#i just realised today. so yeah i was doing it REALLY subconsciously | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amyispxnk · 6 months ago

Text

Grease and sweat

Summary - Another day, another venture out of the walls of the Boston QZ with Joel Miller. AKA, another day spent fantasizing about the burly man whom you spend most of your time with these days. When the two of you have to hole up for the night, things get a little heated, and you finally snap.

A/N: i started this oneshot like 6 months ago and finally found some random motivation today to finish it. and im not gonna spoil anything but like.. why has noone talked about this in a fic before? im literally salivating when he does this during the game and like.. yeah. idk. you’ll see.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!! (oral f!receiving, unprotected PiV sex - don’t do this, especially during an apocalypse!, mentions of masturbation, lewd thoughts), language, age gap (roughly 15 years), firearms, pet names, fluff, aftercare

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at, kid?” Joel practically spat, having noticed the way you were eyeing him whilst he worked.

You scoffed, walking up to the workbench he was currently using. Kid. You weren’t a kid. Sure, you were almost 15 years younger than him, but you certainly weren’t a kid.

“I’m 34, Joel. Not a kid.” You argued, leaning on the wall and watching him work.

He just grunted in response before resuming what he was doing before, starting with cleaning his pistol.

His fingers danced along the metal, digging into certain bits with the old rag he used to get any grime out, before he used the screwdriver to make a few adjustments to the handgun.

You never really understood how to do all the fancy things he did with his weapons, and you probably should considering how intently you watched him whenever the pair of you came across one of these old benches - but you couldn’t focus on the guns which were in his hands. His big, strong, rough hands. You’d trade places with those guns just to feel his hands on you like that. He took so much care of the damn things too, like they were the most precious things in his life. Always cleaning and repairing them like this, practically never letting you touch them.. What did those guns have that you didn’t? You thought to yourself as you watched him, gaze drifting to his fingers in particular. The ones you’d dreamt about far too many times, the ones you’d imagined inside of yourself rather than your own when you touched yourself. It was the way they moved, how thick they were, and how the veins in his hands and muscles flexed when he gripped his bow, and the way his arms would shine with his sweat as he worked. You’d lick the sweat off his body if he asked you to. Depraved as it sounds.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Your absolutely maddening desire for and sickening crush on the man whom you knew close to nothing about. Just his name and a few things he revealed to you when the night was particularly long or the whisky he was having took a toll on his judgement, loosening him up for once. You knew where he was from, what his job was before, and you knew that he was basically just a grumpy old asshole who was only good for beating up guys when you went on supply runs.

He had never been overly kind to you, not that you needed it, had never asked you any questions, didn’t make small talk, and was a ruthless murderer.

You loved every single thing about him.

And you wanted to show him. You wanted him to love you back, no matter how he’d love you. You wouldn’t mind if he was a cold lover, a mean one - hell, he almost definitely was - you’d take him any way you could get him.

You looked back at his hands once more, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he had to use his ring and middle fingers to clean out part of another gun, your thighs clenching together as you felt the all-too-familiar wetness start to form between them and making you groan when you realised you’d probably have to rub one out when you got back later. It was honestly annoying the amount of times you came by your own hand, his name on your lips, because you knew how much better it would feel if it was his thick fingers pushing into you, his big hands palming your breasts, his strong arms holding you down as he made you come over and over…

“Let’s get goin’.” He says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts as he tucks his gun away and slings his backpack on.

You push yourself off of the wall and follow him quickly, trying not to look flustered although you very much felt it.

He came to an abrupt stop when you reached your normal exit from this little pitstop en route to the guys who gave you weapons, and you almost walked face-first into his back.

“Joel? Wha-” you began, but he cut you off.

“This shouldn’t be closed.” He murmurs, like he’s talking to himself, not allowing you any time to respond before he’s going over to pull the chain which should open the garage door.

It doesn’t.

No matter how much he pulls on the metal, grunting and groaning and making your eyes flutter shut whilst you force your needy whimpers down with the noises he’s making, it barely opens, slamming shut every time he gets close to getting it open a quarter of the way.

“Fuck.” He grits, giving up and slamming his hand against the thing. It would be no use trying with that door anymore, the noise it was making was getting too loud anyway.

He stands there, clearly thinking hard about what to do. You can’t turn back because that would just lead you straight back to the QZ, which was useless to you right now, but you don’t have any other secured ways to get to your vendors - how could he have been so stupid to not plan ahead, he ridicules himself silently.

“Joel? What’s the plan?” You ask, getting slightly impatient with his constant silence. He may have been this hot brooding older man, but he could really leave you in the dark sometimes like this.

“Will you let me think, goddamnit?” He responds, clearly annoyed with your current predicament, scratching at his jaw before looking back up at you.

“Could try that window.” You suggest quietly, looking upwards. It was high and small, but you’d be able to get through it if he gave you a boost up.

He gave you a small nod before you both made your way up there and he got into position, hands outstretched and placed together as you got on and pushed yourself up. Normally, whenever he did this, you’d feel all dizzy afterwards from the proximity and his touch - but as soon as you looked out the window you were horrified. There were infected, just past the jammed door - and a whole lot of them. You weren’t getting past that. Forget the deal, you’d come back another day.

“Joel.” You say, not even realising you were whispering. He doesn’t answer.

“Joel! Joel, get me down.” You whisper-shout, and he furrows his brows.

“Why? What’s the matter?” He asks, and you have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes.

“Just get me down.” You say through clenched teeth, taking another look outside the window before he carefully lowers you. Of course, he boosts you up regularly, but he rarely ever tries to get you back down, so you stumble a bit and end up with your face against his chest as he falls back onto the wall slightly.

“Jesus, woman!” He grunts, but you don’t even try to move, you just look up at him with those fucking doe eyes of yours and it takes everything in him to not groan at the sight of you. God knows how many times he’s imagined you looking up at him whilst you sucked his cock, knelt on the floor with tears in your eyes and your hair all messy for him with your big eyes staring into his.

You open your mouth to speak, before realising the position you’re in and quickly standing up.

“I- there were infected outside, Joel.” You explain after a moment.

“So?” He questions you, squinting in confusion slightly. You’ve taken down infected before, no problem. What’s the issue today?

“No, like- I swear it looked like there were a hundred of them. Just this big fucking horde, right outside the garage door.” You gestured back towards the exit.

He clenched his jaw. Yeah, okay, you could take down some infected, not a hundred.

“Y’sure?”

“I’m fucking sure, Joel!” You almost yelled, way too many emotions going on in your body for you to act normal right now.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He looked back outside. It was almost dark, there was no way you could get back to Boston in time now. It just wasn’t safe to go that far so late, and there was no point since you’d have to sneak by all the guards - who hopefully wouldn’t notice if you were gone for one night - to get back in.

“Go check all the doors, lock ‘em and then barricade ‘em. We’re gonna have to hold up here for tonight, then go back at dawn.” He decides, and you gape at him like a fish.

“We’re staying here?! Joel, what about curfew and the- the fucking infected right outside-” you start, but he silences you once again.

“We’re gonna be fine. When have things ever gone wrong for us since you started comin’ out with me?” He questions sternly, and you ponder it.

Never, really. He always saved you, and you’d save him when he needed it - even though it was only a handful of times he did.

“‘Kay, fine. Whatever.” You mumble stubbornly before turning round to go secure the doors leading to the small mechanic store you’d be staying in.

He looks around himself for any openings and closes them up before you both end up back in the main room.

It’s mostly silent as you look around at different things, poking at the ruined cars and whatnot whilst he sits on a crate and watches you as discreetly as possible.

“I have a question.” You say, turning to face him and making him snap his head away from you before you notice he was looking at you already.

He grunts to tell you to continue speaking, looking back at you when you do.

“Could you like.. show me how to fix up my guns and stuff? ‘Cause you always do it for me and I just thought it was.. Cool.” you murmur, trailing off at the end.

He actually lets out a small laugh at that. Not in a mean way, necessarily, just kind of teasingly.

“Cool?” He repeats with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, cool. It just- with all the attachments and shit. And I can never clean them properly.” You sigh, walking up closer to him. “Please? We’ve got nothing else to do.”

The sound of you saying please for him in that small voice wins him over. “Fine.” He gets up off the crate, walking back over to the workbench and flicking the light on before taking your gun from you. He talks you through it, shows you a little how to clean it before letting you try it yourself, and then he shows you how to add a scope to it. You can’t quite grasp it though, not being strong and precise enough to attach it properly, so he places his hands on top of yours and helps you screw it on.

The contact makes you shudder so violently that he definitely felt it, and you want to crumple into the ground.

“What was that for?” He murmurs, and you almost jump at how close he is now, voice loud and breath hot on the side of your face as he leans over your shoulder to look at the gun whilst he tries to help you.

“No-nothing.” You squeak, breathing at least ten times faster now.

He feels it. He knows. He has to know, you’d been so stupid and revealed it all now. Joel Miller was not an idiot and he knew how you felt and he’d hate you for it. Your thoughts spiralled.

“Nothin’, huh?” He taunts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you slowly crumble. To make it worse, he turns you in his hold, so you’re pinned with your back to the desk and his hands on either side of you.

“Y’alright, darlin’? You look awfully hot. Don’t got a fever or nothin’?” He mumbles, seeing how far he can push you as he leans in closer.

“I-I’m fine.” You say quietly, mesmerised by the sight of his face so close as you notice little details you’d never noticed before, barely even realising his lips are so close to your own until he’s pressing them to yours.

You make a slight noise of surprise before you get lost in it. The feeling of his lips against yours was something you’d dreamed about for so long, and now it was finally happening.

Your hands come up and around his neck, pulling him closer towards you as he deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and overpowering you immediately as he pushes you back onto the workbench, sitting you on top of it and already working open the buttons of your jeans.

He kisses you one more time before getting to his knees and pulling your pants completely off, eyeing your panties, a dark patch in the middle of them from your growing arousal.

“Joel, please.” You whimper from above him as his hands run up your legs, coming to your inner thighs before toying with the elastic of your panties.

“Y’need me here, darlin’?” He asks, smirking up at you as his fingers move to rub slow circles into your clit through the fabric.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the contact, needy and desperate for him by this point. “Yes, please- please Joel.” You’re reduced to begging already, something you figure only he had the power to make you do.

He shushes you gently, fingers slowly peeling your panties down and groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, dripping and pulsing with need.

“Fuck, baby. Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin’ wet. This all for me?” He hums, dragging a finger up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on it and sucking it into his mouth as he looks up at you.

You whine at the sight of him between your legs like this, not knowing how you’re going to survive when he actually makes contact with you, and nod furiously.

“Yes, oh my god. Yes, it’s all for you Joel.” You say quickly, and he seems satisfied with that answer, finally moving his face to your core and making you squirm as his hot breath fans over your pussy.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’.” He murmurs, seemingly enraptured by the sight of you, staring for a few seconds and making you want to shift away again under his intense gaze, but he has an arm on you to make sure you don’t move.

And then he finally, finally, licks a long stripe up your pussy, tongue running along your wet folds. And you fucking lose it.

“Oh my god, Joel, please. Fuck- fuck, please, more-” you start begging, moaning loudly as he picks up the pace and continues to devour you, drinking down your wetness, and eventually kissing and sucking at your clit. His fingers, those thick gorgeous fingers you’d dreamed of for so long, tease your entrance before he’s pushing those inside, making you wail at the feeling of something inside of you, getting you closer to that release you were aching for by this point.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, thighs shaking slightly as you feel yourself getting close.

“That’s right, baby. You like that?” He asks, voice an octave lower as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, tongue still working you over relentlessly.

“Please- it feels so good-” you whine in response, fingers grasping for something to hold onto, to tether yourself to earth with as you feel yourself start to float away. Finding his hair and tugging slightly which makes him groan.

“Good girl.” He praises, adding another finger. He curls his fingers, searching for your g-spot and finding it easily.

You moan weakly at the praise, hips bucking as you grind yourself against his mouth, the ridge of his nose stimulating your clit perfectly as your fingers pull at his hair, and before you know it, you’re coming with a hoarse scream of his name.

You see white as your thighs quiver around his head, tensing and squeezing slightly as he continues to work you through it, lapping at your juices until you cry out from the overstimulation.

He removes his fingers from your hole, licking them clean once more before standing up and removing his own clothes, revealing his hard cock and making your eyes widen slightly.

Of course he was big, you’d stared at the bulge of his jeans enough times to realise that, and you’d imagined it before, but it all paled in comparison to finally seeing it.

He was long, slightly curved, girthy with a flushed red tip which had precome leaking out of it as he pumped himself slowly with a smirk on his face.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” He hums teasingly, and you can’t even think straight anymore, just pulling him forward and kissing him hungrily as he positioned his cock at your slick entrance.

Needy little whines and whimpers flowed freely from your mouth straight into his, where he swallowed them whole before starting to push into you.

You part from the kiss suddenly, gasping as he pushes deeper and deeper, stretching you thoroughly, and you feel grateful that he has the decency to start off slow since you already feel like crying from how big he is, how fucking good it feels.

When he bottoms out, you’re already wrecked. He’s huge inside of you, and you can feel everything. Every single ridge, vein, and twitch of his pulsing cock as your walls hug him tightly.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs softly, making your heart swell at how tender he sounds right now, and you nod in response.

“Joel.. please move.” You whisper, and he complies, grabbing your hips and barely giving you a moment to think before he’s starting to pound into you, making you squeal as your arms came around his neck, nails digging into his back before his head ducks down into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point and making you clench harder around him, before moving down to your breasts, palming them and taking one of your nipples into his mouth as you scream his name.

“Joel! I’m gonna- gonna come- oh god, please!” You cry out, back arching. He growls, picking up the pace. He could feel his orgasm building, but he needed you to come first, needed to feel your tight walls clenching and gushing around him before he even considered his own pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more and I’ll fill you up. Fuck this little cunt full of me.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He says, voice low and husky as his balls slap against your ass, the loud sound of your wetness filling the room as you start to tremble once more.

“Yes! Fuck, Joel. Need it so bad. Want your come inside of me. Please, Joel.” You gasp, making him groan as his fingers move down to rub at your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages, speeding up even more and hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, making you scream as you come and dissolve into a shaking, whimpering mess whilst he continues to thrust into you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come all over my cock.” He grunts, his own release approaching quickly. The sounds of your moans and cries are enough to set him off, barely thrusting a few more times before stilling and filling you with his hot seed, slowly fucking it even deeper inside of you before pulling out and looking at you.

Skin flushed, panting heavily, come leaking down your thighs. You looked perfect. He wished that cameras were still around so he could take a picture of how you looked right now, keep it in his pocket wherever he went. But he couldn’t, and he realised you probably needed cleaning up now as your hazy eyes blinked open and looked at him. You were quiet, thinking about what this meant for the two of you now. Would he go back to being the cold man you knew? Would he be even colder? Would he suddenly be attentive and caring towards you?

You supposed you got your answer when he gently cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he looked at you with something scarily close to love in his eyes, the gaze he’d somehow managed to conceal from you all these months which he could now finally show you.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod weakly in response. He hums, giving you another small kiss before walking off to go get a rag to clean you up with.

“Hold on, let me just..” he mumbles to himself as he goes to try clean off any dust from the rag, before returning to between your thighs and cleaning away any evidence of your previous activities, tossing the rag somewhere and handing you your clothes. You get dressed quietly before he takes your hand and leads you over to a space on the floor where you set up your sleeping bags, putting them as close together as possible until he eventually just lets you tuck yourself into his, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and falling asleep.

You listen to his soft snores, feel his calloused hands on your stomach where they snaked under your shirt before he fell asleep, and smile to yourself softly before falling asleep with him.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and my requests are open 💞

933 notes · View notes

lcriedlastnight · 2 months ago

Text

lost the breakup | charles leclerc

○tw: alcohol, swears, charles is a proper dick, silly reader, this is the most angsty thing over ever wrote. to celebrate charles win today!○

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c: 4.3k of pure hell.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"this would be so much easier without you!" it felt like those words flitted around your brain in a loop ever since that night in charles' flat. you hadn't intended it to turn into a massive fight, all you said was you couldn't wait for summer break to finally spend some time with your boyfriend. but seemingly that was all it took for charles to go off on one, roaring at you as if you had actually done something wrong.

you had stood, staring at the man after he had stopped ranting about how being with you only brought him down and how life before you was much easier on him. you couldn't believe that was actually what he thought of your relationship. i mean it wasn't perfect, but who's was? all that you thought mattered was that you tried to make each other happy, and up until today you had thought that you were succeeding in that, clearly not.

