHA FUKA NO!” He said, smoke leaving his mouth after every word, coughing as the question caught him off guard, smoke going through the wrong tubes, you could have sworn you seen the smoke leave through his ears.

“Fine.” You said grabbing your phone and texting his closest homie Connie who was also a plug that loved you like a little sister. Wasting no time, you grabbed your phone and ran to the door, ignoring Ony’s questions and angry comments, he was such an old head sometimes. You made your way down the south hall, and towards the common room where Connie said he was,feet tapping on the hallway floor, your fuzzy bed slippers slid down the tiles. Connie had no time to react to the hands that pulled him away from his chair, snatching the pre- roll from his hand, and he watched the hand that was connected to a girl who demanded,

“YOU WILL TEACH ME HOW TO SMOKE. NOW.” His hazel eyes widened, cheeks fixing themselves into a grin revealing his grill, glistening even in the horrible hallway light. His dimples were always the opposite of how he presented himself, all black sweatsuit and favorite pair of Black Cat sneakers on. He personality was almost too dark for his soft feautures, but it fit him. Before he could even answer, he realized that the girl was you, and it made him laugh even harder. Ony came down the hallway, his big ass feet echoed through the common area and you knew he would be on your ass.

So, like any sensible person, you ran away from the sexy scary black man looking for you.

He then booked it around the corner, closing in on you, and he grabbed you by your waist, hoisted you over his shoulder, giving your ass a tap as he jogged up the stairs like it was nothing.Opening the door, ignoring your protests and shutting it behind him.

“PUT ME DOWN NIGGA YOU GOT ME LOOKING LIKE A PICK ME IN THE HALLWAYS.” you complained, fixing your curly hair as it fell into your eyes. He then threw you on the couch, pillows flying, INCLUDING YOURSELF, from the impact. You bounced and laughed when you noticed  how angry he looked. But his furrowed brows, and sharp eyes made you realize that he was deadass…

Your life flashes before your eyes as you regained consciousness, you felt Ony’s hard thrusts into your tight pussy, expanding your walls and filling you all the way to the brim. You don’t exactly remember how you started having sex but you know that you initiated it for a fact. And he was even more upset when you tried to tap out after he ate you out.

So now, you found yourself face down into the pillows of the continuously bouncing couch, ass up, feeling his dick curve up into your spine.You twitched as you squeezed around his dick, biting your lip as your mouth watered, he grabbed your waist and thrusted harder, deeper. 

“Onyyyy I’m sorryyyy I- can’tttt uhh”

You breathed out, reaching your chubby hands behind you in an attempt to slow down the mean thrusts that your “bestfriend” ruthlessly gave you.

“Nah, you said you a big girl right?”-

He paused, sweat beaming down his glistening skin, the cold light of your kitchen illuminating your living room, revealing the secret that both you and the boy shared in the dead of night. But honestly, the fuck he gave you sounded nothing secretive, with your lewd moans, and the claps make by his thick bucking hips and the fat of your ass being loud enough to wake up a fuckin hibernating bear.

“Then take this big fuckin— shitttttt— Then take this big fuckin dick”

He said harshly, so harsh, you wanted to cry from overstimulation and his sassy ass attitude. He slapped your plump ass as you gasped in pain. Although you loved the pleasure, he went too hard and you couldn’t manage his thick private area :/

You decided to grab his thick hand that held your waist like he was holding the world, the harshest most loving touch you’ve felt. You squeezed hard, and looked behind you, lashes wet and clumping together, making eye contact with him. You watched as he bit his bottom lip and slowed down as you watched his facial expression change in realization.

Here he was, bullying your pretty fragile, inexperienced pussy, and you felt him pull out. Apologetic hands flooding your back, a trail of kissed leading up to your neck as he lightly flipped you over on your back so that he rested in between your legs, still hovering over you.

“Baby I’m so sorry I forgot I swear I didn’t mean it” he said kissing the fat of your cheeks. (the ones on your face nasty.)

You didn’t often see Ony so sappy and apologetic but it was obvious that he meant it, and who would you be to not throw a pity party?

Your bottom lip curled inwards as your eyebrows indented, you allowed your eyes to water and sniffle while you watched him kiss your tears away. 

“Ny that was mean…” you sniffles, rubbing your eyes like a cranky baby.

 *insert crocodile tears*

“I’m so sorry my love.. let me make it up to you.”

He said moving your hands, kissing your lips while he gently handled you.

“You gotta- *sniff* buy me sushi *sniff* n teach me how to roll and take me shopping,”

You demanded,your soft hands rubbing his templed while he pecked your face lightly.

~ “Whatever you want princess”

THE END!

I HOPE IT MET YOUR EXPECTATIONS!!!! -𝓵𝓮𝓵𝓮 <3 @mya2real

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 36

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: we got that xmas hangover.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The living room is silent as you enter. Andy remains as he’s been, sitting at the corner of the couch, beer in hand as he stares at the television. Amber distracts herself with a hanging landscape on the wall, seemingly trying to disappear into that photographic world. Steve clears his throat as he follows you.

“Do you we have a truce?” The doctor asks.

He doesn’t get much of an answer. Andy slurps loudly from the neck of the bottle and Amber shrugs and grumbles. You hug yourself and stop at the end of the couch. Why can’t they get along? They both love you, don’t they?

“Bub,” Amber spins away from the framed picture, “were you going to show me your painting?”

“Oh, uh… yeah,” you rub your neck, cradling your elbow as you peek over at Andy. He stays transfixed by the television. It’s deliberate. He’s tuning you out. 

“Can I tag along?” Steve asks.

You nod and make yourself stand straight. You point them through the door before flitting through yourself and lead them down the hall. You sigh as you escape the tension of Andy’s silent sulking. 

You fumble with the garage door, you can feel the cold through the metal handle. You get it open and the light inside flicks on as the sensor triggers. You stand back and wait for them to go first.

Amber takes the lead, then Steve passes with a gentle smile, and you trail after them. They descend the few steps as their breath clouds visibly in the cold air. Your stomach flips as they turn their attention to the painting. They stop as they consider your work.

You near the edge of the easel and chew your lip, “do you like it?”

“Bub, it’s so good,” Amber claps her hands. “You did this all by yourself?”

You nod emphatically and smile. She marvels at the large canvas as Steve steps closer with narrowed eyes. His cheek dimples as he gives the pigment an inquisitive stare.

“How did you do this?” He asks breathlessly, “the feathers…” he raises his hand but doesn’t touch the canvas, “they look real.”

“Well, um, I just… did my best,” you sway back and forth, nearly squealing in delight. 

You step away from the easel and turn to take in your work. A few days ago, you wanted to paint over it all but now, you wouldn’t dare change a stroke. It really is nice. And you did all that!

“It has personality,” Steve continues, “I can tell you made it for Andy… it looks a bit angry.” Steve chuckles and you give him a sheepish look, brows rising high, “not in a bad way. 

“It’s cold out here,” Andy startles you as he stands at the top of the stares, filling the doorway with his tall figure.

“Not that bad,” Amber rubs her hands together. “Colder outside.”

Andy sighs and rolls his eyes, “not arguing, just saying.”

Steve sniffs, “we’ll come in soon. We’re just admiring the art.” He brings his hand to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully, “what are your rates?”

You look at him in surprise as Andy lets out a ‘huh’.

“Might want something small for the office,” he muses, “I know they’re kinda plain but I always thought nightingales were pretty.”

“I like nightingales,” you chirp.

“That sounds like a fun project,” Amber encourages.

You still feel a bit cloudy but your heart swells happily. A new project is always a new adventure. In the back of your mind, you think it's a good distraction. You glance back at Andy as he glowers.

“I should have time since I’m all done this,” you say.

“I’ll be more than happy to compensate you for that time,” Steve assures, “do you offer lessons? I always wanted to get into painting. I recommend it to so many patients, I might just take my own advice.”

“I’m… oh, I could…”

“You don’t need to make up your mind now,” he crosses one arm, cradling and elbow as he stretches his other hand wide, “I’m thinking out loud.” He shudders and wiggles his shoulders, “brr, it is cold out here.”

“Let’s go warm up with some tea,” Amber suggests as she pats your back, “huh? Tea always helps.”

“Sure,” you walk beside her toward the door.

Andy looms as you approach, not backing up until you get to the top of the steps, Amber just behind you. He inches away, stern as he watches you pass. He doesn’t move until Steve comes inside and he reaches to slam the door behind him.

“Don’t wanna leave that open,” he mutters, “heat bill’s high enough.”

🕊️

Amber lingers at the door. Steve stands behind her, neither eager to be away. Your sister clings to your hand, swinging your arms between you. You see the worry in her smile.

“I’ll miss you, bub,” she says, squeezing your hand.

“Miss you too,” you eke out, “you could come back again. Maybe tomorrow?”

She hesitates and glances past you to the doorway. Her lips slant, “yeah, that’d be nice. Or maybe… you can come visit.”

“Oh,” you blink, surprised by the offer. You hadn’t thought of going home; to her house. You were too afraid to invite yourself, “maybe. That’d be nice.”

“I still have all your things, you know? You could grab some stuff,” she offers.

“Sure, I… yeah,” you pull your hand from hers, twiddling your fingers. What about now? You don’t ask but you want to as you hear Andy in the next room.

“Have a good night,” she croaks and pulls you into a hug. It’s so tight, you can’t breathe, “please… be careful.”

“Amb,” you touch her side, “I’m okay.”

“I know,” she holds you close and rocks you, “I know, you’re strong.” She parts and keeps you at arm’s length, “you can call me. Any time, you know?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle, “Amb, really…”

“Make sure you call my office too,” Steve intones as he steps up behind her, “should get a time in before next weekend.”

“Alright,” you chew your lip, “I’ll… call. Both of you. Promise.”

“You better,” Amber’s lips quiver, “please, I… I worry.”

“I will,” you avow firmly, “okay?”

“It’s late,” Steve touches her shoulder, “we’re all tired.”

You clutch your hands together, sinking your nails into your skin as you squeeze tight. You’d been so happy to see Amber, the thought of her leaving hadn’t even crossed your mind. Now the reality of it hits you like a bus. You can go with her.

Andy coughs from the other room. Your hope dissolves and you make yourself smile. You should stay, make sure he’s okay. After all he’s done for you, you owe it to him.

“Good night,” you squeak.

“Night, bub,” Amber says, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“See ya,” Steve waves over her shoulder as he pulls open the door, “get some sleep. Oh, and drink water.”

“Thanks,” you murmur and come forward as they sidle out the door.

You hesitantly shut the door in their stead and lock it. You stay and watch them leave through the window. The headlights of the car flash as it chirps and their doors open and close sharply. As long as the day’s been, it’s not over yet.

You shiver as cool air wafts up from under the door. You back up, crossing your arms, and turn slowly to face the empty house. You take careful but uncertain steps down the hall and stop at the threshold of the front room. 

Andy’s head leans against the back of the couch as a sports recap shows plays on the television. You inch closer and peek around the side as you approach. His eyes are closed as his arm drapes over the armrest.

You ponder leaving him there. You’re tired and you’re starting to feel a bit sick to your stomach. The wine coats your stomach sourly and rises in acrid belches. You stand stuck in indecision. You could lie and say he wouldn’t wake up.

“They gone?” He startles you with the question.

You nod and gulp. His head drifts over and he looks at you, expression drawn with discontent. You pick your thumbnail and bounce on your heels.

“Amber helped me clean up,” you say, “so… we can go to bed. It’s late–”

“It’s nine,” he stretches his arm out, “come here.”

He latches onto you, pulling your arm up, trailing his hand down to your wrist. He guides you around the front of the couch as he sits forward. He lures you in as his beer-laced breath tinges your nose.

“I’m tired,” you take his hand in both of yours, “we should lay down–”

“We don’t have to go to bed,” he insists.

“I want to, Andy, please? My head hurts–”

“Because you drank too much wine,” he reproaches, “who’s fault is that?”

You wince and your eyes flick over to the empty bottle on the end table, then back to him. He sighs and curls his lip, “beer isn’t as strong as wine, did you know that? Hmm? Of course you don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I…” you quaver, “I’m trying–”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he sneers, “to embarrass me.”

“What?”

“All day. Humiliating. You chose everyone but me. You hurt me, dove.”

“No, I wasn’t– I didn’t–”

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head and looks away, “you said you love me but I think you’re lying to me.”

“What?” You pout.

“Just like you did with Amber. You’re using me,” he accuses.

“No.”

“Then what are you doing, huh? Dove,” he reaches forward and frames your waist, pulling you in as he slides to the front of the cushion, “if you love me, prove it.”

You bat your lashes as your mouth falls open. You don’t understand. You did everything he wanted all day. You cooked, you cleaned, and you tried to spend time with him but he pushed everyone away. Somehow it’s all your fault again.

He runs his hand up your arm and tickles your neck. He holds your chin between his thumb and index as he stares you down. You surrender. You’re too tired to fight. You lean in and kiss him.

The taste of him makes you sick. It’s wheaty and alcoholic, not as sweet as the wine. His arm hooks around you as he pulls you against him. You press your hands to his chest. His hand dips down your back and he gropes your ass, purring into your mouth.

His touch wanders further and he bends your leg, lifting it over his as his other hand travels down to mirror the movement. He urges you into his lap as he leans back. You part from his lips, straddling him awkwardly as you keep your hands flat to his chest.

“Andy,” you babble, “please, let’s go to bed–”

“We’ll stay here,” he reaches to grab the back of your head, yanking you close. Your arms bend but you keep your lips away from his, “what’s your problem?”

“Andy, please,” your stomach swims violently, “I don’t feel good.”

“You’re fucking drunk,” he slurs, “of course you don’t feel good.”

“Let me go,” you wriggle on top of him.

“What does it fucking matter?” He hisses, “you can lay on your back and do your duty.”

You flinch and slap his chest with one hand, “that’s mean. Andy, let me–”

You yipe as suddenly you’re scooped up and swept onto your back. The impact on the cushion knocks the air out of your chest as Andy quickly puts himself over you. His hand goes to your neck as he holds you down, pinning you as he lays between your open legs.

“Andy,” you beg as you grasp his thick arm, “you’re scaring me.”

“I just want a kiss,” he growls.

You close your eyes as he leans in again. You let him kiss you. He smothers you with the sticky lips as you squirm. A kiss isn’t much. A kiss won’t last long.

His knees shift as he raises himself slightly. Your heart leaps. His other hand creeps along the short hem of your dress and he tickles your thigh. Your stuck splayed beneath him as you writhe. He feels along the lacy edge of your panties and you whimper into his mouth.

You hit his shoulders as you try to push him away. You turn your head and gulp in air, “Andy, please, get off.”

“Baby, I need you,” he nuzzles your temple as he tugs aside your panties, “please, I’ve been waiting all day.”

Your chest pounds and your ears ring. You shove him helplessly as your chest racks painfully. No, no, no. The word echoes in your head. ‘You can tell them no…’

You ball your hands and hit Andy harder, “no!” You shout, “Andy, no! I don’t want it. I don’t want you!”

He ignores you, nibbling on your ear as he roughly jams his fingers between your folds. You squeal as your breath hitches. You can hardly puff it out as your heart hammers faster and faster. 

“No, no, no…” you chant as you struggle beneath him, “no, get off… no, no…”

You reach above you and grab onto the arm rest. He hardly notices as he touches you, violates you. His fingers slip along your entrance, poking you dryly as you whine and plead. You grunt and pull yourself up with all your strength. You manage to drag yourself up only a few inches.

“Dove,” he snarls as he lifts head, his fingers delving into your cunt, “be good—”

You swing your elbow down. Not a thought, not a doubt stops you from cracking the pointed bone across his head. You’re not thinking, you’re too scared for that. His hand slips from between your legs as he cries out and cradles his head.

You wriggle under him, kicking and flailing until you slip free, falling heavily onto the floor. Your skirt is around your waist as your panties cling in the crease of your leg. You pant wildly as you crawl away from the couch, trying to get as far as you can.

You stop only as you hear a strange noise. You look back, sitting on your knees as you fold your hands to your chest, trying to calm the swell of fear. Andy stays on the couch, folded over as he holds his face. His body shakes as he sobs.

“Dove,” he croaks and sniffs, “how could you?” He slowly pushes himself up, a hand over his eye, “you hurt me. Why would you do that?”

You flutter your lashes as the pain in his voice stabs deep into your heart. You didn’t mean to hurt him, you never wanted to hurt anyone. But you were afraid and he wouldn’t stop. You just wanted him to stop.

“I– I said— no…” you eke out.

He bends forward, holding his head as he curls his shoulders. He looks small and weak. You shakily get your feet under you and stand. He wipes away tears as he hides his face from you. As you come close, you reach to touch him and he recoils.

“Andy, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t touch me,” he swats you away, “don’t—” He looks up at you, his blue eyes swirling with fear, “dove…” his lip trembles, “you’re scaring me.”

You rip your hand back and grip your wrist against your chest. You back up as if you’ve been struck. You? Scaring him? But… 

He stands, watching you as if you might lunge. His shoulders stay rounded and hunched as he staggers, his hand still on one side of his face as he whimpers in pain. You reach your hand out and he winces again.

“Stay away,” he holds out an arm to shield himself, “dove, please, don’t hurt me again.”

He backs up, his gait uneven, almost stunned. He drags himself around the couch, sniffling loudly as he warily passes through the doorway. You look down at your hands, the throbbing still in your elbow from hitting him. You… hit him.

[jessicaloons]

Chapter 28:

I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

TW: spicy content; 16+

Darkness clouded my mind. White noise ringing in my ears. Body numb. The blurry images of a red car, flipped over with high speed colliding into the wall. A person in a red race suit on a stretcher. Lifeless. A paramedic checking the pulse but shaking his head. Dead. Gone. My heart clenched. My once numb body now filled with excruciating pain. A faint noise caught my attention. Voices. Beeping. Shuffling. The images of the red car got sharper. A number visible. 16. The lifeless persons helmet looked familiar. Charles. I inhaled sharply and opened my eyes in horror. I sat up abruptly. Eyes blinking, trying to get used to the bright light. I looked around. Medical centre. I pulled the oxygen mask away from my face and tried to breathe on my own. My ears started to ring and my chest hurt.

"Hey, hey, hey! Lizzie! Put the mask back on!" Dad walked up next to me, pulling the mask up again. I was trembling. Tears stinging in my eyes, blurring my vision.

"Charles." I croaked out. Voice barely audible. Hoarse.

"Lizzie…" Dad begun but I shook my head. Reality settling in. He was gone.

"I want to see him! Now!" I cried and Dad sat down at the edge of the bed, trying to comfort me, but I pushed him off "I want to see him! I want to see him! Please!" I whimpered and tears were streaming now uncontrollably down my face. I pulled my knees up to my chest. Body shivering. Repeating over and over "I want Charles."

Dad said something but I couldn’t understand him. I was just wailing and crying. I lost him. After everything we’ve gone through. After we’ve finally found our way to each other, realising that we belonged together. After I spent years of denying my feelings for Charles. We’ve wasted so much time. So much time with yearning and dreaming of each other. I shook my head, thinking about Charles. His smile. His eyes. His dimples. His lips. The way he kissed me this morning before we headed to the track. The way he held me in his arms. The way he looked at me, with so much love and admiration that I blushed. Hard. And his laugh after seeing me blushing. His laugh. The most beautiful sound in the world. All of the memories of him were crashing down on me. They were flooding my mind and a new wave of devastation was hitting me. Dad tried to push me back into the cushions but I didn’t let him. He tried to talk to me but my mind didn’t register it. Then I saw a nurse fiddling with the IV tube, saw the syringe. For a moment I looked at her stunned, then turned to Dad, as I was about to say something I felt tiredness overcoming my body. My mind. Darkness surrounding me.

Charles POV:

I stirred in the bed. I felt dizzy. Body sore. Head aching terribly. I looked around. Medical centre. I closed my eyes again. What happened? I was overtaking Max, we touched slightly. I hit a kerb. Next thing I knew I was hanging upside down in the car. I opened my eyes again and carefully sat up. My race suit and boots on a chair in the corner. Fireproofs as well. I looked down at me, wearing a hospital gown. I tried to get up as I heard a commotion outside the room.

"I just want to know if he’s okay!" an angry voice I knew all too well.

"Sir, I’m sorry, but only team members or family are allowed to this information." another male voice "Please leave or I have to call security."

"You listen to me now. That boy in there is like my son, I know him for more than half his life and I just want to know if he’s okay! Just tell me he’s okay and I can go. But I need to know that he’s gonna be okay. Please!" Juergen’s firm voice began to weaken and I pushed the call button next to my bed.

"Hello?!" I shouted and the door opened and I saw Juergen standing in the hallway.

"Charles, are you okay?" he asked and I nodded then I looked at the guy who stood now in front of my bed.

"He’s family!" I said to him and he sighed, then he turned to Juergen and nodded. He immediately stormed into the room.

"You kids are killing me!" he whispered as he hugged me carefully.

"I’m sorry!" I chuckled a little, flinching as the movement caused a slight pain in my ribcage.

"Are you really okay? No injuries? Nothing broken?" he asked and pulled away holding my shoulders and eyed me for any visible damages.

"I don’t know to be honest? I feel okay, I guess?" I answered and we looked at the nurse.

"You’re probably having a slight concussion and whiplash. Maybe one or two heavily bruised or broken ribs. But otherwise everything is okay." he said and I nodded "There will be a doctor coming soon, you’ll be transferred to the hospital for further tests, just in case."

"Thank you." Juergen said and the nurse left. "Never a dull moment with you guys."

"Yeah… sorry!" I said sheepishly and looked at him "Who won? Where’s Lizzie?"

"The priorities…" he chuckled dryly but then his look changed "George won… and Lizzie is… umm she’s…" he stopped for a moment and I looked at him, panic settling in

"What happened? Is she okay?" I asked.

"She’s okay… she’s just down the hall. She umm… she had a break down. She thought you were, well, she thought you died. Yeah it was a mess. I think everyone thought it for a moment… but anyways. She broke down, couldn’t breathe, she had a panic attack and they had to sedate her earlier…" Juergen said and I scrambled out of the bed, pain shooting through my side "What are you doing? Charles!"

"I need to see her!" I said and put the fireproofs back on.

"Charles! The IV bag!" Juergen said and I looked down at my hand, blood dripping from the ripped out catheter. He handed me a tissue from the sideboard and opened the door, looking for the nurse who walked back in.

"Sorry. I just need to get out of here. Can you just I don’t know. Put a band aid on?" I asked him and he sighed.

"You need your fluids!" he said and I shook my head "Yes, you do! Sit down I’ll take care of it!"

I put my shirt on and sat down on the bed, to catch my breath, slowly inhaling. The nurse cleaned my hand and put a band aid on.

"You have 15 minutes! Then I’ll come and get you! Understood?" he said and I nodded.

"Understood. Thank you!" I said and got up. With Juergens help we walked down the hallway. "What time is it? How long was I out? How long is Lizzie out? God my brain is hurting!"

"The race finished 3 hours ago. It took a little to clear the track. Lizzie broke down when the rest of the grid went back to the pits and she was out of the car, watching how the marshals and the medical team got you out of your car. You laid there. Not moving. One of the paramedics checked your pulse and then he shook his head. Lizzie thought it meant you have no pulse… that you were dead… to be honest a lot of people thought so…" Juergen said and I swallowed hard.

"It wasn’t like that, the one guy checked my pulse when the other one asked if he should remove my helmet, that’s why he shook his head, he meant for the helmet to stay on for the moment." I sighed, thinking how it must’ve looked for Lizzie, Maman. Everyone! "I need to call mum! What if she also thought so?"

"Right as we arrived at the medical centre I saw how they took care of you and saw that you’re… well kinda okay, or at least alive, so I texted everyone." Juergen said and I squeezed his arm.

"Thank you."

He opened the door to the room where Lizzie was lying, the room was long, with many beds on both sides, around one on the other side was a curtain drawn close. There was an IV bag attached to her, a heart monitor and the oxygen mask, she also had a little bruise on her cheek. She looked peaceful, as if she was sleeping. I took her hand in mine, she felt cold. And then it hit me. The flashback to her accident. When I visited her, still in coma, lying in her bed looking as if she was sleeping. Just like now. And both times were my fault. I didn’t know that I was shaking until Juergen put his hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me down into a chair.

"She’s okay, Charles. She’s just a little exhausted and well, sedated." Juergen whispered and I nodded slowly "The nurse said she will be awake in the next hour."

"I’ll stay here." I said but he sighed.

