#i don’t care what your reasons are you are wrong and I hope you fall down the stairs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nadvs · 6 months ago

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home before dark (part eight) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

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You can hear gentle taps on the window behind you. At some point since you got back from the marina, it must’ve started raining. You’ve been too absorbed in your time with Rafe to notice until now.

Even though you’re trying to process what he just said, your instinct is to hope for his sake that it doesn’t storm. Because your instinct has always been to worry about him. His was always to avoid you. And now, if you actually heard him right, you know the real reason why.

You’re suspended in time as you stand in front of him in your kitchen, trying to silently compel him to look at you again. But his eyes are focused on the floor.

You were just upstairs, touching in the most intimate way, giving each other the best kind of pleasure. Now, in a matter of a minute, a chasm has opened up between you again. Rafe’s chest is rising and falling faster with every second that passes.

“What’d you just say?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe shuffles in place, his temples beginning to throb. “Fuck. I was never going to tell you.”

“What do you mean because of me?” you echo his words, your legs weakening.

Hearing your voice sound so faint, a harsh contrast from the soothing, careful way you always speak to him, makes his chest tighten.

“Goddamn it,” Rafe mutters. “Why’d you have to push me to talk when I - I said I didn’t want to talk?”

His feet carry him to the other end of the counter just to create some distance. He figures it should be easy because for so long, it’s been second nature for him stay away from you. But he hates that he can’t touch you right now. This moment is too tense, the words he said too ugly.

Rafe finally meets your gaze. Every other time he thought you looked sad or scared or broken is nothing compared to the way your face is knitted in misery right now.

His darkest secret is out. He told himself he’d take it to the grave. But he just changed everything. He shoved a dagger into the heart of the only person who truly cares about him. And there’s no undoing it.

“What do you mean because of me?” you repeat.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. He knew you were wrong; he’s not good like you said he is. This proves it. He’s sick. There’s something wrong with him because a good person wouldn’t blurt what he just said out, no matter how much pressure they were under.

He nervously grips the edge of the counter.

“Rafe,” you urge. His head hangs low.

“It was right before your birthday,” he mutters. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I-” You inhale a sharp breath. “Of course I remember.”

After what happened, you cancelled your eleventh birthday party. You didn’t want to celebrate anything for years afterwards.

“Did that have… something to do with it?” you ask.

Rafe’s body goes cold. It had everything to do with it.

He begged his mother to go. She told him there were warnings on tv about a storm and that they could go the next day, that there was time, but he had to be such a brat about it that she finally agreed. She always gave into him.

“You never stopped talking about how excited you were for it,” he says, “and I wanted to get you something great and I made her take me. And you…”

His gaze hardens. This was supposed to stay locked inside him forever. At some point, behind his back, you got the key.

Your heart is in a vice. You’re waiting for him to say this is a cruel joke.

“You know what?” he huffs. “I don’t even remember what I was so determined to get you. I just remember…”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, a short, boyish whine escaping his mouth as he hears the sound of the tires skidding in his mind, over and over again. They didn’t even make it to the store.

You want to rush to him. To hold him. To let him dampen your shirt with his tears again. But you can’t. You’re frozen.

This is why Rafe never wanted you in his life. You’re not just a reminder. It was never that simple. You’re the reason for his suffering. And you can touch him and laugh with him and kiss him as many times as you want, but you’re sure he’ll never see past it.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he kept this from you. It’s clear. He didn’t want to hurt you. You thought he was being cruel all these years, but he was protecting both of you from this very moment.

You imagine the boy you knew, in the car, watching his world end because he wanted to be a good best friend to you. He was always sweet. Always doing what he could to show the people he loved that he loved them. And he paid for it in the worst way.

You’re crashing into a painful realization, as if the lights were just turned on, burning your eyes after you’d been sitting in the dark for years.

“I…” you begin. But you’re weak. Speechless. You hold the back of a chair at the kitchen table for stability.

For once, you’re not touching Rafe to comfort him as he cries. On top of the shame and frustration and guilt he’s feeling, a sense of loneliness sinks into him. He doesn’t know if he’d push you away if you came to him. But you’re not even going to try?

The sharp, comfortable feeling of anger overshadows it all. Like always. Being mad is the most familiar state for him to be in. Especially when it’s himself he’s angry at.

“And I just kept asking until she agreed to take me,” he mutters.

You can hear it in his voice that he blames himself, too. And if there’s anything you can do for him, it’s take away his pain. It’s what you’ve wanted to do for him for so long.

Guilt rips you into you. A hot tear rolls over your cheek. If Rafe has to blame you, if it’s defence mechanism, his way to cope, you can live with being the bad guy in his story. Because you love him. You’re afraid you always will.

Your phone rings in your pocket, blaring in your kitchen. You’ve had it on loud so you couldn’t miss a call from your parents just in case.

You clumsily rush to grab it and turn the sound off. You hang up before even looking at who’s calling.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say.

“Who is it?” he says more sternly.

You look at the notification. Your lawyer. You called her after the cops found the tracker on your car to update her. You’re sure you discussed everything you needed to. What’s she doing calling at almost nine at night?

“My lawyer,” you say.

“Call her back,” he orders.

“I can do it later.”

Rafe only says your name, his mouth a firm line. You hate that he’s talking to you like this again, as if he’s mad at you for existing around him.

But he’s right. She might have some important news. Your hands are shaking as you tap on your screen to call your lawyer back on speakerphone. She answers after the first ring.

“Sorry I called so late, but I wanted to let you know,” she says, “I hounded the police and I finally just got confirmation that they took Ty into custody.”

“He was arrested?” you say. You meet Rafe’s eyes. In the midst of all this, for a second, he forgot you’ve been living in your own horror.

“Yes,” she replies. “He’s been charged with the unlawful installation of a tracking device. They traced it back to him. They don’t always arrest for a misdemeanor, but I think the fact that you already had an order out against him helped.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Thank you.”

“Again, I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” she says. “You did the right thing fighting back. I wanted to keep you updated. Call me if you have any questions. Have a good night.”

“Thank you,” you say. “You, too.”

You hang up the phone and realize you don’t even feel a morsel of relief that Ty has been arrested. Because Rafe just dropped something so earth-shattering on you that you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same again.

You don’t even discuss the call you both just heard. You stick to your private vow. You have to. He can blame you. He can hate you. He can feel whatever he wants if it’ll ease his suffering.

“You’re right,” you say quietly. You sit down, unable to hold yourself up any longer. “You’re right. You just wanted to be a good friend. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

It doesn’t feel entirely dishonest taking the blame. They were on the freeway because of you. If you and Rafe never became friends, if you never fell into his life, he’d still have a mother.

His words from earlier when this all started ring in your head. We can’t do this. This conversation? Or everything?

“It’s always going to be hard for you to be around me, isn’t it?” you ask, desperate for the clarity. Because if it’s true, it’s better you know now.

Just this morning, he said you were friends again. Then in your room, you did something people who are much more than just friends do. And now, you might be doomed to going back to being nothing. Unless he denies it. Again, hope finds its way in your heart like it always does when it comes to him.

Rafe’s stare is distant. He grips the countertop even tighter.

“I don’t know,” he says. Truthfully, he exists in two places at once when he’s with you. He feels both peace and disarray. Both bitter and sweet.

You nod slowly, standing on wobbly knees to find a paper towel to wipe your tears away with. You stand by the sink with your back to him, rubbing it beneath your eyes.

I don’t know. It’s the worst answer he could give you. At least if he gave a definitive yes or no, you’d know what the future will look like. But I don’t know is what keeps hope alive, and you know by now the pain that hope can bring.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, muffled. “If you never met me…”

You think back to sitting next to him in the police station waiting room. He wrote in your birthday on that form without hesitation. He didn’t even need to think about it. And you know now it’s because he’s doomed to remember that date forever.

“You don’t have to stay here,” you finally say. “You can go home. I get it. I get why you never wanted to talk to me.”

You let out a shaky sigh, regretting the years you spent trying to reconnect with him. You were unknowingly hurting him every time.

The guilt sitting on your heart is so heavy that you’re sure it’ll never leave you. While you thought he kept you at a distance because of grief, because of the role you played in reminding him, you realize that was only scratching the surface.

Rafe’s eyes are trained on you on the other side of the room, watching your body tremble.

“I’m staying,” he says resolutely. You turn to look at him from across the kitchen. His eyes gleam with tears.

“He was arrested,” you reply. “He can’t hurt me.”

Rafe studies you. You look how you did the night this all started, when you rushed to him, asking him to pretend to be your boyfriend.

“But you’re still scared,” he says.

“I think I’ll be scared for a while,” you admit. Ty is still out there. Even behind bars, he’s someone plotting to own you. You try to push past the fear for Rafe’s sake. “But he can’t hurt me.”

“I told you that I’m staying with you until your parents get back,” Rafe says.

You feel like you’re spiralling. You know he kept this from you for a noble reason, but the realization that he always blamed you feels like it’s chipping away at you by the second.

“It’s okay,” you say. “Your job is done. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“Yes, I do,” Rafe counters. You grimace. He’s being so stubborn. The rack of guilt, shock, and confusion has your mind racing.

“Why did we do… what we did upstairs?” you ask. “Why did you say you felt something for me?”

Rafe exhales slowly. Kissing and touching you like that was euphoric. He wants that feeling, again and again, without the ugliness of your shared history following both of you.

“Because I do,” he answers honestly. You twist your lips in sadness.

“You do,” you say, “but you don’t want me in your life?”

Rafe’s quiet, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, you feel selfish and ashamed to be confronting him about this after he revealed something so painful.

“Forget it. I’m sorry,” you say. You toss the damp paper towel in the trash. “If you want to stay, you can. But if you want to go, I get it. I’ll be in my room.”

You start to tread out of the kitchen, a sniffling mess at this point. You feel worse than ever for pestering him with your questions after he opened up to you.

You’re sure you’ve both spent more time crying than smiling since you tumbled into each other’s lives again. Maybe it’s best for both of you to be nothing. It’s not what your heart wants, but being together seems to bring you both more pain than happiness.

You turn, figuring this may be your only chance to tell him how sorry you are. If tonight’s your last night together and you go back to being strangers after this, you need him to know.

“I know nothing I say or do can make it better, but I’m so sorry for everything you went through. And I’m so sorry I was the reason for it,” you say, meeting his gaze from across the room. “I never stopped missing you. But I get it. We don’t have to be friends or… be anything. We’ll go back to how it was. This time, I won’t keep bothering you.”

Rafe watches you leave. The weight in the pit of his stomach gets a million times heavier. He would do anything to take back telling you the truth.

You’re curled up in a ball under your blanket, your throat growing sore from crying. You tried to break this arrangement with Rafe off the day he told you that you were always going to remind him of what happened. You told him all you do is hurt each other.

But he pushed. He said he wanted to take care of you. You’re almost angry at him for not letting you end it then. But as painful as the truth he dropped on you tonight is, you’re glad you know.

You’d rather take the blame for him. You’d rather never have to wonder what he meant when he said you did do something wrong, but not on purpose.

But you are angry at him for kissing you. For touching you. It gave him another piece of your heart that you can never get back.

Rafe is still hunched over in the kitchen. He fucked up. You’re upstairs, devastated, because of him. Since this started, you’ve been so worried about bothering him. You said he tolerates you. And he put so much effort into making sure you didn’t feel like a burden, but he just undid it all.

The way you apologized was like you were saying sorry for existing. Whatever he had left of a heart had been wrung out. He needs a distraction. But you can’t give it to him, because it’s you he needs the distraction from.

You eventually get to a point where you can’t cry anymore. You’re numb. You spend every passing minute hoping Rafe will come into your room to try to convince you that you can make each other happy.

But he doesn’t. You fall asleep alone.

A loud bang wakes you up. Your instinct tells you it’s Ty. A few seconds later, consciousness gets a hold of you and you remember your phone call. He’s in police custody. He can’t be here.

You sit up in the dark. Another bang outside. It’s still raining but the noises aren’t rolls of thunder like a few nights ago.

Rafe didn’t leave. If he did, he would’ve needed you to disarm the security system. You check the time. It’s nearing three in the morning.

Another thud. At this point, you’re scared. You need to find him.

You’re already panting when you reach the guest room. You knock on the ajar door.

“Rafe?” you mumble.

To your relief, you hear his tired hmm? from the other side of the door.

“I keep hearing noises from outside,” you say. “I think someone might be out there.”

The bed squeaks with his weight shifting and a moment later, you hear the unmistakable sound of him pulling out and pushing in the magazine of his gun. It adds yet another layer of fear onto you.

“Where?” Rafe asks as he steps out of the room.

You guide him in the dark to the window by your bed. You watch him lean to look out the glass, the gun in his hand.

“It can’t be him, right?” you finally say with a thin voice.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t want to say what’s been turning in his head since you got the call from the lawyer. He didn’t want to scare you. But it’s exactly why he stayed.

“Rafe?” you say.

“Someone could’ve bailed him out,” he finally replies.

Your heart is in your throat. The stress of tonight made you completely forget about that possibility. If Ty got bail, of course his wealthy family would pay it. You feel stupid for urging Rafe to leave. And grateful that he didn’t.

“Well, if he - if he did, wouldn’t the police make sure he doesn’t try to get to me?” you ask.

“The police are idiots,” Rafe says flatly, still angry over how passively they treated you when you filed the restraining order, how thoughtless they were to not check your belongings.

“If he’s trying to get in,” you say shakily, “the alarm will go off. It automatically alerts the cops if it isn’t turned off within a minute. Please, if you… have to shoot, do it just to stop him. Don’t kill him.”

The thought of putting Rafe through watching someone else lose their life is too much for you.

He turns to look at you, barely making out your features in the moonlight shining into your room. How could possibly want to spare the life of someone so evil?

“He’s not worth it,” you say. “I don’t want it weighing on you for the rest of your life.”

Rafe looks at you in awe. Again, you put him first. In this moment, where you’re surely terrified, you’re worrying about him carrying the weight of taking someone’s life. Because he already carries that weight for his mother. And tonight, he put that weight on you, too.

“Okay,” he says. “But if he tries to hurt you, I don’t know how I’ll control myself.”

A deafening, chilling smash of glass echoes from downstairs. The shrill security alarm starts blaring. Your hand finds the crook of Rafe’s elbow as your entire body stiffens.

“Stay here,” Rafe says. “Don’t come out.”

“Be careful,” you stammer. “I’m calling 911 just to be sure.” You watch him leave as you grab your phone to report a break-in, giving the operator your address.

A few seconds later, the security system stops ringing. It’s been shut off. And you know it wasn’t Rafe who did it.

Rafe reaches the bottom of the stairs, gun pointed ahead in the dark. His eyes land on Ty, standing by the door, his hand on the security panel.

“Get the fuck out or I swear to God, I’ll shoot you,” Rafe threatens.

“I just want to talk to her,” he replies tersely.

“Get out,” Rafe repeats.

You can make out muffled conversation. You stand by your door, opening it an inch to hear what’s happening downstairs.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through for her? Where is she?”

It’s Ty. He actually did it. He actually found a way to get to you again. Rafe is the only thing keeping him from you right now. You feel like you could throw up from how scared you are.

“You have five seconds to leave,” Rafe says. Your ex sputters a laugh.

“Or what?” Ty reaches below the hem of his shirt. “You think you’re the only one with a gun?”

Your blood runs cold. Rafe is facing a maniac you’re sure wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. This could end in someone getting shot. Someone could die here tonight. And if it’s Rafe, you won’t be able to live with yourself.

It’s a crazy, desperate idea, but you’re confident you can manipulate Ty. You know him well. You know what he wants to hear. He’d do anything to think he can have you again. And you need to buy time before the police get here.

“Put it down,” Rafe warns.

“Is this gonna be a game of chicken?” Ty laughs again, his gun gleaming in his hand.

Your entire body is tense as you step out of your room.

“Ty?” you call out, slowly coming down the stairs. Rafe stiffens.

“I told you to not to come out,” Rafe says sternly, his eyes still on your ex.

“These are the lengths I have to go to for you, huh?” Ty calls up to you. “Just to get you to talk to me?”

It’s still dark in your home, both men just murky figures.

“I’m turning on the light,” you say, knowing that surprising Ty won’t do any good.

You reach the bottom of the staircase, standing behind Rafe, and flip the switch, washing the entrance of your home in bright lighting.

You have to stifle your gasp when you see Ty. His face is swollen from Rafe beating him up last night. His clothes are muddy from creeping around your home in the rain, finding a way in. He must have jumped the gate.

The realization that he knows the security code crashes into you. He’s surely seen you punch it in from his visits back when he was your boyfriend. You never thought he’d be committing it to memory.

This whole time, he knew it. Something you thought was protecting you wasn’t. You wish you’d thought to change the code after the break-up.

“Go back upstairs,” Rafe says, his teeth gritted.

You place a hand on Rafe’s back, out of Ty’s sight.

“Let’s talk,” you say to Ty. “Put the gun down and let’s talk.”

“You know the cops came to my house and arrested me in front of my parents?” Ty says, looking utterly unhinged. “Why the fuck did you do that to me?“

His gun is still aimed in your direction, but it’s a little lower in his shaky hand. You’re getting somewhere.

“I’m so sorry. I was scared,” you tell him.

“And you let this asshole,” Ty says, eyes darting to Rafe, “hurt me. You just fucking watched him punch me and punch me over and over and then you left. You left with him.”

“I’d do it again,” Rafe mutters. He sees pure red.

“Hey,” you whisper to him. You force your anxiety away, knowing you need to calm Ty down, not provoke him.

You drop your hand and walk past Rafe, who harshly says your name. His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. You look at him.

“Stop,” Rafe mutters to you, still holding out his gun at Ty. “Go upstairs. I’m handling this.”

“I won’t let you hurt him,” you say, loud for Ty to hear. “I don’t want you anymore.”

Rafe knows you’re trying to trick Ty to avoid anything horrible happening here tonight, but your words make everything in him twist in pain.

You pull away and approach Ty, your heart drumming against your chest. You meet his wide, frantic eyes.

“Hey,” you say softly, walking towards him. “You were right. He was just a rebound. You know me better than anybody.”

“You’re lying,” Ty mutters. But he’s lowering his gun. “You’re just a liar.”

“Ty,” you say, mustering up forced affection. You reach him, standing mere inches away. His gun is at his side now. The thought of him raising his hand again is petrifying.

“I was scared,” you continue, “but now I can see how much you care about me. It’s why I came downstairs. I heard your voice and I realized how much I miss you.”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says. “This whole time. And what’d you do? You got a new boyfriend. You called the cops. I - I love you. I gave you everything.”

His eyes are sharp. Poisonous. He genuinely thinks he’s done nothing wrong. To him, tracking you and taking photos of you and forcing contact with you was okay. He wants you as an object to possess. Not as a person.

“I know. Nobody can love me like you do,” you whisper, echoing the words he screamed at you when you broke up with him. “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. I’ve always been stupid, right?”

It’s taking everything in Rafe not to charge at Ty. If he makes one wrong move, he doesn’t think he can restrain himself from putting a bullet through his chest.

Rafe watches your hand drag down Ty’s arm and he grimaces, sure you’re rattled with fear.

“Can you put this down?” you ask, your hand stopping at his, cupping the gun. “I want you to hold me like you used to.”

“You do?” Ty says, his anger slowly disappearing from his face. Relief pools through you.

“Of course,” you reply. Your hand is shaking as you find the barrel of his gun, slowly pulling at it. “I need you. I make bad decisions when I’m not with you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Ty says, a desperate grin spreading on his face. “You finally fucking get it.”

You force a smile at him, breathing out slowly as you take the gun out of his grip.

Rafe watches with relief when he sees you holding Ty’s gun at your back.

It’s terrifying facing him, but at least there’s no gun pointed at Rafe right now. It dawns on you just how much you love him. You came down here simply to try to keep him safe. To keep him from having someone’s blood on his hands. You approached someone you’ve been running from. You put your own life in danger. Willingly.

You pull back, forcing another smile as you gaze up at Ty.

“We’re getting out of here,” Ty orders.

You look up at him, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in your eyes. There’s no way you’re going anywhere with him. You know you have a second, maybe two, to get away from him. And you can only hope it’s enough.

“Let me get my shoes,” you say, trying to laugh as if you’re excited, as if you’re endeared by him.

You move as fast as you can, kneeling to pick the gun up off the floor and rushing back towards Rafe.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ty spits behind you.

Rafe has never been more relieved in his life than when you reach him, cowering behind him, Ty’s gun in your hands.

Maybe you should use it, but you can’t fathom trusting your aim when you’re shaking like this.

“You lying bitch!” Ty shouts, striding forward.

“One more step!” Rafe warns louder.

Ty doesn’t listen.

“Look away,” Rafe mutters to you. You curl up behind him, making yourself small, shutting your eyes.

The gunshot pierces the air, echoing through the foyer, making you quiver. You want to wake up. Because this has to be a nightmare. This can’t be real.

You hear Ty moaning in pain. Your eyes are still shut when sirens blare in the distance.

It’s a blur. People rush in. The door is left open, rain drumming on the pavement. You hear another hard thud and you realize you dropped the gun that was in your hands.

You feel Rafe turn and he’s saying something to you, but you can’t understand it. A shiny, yellow badge gleams in the light.

“…happened tonight?” a stranger asks.

“Can’t you do this another time?” Rafe mutters, irritated.

“We need a statement.” You realize the police officer is talking to you, a notepad in his hand. You meet his eyes.

“What?” you breathe.

Rafe looks down at you with furrowed brows, worried about you and pissed off that you’re being questioned.

“Can you tell me what happened tonight?” the cop says.

“Her ex broke in,” Rafe says. “He had a gun. You guys arrested him, then let him go. There’s your statement.”

The police officer sighs, keeping his eye on you.

“Have you been physically harmed?” the cops says.

You find the strength to shake your head no.

“Do you have somewhere else to sleep tonight?” he asks.

“Yes,” Rafe answers for you. “It’s better she’s not here in case you morons let him out again, right?”

The cop shakes his head in frustration, but seems to decide that not engaging with Rafe’s angry sarcasm is the better choice.

“We’ll be in touch, miss,” he says. He turns all his attention to Rafe. “Can you answer some questions?”

“Fine,” he mutters, then looks to you. “You wanna go pack?”

All you can hear is your own quick breathing as you pack an overnight bag. You’re trembling, dropping things, moving as if you’re going to be late for something.

Your house is a crime scene now. You still don’t know what happened with Ty. You couldn’t look.

It’s a few minutes past four a.m. when you reach Tannyhill. You and Rafe haven’t said anything to each other since the cops left.

The enormous house is dark and quiet as you trail him up the stairs. You know it’s irrational, but still, you fear Ty will pop out from behind a corner and try to finish the job.

Even after your harsh conversation earlier tonight, you hope Rafe will let you sleep in his bedroom. You stop in the upstairs hallway, unsure of what to do next, but his hand finds yours, leading you, making the decision for you.

Rafe’s bedsheets smells just like him, warm and strong and comforting. You’re turned on your side, your back to him, as he settles behind you.

Now that you’re lying down, you realize just how hard you’re shaking. Your body is still trying to catch up with your mind.

Rafe notices.

“It’s over,” he says, voice low. “You’re alright.”

You nod, exhaling once you feel his hand rest on your back. His fingers gently run back and forth between your shoulder blades. You find your words, finally.

“I know you had it under control,” you whisper, “but I couldn’t just sit in my room and do nothing. I was scared of him but I was more scared he’d hurt you and I knew I could trick him and I know you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not…” Rafe interrupts with a sigh. “I’m not mad at you.”

He’s mad at how unfair everything is. And at himself. He should have never told you they were in the car because of you. The conversation with you in your kitchen is another memory he knows will haunt him.

You nuzzle into Rafe’s pillow. He’s still slowly stroking your back, granting you a sense of safety.

“Listen, I won’t lie. I wish you never came downstairs,” he admits. It killed him seeing you face someone who’s been torturing you. “I didn’t know what he was gonna do. But you… you knew how to deal with him. I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do it for me.”

Your heart is still pounding. Of course you had to do it for him. You’d do anything for him.

“You’ve been looking out for me,” you say quietly. “I wanted to finally return the favor.”

Rafe chews on his lip. He’s pretty sure you take care of him more than he does you.

“What happened?” you ask. “Did you…”

“Got him in the leg,” Rafe says. “They arrested him. Again.” He would’ve killed him if you gave him your blessing to. He knows that for sure.

You nod. Your eyelids start to flutter shut. He keeps rubbing your back until he’s sure you’re asleep.

For once, you start your day next to Rafe. He didn’t leave you to wake up alone this time. He’s pressed up behind you, his arm draped over you, his hand over yours. You feel his chest rising and falling against your back.

The room is washed in orange sunlight. The clock on his nightstand tells you it’s almost noon.

You don’t know what to do from here. You promised Rafe that after this ended, you’d stop bothering him. And he didn’t tell you not to.

You look down at his hand on top of yours. Your eyes trail over his fingers, once again thinking about everything he’s done for you. He’s kept you safe, taken on responsibilities for you, given you pleasure.

Minutes later, Rafe shuffles behind you, slowly waking up. Once he realizes he’s holding you, he pulls away, clearing his throat.

You sit up and collect your bag before you go to his ensuite bathroom, not making eye contact. After texting a friend to ask if you can come over, you mentally rehearse what you’ll say to Rafe as you brush your teeth.

He’s sitting up in bed when you come out. He can see how tired you are, but you still manage to be so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hi,” you say. You take a breath, standing over him, your bag at your chest. “There’s no way I can thank you enough. You saved my life. If I was home alone, he would’ve taken me somewhere and…”

You look down, knowing you shouldn’t spiral into the what if’s.

“After what I did to you, you still helped me,” you say, quieter now. “I know you think low of yourself, but you shouldn’t. Because of you, I’m alive right now.”

Rafe stares up at you, his hair tousled over his forehead. Only you can give him this feeling of pride in himself. This feeling that maybe he has a reason to exist other than getting wasted and taking out his anger in every way he can.

“It wasn’t all me,” he replies. “You’re tougher than you know.” You offer him a small, thankful smile.

“I’ll get Sarah to drive me to a friend’s,” you say. “And I’ll stay there until my parents get back tonight.”

You start to walk towards the door, but his words stop you.

“I never stopped missing you, either,” he says tensely, remembering your words from last night. “Just so you know.”

You look at him with doleful eyes. Rafe’s heart pounds faster when you drop your bag and approach him. You duck, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hugging him.

He wraps his arms around you and closes his eyes until you pull back and take your warmth with you. You can both feel that this is goodbye.

You’re grateful not only because he kept you safe from Ty, but because he allowed this arrangement between you to end cordially. He opened up one last time, giving you the comfort of knowing that he still cared about you even after the accident he blames you for.

He missed you, too. It gives you a reprieve from the pain, even just for a second.

You have a long phone conversation with your lawyer when you arrive at your friend’s house. Ty’s back in custody. There’s no option for bail now. He’ll be incarcerated until the trial. Your original court date has been nullified, as a judge has granted you the permanent protective order given the circumstances.

You give your official police statement, emphasizing as many times as you can that Rafe acted in self-defence and protected you. When your lawyer confirms he isn’t being charged with anything, you’re more relieved than ever.