"do you mean that?" there was an obvious wobble in your voice that you had tried to disguise but it didn't matter, charles didn't care anyways. you knew that now.

all it took for you to scramble to find somewhere new was that singular nod of his head. you knew he wasn't sure if he meant it but he nodded. he fucking nodded. you could've forgiven him if he took it all back then and there, he didn't even have to beg for your forgiveness you would've just given him it. but he didn't. you didn't mean as much to him as he did to you and he had made that oh so clear tonight. so you did what any sane person would do, you grabbed a pair of shoes and a jacket and left. a part of you thought that maybe he had said all that just to get a rise out of you and to create a fight between the two of you, for whatever reason? you didn't know but you had a nagging feeling that was why he did it. or maybe your brain was just trying to soften the blow of your boyfriend secretly despising you for god knows how long.

so yeah, that was how you ended up rotting in your bed. at this point you really shouldn't still care about him anymore but your heart refused to let him go. and it annoyed you so much. how was it fair that you sat here mourning your relationship and what it could've been while he was out there winning grand prix's and clubbing every other night, seen with a different girl every single time. while he was out picking up girls you were picking up your heart, that had gone straight in the journal as soon as you had thought it.

the fans had realised something was up by the second day of your breakup. you hadn't even collected all of your things from his yet and they were already trending you both on twitter. it honestly felt like the last thing you needed right now but you smiled through the pain and tried to make your instagram feel as normal as possible until charles put up a statement about it, so that you could too. then you could finally put this relationship to rest.

being with charles had given you a following of sorts of your own and you felt like you owed them something, seeing as they only liked you because you were dating- used to date charles. your best friend and current roommate (for the time being, seeing as you were living with charles full time before the breakup) jess had told you millions of times that they were just random strangers and you didn't owe them anything. it never eased the weight you felt though.

one night after the third night in a row of summer break (that very same summer break that you were longing to spend with charles) that charles was out and had been pictured taking some random girl home was the night where jess had tried to snap you out of it.

"i think it hurts more that literally none of them look like me? like if any of them resembled me at least i would know that he missed me, even a little bit. even if it was subconscious, you know?" you had ranted, staring holes into your phone that had showed you the dreaded pictures of the three girls who all looked alike in regards to each other but nothing like you. in fact they were the complete opposite of you in every single way.

jess had swiped your phone off of you and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans.

"look, you technically broke up with him but it doesn't matter. he clearly doesn't care so why the fuck should you?" ever so blunt, jess was.

"i don't mean to be mean, you know that. i mean this in the nicest way possible but you have to get over yourself. this isn't the end of the world as much as it feels like it. the world has continued to spin this past week and it will continue to do so no matter what so you need to get up and live your life. you're wasting your emotions on a man who literally doesn't care whether you live or die at this point."

although it was filled to the brim with all the shit you didn't want to hear, jess knew exactly what you needed and she gave you the wake up call you had been needing since that night. that night she helped you wash your bed sheets and tidy your room up, moving the furniture while blasting taylor swift's breakup songs. jess was still letting you grieve the relationship because she knew better than anyone, that you can't just hear one inspiring speech and finally stop caring about him. even though she knew that you would stop caring sooner rather than later with the way he was acting.

★・・・・・・★

"you better not wear that skirt with those heels!" jess' girlfriend, hailey had shouted over the thrumming bass of someone's getting ready playlist. you weren't too sure who's it was but you knew for certain it was not the usual music that was played in the flat.

'the inchident' (which you thought was a particularly cruel play on words) had happened almost a month ago and jess had invited your closest friends for a night out in monaco. as well as her girlfriend, she had also invited sophie, probably your second best friend.

"why?" sophie asked back, brows down as she moves the skirt in her hands, looking for an issue with it. "it looks good, no?". three shakes of heads are her answers.

"soph it looks so fugly." jess said, trying to pull on a pair of doc martens. you had burst out laughing at that and it had set everyone else off too. you knew pre-drinks were a great idea. the group had already taken three shots already and for a lightweight like you, this was the perfect state to go to the club like. drunk enough that the night seemed endless, plus you would save a fortune on drinks while you were there too, seeing as you were almost on your way to being absolutely smashed. exactly what you needed after this past month.

as you all clamber into the taxi to take you to the club, the group chatters with each other while jess is chatting away to the driver. she got so talkative when she had alcohol in her system. the ride to the club wasn't long so when you all arrive and after you had all given about a million thank you's to the driver you head into the club.

you and sophie find a table to sit at while jess and hailey head in the direction of the bar, hailey offering to buy the first round in celebration of you finally going out with them for the first time in months.

in the taxi ride over, sophie was telling you all about the boy she was speaking to and how he may or may not be a famous athlete. after a joke or two from you about watching what she's getting into she tells you that she had been on a few dates with him and they were days away, as she put it, from becoming official. with all of this in mind you still had no idea why, when you were both on the hunt for a free table, scouring around the very back of the club, she suddenly stops in her tracks, grabs your arm and turns to face you. the poor girl looked like she was about to pass out. surely she hadn't had that much to drink already, you had just gotten here, you had thought to yourself before she spoke up.

"that's him! he's here?!" sophie whisper shouts as she kind of just stands there, almost like shes lagging. you look at her, confusion plastered all over your face.

"who? who's here?" you ask her. it's easy to tell she is annoyed at your question but she's much too preoccupied to tell you off for it in her usual sophie manner. like her fight or flight kicks in at that very moment she suddenly pulls you towards the large booth filled with people, seemingly all men but maybe a few girls from what you could make out. it was actually really dark in this part of the club.

"my man." the blonde girl whispers to you like it was obvious, nothing was obvious to you when you were sober never mind this tipsy. you recognise a man at the end of the row but it doesn't sink in your muddled brain until you are standing directly in front of near enough half of the grid.

you stand like a deer in headlights as it clicks in your brain. the weight of a thousand busses suddenly weighing down on your chest. oh this was so not good. you hadn't looked to see if he was here but did you really need to? it seemed like he was going out at any chance he could find since the two of you last spoke. you avert your attention to sophie who was standing very closely to the man at the edge, who you now could see what carlos. you had no idea that was who she was talking about.

you hear someone in front of you call your name, one of the drivers, maybe lando? he had always been nice to you any time you and charles went out together and ran into him. you don't reply, not that you get the chance to because an arm is gripping yours from behind and at first you swear your heart falls right to the ground and is so very close to taking you with it but you look over and see it was only jess and hailey with your drinks. this was not how tonight was supposed to go.

jess says something you can't hear to sophie and the blonde nods back before you feel your best friend pulling you away from the table. you still feel frozen as she drags you to a free table you and sophie must have missed on your own hunt. you felt like you were having an out of body experience. there was no fucking way in hell that just happened. no way he was here. why couldn't he just let you have this one night to yourself without ruining it? he had already ruined your life, what else does he want?

hailey slides you your drink of choice and heads back up to the bar to order another, knowing you'll need it. jess could see the look in your eyes even if you couldn't feel it yet. what stage of grief was this you were in now? because all you wanted to do was to get the ground to swallow you whole. maybe depression. jess' soft voice pulls you out of your daze.

"hey, drink it. i'm not encouraging drinking to numb your feelings but tonight is not the night to deal with whatever the fuck that was." jess says, her voice as comforting as she could make it. you really appreciated it so you downed your drink and waited for hailey to come with your next.

"we'll process this tomorrow but tonight, we drink." hailey says as she returns. you swear you hear her curse sophie under her breath as you drink. you didn't blame sophie though, she didn't know he would be there and clearly didn't think before she acted. you think that maybe hailey and jess are mad at her now. great, another thing in your life falling apart. you were so getting shitfaced tonight.

the drinks blended into one another as you danced with your friends after sophie had joined you, after promising to carlos she would leave with him.

you were swaying to one of your favourite songs when carlos come over to distract sophie, you just smiled at the two 'couples' that surrounded you. even if there was a clear favourite, nothing against carlos but c'mon. it was jess and hailey. speaking of they had signalled to tell you they were off to join the long line for the toilets. they had asked of you wanted to come but you didn't need to pee so you said no. you should've went though, you probably would need to pee by the time you got to the front of the line but your drunk brain was not in the mood for rational thinking.

that's why when a man slides his arms around you don't protest it and instead lean into him. it had nothing to do with the familiar scent flooding your nose or the hums you heard every single night in your sleep, nope. nothing to do with that twat.

"This one is your favourite, no?" his accent fills your ears and you can literally feel the tension from the past month ease out of you. you lean further into charles as you sway a little to the beat. you were far too drunk to dance properly, the way you were when you first stepped foot onto the dance floor.

"mhm." you nod as your hands slide down to rest on his clasped ones, which were holding your stomach to keep you close, you hoped. charles moves his head to right behind your ear, just so you can hear him better. there was no way he didn't hear or even feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his breath on your ear. if you weren't this plastered then you would be so embarrassed at how easily you let charles do this again. you could even hear the rational part of your brain screaming at you, asking you what you were doing but you could barely even see at this point so of course you ignored it in favour of being the girl in his arms again.

"then why'd all your friends leave you, sweetheart?" charles asks, it feels teasing and maybe even a little mocking but there is no way you would be able to tell the difference in this state, so you just respond, dumbly. "they went to pee."

charles laughs in your ear and it sends goosebumps throughout your body and puts a sappy grin on your face. you hadn't heard his laugh in a while and it felt so good to hear it again. it felt like home to you and god had you been homesick.

you would've done anything the man asked you to when you were like this, well maybe sober too but when you were sober you would've definitely put up more of a fight about doing it. maybe charles was taking advantage of this as he practically moves you both to the next song that plays. it's a good job that jess and hailey come back when they do because you would've done anything for him. it felt like he actually wanted you again. you had missed him like this and here he was acting like he couldn't get enough of you. every part of you hoped to remember this in the morning as both girls pulled you away from his grasp (without any fight from charles, which told the girls everything they needed to know) and took you home, without as much as a goodbye to sophie. safe to say she was not going to be invited round again after tonight.

the next morning consisted of waking up at three pm with the sorest headache you think you've ever experienced and a blurry memory. turns out your hoping and praying last night had worked because the only thing you can remember is the way charles held you. the words he said weren't one hundred percent clear but god if this didn't set you back three weeks. jess was furious with sophie and hailey had literally cut her off in every single way possible. jess tells you over dinner that night that hailey had blocked sophie last night when you had gotten home and it did make you laugh but now you had to mourn the end of two relationships. you knew it was for the better but it still killed you, ripped you apart from the inside.

the thing that hurt you most was charles. you reflect on it in the shower after dinner. he knew how drunk you were and he still came over, clearly because he knew it was the only time you would let him back in without any fight. did that mean he missed you like you missed him? or was he just doing it because he could, showing you (a drunk you, mind you but still you nonetheless) that no matter what he still had his claws in you? your questions were answered as you scrolled through a gossip page and seen that charles left with another girl who looked nothing like you last night. you really had to stop looking through those pages, it did nothing but bring you down.

★・・・・・・★

nothing prepared you from the instagram dm from the quiet australian mclaren driver about another month after the club incident. he had never really spoken to oscar a lot before back when you were a regular in the paddock but it was still super nice to hear from him. it didn't mean you were prepared for him to ask you if you wanted paddock passes to be guests of mclaren at the next race. when you had asked what you had done exactly to deserve this gift, oscar had responded with 'i know your birthday is coming up and i also know how much you love f1'. you cried to jess before texting him back that you would take them. he was such a lovely boy.

you knew how bad ferrari were doing because you were an f1 fan way before you had even met charles so you of course kept up with the sport even after the breakup. even though it killed you to see his face on the screen. and you would never admit this to anyone, not even jess but seeing ferrari do so badly did make your heart ache for charles.

a few days before the race jess takes you shopping to find the outfit that makes charles beg for you back just so you can let him down harshly. her words of course, you would never even think that. as much as he's hurt you there wasn't a bone in your body that wanted to hurt him in return.

"i'm not drinking today, or tonight." you inform jess as you enter the paddock, the cameras immediately snapping in your face. you had not been in the eyes of the media for a good few months and now coming back to this made you feel dizzy but you powered through it because you had missed attending races so much. you found yourself beating up past you for not appreciating the privilege you had, getting to attend all those races.

"mhm, sure you aren't." jess doesn't even try and entertain you. you roll your eyes at her words.

"we both know what happened the last time alcohol and a certain ferrari driver mixed and i, for one, don't feel like going back down that road again." you try to make a joke out of it you're sure it would've worked if it was anyone but jess, she knows you far too well.

oscar greets you not long after and has the audacity to thank you for accepting his invite, he was literally the sweetest boy who's ever walked the earth and jess was sure to let him know of that fact. it left him with a big grin and rosy cheeks.

you and jess both cheer on the mclaren cars, which you have to admit, was one of the weirdest things about the full experience. you couldn't help but let your eyes wander to the red of the ferrari cars every now and then. you will your eyes to shift in the opposite direction every time. no way was anyone catching you lacking today, not on jess' watch that was for sure.

lando and oscar end up both on the podium so it was a great finish for the papaya team. oscar comes over with lando this time, after the podium and they both thank you and jess for coming again and this time you give them both swety, champagne covered hugs, unaware of the eyes peering into your soul.

said boy catches you on your way out, again when you're alone while jess makes a quick pitstop at the bathroom. you were hanging around across the hall, waiting for her to come out.

"hey, didn't know you still came to races." charles tries to make casual conversation with you. like the months you two were together didn't mean anything and like he hadn't just used you as a player in his game when you were hammered last month. this man has no dignity you swear. you had thought a few nights after the night out at the club that night.

"oscar asked me." you take a page out if jess' book and stick to the blunt responses. you knew you had moved on from the boy in front of you because as soon as he made his way over you weren't nervous or excited, you were annoyed. it made you feel happy and a little healed. charles seems surprised at your bluntness so he cuts to the chase.

"i miss you." he utters your name. "i miss you so much. i keep dreaming about us, and every morning, it feels like I've lost you all over again." you don't even look in his eyes to see if he's telling the truth. you used to be able to read him for filth, like he was your favourite book that you had read and re-read a million times, a book you had scribbled all your thoughts onto. now he just feels like a book you used to love when you were a child and as much as it helped shape you into the person you are now, you have new favourites now, that you read over and over and write inside, for someone else to read your thoughts and feelings.

you do though, see it hitting charles that you won't let him walk all over the top of you anymore. you see it register on his face and he makes a move to leave you be. maybe the you from a few weeks ago would've cried at the thought of this happening but whatever has happened to you in the past couple week has helped you grow mentally and helped you know your worth. charles walks away without so much as a goodbye, and you hope it kills him.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc one shot #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fic #f1 angst #charles leclerc angst #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lcriedlastnight

371 notes · View notes

neoneun-au · 4 months ago

Text

CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER IV: HEAR ME OUT

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, therapy, 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iv: hear me out

The morning dawns bright and bleary-eyed and you starfish out in bed, stretching your limbs and feeling more relaxed than you’ve felt in months. You take your time getting ready–a leisurely shower, a lengthy scroll through social media, closing and re-opening the same work email five separate times to reassure yourself that this recent project was in fact not due first thing Monday morning. A weekend of peace and freedom–no looming threat of work obligations and marginally less sexual frustration than usual. Pure bliss.

Sounds of life start to filter in through your door from the hallway about an hour after you first wake up; the rest of condo inhabitants up and about after their own late Friday night escapades. You had heard a few of them coming in around 2:00am or so as you began to drift off to sleep but otherwise what time everyone got in and got to bed was a mystery to you. After a few minutes lingering at the edge of your mattress listening to your stomach rumble, you drop your feet to the ground and step out into the hallway in search of breakfast.

Mingyu, it seems, had the exact same plan as you. His door clicks shut behind him just as you close your own and you stand facing each other like you had just run into your long lost lover at a train station someplace far from home.

“Good morning,” he says after a beat, the hint of a smile beginning to creep in at the corners of his mouth.

“Morning,” you reply, feeling the fog of contentment settle back down to reality as you stand opposite him–your hand tugs gingerly at the hem of your old floral nightshirt.

“How did you sleep?” he asks and you can’t tell if there’s an edge of conspiracy in his voice, an ‘I know what you did last night’ gleam in his eye. You’re probably imagining it. You hope to god you’re imagining it.

“Quite well,” you respond, shaking off the thought and stubbornly refusing to give in to the fear that he had heard you in the midst of your fantasies. You cross your arms over your chest in defense–warding off any further psychic connection. “You?”