"Charles you have to go to the hospital. They need to check you thoroughly through!"

"I’m not leaving her side, not until she wakes up and sees me." my decision was made.

"Okay." he walked away and I looked after him.

"Where are you going? Can you- can you please stay… I don’t want to be alone with her like this…" I said quietly and Juergen smiled.

"I’m just getting you something to drink and tell your friendly nurse that you won’t be back in the next minutes like you said…"

"Okay. Thank you."

"It’s okay. Just… just stay there, don’t move, don’t do anything, okay? Just relax."

"Okay." I said and then turned around to Lizzie.

The beeping of the heart monitor, the smell of disinfection, Lizzie’s frame in the hospital bed. The flashback wouldn’t stop. I felt my chest constricting, breathing getting harder. The first accident was because I let someone in our life’s who made her run away from me, who made her be at home at this day, who made her jump in front of that car. Miami was also my fault, she wouldn’t have the sleep paralysis without the accident. Today was because I couldn’t control my car, because I wasn’t a good enough driver to control my car, wouldn’t I crashed out like that, Lizzie wouldn’t have be here. I brought her more pain than anyone else. I always wanted to protect her. Care for her. But she ended up in a hospital bed three times already because of me. I felt my eyes stinging. The smell of the disinfection burning my nostrils. The beeping of the heart monitor making my head throb. My ears ringing.

"Lizzie, mon amour, please wake up." I whispered, voice hoarse "I’m okay. I’m not leaving you. Never. But you have to wake up. Please."

I kissed her hand, gently stroked her cheek, the bruise, her lips.

"It’s all okay. We’re okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. But please wake up now." my voice barely a whisper. I felt hot tears streaming down my face "I’m so sorry, Lizzie, so sorry! I didn’t want this to happen. I’m so sorry!"

I couldn’t breathe. My sight turning blurry, head pounding, ribcage throbbing in pain. I felt dizzy. But I kept holding on to Lizzie’s hand. I couldn’t let go of her. She had to feel that I was here. I tried to focus on her face. Her beautiful face. Hidden behind the fogged up oxygen mask. Images of a tube flashing before my eyes and I had to close them.

"No. No. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay, mon amour! You’re sleeping. You’re okay." I mumbled again and again.

I flinched when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Marina, telling me to leave, get home, get some sleep.

"I’m not leaving her side. I’m staying. I have to. It’s my fault. It was always my fault. I’m so sorry. So sorry!" I whispered, but the hand was way too strong, turning me away from Lizzie.

"Charles? Hey? Breathe. You must breathe!" Juergen’s voice echoed in my head "Come on. Breathe! Look at me! Charles! Look at me!"

I tried to blink away the tears and saw the blurry face of him in front of me, looking worried. I trembled, breathing still ragged and he pulled me into a careful embrace. Holding me close and I felt my body relax. And after a while my vision turning clear again. Breathing became regular. The trembling stopped. The ringing in my ears gone.

"It’s okay. You’re okay. Lizzie is okay. It’s all good! Take a deep breath, alright?" Juergen said and gently pulled away from me, looking at me intently. I nodded and he slowly let go of me, pushing me back down into the chair.

"I’m sorry… I think I had… I had a little -…" I stopped abruptly and swallowed hard.

"A little panic attack? Yeah. And that’s nothing you have to apologise for. You hear me?" he patted my arm and I nodded a little "Here, drink something." he handed me a water bottle and I emptied it almost in one go "I talked to the nurse. As soon as Lizzie is awake they will take you to the hospital. They need to do some check ups. You don’t look to good and I think the way you’re wincing with every breath is a clear indicator that you most definitely have some broken ribs…"

"It’s nothing." I mumbled, leaning my head back against the chair, still clutching Lizzie’s hand between mine.

"You two… you are both so incredibly stubborn… that will be funny in the future." he mumbled and I looked at him "In a couple of years, you’ll know what I mean."

He sat down on the other side of the bed, pulling his phone out, calling our family, explaining them that we were both okay. We sat in silence, both looking at Lizzie, waiting for her to wake up, when she stirred a little, I sat up.

"I think she’s waking up! Do we need to call a nurse?" I gently squeezed her hands.

"I’ll go. You stay." Juergen got up and left.

"Lizzie, mon amour, can you hear me?" I carefully stroked her cheek and she exhaled loudly, fogging up the oxygen mask even more "I’m here Lizzie. It’s all good. We’re all good." I kissed her hand, waited for her to wake up. Waited for her big blue eyes to open.

"Charles…" a faint whimper and I looked at her. She looked like she was in pain and my heart clenched "Charles…" her voice full of sorrow and agony.

"I’m here, mon amour! Open your eyes. I’m here!" I scooted closer to her "Open your beautiful eyes for me."

"Charles…" Lizzie cried out loud and her eyes shot open, looking frantically around, her hand I wasn’t holding shooting up to rip the oxygen mask off her face. Her eyes slowly focused on me and I saw the tears forming, spilling over, streaming down her face "Charles?" her voice cracked when she brought her hand up to my cheek, carefully touching it, as if she was scared.

"I’m here. I’m okay! We’re okay!" I covered her hand over my cheek and felt how my body immediately relaxed under her touch.

"I thought you were dead. I thought I had lost you. After I finally got you, I already lost you…" she cried, sitting up, pulling me in, her whole body trembling "I felt like all my walls were crumbling in. I thought I lost you." she cried into the crook of my neck and I rubbed soothing circles on her back, ignoring the searing pain in my side from her tight hold.

"But you didn’t, mon amour. I’m here! We’re both here! We’re both okay!" I kissed her temple.

"I love you. So much. You can never leave me. You just can’t. I couldn’t… I couldn’t survive. I wouldn’t want to! I love you. I love you. I love you.” she whispered over and over and I heard the door opening.

"Lizzie, hey my little owl, you need to let go of Charles." Juergen cooed and rubbed her arm lightly.

"I’m never letting go." she whispered and he chuckled a little.

"Lizzie, you crush his already injured ribs even more, you need to let go." he said and Lizzie immediately pulled back, eyes wide.

"Did I hurt you?" her face fell and I cupped her cheeks.

"Never, you hear me? No matter what! I always want you to hold onto me!" I said and she took my hand in hers, kissing my knuckles.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know." Lizzie said quietly and I shook my head.

"It’s okay!" I kissed the crown of her head as the door opened again.

"Mr. Leclerc, I have to insist on your transfer to the hospital!" the nurse said and I nodded, Lizzie looking scared.

"I’m okay, Lizzie. Just some check-ups! You rest a little and then I see you back in the hotel, okay?" I kissed her gently, her lips dry but still soft "Everything is good, okay?" she nodded slowly, kissing my cheek one last time and then I got up "Text me as soon as you’re back in the hotel." I looked at Juergen.

"I will. Andrea is waiting outside with your bag and your phone." he got up and hugged me carefully "Please don’t do anything stupid on your way to the hospital, okay?"

"I promise." I chuckled a little and with one last smile for Lizzie I left with the nurse. Andrea waiting for me next to an ambulance.

"At least it’s a red car." he chuckled as soon as he helped me inside "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine. I’m more worried about Lizzie…" I sighed leaning back in the stretcher, closing my eyes.

"Seeing her was… I think heartbreaking isn’t even enough… she was broken… and the camera guy zoomed in on her. On every damn screen you could see Lizzie breaking down. It was horrible." he said and I sat up abruptly, hissing in pain.

"He did what?" I couldn’t believe it.

"Yeah. We tried to shield her with our body’s afterwards but it was already too late, the breakdown was for the whole world to see."

A lump formed in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

"I just want this check-ups to be over with as fast as possible and go back to her." I whispered, feeling my eyes tear up.

30 minutes after Charles left a doctor came to check-up on me, giving me the all clear to leave the medical centre.

"Andrea left some clothes of Charles here for you to put on." Dad said, handing me a hoodie, sweat pants, tennis socks and a pair of beach slippers.

"Stylish." I laughed a little as the nurse pulled the catheter out of my arm, putting a big bandaid on. She then closed the curtains around my bed and dad left to get me something to drink.

"Here." he came back, handing me a bottle of water, while I was trying to put on the socks "Let me help you, you’re still a little dazed from the sedation." he pushed me back into the pillows.

"Yeah…" I mumbled, taking a large sip of water.

"The nurse will bring you something that helps against the headache you’ll maybe get from the sedation and then we can leave." Dad patted my leg and I nodded.

"Lizzie? Are you in here?" Felix’ voice from behind the curtain made me look up and Dad pulled the curtains back "Oh thank god." he carefully hugged me.

"I’m okay. Sorry for ruining the race." I whispered and he pulled away, looking at me sternly.

"You’re not apologising for that, you hear me?" he said with a firm voice and I nodded.

"How did Valtteri do?"

"P8."

"Okay…"

"In here." a man said and we watched how 2 security guards walked in, looking around, they went to the other bed where the curtain was drawn close and looked at the nurse.

"We have no other patients here tonight. It must be empty." she said and one of the security guards ripped the curtains open, revealing an empty bed. They spoke in Spanish into a radio and I looked at Dad and Felix, right as one of the guys came to my bed.

"Did you see anyone coming in or leaving that bed?" he asked and I shook my head, Dad as well "Okay. Thank you. Good night." they left.

"What was that about?" I asked and Dad shrugged his shoulders.

"Lizzie, I have to tell you something." Felix began and the tone of his voice gave me a bad feeling in my stomach.

"Okay?" I almost whispered and he sighed, running his hand down his face.

"Someone was in here… that’s why the security guards were here…" he began and I was confused.

"What do you mean? Someone was in here?" I asked and Dad held my hand.

"Someone filmed you. You and Charles. When you woke up and saw him… they filmed the whole conversation… then sent the video to various gossip and fan accounts…" Felix said and my head fogged up.

"What do you mean filmed them? What did they film?" Dad squeezed my hand.

"Juergen they all know now about Lizzie and Charles. The secret is out." Felix said apologetically and I felt the bile raise up my throat.

"Bucket." I breathed out and Dad reacted immediately, grabbing the rubbish bin and holding it under my head. I threw up. My throat burning with the bitter taste.

"Here." Dad handed me a towel and I wiped my mouth, then rinsed it out with some water.

"I want to see it." I said and Dad looked up.

"You don’t ha-…"

"I want to see it." I repeated and Felix handed me his phone. I watched the clip, a weird numbness washing over me.

"That’s what I call 4K ultra high definition." I stated and Dad and Felix snapped their heads up.

"What?"

"The quality of the video? Clearer than my eyesight." I chuckled dryly.

"The FIA and F1 are already on it. They will find out who took the video." Felix stated and I sighed.

"Won’t change the fact that it’s out there."

"Maybe not, but at least it will grant some justice."

"I don’t care about justice at all." I was tired, exhausted "Can we just leave? I want to take one of those nice pills and snuggle up in my bed."

"Yeah… I get the nurse." Dad left right as Felix phone rang and he stepped away, taking the call. He was tense and sounded angry. When he hung up he groaned.

"What’s going on?" I asked and Dad looked at me and then at Felix when he came back.

"Lizzie… umm you and I… we are- we are summoned by the FIA for an emergency meeting." he said and Dad cursed loudly.

"Of course." I laughed.

"Not gonna happen. I’ll take my daughter and bring her back to her hotel where she will rest and then tomorrow in the morning she can go to them!" Dad was furious.

"You mean later on? It’s already tomorrow!" I pointed at the clock and he groaned "It’s okay, Dad. I want this to be over. Let’s go, Felix." I got out of the bed and slipped into the slippers.

"No! It’s not okay, Lizzie!" Dad held my arm and looked at Felix "First they zoom in on her when she broke down, now here’s not enough security to protect her from prying eyes? And now an emergency meeting at half past 12? In the middle of the night?"

"Dad! You go back to the hotel. You look a little… well you don’t look so good yourself. I’m fine. I listen to whatever they have to say and then I’m on my way back to you, okay? You can check in on Charles, how he’s doing, please?" I pleaded and he sighed.

"I don’t like this. Not at all." he said.

"Me neither. Lizzie we don’t have to go. I don’t care what they will do. I want you to be okay." Felix said but I shook my head.

"It’s fine, really."

"It’s not. Not at all." he sounded mad.

"We go. It’s okay." I got up and Dad hugged me reluctantly.

"Take care of her!" he looked at Felix who only nodded.

"I will!" he held my arm when he saw me swaying "Come on. Let’s get this over with."

"Is it really necessary to do this tonight?" Felix whispered.

"We understand that this is not the best timing…" the FIA official began but Felix scoffed.

"Not the best timing? She’s been in the medical centre half an hour ago! She had to be sedated! She couldn’t breathe! She had a fucking break down! This isn’t just not the best timing! It’s the fucking worst timing ever!"

"Mr. Bayer, like I said, we understand you. But what happened today needs to be taken serious! This is an urgent matter!" the official said and Felix groaned frustrated.

"It’s okay Felix. I can handle it…" I said quietly and he looked at me, then crouched down in front of me.

"Are you sure, little one? If you’re not ready, we leave! I don’t care what they say…" he said and I smiled a little but nodded "Okay? But we make it quick!" the last part was for the FIA official and he nodded.

"Please come in." he said and I got up, Felix putting his hand around my middle to help me walk straight.

I felt the exhaustion of the day seep into my bones with every step that I made. I was still groggy from the sedation. My head was beginning to throb and I was tired. So freaking tired. But I wanted this to be talked through and then be over. Done. Felix gently pushed me down on a chair and handed me a glass of water. Just then I felt how dry my mouth was and I drank a few sips. My throat was burning. I could barely keep my eyes open, but tried my best to focus on the group in front of me. FIA president Mohammed Ben Sulayem, F1 CEO Stefano Domenicali and race director Niels Wittich. I didn’t know the woman and the other man.

"Mr. Bayer, Miss Doetterer, my name is Natalie Robyn, I am the CEO of the FIA, with me tonight is our president Mohammed Ben Sulayem, our head of PR Luke Skipper, Formula 1 CEO Stefano Domenicali and race director Niels Wittich." a middle aged woman introduced herself and then pointed at the man along her, as she introduced them "First of all, we as the FIA and Formula 1, want to apologise to you, Lizzie. Today your privacy was invaded massively. First by one of the camera operators and then later on in the medical centre, where we apparently didn’t provide enough security to ensure your safety."

"We will find out who filmed the video and the person will be held accountable for their doing." Domenicali said and I nodded, not even listen properly.

"Alright. You could’ve said that to us in a mail or something. If that’s all, I would like to take my driver now back to her hotel." Felix sounded mad.

"Actually, that’s not all." Wittich said and I looked up "Now that we know about this romantic relationship between two drivers on the grid, you understand that we need to have a closer look at all the race results."

My jaw dropped. What did he imply?

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice hoarse, throat straining.

"Like there have been concerns in the past about the connections between RedBull and AlphaTauri, regarding working together on the track, we have to look into the past races now as well, evaluating if there was any form of cooperation between you and Charles on track." Wittich said and Felix slammed his hand on the table.

"You summoned us here, saying it was about how Lizzie’s privacy was invaded, massively, twice yesterday! And now you’re telling me this is what? A hearing? Evaluating all the races of this season? We’re done here. My driver needs rest. We’re leaving." he got up and looked at me, but I knew that leaving now would only mean that we would get penalised so I grabbed Felix arm and pulled him down.

"No. We’re staying." I said and he gritted his teeth.

"I’m going to call our team lawyer. If you want to do this, then only with our legal advisor present." Felix got up again, leaving the room.

"We have to do this in order to protect you and Charles from scrutiny of the media, stating that you might have helped each other on track." Domenicali said and I scoffed.

"Yeah. Sure." I only said, taking another sip from my water, right as Felix returned.

"He’ll be here in 10 minutes. Until then we won’t say anything." he said and leaned back in the chair, staring at the group of people in front of us with utter disdain "I called your dad and explained him everything." he looked at me and I nodded.

When the door opened a couple of minutes later Harald walked in, slightly out of breath. He smiled at me and sat down on my other side. He took his phone and a text book out and opened a voice recording app on his phone.

"I called Mattia, he expects a full transcript of what is said in here." he didn’t even spared them a glance "For our own safety and yours as well I will record this hearing. Does anyone have a problem with that?" they all mumbled their consent and Harald looked at me, smiling encouragingly, then he looked at the group in front of us and put his game face on "Charles Leclerc and Lizzie Doetterer only started dating after Miami. Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Melbourne and Miami therefore don’t need new evaluating. Since Charles’ DNFd in Barcelona and Baku due to an engine failure, which couldn’t be anticipated beforehand and Lizzie had to retire in Zandvoort in lap 2. These 3 races can be crossed off the list as well. Remaining races Imola, Monaco, Canada, Silverstone, Austria, France… well I guess we can cross France as well off of our list. What was next? Ahh yes. Hungary, Spa, Monza, Singapore, Japan, although I’m not so sure you want us to reevaluate that one, do you now? So no Japan, but Austin and well Mexico… I guess we don’t need to talk about that either. Ten races left, correct?"

"Correct." Mrs. Robyn said and Harald nodded.

"Alright. Then let’s go." he patted my arm and I took a deep breath.

Going over ten races, with a sleep deprived, cloudy brain. Why not.

Charles POV:

I was pacing back and forth when the effect of the painkillers began to wear off and breathing got more painful again I waited for Lizzie to return. I was furious. How could they drag her into a hearing after what happened? My phone vibrated and without looking I accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"The hearing is officially over. She’s on her way back now." Mia said and I sighed in relief.

"What was the hearing exactly about?"

"They talked over the past races. Looking for a possible cooperation between you and Lizzie on track."

"What?" I almost screamed.

"Charles…" Mia began.

"Are you fucking kidding me? They think that what? Lizzie and I helped each other on track?" I was seething.

"They said it’s a precaution to protect you in case any other team would imply that…"

"I can’t believe it. Waste of time."

"Actually…"

"What?" my stomach dropped.

"They had a closer look at Imola, Monaco and Silverstone. Monaco in particular."

"Why?"

"Apparently some things didn’t fit together in the official report on what has happened."

"What does that mean?"

"The race in Monaco is officially under investigation."

"What, they think that Lizzie and I cheated?"

"There are indications…"

I heard the hotel door unlock and flinched.

"Thanks, Mia. See you later." I hung up and waited for Lizzie, watched how she walked in. Pale skin, with big, dark circles under her eyes. Head hung low. Hair disheveled. She looked up at me, the exhaustion evident on her face. Lizzie explained to me what happened in Monaco. She said she didn’t let me win. She didn’t do it. She didn’t cheat. Right?

"Did you cheat? Be honest. We promised us to always be honest. Remember?" I blurted out and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"I-I… what? I umm I’ve…" she was stammering but the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

"Why? Why would you do that Lizzie? You told me you didn’t let me win! You told me what has happened! What if the FIA doesn’t believe your story anymore? They officially investigate now Monaco!" I was fuming.

"You didn’t even let me finish! I don’t know, okay? I felt that loose part at my leg, had the feeling after a while when that part was gone that I couldn’t push the throttle through? And then when I heard that Ferrari fucked up your race again? I was furious and all that adrenaline? I don’t know, okay? I don’t know if I stopped pushing the throttle on purpose or if it was really because of that carbon part! When they investigated it, Audi and the FIA, they both agreed that the part slipped under the throttle and blocked it. Why wouldn’t they believe it anymore?" she said, her voice strained and hoarse.

"Because they just dragged you into a meeting under the false pretence of it being about how someone clearly overstepped your privacy yesterday, twice! And then it turned out to be a hearing about us. Without me. You alone! I couldn’t even protect you!" I shouted, letting the anger I harboured towards the FIA out on Lizzie.

"How was I supposed to know that they would ask me about us? I didn’t do anything wrong! They listened to my team radio, checked the data, my interviews, the investigation of Audi! And they decided that what happened was that this carbon part was stuck under my throttle and I couldn’t push it through fully. End of story. Period. The FIA gave us the all clear! They can’t just revoke that because they now think I was a what? A lovesick girl who wanted to let her boyfriend win his home race? Instead of winning her first ever Formula 1 race?" she was furious, but I also saw fear in her eyes, tiredness, the exhaustion. But above all I could almost sense her growing anxiety "I didn’t want this to happen! It happened! I can’t change it now! And I can’t change that the FIA decided to have this hearing tonight! You think I wanted to go there? Sitting there, unable to breathe properly? Sitting there being judged? Sitting there explaining them every decision I made in a race since the beginning of the season? No, Charles, believe it or not, I didn’t want all of that! But I can’t change it, okay? And I’m sorry for making you this angry! But I- I don’t…" her voice gave in. She started trembling and I saw the tears in her eyes. I felt bad. I shouldn’t yell at her. It wasn’t her fault. I was just so frustrated, felt helpless that I couldn’t be by her side and protect her. As I stepped closer she let out a mournful cry and I felt even worse.

"I’m sorry, mon amour. I shouldn’t let my anger out on you! This isn’t your fault, Lizzie! It’s the FIA. I’m furious because of them! They overstepped a boundary yesterday with filming your break down and then they didn’t even protect you in the medical center, let someone get in there and film us. None of that was your fault! I know that, okay? I’m an asshole. Please, cara mia, look at me." I pleaded and gently took her hands in mine as she looked up slowly "I’m sorry! I really am! I’m just… I’m so frustrated! I laid in that stupid hospital room, while you had to sit in a hearing for over four hours, after you just broke down! And I couldn’t do anything against it! But none of that was your fault, Lizzie. I know that, okay? I’m just… god I hate myself for reacting like this! I’m so sorry! I should’ve never let my emotions get the better of me! I’m sorry, mon amour, so so sorry!" I gently pulled her into me and she sobbed quietly.

"Everyone will know it now…" Lizzie whispered after a while and I nodded slightly "I’m scared. What if they’re right and people will start talking shit about us? What if they really think that we help each other out on track? They all hate me already, I don’t want the public to hate you too."

"Hey! Look at me! I don’t give a fuck what the public thinks about me, if they hate me. That doesn’t matter to me, cara mia. You matter! You and I! I love you and now the world knows it and that’s okay. I don’t care what will be said about us, it doesn’t change anything, okay? It’s okay, we get through this together. Like always, right? You and me!" I whispered and she nodded "Hey! You have to finish it!"

"Against the world." she chuckled quietly.

"Exactly! You and me against the world. And now come on. Hot bath, something to eat and then let’s go to bed!" I said and she only nodded, when I lead her to the bathroom.

"She’s still asleep." I whispered when Juergen walked in and I closed the door quietly.

"How are you?" he asked and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Better. I’m just glad that my ribs aren’t broken, only heavily bruised, apparently. Slight whiplash, no concussion. Some minor bruises. Nothing bad."

"That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay. Or almost okay." Juergen said and turned a little, looking over at Lizzie "How is she?"

"Exhausted. Scared. Worried." I sighed.

"I can’t believe the FIA would seriously think that you would help each other on track. And I definitely can’t believe that they would discuss this matter in the middle of the night and seriously go over every single race." he was seething and I felt the same.

"She sat there alone, had to listen to that bullshit while I was napping away at the hospital." I whispered but Juergen shook his head.

"Don’t you dare blaming yourself, Charles. It’s the FIA. They made this decision. They could’ve waited until the morning to let you guys rest."

"That’s the thing. I should’ve been there too. It’s not just Lizzie in this relationship. Why didn’t they want to talk to me? They could’ve summoned me for when I was out of the hospital? But they didn’t. I got away with it? Why?" I really didn’t understand why they weren’t questioning me.

"They probably thought because I’m a girl, I would break easier under the pressure…" Lizzie’s sleepy voice made me flinch and Juergen and I turned around. She sat in bed, still pale and with big, dark circles under her eyes.

"How are you?" Juergen asked.

"Like a truck rolled over me. Twice." she shrugged her shoulders and slowly got up, before she disappeared in the bathroom.

"I’ll order some food. When she came back she was too tired to eat." I picked up the phone and called for room service.

"I talked to Felix. Because of Monaco. He said you guys shouldn’t worry. There was an official investigation and the FIA accepted it. They can’t change their mind now just because you were a couple at that time." Juergen looked at me and I sighed.

"It’s the FIA. They can do whatever they want."

"They still need a reason other than that."

"I hope you’re right." I mumbled when Lizzie walked out and plopped down next to me "I ordered some food."

"Perfect, I’m starving." she yawned and leaned back into the pillows "Have you checked social media yet?" she fiddled with a loose thread of her sweater, or rather my sweater, not looking up.

"Nope and I honestly don’t plan on it any time soon. We’re eating now. Then we get ready and leave." I said and she looked up.