You’re in a haze when you finally see your parents again. Telling them everything feels like you’re recounting a horror movie.

Your home is still deemed a crime scene, so your parents book a hotel room. You’re lying in the firm, cold hotel bed when your phone buzzes with a text.

It’s from Rafe. It’s almost midnight and you saw him this morning, but it feels like it’s been weeks. You doing ok?

You reply: yes. my parents got back and we’re at a hotel. are you ok?

He doesn’t text back. You take that as a response in itself. Whatever you had is officially over.

The next afternoon, you can finally go home. The window Ty broke is repaired. You have an irrational fear of seeing his blood on the foyer floor when you walk back into your house, even after your parents confirmed with the cops that the scene has been cleaned up.

Rafe is trying to get used to the way life is now. It feels wrong not being around you. You’re all he thinks about. When he wakes up. As he goes to sleep.

He should have replied to your text. But how can he put into words just how not okay he is? He kept it under wraps for years, then opened up to you just to ruin things between you all over again.

It’s been almost a week since he’s seen you. Other Kooks are gossiping about what happened, spreading theories and lies. They know to quiet down when they realize Rafe is in earshot.

He’s not sure if people think you’re still together or not, but they seem to know better than to blabber about it when he’s around.

It’s Saturday night and people are scattered across the massive wraparound balcony facing the beach behind Tannyhill. Rafe’s preparing a line of coke, falling into his old escapist habits.

He misses you. He’s afraid things really are back to how they were. He wants to see you. He just needs to figure out how to make it happen.

It’s loud and crowded. You haven’t left your bedroom in days, but finally, you’ve stepped outside after your friends encouraged you to come to a party. It made it easier to accept the invite when you heard it was at Rafe’s house. You want to check on him, even if it’s from a distance.

You can feel people’s eyes on you when you enter the party. It’s uncomfortable, knowing your trauma is being gossiped about and picked apart.

Ty’s in jail, but sometimes that isn’t enough. You can’t get it out of your head, the way he looked when he broke in, frantic as he waved his gun around.

You’re gazing out at the setting sun as you stand on the balcony, slipping into your thoughts as your friends chatter around you.

You’re worried you’ll be afraid of your ex forever. The safest you’ve ever felt was with Rafe and that was temporary.

You instinctually look around for him. You don’t see him, but then there’s a break in the crowd, and you spot him sitting at a table, hunched over, ready to do a line.

It’s like nothing has changed. You see Rafe the way you’ve seen him throughout your adolescence, chasing a high and acting like you don’t exist. Even after everything that happened between you.

Rafe’s about to breathe in his first line of the night. Until his eyes meet yours. And then everything goes quiet.

His fear that things are how they were before is shattered. They can’t be. Because instead of looking away, he doesn’t want to tear his eyes off of you.

You think you’re giving something to him by giving him space, but you’re not. You’re taking happiness and peace and love away from him.

Your breath catches when you feel a rush of tears thickening in your throat. Your heart is broken from so many things, but it’s mostly from the role you played in breaking his.

You excuse yourself and rush into the house, hopeful nobody will see you cry. You’re not even sure where you’re going. You just know you want to be alone.

You end up in Rafe’s room, simply because it’s the only room in the house that gives you the level of comfort you’re craving. You gaze out of one of the windows as you try to calm yourself down.

You remember entering this house for the first time. His father and yours fell into conversation like old friends do and Rafe was at his mother’s side, just barely leaning on her, enough for comfort but not so much that he looked like he needed the crutch.

You kept glancing at each other while the adults talked and when he finally offered you a shy smile, you smiled back, and you don’t know if he felt it, too, but at that moment, you knew you were going to be friends.

You sit on his bed, hands on your knees as you breathe through the hurt.

The doorknob turns. Rafe flips on the light when he comes in, his eyes boring into you. You quickly wipe away your tears. He was the last person you expected to follow you.

“Hey,” he says, shutting the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” you say. “I can go.”

“No,” Rafe says. “What is it?”

You can’t put him through the honest answer.

“Sucks how everyone’s talking about it,” you say. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less about the gossip.

Rafe squints for a moment, slowly making his way to you, settling on the bed an inch away from you, his cologne drifting in the air.

“Is that really it?” he asks. You nervously clasp your hands, looking down. He knows that’s not really it. You can see from the corner of his eye that he’s still watching you.

You don’t answer.

“I hate myself for telling you,” Rafe mumbles. You wince at his words.

“You shouldn’t. It’s better that I know.”

“It’s not.” Rafe anxiously rubs his forehead. “It sounded so fucking wrong when you said it’s your fault. When I heard you say it out loud, it…”

It turned everything inside out. All he’s been thinking about these past few days is how and when to tell you this.

“You know when you said maybe it was your fault he wouldn’t leave you alone?” he asks.

You think back to that night when you confessed how terrible your relationship with Ty had been. You had told Rafe it’s easier for you to take responsibility because then you’re not just a victim.

“I can’t let you blame yourself like that again,” Rafe says. “You were a kid.”

“You really don’t blame me?” you ask.

“I don’t.” His words take a weight off of your shoulders.

“You were a kid, too, Rafe. You can’t blame yourself, either,” you say softly. “And if anyone else does, they’re wrong.”

You can tell by the way he grimaces that he’s been made to feel guilty for it by someone else. His father. You have no doubt about it.

“It’s different,” Rafe mutters.

“It’s not,” you reply. “You’re just as innocent as I am.”

Rafe knew his mother well. He knows she spent her last moments worrying about him, regretting that she made the decision to leave the house with him. She was an amazing mother. He’s sure she died thinking she wasn’t.

“I didn’t tell her I loved her,” he says, voice starting to falter. “The last chance I had.”

Your chest tightens.

“You know how you always picked flowers for her on our way up to the house?” you say. “And how she was so happy every time you gave them to her?”

The memory makes the corners of Rafe’s lips turn up in a smile. He didn’t know you remembered that.

“You spent time getting her flowers just to make her day, over and over,” you say. “You don’t have to tell someone you love them for them to know. You showed her in a million ways. She knew. I promise.”

Rafe’s been living in an unforgiving cycle of hating the world, looking for blame, all to keep from accepting the truth that there was no sense to what happened. No reason. It just happened. And it left him in pieces.

Your words give him a quiet feeling of freedom that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The cycle is addictive and comfortable, but it keeps him moving in circles. Getting him nowhere.

Talking about his mother doesn’t hurt as bad this time. Because you brought up a good memory, and he doesn’t picture her in the car like he always does, but he sees her downstairs, pinching his cheek, smiling, putting wildflowers in a small vase.

Rafe’s eyes find yours again. All he can feel is a warm, stirring gratitude sinking into him. His lips part for a second before he can reach for the words.

“Thank you,” he says. “How’ve you been?”

“It’s hard,” you admit. “I keep thinking I’m going to run into him. We’re just waiting on the trial to start and I wish I knew what’s going to happen.”

Rafe takes a deep breath. He’s terrified of letting you hear how dark his thoughts get, but right now, he’s as sure as he can be that you’re the one person in the world who wouldn’t look at him with judgement.

“I wanted to kill him,” Rafe mutters. “I would right now if I had the chance.”

He looks at you, scared as he awaits your response. You tilt your head and gaze at him with sorrowful eyes.

“I think if someone was doing something like that to you,” you say, “I’d feel the same way.”

Rafe knew you cared about him, but to know you feel just as intensely for him as he does for you is a relief. He’s still not sure he deserves it.

“How have you been after everything?” you ask.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his words rushed. “I keep wanting to text or call but I don’t know how to say it.”

“How to say what?”

“How much I regret it all,” he says. Rafe combs a hand through his hair, heeling forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Every single time you tried to talk to me, I was such a dick to you. I’m sorry.”

You’ve imagined him saying this, but you thought it’d always stay a daydream. As you think about everything he’s told you, about how uncontrollable his thoughts can be and how badly he needs distractions and how utterly lonely he’s been, you feel nothing but forgiveness for him.

“You know that photo I took down?” you say. He nods, picturing the image of the four of you on the beach. “What happened, happened to that little kid. I think he handled things the only way he knew how.”

Rafe sits straight, tears threatening to form. You never run out of compassion for him. You’ve always been here, reminding him he’s human and that it’s okay to hurt and to need help.

His eyes are on yours again, and this time, he’s looking at you like he did the night before he kissed you. It’s like life is returning to his features, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks.

He recalls your words from your last night together. But you don’t want me in your life?

“I want you in my life, alright?” he says. He ducks his head just a bit, looking at you with a mix of infatuation and nerves. “If you still want to be in it.”

Your lips quiver with an endeared frown as you gaze at the multifaceted, complex, passionate man sitting in front of you.

“I do,” you say. Because the past few weeks have been so stressful, all you want right now is clarity. “You mean as a friend?”

“No,” Rafe scoffs, a smile quirking on his face again. “No. If you want that, we’ll do that. But I want more. Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up.”

You gaze at him through your lashes, feeling like you might just melt at the soft way he’s looking at you and speaking to you.

“Believe me,” Rafe says, “that I’ll be different. For real, this time. I don’t…” He sighs. “I never want you feeling like you’re bothering me. It’s the opposite. Every minute I’m not with you is just… it’s hell.”

He licks his lips from nervousness. He doesn’t like that you haven’t said anything yet.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

You smile at him, bringing your hand to his, feeling that his knuckles have completely healed now. This right here is the moment you think you might be able to let go of the fear and instability and pain that’s existed between you for so long.

“I want more, too,” you tell him. He looks at you with furrowed brows almost like he’s in pain, like waiting for this has actually been hurting him.

Rafe hopes his impatience to kiss you isn’t too much for you when he leans forward, laying his lips to yours, but you meet him with the same hunger.

He holds you, cupping your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb as your lips weave together. His tongue runs against yours and you raise your hands, one resting on the crook of his neck while the other runs over his hair.

With a quiet moan of pure desire, Rafe kisses harder, moving even closer to you so that your eyelashes overlap.

He separates to close his lips on your neck, trailing hot, desperate kisses over your throat. Then, Rafe’s fingers rest on your hips, fingertips dipping under your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” he asks huskily.

“Yes,” you breathe.

The slowly burning flame between you has sparked into a wildfire now. You feel the fabric of your top slowly dragging up your body, making you dizzy.

Rafe watches in awe as he pulls your shirt off you, all of his senses going hot when he watches the way your chest is rising and falling, the way your bra looks pushed against your body. He dips to kiss your neck again as he holds you at your waist.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he whispers, “or if I need to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper back. Your hand drags over his hard jaw to pull him up to your lips again. Rafe is intoxicated by this feeling, by the promise of pleasure, by the pure joy of being wanted.

Your lips quietly smack together as his fingers skim up the side of your body, over your shoulder, down the line of your bra strap, finally wandering over your chest.

He massages you gently, earning breathy moans from you. With eyes still shut, you find the top button of his shirt, pulling it out of its loop slowly.

Your kisses grow even more impatient as you unbutton his shirt, moving down his chest, finally reaching the bottom. Your fingers slip under his collar, pushing his shirt down his shoulders.

Once Rafe’s shirt is on the floor, he leans against you, gently guiding you onto your back on his soft bed, still kissing you. You run your hands down the firm curve of his back, making him shudder into your mouth.

His fingers dip under your bra strap, feeling desperate to see you. His forehead presses against yours as he pulls back.

“Is this okay?” he rasps.

You nod and your breath hitches when he pulls the strap down over your shoulder and dips to kiss where it sat. His groin already feels so tight that it hurts.

Slowly, he lowers to kiss the valley between your breasts, making your heart pound even harder. When he finally pulls down the cup of your bra, seeing you bare draws a stunned, sharp intake of breath from him.

You rake your hand through his hair when you feel his hot mouth on you. You moan softly and the sound of you revelling in the pleasure he’s giving you puts him in an even deeper daze.

Rafe cups your waist and drags his hands to your back. You arch to give him just enough space to unhook your bra, and once he has full access to your chest, you shut your eyes as his tongue and hands roam over you.

He leaves wet kisses all over your chest and comes back up to capture your lips again. His movements are languid as he rests his hand between your legs and suddenly, your clothes feel suffocating. You’ve never needed someone more.

Rafe drags his fingers over you, pressing in gentle circles. You spread your legs wide as he hovers over you, holding himself up on his elbow.

His eyes are on you, full of lust and want, imagining how you’ll taste if you let him go that far. He sinks to dip his fingers beneath the band at your hips, pulling the clothing down your legs, taking his time.

He settles over you again, putting his hand back where it was, and even though there’s still one more layer of fabric to strip, he can feel you so much better.

You whimper as he drags his fingers over you, and then he lowers again, his head between your legs.

You meet Rafe’s gaze when he kisses you right over your panties, and the intimacy, the pure vulnerability thickens the air even more.

“Can I?” he mumbles, his breath warm. You nod in desperation.

He slides the last piece of clothing you have on off of you, and when his eyes drink you in, his heart pounds loud in his ears.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, dipping to kiss your inner thighs before finally tasting you. You breathe out shakily as his tongue curls against you, as his hands hook around the tops of your thighs, resting on your hips.

Your whole body is hot and trembling as he kisses and sucks and licks, worshipping every bit of you.

Rafe can’t get enough of you. He just started and he already dreads the thought of stopping.

Your hands sit on his and he squeezes your fingers as he buries his face against you, holding both your hands, gazing up to see the bliss written in your pretty features.

He shifts to bring one of his hands where his mouth is, gliding over you, working both on you to bring you to a mind-blowing climax that leaves you moaning.

Rafe holds himself up over you again, kissing you, letting you taste yourself, as you eagerly unbutton his jeans. He helps you pull his pants down and when you grip him over his boxers, he nearly whimpers in need.

You stroke slowly, your hand wrapped around him, the other pushing against his bare chest to gently lead him to lie on his back.

You drag his boxers down, looking at him with pure arousal. His face is twisted in pleasure when you put your mouth on him, tasting him, taking him in completely.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you if he tried. You slowly pick up your pace and he knows if you go any longer, he won’t last.

“Can we…” he rasps. You’re trembling in anticipation, already knowing what he’s asking.

You shift higher, resting on your knees, your bare bodies pressed together as you kiss him.

You lower your hand, holding him, dipping against him to just barely meet each other. It’d take just one buck of your hips to feel him inside you.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes,” he groans. “Go as slow as you need to.”

You nod, shuddering as you position yourself and slowly sink onto him. You moan in unison at the sensation of your bodies meeting this way.

When you finally take all of him in, you pause to revel in the feeling, breathing heavily, your cheeks brushing.

“I love you,” Rafe says, his deep voice weaved with awe.

You pull back to look at him, not sure if you heard him right. You take in the color of his eyes and the beauty of his edges and your heart has never felt like it was glowing until this very moment.

“I love you, too,” you half-whisper. He almost can’t come to grips with the fact that you said it back with such certainty. Like you have no doubt that he has a place in your heart.

You roll your hips, taking your time to adjust to him. His hands are at your waist as he enjoys the slow ecstasy of your warmth.

You hug him tightly as you slowly move up and down. Eventually, you can feel him tensing beneath you, and you want to give him the control to reach the pace he needs.

You lift off of him, kissing him before you shift onto your back. He doesn’t waste any time to settle over you, slowly pushing into you again.

You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve for Rafe, while he’s kept his caged. He thought he didn’t even have one anymore. But you remind him that he does have this side of him, that it still exists, that he wants to give all of it you.

“I love you,” he rasps again. “I love you. I love you.”

Bliss overwhelms you as you tenderly kiss his forehead. He gently rocks forward and back, filling you perfectly as his thrusts slowly quicken.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers into your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you say, wrapping your legs around him. His breaths quicken as he moves faster, writhing over you into a climax that makes him groan.

Your bodies are glistening with sweat, your breaths heavy. Rafe’s weight doesn’t leave you as he collapses in pleasure.

“Is it okay if I stay like this?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. His face is nuzzled into your neck, panting as he breathes you in, still inside you, living in this perfect moment with you.

Rafe has felt homesick since he can remember. Even within the walls of his own bedroom. But you and the feeling you give him are home. Safety with no exceptions, love with no conditions.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” he mumbles against your skin.

“Exist,” you say with a gentle laugh.

Rafe plants lazy kisses against your neck as you hold him, slowly coming back to reality. There’s a whole party happening in his house, but in his world, it’s only you and him.

When he gets up, he isn’t prepared for how empty he feels when he loses the feeling of you wrapped around him. You lie next to him, facing each other with tired smiles.

“How was it?” he asks. The question sends you into a fit of laughter.

“You heard me, right?” you say, almost embarrassed from the sounds you made.

Rafe smirks and moves even closer to you, kissing you as you both lie on his pillow. You rest your palm on his face, gently tapping at the deep dimple in his cheek with your finger.

“You should show these more often,” you say.

“What?”

“Your dimples.”

He laughs, thinking to himself that he’ll do anything you want him to if you’ll keep loving him. He’s drunk on the feeling of the simplicity of being with you. It’s easy and pure.

Rafe asks if you want to shower together, and soon, you’re in his ensuite, standing under hot water ebbing over your skin.

Every movement between you is a slow expression of love, your bodies curved together as you share kisses and hold each other.

At one point, he’s clinging onto you, his lips pressed on your shoulder, and you’re holding him like you did the night in your house when he finally opened up completely.

Rafe is overcome by every emotion he’s feeling and it’s the first time in years that he cries without urging himself to stop. Because you’re here and you know everything and you still don’t want to leave.

You hold each other in bed wearing nothing but towels. He asks you if you want to go back out to the party and is relieved when you tell him you don’t.

“I’m falling asleep,” you eventually say, your legs tangled with his as he holds you. “I should go home.”

“No,” he says. “Why? Stay. Sleep here.”

You text your parents that you’re sleeping over. You know they’ll assume you’re staying in Sarah’s room, since you’ve done it so many times.

After you put your phone on Rafe’s nightstand, you snuggle into him, your head resting on his shoulder. You yawn, getting goosebumps from the way his fingers trail up and down your arm.

“Need a distraction?” you ask.

“No,” Rafe replies tiredly. For once, his mind isn’t racing. The mix of chaos and calm he thought he felt with you is no longer a mix at all. It’s just calm. It’s just peace.

You wake up in Rafe’s arms, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek and his breaths on the top of your head. It feels unreal recounting last night, remembering the amount of times he told you he loves you.

You shift slowly to get out of bed, putting on your bra and underwear and slipping into his bathroom. He’s sitting up in bed when you come back out. His eyes immediately trail down your body, a smile growing on his face.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re just…” Rafe exhales, resting his arm out on the bed in a way to beckon you to come back. “Perfect.”

“You mean as a friend?” you joke. You settle back into bed on your knees as he chuckles.

“Fuck no,” he answers, making you laugh. “Do you have to leave?”

“I don’t,” you say. Your body warms when you see the relief on his face. Now that you’ve sealed the rift that lived between you for so long, you can see just how badly Rafe wants you around.

But it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore. This feels right. Like you were meant to be with him all along.

“Would you wanna go down to the water?” you ask.

He nods. It’s like your kids again; he’d go anywhere you want just to see you smile.

It’s a windy morning by the sea. The sun is covered by clouds as you sit on the private beach next to Rafe. He drapes an arm around you, rubbing your arm to keep you warm. He feels like now that he’s been given permission to touch you, he can’t stop.

“The hours we spent out here,” you mumble. Rafe gazes at your profile as you look out at the horizon.

The dark blue sea makes you think of all the possibilities, of everything to come. You turn to catch him staring.

“I didn’t…” Rafe gently shakes his head. He didn’t know this was possible. “You know how people say they can feel someone around them after they… after they die?”

You nod. He feels guilty as hell with what he’s about to say.

“I never did,” he admits. Your face drops in shock and sadness. You can’t imagine how lonely he’s felt. “But right now, it’s like… it’s like she’s about to call us up to eat. I can feel her here.”

You feel like your heart is whole and broken at the same time. You lean to kiss his cheek over and over, the waves crashing in the distance.

“I need to stop trying to forget her,” Rafe says sadly.

He glances down at the sand, and you can tell anxiety is starting to grip him. You take a deep breath before you speak.

“I think she’d understand why you did,” you say. “What do you think about getting her flowers?”

Blue eyes find yours. He hasn’t visited her grave in years. If he does today, he’ll need you with him.

“Yeah,” he says simply, dusting the sand off his jeans as he heads to the patch of grass by the boardwalk.

The cemetery is quiet and tranquil. You drove over on his motorcycle, holding onto him tighter than you needed to. Your shoes pad over the paved walkway, feeling more and more nervous as you approach where she rests.

The headstone isn’t as big as Rafe remembers, but he figures it’s because he was much smaller when he visited last. He starts to cry as soon as he sees the photo of her in the center of the plaque. He forgot that was there.

Tears burn your eyes when you watch him slowly drop to his knees, his hands splayed on the lush grass.

You read the epitaph over and over again. When love is eternal, life cannot die.

Rafe forgot that he was holding the flowers he picked and he realizes he broke some stems, but when he looks at her photo again, he puts the flowers right at the corner of the headstone, knowing she was always happy with any bouquet he gave her, no matter the condition.

You sink beside him, resting a hand on his back.

“Should I talk?” he stammers. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You do whatever feels right,” you reply.

“Can you talk?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say. You’ve been yearning to talk like this with him for years. “You know you have her smile?”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you say. “It’s one of the reasons I love seeing you happy.”

Rafe nods, a tear dripping off his chin. He needs you to keep talking.

“And I remember she was always winking at me,” you say. “I don’t know if you saw.”

“She did that because she knew I had a crush on you,” Rafe mumbles. You smile sadly, rubbing his back.

“I’m pretty sure she knew I had one on you, too,” you say. “She was so smart and so sweet. Everyone could see how much she loved being your mom.”

Rafe offers you a grateful smile.

“I miss her,” he says, his voice brittle.

“Me, too,” you reply. “I’m sorry. I can go back to the parking lot if you want?”

You’re offering to give him time alone here. And to his surprise, he nods. He can do this. You kiss his temple and give him the moment he needs.

Rafe is sitting in silence for a minute before he finds the words. He stares at her photo.

“I’m sorry I made you drive that night,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry I always got mad at you when you called me your baby. I just wanted to grow up and you told me to enjoy being young and you were right.”

He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry I dug myself into a hole and tried to forget you. But I think she’s right. You’d understand.”

He cracks a small smile, remembering when he first told his mom he liked you, how nervous and giddy he felt.

“Still want to marry her,” he says. He can hear the way she laughed when her ten-year-old son told her he hoped you’d be his wife one day, but he’d still want to live at home so he’d beg for you to move in. “She never left my side, mom. I gave her every reason to but I think she saw how much I was hurting.”

Rafe promises her he won’t let so much time pass before he visits again. And when he finds you standing by his bike, he holds you so tightly that he feels your heart beating against his.

Everything is different for him now. He hasn’t had the comfort of permanence in his life for a long time. He can’t believe you want him, even after you’ve seen the worst of him.

Rafe never takes his hands off of you. At every party, on every date, he always has to be touching you in some way to remind himself that he has you for real.

It takes a few tries, but he manages to quit coke. And eventually, he quits waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for you to decide he isn’t worth the effort.

He’s with you every step of the trial. The lawyer says Ty getting five years in prison is a win, but he thinks the only win would be a life sentence.

Eventually, the trauma loses its power over you. You feel safe. Not because your ex is locked up, but because Rafe is with you.

You stand by him for everything. Every breakdown he has, every time he sinks into his grief, every storm that reminds him of the worst night of his life. You never leave.

You love him for long enough that he finally believes if someone as amazing as you can see something in him, it must be there.

Epilogue

You didn’t ask for much for the wedding. One thing that you were sure about was that you wanted an event artist, someone to paint the day on a canvas to capture it in a unique way.

Rafe is happy to to along with it, but then again, he’s like that with everything when it comes to you. You could never ask too much from him. He’ll forever feel like he owes you for never giving up on him.

The banquet hall is massive and beautifully decorated, and you can hardly hear your own thoughts over the crowd’s chatter and elegant music. The day has been a whirlwind.

When the artist waves you over, you take Rafe’s hand.

“Want to see the painting?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says, beaming at you simply because of how excited you are.

You had secretly asked the artist to include Anne in the painting. When your eyes land on the canvas, seeing her drawn in with everyone else who stood at the altar warms your heart.

You look up at Rafe, whose mouth is just slightly agape. He stares at his mother’s image, smiling behind him, then looks down, scratching the back of his neck and finding your hand before he leads you away.

“Just a second,” you say to the artist before you let Rafe take you to a dressing room past the hallway.

He shuts the door behind you, facing you with glossy eyes.

“Did I mess up?” you say worryingly. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to surprise you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Hey,” Rafe says softly, hands on your cheeks. “I love it. I just didn’t want to cry in front of everyone. I’ve been barely keeping it together today.”

You laugh in relief, tipping your chin so he’ll kiss you. His lips meet yours. You’re pretty sure your guests could tell he got teary-eyed when he watched you walk down the aisle, but you’ll spare him that detail.

Rafe finds relief from your touch, like always. His mom was here today. He felt it. He feels her all the time now. And you’re still a reminder, but in the best possible way, because you show him that he can remember the good parts. That he can feel love even after someone’s left. That he doesn’t need to carry guilt. That he can look forward to the future.

Apart from the second he became your husband, this is the best moment you’ve had today, because it’s just you two, just like it was when you were kids on the beach, enjoying each other’s company, never wanting to part.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note thank you to everyone who stuck with this series 💘 ps did you know tumblr has a text block limit? learned that the hard way lmao. so i’m sorry that some paragraphs got long! hated to sacrifice my structure but had to do it to keep all 10k+ words in 😋

#this is about 10k+ words so get cozy 🤭#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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peachesofteal · 1 year ago

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: 2 of 2 for sickfics. Requested by multiple.

At first, Simon thinks the sound of his cellphone is an explosion.

It doesn’t register completely in his dream. It starts as a slow beeping sound, like a ticking, and then morphs into everything else, the usual. Explosions and blood, screaming and crying amidst the rubble, dust swirling in the air. In the dream, he doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know how he got there, only knows that he was looking for you, searching the faces and the limbs of the deceased for any sign of you and Emma, picking through slabs of concrete until the crying got closer, until it sounded like it was right on top of him, or underneath him, somewhere he can’t see but-

“’lo?” “Simon?” He squints, adjusting for a split second, before shooting straight up in bed.

“I’m here.” He told you to call, nearly begged you to ring him if you needed anything after he left your flat earlier. You were still in awful shape, but managed to get in the shower, and Emmaline had been fed and put back down to bed. He was able to help you with your dishes, washing and stacking them where he hoped they went, tucking the bottles upside down on their drying rack. There wasn’t more of a reason to linger in your flat. He didn’t want to be a nuisance.

“I’m s-sorry, did I wake you?” You sound upset. Still heavily sick, throat clogged with a cough, but your voice is distress ladened, sour with fear. You sound like you did that day the guy followed you in the park.

“No. What is it?” He fumbles for his jeans, sliding them on, phone tucked between his ear and chin. The mask is in there, he double checks, and he’s still trying to coax it out of you when he pulls his sweatshirt on.