“Good,” he replies and you nod in acknowledgement. His gaze flitters from yours to the hallway behind you, pointedly avoiding drifting lower than your face and you realise after a second that he has a fairly decent top down view of your cleavage. You let your arms fall back down. “Got any plans today?”

“Meeting up with some friends later, but aside from that nothing, thankfully,” you reply with a shrug. “How about yourself?”

“Not much,” he mirrors your shrug and you worry for a second that you are going to be left repeating yet another stunted hallway conversation. Thankfully he opens his mouth after a breath to continue, “Though, I think Seungcheol is trying to recruit me for some promotional video for his gym. I told him to ask Vernon since Vernon is the actor.”

“But he still wants you to do it?” you ask, closing the shutter on the mental image of Mingyu lifting weights before it can imbed itself in your subconscious alongside his bare nipples.

“Yeah, he told me Vernon has the body of a wet noodle.”

You laugh, the veil of tension that had descended on the pair of you relaxes back into normalcy at the comment and you’re glad for the distraction. “I would say I’m surprised but that tie-dye is pretty baggy…” you trail off with a grin and Mingyu tosses his head back in laughter before turning with you to head down the hallway.

The kitchen is abuzz with activity when you enter, Seungcheol is deep in a lecture aimed directly at Vernon who appears to not fully be listening despite the occasional cursory nod. The distinctive scent of eggs permeates the air and you notice an array of food already laid out on the table in front of Jeonghan.

“Morning you two,” he greets, one eyebrow raised. As usual, seeking out some sort of intrigue. “Late night?”

“Not really,” you reply, shaking your head and refusing to take the bait. You sit down at the table and swipe a slice of bread from the side of his plate; sinking your teeth into it before he can admonish the theft. “I’ve been awake for an hour already, just hanging out in my room before joining you animals.”

“Is that so?” he asks, unwilling to give up the narrative he has built in his head. You knew confessing to him about your micro-crush (if you could even call it that) on Mingyu was a bad idea, but you thought that after the stern warning and lecture he had given you that he might actually be normal about something for once in his life. No such luck.

You open your mouth to reply, more than ready to raise your own sword in this duel, but you’re cut off before you can begin as the rest of the household takes a seat at the table to join you.

“Mingyu, how did that date go last night?” Seungcheol asks, relieving Vernon of his lecture for now. An apparent relief as Vernon immediately gathers up a small plate of food before retreating from the kitchen completely.

Date? The word shoots through the room like a lightning bolt. Jeonghan glances at you, fox-like features alight with malicious curiosity. You stare wide-eyed at Mingyu as he opens and closes his mouth like a trout caught in a net. “Oh uh…I cancelled it, actually,” he carefully avoids your gaze, instead burying his face in his mug of coffee.

“Cancelled it? Why? I thought you said she was cute?” Seungcheol asks, blissfully ignorant to the relay of glances darting around him. He waits happily for Mingyu to respond, grabbing a few slices of fruit from Jeonghan’s plate before he can swat his hand away.

“She was yeah,” Mingyu concedes with a small laugh. You see a faint hint of red starting to colour the tips of ears as all three sets of eyes around the table fix their attention fully on him, all for different reasons. He rubs at the back of his neck and feigns a nonchalant shrug, though it’s plain to see that he could not be feeling more chalant. “I just didn’t think it was really going to go anywhere, so I cancelled it.”

Seungcheol laughs, taking a bite of his prize apple, “since when have you ever cared about it going somewhere before?”

Mingyu bristles, hackles raised at the implication in the question. An uncharacteristic frown deepens in the corners of his mouth, marring his handsome features. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not just a slut. I do actually want a relationship.”

You’re so caught up in listening to the exchange that you don’t notice his eyes darting to meet yours before it’s too late to avoid them. You find yourself locked in his gaze again, a beat too long to go unnoticed by Jeonghan as he chuckles next to you.

You feel the air around you thicken and scramble to your feet to beat a hasty retreat, following in Vernon’s footsteps. With slightly trembling hands you collect a mug and grasp for the box of assorted teas from the top shelf.

Seungcheol, it seems, has given up on ribbing Mingyu about his dating life and instead turns his attention towards you just as you try and make yourself invisible in the corner while you wait for the kettle to boil. “Ready for another jog tonight?”

“Oh, no I uh–” you stutter, “I actually have plans tonight so I won’t be able to.”

He frowns, wide brown eyes shimmering with disappointment and you feel like you just let your parents down. “This isn’t an excuse to get out of training, is it?” he asks and you shake your head, frantic to dispel the thought.

“No, not at all, one of my friend’s is back in the country, she lives in England and she’s only here–”

Seungcheol holds up a hand–flat, open palm halting your excuses. “Say no more,” he says, “we can reschedule for tomorrow night. Friendship is worth the sacrifice.”

“Oh…okay thanks,” you reply, unsure of what else to do with the proverb. The kettle whistles and you pour the hot water into your mug–careful to avoid sloshing it over the sides.

Tea in hand you turn to rush back towards the safety of your bedroom as Seungcheol and Mingyu strike up a conversation about the national soccer team’s prospects. Jeonghan keeps you locked in his sights as you walk by, fixing you with an evaluating look that would be withering if it weren’t mostly just irritating. You snatch his last slice of toast without looking back.

The hum of the sports bar fills your senses, dulling your thoughts (a not unwelcome intrusion).

It’s the sound of pool balls smashing against each other as they shoot across the beer-stained green top of the billiards table. The faint scent of chlorine bleach mixed with body odor and stale cigarettes. The round robin of songs floating out from the made-to-look-old jukebox in the corner. It was as familiar as it was revolting and you found yourself lost in your surroundings, half expecting an old college fling to rear his ugly head up from behind the bar.

It had been Yerim’s idea to visit a few of your old haunts from before she moved away. Some burst of nostalgia propelling her on a mission to hunt down every decrepit pub and restaurant that you had all graced with your presence–pockets lined with scholarship and loan money intended for tuition and books but all too often spent on cold coffee and hot street food.

Most of them had since closed for business (much to her vocal distress), but the few that she did manage to remember and locate had now become items on her itinerary during her visit.

Thankfully work obligations had kept you busy through half of it and she was mostly content with dragging her English friend around with her, but you knew you weren’t going to be able to avoid it forever. And despite the chaos that usually followed her around like a shadow, you did want to see her before she left again.

So now you’re sitting across from Seulgi and Yerim in some sports bar in Itaewon that you barely remember the name of having been unceremoniously thrust upon arrival into the booth next to Yerim’s friend Sam.

He’s tall, lightly moustached, and smells faintly of bargain bin cologne. He greeted you with an appraising nod that made you somehow both appalled and flattered and now he’s talking at a steady monotone into your ear about some observation on the local food or another while you sip on your lukewarm pint of ale. You’re nodding at the appropriate intervals, giving little hums of approval where needed, but your mind is occupied watching the game of darts across the bar and not actually hearing a single coherent word come out of his mouth.

“It’s a rather tepid way to play, I always thought–”

His voice drones on in the background, roughly the same decibel as the ambient noise of the room so it was easy to ignore. You flick your eyes from his face down to the table and back over to the group of men playing darts. You used to be good at darts. You recall the weight of the slim bolt of metal as it would rest in your palm, waiting for your turn while you were already half-cut on happy hour brews and whatever the guy of the moment was buying for you.

“You know, I’ve always admired a woman’s natural ability to–”

One of the darts group strolls over to the bar, trying to catch the bartender’s attention as he leans against the back wall and chats with the sole waitress in the place. She looks young, maybe 21 or 22. She’s probably in college, working to pay her way through school or just for some extra spending money. That ash blonde balayage can’t be cheap to maintain…

“Don’t you think so?”

Isn’t that Wonwoo’s friend? Or boss? Or whatever? That short guy with the black ponytail throwing darts? You vaguely recall him from a work dinner years ago at their company, but according to Wonwoo he was a big homebody so you rarely ever saw him.

“Hello, is anyone alive in there?” Seulgi’s voice cuts through your mental fog and you snap back to attention, blinking the focus back into your eyes as you notice everyone at the table staring at you.

“What? Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew, what were we talking about?”

“Who?” Yerim asks, craning her neck to try and spot a familiar face. None appear in her immediate line of sight and the disappointment is evident on her expression as soon as she turns back around. You’re not sure what her intention was in dragging everyone back here but you wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibilities that she had brewed up some fantasy of running into a washed up ex-boyfriend and getting the chance to flaunt how successful and worldly she has become over the years. Not that you could blame her for the fantasy, you would probably be doing the same in her position.

She excuses herself to the bathroom and you watch as she slips out of her seat and saunters across the room, head bobbing side to side to make sure that there was no one there that she knew before disappearing around the corner.

“You’re so distracted tonight,” Seulgi states, pulling your attention back to her. She’s eyeing you with suspicion, one eyebrow slightly raised, as she sets her empty pint glass down onto the table.

“It’s just been a long time since I’ve been back here, it’s kind of weird.” You shrug off her suspicion, pointedly ignoring her amused scoff. Someone clears his throat beside you and you’re forced to remember Yerim’s gangly British friend.

When you first met up for dinner earlier, Yerim had pulled you aside while he and Seulgi were discussing the cost of beef in Korea vs the UK to gauge your interest in him and through a series of frantic hand signals you were sure you had successfully communicated that you had absolutely zero interest in this cardigan-wearing man even if he was mostly polite and non-threatening. Yerim pouted for a minute, as she was wont to do, before shrugging and reaching for another slice of pork belly and dropping the matter.

Afterwards, it felt like someone had let the steam vent off on a pressure cooker. You were able to relax and Yerim mostly stopped trying to force conversation between yourself and Sam.

Without Yerim around now, though, you realise how out of his element he must feel. A twinge of guilt for how quickly you had written him off started to creep up inside you. Maybe you didn’t want anything romantic with him but did that mean you couldn’t get to know him a bit? Maybe he wasn’t all that boring. Maybe you could get lost in a nice, simple conversation with someone who didn’t have the full documented history of you or your many neuroses.

“So, did you grow up in London?” you ask and he startles, taken off guard by the sudden attention.

“No, uhh–” he stammers and you watch a slight layer of breath fog up his glasses as he snorts a small laugh, “it’s a funny story actually, I–”

“Oh my god!” Yerim’s voice breaks through his sentence as she rushes back towards the table–cutting him off before you have the time to decide whether it actually is a funny story or not.

“Guys, red alert,” she stage-whispers, crashing back into her seat. She’s panting, eyes wide as saucers–for a split second you wonder if she had done a lap outside in the cold. “I just went to the bathroom and you’re never going to guess who–”

Her voice fades into the background as your vision narrows to a point. Wonwoo’s eyes catch yours from the hallway Yeri had just run back from and you feel your heart plummet to its assured death in the pit of your stomach.

When had he gotten here? He’s half a foot taller than most of the people in here, how had you not noticed him earlier? Were you that painfully oblivious or had he crawled in under your nose?

You sit transfixed–frozen solid at the sight of him–and judging by the expression on his face he’s just as shocked to find you here. You’re sure he hadn’t anticipated running into the girl who broke his heart in a random sports bar in Itaewon.

Everything slows to a stop, like one of those scenes in a rom com where the main characters see each other across the room and everything else goes blurry. It’s just them, their feelings, and whatever indie love song was chosen for the soundtrack. You wonder if the actors in those scenes feel it as strongly as you do now. It would be hard to act when you feel like your stomach is going to fall directly out of your ass.

In the span of a breath, as abruptly as it had begun, the spell is over. The director calls cut, the background actors return to normal, the sounds and sights of the bar rush back into your periphery and you’re stuck frozen in your seat, staring at Wonwoo with your jaw slightly unhinged while your friends exchange knowing glances.

“What’s happening?” Sam asks, his voice pinging off the side of your attention like an errant tennis ball.

“I swear I had no clue he was going to be here,” Yerim starts, an edge of panic coating her words as they spill out of her mouth. You barely hear her. You’re too busy watching in horror as Wonwoo seems to also snap back to reality. You see his eyes flit from you to Sam and back again–he seems to be hovering on the precipice of a decision, wheels turning in his mind as he considers all exit strategies. Or at least, that’s what you would be doing in his shoes.

The horror rises higher and higher in your throat as he starts to grow bigger in your vision. A trick of the mind. The object of so many of your thoughts and anxieties exploding into IMAX sized pixels right in front of your naked eyes, expanding over the whole screen of your view until he seems to loom over you like an omnipresent being. It isn’t until he’s about a foot away from you that you realise this is just because he was walking in your direction.

“Hey,” he greets, caution clear in his voice.

You gape at him, open mouthed and floundering, and Seulgi (blessedly) takes over the interaction in your stead before it gets too awkward and everyone explodes in the wake of your embarrassment. “Hello,” she supplies, “did you just get here? I’m surprised we didn’t see you earlier.”

“Yeah,” he nods, a slight awkward laugh cushioning the word as he speaks. “I’m here with some colleagues from work, one of them is a huge Arsenal fan so he wanted to catch the game down here.”

“That’s cool,” she nods and you feel her nudge your shin with the toe of her boot under the table, forcing you out of your slack-jacked state. You snap your mouth shut and take a sip of your drink, averting your eyes from Wonwoo as you feel heat creep up your neck.

Seulgi, uncharacteristically polite, continues, “do you remember Yerim?” the woman in question smiles at him as her name is said and he nods his acknowledgement, “she’s back in Seoul with her friend here. We’re just catching up. How have you been?”

“Good, good,” he starts and then, thinking better of it, clears his throat to retry, “well, not bad. Work and…everything, you know? How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just great,” Seulgi smiles and boots you again. You take the hint and finally lift your gaze, catching Wonwoo’s eyes as they flicker over your face.

“How are you?” he asks again, voice softer. The question is directed at you and you feel the weight of it sink in as you try and sort through your scrambled thoughts for any semblance of a coherent response.

“Fine uh, yeah,” you nod, head bobbing on your neck like a loose spring. “Good. Long time no–umm…Jihoon, is that? How’s every–? You’re? He’s–work good?”

Wonwoo is silent for a second, processing the tangle of words that had just spilled free from your mouth, before you see him connect the dots. “Yeah, he’s doing well. Work is…well the same as always, really. Not much changes there.”

“Right, yeah,” you nod, a pained half smile stretching over your face. You’re sure you look horrific–terrified or terrifying. The heat continues to rise up your neck and into your head, further suppressing any hope for conscious, articulate thought as you buckle under the weight of Wonwoo’s gaze. Seulgi kicks you under the table a third time and you think you might scream.

“I was uh,” he pauses, chuckling lightly. You can see his fingers clutching at the edges of his sleeves, worrying a loose thread as he collects himself. You watch as he wraps and unwraps the thread around his index finger, twisting the rest of the fabric up in his fist. He’s anxious.

You remember making fun of him once–early in your relationship–for this habit. He was even more shy and reserved back then, unable or unwilling to tell you what he was thinking half the time, and unsure the other half. But you could always tell, once he started tugging his sleeves further and further down his arms–hiding his wrists, then hands–that he had something he needed to say. Something he had been worrying about for a while. Truthfully you found it cute, a grown man with sweater paws like a child in his dad’s clothing, but you couldn’t help but tease him anyway. He looked so sweet when he blushed about it, continuing to tug at the ends of his sleeves. And you just wanted him to tell you. You wanted to know, whatever it was on his mind, fraying the ends of his sleeves.

Wonwoo clears his throat and you refocus your gaze on him, heat slowly draining back down through your neck as you do. The feeling of being hunted for sport subsides as you come to your senses finally. “I was actually going to text you, but I just…” he trails off and you nod, encouraging him to continue. You’re sure the three extra sets of eyes boring holes into him with the laser beams of their curiosity is not helping his anxiety. Your own dangerous cocktail of anxious curiosity was a second away from implosion itself.

“There’s some stuff…at the apartment. Mail and…a few things you left behind. I thought you might want to come and pick them up, but I wasn’t sure if…” he gestures vaguely and you nod again. A strange swell of disappointment starts to creep in. That’s it?

“Oh yeah, of course,” you say, swallowing the disappointment down as quickly as it comes. What else could you have been expecting? “I’ll come and take those off your hands. Just um…text me when you’re free?”

He nods and, after a quick wave goodbye, heads back towards the small group of men that had been watching from across the bar. Your eyes follow his retreating back, watching his hands clasp and unclasp the fabric of his sweater as he does, before turning your attention back to your own group.

“Oh my god,” Yerim exclaims in a stage whisper, eyes saucer wide with glee. “He wants you to come over!”