"Leave where to?" she asked.

"The next race is in 2 weeks, we have now some days off and we already talked to our teams." I explained but she still looked confused "We go to Tulumn for 5 days. Lay low for a bit. Just you and me. No one will know about it."

"Is that really a good idea? Shouldn’t we put out some statements? Will the teams put out a statement? How are we handling this? Will we just like, I don’t know, walk into the paddock next week, hand in hand and it’s all good? People will talk if there’s nothing coming from us?" I could practically feel Lizzie’s nervousness and anxiety radiating from her and I grabbed her shaking hands.

"We do it however we see fit, okay? One step at a time. We eat. We pack. We leave. We can decide if we want our teams to put a statement out, or if we want to do it ourselves. Or if we just post yep we’re dating, we’re happy, that’s all you need to know. It’s all in our hands, okay?" I said and she looked at me.

"Okay." she whispered and I wiped away a stray tear from her cheek.

"It’s going to be okay, cara mia." I kissed her temple when it knocked on the door, Juergen waved me off and opened the door, letting the attendant roll in our food.

"For how many people did you order?" she chuckled a little when she looked over the food cart, I scratched my head.

"Pops, you’re eating with us, I heard, right?" I said and he laughed.

"Sure. You don’t have to ask twice, brunch with my two favourite drivers, can’t say no to that." he closed the door and sat down.

"Will you fly back home? Or fly to Brazil? You could join us?" Lizzie looked at Juergen and he shook his head.

"No, I’m flying back home, there are some things at the karting track that I need to take care of."

"Oh okay? But it’s all good, right?" she asked.

"Of course, Lizzie. It’s just about some decisions regarding colours and placement of the new furniture and stuff like that."

"Okay, but will you be in Brazil?"

"I don’t know yet, we’ll see, okay?" he looked at her and then at me.

"Don’t worry, it will be okay, Lizzie. I’ll be by your side, JK, Andrea and Joris as well! You’ll never be alone. Okay?" I said and she sighed.

"Yeah, you and Netflix… I’m just glad they decided for whatever reason to not be here this weekend! I couldn’t handle that…" she took a bite of her toast and washed it down with some orange juice "Will they now expect that they can film us together? And put it in the episodes? Like not just what they had before of us being more platonic, but us as a couple. Is that even okay for you?"

"Lizzie, it’s out there anyways, so if that means that they’ll show it? So be it." I said and she nodded slowly.

"So be it."

"If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call the reception, my name is Carmen, and I will take care of all your wishes, enjoy your stay here at Papaya Playa!" I thanked her and then followed Lizzie, who already stood on the terrace, looking over the ocean.

"It’s so quiet here."

"It really is." I hugged her from behind, pulling her into me "We have our own private pool, only a couple metres to the ocean and 24 hours room service. We can spent the next 5 days in here without going out once." I kissed her shoulder.

"Sounds perfect." she whispered.

"It is. Now come on, that pool looks like we definitely need to jump in! And I also want to see that red bikini on you." I turned her around and picked her up, carrying her inside.

"You mean that red bikini you insisted on buying?" she laughed and I nodded.

"Yup that one. So come on pretty girl, put it on. I’ll order us some drinks." I replied.

"Okay, but no alcohol! That won’t mix well with your painkillers!" Lizzie mumbled, rummaging through her suitcase "It’s good that we have a private pool. I would never wear that one in public…" I heard her say quietly, more to herself.

I ordered some drinks and snacks before I went back to the bedroom to put on my swim shorts.

"Cara mia? Where are you?"

"In here." she whispered from the bathroom.

"Can I come in?" I gently nudged the door open a crack.

"Yeah." I heard her muffled voice.

"Hey, what’s going on?" I walked inside, feeling a rush go through my body, seeing her in the bikini "Wow. You look… wow." I was at a loss of words "Cara mia? What’s wrong?" one look in her face and I knew that something was wrong, I walked up to her, grabbing her by the waist "What’s going on?"

"I can’t wear that…" she sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks. I looked at her confused "The bikini- it’s… Charles look at my back, the scars, they look disgusting…"

"What are you even talking about?" I cupped her cheeks, wiping away the tears "Cara mia, the scars on your back show what you’ve been through and what you’ve overcome to be here today! I love your scars, they are a part of you. The part that shows how strong you are! And also, I don’t know why you think that they are this bad? They are barely visible? And even if they were, nothing could take away from your beauty." I looked her in the eyes, trying to convince her that my words were the truth, that I meant every word I said "You are beautiful, cara mia, so freaking beautiful, you have no idea. And some barely visible scars on your back won’t change that! You hear me?"

"But… there were people who said that they look awful…" she whispered and tried to look down.

"With people you mean Camille? And her minions?" I asked and she nodded slightly.

"Not just them, also a lot of other people on the internet… there are so many fan accounts of you and Camille, or just Camille… they all said that they look gross and I should cover them…"

"And since when do we care what Camille, her minions or people on the internet say?" I gently tilted her head up again.

"I don’t know, okay? You cared for her words once…" she began and I sighed.

"This will always hang over us… won’t it?" I whispered defeated.

"No! I’m sorry! It’s not like that… it’s just, so many people out there always shipped us like we were the perfect couple, but the moment a picture with you and Camille got out, people began to say that- that she’s way more fitting for you… a beautiful socialite who knows how to behave, who’s classy, elegant and perfect for you. I’m nothing compared to her! And I guess when people began to say that you were always too good for me anyways, that you deserved someone like Camille, that I’m just not good enough for you, I started to believe it… and maybe still do it somehow." she looked down.

"But they got it all wrong, okay? It’s you who is too good for me. It’s you who deserves someone better. And it’s me who isn’t good enough for you!" I pulled her into a tight hug, stroking her back.

"I’m not too good for you." she whispered against my chest.

"You’re way too good for me, cara mia, you always were, but I know it and it’s okay, I’ll try for the rest of my life to make that up to you." I kissed her head "And just so you know, you are a way better person than Camille or I ever will be. Despite everything she said and did, you never not once spoke bad about her, the others told me, you wanted me to be happy and went through so much pain! I didn’t even realise what you were going through because you not once showed it to me!"

"I told you I would’ve done it all over again, to make you happy." she said into the crook of my neck.

"Exactly. That’s what I meant. You are a way better person than her or me." I gently pulled away, to look at her "And now give me that beautiful smile and join me at the pool. Come on."

"Didn’t you forget something?" she chuckled a little and I tilted my head, looking at her "Swim shorts?" she pointed downwards and I laughed.

"Yeah, true."

"I’ll take some photos and wait for you." she walked outside and I sighed a little. I didn’t know that Lizzie felt this insecure. I knew that the public wasn’t treating her nice and fair, not even decent at times, and that she pretended more than once that she doesn’t care although I could clearly see how much it hurt her. But I didn’t know that the comments about us were making her feel this bad, for years. I sighed and put on my swim shorts, then followed her outside, with the clear mission of showing her how much I loved her and that she was the one way too good for me, not reversed.

Right when I walked outside I saw her standing at the edge of the pool, looking over the sunset. I grabbed my phone and took a picture of her, when it knocked on the door. I opened it and found a cart with a huge fruit platter, finger food and pitchers full of cocktails and juices. Rolling it inside and filling up two glasses, I joined Lizzie by the pool.

"Cara mia." she looked up from the pool edge, her legs dangling in the water "Here. Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri."

"Good choice." she smiled, taking her glass.

I sat down next to her, grabbing her by the waist to pull her closer. We sat in silence for a while, nursing on our drinks. Listening to the sound of the waves, crashing down on the shore, birds singing away, the warm breeze on our skin.

"Coming here was a good idea." Lizzie whispered after a while, putting her glass down before she pushed herself off the ledge, water splashing around "Come on in, Leclerc." she dived to the edge of the pool, looking ever the bay, her face glimmered in the last rays of the sun.

I quickly followed her, caging her body to the pool wall, putting my chin down on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I think so too. It’s just us for a while. Even more, us outside, in the open, without worrying that anyone could see us." I kissed the side of her face and she sighed.

"Maybe it was stupid from me, to ask you doing that, keeping us a secret…" she began but I shook my head.

"I understand it. I did it back then and I do it now. I’ve seen what people wrote about you basically all your career. It was the right thing for us. We had to adjust to us as a couple first. Doing that with the whole world watching would’ve been not easy. Like this we could find ourselves, find out how we are as a couple. And to be honest? I like the result, no I love the result." I turned her head a little and kissed her.

"Me too. This. Us. It’s perfect the way it is."

The next days went by in a blur, filled with long mornings spent in bed, lazy days by the pool or beach, romantic nights in the hammock under the stars.

"What are you thinking about?" Charles whispered while we were lying on a lounger, soaking in the sun.

"We’re leaving tomorrow… then it’s back to reality." I leaned back, closing my eyes "I like it here, we’re in our own little bubble. No one knows us, no one cares for us. It’s just you and me. I’ll miss that."

"I know, me too. But it will be fine. We’re in this together, remember? We don’t care what people will say, okay?" he leaned over, looking at me.

"Okay…" I sighed a little and he leaned in closer.

"Sounds like you need a little more convincing." he kissed me, his lips salty from the ocean breeze "Now?"

"All will be good." I chuckled and he kissed my nose, getting up.

"Sounds better, but still not perfect." he pulled me up and laughed "But I have an idea…" he picked me up and ran towards the pool, jumping in.

Cold water cascaded me and when I emerged from the water I was worried.

"Charles! Your ribs! Are you crazy!"

"Crazy in love. Guilty." he pulled me into him.

"I’m serious!" I looked at him and he rolled his eyes.

"I’m fine!"

"Okay…" I whispered, carefully stroking over his bruised ribcage "‘Crazy in love’… you’re so freaking cheesy! I just can’t with you!" I mumbled and playfully hit his chest when Charles laughed.

"Tell me to stop being cheesy and I will!"

"NO! Don’t you dare!" I kissed his cheek "I love it when you’re cheesy!"

"Thought so." he chuckled.

After a while I yawned a little and we got out of the pool and Charles wrapped a towel around me.

"What do you want to eat? It’s our last day, we should have a special dinner for tonight!" he asked while gently rubbing my arms up and down.

"I don’t care, I’m not that hungry, more sleepy." I shrugged my shoulder, Charles kissed my forehead.

"Then lay down for a bit…" he nudged me towards the big sun lounge and I snuggled into the pillows.

When I woke up, Charles wasn’t around and I grabbed my phone, texting a little with family and friends to occupy myself. When I closed the message app my eyes landed on Instagram. I haven’t checked it since Sunday morning. After everything that had happened during and after the race, it was probably for the best. I sighed and put my phone down. It wouldn’t do me any good, looking at what people had to say. I stared ahead, trying to not let my curiosity get the better of me, but I failed. It was like an itch, that needed to be scratched, but the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. I opened Instagram and began the scrolling. Posts from official and unofficial F1 or motorsports account with comment sections flooded with questions, allegations and opinions. Charles’ profile, with a bunch of new comments under the latest posts why he kept silent. Why he didn’t say anything about what happened. Why out of all people he would choose me. I swallowed hard and clicked on my profile. I read comment after comment, I couldn’t stop. It was like I was in trance, I couldn’t stop myself from scrolling.

"Lizzie…" Charles stood behind me, saw my phone and sighed "What are you doing?" he whispered, taking away my phone "Why did you read that?"

"Tomorrow, we’ll leave this bubble… I guess I wanted to be prepared…" my voice thin.

"And? Are you prepared now? Or are you even more worried? Even terrified, from the look on your face…" he sighed and I rubbed my burning eyes.

"Your fans want to know how you are, after your crash…" I got up and walked inside.

"I don’t care. I care for you, stop please." he followed me inside, grabbing my hand "Talk to me? What’s going on in there?" he gently poked at my forehead and I had to chuckle.

"It’s exactly what I expected… how could you choose me…" I mumbled.

"Easy answer. How could I not. The real answer should be, how could you choose me!"

"Charles…"

"No Lizzie. I don’t care what a bunch of idiots write or say. I couldn’t care less. Let them comment under every post their disgusting shit. I. DON’T. CARE." he emphasised every word and cupped my cheeks "Tomorrow, we leave this bubble, yes. But that doesn’t mean that it will burst. I love you. You love me. It’s as easy as that."

"Is it though?" I blinked the tears away.

"In theory? Yes. Practice? No, probably not. But that’s okay. Because it’s you and me. Against the internet trolls. Against the world. Okay?" he smiled at me, his face enlightened by the last rays of sunshine.

"Okay." I whispered and he pulled me in.

"I love you, cara mia. Let’s enjoy our last night here, what do you say?"

"I say that red bikini will make its comeback tonight…" I kissed his cheek.

"Sounds perfect."

After a romantic dinner under the stars and a little relaxation in the hot tub we settled down, cuddled up in towels and blankets, in the hammock.

"Thank you." I whispered, kissing his chest and he looked down.

"For what?"

"That post…" I looked at him and he smiled "You didn’t have to do that."

"But I wanted to. Prepare for cheesy post after post from now on." he chuckled and I kissed him.

"Really? Then I think you deserve a little reward for that…" I got up and Charles looked at me, biting his lips when I fumbled with my bikini top, letting it drop, walking away.

Not even a second later he grabbed me by the waist, spinning me around. His eyes visibly darkened, full of lust and hunger. His lips met mine, feverishly and hastily they clashed together. Charles’ hands were gliding down my sides, my skin melted away under his touch, until they grabbed my thighs and he lifted me up, my legs wrapped around him automatically. His bulge pressed into me and I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling on his hair, he groaned into my mouth. He took the few steps up the terrace and walked us into the bedroom, where he threw me onto the bed and then crawled on top of me. Charles kissed his way up my calves, then my thighs, he looked up, our eyes met for a brief moment before he kissed my clothed core. He hooked his fingers on both sides of the waistband of my bikini bottoms and pulled them down. I lifted my hips a little and a moment later the fabric landed with a soft thud on the floor. Charles continued kissing his way further up my body, nipping at my naval, going up the valley between my breasts, nibbling my collarbone, up the column of my throat over my jaw until our mouths found their way back to each other. He gently bit my bottom lip and I gasped, opening my mouth to let his tongue in, meddling with mine. I hastily began pushing his swim shorts down and he helped me, getting rid of them. I chased his mouth again and spread my legs, grabbing his butt, pulling him in.

"My my, look who’s impatient again." Charles chuckled while pulling away. He cupped my heat with his hand and I sighed, body squirming "Oh pretty girl, you’re so needy."

"Charles, stop teasing…" I whined.

"Hmm? Why?" he pressed down on my bundle of nerves and I moaned loudly.

"Charles, please…" I pouted and he groaned, pushing into me in one swift move.

"That damn pout." he sighed, kissing me.

"Works every time."

Chapter 28 - why drama, when you can have trauma 😬😅 soooorry! But hey, the cat’s out the bag! And our two lovebirds have some fluffy days…woop woop 🙌

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@silkenthusiasts @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @itsjustkhaos @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @glitterf1 @janeholt3 @maeve-wileyy @18754389 @chiliwhore @hellowgoodbye @queensassybitchsworld @harrysdimple05 @skynel09

All the images I’m using are from Google, Pinterest and Instagram (or self made).

[lorilane33]

Best Friends

A/N: OH MY GODS HI GUYS!! I am indeed still alive. So it’s been a minute. Or five. Or... closer to three years lol anyway. @jobean12-blog @beccaanne814 and @musings-of-a-rose here this lovely thing is. :) I’m so nervous to be posting again, especially for a fandom like The Last of Us. But, Tommy Miller has give me brain rot, so here we are. I’m going to stop rambling now, so please be nice lol

Summary: A day in the park with your bestie Tommy takes an interesting turn. 

Word Count: 1,369

Warnings: Not a single one. Other than Tommy Miller himself because that man’s southern charm KILLS MEEEEEE. dead. so dead.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Tommy has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. The two of you are thick as thieves, spending all your free time together and the two of you usually end up escaping the world for a while.  

On this particular afternoon the two of you are at a park Tommy had come by on one of his runs earlier in the week. He had insisted he show it to you the next time you two hung out, and that you would love it. The two of you are currently laying in the grass, watching the clouds go by and just catching up with each other.

You roll your eyes and continue your rambling about a coworker who’s been frustrating you at work. “… she’s just really been pissing me off recently, Tommy! It’s like she’s trying to get herself fired at this point, but the administration hasn’t done anything to get rid of her. It’s a never ending cycle at this point.” You finish with a huff, crossing your arms in frustration. 

Tommy, who is normally ready with advice or another appropriate response to whatever it is you’re talking about, is far quieter than usual after one of your rants. In fact he’s not really acknowledging that you’d been talking at all. 

Curious as to what has been holding his attention,  you turn toward him and joke, “Tommy, are you even paying atten-” only to find his dark chocolate brown eyes already gazing at you intently. His lips are split into a grin, just wide enough to bring his dimples and laugh lines out of hiding.  Giggling, you reach up and poke a finger into his left cheek. “Hey, Tommy. You okay over there?” 

Chuffing softly, Tommy blinks and playfully pulls away from you, and looks away. Suddenly he seems nervous, and he gives you a quick fake smile to placate your curiosity. “Yeah, everything is great. Why wouldn’t it be?” 

As he turns away from you, the sun catches in his hair and you think to yourself, ‘My god, he looks so handsome right now.’ Immediately you scold yourself for thinking such thoughts about Tommy, the guy who’s supposed to be your best friend. 

Glancing at him briefly to make sure he hasn’t looked back at  you yet, you let your eyes roam over his features. The sun is doing wonders for his freckles, contrasting beautifully with his bronzed skin. Realizing just how handsome your best friend, your fingers itch to run through those dark curls of his and mess them up. 

Furrowing your brow, you suddenly feel a tension between the two of you you’ve never felt before. Hoping to rid the situation of the newfound weirdness you let yourself gently grab his chin and turn his face back around to you. When he finally makes eye contact with you again, you ask him more gently, “Tommy, are you sure everything’s okay? You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

He swallows hard enough you hear it, and you see him building up the courage to tell you whatever it is that’s on his mind. Finally he exhales, seeming to have found the courage  he was looking for. Smiling his cheeky Tommy Miller smile at you, he answers,` “it’s nothin’, darlin’, I promise. It’s just… I mean… you’re so beautiful when you’re angry. I couldn’t help but stare.” 

 As he finishes, he slowly brings his hand up and gently begins to run the backs of his knuckles against your cheek. Your cheeks warm under his attention, and you gasp as you feel his hand make contact and your eyes flutter at the sensation; his touch is completely familiar and completely new to you at the same time. “Tommy. What are you do-“ 

“If you stop me now, I won’t be able to finish, sweetheart. Please, lemme finish this.”  Your jaw drops a little as he cuts you off, and you try to wrap your mind around what he’s saying. Tommy notices, smirks, and quickly picks up where he left off. “We’ve been friends for so long, and I wouldn’t be close to where I am now if it weren’t for you.” 

He gently turns his hand that’s caressing your cheekbone to cup your face with it. Tears prickle in your eyes as you lean into the contact. He chuckles continuing, “I don’t even know when I realized the love I have for you went deeper than a platonic friendship, but now that I have I can’t imagine not telling you. You have the kindest, most beautiful soul I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, sweet girl. The way you go out of your way to be kind to everyone even when you’ve had a rough day never ceases to amaze me.” 

You realize he’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you bring your own hand up to rest on his, encouraging him to keep going. He doesn’t fail you. “God, I could spend hours counting the various shades in your eyes and never tire of it. Words will never be enough for how much I love you.” A stray tear falls down your cheek, and he lovingly brushes it away as his lips quirk.

“Darlin, are you getting emotional on me? I can’t quite tell if this is good crying or the type of crying you do before you let me down easy. Please, just let me go lick my wounds in pea-“ 

“Tommy!” You say with a grin. Shaking your head at his shenanigans, you continue. “You.. are so dumb. I love you too, and I can’t wait to kiss you.” Before he can make some sassy rebuttal, you close the distance between the two of you and gently press your lips to his.

The moment your lips touch, a feeling of being home takes over the two of you. Tommy brings his other hand up to cup your face in both his hands completely. You drop your hand to his chest, lightly gripping his shirt in your hand. Gentle pecks and whispered words of love between new lovers eventually become more urgent.

One of his hands drops to your waist, pulling you closer into his embrace. You feel his tongue gently swipe across your bottom lip, asking permission and you moan in response. 

Suddenly Tommy’s invading your mouth, making you question why you’d ever waited this long to be with him. When you decide to nibble his bottom lip, he groans in response, his hand on your waist dropping to your ass, firmly gripping it and pressing you even harder into him. The two of you continue kissing as Tommy leans up on an elbow and just enough over you to take charge of the kiss.

After a few more minutes, Tommy reluctantly pulls away from you, breathing tearing in and out of both your chests as he does. You look at him in confusion, wondering why he’s decided to stop. “Why’d you stop, Tommy? Things are just getting good,” you wink at him and graze your hand down his toned chest towards his belt buckle. 

Before you venture too far south his hand reaches up to stop you. The smile he gives you in return reminds you just how breathtakingly handsome he is, and you lean in to place another kiss on his lips, but he reaches out and stops you. 

Instead, he brings your forehead down and places a gentle kiss there. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to remember this moment forever. If I don’t stop kissing you now, I won’t have the strength to stop.” 

“And that’s a problem, big boy?” You pull away to look up at his lips, smiling lazily at him in response. He groans once more before answering you.

“Absolutely, honey. Now. Mama raised Joel and I to be gentlemen, and she’d skin me alive if I even thought about taking you for the first time out in broad daylight.” He says with conviction.  “If we’re going to do this, we’re going back to my place where I can take you apart the way I want to.” His eyes gleam with mischief as he looks at you. “So. What do you say?” 

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Silly Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 5,818

Summary: Steve and Eddie are drawn to one another like moths to flames, but they always push each other away. But, no matter what either of them does they always seem to end up back in the same place. 

Inspired by Silly Me by WSTR.

"I try to brush it off, but silly me I'm at it again. I need to call it quits before I lose a friend. I feel so wrong now, have for so long now."

Content Warning: This is an angsty fic that does not have a happy ending. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. 

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steddie Masterlist

~~~~

The bed felt too big around Steve. The room, too dark. Too empty. It had been hours since he turned off the small TV in his living room and trudged his way into his bedroom. But he was still wide awake, tired eyes looking for shapes in the popcorn texture of his ceiling like they were clouds over a field. 

The angry red numbers on the nightstand alarm clock read 1:12. He's still awake, Steve thought. 1 am is early in Eddie's world. He'd answer if Steve called. He always answered when Steve called. 

Steve wanted to call. He wanted to hear his familiar voice on the other line. What he really wanted, if he was honest with himself, was to have him tucked into bed with him. His head on Steve's chest, arms around each other. But he knew that wasn't an option. 

His fingers ached beneath his blue comforter. They wanted to pick up the phone. They wanted to dial the seven digits that were written in bold sharpie on a post it note next to the phone, even though Steve had memorized them. 219-6215. 

He rolled over in the too big bed. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything that wasn't Eddie Munson. He failed. Of course he did, he always did. No matter what, his mind always drifted back to the long haired man with the soft eyes and dimpled smile. 

It wasn't long before he decided that it was pointless. Trying to push him away from his thoughts was like trying not to breathe. Eddie had been firmly planted in Steve's mind since the day Dustin introduced them. 

"Just give him a chance," the younger boy begged over the counter of the Family Video. "You don't have to love him, but it would be nice if my two best friends at least didn't hate each other." 

That was over a year ago. And Steve still laid awake in bed most nights thinking about the boy he wasn't supposed to want. He knew that tonight, not unlike most nights, he would give in and pick up the phone. 

The whiskey burned as he swallowed. The first one always burned a little. Steve gritted his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath to offset the burn of the dark alcohol. It didn't work. But it was habit at this point to try. 

Two more shots and Steve was picking up the phone. He barely even thought about the sequence of digits as his thumb expertly dialed. He closed his eyes, his chin falling to his chest as the phone rang in his ear. 

Once. 

Twice. 

"Hello?" He answered in the middle of the third ring. Steve hoped he would sound tired so that he would have a reason to hang up. But he wasn't. Of course he wasn't. It was barely 2 am. 

"Hi," Steve sighed. 

"Harrington," the way his last name sounded on Eddie's lips was something close to magical. The obvious smile in his voice had Steve grinning into the phone. He was almost ashamed at the way his shoulders immediately dropped at the sound of his voice. All of the tension he'd carried with him all day suddenly melting away with two words. 

He wished he didn't have to be drunk to talk to him. He wished he could pull out the Harrington charm like he used to when he was younger. He wished it would work, even if he could. 

"What're ya upto?" Steve asked, trying to hide both his smile and the slight slur the alcohol lent to his speech. 

"Was thinkin' I might mess around on my guitar a bit," Eddie sighed. Steve heard shuffling in the background. Like papers moving against each other. He heard a small grunt from Eddie. He imagined him sitting on the small counter next to the phone in his kitchen. "But now I'm talkin' to you." 

"Want me to letcha go?" He wasn't sure which answer he wanted. 

"Nah," Eddie answered flippantly. "She'll be there later. Or tomorrow. Not like I was gonna write the next Holy Diver or anything." 

Steve giggled into the phone. He felt indescribably silly. He imagined how Eddie might have reacted to the sound on his own end of the phone. Did he roll his eyes? Did it make him smile? He resigned himself to not knowing and moved on, pouring another shot. 

"Never know, Eddie," he told him as he downed his fourth drink of the night. 

"Guess you're right," he answered. "Promise I'll still answer the phone at 2 am when I'm a big ol' rockstar someday." 

"Oh, really?"

"'Course," Eddie said. "Gonna need to keep friends like you around. Make sure I don't go crazy." He laughed at the end. A single chuckle, a forced breath through smiling lips. 

Friends like you.

Steve wanted to laugh along with him. He wanted to joke about Eddie's future as a world famous rock star. But the laugh died in his throat. He croaked out a pained, pitiful whine that echoed in his chest. He pulled the phone away from himself, hoping the distance would hide the sound. 

He was Eddie's friend. He would always be Eddie's friend. Nothing deeper. Nothing more than drunken phone calls in the middle of the night. Steve took another shot to silence the repetition of Eddie's words in his head. The alcohol burned less than the truth. So, he poured another. 