“It’s Emma… she’s- she’s not getting any better and I don’t know what to do, I need to take her to hospital.” You’re crying, panicked, Emmaline screaming through the walls, and his skin breaks out in a cold sweat. What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she getting better? You’re still talking in the background, anxiously explaining her temperature and the reasoning for something medical he doesn’t understand, enough time for him to make the very short trip to your front door. His fingers twist around the handle, grateful it’s locked, frustrated it stands between him and the two of you. “- and what if I waited too long and something really bad has happened and I just know she must be so uncomfortable and I’m a terrible mum I just didn’t think that taking her to hospital was the right thing, there are so many germs already there and what if-“

“Hey, listen. Listen to me, love.” He tries to jog your attention, snapping you free from your spiral. “Everything’s going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Can you open the door, sweetheart?” He coaxes you, gritting his teeth at the sound of your harsh breathing, combination of your tears and what he’s sure must be a chest infection making you gasp a little bit, like you’re running out of air. He hears the click of the deadbolt, and the scrape of the chain- door all locked up, just like he taught you. Good girl. “That’s it.” He encourages, waiting for the turn of the handle.

You’re hyperventilating on the other side, still gripping the phone tight, crying baby in your arms, all bundled up like you’re preparing to take her outside… except you’re wearing a thin pair of pajama pants and a t shirt, frantic look in your eyes, missing a shoe.

Without thinking, he steps forward and pulls you into his chest, snuggling Emma between you and him, careful not to squish her, but keeps you close with a hand on the back of your head. It’s all instinct, something that’s been wired in the back of his mind, sleeping dormant for so long. He’s not quite sure how his hands know to give you comfort, but they do. Just for you, for Emmaline, and he lets himself fall into it, murmuring something soft into your hair, pulling her from your arms as he encourages you to get a jacket on, helping you with the one sleeve, making sure you both get your hats, helping you get her settled in the carrier. He keeps a hand on you the whole way to the car, your nerves about installing the base easily soothed when he shows you he knows how to do it, (and fails to mention the youtube videos on quick install that he’s been watching recently, just in case) settling her and then you in, even reaching over to buckle your belt as you lean over car seat, anxiously distracted, watching your baby. “Alright, ready?” He asks you gently, and you look to him, eyes wet with tears, limbs heavy. The need to reassure you, soothe you, screams in his head, and he takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. “It’s going to be alright.” I swear. I’ll burn the world if it’s not. “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you. I promise.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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romaevelizz · 7 months ago

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Crybaby ˖ ࣪⊹

K. TSUKISHIMA x Fem!reader ˖ ࣪⊹

Sum: Kei hated it how easily he let the team get to his head. What did they know, she was his crybaby after all.

Warnings: none, fluff, crybaby coded reader, kei being love sick, occ kei(kinda)!not proofread Tho reader is blk coded I hope everyone enjoys!

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

It was wierd the team thought as they watched their middle blocker standing in front of a girl with a tear stained face. Of course their first thought is he made her cry, but that was not the case. They couldn’t help but watch as this happened multiple times before practice until Kageyama said something.

“Who’s that crybaby you stand with after practice?” He asked making Tsukishima stop tying his shoe immediately glaring up at the setter.

“Yeah making pretty girls cry huh Tsukishima!” Noya yelled pushing the blondes head.

Kei leaned up pushing Nishinoya off him “No I’m not, and don’t fucking call her a crybaby.” He spoke making eye contact with Kageyama.

“Why is she your girlfriend?” Kageyama scoffed.

“Yeah she is jackass.” A lot of the team definitely was not expecting that answer out of him. Tsukishima with a girl who’s known for being whinny, with as little patience as they know Tsukishima has she’s his girlfriend.

“No way! How is that pretty girl going out with a bully like you!” Hinata shouted.

Because he was soft with that pretty girl. Of course kei teased her for crying easily and over the most stupidest things but he was alway there to comfort her if needed. His hand squishing her tear stained face tell her it’s all right and not to be dramatic, but earns a punch for call her dramatic.

But it didn’t matter what the team thought of them, because they honestly held heavy doubts, that maybe he was to harsh with her or even mean. He didn’t think he was and she never said anything. She would right if his words ever hurt her she’d speak up. Right?

His eyes looked over to her as they walked through the night market hand in hand, a smile on her glossy lips as she looked around the food trucks. He hated that he could tell him self that he didn’t care what others thought but it did, it bothered him a lot. Was he the reason she cried sometimes, that his snotty remarks actually hurt her feelings. How could he do that to her. How could he make her cry what kind of boyfriend was he if he made her cry.

“Kei..”

He made her hurt didn’t he? The reason her pretty face was always wet with tears?

“Kei!”

He blinked. “Yo are ya with me!” She laughed waving her hand in front of his face. “Am i distracting you” she teased.

“Tsk- no you’re not.” He scoffed.

“Booo! But anyways what has you all airheaded?” She asked tilting her head slightly her braids moving to the side with her motion.

“Nothing.” He hummed.

She pressed her lips together squinting at her boyfriend, his eyes staring into her dark ones. “Will you quite that.” He asked a small smile appearing in his face as his hand pushed her face away.

Even with the moments they shared, he continued to let it eat at him. They moved to a more secluded area sitting on the grass food in hand. He watched her as she ate, and talked, about anything and everything. He just listened, as she went on, smiling at small things she said.

How did he get so lucky.. a polar opposite that didn’t annoy him. Her melanin skin glowing under the street light as they ate her smile wide and so bright. Kei let his hand fall into his hand as she continued talking admiring her.

“So are you gonna tell me what’s wrong.” She asked.

“Hm?”

She looked up as him her smile going away “what’s going through your head, I know better.” She did she knew him, mind you he hadn’t made any comment on what she was talking about nothing not even a snarky remark teasing her.

“So what is it baby?” She spoke leaning back in her hands.

He looked away from her gaze “nothing just something stupid.” He sighed closing his eyes.

He could feel her roll her eyes, the sound of her body shifting her now sitting right in-front of him. The feeling of her hands holding his face made him open his eyes.

“It’s nothikng don’t worry your tiny little head about it.” He spoke softly.

“Don’t lie what is it Kei? You know you have to talk to me to.” She spoke her brows frowning, don’t do that he thought.

“I understand but it’s nothing just letting people get to me head alright?” He spoke his hand squishing her cheeks her hands not yet leaving his face.

“Who? Is it about you-“

“It’s about us.”

She looked at him “bad things?”

He shrugged his shoulders “I guess..”

Her hands left his face, letting herself get comfortable on his lap her face close to his. “Tell me baby..”

He only looked at her for a moment his eyes looking at her lips then back to her eyes. “Do I ever make you sad?”

She tilted her head giving him an are you crazy look. “See I told you it was stupid.” He huffed.

“Why would people thing that, are they saying that?”

“Yes.” He groaned his head falling into her shoulder.

“Why?” She laughed.

He shot back pinching her cheeks “because you’re a crybaby!” He scoffed.

“Nuh uh!” She whined.

“Yuh huh!” He laughed.

Letting go of her face he watched her pout “I’m not a cry baby just open with my emotions!” She sassed.

“Uh huh sure you crybaby.” He spoke his hands resting in her hips.

“But it’s okay, you’re my crybaby.”

She smiled “shut up that’s so lame!” She scoffed pushing him.

“I thought it was good.”

“Lame!” She laughed.

“Yeah then why are you laughing you idiot!”

“Because that was cringy and stupid nothing my boyfriend would ever say.” She groaned her laughter causing him to smile.

“Whatever you idiot I can be romantic.” He said.

“Yeah I know you can but with actions not so much words.”

He scoffed “really!”

She hummed crossing her arms, making his eyes twitch “get off of me, that irritated me.”He spoke pushing her.

“Whatever! You love it.” She said getting back in his face.

He only raised a brow, “ya know ya do.” She whispered leaning on her hands, their lips grazing against one another.

“Want me to kiss you sweetheart?” He asked.

She grinned “I should be asking you that sir, you’ve been looking at me lips all evening.” She hummed.

He let her get closer their lips barely touching befor pulling away, “UGH! Why do you do that!” She whined.

“You gave me attitude.” He shrugged a grin on his face.

He watched as she fell back dramatically “you hate me!” She groaned.

“Mmhm sure do.” She sighs looking down at her smiling at her dramatic pose.

He let her complain a bit more befor leaning down kissing her lips. Only to be pulled by her for a real kiss. “Feel better…” he whispered a little breathless.

“Alway fee better when you’re here with me.” She said pushing his glasses up.

Yeah they didn’t know shit about them. He’d never hurt her, he never wanted to. She would be the only one to get true kindness out of him. Because he couldn’t afford losing her.

Req are open!!! (Plz send something I’m desperate 😞)

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

TAGS:

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jetii · 2 months ago

Text

Always

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!Reader / Hunter x fem!Reader

Words: 16,083

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, hurt/comfort, forbidden relationship, a very heartfelt reunion, Hunter is a crier no I won't be accepting any criticism, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, marking, primal kink, scent kink?, breeding kink

Summary: Months after you went into hiding, Hunter hasn't stopped hoping, waiting for the day when you can finally be together again. Now that it's here, and there's no reason to hide his feelings for you anymore, he can't help but be a little overwhelmed.

A/N: I'm sure no one believes me at this point but I had no intention of writing this much. I was possessed by the spirit of romance, true love, etc. etc. Anyway, please enjoy some very soft, very protective, very affectionate Hunter. Thank you so much to @dindjarins1ut for the prompt!

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Hunter is nervous.

He tries his best to hide it, keeping to himself while Tech and Echo bicker in the cockpit, but he can't ignore the butterflies in his stomach, nor the clammy hands threatening to soak through his gloves. It's ridiculous. He's faced off against far worse than this. He shouldn't be getting worked up over something so small.

But it isn't really small, not when you think about it. He hasn’t seen you in months. No comms, no messages. Nothing. He knows you’re alive, and even that was a miracle. The last words he said to you were in person, when you were standing right in front of him and he told you he loved you, and he'd kissed you and then left with the promise to come back as soon as he could.

That was before the Republic fell, and every Jedi across the galaxy was marked for death. Before the purge and the Empire's reign began. Before you were forced to go into hiding on your own.

And he hasn't spoken to you since.

You haven't seen each other in months, and Hunter is terrified that the feelings aren't mutual anymore. That you've grown apart during your time away, and what he had thought was love, you now see as nothing more than a fling. He's scared you'll look at him differently, scared you won't look at him at all.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you don’t want him anymore. If he loses the best thing that's ever happened to him.

It's stupid, Hunter knows that, because even if you don't love him the same way you used to, you'll still be friends. He should just be happy you're alive and not worrying about something so trivial as his emotions, but he can't help it. He can't shake the feeling, and it's eating him up inside.

A hand settles on his shoulder, and he jumps.

Hunter hasn’t been startled like that in ages, not since he was a cadet, but here he is, nearly falling out of his seat at the sudden contact. It takes him a moment to get over his shock, his heart pounding, before he looks up to see Wrecker looking down at him with a frown.

"Hey, we're almost there," Wrecker says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and Hunter swallows the lump in his throat.

"I'm fine," he says, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat, tries again. "I'm fine."

Wrecker’s eyebrows raise, and Hunter realizes a moment too late Wrecker never asked how he was doing. But his brother doesn't call him out on it, only gives him a look, one that Hunter recognizes as his attempt to look serious.

“You sure?”

"Yeah," Hunter replies automatically. He can feel the anxiety creeping into his gut, and he pushes it down, looking away. "Why wouldn’t I be?”

"I dunno," Wrecker shrugs, leaning back against the bulkhead. "You've been real tense all day."

Hunter sighs. He should have known Wrecker would notice something was wrong, even if the others hadn't. He'd always been perceptive, despite what people thought of him, and Hunter’s never been able to get away with hiding his feelings, not even when they were kids.

"I just..." he hesitates, wondering how to explain his feelings without making himself seem pathetic. Wrecker might not care, but Hunter still has his pride. He still has the strong desire to protect you, to keep you secret and safe. He knows Wrecker would never betray his trust, but still, he doesn't want to admit how anxious he's been, or how much the anticipation is killing him.

"It's nothing," Hunter decides. He turns back to look out the viewport through the doors of the cockpit. They’ll be landing in a few minutes, and he doesn't want to miss the moment you step into view. "Just... worried, is all."

"What for?"

"I..."

He can't say it, can't get the words past his lips, but the hand on his shoulder squeezes gently, and the unspoken encouragement makes the admission easier.

"It's been a long time," Hunter says finally, and the rest comes tumbling out of him, unable to be held back anymore, “We haven’t seen her in months, Wrecker. What if she's... I don’t know. Things have changed, is all. For her. For us."

"So?" Wrecker scoffs, and his dismissal of the problem only makes Hunter feel worse. He scowls, glaring up at his brother.

"So," he echoes, trying to sound stern, but he can't even bring himself to look mad, not really. His shoulders slump, the fight leaving him, and he looks away. "It might not be the same anymore."

For a moment, the silence is deafening, but then Wrecker lets out a laugh, loud enough to echo throughout the ship, and Hunter bristles, his eyes darting to the cockpit. Tech and Echo are still arguing about the finer details of landing, but he doesn't doubt they can hear every word they're saying.

"What?" Hunter snaps, glaring at his brother, but Wrecker only laughs harder.

"I'm pretty sure she won't have changed that much," he says, nudging Hunter's shoulder hard enough to make him sway. "I bet she's gonna be so happy to see us, she'll probably forget how to talk. Just like last time."

Hunter huffs, but he can't help the twitch of his lips at the memory of your first meeting, of how nervous you'd been, unable to string two words together without stumbling over your own tongue. You always did tend to trip over your own words when you were flustered.

You had been rendered speechless after he'd told you about his feelings for you, your face flushed red, mouth hanging open in surprise, and he hadn't been able to keep from grinning at your reaction. You couldn’t form a single sentence until after you'd kissed him, and by then, it was his turn to be caught off guard.

He can remember the look on your face like it was yesterday, and the thought of seeing you again, of seeing your eyes light up as you smile up at him, fills him with a familiar warmth. He wants so badly to believe that your reunion will go well, that things haven't changed and that your relationship is the same, but a part of him, the pessimistic part that's kept him alive all these years, knows that it can't possibly be true.

And Wrecker has no idea what you mean to him, because Hunter has never told him, has never told any of them. You're his secret, his one solace in the galaxy, the one thing he keeps from his brothers, the only thing he's ever wanted that's completely his.

And you were taken from him.

It hurts just thinking about it, knowing you were alone, afraid, with no one to turn to for help, while Hunter was hundreds of thousands of parsecs away. They'd spent weeks trying to find you after the Empire was established, scouring the holonet and every contact he could find, but it was like you had fallen off the face of the galaxy.

Hunter had never felt so helpless in his life.

So yes, he's a little scared of how this is going to play out. You were taken from him once, and it broke his heart. He's terrified that if you don't want him anymore, he won't survive losing you a second time.

"Yeah," Hunter murmurs, glancing out the window. Your home planet is starting to take shape in the viewport, the blue and green and brown and white all blending together. "You're probably right."

Wrecker chuckles, patting his shoulder.

"You know I am," Wrecker says cheerfully, and then he's walking away, back towards the cockpit to interrupt the debate Tech and Echo are having.

Hunter stares after him, not sure if he should be offended by the comment or not. He chooses not to dwell on it, pushing himself out of his chair to follow his brother. Tech spares them a quick glance, rolling his eyes when he sees Wrecker is already pushing his way into his space.

"Would you mind," he grumbles, elbowing the bigger clone, but Wrecker is unfazed, squeezing into the small space behind Tech's chair.

"Nah," he says, grinning down at him.

"Then could you at least wait until we've landed?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It would certainly make things less complicated."

"Guys, come on," Echo groans, his head hitting the back of his seat. "We're almost there."

"And what a relief that will be," Tech grumbles, pushing his goggles up his nose, and he looks at Hunter, his brow raised. "What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Hunter says, but he's a little too fast to reply, and Tech doesn't buy it. His gaze turns suspicious, but he doesn't push. Instead, he shoves Wrecker's hands away from the controls and starts his descent, taking the ship down in a controlled spiral towards the planet's surface.

Omega drops into the seat beside him and secures her restraints, and Hunter follows suit, though he can't help the nervous energy building in his limbs. He can't keep still, his fingers tapping an unsteady rhythm against his thigh, and when Omega's small hand covers his, he startles.

"Are you excited?" she asks him, and Hunter hesitates for a moment before he nods.

"Yeah, kid," he answers, and it's not a lie. Not really. He is excited, in his own way. "I'm glad we get to see her."

"Me too," Omega smiles as she pulls her hand away, and she turns to watch the clouds disappear as they sink below the atmosphere. "I can't wait to meet her."

"She's gonna love you," Wrecker says, his arms braced on Tech's chair. "You're gonna love her, too. She's real nice."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Hunter replies, leaning back in his seat. He can't keep the fondness out of his voice when he speaks, the memory of your laugh echoing in his head. "She's one of a kind."

Tech glances over his shoulder. "It has been some time since we last saw her," he says, and Hunter feels his heart stutter in his chest. He knows Tech doesn't mean anything by it, but he can't help but hear the implication in his words.

It's been a long time, and people change.

"Well," Echo says, turning in his seat to grin at Hunter. "Let's hope she hasn't forgotten all about us."

Hunter swallows the lump in his throat and forces a smile, nodding along with the rest of them, but he can't ignore the pit in his stomach. He wants so desperately to believe they're right, that your reunion will go well and it won't be awkward, that everything will be just like it used to, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't shake the feeling.

"It'll be... nice, to see her again," Tech says. "Even if it has been awhile."

"Aw, you missed her too, huh?" Wrecker grins, clapping a hand on Tech's shoulder, who swats him away irritably.

"She was a competent general, and she is a valuable ally," Tech replies, adjusting his goggles. "I didn't say I missed her. Simply that it will be nice to see her."

"It's okay to admit you like her, you know," Echo teases. "We won't tell anyone."

Tech shoots him a glare, but he doesn't say anything. He's focused on the descent now, the ground growing closer and closer, and when they break through the cloud cover, the land below them comes into focus.

Hunter leans forward in his seat, eyes straining against the sun. You live on a small colony in the southern hemisphere, surrounded by a large forest. It's isolated, and perfect for someone trying to lay low, but it's also a bit difficult to find, and Hunter doesn't spot your house until they're nearly on top of it.

It's small, a cabin tucked neatly among the trees, with a yard and a path that leads to a dock down by the lake. There's a ship parked outside, a tiny thing, and Tech guides the Marauder down beside it.

"There she is!" Wrecker booms, pointing out the viewport. Hunter stands up, ignoring the nausea building in his stomach, and scans the house.

And there you are.

You're sitting on the porch, a datapad in your lap, and you glance up with a hand shielding your eyes. It's impossible to make out your expression, but when the Marauder slows to land, you're already standing and hurrying down the dirt path towards them.

It's been so long since he's seen you, and even though he knows your face, has it memorized and replayed in his head so many times it's burned into his mind, the sight of you is enough to knock the wind out of him. You're smiling, waving up at the ship, and you look so happy that he can't stop himself from mirroring your expression.

You're here.

Hunter has dreamed of this moment for months, the day he gets to see you again, and the reality of it is even better than he'd hoped. He's barely aware of his feet moving, taking him towards the hatch as soon as the ship has touched down.

"Hunter?" Wrecker's voice is far away, barely registering in Hunter's mind as he practically runs towards the exit. "You okay?"

"Fine," he calls over his shoulder, his hand slamming into the button. The door hisses as it slides open, and a rush of warm, fresh air washes over him. The second his feet hit the ground, he's moving, his legs carrying him as fast as he can.

"Hey!" Wrecker shouts, but Hunter doesn't answer. He's halfway down the path, his eyes locked on your figure as you hurry towards him, and when you're close enough to touch, he's pulling you into his arms.

Your hands slide around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he crushes you to his chest. He doesn't realize he's crying until he hears you whisper his name, but then you're laughing, soft and beautiful, and all he can do is hold you tighter, your scent enveloping him as he breathes you in. He can't keep himself from pressing his lips to the skin behind your ear, needing to feel the warmth of you, the solidness, the realness of you here, alive, with him.

"Hunter," you whisper, and his name has never sounded so sweet. Your voice, your hands, the sound of your breath as it ghosts across his skin, the way you say his name. All of it is like a balm to his soul, soothing his worry, and for a moment, everything feels right again.

Hunter lifts his head and cups your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him, and you do.

Your eyes are shining, tears brimming along the edges, and when you blink, they spill over. He thumbs them away, smiling so wide his cheeks ache.

"Hi," he whispers. You laugh, a sob escaping with it, and he feels his heart soar at the sound.

"Hi," you say back, and then you're surging forward, capturing his lips with yours.

It's a desperate kiss, the kind that says how much you've missed each other, how afraid you were of never seeing the other again. It's the first kiss you've shared in months, and it's the best damn kiss Hunter's ever had. The world narrows down to just the two of you, and nothing else exists, not the trees or the ship or his family watching from the hatch, their jaws hanging open.

It's just him and you, finally, blissfully, reunited.

He kisses you hard, and you return the pressure, clutching him close. His arms slip around your waist, lifting you off the ground for a moment, and you gasp against his mouth, laughing when he sets you down again.

"Miss me?" you ask, a teasing note to your voice, and Hunter pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

"Yeah," he replies, and then he's kissing you again, softer this time. Gentler. His lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, and your fingers tighten their grip in his hair.

He doesn't know how long it's been since he's started kissed you, or how long you've been kissing him, but it doesn't matter. It's not enough, could never be enough. He needs more of you, needs every part of you pressed against him, so close he can feel your heartbeat.

You hum, your hand moving to cup the back of his head, and the kiss deepens. Hunter's hands drift, sliding down the curve of your spine until his palms are pressed flat against the small of your back, and he pulls you closer. Your body molds to his perfectly, and you're warm and soft and so unbelievably real, and he never wants to let you go.

"Uh..."

The sudden intrusion startles him, and he pulls away from the kiss with a jerk, looking over his shoulder. The rest of his squad is staring at him, dumbfounded, and he can't keep the blush from creeping up his neck.

"Uh," he repeats, his face flushing. "Hey."

Wrecker's jaw is hanging open, and so is Tech's. Hunter doesn't think he's ever seen either of his brothers at a loss for words.

"We, uh..." Hunter clears his throat, glancing back at you. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, but you're grinning up at him, your eyes dancing. You give him a little nod, a silent permission to tell them the truth, and his heart flutters. "We were going to tell you, but things... got in the way."

Wrecker is the first to recover, his surprise shifting into a massive smile.

"I knew it!" he yells, pumping his fist in the air. "I told ya, didn't I? Didn't I?"

"That you did," Tech replies. His mouth is still open, but he closes it quickly, pushing his goggles up his nose before reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Well, this is... certainly unexpected."

"That's an understatement," Echo mutters. He glances at Hunter, his brow raised. "So, how long has this been going on?"

"Uh..." Hunter's eyes dart to you, but you only smile at him. He swallows the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. "It's been a couple years."

"A couple years?"

"Yeah."

"Years," Echo repeats. "Right. Okay."

"You could have told us," Tech says. He's looking at Hunter now, his face impassive, but Hunter can read the hurt in his eyes hidden behind the mask of indifference. "We wouldn't have betrayed your trust."

"I know," Hunter sighs, running a hand over his head. "We just... we wanted to keep it quiet."

"It was my idea," you say, and Hunter's surprised to see you look guilty. Your eyes are fixed on the ground, and he watches the way your bottom lip wobbles before you suck it into your mouth. You look up at him through your lashes, and he offers you a reassuring smile. You return it, but it's hesitant. "The Order's views on attachment were... a little different, to say the least. It would have put both of us at risk if anyone found out. So we kept it secret."

"Well, now you don't have to," Wrecker grins.

"No, I suppose not," you reply, smiling at him, but there's a sadness to your expression that makes Hunter's chest tighten. He can only imagine how difficult the last few months have been for you, what it's like to be in hiding, constantly looking over your shoulder. His arms ache to wrap around you again, to pull you into his chest and hold you close, to protect you from everything and everyone.

But he can't.

The Empire is everywhere, always watching. The war might be over, but the danger isn't gone, not yet. Not for him, and not for you.

"Can I come out now?" a voice voice drifts from the ship, and Hunter looks up, surprised. His eyes land on Omega, her arms crossed over her chest. She looks irritated, a frown pulling at her lips, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, kid," he says, nodding his head towards the ramp. "Come on."

Omega wastes no time in running out of the ship, her irritation forgotten in her excitement. She skids to a stop a few feet away, her eyes wide as she stares at you. You kneel down, a warm smile spreading across your face, and Hunter feels his heart squeeze in his chest.

"Hey," you say softly. "You must be Omega. I've heard a lot about you."

Omega steps forward, holding her hand out for you to shake, and you take it.

"Nice to meet you," she says politely.

"And you," you reply, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Your eyes are soft as you study her face, a fondness to your expression that Hunter's only seen a few times.

He knows how much you love children. The Order never allowed its members to have families, but that hasn't stopped you from falling in love with kids everywhere you go. He's seen the way your eyes light up when you're around them, how gently you speak to them, like they're the most important people in the galaxy.

He knows it's just the way you are, but sometimes, he wonders if it's something more. If maybe, someday, you'd want to have kids of your own.

And the thought terrifies him.

Not because he doesn't want a family with you, but because the world is changing, and he's not sure there's any place for it. You're in hiding, and he's a traitor to the Republic. How would it ever work?

He knows you wouldn't care about the dangers, though. You'd risk everything for a chance at a normal life, a family, and while he'd give anything for that too, he doesn't think he can allow himself to get his hopes up.

Not now. Not yet.

He's lost in thought, his gaze drifting to the trees surrounding the house, when a tug on his arm brings him back. You're looking up at him, an eyebrow raised, and when he blinks, you roll your eyes, a fond smile twitching at your lips.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "What did you say?"

"I was asking how long you're staying," you repeat, but he can tell by the look on your face you know what's going on in his head. You're giving him a moment to compose himself, a distraction to keep him from slipping into another spiral.

It's a common occurrence these days.

"Well," Hunter starts, glancing at the rest of his team. "We're kind of... between jobs, right now."

"That's putting it lightly," Echo scoffs.

"So we figured we could use a little vacation," Hunter finishes. He looks back at you. "If you'll have us."

"Of course I will," you smile, and Hunter doesn't miss the way your shoulders relax, the relief in your eyes. "Stay as long as you want."

"We don't want to intrude," Hunter says, his gaze softening. "If you need some space, we understand. We can—"

"Don't be ridiculous," you huff, nudging his shoulder. "I'd love to have you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course," you nod, glancing at the others. "All of you."

"Good," Hunter breathes, unable to keep the sigh of relief from escaping his lips. "I didn't really wanna leave anyway."

"Good," you say, leaning into his side. You rest your head against his shoulder, and Hunter's arm wraps around you almost automatically, pulling you against him. "I've missed you."

"Yeah," Hunter says softly. "Me too."

"Oh, yeah," Wrecker grins. "He hasn't shut up about you."

"Wrecker," Hunter hisses.

"No, really," Tech nods, adjusting his goggles. "Ever since we lost contact, he hasn't stopped talking about you."

"Not that he wasn't always talking about her," Echo teases.