You frown, the intrusive feeling of disappointment returning, “just to pick up some stuff, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh who cares about a bit of old mail, I would have just thrown it out if I were him,” she huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her line of sight.

“Isn’t that a crime?” Sam asks but the question falls on deaf ears against the wall of possibilities that Yerim is now crafting in her labyrinthine mind of reality tv plots.

“Listen,” she starts, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction and you wonder why you’re being lectured to all of a sudden. You haven’t even fully processed running into Wonwoo in the first place. You aren’t even sure you’re inhabiting a corporeal form right now. “Clearly he’s still in love with you.”

“Oh please,” you start but she shakes her head, resolute.

“Don’t fool yourself, what scorned ex-boyfriend goes out of his way to run into the love of his life in a sports bar accidentally.” She throws heavy air quotes around the word ‘accidentally’ and you just roll your eyes.

“I’m pretty sure it was just accidental,” Seulgi chimes in, the voice of reason.

“Yes, thank you, Seulgi. This is just a weird coincidence,” you sigh, spinning your glass around on its coaster.

“Or fate,” she beams and you want to laugh but the feeling dies before the sound can materialize. It feels too pathetic.

“Strange thing for fate to do, months after I’ve already broken up with him.”

“Wait, you broke up with him?” Sam asks, now invested in the drama despite all lack of knowledge surrounding the people and situations involved. You envy his ignorance.

You sigh and nod, “yes. I broke his heart and then left some reminders of it around the apartment we used to share so he’s asking me to come and take them so he doesn’t have to deal with it anymore.” Yerim opens her mouth to speak but you stop her with a glare, “it is not his way of somehow getting me back into his life, he’s just too nice to throw my stuff out without warning.”

“But what if–”

“No, there is no ‘if’. This is it. I’m going to go there, pick up my mail, say goodbye and that will be it. We’ll never have any reason to see each other again and he can move on and date someone else and I–”

I can too, you think–swallowing the words.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Sam says, breaking the spell of silence that had descended on the table. “You broke up with him but…you want him back? Or he wants you back? How long have you guys been broken up?”

“I’ll explain later,” Yerim whispers.

“No, no you won’t, because I don’t think you know completely either,” you sigh, angling to face Sam but aiming the bulk of the speech right towards Yerim herself. You glance across the room briefly–a cautionary look to make sure Wonwoo isn’t in earshot.

He’s leaning up against the far wall, pool cue in hand, watching as Jihoon leans over the table to line up a shot. The old Wonwoo would have left the second he saw you here, but there he is. Standing within 15 feet of you without breaking out into a cold sweat (as far as you can tell).

Maybe he has changed, you think. He must have felt you watching him because his eyes meet yours for a split second before you tear your gaze away from him–stare burning a hole into the table next to your hands.

You sigh again, feeling like you’ve aged 10 years in the past hour. “I broke up with him because I didn’t think either of us could give the other person what they needed. It was hard, and I still,” you blink back the threat of tears as they start to form in your eyes. Whether tears of frustration or otherwise you didn’t exactly feel like crying in a bar in front of your ex-boyfriend and some random British dude. “I still love him but I’m not in love with him. I’m moving on and…so is he.” You conclude, remembering the last time you ran into him. The girl he was with. The cold shock of ice water in your veins.

“I still don’t–” Sam starts but Seulgi cuts him off, her radar detecting the potential torrential downpour of anxiety and stress that is clouding your current emotional landscape.

“It doesn’t matter,” she waves the topic away with a swing of her hand, dismissing all further comments on the matter and releasing you of the risk of overexplaining yourself once again. “What’s done is done and whatever will happen will happen and it’s not up to us to decide what the best decision is when we’re not actually involved. So, are we getting another round or should I call a taxi?”

“Ooh, I was hoping we could go get some food now actually, there’s this super cute toast place a few blocks from here that I’ve been following on Insta and I need to get a pic with their neon displays.” Yerim, whether consciously or not, pivots immediately into a spiel about the rest of her plans for her vacation. You exhale slowly, relief sinking into your bones, and mouth a ‘thank you’ to Seulgi before she gets up to pay.

You sit silent, alone with your thoughts for a moment, and trace idle patterns over the wood grain of the table; listening to Yerim ramble as she takes Sam on an Instagram-based tour of all the places she intends on dragging him to for the next few days. Seulgi returns after closing out the tab and everyone starts gathering their things to leave, Yerim excitedly narrating the toast menu as you do.

Before you step out onto the night, you chance a final look across the bar towards Wonwoo to find him in the same position he was when you last dared to look at him. His eyes, slightly obscured by his glasses, were still fixed on you and you wonder if he had looked away at all over the past few minutes. He nods once, a minute tilt of the head, barely registerable unless you were paying as close of attention as you were, and you return it in kind before falling in line behind Seulgi and turning away from him.

It’s not until the cold air hits you that you start to feel the heat of his eyes dissipate into the night.

Minghao sits across from you, glasses perched delicately at the tip of his nose. His brown eyes evaluate you in silence as you adjust your posture in the brown leather wingback chair in his office–simultaneously too aware of your body and not aware enough to find a comfortable position. You finally give up fidgeting and decide to just tuck your wayward hands under your thighs to trap them there, offering him a small apologetic smile which he does not return, but he does nod and that is something isn’t it?

It’s been years since you saw a therapist. The last one was at university, just before the start of the second term in your second year. Right at the cusp of a break up and a full blown anxiety induced existential crisis. The persistent thoughts of ‘oh god I’m ruining my life I need to drop out or change majors or move to Australia and work with the Wildlife Warriors Foundation’ had devoured every sane idea you had until you found yourself in shambles in the Students’ Union all but begging for help.

The counsellor you had seen then had listened to you ramble in near silence before printing out some worksheets on deep belly breathing and anxiety management and sent you on your merry way to figure it out for yourself. So you did, eventually (though your GPA took a bit of a hit that semester), with some help from Seulgi and a TA that had taken pity on you and two years later you were graduating with a Bachelor of Design with a Minor in Print Media and those worksheets were buried somewhere deep in the recesses of your room, unread save a cursory glance.

This time felt different.

Instead of the wildfire of desperation and despair that had propelled you into the office in University all those years ago, you had (of mostly sound mind) reached out to Minghao with a formal request for an appointment and scheduled a time to sit down. For a few days leading up to the appointment you tried to collect your thoughts, formulate a plan for what you wanted to get out of these sessions, and corral your myriad of feelings into a neat script to recite to him—carefully crafted to best convey your current dilemma and also avoid a lot of those little things you did not feel quite ready to face yet.

“So,” he starts, offering you a small smile to ease the tension that always fills the office during first appointments, “let’s start with what you’re hoping to achieve from this session, and any going forward. What are your goals?”

Despite all your careful preparation, your mind goes as white as a sheet of paper. Goals? You ponder the word. Unsure now if you’ve ever had any goals at all or if you’d just been floating along aimlessly this whole time, somehow still alive through mere circumstance.

To be less of an anxious wreck? Sure, maybe that was one. But was it a goal or just a product of your neuroses? Were you even really that anxious or did you just overthink everything too much? Is that the same thing? Did you want to tell him that?

You chastise yourself silently, steering your errant thoughts away from the cliff they always careened off of and trying to remember the lists you had scribbled down prior to this appointment.

“I think,” you start, wincing at the weakness of the verb. How unsure you must appear to him. You glance at his face briefly. It’s carefully composed–no hint of the impatience you’re sure he must be feeling. “I mean, I was hoping we would be able to work on my trust issues and um…anxieties in relationships, find out the roots of those,” you start again, following the script you had mentally prepared, “and maybe come up with some strategies to heal from past relationships and maybe make future ones…easier?”

Good, good, you breathe a sigh of relief. These were not insane things to say. You are a normal person and these are normal goals.

“Okay,” he says, “that’s a good place to start as far as an end goal.” You smile, being careful not to let it grow too big to appear too pleased at the validation. Minghao continues, “when you say ‘relationships’, I’m assuming you are meaning mostly romantic relationships, correct?”

You fool, how could you forget to clarify that!

You feel a rush of mild panic swell up in your esophagus but you stave it off. You nod, clearing your throat, “yes, romantic relationships, exactly.”

“They all tend to overlap in a lot of ways but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page,” he smiles again, that same soft smile, and you worry he noticed you were starting to panic. “Why don’t you tell me about your last relationship?”

An open-ended question, okay okay. We were prepared for this, you coach yourself in silence, flipping through the mental pages of notes. Thankfully this one was easy. You had turned the problem of ‘me and Wonwoo’ in your mind over and over like a rotisserie chicken. You knew it inside and out. Every juicy morsel, every dry bone.

“We were together for three, almost four, years before we broke up, lived together for two. We met through mutual friends at a party and just…it was just us from there. Me and Wonwoo, Wonwoo and I, always together in the same sentence and the same places. It was a good relationship, but I just…I don’t know if we were compatible, really.”

“Well, you were together for 3 years, it’s hard to spend that much time with someone you’re entirely incompatible with,” Minghao interjects and you grimace in spite of yourself. “Is there anything specific that makes you feel like that was the case?”

“Specific…” you hum the word out loud. Despite all of the sleepless nights spent wondering this exact same thing alone, you were having a hard time summoning up any examples. “No, nothing…I don’t know,” you feel your house of cards start to lose its balance, the cracks begin to show.

“Let’s reframe, then,” Minghao suggests, noting the distress beginning to creep into your voice. “What attracted you to him in the first place? What made you think ‘yeah, I do want to date this guy’?”

“He was hot,” you shrug then when Minghao doesn’t laugh at the flippant comment, you backpedal. Embarrassment creeping in at the edges. Clearly your tactic of deflecting with humour had no power here. “I mean, obviously I was physically attracted to him, and since we met at a party that was sort of initially the only thing I cared about. But as I got to know him I think he was just…different.”

“Different in what way? From your usual type?”

“Yeah,” you nod, extending the hands of your memory into the past. Trying to grasp at the Wonwoo you fell in love with in the first place. “He was quiet, and he listened–listens really well. He’s smart, too. Could have been a doctor or professor but he said the amount of school needed for that wasn’t worth it. Which I guess I sort of agree with, it was just a shame.”

You glance at Minghao, who is still watching you from under the rim of his wire-frame glasses. You wonder briefly how he and Mingyu met. Whether or not it had been a good idea to book in with a therapist that was a good friend of your roommate/budding romantic interest. He wouldn’t tell him any of this…would he?

Minghao’s expression betrays no answer to these questions, just a silent cue for you to continue.

You sigh, releasing the thoughts, and do so, “before him, I had always dated really active guys. Guys that liked to be the life of the party, that always had something to say and never second guessed themselves. I was attracted to that confidence. I thought it was nice to be with someone brash and loud. It made me feel less alone in my own loudness and chaos. They never lasted, but they were always fun. Everything was so exciting and I was never bored. Even when it was bad it felt…dramatic. Like a movie. And it was college so I didn’t really ever feel like I had to sit down and ponder why the relationships didn’t last, only that they didn’t. We fought too much, partied too often, the whole relationship was just some drunk fling, whatever. It didn’t matter.”

“But Wonwoo was so…not any of that. He would come out to parties if I asked him to, but he usually spent them in the corner talking about books or petting a cat or following me around. He always wanted to leave early. He was always so eager to be at home.”

“And you weren’t?” Minghao asks and you barely register the question before you’re hurrying along to answer it.

“No, yes. I don’t know. At first I found it quite sweet–like he just wanted to spend a lot of alone time with me. And it was so novel and different that I never stopped to think it might be something I didn’t like.”

“At first?” Minghao clarifies and you nod.

“After a little while, I started to feel like I was forcing him to go out when he didn’t want to. I was being the overbearing, annoying girlfriend dragging him to these parties against his will. So I stopped going to a lot of them, and the ones that I did go to I said I could just go alone.”

“Did you ever ask him whether he felt the same way?” The question brings your thought train to a dead stop. Minghao can see the confusion twisting your brows so he continues, “you stopped going to parties because you thought you were being annoying by dragging him along but did you ever ask if he felt like he was being burdened by these outings?”

“No, I just…he never…he didn’t look like he was having a good time,” you flounder for an explanation, trying to remember what it was that had brought you to this conclusion in the first place. Had you ever talked to him about it? Were you just making all of this up?

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, maybe he really didn’t enjoy them. From what you’re telling me, he definitely does seem like more of a homebody,” he says, but you take little comfort in the words. “I am wondering, though, what brought you to this assumption without him mentioning anything about it. Did he ever say that he didn’t want to go? Or that he wished you wouldn’t?”

“I don’t…I can’t remember…” you say slowly, mind fogging up. A cloud of confusion overcrowding your thoughts.

“That’s okay,” he says but you do not feel like it is okay, actually. Had you ruined everything years ago without even realising? Was scheduling this appointment a mistake? “I don’t want you to overanalyze the specifics, those are often the least important part especially when something is in the past. We can’t change those things, only learn from them. It’s just helpful to know whether or not these trust issues have manifested more internally or because of external situations. To find out where they tend to stem from.”

You nod, the clock on the wall ticks as your thoughts wind through time. You want, so desperately, for there to be some solid memory to tie this all back to. Something from your past or your childhood to point to and say ‘look, there it is!’ A magical moment to blame all your issues on so that you can be born from this session a new person. But sadly nothing was ever that simple, and you couldn’t ever remember not being this way. Were you just…like this? Some untenable part of you broken at birth, barring you from ever developing a healthy, functioning relationship without feeling like you’re sacrificing some integral part of yourself while you do so? Or without feeling like it was all some illusion bound to disperse into smoke and mirrors with the snap of someone’s fingers?

“What are you thinking?” Minghao asks, clearly taking note of the darkening of your expression. The tension creeping into your brow. You don’t want to tell him. Don’t want the confirmation of being beyond help.

Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe it’s the opposite that you’re afraid of. That this image of self as someone floundering through life with all these worries and struggles, someone broken beyond measure, has just been that–an image. Something you made up to keep yourself safe somewhere along the way and really you could just change it all if you felt like that. If you threw off your cape of comfort and accepted the help you’ve so long denied.

“I just,” you start, rubbing at a sore spot developing on your temple. You try to push through the sudden urge to bolt out of his office right now and not look back. “I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid but I feel like I fucked everythig up. Like it’s my fault, and maybe if I could have just talked to him or trusted that he lo–loved me despite our differences…maybe everything would have been okay.” The distinct prickling of tears starts to burn behind your eyes but you blink them away, not willing to give into them so easily.

“Maybe,” he starts and you feel a pang of icy shock at the acceptance of this self-blame. You had expected the same pity and denial you get from Seulgi. You keep your gaze fixed on a small scuff on the top of his nice brown leather shoe, unable to meet his eyes as he continues. “Maybe if you had been able to accept that you are worthy of love from someone, regardless of your perceived flaws, or if you had been able to communicate more openly to be able to meet both of your needs within the relationship, maybe things would have been different.”

He pauses, whether for dramatic effect or to let you process what he’s saying, you’re not sure. You suspect the latter, but considering he’s a friend of Mingyu’s you can’t be completely certain.

“Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe even if you had done everything perfectly and nothing had ever gone wrong you still would have broken up. A break up is not a failure–not of the relationship and not of the individuals within it. There is always the chance that you had just outgrown each other without either of you fully realising it, and that’s okay. We don’t examine our past to further deepen self-blame and pity, we do it so we can learn what we need from them and accept these lessons so we can carry them forward into our future. And that doesn’t mean that we won’t have more break ups or more perceived failures, it just hopefully means we will be able to accept them as part of the process instead of a barrier to it.”

The speech slots itself into your brain, wiggling between long believed ideas and perspectives that had lived in there for years. Forcing its way in between them all. You feel it nestle in, planting its seeds until you can fully appreciate the thoughts he’s offering you. For now, you try to just fend off the part of you that resists everything he’s saying and listen to the (slightly quieter) part that knows you need to hear it.

“Do you–” you start, pausing to clear your throat of the lump that had built up while he spoke. “Do you think I will be able to get to…to that point?”

“Yes,” he nods, decisive. “How long it takes, though, will depend entirely on how willing you are to change. The fact that you’re here meeting with me shows you are at least ready, in part, to begin the process of releasing these old thought patterns. But there is no magic pill, and it takes time and effort. I am here to help, but ultimately it’s only you that can make this change.”

“And if I can’t change?”

“You can,” he says, shutting down the doubt immediately, “if you choose to.” Sensing your next question he continues, “and if you don’t then you continue life as you are and it changes you. The self is an adaptive state–always transforming. With or without my help or your conscious effort, change will happen. It’s just smoother a lot of the time if you can work with it instead of waiting for it to happen to you.”