~~~~~

Eddie had expected a call tonight. He got a call most nights, after all. But when 2 am rolled around and the beige plastic that hung on the kitchen wall stayed silent, he figured it wouldn't happen. When 3 am came and went, he knew. There was a part of him, a nagging sort of uncomfort in his chest, that was disappointed.

Once the alarm clock beside the bed ticked over to 3:30 he gave up waiting. It was early, but he retired to bed anyway. He stripped off his jeans, adding them to join his shirt from earlier on top of a growing pile of discarded laundry near his bedroom door. The pile being near the door was supposed to mean it got washed more often. But as it grew to reach his mid thighs it was obvious that wasn't the case. 

His bed was unmade, sheets disheveled and shoved towards the side of the bed that was pressed to the wall. The old mattress groaned beneath his weight as he fell into it. He grabbed at the sheets, throwing one over himself. The thin cotton was cold against his bare skin. A days worth of neglect lending a bit of a chill to it.

He balled the excess material in his hands and clutched it to his chest. He crossed his arms over the makeshift bundle of fabric as he closed his eyes tightly. Everything in him wanted to sleep. Wanted to pass out, clock out from the world for the night. But he couldn't do it. His mind refused to sleep. 

Some might assume that it was his artist's brain at work. A constant stream of chords, words, ideas. Some nights those people would be right. Some nights he did stay awake with the moon scribbling lyrics down on the backs of old envelopes. Some nights he did finally find the perfect chord progressions that he'd been looking for all week. 

But most nights… Most nights he just sat in his bed with his thoughts chewing at his mind like an animal with its leg caught in a trap. There was no escape. There was no getting out of what he'd gotten himself into. And it was slowly killing him. 

All of his songs lately were about the same thing. The same person, really. Everything he's written for the last year was about Steve. Even the songs that weren't explicitly about pining and wanting things you could never have had elements of him laced into them. 

If you asked, he'd tell you that they're all about some girl from high school. Some girl he saw who never saw him. But anyone who paid close enough attention would recognize Steve Harrington amongst his words. 

"She has the prettiest eyes" he'd say with a dreamy smile. "That kind where they're brown, but then kinda green sometimes. Ya know? And this long hair that's, like, I dunno, it's just really pretty."

It was  annoying, more than anything. When they'd gone to school together he barely knew Steve existed. They ran in different circles, only ever in the same space at the same time when Eddie would make some easy money at the rich kids parties. But now? Now Steve lived in his head. His smile on a permanent rotation through his thoughts. 

He silently cursed Dustin Henderson as his eyes opened to the dark room. The younger boy had urged them to meet, downright insisting that they could be friends. 

"He's not as bad as he was when you were in school," Henderson had said with an eye roll that almost made Eddie laugh. "He's actually really cool once you get to know him." He had been reluctant, telling Dustin that he would wait for the official class reunion. 

But now, a year later, he spent his nights alone hoping Steve would call. Knowing that he'd answer and that they'd talk for hours. Eddie knew better than to ask why he was calling. After the third or fourth middle of the night call, he learned that Steve never had a reason. He just wanted to talk. And Eddie was more than happy to oblige. Phone calls from Steve were one of the only things Eddie had to break up the monotony of life after 8 pm in Hawkins. Plus, and he'd deny it if you asked, he liked talking to Steve. 

Suddenly the familiar ring sounded from the kitchen. He was almost afraid of how quickly he was out of bed and across the room, on his way to answer before Steve hung up. 

"Hello?" 

"Eddie!" Steve yelled in his ear so loudly that he had to pull the phone away from his face. 

"Harrington?" He questioned, though he knew nobody else would call him at almost 4 in the morning. 

"Eddie, hi!" He slurred his name and Eddie's heart sank. He was drunk. He was always drunk. "Are you awake?" 

"Wouldn't be talkin' to ya if I was sleeping, Steve." He answered. The giggle that came through the phone was adorable, and that was not a word Eddie Munson used often. 

"They're kickin' m'out," Steve all but whined. 

"Who?" 

He heard Steve asking someone their name before he answered, "Denny." 

Eddie knew Denny. Of course he knew Denny. He'd been tending bar at grimy little dives around Hawkins since before Eddie was born. For the past few years he'd been working at a place not far from his house, Rooster's. It was a stupid name for a bar, but the drinks were cheap and it was walking distance when Eddie had a few too many. He knew the place well. 

"Tell him I'm on my way." 

A few minutes later Eddie was pulling open the front door of Rooster's. It was eerily quiet without the music that usually played from the jukebox. He found Steve easily, being that he was the only person slumped over the bar half asleep. 

"Get him home, kid." Denny instructed as he placed Steve's arm around his own shoulder, holding his wrist tightly. Eddie nodded, grunting just a little as he lifted Steve's dead weight from the bar stool.  

"Come on, big guy," he told Steve as he wrapped his arm around his waist. "You're gonna have to walk for me, yeah? Can't carry ya." 

Steve smiled, his eyes glassy as the lids drooped sleepily. "Can too," he said. "Got these big, strong arms." He punctuated his statement by dropping his arm from around his shoulder, his hand landing on Eddie's bicep. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't flex under the sleeve of his shirt. 

The walk back to Eddie's house was slow. They had to stop every few steps so that Steve could regain his footing. Eddie wished he'd driven, but he didn't realize how drunk Steve actually was. 

Once they were inside the trailer he considered dropping Steve onto the couch to let him sleep off whatever he had been drinking. He decided against that, something in him saying not to leave him alone in this state. He grabbed Steve by his shoulders and did his best to look into his brown, but sometimes kinda green eyes. They were green tonight. 

"Harrington, hey," he said sternly. He brought one hand to Steve's cheek, making him look at him. "Gonna take you back to bed, okay? But you gotta walk behind me, ain't room for both of us down the hallway. Can you do that?" 

Steve nodded, his goofy smile growing higher on his flushed cheeks. The sight twisted Eddie's stomach into knots. He hated how attracted he was to Steve now of all moments. But it wasn't because he was inebriated and vulnerable. It was because he was smiling and Eddie loved nothing more than that smile. 

Eddie turned away from Steve and was able to take half a step away when he felt it. Steve's hands firmly on his hips. His fingers dug into his sides, his thumbs at his back. He was glad Steve couldn't see the bright red heat that spread across his neck and face as he thought that Steve's hands fit kinda perfectly on his body. 

It took a moment for Eddie to compose himself before he was able to continue down the hallway, Steve's hands still on him. Steve kicked the bedroom door closed behind him. Eddie didn't typically sleep with his door closed, but he didn't argue with his friend about it. He turned around to face Steve. His hands trailed across Eddie's back and stomach as he moved, waking up every butterfly that had taken up residence there since the day he met Steve. 

The inner corners of Steve's eyebrows rose on his forehead. His lips pursed into a dramatic pout as his hands tightened on Eddie. "Oh, shit," Eddie hissed, his hands flying to his sides to cover Steve's. "You gonna hurl?" 

"So… fit," Steve finally whined. "Don' ev'n… you don' ev'n try." His palms began to sweat and he was suddenly glad for Steve's complete drunkenness as he pulled his hands away, allowing them to hover at his sides. His dry throat swallowed around nothing as he stared at Steve, who was now unapologetically examining his body. 

"What're you talkin' about?" He asked, his voice embarrassingly unnerved. He waited for an answer. And he kept waiting. He waited while Steve's hands were warm over his cotton t-shirt and it took every ounce of self control hed ever had to retain any sense of composure. 

Steve's eyes trailed up his body, focusing on his stomach long enough to make Eddie's knees buckle. His bloodshot eyes raked over his chest, neck, and face painfully slowly before meeting Eddie's. His eyelids sagged pitifully over his goofy smile. "Pretty," was all he said. One word. Two syllables that really sounded more like one with Steve's drunken slurring. 

"O-okay," Eddie stammered, pulling Steve's hands away from his sides. "You need to sleep this off," he tried to laugh. Tried to think it was funny. But the weight of Steve's hands in his own was closer to excruciating than funny. 

"Take -" Steve started, a hiccup interrupting him briefly. "Take me t' bed, or- or-" another hiccup escaped his lips. "Lose me f'rever." He finished with a triumphant laugh. 

"Oh, so I'm Goose, huh?" Eddie giggled, pushing down whatever feelings he might have been having. He dropped one of Steve's hands as he turned away and started to lead him to his bed.

Steve fell onto Eddie's bed with a loud groan. He couldn't stop the laugh that came from deep in his chest as he watched Steve roll onto his stomach and army crawl towards the wall. He fell asleep quickly, his mouth open against Eddie's pillow. Knowing that he'd drool all over it should have been disgusting to Eddie, but he actually found it to be a weird kind of endearing. 

Eddie stripped down to his boxers once more, adding his clothes back to the pile of laundry he'd lifted them from before. He tried to put as much space between him and Steve as was possible in such a small bed before allowing his eyes to fall closed.

When he woke up a few hours later the sun was starting to shine through the second hand curtains that hung by nails over his bedroom window. Steve had breached the space he tried to give him and was now tucked into Eddie's side, his arms tightly around him and his head resting on Eddie's chest. He knew he should push him away. He should wake him up and take him home. But he couldn't. That couple of hours with Steve was the best sleep he'd gotten in months. So, before he could talk himself out of it, he stretched his arm over Steve's shoulders and fell back into a peaceful, deep sleep. 

~~~~~

The morning after that phone call Steve had woken up in Eddie's bed. He was wrapped around him like a baby monkey clinging to its mother. His arms were circled around his waist, their legs tangled beneath a thin sheet. His heart pounded as he realized that Eddie's own arm was around his shoulders, holding him to his chest. 

He knew that it meant nothing. Eddie had instinctively embraced him while he was sleeping. Like he was a beloved childhood stuffed animal. But it was nice either way. To finally have his arms around the man he has yearned for for so long. He knew it was wrong, but he didn't care. He allowed himself more than a few peaceful minutes in his embrace before he sadly pulled himself away. 

Eddie had woken up while Steve was examining himself in the small mirror over the sink in his bathroom. He heard the bed groan beneath Eddie's weight and couldn't help but think of how domestic the moment felt. Just two people who had shared a bed and now had to go about their separate mornings together. 

Steve had denied Eddie's offer to walk him back to Rooster's to retrieve his car. Part of him was embarrassed. A deep rooted shame that he had allowed Eddie to see him so far outside of the facade he put on for everyone. So he took the walk alone. The cold August morning air waking him up as he silently replayed the morning in his mind. 

And so began a sort of fucked up routine for the men. Steve would go to Rooster's, get drunk, and call Eddie. He always told him it was because he lived closest to the bar. He'd never admit that it was because Eddie's was the only phone number he couldn't forget.

Wednesday became his drinking night. He'd leave work and drive to Rooster's ready for a night he might not remember. He didn't work on Thursdays so he could get as plastered as Denny would allow with no consequences. Well, almost no consequences. He'd end up calling Eddie when Denny cut him off, either because he was closing up or because he's had too much. The nights in Eddie's bedroom were somehow both a consequence and a motivation all the same. 

Steve had been a Wednesday night regular at Rooster's for four or five months by now. He knew Denny and Roger by name. The former being the man who poured his drinks, the latter an old bar fly that would match Steve drink for drink though he never seemed to feel the alcohol's effects. He looked down into his drink, foam swirling around the top. He wondered if he'd be like Roger some day. 

"Harrington?" A familiar voice beside him interrupted his thoughts as a hand clapped heavily on his shoulder. "Who'da thunk you'd be here," Eddie smiled at him as he sat down to occupy the empty barstool next to him. 

Steve felt his lips curl into a smile, the muscles completely outside of his control. He focused his eyes back on his drink as Eddie slipped his arms out of his leather jacket, setting it on the barstool to his other side. 

"What'cha drinkin'?" Eddie asked him. 

"Miller."

Steve's smile twitched as he watched Eddie in the corner of his eye. He lifted a hand, catching Denny's attention before pointing to Steve's drink, then back to himself with a nod. Steve had never seen Eddie drink Miller before. To be fair, he hadn't ever really seen him drink much of anything. 

Denny sat the beer in front of Eddie. He brought the glass to his lips, quickly draining half of it. His lips contorted into a grimace as he swallowed. 

"Man," he sighed, an exaggerated shiver shaking his shoulders. "How do you drink this shit?" 

Steve shrugged, his thumb tapping against his own glass in front of him. "Something to do," he answered quietly. Something to do while I think about you. Would have been a more accurate answer. But he couldn't say that. 

"There are better ways to kill your brain cells," Eddie giggled. He nudged his elbow into Steve's. The brief moment of contact sent electricity through his body, goosebumps appearing just above where their skin had met.

"Like what?" Steve asked, turning to face him. 

"Pot," Eddie answered plainly. "One of these nights I'll get ya stoned off your ass. Show ya how much better it is than this… piss water." 

"How about tonight?" 

"You, my fine feathered friend, are already three sheets to the wind," Eddie told him. And maybe he was right. 

As Steve walked back to Eddie's house, he was not as drunk as he usually was on the nights he'd end up here. He'd more or less stopped drinking when Eddie showed up, nursing a single beer for over an hour. It was kind of nice to be with Eddie without needing to be completely black out drunk to make it happen. He wondered how many more Wednesday nights Eddie would allow. How much longer would he continue to pick up the broken pieces of Steve that he didn't even know he'd been the one to break?

"Want me to sleep out here?" He asked as Eddie closed and locked the front door. 

"Can if ya want, but that couch sucks." 

Steve watched Eddie's back as he slouched out of his jacket. The old leather looked soft as he hung it over a hook beside the door. The muscles of his biceps flexed beneath his shirt, the fabric tightening around his back as he lifted his arms. He was beautiful. He wanted to reach out and grab him, hold his perfect body in his hands.

Instead, he watched as he walked down the narrow hallways towards his bedroom. He stopped a few steps from the open door and turned to face Steve. He felt like a puppy who's new owner was trying to teach him his name. C'mere, Steve! Written across his face as he silently raised his eyebrows. Steve followed, forever obedient to a person who would never know just how deeply he owned him. 

The bed was small but it felt so much bigger tonight. The empty sea of blankets between their bodies like the no man's land of a battlefield. Steve pressed his back into the wall and tried to sleep. But the way his heart was beating like a hummingbird's wings, fast and loud and nervous, kept him awake. The knowledge that he could be the one to bridge the gap between them, knowing at the same time that he never would, kept him awake. 

He did not sleep peacefully that night. There was no serene darkness behind his eyelids. He was not comfortable in the bed that for months had been the only safe harbor he could land in. He didn't even have a bad dream that he could blame it on. He couldn't stay asleep long enough to dream. Anytime his eyes would become too heavy to hold open, he'd drift into darkness only to shoot awake soon after. It was more torturous than spending the night alone. 

When the black of the night began to fade to dark blues and purples through the windows, Steve gave up trying. He knew that sleep was not going to happen. Not in this bed. Not tonight. 

He slipped out of the bed as gently as possible. The creaking of the old mattress springs beneath him seemed impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet bedroom. He knew Eddie wasn't fully asleep, his snores still soft and missable if he weren't paying attention. His teeth gritted, his jaw clenched almost painfully as he tried to slink away from Eddie. 

He slid his arms into the sleeves of his blue jacket and opened the front door. The sun was rising on the other side of the house, so he walked through the dewy grass around to the back. It was beautiful. A bright golden sun hidden behind trees in the distance blended into oranges, pinks, and purples. His jacket was far too thin for a December morning, but he didn't care. He almost liked the cold.

The back door opened behind him. He heard footsteps in the grass. A Zippo clicked open, the scratch of the flint followed by the tiny roar of a flame as Eddie came to stand beside him, ashing his cigarette into the wet grass.

"That's really somethin', huh?" 

Steve was silent. No words he knew could fully capture how it felt to stand beside Eddie and watch the sun come up. It was like he was finally getting the comfort he'd so desperately craved just a few minutes ago. 

"Sorry if I woke ya," he finally said. 

"Not your fault the bed is shit. I feel it every time you move." 

Steve's eyes fell closed. His hands flexed at his sides. He hated the way Eddie could always draw him somehow further in without even trying. It felt wrong, to be so infatuated with everything a person does. His eyes stayed closed as his next words played in his mind. Like if he kept them closed, the answer he was expecting wouldn't sting as much. 

"Guess I should stop hogging your bed and waking you up every week, then." It hurt to say. Steve felt his chest tighten. He felt the way his lips closed, twisting uncomfortably as the last word tumbled through them. 

There was a beat. A single moment of earth shattering silence. Steve didn't breathe. He didn't dare do anything before everything inevitably came crashing down around him. 

"Nah," Eddie scoffed. He brought the cigarette to his lips again as Steve student regained the ability to breathe. His heart staggered for a moment, rhythmic beating momentarily interrupted by Eddie's voice. "Doesn't bother me. Plus I'd rather you sleep here than freeze to death because you tried to walk across town and fell in a ditch." 

So those were his options. Steal peace at the expense of the man he loves so desperately that he'd do anything for him. Or die alone in a ditch to avoid him. He couldn't help the smile that curled on his lips. Not at Eddie's attempted joke, but at the accuracy of it. 

They stood outside together until the sun was too high in the sky. It quickly became too bright for comfort. When they walked inside Eddie immediately went to his bedroom. When he came back he had with him a baggie that he shook next to his face. 

"Told ya I'd get ya stoned off your ass, Harrington." The devilish smirk on his face as he placed his rolling tray over his lap had Steve's legs shaking. 

He sat beside him, watching as his fingers expertly rolled the paper around the green buds. The way his tongue poked through his teeth, running along the edge of the paper. Everything about the process captivated Steve. 

Eddie flipped open his old, dinged Zippo once again as he held the end of his creation to his lips. "This is my shit. Personal stash," he told Steve out of the corner of his mouth, joint bouncing as he held it between his lips. "Don't usually share." 

It hit Steve almost immediately. The smoke was thick as it travelled down his throat before settling in his lungs. He held it there until his lungs screamed for relief. He watched through wet eyes as the smoke left his lips, traveling in slow twists and turns before disappearing through the ceiling. 

Eddie sat beside him, both men slouched lazily into the old couch in the living room. Their hands rested on the middle seat between them. Steve's fingers twitched as he thought that it would be so easy to reach out. To grab Eddie's hand in his. But he didn't. He contented himself with having Eddie in his space in any capacity. Steve fell asleep on the couch that morning, Eddie's presence and his secret stash of the good weed lulling him into peaceful darkness. 

~~~~~

He realized that Steve was asleep when he heard the soft snores from the other end of the couch. He looked over to his sleeping form. One hand splayed over his stomach, the other resting between their thighs, just inches from his own. Steve's mouth hung open as his head rested against his shoulder. He always thought Steve was beautiful, but there was something about watching him sleep that made Eddie's heart flutter. The affection he held for him grew each time.

Eddie smiled to himself as he listened to the even, heavy sounds of Steve's breathing. He watched as his chest rose and fell beneath the mustard colored sweater he'd worn to bed. He could almost picture this exact moment as a regular occurrence in their lives. Steve napping on their couch while Eddie went about his day around him. 

His hand found Steve's before he realized it was happening. His fingers threaded between Steve's. They were a perfect fit. Like their hands were meant for the other. It felt wrong. Holding Steve's hand while he slept off a high that he wasn't really prepared for. He knew that he'd pull away as soon as he woke up. So he revelled in the time that he had. 

His mind wandered as his eyes stayed fixed on their hands, intertwined between their bodies. He thought about every moment he and Steve had spent together. He replayed every drunken conversation. He mentally revisited every night that Steve passed out in his bed. 

Normally, these would be happy memories. They would filter into his mind and pull a smile from him on his bad days. On the days that life seemed like a bit too much to handle, he could shuffle through the rolodex of Steve Harrington memories and find something sweet. Something gentle and kind. 

But that was not the case this morning. No, today felt heavy. He wondered to himself how much longer he could keep this up. How much longer could he settle for weekly sleepovers that Steve wouldn't remember? How long could he sit back and watch the man he loves destroy himself with drink and drugs? How long could he keep his feelings to himself before they spilled over and irreversibly damaged everything? 

His thumb began to run gently over Steve's knuckles. The warm skin of his fingers like silk beneath his own weathered digit. He felt his cheeks warm as a comfortable smile grew on his stubbled cheeks. He loved Steve Harrington. He loved him more than he ever thought was possible. 

He imagined what a life with Steve would be like. He pictured a small home with a white fence. Maybe a dog in the front yard. Eddie would fix their cars in the driveway while Steve mowed the lawn in a cut off t-shirt. He saw a Christmas tree in the front room. Baking cookies together during snow storms. 

Steve suddenly shifted beside him. He rolled from his back to his side, his head coming to rest on Eddie's arm. His hand never left Eddie's as a small groan sounded from his now closed mouth. Eddie's chest tightened as he snuggled into his side. 

He reached his free hand towards Steve, somehow desperate for more. His hand carded through his long hair. He swore he saw a smile on Steve's sleeping face. His movements paused, his hand stilling before cupping the back of Steve's head. He held him tightly to himself.

"Get some sleep, baby." 

His voice was so quiet. Barely a whisper. He'd never said the pet name out loud before, and certainly not to Steve. But it felt so good to say. Like he should have been doing it all along. The simple word was full of affection. Full of love. Full of everything Eddie felt but could never say out loud. 

His eyes burned with tears, white hot and stabbing at the backs like knives. His chest heaved suddenly as his breath hitched. He pulled his hand from Steve's hair, his finger pulling at a knot in the tangled tresses. The soft whine that Steve made didn't even register as he pressed two knuckles into his teeth, biting down to muffle the sounds. Tears fell freely and without mercy. He felt the collar of his shirt dampening with each drop. His throat hurt from silencing the screams that so desperately wanted to be freed from his lungs. 

And maybe if he were alone, he'd let them. Maybe he'd let go of inhibition and let his emotions flow. Maybe he'd get a song out of it. But more likely, he knew, he wouldn't. If he were alone he'd have gotten high, eaten a salad bowl full of cereal and let himself waste away on the couch until bed. 

He'd think about Steve, sure. But Steve wouldn't be cuddled so sweetly into him. He wouldn't be doing everything he could to keep quiet while crying. He wouldn't be hoping against all hope that Steve would wake up while also willing him to stay peacefully asleep against him. 