"Hey," Hunter protests, but he can feel his cheeks burning, and he knows the blush is starting to creep up his neck. You're smiling, a knowing glint in your eye as you glance up at him, and Hunter rolls his eyes. "They're exaggerating."

"We are not," Tech says, frowning at him.

"Maybe not," Echo smirks, his gaze settling on you. "But now we know why he's been so weird about seeing you again."

"He's been weird?" you ask. You're trying to hold back a laugh, but Hunter can see the mirth in your eyes.

"He hasn't stopped pacing for days."

"He nearly fell over his own feet trying to get off the ship."

"Oh, yeah, he was nervous all right," Wrecker chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Never seen him like that before. I was startin' to get worried."

"Guys," Hunter grumbles. "Come on."

"Well," you smile, patting his chest. "I'm glad you came. All of you."

"Us too," Omega says. Her face is scrunched up, like she's trying not to laugh. "Hunter was so nervous he forgot how to breathe."

"Alright, that's enough," Hunter huffs. He can feel his ears burning, and he shoots Omega a pointed look. "Everyone, inside."

"Aw, but—"

"Now," Hunter snaps, cutting Wrecker off. He's not mad, not really, but he can't help the embarrassment. "We'll be there in a minute."

Wrecker opens his mouth to protest, but Echo nudges him, nodding his head towards the house. Tech doesn't wait for either of them, heading inside without another word, and Wrecker reluctantly follows after him, grumbling under his breath. Omega casts one last look over her shoulder, waving at you before disappearing inside.

The silence that settles over the two of you is heavy, and Hunter lets out a long breath. He runs a hand over his hair, avoiding your eyes.

"I can't believe they told you that," he mutters, but he can feel your gaze on him, the smile in your eyes, and his irritation fades.

"They're only teasing," you say, resting a hand on his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin, and he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replies, opening his eyes to look at you. Your smile is soft, gentle, and he melts under your gaze. "Just a little overwhelmed."

"Me too," you chuckle, dropping your hand. He quickly grabs it, pulling it to his chest, and your expression shifts. "I've been so worried, Hunter. I thought..."

"I know," he whispers. His grip tightens on your hand. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you whisper back. Your voice wavers, and Hunter tugs on your arm, bringing you closer.

"I'm here now," he murmurs, tilting his head down. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

You nod, but the fear is still shining in your eyes. He knows that feeling all too well, the uncertainty, the constant worry, the doubt. And it's hard to believe him, he knows, when the past few months have been nothing but fear and anxiety. But he's determined to make it better, to do whatever it takes to ease your mind, even if it's just for a little while.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, and the contact makes you sigh.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. He strokes the skin with his thumb, his fingers gentle, and his heart stutters in his chest at the way your eyes flutter closed. "You don't have to worry anymore. I'll make sure nothing happens to you, I promise."

"You don't have to—"

"I know," he cuts you off, brushing his nose against yours. "But I'm going to. We're gonna protect you, sweetheart. All of us."

"Thank you," you whisper, opening your eyes. He's startled by the emotion swimming in your gaze, the tears pooling along the edges, and the sight breaks his heart. “But I can’t put you guys in danger. The Empire—”

"The Empire won't do anything," he assures you. "You're safe. We'll keep you safe."

"But what if—"

"Listen," he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You suck your lip into your mouth, chewing on the flesh, and he gently pries it from your teeth. "None of that. I won't let anything happen to you. Neither will they. You're part of the team, and we take care of our own. No matter what."

"You don't have to do this, Hunter."

"I know," he says, his voice low. He doesn't want to push, doesn't want to force you to come with them, but he needs you to believe him. Needs you to understand. "But I want to. Please. Let me take care of you. It'll be good for all of us."

You're quiet for a moment, your brow furrowed, but then you let out a soft sigh, your shoulders slumping, and your eyes drop to the ground.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

"Hey," Hunter says. His free hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "Trust me, alright? You're safe now."

You nod, but you don't look convinced. He sighs, leaning forward until his lips brush against yours, featherlight, barely there.

"We can talk more later," he murmurs. He's desperate to kiss you again, his whole body aching for it, but he doesn't want to rush you. He's willing to wait, no matter how badly he wants you. "If you're okay with it."

"Yes," you breathe, your hands coming up to clutch at his armor, and you press a soft kiss to his jaw. "I'd like that."

He lets out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to press his hips into yours, but then your hands slide up over his shoulders to tangle in his hair, and he groans. You chuckle, a sweet, breathy sound that has his blood singing, and Hunter's restraint crumbles.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, and his hands are moving on their own. He lifts you into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You're pliant under his touch, letting him guide the kiss, and he licks at your lips, begging for entrance. You give it easily, and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, curling against yours.

His hips press against yours, and your body is hot against him, so soft and perfect. You taste so good, and feel even better, and the sounds you're making, the little whines and gasps, are driving him crazy.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss. He's breathing hard, his pulse thrumming, and he can't keep the smirk off his face. You look beautiful, flushed and breathless, and his desire spikes when your fingers tug at his hair.

"Fine with me," you smile.

"Good." He kisses you again, deep and slow, and his hands drift lower. "I've got a lot of time to make up for."

"Mmm," you hum, your head falling back. Hunter can't resist the urge to kiss your throat, his teeth grazing over the delicate skin, and you shudder. A breathy moan falls from your lips, soft and quiet, but Hunter hears it. He always does.

"Fuck," he growls. "You sound so pretty."

"Hunter," you sigh. His name is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and he has to fight the urge to take you right then and there.

"We should go inside," he murmurs, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear.

"Mmhmm," you reply. You're nuzzling his neck, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine, and his hold on you tightens.

"Sweetheart," he groans. "I can't think straight when you do that."

"That's the idea."

"Come on," he says. He's reluctant to put you down, but he does, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment.

You look at him, your eyes bright, and your smile makes his chest ache. He wants so badly to stay with you, to pull you into his lap and bury himself in your warmth, to have the freedom to kiss you, touch you, love you, without having to worry about getting caught. He's never been able to do that before, always keeping you a secret, always worried about being found out, but the Order doesn't exist anymore, and now he has the chance.

And he's going to take it.

He's not going to hide his feelings anymore. You deserve more than that.

You reach up and touch his cheek, the gentle gesture enough to calm his racing heart.

"Let's go," you say, your thumb stroking over his skin. "Before they get suspicious."

"I'm pretty sure they're already suspicious," he chuckles, glancing towards the house.

"It's a little obvious, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he admits, his face heating up. "A little."

You laugh, taking his hand in yours. You're leading him towards the door, but he stops, giving you a gentle tug.

"Hey," he murmurs, waiting for you to turn around. You do, a small smile tugging at your lips, and he can't help the way his eyes dart down to your mouth, the memory of your kiss sending a thrill down his spine.

"What?"

"I love you," he whispers. He's not sure why he says it. You know how he feels, you've known it for a long time, but something about it feels different, now. Like it means more than it did before.

Maybe it does.

Your expression softens, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards, and he can see the happiness in your eyes, the fondness. It's a look he's familiar with, one he's seen many times, but the knowledge that he can see it as much as he wants now, without having to hide or sneak around, makes his heart flutter in his chest.

"I love you, too," you whisper, a smile spreading across your face.

"Come here," he says. You're in his arms again before you can say a word, his mouth finding yours, and you're melting into his touch, the kiss deepening, turning desperate. He has to pull away before his brain completely shuts down, and when he does, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

"Later," he promises, his voice a rasp.

"Later," you agree.

He lets out a long breath, nodding his head once before stepping back. His hand slides down to rest at the small of your back, and he gives you a gentle nudge, nodding towards the house. You smile, reaching up to straighten his bandana, and Hunter can't help but chuckle at the action.

"Lead the way," you say.

"Always," he grins, and then you're walking up the path, the warmth of the sun enveloping you as you step onto the porch.

The door slides open before Hunter can even reach for the panel, Wrecker's smiling face poking out.

"Oh, good," he says, looking at the two of you. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about us."

"Of course not," you reply.

Wrecker's grin widens, and then he's stepping aside, his arm sweeping towards the inside of the house.

"After you, General."

"Thanks," you smile, nodding your head in appreciation. Hunter follows behind, his hand hovering at the base of your spine. Wrecker doesn't miss the movement, his eyebrows shooting up, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches, a knowing look in his eyes, and Hunter rolls his own.

"Not a word," he warns.

"Wasn't gonna say anything," Wrecker smirks, his gaze flickering to the hand resting on your back. "Not sure I need to."

"Don't start," Hunter sighs. He slows to a stop, crossing his arms over his chest, and you keep walking, a laugh spilling from your lips as you head towards the kitchen.

"Hey," Wrecker raises his hands in surrender, but the grin doesn't fade. "I'm happy for you. Both of you."

Hunter blinks. "Thanks," he says slowly.

"I mean it." Wrecker smiles. He claps a hand on Hunter's shoulder, a silent confirmation of his words, and Hunter returns the gesture. "You two deserve each other."

"Yeah," Hunter says, looking over at you. You're already in the kitchen, Tech at your side, and the two of you are talking rapidly at each other with Omega sitting on the counter between you. Tech's arms are waving wildly, a datapad gripped tightly in his hands, and you're grinning at him, the excitement obvious on your face. Echo is stirring a pot of something, the delicious smell of dinner drifting through the house, and he chimes in every now and then, his smile growing wider each time.

Omega glances up at him, and she gives him a little wave, her grin so wide her cheeks must ache. Hunter smiles back, his heart swelling, and he can't help but think, maybe everything is going to be alright.

You look so at home with his family, like you've always been a part of it, like you've always belonged there. And maybe you have. Maybe, this was where you were supposed to end up all along.

It's funny, how things work out sometimes. How, even after losing so much, even after having nearly everything taken from him, he somehow still managed to find something good.

"I guess we do,” Hunter finally replies, his gaze settling on you. He can't tear his eyes away, can't stop looking at the way the setting sun dances over your face, lighting you up in the most beautiful glow, the way your smile makes his heart beat faster.

Wrecker follows his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "So, does this mean she agreed to stay with us?"

"Yeah," Hunter sighs, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Yeah, she is."

"Good," Wrecker says. His smile widens. "That's good."

"It's going to be hard, keeping things quiet," Hunter says, glancing at his brother. "We've got a target on our backs, and I'm not sure how much longer we can hide. The Empire will find us eventually, and when they do—"

"It's okay," Wrecker interrupts, holding his hand up. "I know. But it's worth it, right? To keep her safe? And Omega?”

"Yeah," Hunter says without hesitation. "It is."

"Then we'll do whatever we have to," Wrecker replies. He nods towards the kitchen. "They'll understand. ‘Sides, Omega's gotta have a mom at some point. Might as well be her."

Hunter's breath catches, his chest tightening. "Wrecker—"

"You're happy," he continues, ignoring Hunter's protest. "You haven't been happy since... well, not since I can remember. And she makes you happy. And she's good with the kid, too. I can see how much she loves you, and how much you love her. So, what's the problem?"

Hunter stares at him, the surprise clear on his face.

"I, uh... nothing. There's no problem," he stammers, his brow furrowing.

"Good," Wrecker grins. He nudges him with his elbow, giving him a wink. "She's good for you, Sarge. And we're not gonna let anyone take that away from you. No matter what happens."

"Thanks," Hunter replies. He swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back the sudden moisture in his eyes. Wrecker squeezes his shoulder, smiling down at him, and Hunter takes a shaky breath.

"Don't mention it," Wrecker says. "Come on. I‘m starving."

"You're always hungry."

"Well, yeah," he scoffs. "We gotta keep our strength up, right? Especially if we're gonna be fighting off Imperials."

He mimes a punch, his fist slamming into his palm, and Hunter chuckles.

"Yeah, alright," he agrees. "Let's go eat."

The two of them walk into the kitchen, Wrecker immediately making a beeline for the pot Echo is stirring, and Hunter makes his way over to where you're standing with Tech.

He stands beside you, close enough for his arm to brush against yours, but he doesn't touch you. He keeps his hands at his sides, his fingers curling into his palms, but the desire to wrap his arms around you is overwhelming.

He knows you'll let him, but it's only been a few hours, and he's afraid if he touches you again, he won't be able to stop.

Tech is explaining something to you, his hands moving rapidly as he talks, and Hunter watches, his head tilted to the side. He's only half listening to what his brother is saying, but he's content to just watch the two of you interact. You're so invested in the conversation, asking questions, listening intently as Tech answers, and Hunter can't help but smile at the sight.

"So, what do you think?"

Tech's voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, forcing his attention back to the present.

"Uh... sorry," he mutters, glancing at you. "What was that?"

“Tech wants to gut my ship for parts like a bantha carcass," you huff. You're smirking at him, amusement shining in your eyes. "He's trying to convince me to let him take it apart."

"It's not as though we have much use for it," Tech argues. "And besides, it would give me something to do while we're here."

“Aren’t you all supposed to be relaxing?”

“I happen to find tinkering with electronics quite relaxing," Tech replies. "Especially old ones. And it will keep me busy, which means I won’t be pestering you. So really, you would be doing yourself a favor by allowing me to do this.”

Hunter smirks. “He’s got a point.”

“Traitor,” you mutter, nudging his shoulder.

He nudges you back, his grin widening, and you roll your eyes.

"Alright, fine," you sigh.

"Excellent," Tech smiles. He turns his attention back to the datapad in his hands, his eyes darting across the screen. “Omega, would you like to help me dismantle this ship? It will give you a chance to learn more about the components of different models."

"Sure," she nods. She jumps down from the counter, landing with a soft thud.

Hunter watches the two of them disappear into the living room before looking at you. You're smiling softly, your head tilted to the side, and he can't stop his gaze from wandering, taking in every detail of your face.

"You're staring," you murmur. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, and the hint of a smile tugging at your lips betrays your feigned irritation.

"Can’t help it,” he replies. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your hip. The simple touch is enough to send a spark shooting through him, a warmth blooming low in his stomach, and his grip tightens, pulling you closer.

"Hunter," you laugh, your eyes widening.

"Hmm?"

"We're not alone."

"We're not?" He arches an eyebrow. "Didn't notice."

"Hunter," you hiss, but there's no bite to your words, just a soft laugh. "Stop it."

"No," he grins, leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. You shiver, goosebumps erupting across your skin, and he feels a rush of pride at the reaction.

"You're impossible."

"Only because I can be," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your cheek. You sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut, and Hunter can't resist the urge to brush his mouth over the soft skin, trailing gentle kisses down your neck. You let out a soft whine, the noise so quiet only he can hear it, and his body reacts instinctively, his hands tightening, his hips shifting closer.

"Hunter," you gasp, your voice low.

"You smell so good," he groans. His nose brushes against your throat, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the sweet scent. It sends a thrill through him, a burst of heat washing over his body, and he nuzzles the skin, his lips ghosting along the edge of your jaw.

He doesn't want to stop. He wants to keep going, wants to drag his mouth across every inch of you until there's no part untouched, until the taste of you is burned into his memory for good. But he's aware of the others in the room, and he forces himself to pull away. He puts some distance between you, enough so that he can breathe, but he can't bring himself to move too far away.

"Tonight," Hunter says, his voice rough. He glances over his shoulder, making sure the others are still distracted, before continuing, "I'm gonna take care of you."

"Mm," you nod. You look dazed, your cheeks flushed, and Hunter feels a surge of satisfaction knowing it's his fault. "You'd better."

"Oh, I will," he smirks. "All night, if you want."

You bite your lip, your eyes sparkling. "Promise?"

"I—"

"Alright, I’m no chef, but I think it’s ready," Echo calls, Wrecker already heading towards the pot with a stack of bowls. He turns around, a spoon in one hand, and Hunter catches a glimpse of a wicked smile. "If you can pry yourselves apart long enough to eat."

"We were just talking," you argue, but your face is red, and Hunter has to bite back a grin.

"Right," Echo laughs, his gaze flickering between you. "Just talking. Got it."

"Echo," Hunter warns.

"I didn't say anything," he replies innocently. He waves his spoon at the two of you, his grin widening. "You can have your little chat after dinner.”

“Enough talking,” Wrecker groans, snatching the spoon from Echo’s hand and shoving him out of the way. "Food first."

"We'll finish this later," Hunter whispers, and you nod.

"I'll hold you to that," you whisper, brushing a kiss against his cheek before you pull away, stepping towards the counter. You glance over your shoulder at him, a sly smile curling your lips, and Hunter has to force himself not to follow after you. He waits until you're busy helping Wrecker dish out the food before moving, and even then, he makes sure to keep his distance.

It's difficult.

The need to be near you is overwhelming, and he can't stand the thought of leaving you for even a moment. But he doesn't want to crowd you, either, and he has to remind himself that you're not going anywhere.

You're here, and he's here, and nothing is going to take him away from you. Not again.

The thought settles over him, calming the ache in his chest, and he finally allows himself to relax, falling into an easy rhythm with the others as the six of you gather around the table. He takes a seat next to you, his leg pressed against yours, and his arm is draped over the back of your chair, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. You lean into his side, your body fitting against his like it was made to, and the warmth of you is enough to ease the last bit of tension that's been lingering beneath the surface.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Hunter loses track of how many times his hand drifts to your side, or his fingers slip into your own, or his lips press against your temple. Every time he does it, he expects a reaction from you, a protest or an admonishment or a roll of the eyes, but each time, you simply smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and he finds himself doing it again, unable to stop himself.

It’s easy, familiar, like this is how it was always meant to be, and the fact that he can finally hold you without fear of getting caught is a relief that's impossible to put to words. There's no more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more worrying about being seen standing too close together or his hands lingering too long. It's freeing, not having to hide how he feels, not having to pretend like his feelings don't exist.

It's the most natural thing in the world.

And he's going to enjoy every second of it.

Eventually, the meal ends, the food vanishing into Wrecker's stomach, and Hunter helps you clean up while the others disappear outside. The setting sun guides them toward your ship with Tech in the lead, and Hunter watches them go, his eyes lingering on the door for a moment before returning to you. You're scrubbing at a pot, your brow furrowed in concentration, and he can't help the fond smile that spreads across his face. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, content to watch you work.

"You're staring again," you mumble, not bothering to look at him.

"How did you know?"

"I can feel it," you chuckle. You set the pot aside and dry your hands before hanging up the towel. "I always know."

"It's not my fault," he says, pushing off the counter. Hunter closes the distance between the two of you, his hands resting on your hips. "You're hard to resist. And I can't keep my eyes off you."

"You're such a flatterer."

"It's not flattery if it's true."

You shake your head, a smile spreading across your face.

"What?"

"Nothing," you laugh. "Just... the way you're acting. It's kind of cute."

"Cute?" He frowns, his nose wrinkling. "I don't know about that."

"It is." Your arms snake around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair, and you tilt your head to the side. "I'm used to the serious, stoic Hunter. I like this one, too."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmhmm," you hum. Your lips press against his jaw, a soft kiss that has his eyes fluttering shut, and his hands slide down to grip your thighs. He lifts you onto the counter, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," you nod, and you kiss him again. This time, it's lower, right where his pulse is jumping under his skin, and he groans, his eyes falling shut.

"I didn't know you liked him so much," he manages to say, his breath hitching.

"I love him," you murmur. "As much as the other one."

"Well," he chuckles. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face. "I think I can live with that."

You lean forward, and he meets you halfway, his mouth finding yours.

It starts off slow, a lazy kiss, his hands moving from your face to tangle in your hair. But then your lips part, and the soft sound you make is enough to light a fire in his veins, and he's kissing you with everything he has, pouring all his emotion into it. You return it eagerly, matching him stroke for stroke, and when his tongue brushes against yours, the groan he lets out is so loud he can't even hear the others yelling outside.

It doesn't matter, anyway. Nothing does, except the two of you.

"Bedroom," you gasp, breaking the kiss. "Now."

"Yeah," he pants. He grabs your thighs, pulling you off the counter, and you wrap your legs around his waist, his arms hooking under your knees.

He doesn't say anything else. He can't. He just kisses you, his tongue sliding past your parted lips, and your nails dig into his shoulders, a desperate moan spilling from your throat.

He carries you through the house, navigating the halls blindly, too focused on kissing you to care where he's going. He nearly trips over a chair, but he manages to keep his balance, and you laugh, the sound vibrating against his mouth. He breaks the kiss long enough to shoot you a playful glare, and you beam back.

"In a hurry, are we?"

"You have no idea," he mutters. He kicks the door to your bedroom open, shutting it behind him with his foot, and strides across the room. "Been wanting this for too damn long."

"Mm," you sigh. You're kissing his neck now, your tongue lapping at his skin, and his pace quickens. He feels the softness of the mattress hit the back of his legs, and he sits, his hands shifting to cup your thighs.

"Missed you," he rasps as you settle into his lap. You're straddling him now, and the heat of you against him is driving him crazy. "Missed you so much."

"Missed you too," you whisper, and your hands are cupping his face, pulling him towards you. Your fingers trace the outline of his tattoo, your touch gentle, almost reverent. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling, and his breath hitches as you brush your lips over his temple.

"I can't believe this is real," he admits, his voice low. "I keep thinking it's some kind of dream, that I'm gonna wake up and find myself back on the ship."

"It's not a dream," you promise. You press a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his nose, and then, finally, his mouth. It's soft, chaste, but no less intense, and Hunter sighs, his hands sliding up to curl around your waist.

"You're really here," he whispers. "I didn't think..."

"I'm not going anywhere," you assure him, and the conviction in your voice makes his heart ache. Your forehead is resting against his, your lips barely an inch apart, and he can feel your breath ghosting across his skin. "I love you."

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "For not coming to you sooner. For not—"

"Hunter, stop," you cut him off, your fingers pressing against his mouth. He quiets instantly, his gaze locked with yours. "It's not your fault. There was nothing you could've done."

"I could've tried harder," he protests. "Could've tried to find you."

"You couldn't," you sigh, shaking your head. "You know that. I didn't want to be found. I'm not even supposed to be here. If anyone finds me, I'm as good as dead."

"I won't let that happen."

"I know," you smile. Your thumbs rub gentle circles against his cheeks, and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And I love you for it. But we can't change the past. We just have to make the most of the time we have now."

"Right," he nods. He swallows the lump in his throat, trying to push away the guilt, the anger, the regret. "I just..."

"What?"

He lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. "Do you ever think about what it could've been like? If we hadn't lost each other? If...things had gone differently, and the war had ended the way it was supposed to?"

"Yeah," you admit, and you give him a sad smile, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. "Sometimes."

"Me too," Hunter whispers. He pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck. You hold him there, your arms wrapping around him, and his hands drift up to clutch at the back of your shirt. He inhales deeply, taking in the scent of you, letting it fill him up, ground him.

"Sometimes I wonder," you murmur, your voice low, "what would've happened if we'd met in a different life. If we were just people, with no obligations or duties, no expectations or responsibilities. No wars, no battles, no death. Just us."

"A life together," he mumbles, the words muffled against your skin.

"Yeah," you say, and you sigh, a wistful sound that sends a pang through his chest. "A life together."

"We'd have a place like this," he says. He glances up at you, his chin resting on your chest. "A home."

You hum in agreement, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "We would."

"We'd be happy," he continues. He smiles at you, a small, sad thing, and your fingers trace the curve of his lips. "We'd have a family. Maybe even kids. And we wouldn't have to hide."

"We wouldn't," you agree, a tear slipping down your cheek. He reaches up, catching it before it can fall, and brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the dampness.

"I would've married you," he whispers. His voice breaks on the word, and he has to pause, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If I could. I would've married you, and given you everything I had."

"Hunter," you whisper, your voice breaking.

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "I just—"

"No, no," you cut him off with a shake of your head. You kiss him again, and he melts into it, the feel of your lips against his enough to soothe the ache in his chest.

"We could still have it," he breathes, his mouth moving over your jaw, the skin so soft and warm and inviting. "We could."

"I know," you reply, and you tilt your head back, allowing him access to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin, and you shudder, a whimper falling from your lips.

"Do you want it?" he asks, his voice low. He's not sure why he does, not sure what he wants the answer to be, but the question falls from his mouth without thought.

"More than anything," you admit, and Hunter feels his heart skip a beat.

"Then we'll make it happen," he promises. "If you'll have me."

"I already do," you whisper, and then you're kissing him again, harder this time, with more desperation, like you need to prove how much you mean it.

His hands wander, mapping out every curve, every contour, every inch of your body, and your own exploration isn't far behind, the two of you touching and caressing and stroking in a way that leaves him panting, his heart racing.

"Please," you whimper, and the sound goes straight to his cock.

"Anything," he rasps. "Whatever you want."

"I just want you."

"You have me," he breathes. "You'll always have me."

You're kissing him again, the desperation in your touch increasing with every second that passes. He feels like his entire body is on fire, like the slightest touch could set him off, and he groans into your mouth, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of your lips.

He knows what you want, and he gives it to you without hesitation, his mouth opening wide as he dips his tongue inside, his fingers digging into your hips. You gasp, and he swallows the noise, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt.

He pulls it up and over your head, breaking the kiss for only a moment, and he takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of you, his gaze sweeping over every inch of exposed skin.

You're so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at you.

You stare back, your chest heaving, your eyes dark with lust. You're biting your lip, and his own mouth falls open, his eyes widening.

He doesn't say a word. He can't. His brain can't seem to form a coherent thought, not when you're looking at him like that, and he swallows, his eyes darting to the swell of your breasts. You're wearing a bra, but it's not much, a scrap of lace and silk that leaves nothing to the imagination. He can see the outline of your nipples, the stiff peaks pressing against the fabric, and he can't help but reach up and run his thumb over one, the contact making him shiver.

"Hunter," you whimper, your eyelids fluttering shut. He repeats the action, watching in fascination as your chest rises and falls, and he does it again, the soft whine that falls from your lips spurring him on.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his hand cupping your breast. "So perfect."

He leans down, his mouth closing over the soft mound, and he sucks gently, his tongue lapping at the hard nub through the fabric. Your back arches, a broken moan escaping your lips, and Hunter feels a rush of heat shoot through him, his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

"Fuck," he curses, his breath hot against your skin, his hands moving to undo his belt. It's a struggle, his fingers shaking, but he manages, tugging it free and tossing it to the side. As soon as it hits the ground, you're pushing his hands away, taking over, and he grins, letting you take the lead.

"Here, let me," you murmur as your fingers work to unclip his armor. He nods, sitting back on his hands and admiring the view as you remove each piece, dropping them to the floor. The way your brow furrows in concentration, the softness of your skin, the swell of your breasts as they rise and fall with every breath, the warmth of your hands, the gentleness of your touch, all of it sends another wave of heat crashing through him.

It's breathtaking, the sight of you, and Hunter can't help the pride that swells in his chest. It’s not the first time he’s felt it, the rush of joy that comes with seeing the woman he loves, but it still catches him off guard.

He wonders, briefly, if he'll ever get used to the feeling. If he ever stops being amazed by how incredible you are, how lucky he is to have found you.

"What are you thinking about?"

You're kneeling in front of him now, your hands resting on his knees, and the question startles him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing," he says, and you tilt your head to the side, giving him a knowing look. He chuckles, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking along your jaw. "Just admiring the view."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," he replies, his gaze dropping to the exposed flesh of your chest. He can't stop himself from leaning forward, his fingers skimming along the lace, before brushing over the delicate skin of your cleavage.