“This is really too much, Mingyu.”

A plume of steam bursts out of the pot on the stovetop as Mingyu lifts the lid off to taste the sauce. He rears his head back to avoid the heat but still plunges his spoon-wielding hand into the steamy abyss to stir at the bottom of the liquid.

You watch, leaning against the counter behind him, in a state of concerned bemusement as he takes a few minutes to adjust the heat on his various pots and pans.

“What do you mean?” he asks, turning around and mopping the sweat off his brow with the dish towel he had draped over his shoulder. A few stray rivulets of steam trace their way down his neck and disappear into the collar of shirt. You try (unsuccessfully) to avoid thinking about the sheen on his skin as it glints in the light of the kitchen.

“All this,” you gesture vaguely to the arranged on the table, the splatters of food on his well-worn “Kiss The Cook” apron (a gag gift from Jeonghan, apparently). ”I figured we would just…I don’t know, order some fried chicken or something,” you explain but his expression remains puzzled. “You know, just casual. It’s just Seulgi.”

“Does she not like Italian?” he asks, a look of mild panic starting to etch into the corners of his eyes. “I knew I should have asked but I thought Italian would be the safest, most people like pasta but if she doesn’t–”

“No, no,” you cut him off before he can spiral further, “she likes Italian food, I’m pretty sure it’s one of her favourites actually, but I mean like…it’s just Seulgi.”

“But she’s your friend,” he states the fact like it should explain the fresh baked focaccia cooling on the counter behind him or the ludacris wine bill you got a look at earlier in the day. “Do you not like Italian food? If you really want fried chicken we can order some.”

One of the pot lids sputters with the force of steam it’s holding back and you choke back a laugh as Mingyu whips around to stir it back into submission.

“No, no, I love pasta I–” you pause, words dangling on the precipice of your lips, ready to say more, but you think better of it, remembering what Minghao had said at the end of your session about controlling outcomes. “Thank you for doing all this, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

He grins wide, relieved, and you pack away your lingering worries before leaving him to battle the remains of dinner alone.

The living room has transformed over the space of a few hours–soft lighting and soft blankets adorn the area and you’re greeted by the faint scent of grapefruit as Vernon moves around the room lighting a series of candles.

“Are we proposing to her?” you ask, taken aback by the effort put forth by all of your roommates.

“Do you think she’d say yes?” Vernon quips, turning around with a half-smile, and you roll your eyes.

When you had told them you were thinking of inviting Seulgi over for dinner (ostensibly to meet everyone, but more so to have a night with her where you didn’t have to bother leaving the comfort of your own home) they had reacted…minimally. Mingyu seemed excited at the prospect of hosting a dinner party and apparently had run wild with the power of doing so, but you didn’t think the other three had much cared beyond a vague curiosity about your friend. But even Jeonghan, who already knew Seulgi well, had gone to the trouble of purchasing flowers to liven up the living space.

“I just don’t know why everyone is treating this like we’re having an idol over or something,” you shake your head, flopping down on the couch and letting your head fall back against the cushion.

“Well,” Vernon says, taking a seat next to you, “to be honest, it’s mostly Mingyu that insisted on all of it.”

“Why?” Curiosity bubbles up and you take a cursory glance back towards the kitchen where Mingyu is still standing, glistening over the stove top as he maneuvers various dishes and pots around. You knew he was prone to overdoing things like this if your first big meal with the household was anything to judge from, but why would he bother to go to such lengths just to impress your friend that honestly would have been more than happy with a plate of fried chicken and a cold beer.

Vernon just shrugs before pushing himself off the couch into a full body stretch. “Well,” he says, “you know Mingyu.”

I guess I do, you think, curiosity unsatisfied by the lack of answers. You know Jeonghan might give you more insight but whether it was truthful or if you wanted to bear the brunt of his scrutiny for even asking was another question. Instead, you try to just let it go and text Seulgi an inquiry into her ETA while you listen to the clamour of dishes in the kitchen as Mingyu finishes assembling his feast.

Fifteen minutes and three introductions later, you’re all seated around the candlelit table passing around a dish of tajarin al tartufo.

“Where did you even get white truffles at this time of year?” Seulgi asks, sipping gingerly from her glass of Chardonnay (specially chosen for the occasion).

“I know some people in the industry,” Mingyu replies, tone casual��you can still see the glimmer of pride shimmering his eyes in the dim lighting however.

“Oh, do you work in the culinary sector?”

“No, not at all,” he shakes his head, “but I did a bit during school so I kept in touch with some people that way. Plus some of the people I graduated with ended up in the acquisitions side of the restaurant business.”

“Well,” she nods, setting down her glass, “I’m surprised honestly, this is like restaurant quality food. I wouldn’t have been shocked if you told me you were a chef.”

Mingyu brushes off the compliment with another laugh, but his smile again betrays how pleased he is by the validation. “It’s just a hobby, really. I like cooking for people.”

“And we’re happy to benefit from it,” Jeonghan chimes in, “we’d surely be starving if it wasn’t for our private cook.”

“Hey, I can cook,” Seungcheol grumbles, reaching for another slice of focaccia.

Jeonghan pats his arm with a solemn nod, acknowledging his skillset. “You’d get by fine, but these other two?” he gestures vaguely in yours and Vernon’s directions with a shake of his head, “hopeless.”

“Who needs to cook in this golden age of delivery?” Vernon asks, and you nod your agreement.

“Someone on a broke actor’s wage, maybe.”

“Touché,” Vernon shrugs, uninterested in defending himself further. “Won’t be broke much longer though, I booked a gig for next week so get ready for riches beyond our wildest imaginations.”

“Oh congratulations, what’s this one? Another commercial for a dog grooming spa?”

“Nope,” Vernon says, brushing off the light dig at his resume, “a bit part in a drama on KBS. I’ve got a name and a line and everything.”

“Riches beyond our wildest imaginations, hey?” Mingyu jokes, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what your imagination is like. It does pay though,” he shrugs, content to inhale another forkful of pasta.

“That’s actually great, Vernon,” you say, diverting the round of teasing towards something more supportive. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he replies, casual as always, “it's something at least. Saves me from having to go work retail for a bit anyway.”

“Well, if you do need a job at any point after this my cafe is hiring, I just had to fire my last guy,” Seulgi says, setting her fork down at the side of her plate.

“What happened this time?” you ask. You’ve been out of the loop of cafe drama for far too long. You were having trouble remembering if this was the same guy as the one that kept mixing up decaf and blonde roast.

“He got in a fist fight with a customer.”

“What? Like…at work?”

“Yeah,” she replies, dabbing at her mouth with the edge of a napkin. “To be fair the customer he beat up was sleeping with his girlfriend and he hadn’t exactly expected to see him there after finding out but still…it looks bad on me if I let it slide.”

“Still working at the cafe?” Jeonghan asks, “what happened to the start up?”

Seulgi grimaces and you can feel the annoyance seeping through her pores at the mention of her old job, the bitterness from the whole fiasco still running deep in her veins. “It went tits up, and turns out the CEO was embezzling money from the company so there weren’t even any severance packages. Haven’t been able to find anything since then, it’s a nightmare.”

“You work in tech?” Mingyu asks, leaning over to refill Seulgi and your wine glasses, finishing off the last of the bottle.

“Software development,” she replies with a nod of thanks for the wine.

“I might know someone hiring for Samsung, I could ask around for you if you want?” he offers, sitting back down in his chair across from you.

“You know someone that works at Samsung?” she balks and you watch her expression shift to open excitement at the possibility.

“I do,” he nods, “he was a nepotism hire, honestly, his dad is head of logistics but he owes me a huge favour so I could ask.”

“Mingyu,” she says, eyes narrowed to fine points as she stares at him from across the table, “I will give you my first born child in payment.”

“Oh, uh–” he laughs, a tinge of colour reddening the tips of his ears. “It’s no big deal, really. Just happy to help a friend.”

His eyes flicker towards yours in the candlelight and you offer him a soft smile of approval. The look does not go unnoticed by Jeonghan, a slow, sly grin spreading over his features as he drains the last of his wine. Conversation drifts, continuing to flow throughout the hour, as time melts away with the candle wax dripping onto the table cloth.

Once the food is polished off the group moves into the living room to play some games and to no one’s surprise, Seungcheol ends up winning most of the rounds of Jenga through sheer intimidation alone. Seulgi, however, does manage to best him at Uno which immediately results in a half-pouted plea for a one-on-one rematch. Vernon excuses himself to head to bed early for an audition in the morning and Jeonghan lingers behind to watch the match, betting on Seunghceol’s downfall much to the man’s chagrin.

You stay for a minute, watching the cards fly across the table with a vengeance, before your attention shifts to the sounds of running water and clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Mingyu took the revenge match as an opportunity to clean up from dinner and a pang of guilt bounds through you at the thought of him doing both the cooking and cleaning for the night entirely alone.

“Do you want a hand?” He’s hunched over the sink as you enter the kitchen and walk towards him–tall frame bending to accommodate the height of the counter, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a pot.

“You don’t have to,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder, “I can handle it.”

“Mingyu, you already cooked for everyone, the least you can do is let me dry them or something.”

He evaluates you for a moment, confirming that your offer isn’t born purely from pity, before nodding, “alright, these pots are clean already if you want to start there.”

You nod and grab a clean tea towel from the drawer next to the stove, moving to stand hip to hip with him at the sink. You work in companionable silence, nothing but the squeak of soap on porcelain and the distant complaints of Seungcheol as Seulgi hits him with another pick up 4 card.

You had never hosted any gatherings at your apartment with Wonwoo. Not that it was ever something he said he didn’t want, it just never came up. He tended to use his home as a retreat from the world and while you loved a good get together, you weren’t much of a host yourself, preferring instead to just join in when invited. Tonight was your first real, adult dinner party and while you hadn’t actually been much of an active participant in the planning of said party, it still felt like you had some ownership over it.

Now, standing here in tandem with Mingyu, cleaning up while your guest and other roommates were occupied with each other, you had to admit that there was something so comfortably domestic about the whole thing. You were surprised at how natural it felt, and you knew that if you let your mind amble down the path of no return, you would find yourself in this same position over and over again in your imagination. Scrubbing pots next to the man that had just fed you and your friends pasta.

“Did you have a good time?” Mingyu asks, sensing your thoughts and cutting them off at the head before they can get the best of you again.

You pick up the last pot in the stack, letting your hands continue working as you nod, a soft smile gracing your lips, “I did, yeah. It was really nice.”

“Good,” he sighs, letting a soft laugh out with his breath, “I’m glad. Wasn’t too much in the end, then?”

“No,” you reply, soothing the hint of insecurity in his question. “It was perfect. Sounds like Seulgi had a good time as well.”

“That’s a relief,” he says, dipping his hands back into the sink to finish wiping off the last few plates.

“Were you worried she wouldn’t?” you laugh, slightly incredulous at the lack of confidence coming from a man who just cooked you a Michelin star worthy dinner.

“No, I just,” he laughs again, hesitation creeping back into his voice. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

“I don’t think you could have made a bad one,” you mumble, wiping your hands off on the tea towel before hanging it on the cupboard hook to dry out.

“Well, that’s good,” Mingyu says, angling his body towards yours after pulling the plug in the sink drain, “because I…” he pauses, hesitant. You turn to face him, watching as he tugs the hot pink kitchen gloves off his hands and sets them down at the side of the sink. A faint blush is spreading out over his cheeks and for a second you wonder if he might not be feeling well.

“Mingyu–” you start–unsure whether to inquire about his well being or just to prompt him to continue. He raises his gaze to meet yours and you get the distinct feeling that he just made some sort of decision, come to some resolution within himself.

“Listen, I…” he starts and you maintain his gaze, heart picking up pace in your chest as your thoughts fly at a mile a minute trying to guess what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry if this is too forward or something, but the whole reason I went to all of this trouble tonight was for you.”

“Me?”

“I like you,” he blurts the words out without ceremony, stumbling over them as they tumble from his mouth. You stand still, a few feet away from him, in shock as the laughter from the living room fades to a distant murmur. “I think you’re beautiful, and funny, and smart and I would like to get to know you more and I know you’re still getting over a break up so I’m not trying to…pressure you or anything. And I know that maybe this is super awkward given that we live together and everything, but I just needed to tell you before I start to feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Oh.” It’s the only word you can manage. You feel like your brain is stuck on a loading screen as your mouth frantically tries to hit refresh. Nothing happens. You’ve lost connection.

“And if you don’t feel the same now, or ever, that’s okay. But I just needed to tell you that,” he sighs, “that I like you. And I’m very interested in you, and I get the feeling that you are also interested in me but if I’m wrong or it’s too soon then that’s okay. I can wait. Or not. Up to you. But…I like you.”

“I, umm…” You try. Try to form a coherent thought or sentence but nothing comes to you. Internally, you’re screaming at yourself. Isn’t this what you wanted? Haven’t you been pining after this man since you moved in here? What’s the hold up now?

All these questions, self chastisements, and more come spilling forward in your brain. A flood of confusion clouding all your judgement as you stand frozen in the middle of the kitchen in front of a man that is still waiting for you to reply to him. A man that has just laid all his cards out on the table for you to see. No tricks, no reversals, just ‘I like you’ in plain language. No guesswork. And still, all of your fears and worries and anxieties overwhelm you anyway.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he says, finally, giving up on waiting for your brain to kick in. “But, if you do…feel the same…you know where to find me. And if not then,” he laughs, attempting to clear away some of the awkwardness lingering in the air as a result of your inability to speak, “then I hope we can still be friends and I haven’t…made this too weird or anything.”

A loud uproar booms out from the living room–Jeonghan’s victorious laughter accompanied by Seungcheol’s cries of devastation. Another win for Seulgi. Mingyu glances behind you towards the sound before smiling and brushing past you, leaving you to pick up your jaw from the tile floor.

“I really have to go now,” you hear Seulgi say–closer behind you now as the games draw to a close. You snap to attention, shaking off your temporary paralysis, and turn to rejoin the group feeling like an entirely different person than when you had left them barely 30 minutes ago.

“One more game, all or nothing,” Seungcheol urges, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t think you can afford to lose another one,” she says with a smile, “and I really need to get back home, I’m opening in the morning. Thank you for the dinner, Mingyu, it was great. And I look forward to hearing from you friend.”

“Of course,” he replies, the picture of a good host. He hands her her coat from the hallway closet before wishing her a good night and disappearing towards his bedroom. After some prompting Jeonghan and Seungcheol follow suit.

Seulgi turns to you with a smile, but it falls from her face the second she sees the slightly dumbfounded expression still plastered on your own. “Are you ok?”

“M-me? Yeah, fine, I just…” you pause, wavering on the option of telling her what just happened but the second you get close to the confession you stall. You don’t want to. Not yet. Not until you’ve reckoned with it on your own. “I think I’m just coming down with a cold.”

“You have a terrible immune system,” she says, shaking her head. “Well, good night then. Call me tomorrow, hopefully you feel better after some rest.”

“I will, I will,” you nod, opening the door for her as she slips into her shoes. “Text me when you get home.”

She waves a final goodbye and you watch her walk towards the elevator before closing the door and twisting the lock. With a sigh you lean against the solid wood, grateful for the support as you continue to try to regather your wits. Mingyu’s confession replays, over and over like a highlight reel in your mind.

This is a good thing, isn’t it?

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

#caratlibrary #svthub #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #chm updates

243 notes · View notes

slutforth · 4 months ago

Text

2005!BILL KAULITZ X GN!READER

cw: none!! a little bit of a sad Bill but nothing intense (just fluff)

a/n: Hii guys, my first fic here on tumblr. Please give constructive criticism, but don't just be plain rude :) Also, send reqs!!

"Y/N..."

Bill said wearily, gripping onto your hand as you walked through the school corridors. You knew he hated this. The crowds that tried to follow you guys.

Luckily, you had a few security guards around you all, so the girls weren't grabbing at us, but that didn't help the screams and shouting that the girls behind you were making.

"Come on.." You mumbled to the rest of the band, quickly making your way to the bus so everyone could get rid of the crazy fan girls from school.

Although you loved being "Tokio Hotel" with the 4 other boys, sometimes it could be really tiring, and that was clear on everyone's faces when everyone slumped down into the cushioned seats of the little van.

You were in the middle seat, squished between Gustav and Bill, while Tom and Georg sat in the back, giggling and sharing sweets.