Once he'd cried himself to sleep, his body exhausted from the effort of silencing itself, he dreamt of Steve. He dreamt of their little house with the white fence. He dreamt of passing out candy to neighbor kids on Halloween. He dreamt of cuddling in bed together, limbs tangled beneath the blankets he'd let Steve pick out. He dreamt of a love that he'd never know in the waking world.

~~~~~

Feedback is always appreciated! If you'd like to be tagged in my Stranger Things fics, please let me know. I also have individual tag lists for Steve, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and Steddie.

Tag List: @renaissan-vvitch

And as a treat for making it to the end, here is the original header I made a few months ago. I still really like it, so I wanted to share. Have a lovely weekend!

[kyberphilosopher]

Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man. 

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off. 

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men. 

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

 * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot. 

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried. 

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one. 

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point. 

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day. 

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man. 

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn. 

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering. 

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard. 

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above. 

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you. 

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible. 

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman. 

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath. 

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do. 

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks. 

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?” 

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something. 

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that. 

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’. 

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch. 

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans. 

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even. 

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut. 

What’s wrong with you today? 

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again. 

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person. 

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark. 

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair. 

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins. 

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close. 

“When?” you question. 

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement. 

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine. 

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself. 

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half. 

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones. 

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response. 

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings. 

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused. 

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike. 

A man, as usual. 

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory. 

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will. 

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time. 

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand. 

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually. 

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment. 

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change. 

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all. 

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot. 

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank. 

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again. 

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all. 

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately. 

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth. 

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something. 

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last. 

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed. 

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away. 

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him. 

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around. 

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly. 

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly. 

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes. 

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time. 

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him. 

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl. 

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally. 

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it. 

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding. 

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject. 

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food. 

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat. 

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question. 

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond. 

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought. 

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible. 

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump. 

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one. 

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense. 

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend. 

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe. 

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt. 

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded. 

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help. 

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder. 

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes. 

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips. 

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly. 

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it. 

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building. 

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

That night, it rains. 

Thunder echoes, with  ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands. 

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes. 

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning. 

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it. 

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual. 

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think.  Please protect me. Please do this for me. 

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android. 

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are. 

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you. 

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now. 

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good. 

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor. 

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself. 

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes. 

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea. 

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators. 

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him. 

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy. 

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does. 

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying. 

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead. 

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second. 

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

[wearywinchester]

Tempers

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, anger flares and feelings come out.

Requested by Anonymous: This is sooo ''let's pretend they're all alive' but I think we all need something nice now, could you do one where reader is bobby's daughter and she's your typical I like makeup, short skirts and heels girl and they're all (reluctantly) working with the ghost facers for a case, dean gets protective around her bc she's bobby's daughter and not at all bc he likes her no no what gave you that idea hehehe

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: little bit of jealousy, injuries, mentions of blood, swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing

Hunting with the Winchester’s.

No matter the case, hunting with those two never failed to be interesting. You’d like to think you were a good hunter, in fact you knew you were. You might not have been the best there is but there’s not one hunter out there that hasn’t made a handful of mistakes on the job. It was bound to happen sometime. But you’ve had a pretty good hunter to learn from—your dad.

He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of you hunting, not in the slightest and he tried his hardest to get you to go another direction with your life. But Bobby Singer was as stubborn as they come, so he should’ve expected his daughter to be just the same as himself. With all of the reluctance in the world, he taught you to be the hunter you are today, and that’s something he can feel confident in even though he might not admit it.

Dean hadn’t taken you too seriously the first time you’d accompanied them on a hunt for a vamp nest, treating you as if you were a child despite the mere one year age difference the two of you held. That quickly changed when you saved him from a great deal of danger that night; three vamps against a disarmed Dean surely wouldn’t have gone very well.

That was something you very much held over his head, giving it a good long while before you finally let him live it down save for a few mentions here and there.

Even then Dean was just as protective as he’d been since you were teens nearly ten years ago, you were Bobby’s daughter. That was always his reasoning for insisting you stay close to him on hunts, for losing his temper should the smallest of things happen to you. That was his reasoning for being adamant that you stay back on hunts he deemed too dangerous, trying his hardest to convince Bobby to stick with him on it. Bobby never disagrees with his reasoning, but he also knows you’re too stubborn for your own good.

Dean was the very same way.

The old house looked like something straight out of a movie, the stereotypical haunted house as boards stick haphazardly over broken windows and the grass is far too overgrown. Nearly every corner was littered with spiderwebs, the siding on the house covered in years of neglected dirt and moss. It was only perfectly fitting that it’d be haunted, otherwise that’d be a waste of an abandoned house.

You squinted up at it as you got out of the backseat of the Impala, turning back to look at the long driveway you’d just driven up, lined with old trees on either side before glancing back at the house. Your gaze shifts to Dean as you smooth out your jacket, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowed as you look up at the older Winchester.

“Nothing,” he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a pair of those ridiculously tall heels on. I have to say I’m shocked.”

You roll your eyes and bite the inside of your cheek as he nudges the toe of your tattered old boots, his smile still remaining as he looks down at you in amusement.

“Well I guess I’m full of surprises then, aren’t I?” You say as you rub your gloss in with a smack of your lips and brush past him to get to catch up to Sam, the smile you’d tried to stifle now tugging at your lips once your back was to him. But he knew it was there just as much as you saw his was when you turned back around to catch his expression.

He chuckled, brows soon furrowing as he shook his head. “Wait—what’s that supposed to mean?”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and quickened his pace, grumbling to himself about what your words could have meant as his brows furrowed. In a matter of moments you nearly smack into Sam, stopping just in time.

“What is it?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean mutters, and when you look at him that crease between his brows deepens and his jaw tenses, eyes rolling and you follow his gaze to the ever familiar van that sat parked on the other side of the trees. “Looks like the ghostbusters beat us to it.”

Ghostfacers.

You were more than surprised when Dean had caved on working the hunt with them, not without a couple of eye rolls and a few choice words for the pair mumbled not so discreetly under his breath. But all things considered, after what happened the last time, you were surprised he’d gone through with it. Although, Harry and Ed weren’t planning on leaving anyway. They may have been more than just a little intimidated by that ever famous Dean Winchester glare, one that never worked on you, but they weren’t scared enough to back down much to Dean’s dismay.

The more people there were, the better, but that didn’t stop the older Winchester from being protective over you. In fact, you were certain he was even more so.

“Stay with me,” Dean said, his words serious as he put his arm out in front of you, his gaze over at the two less than desired guests and their cameras having been less than pleased. Especially with the way they smiled at you and acted like a couple of fools with a crush.

“What am I five, Dean?” You say, pushing his arm down as you quicken your pace to walk with him rather than behind him.

He narrows his eyes down at you as his lips purse till those dimples appeared that you’ve come to know oh so well, and rarely were they not from discontentment.

“Would you slow down?” He huffs, a smile tugging at your lips.

You sigh, shaking your head in amusement.

You failed to miss the way the back of his hand had brushed over your knuckles as you walked along the shadowed hallway, thick with cobwebs and rubble scattering across the scratched wood floors. You were starting to wonder if the action was a simple accident or if he’d felt the same spark of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his chest as you felt in yours.

It could have been nothing, probably was, but you shook it off when you turned around the corner and tried not to think about it again.

The hunt was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, and it was one spirit against five people. Harry and Ed weren’t the best of help, not really, but it was more than you walked in with and it should have been better. But it wasn’t.

The spirit turned out to be far more vengeful than she let on, and as Dean suspected, it wasn’t a good idea to split up. Not in a house that was three times bigger than it seemed with a more than violent spirit on the loose. It most certainly didn’t help that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, the house dark enough to begin with even in daylight, it’s boarded up windows and burnt out lightbulbs working against you.

Had you not been there, Dean would more than readily have split up to cover more ground with the extra set of hands accompanying you this time, it only made sense to do so. But you were. You were there and you were just as stubborn as ever as you stood there in favor of the very idea that was just the opposite of what Dean wanted. What was a good idea to you and one to most was the worst thing he could possibly think of. He didn’t want you to stray far from him for reasons he’d never admit, not to you or himself, instead reasoning with a simple ‘because I said so’.

But that phrase didn’t work on you. It never did.

He knew. From the moment those two barreled down the stairs looking paler than the spirit you were after, holding all the hesitancy in the world in their body language he knew. The apologetic look Sam had given him wasn’t one that helped either, anger quick to spark within him as he closed his eyes for a moment. He should have known better than to believe they’d offer you any form of protection even though he knows you can hold your own. He should have known better than to quit arguing with you on the matter because maybe, just maybe you’d have given in and split up with him instead. Maybe you would still be with the group and not who knows where in this maze of a run down mansion.

It was a mess of maybe’s and what if’s that clouded his every thought.

But he didn’t argue and you were gone. You were swept away by Casper the not so friendly ghost and he was to blame. Bobby would be livid if he knew, he gets that, but Dean himself didn’t know what he’d do if something happened. He could deal with the wrath of Bobby Singer any day but he couldn’t deal with even just the thought of something happening to you and he couldn’t find it in him to grasp just why it was he felt that way. Maybe he could, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“You what?” Dean asked, anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. His question was low and the two words were more than venomous, more than telling of just how angry he’d been. He heard exactly what Ed had told him not thirty seconds before, he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could believe it actually, because it was Ed of all people, but that wasn’t the point.

Ed swallowed thickly and offered a nervous laugh in an attempt to stave off the tension that’d been building the moment they came back to Dean without you, backing up from the green eyed Winchester who’d been staring him down with a narrowed gaze. It wasn’t hard to see that his patience was wearing thin, and he knew he was pushing it the more he stalled. “She—she went ahead! It’s not like we could talk her out of it!”

His fists clenched and relaxed at his sides at the reasoning he just heard, crescent shaped imprints of his nails left behind on his palms in the wake of his increasing anger.

“You let her out of your sight?” He said, far louder than before. He grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the dilapidated old wall, the wood creaking under the newfound pressure against it and a cloud of dust forming. He’s more than tense as Dean crinkles his shirt between his fists, knuckles ivory white and jaw clenched tightly. He could see every freckle and every ounce of emotion in Dean’s eyes, that’s how close he was. He could see the angry quiver in his bottom lip and the flare of his nostrils, could feel his breath hitting his face as he stood pinned to the wall and his glasses even fogged up.

“What, you thought you’d play ‘Mr. Tough Guy’, try and protect her? Huh? Cause you sure as hell didn’t do a good job,” Dean grits out frustratedly.

“She said she’d kick my ass if I didn’t let her go ahead!” He splutters, nearly nose to nose with him.

Dean nodded, the smile on his face bitter as he slid his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sweating bullets by that point as he buckled under the pressure of Dean’s distress. He let out a noise when he shook him slightly and he knows that’s not the answer Dean needs to hear right now. “We were on the second floor when a door slammed around the corner!”

“Actually, they all closed so it’s kinda hard to tell which one,” Harry chimed in, growing timid the more he spoke as he stepped closer to Sam as some form of protection. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously when Dean’s stare fell on him.

“Dean, we’ll find her, okay? Right now we’re just wasting time,” Sam says, noting Ed was two seconds from fainting from the anger radiating off the older Winchester.

Dean pushed him back once more before releasing his grip on his shirt, wrinkled and disheveled from the tightness of his fists. It was becoming increasingly more apparent that this was about more than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter. It was about more than just his annoyance with anything and everything that has to do with Ghostfacers. It was you.

He was angry, livid, as he snagged the flashlight from the table, storming off on his own. Not without his anger getting the better of him, a nearby chair taking the brunt of his frustration as it hits the wall. He remembers just what happened the last time he got stuck working a hunt with them, and he tried his hardest not to think about it.

Meanwhile, you found yourself stuck locked in a room you knew you weren’t in before you were taken. A room you didn’t even know existed in this house to begin with. For being a run down old building, the flimsy doors were stronger than they looked, but you suppose the powers of the supernatural didn’t really care about things like that.

Your knuckles were an angry shade of red, fists sore and throbbing from having pounded them against the door for the better part of what had to be ten minutes in an attempt to escape or at least grab someone’s attention. You were tired as you slumped back against the wall, tucked within the sparse circle of salt you managed to make. Your phone was dead and your flashlight was gone, your energy seemingly just as drained as everything else.

You could feel the I told you so’s coming from Dean, you knew they’d be there ready and waiting if you get out of this. It’s not like it had been completely undeserved, but you didn’t want to hear it. You knew you more than likely looked worse for wear as you sat within that circle, knew by the way you saw smears of crimson on your fingers when you wiped your cheek. It was no secret that you messed up big time with this one, you’d admit that, but admitting it to yourself didn’t help you in that moment and you certainly wouldn’t say it to Dean.

You found there were a lot of things you were hesitant on admitting to Dean, and in the current moment you weren’t so sure if you’d have the chance to bring any of them to light. Maybe it was for the best anyway, could save yourself the embarrassment of having feelings for the older Winchester in the first place. Though you can’t tell what was scarier, the thought of his inevitable discontent with you and your hunting capabilities should you make it out alive, or the very real possibility that you wouldn’t make it out alive.

Yeah, you definitely couldn’t decide that one.

You weren’t sure how or when you found yourself pining over green eyes; the two of you bickered more often than not each and every time you saw one another. If it wasn’t over the smell of your perfume filling up the Impala, it was the way his cologne hung on you after he gave you a hug just to make that happen, just to ruffle your hair after you’d just done it. It was the softer smiles you shared with each other without even realizing it.

But it didn’t really matter, not now it didn’t.

You were caught up with the sting of embarrassment coursing through you from having gotten lost in the first place—you were so adamant that you could do it on your own. It happens to Sam all the time, it happens to Dean all the time, but you couldn’t stop the heat burning in your cheeks or the frustration building in your stomach.

You didn’t know how much time had passed nor did you have a second to think on it before she appeared in front of you in a matter of seconds. The look on her face had you sitting a little straighter, back pressing to the wall behind you as you eyed the pitiful salt ring around you. She laughed tauntingly and you were beginning to think even that wouldn’t protect you, you knew it wouldn’t judging by the way each and every granule began to sift away and break apart it’s protective ring.

You swallow thickly as your eyes widened, both your gaze and hers shifting to the door briefly as it rattled. “Y/n?”

Your breath hitched, only the smallest bit of relief washing over you as her attention returned to you almost immediately. “Dean!”

She didn’t seem to mind his attempts at busting the door down, nor the axe that split through the wood. She knew full well she could send him across the room with a simple twitch of her finger should he break through, watching as you scramble to your feet.

In a matter of seconds she’d appeared mere inches from you, her hand grabbing your face, cold and unforgiving. You didn’t know just what it was she’d been doing, but you were more than aware of the pain beginning to lance through you the moment she touched your skin.

It was near unbearable, a sharp burn radiating through you as a pressure squeezed in on you, intense and unwavering. You were quite sure you’d never felt something so intensely, the feeling nearly taking your breath away. Of all the hunts you’d been on, of all the injuries you walked away with, they’ve got nothing on this.

One thing she didn’t count on was the handful of salt you gathered in your palm, too caught up in your demise to see you’d snagged it from the protective ring she broke. You pressed your hand to her wrist and watched her face twist and contort in discomfort, the action searing her arm where you’d touched it and releasing her grip on you in an instant as if you were venomous.

She pushed you to the wall in retaliation with a simple move of her hand, and if you thought she’d been angry now, you surely were mistaken. You groaned as the fragile old wall behind you cracked and crumbled around you, slumping on the ground once more in exhaustion. You caught sight of Dean’s face as the door began to give way, livid yet holding something you couldn’t quite place as your heart hammered in your chest.

But luck seemed to be on your side just this once, fear flashing across her face as she stood mere inches from you. Her yelp was shrill as she stumbled backwards, having burned up in a blaze of misery and screams. Your chest heaved as your shoulders slumped in relief, the heat of her disappearance having fanned over you and the door breaking loose in a heap of shards and splinters.

The pain she’d caused had begun to ebb away and subside, leaving the ache to remain and the fatigue you felt to rest heavier in your body as you stood to your feet with a bit of unbalance.

Dean had crossed the room in a matter of a few strides, the axe clattering to the floor as his hand settled on your cheek. You looked miserable, mascara smudged and a frown on your busted lip.

“You okay?” He asked, the furrow deep between his brows.

“Do not say ‘I told you so’,” you grumble, half humorous as you look up at him.

His lips purse, his thumb swiping over the cut running along your cheek that he was less than pleased about. Any other time he might’ve laughed, but not this time. The worried crease between his brows and the way his lips pointed downward at the corners had been telling enough that he wasn’t happy with the predicament you’d gotten yourself into, that he was the complete opposite of thrilled at the close call that had his heart pounding and his stress in overdrive. But right now he was relieved. You were here and you were okay, attitude and all.

Sam was first to rush in, Harry next and Ed hot on his heels as they stepped over the rubble and splinters of the broken door.

Ed’s own relief washed over him, happy to not be on the receiving end of an angry Dean Winchester’s punch. “You found her—”

“Shut it.”

It’d been quiet the whole car ride home, no music on the radio, no conversation, no quick witted jokes or typical conversation. It was quiet and it was tense, near uncomfortable as Sam was stuck in the tension between two people he knows have something brewing between them. But he said nothing, pretending he didn’t see the way his brother’s gaze flickers to the rear view every other minute to see if you’re okay, his jaw tense and his grip on the wheel nearly too tight.

Bobby wasn’t thrilled to see the way that spirit roughed you up, more than a few choice words thrown Dean’s way with anger in his tone. He expected that much, having braced for it the whole ride back. He didn’t argue, didn’t do much more than nod and clench his jaw, and he didn’t say just how it was that it happened in the first place either.

Now you were wandering through your dad’s house, quiet unlike it had been just two hours earlier. Your dad and Sam had both been asleep, the early hours of dawn beginning to roll around as dawn approached. You knew better than to believe Dean would be sleeping too, your thoughts confirmed when the door to the bedroom he’d been crashing in was still open, bed empty and still untouched from when he’d haphazardly made it the morning before.

You sighed when you saw him, sitting by himself on the back porch swing and the moment you stepped outside you saw the half-drunk bottle of beer in his hand. His gaze lifted to you when he heard the creak of the door, averting his stare moments later.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Go to bed.”

“Then why aren’t you in bed?”

“Not tired,” he says, tipping his bottle against his lips as he takes another sip of his beer.

You huff out a soft sigh, arms crossing over your chest. That’s when he looks at you again, the dimness of the porch light having illuminated the jagged scratch on your cheek, freshly cleaned as well as the mascara that smudged under your eyes earlier. The tension in his jaw had yet to go away, obvious as ever.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever then?”

“‘M not mad anymore,” he says, and you knew for a fact that’d been a lie.

“You’re not that good a liar, Dean,” you say, watching him set his drink down and stand to his feet, leaning his weight on the wooden railing. “I had it handled, you know,” you say, watching his expression sour at your words.

You heard his scoff as you brushed past him, a sigh leaving your lips because you knew he’d react just the way he’d been acting. You were right with him, you were always right.

“Had it handled, my ass,” he said, quick to follow after you. “I told you not to do that.”

“Yeah, well I did it,” you said, and he turned in front of you and spun around, keeping you from walking any further.

“Would you quit it with the tough guy act? You’re hurt and you damn well know it, I know it. Hell, anyone can see that. So do yourself a favor and stop pretending like you had everything under control because I know you better than to believe that.”

Your brows furrow as you look up at him with a squinted gaze, watching as his chest rises and falls, at the way there was something more than anger pooling in his eyes as he looked at you. You’ve never seen him quite this upset over you before, not really, never seen him look at you that way before. He was angry, sure he was, but it was different.

He wasn’t wrong, you were hurting, it’s not everyday you’re on the receiving end of a vengeful spirits’ wrath. You went off on your own when you shouldn’t have been so bold and daring. But you were here. You were here and you were okay and you knew you were bound to do it again on another case. It was what being a hunter is about. You didn’t get this far by sitting back and letting the monsters out there come to you, you had to go out and look for them and if you got a few bumps and bruises then so be it.

“Why are you so mad, Dean?” You ask, watching his eyes roll. “You go out and do the same reckless things on a hunt, you’ve come out on the other side way worse than I did. But since it’s me, suddenly it’s a problem.”

“Exactly, it’s because it’s you!” He repeats, frustrated as ever as he throws his hands up. “And yeah I’m mad. I’m freakin’ pissed. You come in here thinking you’re invincible and you’re not Y/n. I’m mad because…” he paused, letting out a breath as he rubbed his face, hands running through his hair.

He looked at you then, expression softening as he calmed down a fraction. “Forget it.”

“No, not forget it,” you say, grabbing his wrist as he starts to walk away. His jaw was clenched as he looked down at you, swallowing thickly as the heaving of his chest slowed and his grip on the doorknob was tighter than ever.

This was the first time since you’d gotten back that he’d looked in your eyes for longer than a mere second or two. You knew he was on the brink of storming off to sulk in his own anger and guilt because that’s what he always did. You knew there was something more to it than just what he’d told you. He’d like to think that you’d believe that he wasn’t angry anymore, that he was over it. But Sam told you what happened back there, how upset he got with Ed and just how worried he’d been. It was growing increasingly obvious that there was more to it than that.

It was then that you noticed you’d still been holding onto his wrist and he didn’t pull away from you, didn’t make a move to.

You tilted your head to the side when you mulled things over, and that was when the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that thing where you try and ‘read’ me,” he says, quoting the word.

“You were scared,” you said, smile widening a bit and he huffs, pulling his arm from your loose grip. You hit the nail right on the head.

“I was just doing what Bobby asked me to do,” he says, adamant that that was his reason for being as upset as he was. Definitely not over the feelings bubbling away in the pit of his stomach, just waiting to go ahead and boil over.

“No, you were scared, De,” you say as he starts to turn away from you in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to show. “You were scared that I got lost.”

You always did that. You always took his anger and made it something else entirely and he’d try his hardest to keep that wall up. He was mad at you, mad at you for putting yourself in the same kind of danger he allows himself to be in with every hunt he does. But if you keep poking and prodding him and calling him out on his true feelings with that smile that makes him weak in the knees he does know how long he’ll last.

“You got this all wrong, sweetheart.”

“Sam told me what happened with Ed back there.”

His expression changed, softened a bit before he played it off with that familiar smirk. “Yeah, Ed’s an idiot and he pushed my buttons.”

You nodded then, your smile more than telling that you didn’t believe a word he said. You heaved a sigh, a bit of disappointment burning in your chest at his words. Because maybe you did have it all wrong, maybe his stubborn reluctance to be honest was just him telling the truth. Maybe he was just doing what your dad asked him to do. Being protective was in his nature, you knew that for a fact.

You brushed past him on the porch and headed to the door, the chirping of the early morning birds sounding and giving you enough of a reminder that maybe you should go to bed. That maybe you’ll feel better with a few hours of sleep. That maybe they would be gone, Dean would be gone by the time you woke up and you wouldn’t have to face the fluttery feeling and the ache in your heart until the next time you see him.

You spin on your heel to find him already looking, your smile soft. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Without so much as a reply you twist the old brass doorknob, pushing the back door open before his hand grips your wrist. You turned back to look at him, brows furrowed as you gazed up at him. He swallows thickly as he looks at you, lips parting to speak but the very words he’d been thinking of so vividly were stuck on the top of his tongue.

His hand loosens around your wrist and the tips of his fingers slide down to your hand to envelope yours, calloused and warm and hesitant. He takes all but a few seconds of your curious gaze, of the questions sitting on your tongue before he dips down and presses his lips on yours. It’s soft, featherlight almost as he pulls away just as quickly.