"Hunter," you whimper, arching into him.

"Beautiful," he says. His eyes meet yours, a wicked grin pulling at his lips. "I can't wait to get my mouth on you."

You blush, the heat creeping up your neck, and Hunter chuckles, pulling you towards him. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your chest.

“But first,” he murmurs against your chest. His lips brush over your sternum, his nose skimming the tops of your breasts, and his hands find the waistband of your pants, tugging the fabric down. “I want to see all of you.”

You moan, letting him pull the material down your thighs, your eyes slipping shut as his hands glide along your legs. You step out of the clothing, them aside, and he takes the opportunity to remove his pants and shirt, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes.

You stand between his legs, staring down at him in nothing but your bra and panties, and Hunter has to take a deep breath. The sight of you is almost too much, the need coiling in his belly threatening to overwhelm him, but he manages to rein himself in.

"Gorgeous," he whispers. His hands are on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into the sensitive flesh. "Come here."

He pulls you into his lap, guiding you to straddle his hips, and you go willingly, settling yourself onto his thighs. He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing the skin, and you sigh, tilting your head to the side, granting him access.

"You smell so good," he murmurs. His nose traces the column of your neck, breathing in the sweet scent. It sends a thrill through him, a wave of desire surging forward, and his hips jerk involuntarily, grinding against yours. His cock is straining against the fabric of his underwear, aching for release, and he can't stop himself from groaning.

"Fuck," he rasps, his teeth scraping against your collarbone as you shift. You're moving against him, a slow roll of your hips, and Hunter can feel his restraint slipping.

"Hunter," you sigh. His mouth moves down, his lips trailing over the swell of your breast, his tongue darting out to lap at the lace covering your nipple.

"You're driving me crazy, sweetheart," he breathes, his breath hot against your skin. "The things I wanna do to you."

"What do you want to do to me?"

He can't stop the groan that escapes him. He grabs your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh, and tugs you down, grinding his clothed erection against you.

"Everything," he growls. His mouth moves along your neck, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. "Anything you want. I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Mmhm," he murmurs, nuzzling your chest. He can't stop himself from licking and sucking, the taste of your skin intoxicating. His hands are roaming up and down your sides, squeezing and caressing, and you arch into him, your body reacting to his touch.

He slides a hand down your spine, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. He makes quick work of it, unhooking the latch and pulling the straps down your arms. You sit back, letting the fabric fall away, and he can't help but stare, his mouth hanging open.

Your nipples are hard, pebbled and straining, and he can't resist the urge to flick his tongue across one, teasing the stiff peak. You let out a whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he grins, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Oh," you gasp. Your eyes are closed, your head tipped back, and Hunter smiles against your skin. He continues his assault, licking and sucking, his teeth grazing over the stiff nub.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he purrs. You nod, a soft moan falling from your lips. He switches to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, and you squirm in his lap, your hips rocking against his.

"Force, yes," you pant, tugging at his hair. "I missed this. Missed you."

"Me too, sweetheart," he murmurs. His hands move to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading, and you let out a shaky breath, rolling your hips against his. "I missed touching you, kissing you, being inside you."

"Yes," you whimper. His fingers are plucking at your nipples, pinching and tugging, and you grind down on his lap, desperate for friction. "Please, Hunter."

"Don't worry," he promises. He kisses his way up your chest, along the curve of your neck, and nips at your earlobe. "I'm gonna take care of you."

"Good," you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I've waited long enough."

"Too long," he agrees. He lifts his head, his gaze meeting yours. "But we've got all the time in the world."

You smile at him, cupping his face. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, neither saying a word. He can see the desire in your eyes, the need shining bright, but there's something else, something deeper, and his heart swells, his chest filling with warmth.

Then, without warning, Hunter flips you over, pressing you down into the mattress. He hovers above you, his weight resting on his forearms, and he smirks when you let out a surprised squeal.

"Hunter!"

"Hmm?" he hums, dipping his head to kiss the underside of your jaw. You arch into him, a soft moan escaping you.

"What are you—mm, that feels good," you sigh, tipping your head to the side.

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"Nothing," you murmur. Your arms are draped over his shoulders, your fingers threading through his hair. He presses a kiss to your throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin, and you groan. “Keep going.”

Hunter chuckles, his hands sliding up your thighs. He reaches your hips, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear.

"Lift your hips for me," he says, his breath ghosting across your ear. You obey, lifting yourself up off the mattress, and Hunter pulls the fabric down your legs. He tosses it over his shoulder, not bothering to see where it lands, before turning his attention back to you.

"Perfect," he breathes.

You're spread out in front of him, completely naked, your cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and he's mesmerized. It's not the first time he's seen you like this, but it's been too long, and his memory can't compare to the real thing.

He traces a finger along your inner thigh as he settles between your legs, his hand gliding over the soft flesh, and he watches as goosebumps erupt across your skin. You're trembling, the anticipation clear in your eyes, and Hunter grins, enjoying the effect he has on you.

"Tell me what you want," he says, his fingers ghosting along your slit. He's not surprised to find you wet, the scent of your arousal thick in the air, and he inhales deeply, relishing the familiar aroma.

"I want you," you whimper, your hips bucking upwards. He places a hand on your stomach, holding you down.

"How do you want me?"

"I don't care," you pant, reaching for him. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the skin, and he bites back a groan. "I just need you. Please."

"Soon," he promises. He kisses your thigh, his lips trailing over the smooth flesh. "Let me take care of you first."

"You don't have to," you insist.

"Oh, I want to," he murmurs, his mouth inches from your center. "So badly."

"Oh," you moan, your back arching as his breath ghosts over your sensitive skin. You're trembling beneath him, and Hunter can't help but smile. It's intoxicating, knowing how badly you want him, and he can't stop the pride that swells in his chest.

His tongue flicks out, teasingly brushing against your folds, and you let out a breathy sigh, your body tensing.

"Stop teasing,” you plead.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says, though he can’t find it in him to sound apologetic. His fingers part your folds, and his tongue slides through your slick heat, circling your entrance before dragging up to flick over your clit.

"Ah, fuck," you moan as your eyes roll back. Your hands are clutching the sheets, and he grins, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves. You gasp, your hips jerking, and he grabs them, holding you in place as he begins to lick and suck.

He wastes no time, his tongue and lips reacquainting themselves with your folds, and the taste of you is enough to make him dizzy. It's sweet and salty, familiar and unfamiliar, and Hunter can't get enough. He buries his face in your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue probes your entrance.

"Oh, Hunter, yes," you pant, your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair. He grins against you at the praise, his tongue plunging inside, and you let out a strangled moan.

He eats you out with enthusiasm, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. He's not sure how long he spends there, his face buried between your thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at your cunt. It could be hours, or mere minutes, but he doesn't care. It's perfect, the feeling of you underneath him, the way your body writhes, the noises falling from your lips.

He fucks you with his tongue, his grip on your thighs tightening, and your back arches, a desperate whine escaping you.

"Fuck, yes, Hunter," you cry out, your legs wrapping around his head, locking him in place. He moans, his tongue plunging deeper, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He can't stop himself, his movements becoming frantic, desperate.

He needs more, craves it. Wants to feel you come apart, to know that it's his name on your lips. That it's his touch making you lose your careful composure.

"That's it," he groans, his breath hot against your pussy. "Come on my face, sweetheart."

He's not sure if it's the words or the way he thrusts his tongue inside, curling and stroking, but something sends you over the edge, and he's rewarded with a choked cry and a gush of slick heat as you clamp down around him.

Your toes curl, your back arching off the bed, and Hunter has to hold you down, his grip tightening as his mouth continues its relentless assault. Your walls pulse around him, clenching and releasing, and he lets out a growl, his tongue pushing deeper.

"Kriff," you moan, your hands clutching at his hair, pulling and tugging. He lets out a muffled groan, his eyes slipping shut, and he savors the feeling, the taste, the smell.

The fact that it's you, that he's the one who got you here, who made you come undone, is enough to send a wave of pleasure coursing through him. It's addicting, the feeling of having you like this, and he can't help the surge of satisfaction that comes with the knowledge that no one else has ever seen you this way. And if he has his way, no one ever will.

"Force, I missed that," he says once you finally relax, your legs falling from his shoulders. He licks his lips, grinning, and wipes his chin with the back of his hand.

"Me too," you breathe, propping yourself up on your elbows. "That was incredible."

"Yeah?" he asks, crawling up your body. He plants a kiss on your sternum, moving higher until his mouth finds yours. You return his messy kiss eagerly, moaning when you taste yourself on his tongue, and he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

"Mmhm," you sigh.

"Good," he murmurs, kissing you again. His tongue probes your mouth, searching for every last drop of sweetness. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he grunts, his cock twitching at the feeling.

"Need you," you whisper, breaking the kiss. Your hands slip down, coming to rest on his ass. You give him a squeeze, a playful grin on your lips, and Hunter can't stop the smirk that pulls at his mouth.

"Patience, sweetheart," he says. "We've got all the time in the galaxy."

"No," you shake your head, hooking your leg around his waist. You pull him closer, the hard line of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit, and you moan, grinding against him. "I need you now."

"Kriff," he groans, his head falling forward. The heat is radiating off of you, and he can't stop himself from pushing against you, seeking relief. "Yeah, alright. But I wanna take my time with you."

"We can take our time later," you promise. You tug at his underwear, pulling the fabric down his thighs, and he kicks them off, sighing in relief as his cock springs free. A pleased noise escapes you at the sight of him, hard and straining, and your other leg wraps around him, urging him on.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, his hips rolling. His cock is trapped between the two of you, sliding through your slick folds, and the sensation is almost too much.

"Please," you beg, tilting your hips upwards. You're soaking wet, the head of his cock sliding through the mess, and it's all he can do not to sink inside you.

"Fuck," he hisses. His grip on your waist tightens, and he presses a kiss to your neck, his lips tracing a path along the curve. You moan, arching into him, and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another messy kiss. He can feel the desire pouring off you, the need coursing through your veins, and it's overwhelming. He doesn’t even notice your legs tightening around him, not until you flip him over, and suddenly you're on top of him, straddling his lap.

"Shit," he gasps, his eyes wide. "That was—"

"Fast?" you finish. He nods, swallowing hard, and you laugh, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “I think you forgot what I am, Hunter."

"Never," he whispers, his hands roaming up and down your thighs. He takes in the view, his eyes trailing over the length of your body, from the flush on your cheeks to the way your breasts sway with every breath, to the glistening wetness coating your thighs and the base of his cock. "You're incredible."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm," he hums. His gaze drifts up, meeting yours, and he smiles, the sight of you making his heart swell. "You're perfect."

"I love you," you say, and Hunter can't help the warmth that spreads through him at the words. He's heard them a hundred times before, but each time, it still feels new. Like the first time.

"I love you, too," he replies. His fingers brush over your clit, gathering the wetness, and he slides his hand down, taking himself in his fist. "Ready?"

"Yes," you breathe.

You rise up onto your knees, placing a hand on his chest for balance, and Hunter guides himself to your entrance. His cock slides between your folds, the tip nudging at your entrance, and you both moan, the sound mixing together.

Hunter has to fight to keep his eyes open, to keep his hands steady. He wants to watch as you sink down on his cock, to see the pleasure wash over you as he fills you. He knows what it feels like, to be buried inside you, and it's always been intoxicating, but now? After everything that's happened, after the fear and the pain and the longing, to have you back in his arms?

It's beyond words. Beyond comprehension.

He doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve you.

But he'll never stop trying.

You let out a gasp as he pushes inside, his cock stretching and filling you, and Hunter has to grit his teeth, his hands tightening on your hips. The heat is incredible, the feeling of being buried deep inside, and he groans, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart," he grunts. His eyes are locked on where the two of you are joined, watching as you slowly slide down the length of his cock. "You're so tight."

"It's been a while," you say, your breath coming in short pants. Your brow is furrowed, your teeth biting into your bottom lip, and Hunter has to bite back a groan.

"I know," he breathes. His hands caress your sides, his fingers skimming over the soft skin, and he feels your body relax. You're fully seated on his cock now, and Hunter can feel the way your cunt flutters around him, squeezing him tight. You tremble, and he reaches up, cupping your face.

"You alright?" he asks, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You nod, the corners of your mouth curling upwards.

"It's been a long time. Need a minute."

"Take all the time you need," he says.

"Thank you," you smile, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

You sit there, staring into his eyes, the two of you just existing. He doesn't mind it. Doesn't care about anything other than the feeling of being inside you. He can't believe he forgot what this was like, how perfect it is, how much he loves it. How much he loves you.

The urge to keep you here, to never let you go, to keep you safe and warm and loved and happy is overwhelming, and he can't help but reach out, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. He wonders if this is what it feels like to drown. If this is how people describe being swept away, pulled under the waves by the current, never to surface again.

He wonders if this is what they mean when they talk about being lost in someone.

Because he is. He's completely and utterly lost. Lost in you. Lost in the warmth of your gaze, the softness of your touch, the scent of your skin, the feeling of your body surrounding him, your heart beating in sync with his own.

He knows, in this moment, that he's not just in love with you. That he's not just madly infatuated with the woman in his arms. He's lost, and there's no coming back. He's yours. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that you belong to him. That the two of you are bound together. That there's no one else for him. No one else he wants. Just you.

It's not the first time he's felt it, this overwhelming sense of love. But it's the first time it's hit him so hard. Maybe because it's the first time it's been this intense, this all-consuming. Maybe because it's the first time he's actually understood what it means. What it truly means.

Maybe because it's the first time he's truly believed it.

"Hunter?"

You're staring at him, concern etched across your features, and he realizes, with a start, that tears are rolling down his cheeks. He hadn't noticed.

"Sorry," he mutters, hastily wiping his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says.

"Are you sure?" you ask. "Because I've never seen you cry before."

"I'm okay," he says, smiling softly. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed, I guess."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he nods. He sits up, bracing his back against the headboard as his hands cup your cheeks. "I'm more than fine."

"Okay," you say, giving him a worried smile. His thumb smooths the crease between your brows, and he presses a gentle kiss in its place.

"I promise," he murmurs as he leans his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"Love you too," you whisper. You place a hand on his chest, just above his heart, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

"I don't say it enough," he says, his voice hoarse. "But I mean it. Every time."

"I know," you assure him. You kiss his cheek, your lips trailing over the curve. "You don't have to say it. I know. I can feel it. I always have."

"Good," he sighs. His hands move up and down your back, the tips of his fingers gliding over your spine. "Never forget it."

"I won't," you promise.

He holds you there, your foreheads pressed together, your noses touching. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of you wash over him. It calms him, soothes him, and he feels his heart slow, his breathing evening out.

You shift, lifting your hips, and he gasps, the feeling of your cunt gripping his cock sending a jolt of pleasure through him. You smile, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I'm okay," he whispers, his hands moving to grip your hips.

"Good," you say, your lips brushing over his. You start to move, rising up onto your knees before sinking back down. You both groan, the feeling of being joined sending a surge of warmth through him.

"Kriff," Hunter rasps as your hands find his shoulders, your fingers digging into the muscle, and you lift yourself up again, repeating the motion. His head falls back against the headboard with a dull thump, and you smile, your teeth scraping over the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

"How's that feel?"

"So good," he breathes.

"Yeah?" you hum, rocking against him.

You're moving slowly, the pace torturous, and Hunter can't help but grind his hips upwards, trying to speed things along. You're having none of it, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the bed.

"Slow," you order.

"Can't," he groans. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he pulls you down, forcing himself deeper as his hips buck up into you.

"Why not?"

"Need more," he pants.

"Hmm," you murmur, nipping at his throat. "I thought we were going to take our time."

"Changed my mind."

"Too bad," you smirk.

Your lips find his, capturing him in a heated kiss, and Hunter moans, his mouth parting for you. Your tongue sweeps through his mouth, seeking his own, and he can't stop the desperate noise that escapes him as you taste him. He tries to move, to thrust up into you, but a weight presses down on him, holding him in place. He knows without looking that the Force is holding him down, keeping him still, and a thrill runs through him, the realization making him even harder.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"What was that?"

"Kriff, I hate when you do that," he mutters, glaring up at you.

"Do what?" you ask, feigning innocence.

"That." He jerks his chin towards the invisible pressure pinning him to the bed. "You know exactly what."

"No idea what you're talking about," you grin. You're still moving, the movement slow and steady, and Hunter lets out a low whine, his eyes slipping shut.

"You're insufferable," he huffs, his head falling back.

"I think you're the one being insufferable," you tease, placing a hand on his chest. You run your fingers through the coarse hair, dragging them down until they brush over the base of his cock. "If I recall, you were the one who said we should take our time."

"Well, maybe I was wrong."

"Oh, I don't know," you say, your fingers tracing the edge of his hip bone. "I think it's nice."

"It is," he concedes, hissing as you squeeze his balls. "But it's not enough."

"No?"

"No," he says, opening his eyes. He looks up at you, taking in the sight. Your skin is flushed, your lips swollen and parted, your eyes glassy and filled with desire. He swallows hard, his hands tightening on your hips. He knows there will be marks tomorrow, a reminder of what happened tonight, and the thought makes him twitch inside you.

"So impatient," you tut.

"Yeah," he agrees. "You're so kriffing gorgeous. And I want you so badly. Always. I can't get enough of you."

"Hunter," you gasp, grinding down on him.

"Yeah," he breathes, his eyes drifting down to where the two of you are joined. Your cunt is stretched tight around his cock, and Hunter lets out a moan, the sight making his mouth water. He's always loved watching you take his cock, loved the way it looked as it slid in and out of your wet heat, loved the way it felt, being inside you. But now, after everything? After almost losing you?

"Force, I can't get over how beautiful you are," he whispers.

You're moving faster now, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, and the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing.

"Fuck," you cry out as he hits that spot deep inside, and Hunter lets out a grunt, his hands finding your breasts.

"There you go," he says. He palms the soft flesh, his fingers finding your nipples, and he pinches them, rolling the stiff buds between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh," you moan, arching into his touch. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Yes," you nod, rocking against him. You're bouncing on his cock, the bed shaking with each thrust, and Hunter can't tear his eyes away. He's transfixed, unable to look anywhere else. You're a vision, sweat beading on your brow, your body trembling as the pleasure builds.

His hands find your ass, pulling you down onto his cock, and he can feel the muscles flexing beneath his fingertips. He can feel his climax approaching, his balls tightening, the pressure building. He's not ready for this to end, not yet, so he grits his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he pants, his hands roaming over the curve of your ass, squeezing and groping.

"Mmhm," you nod. You're leaning forward now, your hands braced on his chest as you ride him. Your nails rake across his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake, and his hips twitch, trying to thrust up into you. The weight keeps him in place, and he lets out a frustrated groan.

"That's it," he coos. He can feel the tension in your thighs, the way your legs are shaking, and he knows you're close. He grips your ass tighter, helping you keep pace, and you whimper, your movements becoming erratic.

"Please," you plead, and he can't deny you, not when you're begging.

His fingers find your clit, his thumb rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves. Your head falls forward, your hair falling over your face, and Hunter reaches up, brushing the strands aside.

"Come for me," he says, his voice hoarse. “Come for me, and then I’m gonna fill you up."

"Yes," you gasp.

"You wanna feel it, don't you?" he murmurs. He's barely holding on now, the heat pooling in his belly threatening to overwhelm him. "Want me to fill you up, mark you as mine. Make you mine."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, grinding against him. "More, please, please, please, I need—"

He flicks his thumb over your clit, pressing down hard. Your breath hitches, your walls fluttering around his cock, and Hunter watches, mesmerized, as you shudder above him. You're staring at him, your pupils blown wide, your hair a mess, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

"There it is," he growls. The weight pressing down on him disappears, and he grabs your waist, flipping you over. Your back hits the mattress, your legs wrapped around his hips, and he pounds into you, chasing his own release.

"Yes," you cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your mouth finds his, swallowing his moans, as his cock pistons in and out of your dripping cunt.

He fucks you, hard and fast, the bed creaking underneath the two of you. You're clinging to him, your nails scratching his back, and he knows there will be marks, knows that he's probably hurting you, but he can't stop, can't slow down. He's so close, the pressure building, the pleasure coiling deep inside, and he's desperate for it, his thrusts becoming frantic.

"Gonna fill you up," he gasps.

"Please," you beg, and that's all it takes.

His orgasm hits him hard, and he cries out, his hips jerking erratically as he spills inside you. He buries his face in your neck, biting and sucking, and you whimper, your legs tightening around his waist.

"Fuck, yes," you groan, and Hunter can feel the warmth of his spend leaking out of you, the mess coating his cock, dripping down his thighs. It's intoxicating, and he can't stop himself from thrusting deeper, trying to make sure every drop is buried inside you.

"Oh, Hunter," you moan. Your hands are on his ass, pulling him closer, urging him on. He grinds his hips against you, and you sigh, a lazy smile spreading across your lips.

"Good?" he asks, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Perfect," you whisper. You cup his face, and he leans into the touch, his eyelids fluttering as he savors the feeling.

He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to let go. He's perfectly content to stay like this, holding you, his cock buried deep inside you, your hands stroking his face. You're watching him, your eyes roaming over his body, and he preens under the attention, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well," he huffs, "I hope that was worth the wait."

"It was," you nod. You pull him closer, his head resting on your chest, and he lets out a sigh, his body relaxing.

"You alright?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the swell of your breast.

"Mmhm," you nod. Your hands are tracing patterns over his skin, fingers trailing across his back, and he can't help but shiver, goosebumps erupting in their wake.

"I'm not too heavy?"

"Not at all," you say. Your fingers move up, combing through his hair, and Hunter practically purrs, a low rumble rising from his chest.

"Good," he sighs. He tilts his head, his nose brushing against the hollow of your throat, and he inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal still thick in the air. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, and he shivers, the sensation sending a tingle down his spine.

"Hey," you murmur, and he hums in response. He shifts his weight, settling his elbows on either side of your head, and kisses your cheek.

"Hi," he whispers, his breath ghosting across your skin. He leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. You return the kiss eagerly, a soft moan escaping you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he goes willingly, his hips grinding against you.

"Mm, again?" you giggle, your teeth scraping over his bottom lip.

"If you're up for it," he says, grinning.

"I'm always up for it," you smirk. You roll your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist. He's still half-hard, his cock slowly swelling, and he can't stop the groan that rumbles in his chest.

"Good." Hunter grins, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you."

"Well, we've got plenty of time," you breathe.

"Plenty," he echoes, his hands finding your hips. "Let's make the most of it, then."

And he does.

He spends the rest of the night worshiping you, his mouth and hands mapping every inch of your skin. He leaves no part of you untouched, his lips and tongue and fingers exploring every inch, and you do the same. The two of you take turns, exploring and teasing, pleasuring and loving, until you're both too exhausted to continue.

Afterwards, you lie together, his arm draped over your waist, his nose buried in the crook of your neck. Hunter inhales deeply, the familiar scent filling his nostrils, and he lets out a content sigh. He can feel the ache in his limbs, and he's suddenly aware of how tired he is. He doesn't remember the last time he slept, and he can't even recall the last time he was able to relax. It feels like forever since he's felt this good, this safe.

This happy.

"I love you,” you murmur as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

"I love you, too," he whispers, his voice thick.

"I know," you chuckle, and he smiles against your neck.

You're both still breathing hard, chests heaving, bodies sticky with sweat, and he revels in the feeling, his arms tightening around you. He can't stop himself from kissing you, peppering your neck with gentle kisses, his lips ghosting over the delicate skin.

He makes his way up to your jaw, then your cheek, before finally meeting your mouth. It's slow, tender, filled with a sense of intimacy he hasn't felt in a long time, and it's enough to make him tear up. His hand cradles your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin, and he closes his eyes, savoring the moment.

He never thought he'd have this. Never thought he'd get a chance.

And now that he does? Now that he's got you here, in his arms, where he's meant to be?

"I'm not letting you go again," he mumbles, his forehead pressed against yours. "I don't care what it takes, I'm not letting anyone or anything take you from me."

"Hunter," you start, but he cuts you off.

"I know. I know, you can handle yourself, you're more than capable. I know all that. But I'm still going to be there. I'm always going to be there."

"I know," you say, your hand cupping his cheek.

"Do you?"

His eyes search yours, searching for any hint of hesitation, any sign of doubt. He finds none. Just warmth. Just love.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Good," he nods. He pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing you like this, bare and vulnerable, looking at him like that. Like he's the only person who matters.

"I meant what I said earlier," he says. "About wanting a family. A future."

"Me too," you smile.

"Really?"

"Yes," you nod, placing a hand on his chest. Your fingertips trace over the curve of his collarbone, and he shivers. "I want that with you. I always have."

"Even after everything?"

"Especially after everything," you assure him. "I've always wanted a future with you, Hunter. Ever since we met. I know you're scared. I am too. But I love you, and I want this. Us. All of it."

"Okay," he says, smiling.

"Okay," you repeat, returning the smile.

He pulls you into another kiss, his hand cradling the back of your neck, and the two of you stay like that, kissing and touching and loving, until exhaustion takes over. You curl up against him, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and he feels his eyes begin to droop. He can't remember the last time he was this relaxed, the last time he was this comfortable. The last time he felt so safe. So loved.

And for the first time in a long time, Hunter doesn't worry. He doesn't stress. He doesn't plan.

Instead, he closes his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, and he lets the world fade away.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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#hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #tbb hunter #the bad batch #clone x reader #the clone wars #roy writes #i'm gonna need someone to stand next to me and spray me with a bottle of water like a misbehaving cat when i hit 10k words #also this was the last of my current requests!#i am ashamed it took me so long

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sanakiras · 3 months ago

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TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts! this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader #svthub #seungcheol x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups angst #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol ff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt ff #svt oneshot #svt angst #svt fluff

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joelalorian · 9 months ago

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Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #eventual romance

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luvtak · 2 years ago

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Dating Stray Kids

❀ seriously criminal amounts of fluff. mostly gender neutral and basically unedited :/

❀ a/n this took years cause theres so many of them but i hope it doesn’t flop 💖💖 love you guys!!!

❀ w/c 2419

Chan: You were never even dating this man, you went from friends to married in like three days—one day you were single and then you were a mother to seven boys. So many days sitting in his studio listening to what he’s conjured up. Never leaves in the morning without giving you a kiss. Always looking out for you, walks on the busy side of the street and puts his hand up to shield your head when you get in the car. Listens so attentively whenever you’re speaking to him. Wraps you up in his clothes and the warmest blankets when you say you’re cold. When he can sleep, he lays directly on top of you. Is always asking how you are and genuinely wants to know all your daily ailments. Slightly teases you then hugs you so tight if he sees it annoyed you. Will kiss you anywhere and everywhere, then gets shy when he realizes you’re not alone. Is interested in all your interests. Hands are never kept to himself; he is all over you 100% of the time, always smiling when you’re around. Brings home little trinkets from tour that made him think of you. Writes you songs, unlike Jisung they are really sweet and poetic. Calls you all sorts of little names and giggles when you smile about it. Cuddles with you all night even if he can’t fall asleep. Leaves blankets and snacks in his studio for when you come visit. Texts you to watch channies room then gets shy when you actually do. Miraculously pulls out an extra sweater for you and pretends like he doesn’t always carry one around for you. Always has an arm around you or a hand in your pocket. Cradles you like a baby when you’re sad. He just loves you sm and takes care of you like your another one of his little ducks.