Today, you were all going to Bill and Tom's after school since they had the most space and best equipment, and usually, everyone would be excited about it, especially Bill.

However, as you listened to music through your wired earbuds, you glanced over and noticed Bill just sitting there quietly. No music, no talking... he was just staring out the window.

Your brows furrowed in both concern and confusion at his behaviour. He was never like this, and you couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the fans and fame.

Whatever it was, you weren't going to allow him to be sad and just zone out about it, so you tapped his shoulder, offering one of your earbuds to him.

"Wanna share?"

He looked over, quietly studying your features for a few minutes before weakly smiling and accepting the gesture. He leaned his head on your shoulder, silently thanking you for the comfort and distraction thay you were giving him.

Truth was, he was really caught up in his own thoughts. About everything. Whether that be from the band to whatever he had for breakfast, he had recently started over analysing every little thing and it was taking a toll on him.

He was always grateful for you, though. You always managed to make him feel better, even if you didn't realise it.

As the driver slowly came to a stop outside of the Twins' house, everyone got out the mini van and quickly went inside, but Bill just trailed behind.

You quickly realised this and walked slowly to catch up to him. You didn't mind staying back, as long as Bill wasn't moping around and subconsciously excluding himself. You held his hand, pulling him inside with a small smirk as you heard him giggle quietly.

Tom had already got a bag of Skittles, which Georg and Gustav were trying to fight him for, which brought a dumb girn to your face, watching the way the 3 boys fought stupidly.

You and Bill went and sat in the little 'music studio' the twins' mom had set up for you guys, where in reality it was just their garage with your instruments in.

When you and Bill sat down on the soft cushions of the couch, you looked over to him, again noticing his slightly distant expression. And seeing as none of the boys were around, you decided to check up on him.

"Hey, uh.. are you okay? You seem a bit.. I don't know.. off?" You said cautiously, making sure not too offended him if he was defensive about his emotions.

"Mm... yeah, yeah, it's fine, I'm just tired, so I keep overthinking stuff.." He said softly, looking at you as he spoke. Sometimes, he needed help, even if he didn't want it, but you always seemed to know how to help.

You gave him a sympathetic look. You knew how he got in his head sometimes, so you gently pulled him close. He took you by surprise when he pushed you down slightly onto the couch, resting his head on your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You immediately started to play with his hair, twirling the short black strands around your fingers. You always loved to play with his hair, just loving the texture and the way it felt under your hands.

Bill relaxed against you as you messed with his hair. He always found it so comforting when you did that. The poor boy really really loved it.

So much so that he slowly started to fall asleep, his head still on your stomach as he relaxed more and more. The sensations of his hair being played with and the warmth of your body lulled him into a peaceful sleep.

"I guess practice is going to be delayed..."

#bill kaulitz #tokiohotel #bill kaulitz smut #georg listing #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines #gustav schäfer

115 notes · View notes

daintyshu · 6 months ago

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

xv. calm (1.2k written)

note: italicised speeches are spoken in english! cw: kys jokes

you shake your head at the text sunghoon just sent. always so chaotic hoon. you two were done with dinner and you had been waiting outside the restaurant as the boy needed the bathroom. you remembered seeing a record store on your way up and you still had some time to kill before the movie, so you decided to go take a look.

upon entering the shop, the clerk greets you cheerfully as you nodded politely at her. you slowly walk through the aisles, looking carefully for what you were looking for.

recently, your brother had gotten a vintage record player for fun when he didn't have any vinyl records so you decided to go get some today since you were already here.

"oh my god!" you exclaimed to yourself. realising how loud that probably was, you looked around the store, relieved to see it was practically empty except for the clerk who giggled at you. "they have them here!" you excitedly brisk-walk to corner of the store where a vinyl record had caught your eye.

a 5 seconds of summer vinyl record.

it was of one of your favourite album of them so you were quick to recognise it. you picked it up, eyes widening as you realised the whole section was filled with other 5sos vinyl records.

is this heaven? you thought to yourself.

after a while, you laid down two of your favourites; calm and youngblood, staring at them in a daze as you tried to decide which one to get. you would've taken all the 5sos records the store had, if only you weren't a fresh graduate who was only working part-time. why do vinyl records sell at such high prices anyway.

"you should take calm," a voice suggested and naturally you answered back. "right? but youngblood's so good too,"

it took you a few seconds to realise you had gone to the mall with sunghoon and not jay, so you shouldn't be having an english conversation with your friend right now.

you turned to the voice almost immediately, bowing slightly. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. i thought i was talking to my friend," you apologised, looking up at the owner of the voice. your head tilted in recognition upon seeing his face.

"oh? you're one of riki's friends right? jay?" also often referred to in your head as the cute vanilla latte boy. you also remembered his name being similar to that of your best friend's. "jake," he corrects you and you nod sheepishly. "ah right, jake, sorry."

"it's fine, you speak english?" he questions curiously. you were caught off guard at the seamless switch between korean and english, forgetting that he was the one who had suggested which record you should get. "oh yeah, i spent a few years in the states. you? you're korean?" you question back.

"yeah my family moved to australia when i was young but we moved back here after middle school," so he's australian. that explains the charming accent. "ahh, that's around the same time i did too. so, you listen to 5sos?"

"i do, yeah!" the boy answers excitedly and you chuckle at this. he resembled an excited puppy. "what's your favourite song?" you ask, looking back down at the two records in your hands, still deciding.

"easy, old me," he answers without skipping a beat. "oh that's a good one! it's one of my favourites too,“ you agree wholeheartedly with jake. "one of? so what's your favourite one then?"

"i have so many though.." you trail off thoughtfully, a little pout forming on your lips subconsciously.

"but if i had to pick one...maybe kill my time?" you tilt your head a little, unsure whether or not it really is your favourite song from them.

jake simply chuckles. you were just so adorable that he had to hold himself back from reacting in a way that would make you think he's weird.

"oh yeah, yeah, that's a good one too. you should get calm then, kill my time would sound so good through a record player," he suggests. "i know! but ghost of you would sound so good too," you tell him, still unable to decide which to get despite the boy giving his opinion.

"well in that case, why not just get both then?"

you purse your lips, giving him an expressionless stare. "i would if i could afford both, bro. wouldn't be standing here for the past five minutes trynna decide between either," you tell him honestly.

jake might be overreacting but he thinks he can hear his heart smashing into tiny pieces when you called him bro. he didn't know whether to feel honoured that you were comfortable enough to refer to him as so or be heartbroken that he just got bro-zoned.

"oh, yeah, didn't think of that. well, if yo—" he didn't manage to complete whatever he wanted to say when he got interrupted by an excited voice.

"noona!" the two of you turned to the source of the voice, you bracing yourself when you got tackled into a side hug by a much taller boy. "oh, riki! what are you doing here?"

"i'm here with jake hyung!" he points to the boy next to you. "we're gonna go see kung fu panda at 6," he explains, looking at his watch which prompts you to look at your own. it's 10 minutes to 6 and sunghoon still hasn't come up yet.

"hey, i'm watching that with my friend too! we should go up together!" you told the younger boy. and as if on cue, the door opens and said friend enters the store, you waving him over.

"hoonie! i don't think you've met riki. sunghoon, this is riki and jake," you point at your younger friend and his friend—who's also your new friend, considering how easy it was to have a conversation with him. "riki, jake, this is sunghoon,"

the three boys greet each other in a friendly manner before sunghoon turns to you. "ready to go?"

"oh, yeah i just...i'm gonna go pay for this first," you took one last look at the youngblood vinyl record in your left hand, putting it back where it was. you clutched the other vinyl to your chest, glancing over at the australian, smiling softly at him as you walked past the group and to the cashier.

jake bites his lip to prevent a smile from growing. you took his suggestion.

even though you bro-zoned him earlier, being at the receiving end of that cute smile from you could wipe away any disappointment he even felt in the first place. you just had that effect on him.

this was his first time interacting with you for as long as he did and seeing you up close. you were just so pretty he couldn't believe he even managed to talk to you without tripping over his words. conversation with you just flowed naturally despite how short it actually was.

he wonders what it would be to sit down and have a long talk with you. he wonders what it would be like to be in your circle of friends.

and as he absentmindedly nods to everything riki is yapping about to him, he watches your friend talk to you with the most loving gaze in his eyes. he wonders if that's what he would look like when he's finally in your life. maybe one day. maybe soon.

prev | m.list | next

synopsis. in which you work at odd atelier cafe and can only make hearts in your lattes, causing a certain boy to misunderstand your intentions..... then he brings his friends and chaos ensues.

taglist (open): @semisemirin1i82 @txtmetonight @ilyjxdz @miniature-tragedy @n1k1mura @t00miee @manooffline @aerivrs @saranghaohoshi @woninluv @moony-mari @nctsshoes2 @sunghoonnsupremacy @mnxnii @lisaswifey @enhy4me2 @en-chantedtomeetyou @enhypenlovre (strikethrough means unable to tag!)

#enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enha smau #enha x reader #enha x reader smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen texts #enhypen x reader smau #enhypen #enha

38 notes · View notes

noowayybroo · 2 years ago

Text

HC again - Leon gets some piercings for you because he wants you to swoon

Warnings: I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LEON OR RE, PLS FORGIB, MAINLY SWEET RE2 LEON BUT APPLY WHEREVER YOU WANT, MENTION OF NEEDLES, PIERCINGS, STABBIN' but not graphic and not really painful, real soft Leon, IMPLIES READER IS PIERCED. BIT NSFW IT'S A BIT SUGGESTIVE I'M SORRY

Reader age, relationship, gender etc unspecified so have fun!!!

Leon stares at you from his chair, within arms reach but as if he were tens of meters away. He's gripping his arm-rests firmly but clearly trying to look cool as he looks around and back at you, making large head motions that sway his fringe around dramatically.

This is how I usually act, right? He thinks, slightly desperate as he smirks and nods at you, giving you his best 'I'm so calm, cool and collected right now', but harbouring on rizz face.

His right leg bounces up and down quickly but not too harshly but this is also just a sign of his general anxiety.

Leon had no idea what piercings you'd liked on a guy. In fact, he'd told you that he just wanted to get a piercing, and wondered if you'd like to come along. Convenient. He thought of getting ear-piercings but didn't want to be too boring. Then he thought you might like a tongue or lip piercing. He shivered at the thought of how you might pay attention to them-...

Aha! That was it! A septum piercing! All the cool boys had one, he thought, and he noticed how you seemed to always notice them. Besides if either of you didn't like it, he could just flip it up and hide it. So that's what Leon was gonna do today, he was gonna get his nose stabbed, because he wanted you to find him hot... A subtle gesture that you definitely wouldn't correlate to him liking you, no less.

Leon was smiling at you and making small-talk until the piercer appeared, preparing his tools and explaining the procedure to Leon. Suddenly his voice was dry and hoarse. His replies were curt, one worded and stuttered, "Y-yeah?" "Uh-uhuh" "S-sure, sure y-yep..."

His leg shook a little more wildly and his hands tightened their grip on the leather arm-rests, causing the material to bulge between his whitened digits. The piercer, being a little worried, checked Leon was ok, to which Leon, trying to act cool assured him that he's 'been through much worse' and is "SO READY, man!".

After a lot of convincing, as the needle approached Leon's nose, his hand quickly shot out, grabbing yours tightly. You could feel how sweaty and clammy he'd been. And was he... shaking? Poor thing. He was terrified. You watched as his wide eyes relaxed a little at holding onto you, especially as you held him back.

He quickly realises he's not being 'cool enough' and takes a deep breath, narrows his eyes and stares forward. Leon's hopefulness is clouding his vision. The game is over, you know he's a terrified little puppy, and an adorable one at that, but he's trying so hard to be brave, just for you, so you make a note to humour him after as you stroke his hand reassuringly, trying not to giggle.

After Leon is pierced and a nice ring sits in his nose, his hand jumps up fast (almost hitting a disgruntled piercer) to wipe up a stray tear welling in his puppydog manly eye and glares at you as if trying to will your subconscious gently into forgetting what it saw. He swallows thickly and folds his arms, macho.

"You were so brave in there, I'd have been balling my eyes out", you lie generously to him on your walk home. Part of him wonders if that's the truth as he gazes at all of the jewellery on you that highlights just how stunning and flawless he sees you as every day, but the majority of his shy ego lets his chest well up and his face redden at your comment. He very nearly accidentally lets the words "anything for you" slip out, but substitutes it for a shaky chuckle, still in some bruising pain.

For the next few weeks, months even, Leon LOVES to hear you compliment his new decoration. He points to it jokingly and uses it to 'win' arguments about him being a wuss, him not like piercings, him not being a bad boy or living on the wild side, etc.

He loves having this similarity to you, and wholeheartedly believes it's brought you both closer. He loves using it to include himself with you. "Us metal heads" and "us absolute rebels" are some of the very cheesy, very cringe things he likes to say whilst pulling you close into a strong, brief embrace with one arm.

He's thinking about getting more piercings. Especially some of the ones you have and like because he thinks you're absolutely smokin' with them, so it might help him. He's also thinking about that tongue one for... reasons. He also thinks sometimes about any hidden ones you might have... that he might be able to tempt you into showing him with the excuse that 'he has one so it's ok!' Or the reasoning that he's curious and wondering what looks good. Cheeky boy!

Ultimately, Leon respects you so much more now, if that were even possible. That was such a small piercing he got yet it hurt like a bitch. You, in his eyes, were an absolute beast. He loved you so, so much.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #re leon #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy hc #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil headcanons

184 notes · View notes

whxre-bxby · 1 year ago

Note

The recoms x reader with competitions sounds hilarious

I can totally imagine them having weird ass competitions Lol

Can't wait for that one

Yeah, this has been in my inbox for ages so glad to finally post it

"Pecking Order"

f. Y/N Recom x Recom Quaritch /Lyle /Prager /Mansk /Brown /Lopez /Ja /Walker /Zdinarsk

Masterlist

Summary: Being a recom soldier is difficult. Especially when dealing with the new instincts and needs the body requires. To keep his team sane, Quaritch comes up with a solution in which Y/N is shared with everyone.

Warnings: indication of smut, little bit of fluff, depressing ending, outrageously minimal wordcount (my apologies)

Word Count: 1590

(I'm sorry about how short this is, but I'm really struggling to write at the moment because I have so much going on)

(Once again I am pretending that Warren and Zhang don’t exist, I am sorry to those who like them but I really don’t.)

Being on Pandora is weird. It’s a whole new planet. But what’s even weirder is being on a foreign planet in a foreign body. Another human’s body wouldn’t have been so bad, but no, you’re blue now. You and your squad along with your Colonel have all permanently become Avatars. It takes a lot of time to get used to the changes. It seems like you discover something new about yourselves every day. Luckily it’s been almost two months since you woke up from criyo.

It seems as though the foreign environment and new feelings have almost strengthened the connection of the team. You all got along when you had to before but now you feel like they are all close friends to you.

One evening at dinner, Lyle had brought up how most soldiers used to have fuck-buddies to get through life on Pandora. Most of the team did back then too. Now, it seemed as though no one had even thought about it. You and the others didn’t exactly know how everything worked so the subject was ignored and brushed off. But it was definitely not forgotten.

It had quite literally been years since any one of you had experienced any form of sexual pleasure. That was suppressed in the beginning but the Avatar’s body language was more visible than a human's and it was more difficult to control and suppress emotions.

At one point in time, all recoms including you were constantly tense and distracted. No one was able to fully focus during training anymore and Quaritch noticed this. He himself had the same problem and he knew he couldn’t send his squad out into the forest like this. You would die on the first day out. The Colonel would rather solve the problem in any way possible than explain what is happening to the General. The recoms are meant to be reliable and professional. What is happening to all of you is getting in the way of both those things.

The Colonel forced everyone to attend his ‘emergency meeting’ even though you all had the rest of the day off. The atmosphere was thick and you found it hard to breathe even though the room was ventilated.

Quaritch had made you all sit down to listen to him but your attention was barely on his words. Instead, you were subconsciously studying Mansk. He was calmly fiddling with his fingers but you noticed how strained his arms were and how far back he had his ears pinned. Nobody was relaxed.

You also realised earlier today that you basically lost control of your tail. It’s just doing its own thing at this point and there is nothing you can do about it.

The Colonel started explaining his recent observations of our behaviour and you immediately thought you were all being scolded. But you were wrong.

“The only option I see te’ help us with our probem,” Quaritch says, inhaling deeply as if he were not sure how we would react. “Is to fuck it out.”

Lyle snorts, thinking his superior is joking but Quaritch is dead serious.