He doesn’t stray too far, his nose brushing against yours as he swallows nervously, but the sight of your smile put him at ease. Had him kissing you with just a little more vigor as his hand drops yours in favor of pressing to your cheek, your own having settled in his arm. Your smiles mingle and press into each other, the kiss soft and languid as your cheeks burned under his touch.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” You murmur, and the way he hummed softly, the way he stole another kiss in favor of admitting you were was telling enough.

He pulls back to look at you, his lips kiss swollen and pink as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. His eyes bounce between yours and down to your lips, looking at you once more before he kisses you again. The anger he held is quick to melt when you look at him the way you do and he hates it, he loves it but he hates it because he really should be mad. You nearly got yourself killed and here he was weak in the knees and he knows you’ll be just as brave on the next hunt. He knows you’ll do just the same thing.

“Your dad’s gonna kill me,” he mumbles, smiling against your lips.

“Probably,” you say with a grin, his quiet laughter immediate as he pulls you closer.

But you were right. There was more to it than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter, there always was. As stubborn as Dean Winchester could be, you knew him better than that, and he knew you better than to believe you won’t make his heart race and his worry spike on every hunt after that. It’s just in your nature to be braver than ever.

But he’ll protect you each and every time.

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Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @lanea-1 @campingmonkey

[scariusaquarius]

the love of a god.

Virgin! Spartan! Bakugo Katsuki x Goddess of War! Reader

Synopsis: Bakugo Katsuki is the strongest warrior in his tribe, a tribe of warriors whom live for battle. It is June 3rd, and there must be a sacrifice for Her Divinity...

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A/n: I'm in love with Greek/Roman mythology and have been interested in writing for the au for a while now. Finally just now got bit by the creativity bug though so i finally managed to write this. have fun :)

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Genre: Erotica, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning:  Roman God AU, Human Sacrifice, Blood Play, Marking, Overstimulation, Size Kink, Noncon

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Author: ScariusAquarius.

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WARNING: THIS FIC WILL FEATURE DARK NONCON CONTENT. DO NOT READ IF NONCONSENSUAL MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. A N Y NEGATIVE COMMENTS WILL EARN A BLOCK.

“Bellona! Hear our praises! We ask for your strength and protection in exchange for one human soul! The strongest of souls within our tribe only for you, o Bellona!”

Drums began to sound on the dusk of the first sunrise of summer, the sun burning a strong orange and fiery red as it slowly began to rise. Humming within the tribe began to sound, and a loud and angry voice could be heard over the low humming.

“Hey! Get your fucking hands off of me! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The tribe leader paid no mind to the angry man whom had been bound so tightly, his arms, feet, and ankles were rubbed red and bleeding. Instead, the leader began to sing, the drums echoing through the fiery air.

“To Bellona, beautiful, terrible goddess, I offer my praise…-“

Red eyes glared at a large stake right at the cliff-face, eyes widening when two men dumped oil onto his body. The man began to struggle more, yelling out as his eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re gonna fucking regret this! I’m Katsuki Bakugo! The Son of the strongest tribe in the East!!”

“-Companion of Mars, daughter of Juno and thundering Jupiter, you delight in the clash of arms, the loud battle-cries; you dance upon the blood-soaked ground…-“

Bakugo was beginning to panic as more tribesmen began to pour more oil into the hay of the strange altar, growling as he was tied up and then gagged.

“I’ll bite your fucking fingers off if you come near me! Hey! Hey!”

Bakugo began to go feral, squirming as hard as he could within his binds as the leader continued to pray. As the leader brandished a large sword, wiping it with oil before setting it aflame, the leader gave one last look at Bakugo.

“I honor your work, O goddess; I honor your might. I give only the best to you, O Bellona.”

Time seemed to slow for Bakugo as he watched the flaming sword light the hay beneath him ablaze, and then a searing pain eating at his feet. A loud scream left Bakugo’s lips as the fire burned his skin and clothes, the smell and pain making his vision go white. As he continued to writhe and scream in pain, Bakugo could hear the chants and cheers from the people whom had sacrificed him.

Why him? Why did it have to be him? He would kill these bastards! All of them! Bakugo let out one last cry before suddenly, everything turned black. There was a sensation of floating, and then gently falling until he felt as though he had landed in a pile of pillows. Bakugo opened up his eyes, and found that he was lying in an extremely large and circular canopy bed. Torches were on top of the posts, lit with a dark green

White and red sheer curtains gently flowed down around the bed as if there was wind, but there was no breeze that Bakugo could feel. The environment around him could only be described as space. Galaxies and stars were all around him, comets and flaming chariots with large warriors chasing them, and Bakugo was so in awe that he didn’t even realize he was completely naked until he moved to sit up.

Snatching the sheets into his lap, Bakugo’s nerves were shot. Where the fuck was he? Why was he naked? The sheets within his lap were so soft, they felt like clouds…Bakugo had to guess it was pure silk…or something else. There was power that resonated all around him; echoing through the very fibers of his soul.

“I’ve waited so long for you, Bakugo Katsuki.”

His whole body froze as he felt a hand within his lap, cool breath on his ear, and Bakugo slowly looked to the left. What lied beside him could only be described as a goddess, and Bakugo knew which one.

Bellona, the great goddess of war that his tribe worshiped.

She was beautiful. (E/c) eyes that shined with such a confident and terrifying glint, beautiful (s/c) skin that felt so soft upon his chest. Her body was lovely, scar-ridden and glowing with her divine power. Her hair was adorned with droplets of fiery, golden light in the shape of a crown.

A fitting crown for a powerful queen whom owned the battlefield.

She was much taller than normal humans, a side-effect of her divineness. Most gods usually towered over humans. Divine Giants of the Sky, at least that’s what Bakugo remembered. Bellona was also stark naked, on display for his eyes, her pretty breasts already dimpled with gooseflesh and her nipples completely hard.

Bakugo gasped when her large hand went to his hair, bunching it up and roughly tugging.

“It’s disrespectful not to greet your hosts, little Spartan.”

“Fuck you.”

The goddess chuckled, licking her lips as she stared down at his naked chest.

“I’m hoping on it. After all, I own you completely now.”

Bakugo wanted to fight back, but her grip was so strong, he could feel his scalp stinging. How could he bear to stand a chance against a God? He was human. He couldn’t compare to her divine power. Pulling him closer, her tongue slipped out and licked along his neck. Bakugo’s face went red, and he grabbed a tight hold of her tongue.

“Get off of me, you creep!”

“Mm, grab on tighter! It only makes me want to beat the pleasure into you even more!”

Bakugo let out a loud growl, shunting his knee into her abdomen, but the goddess did not react. Instead, she giggled before biting straight through her tongue. Bakugo’s eyes widened in shock, dropping the dismembered tongue onto the bed as the muscle continue to twitch before turning to ash. Bellona giggled before spitting it out all over his chest.

Bakugo made a noise of disgust, and Bellona held him close to her as her newly-regenerated tongue slithered out and licked her hot saliva over his nipples, licking up her own blood.

“Those stupid worms…they kept sacrificing all the strongest warriors without knowing that I only ever wanted you.”

Bakugo’s heart twitched weirdly, and he let out a small whimper as her lips encased his nipple and sucked. His cock was beginning to grow hard, and Bakugo whimpered out.

“W-What? What are you talking about?”

“Hush. Let me worship you now, Katsuki.”

Her breath was strangely cold against his skin despite everything else about her being overwhelmingly warm. Bellona’s hands were running all along his body, caressing his muscles and cupping the low of his back as she brought him up to her lap. Bakugo made an embarrassed noise when the sheet fell, revealing his hard cock.

“Own your power, Katsuki. I gave it to you for a reason.”

“D-Dammit, Bellona, wait-“

Bellona pulled back, making a face at him and gripping his face tightly.

“No, you call me (Y/n) when I am not in my armor. You are now mine, and therefore you should know my true name.”

-READER POV-

Katsuki’s legs were on either side of your thigh, his cock pressed up against your stomach, and his hands were gripping your wrist tightly. His red eyes were glaring at you, a blush evident on his cheeks, and he let out a small whine when you squeezed tighter.

“Maybe I should punish you instead…I wanted to give you such a warm welcome into your new home…but then again, you are a Spartan…”

Punish him? Wait, what did that mean? Could he be killed twice? Bakugo was getting ready to fight back when your hands went to his hips and began to press down, forcing his hips back and forth against you. Bakugo gasped loudly, his cock rubbing up and down on your body, and Bakugo clenched his teeth.

You leaned forward, kissing his neck harshly to leave dark marks, and you whispered into his ear as you moved his hands to your breasts; your hands retuning to his hips after.

“I’ll tame you just like I did with the rest of your pretty army. Then, you shall help me rule…my King.”

Bakugo was overwhelmed quickly, your soft skin in his palms feeling so nice…the sensations tingling within his cock and balls…Bakugo couldn’t help but gently squeeze your nipples. You hummed, feeling his resolve quickly crumble, and you giggled.

“Come here. Let yourself rest before battle…”

You lied back, head against your large pillows, and Bakugo slipped from your thigh, his cock leaking precum and throbbing. Bakugo grabbed the base of his cock harshly, taking large gulps of air as he tried to calm down, but you were upon him again. Pushing him back, Bakugo’s eyes widened when your lips came close to his cock.

“Wait, don’t do that!”

Bakugo gasped harshly when your large mouth engulfed his cock, your tongue swirling around the throbbing shaft. He hated to admit it, but he had never done anything like this before; never experienced or even knew about what all sex actually was. Was he really about to lose his virginity to a goddess? Bakugo’s face was red, small pants and moans spilling from his lips. Whatever it was that you were doing, it felt so good that Bakugo couldn’t stay quiet.

Bakugo’s hands went to your head, pushing against you to try to make you take his cock from your mouth, but you only went down farther. You were practically swallowing his cock, making obscene noises, and slurping loudly. You were enjoying yourself clearly…and so was Bakugo. His body was humming, feeling so good that Bakugo couldn’t resist.

He didn’t want to do this. Bakugo didn’t want to be enforced to an afterlife filled with this. He was meant for more…meant for much bigger and better things. Surely, you were wrong, weren’t you? Surely, he still had a chance?

You sucked harshly on his cock, and Bakugo let out a shout, hips bucking and thrusting his cock. Bakugo came suddenly, hot cum spurting into your mouth and down your throat, and your eyes glinted in delight.

“Doesn’t it feel so good? Don’t you want more? Come please your goddess.”

Bakugo shook his head, however.

“No.”

“No?”

You giggled before snapping your fingers. Bakugo’s body was restrained in a second, satin ropes tying him in spread-eagle position. His eyes widened, a gag in his mouth as well, and you hovered your wet pussy over his cock. Would his cock even please you with the size difference? Bakugo couldn’t even ponder it as you sat down right onto his cock, his cock disappearing into your hot and wet heat, and he let out a cry of surprise.

“I don’t think you have a place to refuse me, Katsuki Bakugo. I created you. I own you! I bargained you for 21 years…and now you are back in my total possession! Whether you want to or not, I will make you my king. You will rule beside your queen as her general, and you will help conquer all of existence by my side.”

You rode his cock with a brutal and cruel pace, hands pressing down harshly on his body to keep him pinned as you fucked him, and Bakugo was fighting against his restraints. He didn’t want to hurt anybody…he didn’t want to be a king. He didn’t want any of this. Why did the universe choose this fate for him?

Bakugo moaned pitifully into his gag, tears of confused pleasure within his eyes, and you moaned in ecstasy. Your appearance began to morph and change, your pussy beginning to feel much more confined the more you down-sized until finally, you were human-sized. Your strength and might didn’t change, however, as you continued to bounce and fuck his cock.

His toes curled tightly as his cock throbbed a second time, and you moaned again.

“I’ll fuck the obedience into you…I’ll make you want to fuck me so badly every night that you’ll never disobey me. You want that, don’t you, though? You little disgusting creation. I can feel the way your cock wants to fill my womb with your seed. Your existence is meaningless without me.”

Bakugo’s eyes squeezed shut as he came a second time, and you grinned maniacally at him. Bloodlust was deep within your eyes, and Bakugo no longer felt as though he would make it out of this alive.

“Are you going to be good? Are you going to cum again for me, my king? I want you to fuck me so badly…I can’t wait until you gain your divinity so that we can really fuck.”

Gain divinity? Bakugo’s eyes opened slightly. If he gained divinity, would he be like you? If that’s the case…maybe he really did have a way out. Bakugo growled deeply to himself. He would go along with the show just for a bit…and then at the right moment, Bakugo would fight back.

Bakugo moaned into his gag as your walls clenched around him, and you began to play with your clit as his cock disappeared in and out of your wetness.

“Fuck, I’m so horny for you! It’s so hot watching your resolve crumble…I really am invincible in all aspects of the very word!”

You let out a wail of pleasure, cumming all over his cock, and Bakugo let out a whimper as he came one last tight. Feeling a strange sense of disgust at the feeling of his cock being covered in cum, Bakugo shook his head, trying to buck you off of him.

“Oh no, we aren’t even nearly close to done. I’m going to push you past your limits and then completely break you.”

[END]

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[21burritoseavey]

wonder (j.a.)

a/n: uhh, yeah so I would like to formally apologise for what you are about to read. I don’t know if I’ll make a pt.2 but if you want one let me know. thanks to the wonderful person who requested this and thank you for your patience. I changed a few things and it’s a little unedited but I really hope you like it!  

Summary: Jack tells Y/n he likes her on her birthday.

Song: Wonder by Shawn Mendes

I wonder if I'm being real Do I speak my truth or do I filter how I feel?

“We’re already late! Hurry up!” Corbyn yelled out from the entrance hall of the Seavey residence, ending his third reminder with an irritated slam of the front door. 

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Jack shot back quieter. His gaze lingered on Daniel’s wardrobe mirror, clean and reflective of his handsomely dressed figure. Jack sighed as he glanced down at himself, ruffling a hand through his hair. 

The day dawned crisp and clear, warm with the light of the sun glaring through fewer clouds than usual. Corbyn strolled across the driveway to meet the rest of the boys - ready and waiting - in the car. No other boy was seen following behind them, indicating another few minutes of waiting to be had. 

“It’s a birthday party, we’re not meeting the Queen.” Daniel rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not just a birthday party,” Jack declared a moment after, tugging at the narrow collar of his blazer in his hurry to make it to the car. He finally decided this outfit would be the one - all white clothes on, black dress shoes and dark brunette curls left unbound to tumble messily along the breeze as he jogged to Jonah’s open window. 

I wonder, wouldn't it be nice To live inside a world that isn't black and white?

“It’s Y/n’s 21st birthday.” He breathed, leaning his elbows on the edge of the window. 

“You’re wearing the first outfit you put on,” Zach drawled, slumping back into the passenger’s seat. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jack shrugged, walking across the road to the empty seats in the back. Corbyn and Jack slipped into the back beside Daniel. The air was sticky and humid, only to perish when the air conditioning blasted from the front before they made it out of Daniel’s neighbourhood, wafting cool air with the low hum of constant blowing accompanying it. 

I wonder what it's like to be my friends Hope that they don't think I'll forget about them I wonder

While the rest of the boys filled the air with conversation about gifts and birthday festivities, Jack was silent, making his quiet presence known with simple nods and agreements. His mind reeled with thoughts and thoughts of Y/n, unable to still to a peacefulness for the whole car ride. Y/n was always one to make everyone feel comfortable, especially at a party she’d planned herself. But there was something about Y/n’s special day that made Jack’s cheeks flush and heart flutter with even more intensity every moment he thought about it. Maybe this would be the perfect day to tell her?

Y/n never enjoyed all the parties she’d been dragged to by friends at university. The chaos of college students finally letting loose was overwhelming, to say the least. The strobe lights dancing onto the floor and pounding baselines reverberating through intoxicated bodies and infused scents of perfume and cologne laced in the foggy dark air only made Y/n’s loathing for them grow stronger every time she went to one. And when it was time for her own party, Y/n made sure it was everything she envisioned it to be. 

Right before I close my eyes The only thing that's on my mind

Including the guys, an invite had been sent to some friends from her classes, one of whom was named James, a friend from her visual arts class. Nothing more. Or at least that’s how Jack liked to think of it. He had no right to be angry, but every time that name rolled off his tongue, it sent a sickening chill down his spine. It all started when Y/n went over to Jack’s place. With her backpack across her back, she let herself into his room casually. Her smile caught Jack’s gaze as he sat behind his keyboard...along with another smile, from a guy he’d never seen before. Y/n had invited him over herself in order for the two boys to ‘get to know each other’. Jack could barely stomach the thought of wiping the grin off her face with any sort of disagreement, so he let them both stay. That night was packed with great conversation and giddy dimpled laughter between them, but not Jack. His mind was so deep in wonder and confusion that he could hardly hear what they were even saying. 

“Jack, could you pass that box over there?” Corbyn asked, gesturing towards the wrapped rectangular gift. Jack raised his gaze to Corbyn. Just a friend Jack thought at last, dismissing the rest of his thoughts as he leaned over to grab the present. 

Been dreamin' that you feel it too I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

“You got her something?” He gaped, “I thought we all agreed to not get her anything?” His eyes shot back towards the rest of the guys as they stepped out of the car. He noticed their gifts as his eyes roamed down towards the neatly...and some quite messily wrapped gifts in their hands. “So, it’s just me then?” He asked with an annoyed glare. “Great.” He sighed, “no that’s just wonderful.” He corrected, hopping out of the car to show the sarcasm etched in his expression. “I just won’t have anything to give Y/n. This was my one chance to tell her-” 

“That’s okay,” Y/n spoke gently behind him. Her sudden words had Jack twirling around slowly to greet her, as if doing so would ease the embarrassment that washed over him. Though, a quick hug from Y/n had him easing back into himself in seconds. Y/n pulled away and glanced at him, “What’d you need to tell me?” 

“Uh...um,” Jack’s eyes flickered to the boys, “Happy birthday!” He assured her, leaning back in for a hug, ignoring the boys’ teasing laughter that found its way along the breeze and into his ears. 

“Thank you,” Y/n said sweetly. 

“And Sydnie wanted me to tell you that she’s sorry she couldn’t make it and happy birthday.” 

“Oh,” Y/n grinned, “Well tell her that I’m sad she’s missing out, but she’s still my favourite Avery.” Y/n bit back a smile and watched Jack’s expression morph into an opened mouthed glare. 

She broke out into a fit of laughter, cheerful giggles falling between them as Jack stuttered out a “Wow, how could you?” He shook his head disapprovingly. 

I wonder why I'm so afraid Of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint

Y/n’s party was at the park - nothing unexpected for Jack since he knew she loved it so much - and with the help of some friends, the set up was the perfect mix of classy and casual. A long table cut through the grassy field, standing under a silky white sheet, and it was almost like a canopy of flowers were draped across it. The bandmates noticed a few of Y/n’s friends at their spots on the cushions, helping themselves to the platters of fruit and snacks. And even a small tepee stood a small distance away, upholstered with light blue canvas that sheltered Y/n’s sleepy puppy inside. The sun kissed shades of champagne pink and soft beige with its bright rays and the gentle wind allowed the tableware to stay in place without worry of anything toppling over.

The boys wished Y/n a happy birthday while they took their seats, but Jack lingered in front of the narrow table. The way in which he was standing was almost perfect for a photo and Y/n took their fleeting moment of stillness to snap a quick one beside them. Her beaming smile greeted Jack’s gaze from the side. “I can’t believe you did this,” He chuckled breathily. 

“Are you doubting my hard work, Jack Avery?” She teased, pocketing her phone. 

“No, no, It’s great.” He rushed out. 

“Yeah, this is amazing Y/n.” Jonah started, crouched down to pat the lazy puppy. “It's so aesthetic.” He said honestly, sending a wave of light laughter to flourish over the group. 

“Well, come on, then. Sit down.” She ushered Jack to sit on one of carefully placed cushions. A familiar boy came breezing towards the low table from behind the low-lying bushes. Y/n looked up at him with a smile, and she gazed back at the boys to introduce him formally. “Oh, and, um” She wobbled onto her feet and stood beside him. “This is James,” she said gently, looking towards the boys with hesitance in her eyes, a smile still on her face. 

I wonder, when I cry into my hands I'm conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man

Jack’s neutral expression faltered into a frown, and he bowed his head towards his dress shoes, blaming it on the fake notification he’d gotten on his phone when Y/n asked him if he was okay.  “You two already know each other.” She smiled, settling back into her seat beside James. “Why don’t you tell him about the band?” she proposed. Her jolly gaze towards the other boy practically gave Jack no other choice but to start the conversation. 

“Yeah, sure.” He answered calmly. 

--------

And I wonder if someday you'll be by my side And tell me that the world will end up alright I wonder

Jack had counted sixteen people at the park in his head while he talked to James. It was more of a one-sided thing actually - the other boy held forth almost all hour about his own musical experiences - and Jack finally decided to end the conversation with a random excuse, no longer able to hide his hurt with a smile. “Hey, you know what, I actually have to get Y/n’s gift from the car. So, we’ll talk later?” He spoke gently, standing up to make his escape quick and easy. 

“Oh, sure. Nice talking to you.” James nodded, letting Jack leave with a smile on his lips. In all honesty, the conversation wasn’t bad enough for him to leave abruptly, but there was just something about the way Y/n lingered close to him as they chatted...the way her eyes roamed over James’ lips as he spoke... the slight twinkle in her eyes kindled with an almost childish nervousness at their close proximity. To the other boys, Jack was always reading too much into things, but this time was quite the opposite, and he swore there were a bunch of signs that something was going on between them. 

Right before I close my eyes The only thing that's on my mind

“Six instruments,” Jack started plainly, trudging over to Daniel and Corbyn. Y/n’s 4-month-old golden retriever had made himself comfortable on Daniel’s lap as the pair sat on the grass with a plate of snacks next to them. The mutual laughter falling between them broke with Jack’s voice again, “He plays six instruments.” He sat tiredly on the grass, palms propped up behind him and legs stretched out. “How can I compete with that?” He threw his hands up in exasperation and dropped them to plop a piece of cantaloupe in his mouth. 

“Damn, almost as many as me.” Daniel let out an impressed chuckle, glancing over at the tall brunette boy standing next to Y/n. “Maybe he could be our sixth member.” He joked.

Corbyn caught on and continued their teasing, “yeah, his hair is goals.” He laughed. 

“So, what, you guys think he’s great too?” Jack looked furiously towards them as he plucked out stands of grass. 

Been dreamin' that you feel it too I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

“You don’t?” Corbyn asked between a bite of his watermelon. Daniel eyed him with an envious stare silently. Jack stayed quiet; fingers focused on ripping out small roots from the ground. “Why are we just hearing of this now?”

“I didn’t think it would get to this!” Jack admitted breathily. “I mean, studying together, that’s okay, but coming to her birthday party?”

“...More of a... get-together...” Daniel trailed off quietly. 

Jack continued on as if the others were invisible. “I’ve had my heart set on telling her today for weeks now.” He slumped back against the tepee, sharing a swift look with the small blonde puppy that wobbled back into his bed. “I can’t tell her now. Not when he’s here.” 

“We come to birthday parties and we’re friends...I don’t get what the problem is. He’s probably just a friend like Y/n said.”

I wonder what it's like I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

“No, look at the way they’re standing. He linked his arm with hers.” Jack didn’t bother acting sly and just pointed towards the almost coupley pair of university students sitting at the picnic table again. Y/n’s arm was indeed linked with James’ as they shared a plate of snacks. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Jack repeated, keeping his gaze on the one individual he thought liked him back. But Jack could see how it mattered to Y/n, she wasn’t pulling away after all. He tried to shake it off and focus back on his group that had now increased with Zach hearing Jack’s gloomy thoughts from a few paces away. 

“Why don’t you just go talk to her?” Zach said. 

“I can’t,” Jack pouted. “Or else I’d be interrupting whatever that is…” Jack’s quiet last word couldn’t be heard over Jonah’s heavy footsteps pounding across the levelled grass. His panicked expression immediately set Jack into high alert, and he looked towards his friend with the same concerned stricken face. 

Right before I close my eyes The only thing that's on my mind

“Okay-I-...” Jonah hunched over with his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath, “I don’t- I-” He stopped trying to speak and let a silence fall over the small group. He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t usually be this panicked about something like this but, they are like going to. Kiss.” Jonah’s words came out as faint breaths, but Jack understood every word and he shifted his gaze over towards Y/n again. The gap between the two was basically non-existent in Jack’s eyes. James’ hand was on her thigh as they faced each other before it reached up to tuck a strand of Y/n’s sun kissed hair that cascaded down her back. And with Y/n leaning in closer with a smile, their lips were mere seconds away from meeting and stomach’s almost swarming with premature first kiss butterflies. That sight of them together, that moment suspended in time ignited this spark in Jack. It was more than the spark of fondness and adoration for Y/n, it was this weird, stinging mix of hurt and panic that just led him towards the picnic table. The loud stomps coming from the corner had Y/n and James flinching back in fear. 

“Hey, okay look Y/n. I know I’m not like this James guy,” Jack rushed out, barely paying a glance towards the other boy as he stepped closer to the frazzled girl sitting cross-legged on the floor. “And I can’t play six instruments and do homework as good as him and I don’t have cool hair,” His voice was fragile as if it could break any second with the chance of his confession being a total disaster, but he went for it. “But I like you… so much Y/n. I always have.” 

Been dreamin' that you feel it too I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

 a/n: AHHH SORRY gjreigihtrh

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[imnotwolverine]

Wildland

Kilts’N’Romance one-shot: NSFW, stealing, chasing, reference to abuse and a smidge of smut

Wordcount: 1.879 (7 minutes reading) 

I should have never gone,  to where the wild ones live. 

Darkness was falling and the damp had started to crawl back up from the cool tall grass. It was cold, and yet I felt hot. Cheeks flushed with exertion and anticipation. My heart was racing now I knew that the beast was chasing me. Searching me. The only between us, being a man high boulder that was cold and mossy beneath my fingertips.  

I could hear his ragged breath and annoyed curses. I could hear his heavy feet mulling through the tall wet grass blades. And I could just about smell him. This strange beast. Wild one. His nose now probably up in the air, sniffing me back. Would he find me? The thought made my heart gallop even faster. 

‘Oh wee one..’ He breathed. 

I bolted. 

There was a curse in my heart and on his lips as I abandoned my refuge. And all I could do was run. Run as fast as the soaked skirts around my legs would carry me. I had always hated these skirts, and yet it seemed there was a chance that I would, I could, maybe… 

‘STOP!’ He called, feet thundering in pursuit. ‘Oi! STOP!’ 

I ran and ran as I heard his booming voice behind me. The sound covering all the way to the trees that wrapped around this grassy meadow. They would be my chance of escaping, dusk covering me if only I could be fast enough. Agile enough. Swift as a deer in flight. 

A large object crashed into my back and there I was. Smashed into the grass that now suffocated me, green blades cold, wet and sharp against my clammy skin.  

‘Ah…’ He breathed out of breath. ‘You..Naughty lass..’ 

I wiggled and fought but there was no way to move this lug of a man. One large leg was all it required to keep me pinned down and helpless in the sharp grass. 

‘Think you can steal from a man?’ His voice came closer and I found his face now inches from mine. ‘From me?’

There was a tinge of blue in the eyes that hid behind his dark mane and scruffy chin. And lest my eyes not betray me, he was not quite as angry as he had appeared moments earlier. His sharp jaw clenched as our eyes met and a quiet moment passed.

‘I’m sorry.’ I finally managed, heart racing for a confusing mix of things. I forgot for a moment how wet and cold and uncomfortable I was in this darkening meadow. I forgot how severe this situation probably truly was. I had been caught stealing some of his provisions. This wild one. And it took no fool to realize that there was no escape. 

His blue eyes darkened. 

‘Sorry won’t do.’ 

Our eyes met again, though this time his eyes trailed down the rest of my face unapologetically. All the way to the caress of my breasts against my corset. He looked back up. 

‘I was just hungry.’ I tried to wiggle from under his leg, but it didn’t work. He only pinned me down harder, his other leg now swinging around until he sat atop my hip, hands working up the curve of my clothed spine. Even there the dampness had come, bringing with it a cold, cold shiver. 

‘Could have asked.’ His hand found the back of my neck and I let out a soft gasp. His hands were delightfully warm and gentle as they trailed up through my hair. 

‘Please.’ I begged. 

‘Please what me lass?’ 

‘I’ll do anything.’ 

That made him chuckle, his hand leaving a quickly cooling spot on my neck. ‘Whatsa wee one even doing in these lands? Can’t really go ‘round stealing and begging, no?’ He swung his legs back over and before I knew it his departing bodyweight left me cold and stunned. Did he just let me go? With confusion in my eyes I looked up, hands pressing up to get out of the grass. 

He was walking back to his camp. 

‘Hey..!’ I stood up and watched his broad back silhouetted by the campfire that was burning a little distance away. He didn’t look back. 

‘Hey! You can’t just..’ I felt a shiver run up my spine as I realised what a predicament I was in. Beneath the soaked layers of my skirts, the stolen piece of bread had gone fully soaked. It was hardly a meal at all. And as I felt the bread disintegrate beneath my fingertips, I watched as the man casually sauntered back to his fire. His warmth. His food. His everything-I-had-left-behind as I had run from my husband. 

He could have harmed me. Beaten me. Raped me. But despite all the right reasons to do so, he was nothing like the man I had left behind this morning. He just walked. He. Just. Left. 

Without thinking I found my feet moving. Not away as I probably should have. As I probably should have never come to these barren lands. No, I continued deeper onto the path of trouble. I followed the trails to where the wild ones live. For somehow this seemed more welcoming than returning would. 

He finally turned around, his face now hidden in the darkness. The orange flames behind him cast his silhouette in a warm glow. 

‘Coming to steal again?’ 