Minho: So lovely, but also your nemesis—kisses you then tells you your hair looks silly, or your outfit doesn’t match. Packs you lunches and reminds you to bring a coat. Is always telling you to text him when you get home, he doesn’t want to be controlling but he gets so worried. Says I love you first then acts all cocky when you say it back. I feel like he does things for you under the guise of you doing it wrong, when the truth is he just likes doing things for you. Never shows physical affection in front of other people but speaks to you in the sweetest tone, it’s almost more intimate. Washes your face for you and helps put you into pajamas when you’re too sleepy to do it. When you can’t sleep, he’ll lay next to you and tell you funny stories until you pass out. Kisses you all over your face when you’re sad. Fiddles with all your jewelry, he’s so gentle with it you don’t notice until you realize a ring is missing and see it on his pinkie. Thinks you’re so cute, sometimes he can’t help but talk to you like you’re one of his cats. Hugs you so so so tight and presses soft kisses in your hair. Tells you he misses you then threatens you to not tell anyone what he said. Takes you on special dates for no reason other than to make you smile. Calls you a certain pet name so often sometimes the boys forget its not your name. He not so secretively treasures you and makes sure you know when his teasing goes a little too far—you’re just so precious to him it’s hard for him to express in words.

Changbin: Super domestic and accepting. You could seriously tell him anything and he’d be like “okay, that’s great, honey!” Takes you to the gym with him and kisses you after every set. Loves sitting and doing nothing with you. Genuinely thinks you’re the most wonderful thing he has ever encountered. Constantly trying to impress you: flexing when he knows you’re looking, telling his best jokes when you’re around, bringing home expensive dinners. Pulls you into his arms to dance while you cook for him. Your biggest hype man and will never hear you say anything negative about yourself. Is always trying to pick you up, you could be dating for five years, and he'd still be giving out pick up lines. Whenever you hurt yourself, he’s going to kiss it better, no matter how dramatic it is—you have a splinter, here’s a kiss! You’re in the hospital, another kiss! Pretends to like things just because you do. Literally never says no to you. He talks about you so much; all the boys know everything about you before they even meet you. Every time he sees you, he’s going to lift you up and spin you around like you’re in some cheesy movie just so you’ll laugh. Always hugging you. #1 advocate for daily naps just so you can cuddle. Talks about your future like its already set in stone, like you’re getting married no matter what. Is so proud of you and the fact you’re together—Only has good things to say. Gifts you so many stuffed animals to cuddle with when he’s away. Calls you the most nauseatingly sweet pet names and holds you like your porcelain. You’re literally his little baby and he’s going to love and care for you if it’s the last thing he does.

Hyunjin: The most intimate and earnest boyfriend. Even if you’re the two most different people he convinces you you’re soulmates, you’re split aparts fr. Constantly playing with your hair. Tells everyone he doesn’t like skinship then wraps himself around you. Says something really sweet then acts all shy when three months later you’re watching a drama and the romantic lead says the same line. Uses your shower stuff and perfume so he can smell like you. Kisses every mole and stretch mark he can see. Whenever he sees something pretty he tells you it reminds him of you before roasting you within an inch of your life. Your house slowly becomes his house because suddenly everything he’s ever bought ends up there. CEO of romantic gestures—sends you flowers every chance he gets, writes love letters, and paints pictures. Wears a locket with your picture in it. Has a polaroid of you in his phone case. Sends you stupid tiktok’s and all he says is “it’s you.” So many bookstore and art museum dates. Late nights filled with dramas and skincare—after every step he gets a kiss! Thinks everything you say is funny. Loves you so much sometimes all he can do is cry because you’ll never know. Loves seeing you get along with the boys but as soon as one gets a little too close, he’s shooting them the biggest side eye. Always has snacks on hand for you—biggest fear is of hangry you. So tender and empathetic that when you get upset, he also starts getting emotional. Sometimes when you’re out together he gets really quiet and when you turn to see what’s wrong, he is just staring at you before he breaks out in a huge smile. Life with him is full of giggles. You’re his favorite person in the whole world and he’s yours!

Jisung: So deeply infatuated with you he couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. Every time he looks at you, he gets all moony eyed. Is always touching you in some way—hand on your thigh while you’re eating, arm around your waist while you walk together. Has lists of movies you need to watch together in his notes app. You’re a very cozy couple, almost always in pajamas and watching a Miyazaki movie. Definitely writes you songs, but not sweet ones they’re the worst improvised lines about how much he loves you. For all his goofy antics, as soon as you’re alone he’s becomes so quietly domestic—bringing home dinners and doing facemasks. Begs you to watch scary movies with him so he can have an excuse to baby you after. Talks about you nonstop, tells the boys jokes you told him just so he can say “isn’t my s/o so funny?’ Cuddle monster—needs them or he’ll start being mean to all the boys. If you’re someone who wears heels, he’d def be the kind of boyfriend to walk barefoot in his socks so you could wear his sneakers. Pulls at your cheeks and coos like you’re a baby. Takes so many photos of you from awful angles and won’t listen when you tell him you look terrible. So many forehead kisses. Has never called you your name since you got together, it’s always baby, and if you even dare to call him Jisung he’s going to have a breakdown trying to figure out what he did. Hands are permanently linked. Never leaves a conversation without an “I love you.” He thinks the world of you, so fond of everything you are and makes sure you never forget it<3

Felix: So so so so precious. The perfect boy, so sweet and tender you could never second guess his feelings. Loves so hard and so deep that everyone who looks at the two you knows just how he feels. He’s so open with all his feelings, you almost never fight. The kind of boy who brushes your hair and rubs lotion onto your legs. Compliments you every day, and not just saying you’re pretty, but the most earth-shattering no other compliment could ever measure up compliment. Is so interested in you, tries to learn everything he can. Since you met this boy, you have not tied your own shoes once, does it for you every time. Matching everything, wants everyone to know you’re together, as if anyone couldn’t pick it up from the way he’s draped all over you. Favorite thing on earth is when you sit with him doing nothing, he could be doing something he’s done a million times, but as soon as you’re around its better. Presses the softest kisses all around your face—nose, eyes, then lips, every morning to wake you up. Sings with you so loud in the car to all your favorite songs. #1 PDA advocate—does not care who’s around he will be affectionate. Always fiddling with your clothes. Makes you sweet treats and tells you they’re made with love. Could listen to you forever, sometimes he’ll bring up something he knows you love just so he can hear you toddling on. Buys you too many presents but will never accept you spending money on him. Never lets you walk home alone or open the door for yourself—if he can do it for you he’s doing it. Loves you so deeply you can feel it in every word.

Seungmin: Such a bully boyfriend. Never lets you live—if he can find a joke in it, he’s saying it, but at the same time never lets you second guess how he feels. While he won’t be lovey dovey all the time, but you can feel his affection in how he takes care of you—If you ask him to do something he’s going to complain, but that doesn’t mean he’s not doing it. Makes bad jokes so he can kiss the disappointment of your face. Orders your favorite for dinner and acts like its no big deal. Pretends not to but relishes in your affection. Will stop whatever he’s doing as soon as you say his name a little too seriously. Super shy with PDA but is constantly holding your hand. Is always talking about you, telling the other Kids stories about you until they have to tell him to shut up. Your biggest fan: puts up your graduation picture and top graded essay up on the fridge and is always bragging about you to others. Sings you to sleep when you’re tossing and turning. Teases you all the time but as soon as someone else does they better run for cover. Remembers every little detail about your life, even things that you’ve forgotten. Is secretly very sentimental and has all sorts of keepsakes about you and your relationship. Is not going to be all over you in public, but as soon as you’re alone he’s in your arms and telling you how much he cares about you. If you’re ever sad he’s going to be cracking all sorts of jokes just to you see you smile before he asks you what happened. He’s so silly but so so sweet, you never go a day without laughing.

Jeongin: The sweetest and cutest! Obviously super smiley, but with you his smile is somehow even bigger. Loves to match with you and help pick out your outfits. I do think if his s/o was someone who got their nails done that he’d love to pick out the design. Always packs snacks for you in his practice bag and an extra hoodie in case you get cold. While he may not be the most openly affectionate, he quite literally brings you everywhere, you’re like his third arm. Peppers sweet little kissies all over your knuckles when you’re not paying attention to him. Laughs at all your jokes even if they’re not funny. Thinks you’re the cutest!! Sends all sorts of funny pictures when he’s away so you don’t miss him too much. Constantly teases you just so he can see you roll your eyes at him. Pulls you into every photobooth he sees. Buys a bottle of your perfume to bring with him on tour. Fusses over you all the time—fixing your clothes and making sure you’re warm enough. Acts all tough in front of his hyungs but as soon as you’re alone he’s begging for cuddles. Makes playlists of all your favorite songs to play when you’re in the car. I think he’ d be too shy to call you pet names but he always says your name so soft and sweet its like he’s calling you one. Sings every love song like they’re for you. If your hair is long enough to put up in a pony tail he will tug on it, not too hard or anything, but just enough for it to be annoying. Both his wallpaper and lock screen are of you all cuddled up together. Very in love with you and even if he doesn’t express it in words everyone around you knows.

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ofjunemoment · 1 year ago

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getting even | lee haechan (P1)

synopsis — Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.

pairing - haechan x fem!reader

genre - university!au, (one-sided) enemies, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, very slice of life, eventual smut (MDNI)

Wc - 11.6k

content - clubbing scene, reader is drunk at one point, random idols mentioned, university settings

warnings: mentions of throwing up (nothing too detailed)

a/n - hi lovelies <3 heres the first part to getting even!!! while i was writing the story i noticed it was getting very long (and i still have like... five more scenes to write lol) so i thought of getting this out first ^^ not a lot happens here but stay tuned for the next part because.. a lot.. happens there hehe. i hope you enjoy readingggg!!

Walking into your lecture, your eyes scan around to find an empty spot to occupy, but you were pleasantly surprised to see your friend Naeun sitting in one corner, leaning back as she scrolls through her phone. She beams when she sees you, patting the seat next to hers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You plop down your bag next to your chair, teasing her from the get-go. She whines shyly at your callout.

“I was struck with academic motivation never felt before. It felt like I was destined to come in today and be as studious as possible,” She points towards the lecture, which is barely filled with students. It’s a nine a.m. lecture, but you decided to come in early today to snag a good seat that lets your focus on the lecture with your upcoming assignment that's due; Naeun on the other hand barely comes in after the first two weeks of the semester, regardless of what time the lecture is. If it’s not mandatory, why go?

Her motto is what makes you raise your eyebrow at her now, scanning her figure as if to fish out the real reason why she’s here.

“Don’t look at me like that! I actually came in to study today,” you raise your hands in self-defence, looking away from her with a giggle, opting to stop teasing her.

But not even a minute later, she cracks; “Okay, fine. If you keep insisting me to tell you I guess I have no choice,”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I heard from Haneul who heard from Heejin’s girlfriend who was at that book club meeting with Renjun, which for some reason thought Norwegian Wood the book didn’t match the song, which is such a hot take that only he would take. Anyways,” She crosses her leg over her knee, leaning in as if to tell you a secret, manicured hands cupping the side of her face.

“Haechan might pull something today, at this lecture.” You barely caught her words, but after a few seconds of taking in what she said, you lean back and look at her with wide eyes.

“Haechan? I thought he was finished?” Naeun nods her head at lightning speed, her expression matching yours too.

“See, that’s what I thought too, but apparently he only had some sort of weird writer's block but for his pranks. I think he missed all the attention he used to get, not that he’s any less popular now, but you know what I mean,” You, in fact, have no idea what she means. But with the new information that you’re now fed, you’re hyperaware of your surroundings, looking around for any abnormalities within your vicinity.

Ever since the orientation of the first year of your course, when you met Naeun and had to fight against falling asleep with all the alcohol the seniors were feeding you as a sort of welcoming ritual, Haechan had already made a solid impression on everyone. With the seniors pushing all the first-year students to drink, Haechan had gotten into a bit of trouble for refusing to drink something they’ve poured out for him, as the older guys go around with mindless gossiping, stating how much of a prune he is and that he’s just ruining the fun, all while they stick around girls who are out of their league.

Later that day, Haechan had made a few drinks for the few who he had angered as a form of apology. With his head bowed in tow, he honestly looked like he was asking for their forgiveness.

“It was careless of me to disrespect my seniors so blatantly like this, could you accept these as an apology? I’ll even pour out the soju for you.” With the bottle in his hand, his other hand cradled his elbow, showing respect as he barely met their eyes. The seniors were ready to make him work for it more, but with the way he was bowed in front of everyone in the hall, it looked like they were picking on the poor boy.

“Ah, Haechan, you don’t have to do that.” One of them chuckles. “We were just joking aroun—”

“Please! Just accept this, I don’t know how I can last the rest of my uni years knowing that I had disrespected you on my very first day.” He shouts in his high-pitched voice, making the already quiet hall of murmuring people all go silent. The seniors were now all flustered, before being ushered to take the cups Haechan had provided, waiting for him to pour them drinks.

From the corner of the table, you were slumped against, you remember two things very vividly that night; one, Naeun was an only child, which we can definitely work with. And two, when Haechan looked up at the second and third years of his major accepting his drinks, his grateful smile was laced with some sort of sinister glint.

As the seniors grumble in embarrassment while Haechan finishes pouring each one of them a drink, they swish their cups around as if it’s wine, delaying drinking from them while Haechan insists on signifying their bond with a toast.

“To my seniors, I hope to perform up to your expectations,” And with the tip of their cups in an imaginary circle, everyone cheered ‘one-shot’ as the seniors down their drinks. Haechan merely sipped his, and you had noticed his lips tilting to one corner, and even in your drunk state, you knew something was off.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the seniors all started coughing wildly, some clutching the corner of a table or one anothers’ shoulders, seeming like they were coughing their lungs out.

Turns out that Haechan had slipped hot sauce into the drinks, creating a fusion of different burning sensations to travel down their throats as they drink the alcohol in one shot. Instead of being chastised, he was cheered on by the other first years who were either tipsy or barely hanging on. Ever since then, he was known to pull pranks every now and then, most harmless, some embarrassing, but nothing serious and nothing to spite anyone. Like tampering with clocks in the lecture halls, making them chime a tune every ten minutes, or when he had swapped his blonde friend Jeno’s shampoo with a firetruck red dye, leaving his neck and the better part of his forehead red from the dye for days on end. The only prank done with motivation was the first one as if it was some sort of initiation in itself.

“Wait, at this lecture? But there’s barely anyone here. Doesn’t Haechan carry out his pranks with a full-blown audience at tow?” Naeun shushes at your words, trying to get you to quiet down with your words, but it was too late. The deed was done as the guy from behind you perks up at your conversation, leaning into your conversation bubble.

You recognise him as Sunwoo, as he quickly shifts his gaze between the two of you. “Haechan’s doing something today? Like, at this lecture?”

“Oh.. well, I wouldn’t say so,”

“Naeun,” He turns to your friend, and you look at her with doom written on both of your faces. Naeun can’t lie to save her life, most people know that by now, but never really have the balls to test the theory. Until now, of course.

“Naeun, is Haechan gonna pull a prank today?”

“Naeun, remember what we talked about restraint.” You tried to keep her attention on you, knowing that if her gaze wandered to the boy, she would break.

“Come on Naeun,” Sunwoo whines now, stomping his feet, making you look at him with disgust written on your face at his sudden burst of cuteness. “Just say yes or no. Ywes or nwo.”

“Dude, gross,” You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to finally relent. Naeun squeezes her eyes shut.

“Pwetty pwease?”

“Fine! Fuck, oh my god. Yes, he is, Haechan is maybe doing something today.” She leans back into her chair, chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon. “I hated that, please don’t ever do that again.” Sunwoo winks at you two as he suddenly stands straight in his seat.

With hands cupped around his mouth, he shouts out. “Hey everyone! Haechan is pulling a prank today! Tell all your friends to be careful, and to keep their cameras rolling! Remember to post it on the campus’ blog!” And with that, phones chime as people text and call the imminent news. You and Naeun look at each other, defeated.

“At least they don’t know that we spread it?” You try, shoulders now hunched in as Naeun rubs at her temples.

“Oh! Also, it was these two who told me, so you should thank them!” Sunwoo yells one last time as he points at the two of you, with some hoots and cheers now being sent your way. You two shrink into yourselves even more.

“Haneul is never gonna invite me out for bubble tea ever again,”

As the lecture hall fills up to its max capacity, everyone is on the edge of their seat, waiting for something to happen. The star of the show himself is nowhere to be seen, but his friends are huddled in their usual corner, trying their best to smile kindly and repeat on about how they ‘don’t know what Haechan is up to. Can I send him a text to see where he is? Why are you telling me what to do—’. Thankfully Jeno was able to stop Renjun from pouncing anyone, even though they both knew nothing would’ve happened.

The lecturer seems over the moon to have the hall filled as much as it is, excitedly explaining statistics and their significance in the current world. She doesn’t seem to notice that the majority are here for some sort of public performance and not the different ways you can find the probability of whatever it is she’s droning on about. You try your best to nod when she looks towards your general direction.

As the lecture ends, people grow restless with the lack of action in the last two hours. But no one had dared to step out of the hall, much less out of their seats in fear of something happening. But when the lecturer thanks everyone for joining her this week and talks about gratitude, people slump into their chairs, grumbling and huffing about their time being wasted. Everyone starts packing straight away, slowly maneuvering to the exit as they cook up theories about why Haechan had gone so long without a prank, and how the word got spread in the first place. You and Naeun sit static in your chairs, not wanting to attract any attention, alongside Haechan’s friends, who merely go on their phones and twirl their pens.

“Do you think this will come back to bite us in our ass?” You’re careful to whisper this time, shoving your laptop into your bag and Naeun clicks her pens closed. She merely shrugs, “I don’t think they even know our names, so I think we should be fine.” You look at the lecturer, who seems to be skipping her way to the exit now, undoubtedly feeling ecstatic at doing her job. As she opens the door and steps to the hall, you last see her beaming smile before a screech echoes out, making everyone stop in their tracks.

The people who were the closest to her are now looking at the ground where she lies, bags and items now askew across the floor outside of the hall. A few step up and help her get up by grasping her wrists, pulling when she seems to have found their bearings. But their effort ends fruitless, as not only does she stay on the floor, but the two people who had helped her also collapse again on the floor.

“What the fuck…” As people go to help their friends and the lecturer from the floor, the three figures on the floor attempt to skid back into the lecture room instead of out. A guy you recognise as Beomgyu looks out onto the hallway outside the lecture hall, before pressing the tip of his shoe against the floor as if to test something. When he pressed his sole against the floor, he tries shifting left and right before pressing his other foot on the floor, rebalancing himself when he’s tilted a bit to the left. You see him squat down and take a big whiff, face confused as he stands back up, but not for long.

Smiling like a radiating child, his laugh echoes throughout the hall as he pulls on his friend Jeongin’s hand to join him. “The floor is covered with butter!”

At that, the once quiet hall grows loud, as people slowly step onto the floor, while some treat it like a skating rink, gliding and spinning right outside the lecture hall.

“The whole floor with butter? When did he have the time to do that?” You question as you now stand with your bag slung over your shoulder. Jeno, who was walking past you with Renjun, turns back to you. “He did it while the lecture was going on. If you can’t handle skidding on the floor, you might wanna use the other door,” And with a blinding smile, he turns back around and heads out the alternative door.

Naeun clutched at your bicep. “Did he talk to us right now? Like, look at us in the eye and speak words?”

You nod your head. “I think you can put your delusional days to an end. He totally likes you,” She smacks your hand as you tease her, but huddles closer nevertheless.

“I am, for once, thankful that you just speak words without thinking,”

You’re tugging at the waist of your skirt as Naeun pulls you by your locked elbows, shoes clicking towards the direction of the club. The Beehive club is known to harbour students of all majors from your university, as it is the closest club to the dorms situated just a five-minute walk away from campus, making socialising as easy as it can get. Naeun had urged for you two to go this week, even when you’d rather rest after giving in the assignment that you were slaving over for the past few days. She insisted that it would be worth this time.

“Haechan finally put a cease in his hiatus. That means he will be at the party, which means Jeno will be at the party, which means I need to make my presence known and somehow rizz him by sending him brainwaves.” She had explained while getting ready, as she blows on her false lashes before putting them on. You sulk from your position in bed, slowly trying to hype yourself up to get ready.

“You’re not even gonna talk to him? What’s the point then?” Naeun groans at that.

“You know that if I open my mouth around him I’ll pee myself. Come on, and you deserve to have some fun after all that hard work,” And so half a bottle of soju and an hour later, you find yourself covering one of your ears as you descend the stairs to the Beehive club. You feel the bass of the song travel up your legs as you enter the club, and are offered free drink coupons. It’s when you’re squeezing a lemon slice into your mouth at the bar that you feel a hand tap against your shoulder. You turn to see Haneul, a grin gleaming even in the dark of the club as she squeals and pulls both you and Naeun into a hug.

“My favourite girls, how have you been?” She shouts against the booming music against your ears, to which you give her a thumbs up while Naeun further squeezes herself against Haneul's figure in excitement, the alcohol already making her feel giddier. She pulls you towards the dance floor, muttering about how she has a VIP booth that someone had offered her, and leads the way. Plopping down, Haneul gestures for staff before saying something into his ear, before giving a wink and pointing at the VIP booth you’re settled at.

As you three start conversing, the staff comes back with more drinks, and Haneul encourages you to drink, assuring you that it’s attached to the tab of the booth. “Some guy called Jay has this booth under his name, and he said to put any drinks I wanted on the tab,” You toast your free drinks against one another, the clink of the glasses barely audible as you each take a sip. Haneul shares the anecdotes and stories that have while she was away on vacation, while you and Naeun nod and react accordingly, slipping in your commentaries at the climax of her stories.

“What about you two? Any news recently?” She takes a sip from her straw as she says this, glancing between the two of you excitedly. You and Naeun share a sheepish glance, knowing neither of you has anything as exciting to share.

“Oh come on, what have you been doing these days?”

“Just work,” Naeun frowns as she says this.

“And school,” You follow up.

“You’re right, and school. And then work again,”

“And scho—”

“You guys are miserable,” Haneul scoffs jokingly. She reaches for the bottle of champagne that's sitting in the ice bucket, grabbing two clean glasses. “Here, have more drinks so you can have something exciting to tell me later on,” Although mixing your drinks is never good, the loud music and the flashing lights encourage you to drink more, and your body craves to let loose.

Two glasses and a twenty-minute dance break later, you’re at a corner of the club huddling near each other. Naeun had caught a glimpse of Jeno at the bar, and the alcohol in her system removed all brain-to-mouth filters she had.

“He’s so—” She cups her face as she hiccups. “So fine. So so fine. You know, when we were at our lecture… the other day with Haechan’s …comeback or, fuck, butter floor, he spoke to us,” Her warm eyes fluttered as she thought back to that moment. “Jeno said real words, in real life and my ear heard them. I think he looked at me too, what the fuck?” She grabs her forehead as if taking the information in for the first time before she presses her head against your shoulder.

“She’s not being delusional, he did speak to us,” You nod your head at Haneul as she shoots you a questioning look, with Naeun clinging onto you harder. “He even helped us go out through the back door so we don’t end up all oily with the butter rink.” Naeun snorts, which catches all of you off guard and even herself, her eyes opening and locking onto something in the middle of the dance floor. Her gaze suddenly shifts, and before you know it she’s shoving her way through the crowd and heading towards her target.

“What is she—? Oh no, fuck,” You gasp while Haneul’s mouth hangs open when you both see Naeun heading toward Jeno, who’s dancing with someone at the moment, at full speed.

Haneul looks at you with contemplation. “I mean… it could turn out for the better?” She tries.

“Or she would wake up embarrassed as fuck for the next week or so,” You contemplate with her. Naeun is never the type to be aggressive, even when she's drunk. The most she’s done once was point a finger at you while she was angry and then look away to calm herself down.

But before you could relax back into your corner, you see her reach up for her earrings.

“Okay, fuck. Take this, I’ll be back,” Shoving your drink in Haneul’s hand, you make your way through the crowd and towards Naeun, rushing before she reaches her imminent doom. Jeno and his dancing partner are oblivious to the devil baby that Naeun takes the form of at the moment, which gives you hope that embarrassment can be evaded.

But then she full-body slams into Haechan.

“Woah,” He places his free hand on her shoulder, stopping her from tipping all the way to the right and losing her balance. The cup in his other hand now seems to be empty as its contents drip from both of their bodies, but Naeun is too drunk to notice and Haechan seems to have barely processed anything, seemingly working on autopilot at this point. You catch Naeun by the waist, your other hand going to her arm and slinging it around your shoulder to ground her, inspecting the mess she made. Your expression is apologetic when you make eye contact with Haechan, but he merely purses his lips and gestures putting Naeun’s other arm around himself for more support.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ and heave her body outside of the dance floor and towards the booth Haneul had brought you to earlier. Placing her on the couch, she slumps down and immediately whines when her hand makes contact with her torso on the descent.

“I’m all sticky now…” Her eyes are barely open as she says this, as the bass of the music dwindles in the semi-confines of the booth.

“That makes the two of us,” As Haechan says this, your eyes glance over his figure to see his once white button-up is now tinted blue and sticking to his body, outlining the faintest of lines in the dark of the club. You advert your eyes, not wanting to be caught gawking at him like a man in the Victorian era.

“I’m so sorry, thank you for helping,” You bite your lip momentarily, feeling mortified for ruining his shirt. He merely waves you off, “Don’t worry. I’m not too fussed about it,” His hand is placed at his hip as he says this, but his free hand gestures at your intoxicated friend. “But she seems to be the most bothered out of all of us,”

As if on cue, Naeun whines from her slumped position on the couches, shifting left and right in an attempt to gain some leverage into standing up, only to slip back down. She calls for your name and then squints at Haechan as if trying to remember his.

“Naeun, let’s call it a night, yeah?” You try telling her and you look around to find her bag that she’s left. She protests like a child in a grocery store, huffing as she droops further onto the couch, her cheek now pressed against the cushions.

“No, not until I bag the class clown's hot friend.” Your eyes widen as you feel your cheeks grow hot, trying your best to not glance over at Haechan and somewhat blow Naeun’s cover. You reach over and pat her cheeks lightly in a warning.

“Naeun, you’re blabbering nonsense now. Come on, let’s get going.”

“I’m not! I’m talking about Jeno, not nonsense. Haechan’s super hot friend Jeno,” Your whole body does a reset as she says this, shoulders going stiff while Naeun is oblivious to everything. She opens her eyes and locks them on something behind you, now pointing her finger and smiling giddily.

“Oh! Look, Haechan is here! Hey, do you think if I ask reallyyy nicely he’ll—” Her next words are muffled by your hand and a forced laugh. You cast a look at Haechan to see him trying and failing to contain a smile, as his hand pushes at the corner of his mouth. Upon making eye contact with you he quickly looks away and tries to retain himself from laughing. You sigh as you think about the number of things you’d have to run down to sober Naeun tomorrow about drunk Naeun’s antics right now. Gathering both of your things and shrugging your jacket on your friend, you quickly grab a tissue paper from the table and the eyeliner pen from Naeun’s bag, scribbling down your phone number.