“Suggest otherwise, Corporal Wainfleet.” The Colonel says, sternly glaring at Lyle. I stare at both of them with wide eyes. No way is he suggesting this.

There was some kind of argumentative discussion between the two but you have tuned out, blankly staring past Quaritch and at the wall behind him. This room had no windows, so no one could see or come in here because it was a recom only area.

“Y/N.” Quaritch’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. You glance up at him while Mansk shifts his gaze to you.

“You’re with me.” he orders, watching your surprised yet innocent face process the information.

“No fuckin’ way.” Mansk interrupts. You stare at him now, completely surprised by his words. Mansk never objects or argues with people. He’s the best soldier when it comes to following orders. This is out of character for him.

Quaritch doesn’t seem pleased by his words but once again to your surprise, he doesn’t put Mansk in his place. Since this isn’t a professional environment anymore, it seems as though the ranks between the soldiers don’t play such a big role.

A few other recoms back Mansk up, not liking that the Colonel wants you to himself which still baffles you.

But it turns out, they all seemed to have taken a liking to you. Most soldiers were ignorant and self-centred. You weren’t. You seemed almost naturally submissive to the others, especially as an Avatar. Something about you, perhaps your scent of strong pheromones, drew them to you.

So that evening, while you were being eyed hungrily by every single one of your teammates, they made a fair plan. In their free time, they would hold weekly competitions to figure out the order of who gets the most time with you. You were included and nothing was forced on you.

Since life in the RDA was really dull and colourless, these planned activities and competitions amused everyone.

To keep it fair, it wouldn’t always be the same task to win, it would be changed so that everyone gets a chance. Otherwise, it would always be the same people with you.

The first and most obvious challenge was a physical strength competition. This one lasted a long time and it went all the way from who could hold themselves in a plank position the longest to wrestling in the gym. In the third week, things took a drastic turn when Lyle decided to time himself to see how fast he could make you cum. Any technique was allowed and on the same day, everyone had their turn which had you not only fucked out but completely dumb and tired for the rest of the day.

Z-Dog won that one and right behind her was Walker. Lopez was next and all three of them took great pride in it. It seems as though oral sex was the way to go.

Quaritch was always near the top and most often the first on the leaderboard in the physical challenges. Which meant you spent a lot of time in his room, which you honestly didn’t mind. While he was a brutal and cold-hearted man on the outside, he took care of you behind closed doors. Miles picked you up and walked you to his room when it suited the two of you. There, he took his time with you. Nothing was ever rushed because he wanted you to enjoy it as much as he did.

Let’s just say, you always slept well after having sex with him and he took care of you in his bed, letting you sleep in it. You always left his room feeling satisfied in the morning. Lyle, Mansk and Prager were also usually quite at the top so when you and Quaritch would finish, they would get a day of the week each to spend with you. Sometimes, you had a few of them at once.

Normally, you would feel bad about yourself for sleeping around so much but they made you feel like you are all that matters to them, so you rarely worried about that. You didn’t feel used, you felt loved. Something you had been deprived of since you left Earth years ago.

Once everyone had a turn and the feral instincts calmed down, the competitions continued but they became more funny than serious. At this point, you were all just doing it for shits and giggles because there really wasn’t anything else to do. Except for finding Sully but that mission wasn’t ready yet.

So the subjects of the competitions started to change along with everyone’s behaviour. The lust has been brought under control so you weren’t as tired anymore and only occasionally had sex with the recoms that needed it.

A cooking competition was held which turned into a completely messy disaster. Mansk won it by far but at what cost? The oven had exploded because Ja refused to take the food out, claiming it wasn’t done yet. Lopez put metal in the microwave which really damaged the machine and you can’t quite remember how it happened but Z-Dog and Walker had accidentally set a curtain on fire. Instead of trying to put out the flames, they got angry because “What’s a fuckin’ curtain doin’ in the kitchen anyway?!”.

Another one was who could breathe oxygen for the longest because we were now adapted to Pandora’s air. Prager won. He said he used to dive regularly back on Earth so he was able to hold his breath for a long time.

Brown and Walker almost lost consciousness.

It kept going on and on like this because it was all the fun you had. Even when the mission started, the challenges were who could tame their Ikran the fastest, who could guess the Na’vi words correctly and who could properly land a fall from the Ikran. You started taking part in the competitions just for your own fun. It really had brought everyone together but eventually, all good things must come to an end.

When you started encountering Sully, you began losing soldiers and once some teammates were gone, no one was feeling good enough to even suggest anything fun. From that point of, you all just wanted to finish your mission and end this.

Enjoy the bunnies instead of the abrupt ending :)

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @jatwow @numarusworld @number1gal @ikranwings

119 notes · View notes

slaymybreathaway · 1 year ago

Text

Mixtape (Charlie Conway x reader)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 844

Masterlist

I love music, I always have and always will. I'm the type of chick to have multiple songs circling around my head a day. In fact, one of my worst subconscious habits is that I always start singing these songs under my breath. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop.

One of today's songs was 'Killing me softly with his sing song' by the Fugees. I sang it quietly during a History test my last class of the day.

When the bell rang, I got on my bike and cycled straight home. I was going on a date with my boyfriend Charlie at 5.

It was our anniversary and all he told me was to wear something nice and to meet him at his apartment.

♡

When I knocked on the apartment door, it was Casey who answered.

"Y/n, come in honey," she beckons me in and gives me a hug. I love Casey Conway like a second mother.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen.

I followed her in, "No thanks, I should probably just wait for Charlie."

"I think he's in his room if you want to go in to him," she started, as I walked away she started talking again "By the way, how's he treating you, love?"

I smiled and turned around "Like a princess."

Casey nodded her head and I walked down the hall to Charlie's room. The door was half open so I didn't bother to knock.

Charlie wasn't there but his room was super messy. I stepped through the piles of clothes on the floor to his desk because he left the lamp on. I switched it off but as I did, something on the desk caught my eye.

It was a blue note book labelled "Y/n <3". My conscience was telling me that I shouldn't open it but come on, it LITERALLY has my name written all over it.

When I flipped open the cover it had Day 1: Friday 31st of May 1996 and a list of songs. I was super confused as I flipped through the notebook because each page had a similar layout, but different songs and consecutive days.

It wasn't till the page with today's date that it finally clicked. Charlie has been taking notes of my 'songs of the day' for the past couple weeks.

My stomach was infested with butterflies at the thought that he pays attention to my constant mind radio, let alone takes notes on it.

I was so caught up in this realisation that I didn't even noticed Charlie coming into his bedroom.

"Oh no, you found it," Charlie put his head in his hands.

He looked really cute, I rarely get to see him out of his jersey. He was wearing (insert description of what he wore in dinner scene with varsity in D3)

"Yeah I found it and I have to say, you'd make a good stalker love," I said and walked over to him. I kissed him on the cheek and when I looked at him again, he looked really confused.

"So you're not curious as to why I've been making notes of the songs you sing?" he asked.

I laughed a little before replying "I am extremely curious. I just figured that you would eventually explain yourself so I didn't waste my breath asking," I smiled at him.

Charlie looked down and shook his head "Why are you always right?".

♡

Charlie brought me to a really nice restaurant and we ordered our food.

"Still curious about the notebook?" He asked.

I nodded my head so vigorously that I almost got whiplash. He laughed and pulled something from his pocket. It was a wrapped rectangle shape.

When I opened it, I discovered that it was a tape with the title "mixtape for my love <3"

"Aw Charlie, you have no idea how much this means to me. I honestly don't deserve you at all," I looked up from the present and Charlie was looking at me with a big sappy grin on his face.

"That's where you got it completely backwards, love," he said reached for my hand across the table.

"Oh I almost forgot, here's your present," I gave him the gift bag I had on the chair beside me.

"Oh my god, y/n. I love it," he said as he took out the jacked I got made for him.

It was in the Varsity style beacause I know he doesn't like the JV ones the school has. It is green and has the the ducks symbol on the back with 'Conway' at the top. It has the ducks colours on the collar and cuffs.

He tried the jacket on and it fit perfectly.

"Y/n, I love you more than you could ever know," He said with a dazzling look in his eyes.

I looked up at him, said it back and smiled. I can't believe I'm the girl who pulled Charlie Conway.

#charlie conway x reader #charlie conway #charlie mighty ducks #the mighty ducks #mighty ducks #ice hockey #hockey #joshua jackson x reader #joshua jackson #emilio estevez #Spotify

76 notes · View notes

scullysexual · 11 months ago

Text

Summer Tryst

It was meant to be a fling, something that meant nothing to either of them, an opportunity to get over exes, they didn't expect anything to come of it.

Welcome to the original A Baby Is Forever idea :)

ao3 | @today-in-fic

Mulder stands dumbstruck in Phoebe’s bedroom barely processing the scene he’s just walked into. Phoebe in bed with another boy- one from the pool, one they both work with- Matt or Max or something like that, Mulder doesn’t actually know, all he does know is he’s been played for a fool.

His stomach twists uncomfortably, he wants to leave and pretend he never saw it but he wants to confront her. The only problem he was never very good at that and she knows it so rather than displaying anger he just stands there, body sagging, sadness ripping through him.

“How long?” he asks he asks, looking at the carpet.

“A couple of weeks,” Phoebe answers cooly. She doesn’t seem affected by his presence. Her new toy, however, stares warily at them both, his worried gaze flicking between them.

“A couple of weeks…” Mulder mutters. Not a night a go was she laying naked in his bed. How many others new, he wonders. Her friends most definitely. The other girls at the pool? No, Phoebe said she hated them all. And what about the other boys, did they know? Were they laughing at him behind his back. Spooky can’t even keep his girlfriend. He clenches his fist in anger and sets his jaw.

Phoebe turns to the other boy, smiling. “Maxwell, be a dear a leave, won’t you?”

Maxwell’s eyes widen. “But I, uh…My clothes are- I’m, uh…”

Her smile unwavering. “Now,” she demands her voice like venom it makes Mulder cringe.

The boy shifts, clearly uncomfortable but pushes the covers away, exposing his naked body. Mulder pays no attention, he keeps his eyes on Phoebe as Maxwell clambers into his clothes. Once dressed, the other boys looks awkwardly at the two of them.

“Guess I’ll see you at the pool later…?”

“Yeah,” Mulder says still not looking at him.

“I’ll call you and arrange our next meeting,” says Phoebe giving Maxwell a wave.

Maxwell leaves and once he’s gone Phoebe groans.

“Pitiful little thing,” she says climbing out of the bed herself. She too his naked and Mulder tries to avert his eyes, something which Phoebe grins at before going over to the chair to retrieve her robe. “I really don’t know why I bothered giving him the time of day but I guess I’m stuck with him now. For now anyway until something better comes along.”

Like something better comes along…Is that all that he was, Mulder wonders.

“So that’s it? We’re over?”

Phoebe lights a cigarette, breathing it in before puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“Oh Fox, we’ve been over for months. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

It had been five hours since he’d had that conversation, five hours since he’d walked in on the scene. Maxwell smiled awkwardly at him then spent the rest of his shift avoiding Mulder like the plague. Phoebe made no effort. She laughed loudly and obnoxiously, making her presence known to him whenever she could. Mulder keeps his gaze away from her, focuses on the kids that play in the pool. Phoebe can play with her new toy, Mulder was done with her and her games. He was a free man now, single, could hook up with any girl he liked and it didn’t have to mean anything.

Subconsciously he starts scanning the pool not really realising what he was doing until his eyes fall on her, on the way the sunlight catches her red hair. Redheads were never his type but there was something about her, the way she smiled, laughing with her friends. He’d never seen her before, she was probably just a tourist…

Even better, he thinks.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“Are you packed yet?” Ellen asks her pulling her suitcase- packed- out of her wardrobe.

Dana lays on her friend’s bed, the magazine she was just flicking through suddenly becoming interesting as she keeps her eyes down.

“I’m not going,” she says casually.

“What?”

“I’m not going. I don’t want to.”

“Dana,” Ellen enunciates. “We have been planning this trip for 3 years. What do you mean you’re not going?”

Dana sighs, tossing the magazine aside. “Meaning I don’t want to go. I’m not interested.”

Ellen groans. “If this is about Ethan—”

“No, it’s—”

“Because you need to forget about him. I told you he was useless and boring and dull and plain and—”

“Okay!” Dana interrupts. “I got it.”

Ellen sighs, sitting down beside her friend. Dana shifts to commodate her. “You need this trip,” Ellen says seriously. “To forget about Ethan. And who knows, we go, you stop thinking about Ethan, meet someone, a really hot lifeguard perhaps…?” Ellen grins as Dana blushes.

“I doubt that will happen.”

“Well it won’t if you don’t go.”

Dana thinks on it. They have been planning this for 3 years. A trip away before college started, maybe even the last time they’ll spend together. It was unfair to take that away from Ellen and besides, what else would she do here without her best friend- run around after Missy? No thanks.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Ellen squeals.

“On one condition…”

“Yes?”

“You don’t throw people at me.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“What about him?”

Ellen’s voice cuts through the sounds of splashing.

“Or him? He’s kind of cute- Actually, no…I don’t like his side profile. Oh, what about him?”

“Ellen—” Dana says forcefully. “I told you not to.”

“Sorry,” apologises Ellen though she doesn’t sound like she really means it. “You’re just not making much of an effort to look yourself.”

“Maybe because I’m not interested. And not because of Ethan. I haven’t actually thought about him till now.”

Ellen frowns at her. “You could have anybody you wanted, you know,” she says. For all of Ellen’s teasing she was being dead serious now.

“There’s nobody here that I want,” says Dana to which Ellen rolls her eyes. Dana moves off the sun lounger. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want one?”

“Coke. Please.”

She hadn’t really wanted a drink, it was really just an excuse to get away. Sharing a room, spending all their time together, there just wasn’t enough time away. Dana loved Ellen but sometimes she just needed her own space.

She joins the queue, what little there is of one, there was only one person in front of her but he seemed to be busy engaging in a conversation with the server.

“Usual, Mulder?” another guy from inside the bar asks.

“Yeah. And a packet of sunflower seeds.”

Dana waits, picking at her cuticles while the server and this…Mulder seemed in no hurry to move along.

“So you and Phoebe, eh? Must’ve been a tough one walking into,” says the server.

“You know about that?” Mulder asks, he seems self- conscious about it.

“Well, yeah…It was pretty obvious,” says the server. “Normally you can’t keep the two of you away from each other.”

Dana coughs attempting to alert the two boys to her presence but they carry on ignoring her.

“Max seems chuffed, though,” the server continues. “Grinning like an idiot. Everyday I want to punch his stupid little—”

“Can I be served please?”

Both Mulder and the server turn to look at Dana. Mulder stares at her for a moment, blinking madly before he seems to realise and moves out of the way.

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” Dana tries to keep an air of annoyance and disinterest but truthfully it was difficult. Mulder was very attractive to say the least and she knew if Ellen was with her she would be jumping up and down with excitement.

But Ellen wasn’t here and as attractive as he was he’d just stood in her way for what felt like an hour. He was just another asshole man she didn’t need right now.

She hands her drink order to the server who gets on it immediately. As she waits the other guy tosses Mulder his bag of sunflower seeds.

“Sorry it took so long, had to go to the stockroom. You’re going through these bags like they’re gonna run out, Mulder,” says the other guy.

“Yeah well, gives me something to do while I just stand there.” His drink and sunflower seeds in his hands, Mulder bids goodbye to his friends. “I gotta get back to my post. Catch you guys later.”

Dana watches him go out the corner of her eye and when he’s far enough away Dana twists completely to see where he’s going. Whenever his post was Dana had the brief thought to go there.

“Drinks are done,” says the server, giving her a knowing look and a grin. As she reaches to grab them, the server says, “He’s single. I can put in a good word for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Dana but her flush says otherwise. The server just continues to grin.

Back at the sun loungers, Dana hands Ellen her drink.

“You won’t guess who just walked past our chairs,” says Ellen grinning.

Dana would bet her entire college fund it was Mulder.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Little Miss Prissy Pants seemed to be following him.

Mulder grins, breaking a sunflower seed between his mouth and let’s his tongue play with the seed inside. If only he could get away from his post for more than 10 minutes, he’d be able to go down there and chat with her, maybe find out where she was staying…

He looks around. His post wasn’t exactly important, there were enough lifeguards around if something was to go wrong, he was just an extra pair of eyes. But Paul would have him strung up outside if he played truant one more time. Goddamn Phoebe��s fault, always messing things up for him.

At that moment he spots a very useful person strolling past.

“Langly!”