My breath choked and I quickly shook my head, tongue flicking nervously over my lips. Was he angry with me? I wasn’t sure. He turned back around and finally settled by the fire. 

I followed. 

‘Wait.’ He said before I sat down by the fire as well. I halted and felt the nerves crawl back up my spine again. Any moment could be my last, lest I not play my cards carefully. I looked at his feet in obedience and waited. 

He sighed. ‘Gods be the devil, what is it with ye lass? You’ll sit in the smoke.’ He gestured to where I had thought to settle down and finally I dared to look up. If there was any devil in this man, it was the kindest devil yet. I sighed in quiet relief and smiled a little. 

‘Sorry.’ 

‘And you stop that too.’ He patted a spot right between the outstretched legs that appeared from beneath his kilt. I sat down there, eyes still hesitating to look him straight in the eye. Was this a smart thing to do? Probably not. Did I want to? I probably did. My heart started racing again as I felt the heat that came radiating off him and the fire before me. 

‘What if I don’t want to?’ I whispered. 

He laughed. ‘What a way, what a way. One moment a spirit steals my old bread, next I have a lass in ‘tween me legs.’ 

I finally dared to turn and look him straight in the eye. He was grinning cockily and I felt my tongue go sharp. ‘Well you better enjoy it!’ 

‘I am..’ His grin smouldered down to a charming smirk. 

‘You are?’ I teased, feeling emboldened as I turned a little way more to get a better look at him. Behind all the grime and disheveled hair set a good looking man with a dimpled chin and sparkling eyes. 

He shrugged. 

‘So you gonn’ be a-staying then little spirit?’ 

‘Maybe.’ 

He raised a challenging eyebrow.  

‘What?’ I asked. 

He laughed and shook his head. ‘You must know that the fire don’t kindle itself.’ 

And as he said so something moved beneath the layered pleats of his kilt. A dragging little thing that moved between his legs. I breathed in cautiously and looked back up, his eyes now a good shade darker. 

‘So I can..’ I brushed a hand up and beneath his kilt. His muscular thigh clenched beneath my cold fingers. ‘..stay?’ 

He licked his lips and it was clear it took great effort to calm himself. With a breathy laugh he looked up at the sky as my hand travelled further up his leg. 

‘Oh lass… monsters live ‘ere.’ His words cut short as my other hand copied the snaking caress on his other thigh. 

‘Mm?’ 

He licked his lips again and kept his eyes up at the sky. ‘Big ones.’ 

‘Dangerous ones?’ 

He looked down and back at me. The light of the flames danced over his features, setting him in a beautiful orange golden light. 

‘Only when they need be.’ 

Both my hands were now at the tops of his thighs, hiking up his kilt until there was little modesty left. 

‘Ah fek it.’ He growled and in a lunging assault I was smacked into the ground again. This time no cold hard grass, but a warm bit of sandy earth. Along with the assault came lips. Perfectly supple and wet against my neck and chin. And then there were hands that wandered, mimicking the way my hands had travelled up his legs. 

I gasped and moaned as there was suddenly warmth everywhere. The sensation of my cold and soaked clothes was swiftly forgotten, making place for a heavy musky scent that infiltrated my nostrils. This man smelled of the earth, sweat, rain. Not of alcohol and abuse. There was no pain in the way he touched me. Even if bounded on something animalistic as he growled into the softness of my skin. 

‘Better warm up this cold lass.’ He mumbled in between open mouthed kisses, his lips now finally moving up to my face. First to my ear, then my cheek, all the way up to my nose, where he rested his forehead for a little while, breathing in raggedly as one of his hands cupped around my face. 

‘You want this then?’ His voice had become hoarse. 

I gasped as I felt his legs shift between mine, realising now how he had settled himself down for more. 

‘Tell me no.’ He said out of breath. 

‘Yes. Yes please.’ I gasped.

He pushed himself back a little so he could look me in the eye. The flames danced ever more wildly over his face from this angle. Smouldering fire burned in the darkness of his once blue eyes and I did what good women shouldn’t. 

I kissed the wild one. 

What followed was warm lips and bumping noses and awkward hands that fumbled with damp wool skirts. What followed also, was his toothy smile as he looked down upon me, admiring me in a way men didn’t do often. 

‘Yes?’ He asked. 

I nodded and breathed out, laughing softly. ‘Ye--’ 

Something prodded itself against my apex. ‘Ah!’ I gasped, but before I could scream at this intrusion, his lips moulded around mine. He took my breath in a most star strikingly slow pace. And as his kisses sweetened, his cock pierced. Deep and wide and stretching he slowly coaxed me to welcome him whole. To welcome the wilderness that coursed through his veins. That burned in his warm fingertips.

I realised then as I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. That there’s a reason why you should never go to where the wild ones live. A single star appeared from between the coal black clouds and I smiled. 

I should have never gone. For it makes a wild one of me too.

--

Author’s note: Henry in a kilt. Henry in a kilt. I repeat. Henry. In. A. Kilt. 

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[sevlgi]

sweetener

requested: no

group: stray kids

pairing: felix x gn!reader

genre: pure fluff

contents: baker!felix, awkward!reader, supervisor!chan, very very bad attempt at asking lix out, valentine’s day

warnings: none

synopsis: Being late for work is always worth it when there’s brownies involved, and the baker might just be able to change your life, and your Valentine’s day.

a/n: cheesy valentine’s fic :)

word count: 3.4k

Stumbling into Sunshine Bakery was a complete, honest mistake.

Of course you liked bakeries, especially the ones that smelled like pure happiness in the form of fresh-baked cookies and cakes. But a bakery was an exciting place, a stop that you didn’t have time for on your mundane, yet incredibly hurried commute to the worst job you’d ever worked in your life. 

“Y-yes, I’m on my way. No, I haven’t--” You sighed into the phone, mumbling apologies as you brushed into yet another person not looking each way before they walked. “I won’t be late. I promise.”

But just as you made your promise and sealed it with a press on the ‘end call’ button, you yelped out and fell to the ground, having been knocked over by someone passing by. To make matters worse, the other pedestrians continued to swarm, almost completely surrounding you as you tried to rush to your feet.

“Hey! Guys, let her stand up.”

“Sorry, Felix,” someone murmured after an unfamiliar voice called out. You turned your face up to the sky, almost as if you expected some kind of miracle to appear in front of you, but instead, you found a black rectangle just above your head and a pair of platform converse just next to you.

Then, a hand, which you accepted. Once pulled up, you were faced with a surprisingly friendly and attractive stranger-- slim, messy blonde hair, and the freckles scattered over his face scrunching with the force of his grin. The little plaque on his chest did read Felix, and as you were hit with the smell of warm brownies on the tray he held, you realized that you had managed to fall just outside the bakery that you had been working up the courage to enter for weeks. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I-- I’m sorry. For falling right in front of you.” You bowed, heat rising to your cheeks as you did. 

“Hey, no worries.” Felix’s voice didn’t exactly match his face-- he had a decently heavy Australian accent that only accentuated how deep his voice was, but he smiled in such a way that there was no way he could intimidate anyone. “Can I help you though? If you’re looking for a treat to bring a little sunshine to your day, I have lots of experience in that department.”

The cheesy line shouldn’t have worked for anyone. It should’ve made you cringe and apologize again before heading to work with a growling stomach, but for some reason, you couldn’t seem to do what should be done. Instead, you bowed slightly and let yourself be ushered into the bakery.

And somehow, the plethora of worries clouding your mind were set aside by the simple smell of pastries. Maybe it was a requirement to look like literal sunshine to be inside the bakery; after all, all of the workers and the customers wore a smile almost as large as Felix’s. He returned to the counter, though, and set his tray down before leaning on the glass display case to grin at you yet again. “So? See anything you like?”

“Uh.” You stopped yourself from saying something stupid and bent down to focus on the actual pastries inside. “The... the brownies? Those look really good.”

“You have good taste! I made those,” Felix laughed, pride evident in his voice as he pulled the doors to the case open. “Will that be one or two?”

“Two.” You watched him pull a paper box out, bright tangerine just like the menu hanging above him, and quickly added, “Could I get a coffee too?”

Felix nodded, turning to wave at someone. “Hey, Minho hyung! Stop flirting with Jisung and come make a coffee.”

Yet again, a pretty person appeared, this time a dark-haired man with sculpture-like features. He looked a bit angry as he ruffled Felix’s hair roughly, but he turned to you with a sweet smile that concealed his bullying of his coworkers. “Sorry about that. Americano?”

“Americano’s good,” you agreed quietly, handing Felix your credit card when he held his hand out for it. Over the roar of the coffee machine, you couldn’t hear Minho jibe at Felix, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at seeing the blond boy’s pout, either. “Uh, thank you. Both of you.”

“No problem! Stop in anytime,” Felix called out, waving and leaning on the display case again as you walked out.

As soon as you were hit with the cold, not-cake-scented air outside the bakery, though, you gasped and checked your phone for the time. 8:19-- “Shit. I’m late.”

Every time that you saw the face of Bang Chan, you cursed your luck with a passion.

It had nothing to do with Chan himself-- actually, you liked him a lot. He was the best supervisor in the entire department you worked with, but he just so happened not to be the one you worked under. He liked visiting all the different offices with a familiar dimpled smile, offering all of the workers the encouragement that their respective supervisors wouldn’t give.

So whenever word spread that he was visiting your office, you always made a point to be in the room, if only just to see his kind grin and catch a friendly wave. After the shitty morning you had, getting yelled at for being 5 minutes late, you made sure to be sitting securely in your cubicle at 5:45 pm for the dose of serotonin that you knew would come after seeing the nicest person in the office.

“Hey everyone!”

Chan’s telltale accent turned the head of every worker in the room; the chorus of “hello”s only widened his smile as he waved both hands, making sure to direct a smile at every single person. “I have a guest today, wanna see who it is?”

It felt remarkably like a classroom as everyone cheered, but you couldn’t help the grin on your face as you clapped too. Chan pushed open the door, revealing two people-- one of whom was very, very familiar. “Everyone, welcome Felix and Seungmin! They brought cookies for everyone.”

To your satisfaction (and slight impending embarrassment), Felix made his way in your direction with a box in hand, gloves on, and the same sunny smile from the morning. “Ah! I saw you this morning, didn’t I?” Felix asked when he reached you, holding the cookies out to you. “Chocolate chip cookie?”

“Y-yeah. Thanks,” you mumbled, accepting the napkin and the treat. “Sorry. Again.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s my fault too,” the blond boy shrugged, leaning on your cubicle. “I’m sorry, though, I don’t believe I caught your name yet.”

You pointed at the placard with your name engraved in black, but answered nonetheless. “Y/N Y/L/N, but don’t do the full name. I’ll think you’re my supervisor.”

Felix frowned, “Chan isn’t your supervisor? That’s a shame. Everyone seems to like him.”

“We do,” you laughed, shifting the cookie around on your desk. “I haven’t met a single person who doesn’t like Chan yet, we all wish he was our supervisor. He’s a lot better than Mr. Kim, anyway. You didn’t hear it from me, but we’re all only working for promotions so we can leave. When Chan brings us cookies, it only makes us want to leave more. ”

“I’m the one who’s bringing you cookies,” he protested, smiling in tandem with you. “Is working under Mr. Kim that miserable, though?”

You shrugged in response, fiddling with a pen. “Uh. It’s not fun, that’s for sure. It just kind of puts a damper on our jobs, even though he doesn’t show up to yell at us often.”

Felix pouted in thought, but when he spotted the other baker making his way towards the two of you, he smiled again and asked, “By the way, how were the brownies this morning? I like getting feedback from customers.”

“Wonderful, but I’m sure you didn’t expect anything else.” 

Before you could say anything else, though, you were cut off by the other baker, the one you remembered to be Seungmin. “Hey, Felix! Minho hyung wants us to get back soon, rush hour’s starting.”

Felix shouted back in response, then turned back to you with a grin. “I’m glad you liked them. Will you pop back in sometime? Tomorrow, maybe? I’m always in the shop if you want to see me, and I come to visit Chan sometimes, too.”

You wished you could say no; you had to be working towards a promotion that would get you out of the office and out of Mr. Kim’s grasp. You didn’t have time for bakeries or the bakers inside, just as sweet as the treats they made. But you found yourself smiling, nodding, as Felix pulled away to join his friend. “Yeah. Tomorrow morning, if I can.”

“Okay. Nice meeting you, Y/N,” he waved, jogging to catch up to Seungmin, who had already stepped out of the office with Chan.

As soon as he was gone and everyone around you was caught up in their work, you allowed yourself to bite into a cookie-- and instantly regretted it. Because with the warmth of it, the sweetness of the treat- you knew you’d get addicted. To the cookie, and to the sweet boy who had handed it to you.

Fuck.

You didn’t exactly know what made you apprehensive about stepping back into Sunshine Bakery, but you did know that your hands were sweaty on the strap of your bag. You knew that your lip hurt from biting down on it, you knew that your shoes were tapping impatiently, and-- you knew that someone was waving at you and opening the door for you.

“Why’re you standing outside?” he grinned. You didn’t recognize him-- he was shorter than both Minho and Seungmin, with a wide grin and blonde hair hidden under a beanie. “Waiting for something?”

“Uh. F-Felix?” you answered, cursing yourself for stuttering. “Yeah. I’m looking for Felix.”

His eyes widened along with his smile as he opened the door further, motioning for you to join the chattering crowd inside. “Ah, another one. Come on in, then-- Felix is inside, that’s why you don’t see him.”

Despite the fact that you didn’t answer him, the boy kept talking, following you into the bakery. “I’m Jisung, by the way. I think I saw you yesterday morning, before Felix called Minho away to make you a coffee.”

“Oh. I’m sorry?”

Jisung shook his head, making his way behind the counter. “No hard feelings. Minho needs some help anyway, he never works.”

“I heard that,” Minho grumbled, stepping out of the kitchen. “Oh, hey, Y/N.”

“You know my name?” you asked, brow furrowed. Thankfully, you’d arrived almost half an hour before you actually had to go to work, so you weren’t worried about your time limit.

The taller of the two boys nodded, reaching to wipe his hands off on a towel. “Yeah, Felix--”

“I heard my name and sensed something embarrassing,” the blond boy himself interrupted, walking outside too. But his face lit up at the sight of you, a smile crinkling his nose. “Hi, Y/N. I’m glad you decided to come.”

You flushed and nodded. “Hi, Felix. Um, could I get... the brownies again?”

“I’m sorry,” Felix frowned, peeking into the case. “We’re out of brownies today, we ran out of cocoa powder.” Jisung jabbed Minho in the side, and the two made their way into the kitchen again, arguing under their breath. The baker in front of you paid them no mind, asking, “Could I get you something else?”

“Anything you recommend,” you blurted out. “I... I trust you to choose something good for me.”

It should’ve been weird. That was a weird line, and you knew that if it had been anyone else, they would’ve been staring at you like they regretted meeting you. But Felix only grinned wider and nodded. “Okay. How does cupcakes sound?”

“Sounds great,” you breathed out and followed him over to the cash register. “Sorry, I’m kind of awkward.”

“Hey, I deal with Jeongin,” Felix shrugged. He handed you the pretty paper box and stapled a receipt on top of it before humming and typing into the register. “I can handle awkward. Have a nice day at work, Y/N. I have a feeling it’ll be great for you.”

You bowed again and accepted the box, wishing your cheeks weren’t flaming hot as you backed out of the shop. Jisung shouted something and waved once you were outside the shop, but all you could think about was that last line. What convinced Felix that your day was going to be great? After all, it wasn’t like he’d never visited the office, he had to know it was miserable.

But before you could think any more about it, you were pressing the elevator buttons like you did every morning, the numbers worn, and the doors closed in on you like the doors to hell.

“What. The. Hell?”

You stared at the cardboard box on your extremely bare desk, a contrast to the slightly decorated way you had left it just the night before. The box in your hands felt cold as you stood in a suddenly unfamiliar cubicle, all of your coworkers avoiding your eyes. “Did I get fired and no one told me?”

“Y/N?” someone called from the entrance to your department, saving the people around you some embarrassment. There was a woman standing at the entrance, with a sweet smile and long caramel hair that you would’ve appreciated had it not been for the idea of being fired hovering above your head. “Please pick the box up and follow me.”

Wordlessly, you did so, not bothering to wave goodbye to the others as you made your way into the hall. As soon as you were out of earshot, you blurted out, “Did I get fired?”

“What?” She flashed you a confused smile, stopping in her tracks.

“Did I get fired?” you repeated. You felt stupid standing there, your heels incredibly uncomfortable and the tangerine box carefully balanced atop your belongings growing cold. “I just arrived to see my stuff packed up.”

“Oh!” the woman laughed and shook her head. “No, no. You’re being transferred to Chan’s department, he requested it himself. I’m Sana, I’m his co-supervisor. He would’ve come to pick you up, but I lost rock paper scissors.”

And just like that, the smile reappeared on your face. Ever since you had met Chan, had arrived in the company, you had wished that you could work for him instead. On an all-too boring Sunday that shouldn’t have been spent office, your wish was fulfilled, and you bowed deeply to Sana. “Thank you so much,” you sighed in relief. Anything was better than being fired, especially this.

She shrugged and tugged you up, smiling, “It wasn’t my decision, but I’m glad to have you. You’re great, you know, we all thought you’d be promoted by now.”

Heat rose to your ears as you laughed, embarrassed, “Really? That’s a huge compliment, thank you.”

“Of course.” Sana pushed the glass doors to her department open and announced loudly, “Hey! We’ve got a transfer from Mr. Kim’s department today, Y/N will be working with us from now on. Give some applause or I’ll cut your salaries.”

Your new coworkers matched Sana’s joking tone by booing her, but you were met with some clapping and ‘welcome’s anyway. Sana shooed you to what you assumed to be Chan’s office and explained, “He talks to all the new recruits. Go, go, I’ll see you when you come out.”

“Okay.”

Chan grinned and waved at you when you entered the office. “Y/N! Glad to see you made it over okay, I hear Mr. Kim makes things difficult for some transfers.”

Shaking your head, you took the seat across from him. “Oh, no, I didn’t see him today. I thought I got fired, though, because no one told me.”

“Oh, no!” He laughed into his hands, and you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to be better, just by moving departments and supervisors. “I’m sorry, I should’ve emailed you or something. Felix just--”

“Felix?” You tilted your head in question, your fingers ceasing to tap on your knees. “What does my transfer have to do with Felix?”

Chan shook a hand, the smile still there. “No, you misunderstand. I was already planning on pulling you from the department, hopefully after you got promoted, but you told Felix about how miserable your job was, and when Sana went to ask your coworkers, they all thought the same. So I made the call to transfer you early.”

You could only blink at that, rather dumbly. You weren’t sure how you felt that telling Felix about how horrible Mr. Kim was managed to land you an early transfer, and you definitely weren’t sure how to respond. “Oh.”

“So,” he continued, apparently not fazed by your lack of a response, “I want you to take the day off. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m not sure if you have plans...”

No, you should’ve responded. You didn’t have plans, and you had to prove yourself to your new coworkers, but then Felix’s smile and the tangerine cupcake box sitting atop your new desk flashed in your mind. “Yeah. A day off would be nice, thank you,” you bowed, almost missing Chan’s outstretched hand.

“Of course,” he grinned. “Tell me if you need anything, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything, but just before you slipped out the door, you turned back. “Hey, Chan? One question. How cheesy is Felix?”

Finding materials for what was quite possibly going to be the cheesiest date proposal in your life (to someone who might not even like you back) turned out to take a lot longer than you thought it would. 

So by the time you finally managed to lug your proposal all the way to Sunshine Bakery, the sun was setting and you were hoping for your miraculous luck of the day to not fail you.

And thankfully, when you arrived, someone was just starting to turn the lights off and come outside. Someone with blonde hair, in a beanie and a tangerine apron, and someone who jumped slightly when he turned to find you outside. But Felix waved and opened the door for you with a huge grin. “Y/N, what’re you doing here? Late Valentine’s shopping?”

“Not exactly,” you breathed out, gesturing to the honestly heavy box in your hands. “Uh, I got you flours.”

You were sure that steam was practically coming out of your ears with how embarrassed you were; to be honest, you had never said such a cheesy thing in your life, and you had never wanted to, but Felix’s smile was practically touching his ears as he reached out to take the box from you. The little brown bags had heart-shaped stickers on them, and Felix looked like he was about to melt when he noticed the details. “Is this your incredibly cheesy way of asking a baker out?” he laughed.

“Depends,” you shrugged. “Is it working?”

Felix nodded mock-seriously and jerked his head towards the dimmed bakery. “It is absolutely working. D’you wanna come in?”

You moved to open the door for him, then followed the baker to the kitchen. He set the box of flour down with a grunt, but the grin never left his face. “It’s not going to be much of a date, but we have some great Valentine’s desserts prepped for tomorrow,” he explained and disappeared into the kitchen. “You can sit anywhere, by the way.”

“It’s okay, I’ve always dreamed of watching a cute boy bake,” you joked and sat down on the stools before the counter.

Felix’s voice traveled well even from inside the kitchen, echoing on the walls. “Really? You think I’m cute?”

“Well, I pulled that stupid date proposal off,” you grumbled. “I better think you’re cute.”

He didn’t respond, only arrived again with two heart-shaped cakes in hand and some icing smudged on his face. “Happy Valentine’s day, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Lix,” you smiled. There was more than one meaning to the ‘thanks’, and you assumed that the blonde boy understood as he handed you one of the cakes. 

In the mostly dark bakery, Felix’s grin and the LED lights of the kitchen behind him the only things lighting your way, Valentine’s Day was a hell of a lot better than you’d imagined.

[vminity21]

Beyond the Facade | knj

Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 10,958

Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+

Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.

Credits to: @suhdays​ for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!

The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.

It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.

Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.

"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."

Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.

Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.

Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.

Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.

"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.

"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"

His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.

Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.

It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.

Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.

"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.

"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.

"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"

"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"

"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"

"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"

"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.

"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"

"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.

You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.

There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"

You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.

It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.

Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.

Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.

Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"

"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.

It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"

It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.

-Four months earlier-

Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.

"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.

"You don't have to be sorry,"

"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"

A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.

Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.

"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.

"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"

Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"

A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"

"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"

When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.

"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,

"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.

By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.

"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.

"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.

The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"

"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"

"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"

"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"

"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"

"Since how? I-"

"Ask Hoseok,"

"You lost a bet didn't you-"

"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"

"With me around, you will,"

Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.

"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"

"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"

"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"

"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"

"You'd be surprised-"

Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.

The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.

Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.

Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.

"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.

The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.

Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.

"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.

"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"

"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"

The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.

"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"

"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.

"Anytime."

A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.

"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.

"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.

"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.

At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.

You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.

-Present day-

The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.

Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.

"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"

"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.

"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"

"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"

"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.

"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"

Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"

It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.

"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.

By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.

Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"

"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.

"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"

Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."

"Ta Ta?"

"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"

"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.

"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.

"I promise."

He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.

Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?

Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.

After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,

right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,

you finally have a name picked out for your little one.

-

2 months later....

"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"

"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."

"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.

"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"

There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.

Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.

Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.

"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.

Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.

"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"

You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.

"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.

Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.

It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.

"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.

"You are so annoying,"

"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.

"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"

You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"

Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.

"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.

"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.

"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.

"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.

"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"

"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.

"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.

The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.

Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"

"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.

"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.

The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.

"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.

It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.

Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"

"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.

"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.

"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"

"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.

"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.

"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.

"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.

His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"

You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.

Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"

He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.

"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"

Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"

"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.

"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.

"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"

It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.

"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."

Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?

Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"

Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.

"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.

"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"

Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.

"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.

"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

"I love you, too."

"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"

"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.

To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.

"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,

"Her name is Kim Taejun."

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: I Got You** {One-Shot}

Lewis Tan x Reader

Warning: Mild Cursing, Fluff, Mild to Moderate NSFW, Mild to Moderate Smut

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Lewis takes notice that you’re having a hard day, so he pushes everything to the side to make it easier.

Note: This is for @munteanhorewrites I hope this make you feel all fluffy, doll.  💜💜

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

 ***Mildly Interactive***