Once Haechan has regained his composure, he’s met with your hand extended towards him holding a napkin. He picks it up from your hand as you wave it a bit impatiently before you quickly go to shoulder your friend up.

“This is my number, send me your details and I’ll cover for your shirt and the drink,” You grunt as you adjust Naeun’s deadweight before she gets the memo and tries standing on her two feet. “Thank you again for helping, uh, please ignore everything she just said. I know it’ll be a good payback prank but—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Haechan’s chuckle resounds deep even in the loud bass of the club. “I wouldn’t pull anything on her for this.” He comes to Naeun’s opposite side, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder, heading towards the exit of the club without casting a glance back at you. You fumble with your belongings before quickly catching up, heels clicking as you ascend the stairs, your hands hovering around Naeun’s general direction, in fear that she’ll decide to fling herself off Haechan’s grip in an attempt of brushing her drunkenness off.

Outside of the club, cars whizz by the busy streets as people go for second and third rounds of drinks at this time of the night. Haechan lets Naeun sink into the ground as the latter pulls her weight, and you scramble towards her on the floor.

“Are you gonna hurl?” You ask. She hiccups.

“No,” And that’s all you needed to hear. Standing up, you fish out your phone and decide to call a cab back to your dorms, not wanting to carry your friend in the ten-minute walk back.

“Hey,” Haechan calls and you had momentarily forgotten that he was still here. You look up to see him scratching at his neck, mulling over his next words. “Uh, if you’d like, I didn’t drink anything and— I mean I was going to but then your friend just… What I’m saying is that I can drop you off?” The alcohol swimming in your brain may be playing with you, but you think you see a dust of pink settle into the boy’s cheek and neck.

“I mean, you’re Haneul’s friends, right? I remember you were her roommate at the dorms last year, so if you still live there I can drop you off,” He straightened his shoulder as he said this, now looking more confident about his offer.

You shift your weight, as you now actually get to take a good look at him. Under the club's dark and strobing lights, you could barely see his features far past his white button-up shirt and the light reflecting in his eyes. The street light illuminates the figure in front of you fully, allowing you to see the blue stain in his shirt, but also the tight fit of his jeans and the veins adorning his arms as he pushes up his sleeves at his elbows.

“Oh, thanks. But we should be okay. I’m sorry for the trouble.” You’re a bit flustered as you say this, your eyes flickering from his forearms to his face, not wanting to come off rude but also not being able to contain your monkey-sex brain from forming thoughts. You’re salivating over forearms.

“Okay…wait. Here,” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, typing in the phone number that you handed to him earlier in the night, calling you briefly. “Give me a text when you arrive home or if you need any help with warding off any weirdos.” You feel your stomach warm at his gesture, punching your name into his phone when he gives it to you. When you give it back to him, he mouths your name, before smiling at you.

“Will you be alright going alone?” He says as he helps you bring Naeun to a stand, the latter squeezing her eyes open and trying to regain balance and focus.

“Yup,” You pop, fixing your friend's bag on her shoulder. “She said she wasn’t gonna throw up, which means I have around twenty minutes until she changes her mind. She’s always the most self-aware pre-vom, so the walk back should be okay,” You don’t know why you’re reassuring him from getting kidnapped on your way back, but it feels nice to have someone care for your safety like this. Naeun starts marching away once you face her in the direction of your unit, and with a last wave goodbye, you turn your back to Haechan and the club.

[FRIDAY; 1:26 AM]

you: hii im home now

haechan: thats good

haechan: did she thrw up yet??

you: nah not yet

you: but we’re getting there you: t-minus three secs

haechan: remember to drink water b4 u sleep

you: okayy thank u for today :)

Telling Naeun how she almost embarrassed herself wasn’t as dreadful when she was fighting a hangover. She seemed to be more concerned about her water intake than almost causing a scene with Jeno at the club, complaining about the dryness of her skin.

“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without telling me to wash my make-up off,” She says this as she adds her expensive serum to her face, grabbing a guasha tool and pressing the cool instrument against her temples, completely disregarding its original use. You continue brushing your teeth next to her against the sink, unable to reply with the foam in your mouth.

“You passed out on the toilet after throwing up, I almost threw up myself trying to bring you to your bed,” You say as you spit out your toothpaste.

“Wait, then how did I not cause a scene?”

“Haechan stopped you,” You reply seamlessly, drying your hands on the hand towel, oblivious to the bewildered stare Naeun throws your way.

“Haechan? Like, Jeno’s friend Haechan? The guy who put red food dye in the campus’ water which made everyone's mouth red?” You remember the initial shock of walking by the water fountain the day he did this, the blood red of the water being a stark contrast to the gloomy winter weather last year.

“Yeah, you even spilled his drink on him and everything.” You giggle at the groan that she lets out, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna now plant a hidden alarm in my room like he did to this other guy in the dorm, or put plastic cockroaches in everything I own. I can’t believe I did that, was his shirt white?”

“Not after you spilt his neon blue drink,” You egg on even more. “But don’t worry, he said he won’t pull anything on you.” At that, her shoulders slump down in relief, as she leans against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m safe,” She cheers, heading to the kitchen like nothing had happened. But being the drama queen that she is, she quickly turns to look back at you with a sharp gasp. “But you aren’t!”

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. “What do you mean? Why would I not be safe?” You disregard her sceptics as you pass by her and into the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for something to eat.

“He said that he wouldn’t do anything to me, but he didn’t say anything about you.” For someone whos nursing a hangover, it’s alarming to see her raise her voice and move as swiftly as she does around you, trying to get you as panicked as she is about her made-up scenario. “He can glitter bomb your bag, or hack your laptop so that whenever you have an assignment it doesn’t go through until a few seconds after it's due, or—” You cut your friend off by stuffing cereal in her mouth, stopping her mid-rant.

“Why would he do that to me? You have to know he only did those to relevant or well-known people, like Somi or Sunghoon. He wouldn’t do some grand prank on someone like me.” You turn to pour your chosen cereal into a bowl. “And if you say anything else, just know I’m ignoring you.”

“But—”

“I’m ignoring you,”

“You can’t do this to m—”

“Ignoring youuuu,”

You don’t hear of or see Haechan until Wednesday, when you’re walking to your second class of the day from the library.

Adjusting your items in your bag, you wouldn’t have noticed his presence at all until he had cleared his throat and brushed his shoulder lightly against yours.

“Oh,” Your eyes widen by reflex, taken aback by his sudden approach before they soften again at the smile adorning his face. “Hi,”

“Hey, you heading to class?” He small talks, and maybe you should spend less time with your roommate, because what should be a simple interaction between you and one of your peers is putting you on edge. Even when you had ignored Naeun’s dramatics about you being dunked on by the boy before you, you can’t deny the jittery feeling coursing through your body, as if your body is gearing in to go into fight-or-flight mode.

Not wanting to come off rude, you hum an agreement and attempt to cast a friendly glance at him, which doesn’t last long as you see him looking back at you.

“Did you, uh, have fun?” You attempt at making small talk, but Haechan looks at you quizically at your lack of context. “At the club, that night. Sorry for interrupting your night and ruining your shirt.” You can’t help but circle back, feeling apologetic when you recall the massive blue stain you had left him in.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I hated that shirt anyway,” You gape at him as he says this, but quickly close your mouth shut and roll your eyes when you see the teasing glint flashing in his eyes. “And don’t worry about the prank thing too, I wouldn’t think about pranking a pretty girl like you,” You flush momentarily, but remember that you’re talking to ‘the biggest flirt on campus’. Haenul’s words, not yours.

“Good to know,” You egg him on, feeling your shoulders slump down as you grow more relaxed in his company. His jovial manner eases your thoughts of him coming after you, as his presence in front of you proves that he’s merely another student on your campus, trying to have fun and get by with crippling student debt.

Small talking a bit more as you head towards your tutorial, you revel in the drama he tells you that has occurred after you had left the club, remembering to list down the details to recall back to Naeun when you see her later. It’s when you’re at the door of your classroom when Haechan’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“I have a call to take, but I’ll see you around?” He looks at you with a friendly smile, and it takes everything in you not to melt right there. You can see why some of the girls in your year are fond of him.

Waving him goodbye, you wait until he turns a corner before you go towards your class. You’re just a few minutes late, which explains why you’re met with the nearly closed door of the classroom. Readily, you grip the handle and creak open the door, eyes ready to scan around the room for a vacant spot for you to sit at. But before you could comprehend much, you’re suddenly soaked cold.

Turns out, there was a bucket of water placed on the top of the door, which explains why there was a slight gap instead of the door being closed like it usually is when your tutorial begins. No one in the class had a clue of why the bucket was there or thought to dismantle the bucket, not wanting to mess with the inevitable of something occurring. The door you had entered from wasn’t a main door to the room either, but instead, a back door that barely anyone used, so they were all equally shocked when you had chosen to walk through the obscure entry. Oblivious to the minute signs, you walked right into the classroom and were immediately met with water and a few cubes of ice.

You convey all of this to Naeun when she sees you damper than normal at the campus cafe, where you two usually meet during your free periods; you’re usually dryer than this, so it wasn’t hard for her to realise. She laughs, because is she truly Naeun if she doesn’t laugh at your demise, but then she falls silent, brows now furrowed.

You look at her in question. “Why do you look like you’re a shiver away? I’m the one who’s soaked.”

“Oh my god, Haechan did this to you,” She completely ignores your words, making her point with theatre-level dramatics.

You wave your hand at her, disregarding her theory. “He couldn’t have. He was walking with me when I was headed to class.”

“Exactly!” She exclaims, the hot coffee sloshing around in her cup as she almost jumps out of her seat. You flinch at the handling of the hot drink. “He walked with you to distract you from the fact that he’s gonna pull something. He must’ve set it up before and came around to slow you down. I mean come on,” She slams her cup down on the saucer. “A phone call right when you reach your class? Isn’t that too obvious?” And you hate to admit it, but Naeun does have a point. The main topic of your conversation was about him not pulling anything on you, only for you to walk into his trap just a few minutes later.

“Oh my god,” You slouch against the booth seat of the cafe, the information slowly settling in. “But—”

“Why you?”

“Why that prank?”

Now it’s Naeun’s turn to look at you quizically. “What?”

You feel incredulous now, heat building up inside you. “A fucking bucket of water? That’s it? Is that all he could think of; he’s the same person who filled a whole lecture room with ping-pong balls and tied his roommate's bed to the door with rope. Why was my prank so low-effort?” Naeun now realises the anger budding within you, as she looks around the cafe when your voice raises slightly. She splays her hands out in front of you in a lieu to calm you down, but you’re too warped in your fury to acknowledge her attempts.

“Water? Water? With like, four cubes of ice, and that’s it. Is that all I’m worth? He couldn’t put a glitter bomb in every second purse of mine, or change my ex’s contact name to yours, or anything.” You down your drink quickly, feeling too worked up to be cooped in the booth of the cafe. Naeun follows after, quickly gathering her things and putting her laptop and pens in her bag. You would feel bad for cutting your study session short, but she was barely studying, so the guilt dwindles just a bit. The anger overpowers it by a margin.

“Hey, what are you— don’t go and do something stupid.” Naeun tries as she loops her arm with yours.

You sigh when she squeezes your bicep, feeling the heat inside you cool down just a bit. “I’m not gonna do anything. If anything, if I act like it affected me and lash out at him, it would be exactly what he wants.”

“So you’re gonna act like nothing happened?” You nod your head with hesitation.

“Well, something along the lines,”

It is no surprise that Haechan thrives on attention. That’s the sole reason why he continues with these pranks, and it doesn’t take a psychology major to figure this one out. You did think about pulling something back on him, maybe like pantsing him in the middle of campus or putting some hair removal cream in his shampoo so he thinks he’s slowly balding, but even with how embarrassing and risky they are —you don’t want to leave a huge impact on him, just ruffling his feathers a bit, you know he’ll revel in the attention regardless. So you go for the next best thing.

Ignoring him.

It was a good idea when you and Naeun were walking and passed by his group of friends, who exchanged some pleasantries with you, your friend barely holding it together at Jeno’s eye smile. You held eye contact and waved at Renjun and Jeno, but barely spared a glance towards Haechan’s direction, and when you finally did, you just gave him a blank stare.

You think it worked when you saw the corner of his lip slip down from the smile he was sporting, and you almost felt bad for acting so cold to someone who didn’t do anything. Then you remind yourself that he did, in fact, do something. You thought it would be enough to do this just a few more times when you see him in the next few months of the semester, and you barely see him so it shouldn’t be too hard. But it’s like fate has a personal vendetta against you, because ever since that fateful night, you see him everywhere.

You barely remember him coming into the campus library, let alone the quiet corner that you huddle yourself in to get your grind on. So it’s safe to say that you were shocked when you feel a tap on your shoulder only to look up and see Haechan looming over you, a shy smile sporting his face at the prospect of reaching out to you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand tugging at his earlobe as if shy. He looks at the seat opposite yours, as if wanting to sit there. You feel shame burn inside you when you don’t go to offer the seat, but you attempt to dwindle it when you remind yourself that you had to sit soaked throughout the entire class because participation is mandatory for your grades.

“How was your class the other day,” Your grip on your pen tightens as he says this, and you’re sure that the tilt in the corner of his mouth is to keep himself from laughing at you straight to your face. But you don’t give in, and instead nod your head with your eyebrows slightly raised, as if exasperated.

“It was okay,” You can only keep your replies short instead of ignoring him by keeping silent. His lingering form by your table and your avoidant gaze is already fueling the awkward air surrounding you, but you’re not giving in until he does.

And it seems like he’s not backing out anytime soon. “ Oh, I heard from Haneul that you’re planning on picking up cross-cultural management next session? I took that course last year so if you wanted some notes I can send them to you,” Fuck. How is he so good at this? His words make you think about your initial assumptions, and looking at his face, he does seem genuine about his offer, the tips of his ears now growing pink.

You soften a bit, ready to apologise to him for being overstrung, but then his gaze goes to something behind you, and now he covers his mouth with his palm as if stopping himself from bursting with laughter.

Confused, you turn around to see what was so hilarious for him to shift his demeanour so suddenly, only to be met with his friends, Jeno and Renjun, who go cartoonishly still at your attention. Of course, all of this is a running joke for him; sweetening up to you after the incident just so he can prove that no one can resist him.

Scoffing, you shut your laptop and gather your things, ignoring Haechan’s noise of surprise with your sudden movement, shoving everything in your bag and shouldering it. “I have to head out now, forgot that Naeun wanted to meet me before her class.” You make up an excuse as you look at your phone for the time. Naeun is taking a diligent afternoon nap at this very moment back in your dorm, completely oblivious to the trials you’re facing; but he doesn’t need to know your every move.

You almost slip out a ‘sorry’ as a reflex, but one glance back at the shocked faces of both Haechan and his subordinates brings you back, as you merely give him a tight smile before brushing past him.

“Oka— I’ll see you around!” Your shoulder bunches up at his volume as you hastily make your way out of his presence and the building.

Stepping into the radio broadcasting club room, you greet everyone present, apologising for being late.

“I got caught up on the way,” You take a seat at the table, putting your bag on the ground. Naeun, whos seated next to you, taps repeatedly at your bicep as a greeting, squealing away from you when you attempt to deliver a pinch to her skin.

“Did you get another bucket of water dunked on you?” Your senior Yubin comments, making everyone in the room laugh. You deliver a strained chuckle as Naeun casts a worried glance at you, but you wave her concern away

“Yubin’s just kidding, you’re not late either, we just sent Minseok to pick up the pizza boxes. Then after we’re done eating we can start brainstorming for the university mini carnival event.” Sohee softly informs, looking up from her clipboard to give you a kind smile.

“If anything, Jihoon’s the person we have to chastise. He texted saying he’ll be here in five minutes fifteen minutes ago.” Juyeon huffs at his phone screen.

As if on cue, the door opens and in comes Jihoon, but he isn’t alone.

“Sorry for coming in late, but look what I found along the way. Isn’t he so cute?” He coos at Haechan who stands beside him, looking at his friend incredulously, mockingly raising his hand. Ignoring Haechan’s disdain for his words, he pinches at his cheeks as he looks towards Yubin and Sohee. “Can we keep him? I always wanted a pet bear,”

Naeun leans in towards you. “He’s more of a cocaine bear than a pet.” You smack at her as she whispers this to you, reminding her of restraint. “You’re not the best at whispering, babe” You tease. “Keep your tone down if you also don’t wanna get dunked on.”

You feel your heart melt when you see look towards Haechan’s direction and see his cheeks turning pink. It seems like you’re not the only one when you hear a chorus of dreamy mutterings echo throughout the room. He swats at Jihoon’s hand before tilting his head lightly at the two leaders of the club. “I wanted to make sure this devil spawn doesn’t make a mess every step he takes. I’ll head out now,” He starts to wave at everyone in the room but sounds of disapproval travel around, and before he knows it Haechan is being dragged by Jihoon and Juyeon to take a seat at the table. In the midst of all the commotion, he looks up and catches your gaze, making you still in your seat, before he’s handled once more to sit down.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Yubin beams, and not for long Minseok comes in with a mountain of pizza boxes in his grip.

You see the tip of his ears turn red (something you now notice that you see a lot) as he thanks your seniors. “I’ll be out after I steal your food,” He grins, and it takes much more than your initial willpower to look away.

So far, you were willing to categorise seeing Haechan manifesting everywhere as chance; maybe some sick and twisted form of coincidence. Because before all of this, if you were to get a dollar for every time you had encountered him throughout your whole degree, you would have six, maybe seven dollars if you count that one Zoom call. You had your doubts in the beginning when you saw him at the library and then at your club meeting, that he was doing all of this on purpose; but every other time you would see him in the hallways and lecture halls, you can’t chalk it up to anything but pure coincidence. Haechan is a uni student doing uni-student activities.

It takes you some time to get that idea jammed into your head, and you’ve nearly convinced yourself until today. A relaxing wind-down with one glass of wine turned into you finishing a whole bottle, which amplified your cravings for something sweet. Meeting in the breakfast aisle in your local grocer shouldn’t be something shocking, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he, too, decided to purchase cereal at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“Nope,” You immediately put the two boxes of cereal you were choosing back on the shelf clumsily, looking around for the nearest exit in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait—”

“No, nope. Not at all,” You’re now putting back all the drunk midnight cravings you’ve picked up, shoving them back in their designated areas on the shelf haphazardly as you make your way back out of the place. Your drunk and sleep-deprived brain can’t handle the fact that you’re supposed to interact with Haechan here, out of all the socially acceptable exchanges. You hear a shuffle behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to look back around, focusing entirely on exiting the store without tripping over anything.

Outside, the cold of the night engulfs you as you try to find your bearings, but you’re stopped from lumbering your way back to your dorm by a hand grabbing your arm.

“Y/n, slow down—”

“Stop manifesting yourself into my life,” You groan as you weakly prod away his hand, but his soberness gives him an upper hand, as he merely grabs your hand and holds you by your wrists instead.

“Manifesting? I’m not— actually, that’s not even important. Is there anyone with you tonight?” You groan lightly, still trying to free yourself from his grip. “Naeun?” He prods.

You sigh when you realise he’s not giving up anytime soon. “Naeun is at home, waiting for the Oreo cereals I was gonna impulse buy. Or maybe she’s dreaming about them? I don’t know,” You mumble, hands now lax in his grip, head tilted down. When you don’t hear a reply, you look up and are met with Haechan fishing his phone out of his pocket before pressing the dial button.

“Hi Jen, I’ll meet you at the dorms, it’s…” He glances at your slumped figure, and you’re not sure if the heat in your cheeks is due to the drinks or his attention on you. “A long story. I won’t be long.” Pocketing his phone after ending the call, he lets go of your wrists in favour of clasping his hand into yours, fingers interlocking as he starts heading in the direction of your dorms.

“What are you…” The dark of the night doesn’t help you navigate your way back, so you’re slightly grateful that Haechan is guiding you the way he is.

“Our dorm buildings aren’t far from one another. I can’t let you go home alone in this state,” He answers your question before you could even voice it, looking at you with a soft gaze. He chuckles when you go to look away from him every time he looks at you, squeezing the grip he has on your hand.

The walk is silent for the most part, but Haechan’s brows are furrowed as he thinks about something. Just as you start seeing the entrance of your dorm building, Haechan starts. “Why are you ignoring me?”

The heat in your cheeks disperses momentarily as a cold wave washes over you. The heat comes back when your wide eyes meet his questioning gaze, and you can’t help but squirm in place from being put on the spot.

“That’s cheating,” You slur with a frown. “Ask me when I’m sober. Or when you’re also a bottle of wine in.”

“A whole bottle? Jesus,” He laughs lightly as you groan, tightening his hold on your hand when you try to run away. The pull of his grip catches you off guard, as you stumble forward and closer to his figure. “I hope you can keep a promise, pretty girl.” He teases. Before you can retaliate, he plops you at the entry of your dorm building, swiping the access card to the building poking out of your front pocket and on the reader, before removing his hand from yours and dropping the card back in your possession. You already miss the warmth of his touch, but by the time you look back up, you’re only met with his retreating back.

“Hey, you’re just in time. Did you know that if I did a handstand for almost two minutes straight I can get myself to feel— Why are you empty-handed?” Naeun’s slurs have toned down since you last saw her, but it’s still there. You sigh as you plop yourself face down onto the couch.

“Naeun?” Your voice comes out muffled from the couch cushions, but Naeun hears you regardless, grunting a reply as she shuffles from her position on the floor, probably to find a not-empty bottle of alcohol.

“You know that saying about seducing the things that scare you?” You move your head out from the cushion halfway through your question, wanting to breathe more than to wallow for once.

“Ohhh, I know what you’re talking about,” She hiccups only once. “The fearing what you attract.”

“Attracting your fears.”

“Tomato-tomato. What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think they were lying about it,” You had only possessed the fear of saying Haechan in the past few weeks, and now you only see him. If only you were that much fearful of money.

“Are you serious?” Naeun straightens her posture quickly. “I’m so scared of puppy play. Like, truly terrified. If someone handsome were to come up to me with a collar around their neck and a leash in their hand I would scream in fear,”

“Okay, I got it the first time.”

“I don’t think you understand, if they were all whiny about how they wanna be my pet and have me stroke the—”

“I get it!”

Although you had came to the epiphany that you’re attracting what you fear (you don’t know if the exaggerated gasp you let out when you walk by a bank or ATM helps, but it’s worth a try) you still can’t get yourself to not think of Haechan when you walk around campus.

But you don’t see him for the entire week after your last drunk interaction with him, and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or scared. So you choose to be both simultaneously, When you step into your corner of the library, your heart beats like you’ve run a marathon, only to be met with the usual vacantness it always was. You then go through your usual tasks until you have to a secondary location, and before you know it you’re nervous for simply wanting to walk to the bathroom.

“Am I going to constantly piss my pants every step I take on campus?” You complained over dinner with Naeun, as she constantly flips the meat on the grill to avoid burning it.

“If you keep thinking about him, then I think the answer is obvious.” She puts one slice on your plate before continuing. “But also maybe take this as a sign? He’s not popping up randomly anymore, which means that your life is like it was before.” Your reflex is to fight back for no other reason than to counteract your friend, but you cut yourself short when you realise she has a point. Ever since that fateful night, your life is now like it was before you had briefly acquainted with the man.

And so you’re not scared anymore. You even forget to double-check your surroundings to see if he’s anywhere in sight. Your life is as peaceful as a student's life can be. Of course, until it isn’t.

The university’s yearly fundraising festival had come around again, and the broadcasting club had decided to run a barbeque booth to raise their supply funds. You were assigned to take orders, while Juyeon and Yubin tended to the skewers. The heat of the booth mingles with the cool wind of the summer night, as you fan yourself with your hand, handling the money given to you as someone makes a new order.

“One order of chicken skewer please,” You raise your voice enough for Juyeon and Yubin to hear over the sizzling noise of the grill, as you find the exact change to give back to the girl ordering. As the next customer shuffles up, you’re too busy writing down the order on a slip of paper to spare them a glance (which, if this was a running business, would not be counted as good customer service).

“Welcome! Would you like to order our rice cake skewer? We have a special combo of two for the price of one,”

“How much is it for a few minutes of your company?” You feel your blood run cold upon hearing his voice. Looking up, you’re met with Haechan’s gaze your eyes locking in an unexpected encounter. Adorning a smile on his face, he looks past you and greets your club members before you can think of what to say.

“Hi Channie, how are you?” Yubin asks as she put a chicken skewer in a cup. Juyeon comes up next to you as he reaches out to pinch Haechan’s cheeks. “Hey there cutie, do you wanna do us a favour and buy everything from our booth?” He flutters his eyelashes just for good measure.

Haechan chuckles as he smacks his friend's hand away. “I’m the wrong person, only Chenle has enough money to do that. But can you do me a favour and let me steal your beloved club member?” You don’t realise that he’s talking about you, until you see his hand gesturing towards your figure as he looks at you. You’re about to protest, your brain already conjuring something up about how you have the heavy duty of being the booth’s designated accountant for the night, but Yubin is always a step ahead.

“Go ahead! Her turn was gonna end soon anyway, Sohee is gonna arrive in a few minutes with more of our supply,” She beams at you as she waves you two off. Before you can say anymore, Juyeon is shoving you out of the way, and you have no other choice but to trudge after him.

You walk side by side in silence, as the noise of the multiple booths being run by different clubs and societies encapsulate you two. You try your best to look at everything but him, even when you feel him stealing glances at your figure.

The silence doesn’t last long, though, as Haechan speaks up after looking around at the booths set up. “It’s quite stuffy with all these booths and people,” Not knowing what to say, you merely glance at him as you nod along. He purses his lips, before trying again.

“You must be feeling pretty warm, running the grill and managing everything at the booth. Jihoon used to complain all the time about how hot it got when he was in charge of these things." It's true you've been avoiding the grill area, so you’re not necessarily overheating, but does he deserve to know?

You hear him lightly huff when you just give a shrug and an ambiguous sound, but he doesn’t back down. “Do you want me to get you something to help you cool? Maybe ice cream or a can of coke.” You're on the verge of giving your umpteenth non-verbal response of the evening, but when you look at the boy walking next to you, you’re met with a glare and a quick snarl of his lips. Faced with his insistence, you decide to speak up.

“I’m okay,” You thought this would appease him, but it seems like anything you could’ve done would eventually send him over the edge. You feel his hand clasp onto your wrist before you’re being dragged away from the congested corridor of booths and into a secluded corner of the campus grounds. Even in the shade of the tree, the little light that slips through the lampost nearby highlights the frustration on Haechan’s face, both arrogance and apprehension flood your senses as you realize that his frustration might be a result of something you've done.

His voice is calm when he speaks, “Okay, did I do something to offend you?” He briefly closes his eyes and mentally counts a few numbers before opening them and looking back at you again, this time with a calmer yet stern expression. But rather than soothing your irritation, this seems to send you over the edge.

“I don’t know, did you?” You know you’re being childish, but that’s the point. You’re not planning on giving in until he apologises. By the look of confusion he’s sporting on his face, it doesn’t seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon.