~~~~~~~~

The way you kissed him goodbye this morning was weighing heavily on his mind. He was so in tune with you that it was easy for him to decipher how you felt. Depending on the kiss he got, he could determine if you were happy, feeling flirtatious, sad, angry, or even annoyed. This morning’s kiss was a detached one that left the taste of melancholy on his lips. He’d wanted to pull you back to him and badger you until you told him what was wrong, but time was once again against him.

 Four hours into this shoot, and he was still at it. He’d never had more than fifteen minutes to himself, and even then, he was still working. Either it was doing small interviews and web appearances, or it was answering emails. He always tried to find a balance in his life. A balance to give you the attention you deserved, but the last few months had been difficult because his name was coming up more and more for potential roles, which meant many more meetings.

 Finally, with some time for himself, he dialed you. After three rings, you picked up.

 “Hi babe,” you said, your voice low and dejected.

 “Hi, princess. How are you?”

“Eh--,” you began on a sigh. “I’m okay. I’m just sitting on the balcony with Bear.”

 “Is she keep you good company until daddy comes home?”

 “Yeah, she’s always so sweet to me.”

 Even your voice now didn’t sound like your usual self. He could feel something was off.

 “What’s wrong, princess?”

 Again, you sighed, but you didn’t speak right away. Instead of speaking, he patiently waited for you to be ready to talk about it. He knew better than to force you to open up. You’d do it in your own time. After almost a minute, you spoke.

 “It’s just one of those days, I guess.”

 “Yeah? Tell me about it,” he coaxed on.

 “I just feel at a crossroads, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel all over the place, but like I’m standing still. I don’t even know if that made any sense.”

 He could hear the struggle in your voice and even felt the chaos going on in your head. His heart sunk, and just like that, his decision was made.

 “It made sense. How about we talk about it when I get in?”

 “Sure, baby, I’m sorry I don’t mean to bring you down while you’re working,” you began before he quickly shut you down.

 “I don’t wanna hear you say that again. You never bring me down. You’re the reason I’m always on cloud ten.”

 You snorted. “Babe, you mean, cloud nine.”

 “Nah, I said what I meant, princess. Cloud ten. You got me walking in the sky on a whole different level than anyone else. They wish they were me.”

 “You’re so silly. Get back to work,” you teased.

 “Y/N.”

 “Yes, baby.”

 “I love you. You know that, right.”

 “I know, babe,” you began to brush off.

 “No, I don’t think you do, but you will by the end of the day,” he finished.

 Once he ended the call, he got on the phone with his people to cancel the rest of his day. He didn’t care what it took. He had no intention of working for the rest of the day. It was strictly for you.

 Once the photo shoot was finished, he made a few quick stops to pick up things he would need. Plenty of your favorite candles. An overflow of your bath and body products from Lush. Your favorite order from the Japanese restaurant you always craved. Several servings of your favorite dessert and a few gifts. When he made it home, it almost six. Before bringing in the bags, he tracked you down, finding you still on the balcony in the bedroom.

 “Hey, baby.”

 Your smile was bright, but it never reached your eyes. “Hi.”

 He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “You smell like cotton candy, vanilla, and sugar. Where’ve you been?”

 Trying not to seem suspicious, he shrugged. “I just picked up a few things from the store. Have you eaten today?”

 You leaned back and hugged Bear closer, who was trying to reach him. Bending down closer, he allowed her to lick along his jaw.

 “Hi Bear, how are you? Have you been taking care of our lil’ mama? Yes, you have. Such a good girl.”

 For a few moments, both of you snuggled and scratched behind Bear’s ears, showering her with the same affection she always showed both of you.

 “So, did you?”

 “I had some tea and a muffin earlier.”

 “Princess,” he began scolding before you sighed then pouted those perfect lips.

 “Don’t be mad at me,” I couldn’t take that too.”

 “No baby, I’m not mad. I just don’t like it when you don’t take care of yourself. You mean everything to me, and I need you around.”

 You felt your heart swell from his words. You knew you meant a lot to him, but hearing him voice it always made your heart skip a beat. Turning around with the chair back between you, you flung your arms around his neck, holding him closer.

 “I love you.”

 “I love you too, princess,” Lewis whispered back.

 That was when you let everything out. You told him about the sleepless night you’d had, which he wasn’t even aware of. You told him about your worries, your fears, the anxieties that had reared their ugly heads, and held you captive all day. You held nothing back. The deepness of your anxieties and pain had him pulling you out of the chair, so you straddled him on the floor. He held you as you cried and let you use him as your teddy bear for as long as you needed.

 Once your sobs subsided, he proceeded to tell you all the things he loved about you, beginning with your kind and giving heart, the one he fell in love with first. He told you how much he loved your sense of humor and intelligence and loyalty to those you love. He even revealed a few secrets he’d held on to since the beginning of your relationship that would have told you how completely wrapped around your finger you had him. Nothing was off limits. He let it all out.

 By the time the sun had set over the horizon, you were staring at each other, neither in a rush to move or do anything else. He almost forgot about the night he’d planned—almost.

 “Give me ten minutes. I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing your nose and placing you on the floor.

 He rushed around your home to gather the bath products he’d bought and brought them into the bathroom to fill the tub. As he filled it, he didn’t think much of what ingredients were meant for what; all he cared about was the scent. He knew which scents would help with stress and mood, and those were the ones he focused on. As the water filled and the bath bombs fizzed out, he placed the candles around the bathroom and lit each one.

 Once he was sure everything was perfect, he went back to your bedroom and found you right where he left you, again with Bear in your arms. She loved the attention. Slowly he covered your eyes and led you to the bathroom, all the while you softly giggled.

 “What are you up to?”

 “Nothing. I just want tonight to be all about you. I want you to truly feel loved, taken care of, and safe.”

 “Aw, babe.”

 When he lowered his hands from your eyes, you gasped and brought yours to your mouth.

 “Oh my god, Lewis.”

 Before you was such a lovely sight, it brought tears to your eyes. The soft glow of the plethora of candles that were decorated around bathed the room in a romantic aura that had butterflies filling your belly. When your eyes dropped to the tiled floors, you found red and white rose petals leading to the back of the bathroom, where the dark bamboo colored flooring held the white porcelain tub.

 “Babe.”

 The tears in your eyes welled to capacity. Lewis dragged the pads of his thumbs just underneath your eyes to sweep them away.

 “Come on.”

 He led you along the flower path to the tub. The scent of plumeria, gardenia, vanilla, brown sugar, and a few other scents wrapped around you, making you moan.

 “Babe, this is so sweet,” you whined. When he smiled and showed off those adorable dimples, you playfully dug your pointer into them, deepening them.

 “Come on. Let’s get you in.”

Lewis stepped behind you, undid your robe, and helped you into the tub. As you sank down, you sighed out, relishing the feel of the hot water on your skin. Once you sat, you stretched and dipped your back to rest your neck against the cushion there.

 “Is it good?”

 “Yes, baby, thank you.”

 Instead of leaving, Lewis went behind you, sat on the raised portion of the floor, and picked up your bath gloves.  When you felt him begin to bathe you, you melted.

 “You’re going to give me a bath?”

 “Yep,” he replied.

 “Sure, you can handle that?”

 His smile was wide before he bit his bottom lip. “You know how focused I can be when I have a goal.”

 “And what’s the goal, baby?”

 Your eyes met. “The goal is to have the love of my life feel like the queen she is. So turn around, lay back, and let daddy do all the work.”

 You did as you were told, and Lewis did as he promised—he did all the work. Lewis rubbed your muscles and massaged out all the kinks and lumps your body held with expertise. You always knew he was good with his hands. He could handle every weapon with ease and skill. That skill didn’t stop there; it stretched far beyond martial arts and weaponry. By the time he’d drained the tub and rinsed your body off, you could have floated away from how lite you felt.

 He left you for a few minutes leaving you to wrap in a towel and make it back to your bedroom where you found your stock of body products replenished with a sweet note and gift box. Inside the gift box were a new robe and a sexy cami and short set. After lathering your skin with the lotion that smelled like coconuts, roses, and cocoa butter, you put the items on. When you turned around there, Lewis stood leaning on the door jamb, just quietly watching you.

 “How long have you been there?”

 “Since you popped that delectable thigh up there,” he said, nodding to the bed.

Smiling, you tried not to feel embarrassed. He’d been watching since the very beginning and hadn’t made one sound.

 “How many times have I told you not to used your creepy martial arts stealth against me,” you teased as you walked across to him.

 “Once or twice, but I get the best shows when you don’t know I’m there,” he cooed into your ear before he placed and kiss on your neck.

 “Mmm, you smell so good,” Lewis added, biting your shoulder, making you moan and melt against him. His hand slid down the curve of your back to grip your backside, again making you moan.

 “I like this,” he huskily mentioned.

 “Not sure who you bought it for, me or you.”

 Lewis’s grip tightened on your flesh, pulling you closer so you could feel the beginning stirs of his arousal.

 “Mmm, is that also for me?”

 You lifted a leg and wrapped it around him, making his grip change, so his fingertips gently brushed your sex. The action made both of you groan. When you felt his member thicken even more, you slipped your hand between you to rub your hand against his crotch. Lewis sucked in a breath, then grunted.

 “Behave, princess,” he said before you felt him pinch your clit, sending a hot red blaze of desire through your body.

 Lewis lowered your leg, turned, and led you out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When he brought you into the living room, you stopped in your tracks to find the biggest pillow and blanket fort you’d ever seen. Excitement bubbled in you, which had you jumping and screeching as Bear scurried by your feet.

 “Oh my god, baby. A pillow fort? Aaah!”

With that, you ran around the living room, looking at everything he’d managed to do. It was a small thing, but he knew how much you loved cheesy things like this. When you rounded to him, you leaped into his arms, wrapping your legs around him.

 “Oh, baby, thank you. I love it,” you said, kissing all over his face.

 “I’m glad you like it. It’s gonna stay up the whole week. It took forever.” Your smile was wide before you kissed him once, then twice. On the third kiss, you delved your tongue into his mouth and took control of a kiss you hoped showed him how much this and he meant to you. Lewis moaned on your mouth before his hands dropped to cup your ass. As if unconsciously, he angled you against his need, and in seconds you were making out and moaning. Lewis was the one to abruptly pull away and groan.

 “Let’s eat.”

 Dinner was amazing and perfect. While you ate, Lewis gave you complete control over what you watched. Not wanting to make him sit through some super sappy romance movie, you chose something with a good mix of action and romance. By the time you moved on to the second movie, dinner was finished, and you’d moved on to dessert. Again you melted when you saw just how much trouble he’d gone through for you today. The second gift he gave you was a gold bracelet with a heart with your first initial and his together, and the mandarin word forever etched on the back. That was when stray tears rolled down your face, to which Lewis whispered nothing but words of love, infatuation, and desire.

 Halfway through their third movie, your hands began their search for the warmth of his flesh. It didn’t take long for your search to go from innocent to complete debauchery.  You could tell your touch was having an effect when Lewis’s breathing sounded more and more labored, and the speed of his heartbeat increased underneath your cheek. The way his slim limbs looked in his boxer briefs had your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Slipping your hand down his abdomen and over every ab, you slinked your hand unto his underwear. Lewis groaned.

 “What’re you doing, princess?”

 “What does it feel like, daddy?”

 He groaned, bit his bottom lip, then slightly arched when you gently gripped his shaft.

 “This is supposed to be a calm night for you. it’s not supposed to be about--.”

 His words paused, and breath hitched as your hand traveled lower to caress the balls of his manhood.

 “God, you’re killing me, baby.”

 “What am I doing?”

 When he looked at you, the innocence in your eyes hid his member visibly pulsate. The helplessness you saw in his eyes had you instantly wet. You swung your leg over him and straddled him, letting the heat from your core sear his hardness, branding him as yours all over again. Lewis sucked in a breath and leaned back on one of the mountains of pillows.

 “We don’t—you don’t have to—I just wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to show you how much I love you,” Lewis rushed out with great effort.

 “I love you so much for everything you did today. You didn’t have to, and I appreciate it and you more than you’ll ever know,” you began.

 You then leaned closer to him so your face was right in front of his. He was close enough to kiss. All he had to do was take it.

 “It’s my turn to do something for you to show you how much I love you.”

 Once the words came out, Lewis’s lips were on yours. He kissed you intensely and passionately. It was a kiss that stole your breath. In no time, everything had flipped, including your body. You were now underneath him with your legs spread. As Lewis kissed you, he rocked his body against you, fanning the flames of your desire.

 “I love you,” Lewis whispered as you peeled his underwear off his hips. Lewis assisted you in sliding them lower until he’d kicked them off.

 Once you felt the heaviness of his need rest on your pubis, you moaned and wrapped a leg around his back. Lewis didn’t wait. In seconds he’d managed to pull off the shorts you wore and fling them somewhere in the room. From then, there was no need to go slowly.

 “Make love to me,” you whispered.

 Lewis locked eyes with yours and thrust forward, connecting your bodies. Both of you sighed out as if you’d found your sanctuary after a long day.

 “I love you,” you whispered on a strangled breath.

 His response was a kiss that spoke of nothing but languid need, while his thrusts said he needed you and needed you now. His thrusts were swift but deep, and they worked to drive you insane. Within minutes you were clinging to him, sinking your nails into his back. Every connection you clenched around him while panting his name. On every retreat, he whimpered yours.

 “You’re my world, Y/N.”

 You could see the truth of what he spoke in his eyes, and it brought you closer to the edge. Lewis sensed it and doubled down on his efforts to make you come undone.

 “Do you love me, princess?”

 “So much, baby,” you whispered before you gasped loudly.

 Your back arched, and seconds later, you were clenching around him as your orgasm tore through you. It was so powerful it dragged Lewis down with you. The two of you laid on the soft blankets of your fort, catching your breath. Lewis traced lazy patterns into your skin before he shifted onto his side, taking you with him. As you gazed into each other eyes, you fell in love with him all over again.

 “Thank you, baby.”

 “I’d do anything for you. Remember, I’m always here for you. You win, I win. You’re happy; I’m over the moon. You’re unhappy; my world is dark. Confide in me. I got you.”

 He kissed your nose and pulled you closer. It didn’t take long for you both to doze off completely exhausted.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[girl-among-mts]

'Wisp'

From the Reylomicrofic Hub

Vamp!AU

-----

As the sun rose, the grey clouds fell in, becoming a blanket of fog that clung close to the ground, obscuring most of the autumn morning.

After double-checking that his cloak and hood were firmly in place, Hux followed Rose out of the tavern and into the brisk nip of the town’s bustling main street.

For Hux, it was still uncomfortably bright; he detested being awake during the day. But she was right: it was far safer to travel when they knew their adversaries could not, and with her blood coursing through him, he could barely feel the sting of the diffused sunlight in his eyes.

He glanced her way.

Rose had tied her yellow silk handkerchief around her neck once again, obscuring the bite wound still healing beneath. It would fade unnaturally fast, but until then it was wise to conceal that there might be a vampire in the town’s midst. Even the most cunning of his kind had been known to fall to a hoard of angry humans, and with how deliberately cruel the Order was known to be, it was best to lay low.

His eyes lingered over where he knew the twin marks from his teeth still dimpled her skin. He could still taste her pulse, moody like spiced wine.

Wisps of her shiny, dark hair fluttered over her nape in the cool breeze, caressing the delicious slope of her neck.

Stars, he was hungry again, and he’s only just fed.

It was something about this woman, this human girl. It called to him like a taut, vibrating string. One high, long note.

She might have been his guide to safe harbor, but Hux was becoming increasingly convinced that he’d gleefully slaughter anyone who’d even think of laying a cruel hand upon her.

[stxrshxpxd]

“go take this to graham instead” x 90s!graham

Pairing: 90s graham coxon x reader 

Word count: 1.238

Warnings: alcohol use

* * *

“Hi,” Damon answered the door, his normal soft voice stained with a bit of confusion. It wasn’t too often I showed up unannounced at his front door.

“Hi,” I answered and the conversation came to a momentary halt. I fidgeted with the buttons of my long black coat and shifted my weight from leg to leg. It was early November and I was wearing stupidly little clothing under my thin leather coat.

“Can I come in?” I said and raised my hand to reveal a bottle of Damon’s favorite wine clasped between my cold fingers. He stepped back and made space for me to enter. He still had a confused expression on his face, his brows in a deep furrow and his lips slightly parted. I could hear his small sigh of confusion as I passed him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice softening again. He didn’t want to come off as rude or like he didn’t particularly enjoy my company. I knew he did. I turned to look at him and he reached up to rub the back of his neck just as I stripped the coat from my body. There was a small change in expression and his brows rose a millimetre or two.

“I just came to think of you. And I wanted wine.”

I shrugged. I was warming up to his presence and I took a few steps into the kitchen. There was an odd sadness and strange feeling inside me, but I wanted to drink it away and I wanted to do something stupid. Now it would be rude to insinuate that Damon was stupid, but he was my something. I turned around again and studied his body as he followed me into the barely lit up kitchen. He was no Graham. Graham and him were polar opposites in some aspects. But he was damn fit, I had to admit it to myself. He was in his regular pair of blue jeans, dirty white tube socks and a dark grey hoodie.

“Did you dress up like that just to have some wine with me?” Damon asked in a chuckle as he turned his two kitchen window lamps on. He was suspicious - rightfully so - which was why he hadn’t hugged me hello and why he had been so taken aback by my visit.

In rage I had picked out the silkiest sexiest dress I could find and with a swig of vodka on its way down my throat I had paired it with a pair of low heels that didn’t match the dress at all. I knew Damon couldn’t tell anyway.

“Yes,” I said simply and plopped down on one of his chairs. Instead of following my lead, he went to go get two glasses. I watched his broad back and the dimples on his spine that were exposed as he reached for the wine glasses on the top shelf.

“Well don’t get me wrong, I like it a lot, but I just wasn’t expecting you. Wasn’t expecting you to look like this in my kitchen on a Saturday night,” Damon pondered as he made his way back and now sat down next to me. “I mean, Graha-”

“We broke up,” I snapped. We hadn’t. We’d had a nasty fight a few days ago and hadn’t spoken since. His stupid words had played on repeat in my head ever since and the anger had built up and built up. Until it exploded and resulted in a black silky dress, ugly shoes, two wine glasses and Graham’s best friend’s knees touching mine. I wanted him to know how I had dressed up for Damon and the things I had planned loosely in my head. I had even allowed myself a naughty fantasy about Damon as I swallowed my second, and last, shot of vodka.

“Did you really?” He sounded upset. “Are you okay?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight,” I ignored his question and moved to sit on the edge of my seat. I let my hand fall to gently hold the inside of his thigh.

We hadn’t even got to opening the bottle but we both already felt drunk. To be fair, I was actually tipsy on vodka.

His lips were soft against mine and for a minute it felt right. It felt like it was what I needed. But when Damon touched the outside of my bare leg, despite how soft and warm his hand was, it felt wrong. Damon noticed my flinching and pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Damon shook his head softly but didn’t say anything. “I was angry and I’m just trying to get back at Graham. This was stupid.”

I felt an overwhelming wave of regret come over me and I instantly stood up. Damon followed. Without thinking much, he pulled me in for a hug.

“Hey, it’s alright. I understand.”

His hands stayed on my arms and caressed them gently as he looked at me with a tilted head and big kind eyes.

“Go take this to Graham instead.” He motioned at my body and the dress. He smiled weakly and I couldn't help but mirror his small grin. “He’s an idiot for letting you go. Tell him I said that.”

“Thanks,” I whispered and laughed tiredly.

“You can keep this. I know it’s your favorite,” I said and poked at the bottle on the table.

“Thank you,” Damon laughed and gave my arms one last squeeze before sliding his hands off my body.

Not much more was said before I was outside again in the streetlights’ glow and the light raindrops that had begun falling from the sky. For a long time I didn’t know whether I was walking home to mine or to Graham’s place, but when I was stood on his street and looked up to see that one of his rooms was lit up, I couldn’t help myself. It felt just as impulsive as it had felt to stand outside Damon’s door, but this was calmer. I had fallen into a sad almost-drunk state. Even though he was the source of all my anger, I also knew he was the only one whose embrace would help.

I had rung his doorbell and it wasn’t long until he stood there in front of me. He wasn’t as confused as Damon, but he was even quieter than Damon had been.

“I miss you,” I sighed. I didn’t care that I was the first one to come crawling back to him. Graham looked like he had been wanting to crawl back to me for the past five days anyway. His eyes looked bigger than normal - sadder definitely. He had a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants on and the cold breeze from outside made all the hairs on his arms stand. He invited me inside with his body language and I accepted the offer.

As soon as the door was closed and the London noises were left outside, Graham was the first one to pull me in for a hug. My cheek pressed against his firm chest and I thought about Damon again. I felt awful about kissing him and I hugged Graham tighter in hopes that it would wash away the guilt. His scent did cloud my mind in a nice fussy warm way. It wasn’t enough to help me forget, but it was something.

“I miss you too,” Graham said finally.