Admittedly, he does look cute when confused, as his front teeth poke ever so slightly from his slightly gaped mouth, as if he’s about to say something but blanked at the last second. “I did do something?” At your scoff, he gathers himself. “Look, if I did do anything, I didn’t have any bad intentions. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything.” But this explanation only sends you over the edge.

Your hands drop from where you had crossed them in front of your chest, as you give Haechan an incredulous look. “No bad intentions? You didn’t want to hurt me? Are you serious? The fact that you even did it is terrible, but such a useless, no-brainer prank?” You’re too angry to notice Haechan’s shift of expression, as his scared grimace falls into another confused furrow of his brows.

“Like, a fucking bucket of water? Even a toddler can pull that. Couldn’t you have done something harder, more creative? Something with more effort, like, I don’t know, expired slime or a skateboard at the door. And I feel even more stupid because I believed you when you said you wouldn’t prank me, I even defended you when Naeun was going off about how I’d be your next target, and I turned out to be a fool, fuck. And for what? A lame bucket of water? Am I only worth that much?” You pause to catch a breather, hand splayed at your waist as you point the other accusingly at Haechan. He widens his eyes slightly, but then a smile falls on his face, and you’re sent spiralling.

“Are you smiling right now?” And at that, he starts laughing. Oh my god, you think, he’s a sociopath.

But Haechan starts laughing even harder, his body falling forward as he leans towards you, clutching your extended finger with his thumb and forefinger, shaking it around before folding over with laughter once more. You’re so, so confused, and now a bit scared that Haechan’s gonna keel over and fall from how hard he��s laughing.

But you don’t need to do such a thing, as he sobers up pretty quickly, straightening himself up and walking closer to you, while his hand now lightly holds your palm in his. You feel heat course through you, from the comfort of his hands holding yours and the sweet laughter that now rings in your head. You feel embarrassed that you bursted like that when you were so determined to make him fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness. Instead, you’re left blushing like a schoolgirl who confessed with a heartfelt letter.

“Okay, okay. Wait, don’t go sullen now.” You look away, your cheeks growing hotter at being so easily read. Haechan grips onto your hand that was lightly resting on his palm, grabbing your attention.

“I swear on Renjun that I didn’t pull that prank on you. I didn’t even know that happened to you.” Your first instinct is to not believe him, but he’s looking earnestly into your eyes, and the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours makes you melt.

“I don’t know how I can prove it you that it wasn’t me, But I told you I wouldn’t do it and I always stick by my promises. I can maybe help you find who did it?” He offers this while smoothly clasping your hands together, fingers now lacing in yours. The intimate gesture sends a wave of flustered warmth through you, and his chuckle in response only confirms that your emotions are evident.

“Wah,” He sighs bumping his shoulder into yours, “What a relief, I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.”

“Wait, you—” You’re interrupted as Haechan starts striding forward and back into the busy atmosphere of the campus. “Haechan, slow down.” Your voice gets lost in the throng of the crowd, the bustle of people and echoes of activities happening making it hard for your plea to reach his ears. That, or he's simply ignoring you.

In a blink, you're situated back at your booth, the savoury scent of skewed chicken and rice cake wafting through your nose. Haechan releases your hand, and you both face Sohee, who's manning the cashier with a somewhat indifferent expression. “Hi, I just wanna return her,” Haechan says casually, his gaze shifting between you and Sohee.

Sohee regards the two of you with a blank stare, her expression unreadable. Haechan pats your shoulders twice before he waves the two of you goodbye. Sohee goes back to organising the money gained from tonight’s business, not sparing you another glance. “We have a no return and refund policy, especially with damaged goods.”

“Hey!”

You’re not surprised when you see Naeun in the lecture hall, but you are slightly taken aback when you see her situated just a few seats behind Renjun and Jeno. When you rock up next to her, you let your eyes do the talking as you glance back and forth between her and Jeno’s back, with the latter all the more oblivious to what’s happening.

She smacks at your leg before grabbing you and pulling to sit you down. “Shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything?”

“Your empty brain echoes really badly when you conjure even a single thought,” You’re too shocked to retort back (how did she think of that so quickly?), so you simply go to unpack your bag. When you sit back from organising your items, your eyes fall on the door of the lecture room, and you’re surprised to see Haechan stride in. Even in the middle of summer, he has a leather jacket swinging from his fingers at his shoulder, sporting a white graphic t-shirt tucked into his black jeans. You’re about to say something to Naeun, maybe have her indulge in your admiration for a bit, only to be met with the same look you’re sporting but just aimed at the back of Jeno’s head.

When Jeno turns his head to greet his friend, Naeun quickly whips her head away, clearing her throat. You poked at her sides teasingly, as she squirms and smacks your hand away.

“I thought you were gonna ‘act chill’ around him?” Naeun huffs at your words.

“I am acting chill, I’m basically freezing.” You raise your brows at her. “There’s nothing chill about staring at the back of hi—”

Naeun smacks at your mouth when Renjun turns his face sideways, but the loud smack of skin garners more attention, as all three of them look back at you. As the other two merely glance briefly before going back, Haechan’s eyes stray longer while the corner of his mouth quirks up. You offer a simple wave and he flashes a smile before turning back around.

Naeun sighs as she releases her hand from your face, but quickly corners you with a glare. “What was that? Why was he smiling at you like that?” You’re grateful that she’s been practising her inner voice, as you know that Naeun from two weeks ago would have had the whole lecture hall aware of her words with how loud she whispers.

“Long story short, he didn’t do it, and I think …” You’re not sure if you should tell Naeun about the possible confession that occurred. Not because you don’t trust your friend but because you’re not even sure if that could be counted as a confession.

“How are you so sure? Maybe he said it to get on your good side,” Naeun stares daggers at the back of Haechan’s head, but her gaze quickly softens when Jeno plays with his hair.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “He said he didn’t do it, and I trust him.” Naeun surveys your expression for a bit with a glare, before nodding her head in acceptance.

“Alright, I trust your trust in him. But if he ever pulls anything…” You pinch your friend's cheek in gratitude. “I know, you’ll have my back.”

“Speaking of back, did you see Jeno’s when he stretched? It’s okay if you haven’t he’ll do it again when we're a third through the lecture.” You slowly pat her shoulders, speechless once more as you sigh and try to tune her out for the rest of the lecture.

read part two here !!

#nct dream fluff #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct dream smut #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #7dreamnet

2K notes · View notes

kimarii-00 · 5 months ago

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Regrets and Punishments (2)

❥Summary: Armando knows he made a mistake. He knew when he decided that his mother was more important than his girlfriend. But he planned to return to her, he really did. He never could’ve anticipated being gone for as long as he was. Seeing her face again was like getting shot: You get that adrenaline rush, yet the pain ends up biting you in the ass later on. Especially when he discovers what, or dare I say, who he also left behind all that time ago.

❥Warnings: Slow burn, kidnapping, language, guns/shooting, blood, violence, suggestive scenes (?), eventual happy ending

❥Word Count: 4.8k (2k words more than the last one ;))

❥Part 2/2

PART 1

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AN: I did not expect all the support for the first part, thank you guys!! I hope this last part was worth all the hype! Enjoy!!

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“(Name),” Kelly begins, “I’m so sorry I–”

“What the hell do they even want with her? She’s a fucking child. Four! Four fucking years old,” As angry as you were right now, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, “I can’t… What if they hurt my baby?”

“They’re probably going to use her as some sort of backup in case their plan with Mike’s wife goes south…”

In all honesty, you think you had a hunch on why they took Demi. Because he’s her father… They must’ve done their research…

You’re surprised Armando hasn’t pressed you more by now about Demi. He must’ve had questions because last time he checked, you didn’t have a kid, so from his perspective, in the years he was gone you either must’ve hooked up with some guy and had his kid, or the passionate night you two shared before he left must’ve really paid off…

“(Name) I swear, we’re not going to let anything happen to Demi,” Kelly said in an attempt to sooth your motherly insticts. You felt nausious but you appreciated that you weren’t in this alone. Kelly had always been there for you, especially when the father of your child left and you found out you were pregnant with his kid a week later. She was there for you when nobody was. She had helped you through depressive episodes so you wouldn’t stress yourself and end up hurting the baby, she was there for you when you went into labor and had to be rushed to the hospital. She was there when the loud cries filled the room when the doctors popped Demi out of you.

Thinking of this only made you angrier, because it was wrong that you had to rely so much on your best friend instead of the man that was supposed to be Demi’s father, and now, because of his involvements with these people, your daughter has been taken. She has nothing to do with this.

You wipe your face, trying to get the tears to stop falling but they just wouldn’t. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Armando looking at you with an expression that you can’t read but when he notices that you’ve seen his antics, he averts his attention elsewhere. You can’t help but think that he wants to say something to you, but you can’t bring yourself to care in this moment.

As much as you’d like to deny it, deep down you still have feelings for that man. But there are many reasons as to why you can’t just happily jump back into his arms and ask him to take you back.

Right now, you have more than yourself to worry about. You have Demi, and if you were going to get with a man, she deserves to have someone that will care and love her and right now, you aren’t sure that man could be Armando.

You aren’t paying much attention to the group as they talk about a plan to get the hostages back, you aren’t in your right mind and it seems everybody notices that. All you can think about is your little girl.

Mike looks at his son, and even though they don’t have the deepest relationship, he can tell that the boy is worried for you. He still isn’t entirely sure what you and him are to each other, but he can definitely tell that seeing you as broken as you are now is breaking something in Armando himself. He makes his way to Armando’s side and slightly nudges his side to get his attention.

“Go talk to her,” he says, gesturing to the grieving woman, “You two clearly have things to discuss, you better get it out of the way before we start making moves.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” Armando grumbles, his eyes wandering to your person for what felt like the hundreth time in the last ten minutes.

“You never know until you try–”

“I did try, she told me to get the hell away from her.”

“Listen man, I don’t know what your relationship is with her, but what I do know is that if you don’t talk to her now, you might not get another chance to.”

Armando takes in his fathers words, contemplating his options and realizing that he really only has two: Not talk to you and then potentially die before he gets the chance to, or two, talk to you know and list the weight thats been on his chest ever since he saw you walk through that front door.

He decides that he would probably come to regret picking the latter, but his feet are gliding him toward where you sat with Kelly before he could find some excuse as to why he should wait until later to have this inevitable conversation.

You don’t seem to notice him until he’s standing before you, yet you don’t lift your head. Kelly does, however, and gives him a certain look that read, “If you hurt her more than she’s already hurting, I swear I’ll kill you”. He nodded to her, and she hesitantly nodded back. She rubbed your back in a comforting way one last time before standing up and walking toward the rest of the group. Armando took her place next to you.

He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you. It’s a mix of awkward and comfortable silence between you two before you break it by suddenly speaking up.

“She’s yours,” You say without warning. You decided that you’d rip the band-aid off and quell any thoughts about you hooking up with some other guy that he might’ve had, “Her name is Demi. She’s four… She’s yours.”

“...I had a feeling,” He starts, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything and wait for him to expand. You wait for his to say anything to help you understand why he left you. Why he abandoned you and your unborn child. But he says nothing.

You sigh, “Why’d you do it?” You sounded tired. You didn’t want to argue. You just wanted him to help you understand his decision all those years ago.

“I got caught up in some shit. Fucked with the wrong people.”

“Yeah no shit,” You spit out.

Silence overtakes you both once again.

“You didn’t even leave a text,” You say quietly, “Y’know I waited for you. I waited, and waited, and waited, and then waited some more, yet you never came home. Never.”

Up until this point your head had been in your hands, trying to soothe your pounding headache, but now your gaze laid on his face, making direct eye contact. You let him see your stinging red eyes from all the crying you’ve been doing.

“I didn’t want to involve you in my shit. I didn’t want you to end up hurt because of me–” He begins, but you don’t take any of that bullshit.

“Yeah? Well I’m involved now, and guess who’s paying the fucking price? My– our child.”

This shuts him up. He doesn’t have anything to say to that, other than, “I’m sorry.”

You scoff. Is that all he can offer you? After all he’s put you through?

“Was it even real?” You ask on a whim.

“What?” He questions.

“Us. Was it real? Since you found it so easy to just up and leave some random day?”

“You think that shit was easy?” He snaps, “I loved you– I love you so much, so how the hell could you say that me leaving you was fuckin’ easy?”

You flinched at the correction from loved to love, “You sure as hell made it seem that way.”

He startled you by grabbing your shoulders tightly. He turned you so you looked at him fully, eye contact as intense as ever.

“I had to damn near fight myself to not turn back and run into your arms again after I left you. I thought about you every fuckin’ day that I wasn’t around you. If I could go back, I swear I would’ve told my mother to fuck off if it meant that I could stay with you… with our child. But at the time I was a fucking idiot and I thought–” He had to stop his rambling for a moment to take a breath. You stared at him with wide eyes, he was never one to go on tangents like this, and you made no effort to stop him. “I thought that leaving was the best decision for you, for us, at the time and I planned on coming back. I really did. But everytime I even thought it was okay to return more shit kept happening and I just– I didn’t want you involved.”

You let him trail on with his words as you found comfort in his somewhat desperate hold in your shoulders.

“I never meant to hurt you the way I did.” Armando concluded.

You avert your eyes down slightly, breaking the eye contact but he puts his finger under your chin to lift it back up. He doesn’t want you avoiding this conversation.

He isn’t sure what possessed him to lean down, shortening the distance between the two of you until there was nothing but a pocket of air seperating his lips from yours, but as he’s about to take the final step, you pull away slowly.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” You begin, unsure of what excuse your about to pull, “I can’t.” You say, deciding not to beat around the bush.

He nods in understanding, yet you immediately recognize the hurt in his eyes.

You pull away from his hands on your shoulders and he makes no move to stop you. You take a deep breath in, like you want to say something else before you part ways, but ultimately decide against it.

You say nothing as you walk back to the group, leaving him standing motionless behind you.

“As far as they know, Lockwood is on his way with a plane to move the hostages to Cuba,” Mike spoke, going over the plan once more. Today was the day you took action to rescue the people that were kidnapped. Mike’s wife, the girl that was with her at the time– Callie, and…Demi. God… I swear if they did something to her… “The second they get close to the plane with the hostages, it’s quick kills. Neutralize all threats. These motherfuckers killed a lot of good cops. They have my wife, they have Callie, and they have (Name)’s daughter.” You lowered your eyes at the aknowledgement.

“They attacked our families. We not losing today.” He concludes, and everyone nods their head.

You were partnered with the tech team in the van, watching the situation from drone footage. You wanted to be on the front lines to get rid of every fucker who thought taking your daughter was a good idea, but you were stuck inside of the van until extra help was needed.

You hear the helicopter pilot through your comms device in your ear, “I got one looking out the front door, right side, I got one sniper on the roof of building two.”

“T those up,” Rita says, who ended up joining the cause after realizing the man she was dating was with the enemy. You quickly code in a few commands for the drone to follow and before long you have eyes on the two mentioned. “Everybody keep moving. What are those?”

She points to the objects presented in the live map of the area, and you answer, “Gaters.”

“I thought it was an abandoned theater park?”

“Abandoned by humans,” Kelly jumps in while loading her gun.

You manage to find the parks webpage from when it was open and discover that the main attraction was an albano aligator named “Duke”. It was sixteen feet long, and there are stories about him still being there to this day.

“Well fuck that…” You mutter.

You watch from the drone as the main team lands in the water as planned, getting into position.

“Armando’s at his QTH,” Dorn confirms, letting everyone know that he’s in position. You swallow the lump in your throat.

Lockwood steps out of the helicopter and walks on the dock, waiting for them to bring out the hostages. You hold your breath and watch closely.

“Hostages are coming out now,” Dorn says. Your eyes dart across the screen, looking for your daughter in particular before spotting her in the arms of a muscular man. They walked behind the other two that were kidnapped and you can barely contain yourself when you take in the terrified look on your four year olds’ face.

“Fuck…” You choke out under your breath. Kelly hears this and rubs circles into your back for comfort. You put your hands over your mouth in a prayer like position and keep watching through the drones.

“Everybody stay calm,” Rita says.

The plan was for Mike to take out their leader as soon as he had the chance to, which was why he was on the front lines, yet when you notice no movement from his end, you begin to become worried that something has gone wrong.

“Mike?” Rita blurts, “Mike do you have the shot?”

“Negative, I do not have a shot, I do not have a shot,” he says into the comms device. Your eyebrows furrow as you look from a perspective of a drone that flew near where the helicopter had landed, and you conclude that from where Mike was posted, he should’ve had a clear shot.

A moment goes by and the kidnappers walk with the hostages, but just a little ways before they reach Lockwood, they stop on the bridge.

“They stopped, why’d they stop?” Dorn hurridly says. The drone is able to catch the sight of something slowly moving through the water and you conclude that it’s what they are looking at as well, you watch as their leader follows whatever is moving and your heart sinks when you realize what the thing in the water is moving towards.

“Armando–” You start, but he seems to have noticed it as well.

“Shit.” He says.

One man signals for the soldiers around him to start a search, suddenly becoming suspicious of where the thing in the water was going, and who it may be targeting. “Armando they’re closing in on you.” Dorn states.

“Do they see him?” Rita asks.

“I don’t know.”

Rita takes the time that they are distracted to pressure Mike, surely he has a shot now, right? “Mike, now! Your chance is now, they can see him, they know we’re here!”

“I don’t have it, negative, negative.”

“You’ve got to take the fucking shot,” Armando mumbles out, keeping his eye on the thing slowly advancing toward him in the water, and the person that was getting dangerously close to his hiding spot above.

You watch as all hell breaks loose when Armando shoots the man who semed to have spotted him, and he falls into the water only to be finished off by the thing in the water, now identified to be the ledgendary sixteen foot long gator. You don’t think you’ve ever been as scared as you had been the moment you realize they know they’ve been set up, and they start taking the hostages back into the building. Your daughter begins to cry and it breaks your heart.

“Engage!” Rita shouts through the comms, “Kelly, get us there.”

You leave your chair and move to the front of the van along with Kelly as she steps on the gas. You take the time to reload your own gun, and slip a knife in your boot for emergencies.

By the time the four of you have arrived, the fight has moved inside. Rita orders you three to go inside and she states that she’ll go after Lockwood and you don’t have to be told twice before you’re rushing in there. You hear Kelly shouting your name behind you, trying to get you to slow down as you leave them in the dust, but all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, desperate to find your daughter. You arrive just in time to see the man who was holding onto your daughter walk up a flight of stairs and you waste no time following after, shooting whoever was in your way.

The path splits into three once you reach the top and you pick a random path, slowly walking into the room.

You make sure the room is clear, making sure there is no one in it before you turn around, only to be smacked in the face with the butt of a gun. You stumble and fall, and make eye contact with the man who took you by surprise. You see him aiming at you, but with no intention to die before you find your daughter, you regain your balance and sweep his leg and quickly make your way on top of him. You snatch the knife out of your boot and put it to his neck, “Where is the child?” You hiss out, “I swear I’ll fucking kill you, where is she?” You barked when he took too long to answer for your liking.

“I don’t know what your talking about–” You decide you don’t have time for this bullshit, and jab him in the stomach with the knife. He lets out a cry of pain and he finds the cool metal of the knife back on the skin of his neck with a noticable change of pressure this time around. He was sure it would cut into the skin at any moment, “Okay, okay! Last I heard she was on the top floor.”

“Fuck,” You say, realizing that there were more floors than you realized. You don’t say another word before puncturing the side of his neck, quickly ending him. You get up, ready to leave the room but you’re grabbed from behind and choked. You grip the arm that wraps around your neck and stab your already bloodied knife into it, releasing yourself from the headlock. Even though the man who’d attacked you had been stabbed he was relentless. He ran at you again, landing a punch into your stomach and you got a few hits in yourself. You smash his head against a wall which either kills or knocks him out, and you can’t bring yourself to care as you see more men rush into the room.

You dance around them, getting in hits and taking some as well and you whip out your gun. You wanted to preserve bullets but you were getting overwhelemed by the amount of people that were flowing into the room. You shoot a few with amazing accuracy.

You hear a grunt behind you and before you can turn around, you are hit in the head with the butt of another gun again. You groan, the pain of your injuries starting to show through the adrenaline and the man behind you grabs you by your hair and pulls you up before wraping his own arm around your neck. You close one eye in pain and watch as one man walks to you, aiming his gun.

Before he can shoot, there is another shot that interrupts their plan and it ends up hitting the man behind you. Now free from his hold, you make use of the distraction and kick the man in front of you in the gut, causing him to double over. You knee him in the face and snatch his gun, shooting him in the face.

You look at your savior, and your eyes widen as you realize who it was. Armando…

“You good?” He asks. You nod, and he joins you at your side to finish off the remaining of the enemy, but before any of you can make a move, a helicopter comes smashing through the window, instantly killing two of the guys. You’re right in the path of the helicopter, and you see out of the corner of your eye Armando running towards you. He grabs onto you and you both fly out of the way. He manuvers both of your bodies until he’s the one to take most of the impact once you land.

Once all the chaos settles, you both stand up. You look at him, his hands still embracing you protectively, “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and continue to stare into his eyes. Those eyes you’ve known for so long. You don’t know what could’ve possessed you to do this, but you feel as if it’s the only thing you could do in the moment. With haste, you push your lips against his.

You can feel his surprise in your sudden action. You bring your hands up and grip his vest for stability and you feel the moment where he begins to reciprocate. Your mouths move together in a practiced motion and you wonder how he’s still such a good kisser after all these years.

The kiss quickly becomes heated, hurried. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you let him, moving the muscles together, competing for dominance. You groan into his mouth.

He then begins to walk forward, and you walk backwards slowly until your back makes contact with the wall behind you and he cages you in, his lips never leaving yours. Tongue never unlocking with your own. One hand is connected to the wall and the other to your hip as he brings you impossibly closer. You bask in the moment.

You break the kiss first, needing air, and his lips search for yours again instantly when you do. Your mind begins to cloud, but you remember why you’re here in the first place. You need to find your daughter. Even knowing this, you find it hard to pull away from the sensation that is his lips against your own, but somehow you find it in you to put your hands on his chest and gently push him away. He looks down at you in question.

“Can…can we continue… after I find my daughter?” You breathe heavily, still breathless from the passionate moment you shared.

“Yeah… okay. I’m coming with you.” Your eyes shot up at him at the statement. You nod at him and he hesitantly releases you from his hold. Desperate to rid yourself of the tension left in your lower area due to the kiss, you walk away, recalling what the man said about another floor.

Armando follows closely behind you.

You eventually find the staircase that would lead you to the top floor, and of course, awaiting you were more of the enemy. With Armando by your side, you make quick work of them and once all that were left were bodies, you begin to search the room. It was the only room on the top floor, so unless that guy was lying to you, Demi must be here.

So where the hell is she?

There is no sign of her being here. You check behind boxes, inside cabinets, everywhere. Your breathing quickly grows rapid as you realize that your daughter is nowhere in sight. If she’s not here, then where the hell could she be? The rest of your team was in the lower areas on the building, and if one of them found her, surely they would’ve announced it over the comms, right? So where the hell is your daughter?

You feel a hand on your back, “Hey, hey, you’re fine. We’ll find her, okay?” Armando says.

You realize you can’t waste time, so you nod and recollect yourself. But that doesn’t change the fact that you have no clue where she could be if not here.

“Look,” Armando states once your breathing had slowed, he points to the left where there seemed to be a door to a balcony of sorts.

You take a deep breath and follow him, as he already started making his way toward it.

He kicks open the door, gun aimed at the figure that stood at the edge of the balcony and your heart dropped. In front of you stood your little girl, and a man that took his place on the ledge of what had to be a long ass drop. You feared the worst and your gun shoot in your hands.

“Put the guns down!” The man demanded, “Right now or I promise you I’ll jump, and take her ass with me!” He says. He emphasizes his words by gripping your daughter tighter and holding his gun to her head, then back at the two of you.

Your daughter is bawling her eyes out. You aren’t even sure if he noticed that you were there for her. She was scared out of your mind. “Demi–”

“Shut up, and put your fucking guns down!” The man demanded. You listen this time, which prompted Armando to do the same. You cursed to yourself, realizing what little power you have in this situation. “I want you two to slowly walk back out that door.”

“We can’t do that,” Armando states, his hands rising in the air after he dropped his gun to show he’s not a threat.

“Fucking do it!” The man boasted. You aren’t sure what your options are, if there were any. You look to Armando, and he seems to sense your eyes on the back of his head.

He then looks at you a certain way, and mouths to you, “Trust me.”

Your eyes widen and you let out a yelp in surprise when Armando takes off running toward the man and your daughter. This takes the man by surprise too, before he makes no effort to pull the trigger and only seems to panick at the incoming threat. He doesn’t get a chance to retaliate before Armando uses his shoulder and back to swiftly steal your daughter from the mans grip, all the while using force to push him off of the balcony.

You watch as Armando sinks to his knees with your daughter, gently combing her hair with his fingers and whispering in her ear words of comfort. She grips onto him tightly and cries into his police vest. It takes you a moment to realize that she is safe. Something about Armando holding your daughter in his arms and caring for her makes you realize and think about some things that you haven’t thought to think about before, but you put that all of the back burner in favor of finally holding Demi in your arms again.

“Baby…” You whisper, almost in disbelief that she really is safe and sound. Demi registers your voice in her little head and whips it around to face you.

“Mama!!” She cries, she leaves Armando’s hold and you drop to your knees to give her the biggest, tightest hug you can. You sniffle and pull her head into your neck.

“Are you okay Mimi? Let me look at you…” You say, pulling away from her to check her from any kind of injury. She shakes her head, you take in the sight of her red eyes from all the crying she’s been doing.

“Mama is hurt…” She mumbles. You move your hand to the various areas that Demi points at and notice that you are indeed hurt in many areas, but you don’t care. Not right now.

“I am… But it’s okay, mama’s strong, just like you baby. God, I love you so much,” You say, planting a long, wet kiss on her forehead and hug her again tightly.

“I love you too, mama,” Demi says into your neck. You look at Armando as you hug Demi, and you mouth a quick “Thank you.” He nods to you, watching the interaction.

The moment is interrupted by Mike on the comms, “Armando, come in Armando.”

“What’s up?” Armando replies.

“You need to get out of here, Judy’s here and is looking for you. Take the boat and get the hell out of here.”

Armando hesitates, looking at you and your daughter… his daughter. Whatever he’s contemplating seems like he’s making a hard decision in his mind, but luckily for him, you’ve already made up yours.

“We’ll come with you.” You state.

“What? No–”

“It wasn’t a question.”

Silence overtakes you, but you don’t let it linger for too long, “Don’t push us away again.”

This looks to have convinced him, as he takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay.”

You don’t know how the future will go for you three. You dread the predestined talk with your daughter that you’re going to have to have with her to tell her that this man is really her father, but all you know is that as your walking through that building, your daughter being carried by him and her hooked onto her neck for safety and comfort, you feel as if you have good things coming.

And so you let yourself crack a genuine smile, one that you felt hasn’t shown itself since the night that he left you.

And he reciprocates the same one. One you haven’t seen in years, and one you’re sure to see in many more to come.

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#armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #armando aretas x you #bad boys #bad boys ride or die #kimarii-00

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