Langly stops and looks his way. Mulder waves him over.

“Cover my post for me.”

“Nah man, I’m just about to go on break.”

“Take it later,” says Mulder. “I gotta do this one thing.”

“If it’s to go fuck Phoebe—”

“No, dipshit. Just stay here for a minute.” Mulder’s already going giving Langly no choice but to stay.

“You owe me, man!” Langly tells.

Yeah, whatever Mulder thinks as he makes his way towards the pool. This was his chance.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“Shit Dana, don’t look now but look now,” says Ellen. She does her best to look casual leaning up against the side of the pool.

Dana looks to see what’s got her all excited. Her stomach flips as she sees Mulder coming towards them. She looks at her friend who gives her an encouraging nod.

“So we seemed to get off on the wrong foot earlier,” says Mulder, plonking himself down on the side, his feet sliding into the pool.

“Really?” says Dana. She tries to remain casual but her stomach is still doing somersaults. God, what was it about this boy that had her like this.

“Firstly, I want to apologise. If I’d known you were standing behind me I’d have moved sooner.”

“Okay.”

“And secondly…Can I buy you the drink this time?”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He takes her over to the alcohol section. Drinking on the job is sure to get him fired but if he’s careful, remains unseen, and doesn’t drink too much, he should get away with it.

However, as they approach the alcohol side, she lingers near the entrance.

“I’m, uh…only 19,” she says bashfully.

Mulder shrugs. “I won’t say anything if you don’t.” He holds out a chair for her. “You’ve drank before, haven’t you?”

Once, a few months ago, at somebody’s birthday party, the night Ethan broke up with her.

“Er…yeah.”

He holds the drinks menu out to her.

“Pick whatever you want.”

She goes with some fruity sounding thing that is more juice than alcohol but he doesn’t push it. He himself just goes for plain orange and vodka.

“So do I get to know your name?” he asks.

“Uh…Dana.”

Dana. He likes that, likes the way it sounds, wonders what it would sound like to moan…

“I’m Mulder,” he says, bringing his thoughts away from there. Not yet…

“Mulder?” she says with an air of confusion. He stops himself from thinking about what it’d sound like being moaned by her. “Is that like a—”

“My surname. My first name…Well, I don’t like it too much.” He has no issues ignoring the way Fox is moaned.

“Mulder…” she says again, more to herself, then her lips wrap around the tip of her straw and Mulder swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He takes a sip of his own drink which burns his dry throat but he swallows it down anyway.

“So…” he says putting his drink down. Her eyes look towards him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Dana pulls her away from her drink. “I’m on a trip with my friend. We’ve had it planned for 3 years.”

Mulder’s eyebrows quirk upwards. “3 years? For this place?”

She shrugs bashfully. “Heard good things about it.” She frowns then, thinking. “I almost didn’t go.”

Mulder feels his heart deflate at that. He almost missed his chance on meeting her.

“Really? Why?”

“Well…I broke up with my boyfriend. A month ago. I guess I just wasn’t in the mood anymore.”

Well shit…broken hearts where everywhere.

“Do you miss him?” Mulder asks.

“A little, yeah.”

He thinks about Phoebe. That conversation was 7 hours ago, he was still angry, but they’d been together for a year, spent every day together. Frohike was right earlier, they couldn’t keep away. Mulder is suddenly aware of how empty he feels, like something is missing.

“Well, if it helps, I too just broke up with my girlfriend,” he says.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Turns out she’s been cheating on me. I found them in bed together about…7 hours ago.”

“That’s really shitty of her.”

“Yeah…” Mulder nods. He watches her then, the way she takes another sip, looking at him. He feels himself harden some more at the sight. Was she doing it deliberately?

“You know…” He reaches a hand out to grasp hers. “I think we both have some shitty exes to flush out of our system.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Mulder takes her hand fully, pulling her out of her chair.

“Follow me.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The place Mulder takes her two is nothing more than some abandoned shack. Old equipment laying around, a broken computer box, just a place to store junk really.

What didn’t fit however, was an old mattress on the floor. Dana stares at it with disgust.

“Here? Really?”

Mulder grins. “The place gets cleaned daily. I promise.”

He brushes past her to shove a chair beneath the the door handle, creating a makeshift lock for anybody who would try to get in from outside.

Whatever sexual tendencies Dana had been experiencing the entire time had been dampened by this set up.

“You’re not exactly wooing me with this, you know.”

She thought he would take her somewhere nicer.

“Oh you are a hard one to please,” he says, sliding up towards her. His hands are placed either side of her head, locking her in, encasing her against the wall and his body. They were so close that if she just forgot about their setting, focused on him- his eyes, his face, his mouth, then maybe she could give in.

“Maybe I could woo you with this.” His lips finds hers. His tongue prods at her lips, prying them open, not forcefully just…insistent. Dana lets him in, opening her mouth, deepening the kiss. His tongue plays with hers and she’s reminded of the sunflower seeds he brought earlier, how many packets he goes through. Her clit buzzes to life at the thought of that tongue in other places and she moans into the kiss.

Mulder appears to be spurred on by it. His hands touch her waist, searing her exposed skin as they continue to travel down over her ass, wrapping around her thighs.

She grunts, breaking the kiss, as he hoists her up, trapping her against the wall and his body. He pushes his groin into her centre, lips finding her neck. Dana’s head falls back as her eyes roll to the back to her head. She was so close but she didn’t want to come like this, she needed to feel him.

Her hands find the waistband of his shorts and she starts to tug at them. Mulder quickly grasps what she’s trying to do and leans back slightly, creating enough space between them to push his shorts all the way down.

His cock springs free and Dana moans at the sight. Her hands wrap around him immediately, pumping him slowly. Mulder grunts, thrusting into her hand and he pulls aside her bikini bottoms, fingers separating her lips.

The first touch of his fingers on her clit has her crying out his name. He litters smaller, open mouthed kisses along the top of her chest and base of her neck as she tightens her grip on his hair.

It felt wonderful and amazing and nothing like she’d ever experienced before but she wanted more. Dana pulls her hand away from him, tugging at his hair.

“You sure?” he asks and Dana nods.

He pulls her away from the wall, using his legs and feet to fully remove his shorts from his body, kicking them aside. He gently lays her down on the mattress, pulling off her bottoms completely and throwing them to the side. There’s a moment where he does nothing and Dana self-consciously opens her eyes to see him staring down at her.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks.

“No,” he says with the faintest smile. “Nothing at all. I just want to…”

He doesn’t finish what he was going to say he just shuffles down the bed, lining up his mouth with her cunt and oh my god she was the sunflower seed now. Dana lets out the loudest, longest moan possible as Mulder plays with her clit, trying to crack it open. He licks it, sucks it, bites it gently. That, and the combination of his fingers sends her over. Dana comes hard, crying out his name.

“Fucking hell…” she says, breathing heavily, attempting to catch her breath as she comes down.

“Yeah…” he says, sounding just as breathless as she. He wraps her legs around him, holding the top of his thighs as he guides himself in.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She was better than Phoebe, better than Kristen, better than anyone he’s ever had.

He can still taste her if he runs his tongue over his lips. That, and the feeling of her engulfing him sends him into a frenzy. Holy shit, is he so happy Phoebe cheated on him. He has a mind to thank her when he next sees her.

Dana is putting beneath him, moaning like crazy. He leans over her, finding her mouth once again and kissing her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. He wants her to come again, wants to feel her clenching around him.

His fingers find her clit again and her body jerks, whether oversensitive or what, Mulder doesn’t know but he doesn’t give, he keeps thrusting and keeps a hard, fast pace on her clit.

And it works. He comes around him, muscles clenching so hard he almost comes as well. Her nails rake his back and yes, please, please leave marks, he wants her on his skin forever.

At the last second, the final tug, he pulls out, pumps his hand over his cock in flurried movements and spills himself all over her stomach.

It’s over. He lays on the dirty, old, come-ridden mattress next to her, feeling like he just died and went to heaven.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She’ll never see him again.

Dana packs her suitcase, getting ready to go home in an hour. Ellen said nothing to her when Dana had returned, she just grinned and offered the shower to Dana first.

It was one summer tryst. She’ll never see him again.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A letter is waiting for him on the kitchen table when he goes downstairs. It’s handwritten, addressed to him and his house, in blue ink, the handwriting feminine looking. Mulder picks it up, curiosity burning through him.

The contents inside are simple enough. First there is the letter.

Mulder,

I don’t know if you remember me or if I was just something to satisfy a need, I even debated writing this letter to you and telling you this. In the envelope with this letter there is a picture and you might not know what it is, that is what this letter is for. That picture is a scan, Mulder. As I’m writing this I’m 9 weeks pregnant. I thought it through, every possibility, and all possibilities lead back to you. I don’t want your money, this letter isn’t about that, you don’t need to do anything, I just thought you had a right to know. Do with this information as you like but I’ve attached a phone number on the back if you wanted to call, I’m not expecting you to but it’s there. So, you’re a father now, Mulder, in theory if not in practice. I bet you didn’t think that would happen, did you? Neither did I but I’ve come to terms with it, I guess I don’t really have a choice. Keep the picture or throw it away, it’s up to you, I just wanted you to know.

Dana.

Mulder puts the letter down and reaches into the envelope. He finds what he’s looking for and, with his heart pounding, pulls it out. He counts to three before turning it around.

And there it was. A baby. His baby. His knees buckle beneath him and he’s forced to sit down. All he can do is stare at the picture, his stomach in knots. He doesn’t even hear Samantha enter the room.

“What’s that?” she asks.

Mulder looks up, staring at her for a moment.

“I’m a father,” he says simply and looks back at the scan.

“You’re a what?”

“A father…” A grin spreads across his face. He turns the letter over and there, like she said, is a phone number. He goes over to the telephone and dials the number. It rings three times before a voice answers.

“Hello?”

And it’s Dana’s.

“Hi, this is Mulder. I wondered if I could speak to you…”

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #msr #mulder/scully #au #scullysexualwrites

25 notes · View notes

hypersonic04 · 1 year ago

Text

Part One:

I haven't written anything in so long, but today I had a sudden burst of inspiration for an enemies-to-lovers series with Ross? If anything, this is for me to simply live my fantasies (lol). word count: 1,467

My shoes are squeaky on the floors, and it's like the fluorescent lighting of the hallway makes me even more conscious of the nails-on-a-chalkboard noise emanating from my footsteps. I cringe to myself and pray that the band aren't recording anything important right now - I don't think the sound of rubber against wood flooring in the background of his song is something Matty would see as valuable to the band's development.

I try to blame my lack of sleep and hydration for the swirling feeling in my stomach, however I reckon it's probably more to do with the fact that today is my first day working with them. Working in music is something I've always wanted, but throwing myself in at the deep end with one of the biggest bands in the industry was not exactly my plan. When someone like Jack offers you the opportunity to write with The 1975, you don't pass it up.

I reach the room that Jamie pointed me in the direction of, a sign stuck on there with blu-tack - 'WRITING IN PROGRESS'. My lungs feel like they can't fill up properly as I attempt to take a deep breath, my hand drifting to the doorknob.

It was almost like I commanded the door to open with my mind. It swings open aggressively before I can even touch it, and I'm met with what I can only describe as a biblically-accurate Jesus.

He's frowning, and I can't help but feel like I'm already in their way. He excuses himself past me with pursed lips and a raised brow, slipping past me and swiftly making his way down the hall I had only been nervously pacing minutes ago. His shoes didn't squeak, though.

"Uh, hi!" I say, perhaps a tad too sprightly for the atmosphere of the room. "I'm Iris, I-"

"Lovely to meet you, Iris. I'm Adam," He stands up and holds his hand out, the first out of the four of them to greet me. It seems like they were having a meeting of sorts, the three remaining men in the room each sat on sofas. Adam almost seems relieved that there had been a change of topic upon my entrance, the tension in the room easing slightly as he shakes my hand. "This is Matty, George..." He gestures between them and they give me a friendly smile each, the kind you might give to a new colleague in an office.

I stand awkwardly in the doorway, and it's at that moment that I begin to question everything. What was I thinking? Why did I possibly think that writing music with a very established, very successful band was a good idea?

"I, uh-" I wrack my brain for what I'd practiced to say next, but the whole situation is nothing like I had expected. I mean, there's only three of them here, for a start.

"Jamie played us a few of the songs you've worked on, you're really talented." Matty states matter-of-factly, still sat with his legs spread wide, an acoustic guitar leaning against the side of the sofa.. "I didn't realise you'd worked with Phoebe."

"Thanks," I smile quickly and subconsciously run my hands over the denim around my hips, immediately stopping when I realise how visible my nerves are. "Yeah, we met through Jack."

"How do you know Jack?" He asks, and it takes me a few moments to recognise that his bluntness is not a reflection of his opinions of me, but rather just his general manner.

"We met at The Brits. I was there on a uni placement, and we just kind of got talking." I nod, as if the gestures affirms my place in the room.

"Do you want a drink or anything, before we start?" George stands up suddenly and it's almost a comfort, a swift diversion from my professional accolades and connections.

"Yes, please," I smile. "Just water will be fine, thank you."

I take a seat on the sofa and grab my notebook, scraps of verses and snippets of bridges scribbled down in virtually unintelligible hand-writing. Looking up as George hands me the bottle of water, I notice the look they exchange between themselves.

"I'm really sorry, I don't mean to be forward, but isn't there supposed to be four of you?" I break the silence, an airy chuckle masking my anxiety.

"Uh, yeah," Adam starts, but is quickly cut off by Matty.

"Yeah, Ross." He looks at me with a face that suggests he's pissed off. "but someone's in a bit of a mood today, so he's not going to be joining us." He sighs.

We start by discussing what their main focus is at the minute, the direction they want their fourth album to go in, their usual creative process. It feels like a priviledge to have such knowledge, my brain simply a sponge for information like this. I think Matty can sense me engagement as he talks, going into detail as I make notes like it's a lecture. The icy atmosphere in the rooms thaws gradually, as do my nerves and apprehension at being in a recording studio alone with three strange men. I admire their respective passions for music, whether it be playing it or producing it, and it's as if there's a sense of respect between the four of us as we discuss our plans for writing.

The conversation flows easily, until it doesn't.

The door swings open, exactly as it did about an hour ago when I was on the other side of it. My breath hitches as he enters the room, my eyes glued to the notes sat in my lap. There's an almost frosty silence creeping in, and I wonder what could have possibly happened between them to cause this.

"Ross, this is Iris." Matty introduces me as offers me an apologetic smile, his eyes creasing at the edges.

I look over to where he's stood, the door closing behind him and suddenly making the room feel a lot smaller. Ross' eyes are dark - really dark. Nearly as dark as the hair he wears pulled back, and the beard that decorates his face. I swallow nervously as I give him a smile, the twisting feeling in my stomach worsening when he doesn't return it. I look away, half because of the anxiety pooling in my chest, and half because I'm convinced that if I'd have stared for any longer, I wouldn't have stopped.

"Nice to meet you." He replies, his back turned to me as he fiddles with the knobs and faders on the dashboard. I hear George inhale sharply, his frustration clear. Adam shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat.

"We've just been showing her some of the songs we're working on. Feel free to join us." Matty says sharply. "You know, seeing as it is actually your band, too."

Ross turns around quickly and rather that aiming his stare at Matty, it finds me. I involuntarily raise my eyebrows in surprise, looking to the other boys in search of answers, perhaps. His icy glare lands on me for a few seconds before he appears to give in to something, huffing loudly and making his way to the seat furthest from me. I wonder whether it's intentional as he folds his arms across his chest and looks between the four of us expectantly.

The discussion carries on, and it takes everything in me not to get up and run. His mere presence makes my muscles stiffen, and every time I look up and see him staring at me from across the room, I feel sick.

"So are we all ok to meet again tomorrow? I think it would be better if we use Real World, it's better for recording the strings and stuff." Matty talks as he gathers his notebook and belongings from the coffee table in front of him. We all agree, and before we can make further arrangements, Ross is already leaving the room. I stand there, my hands by my sides, a sense of disappointment overwhelming me.

"It's nothing personal, Iris." George tries to justify, raising from his seat as frowning at me. I nod, also gathering my things and stuffing them into my tote bag. "Honestly."

I don't know what I expected - they've known each other forever. It was naive of me to think that I was going to swan in and connect with them all immediately, writing some gems and leaving with a paycheck and four new friends. Nevertheless, the disheartened feeling that swells in my chest hurts.

"We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Matty rests a hand on my shoulder, and the whole sense of familiarity in the exchange makes me feel a tad better about the impression I've made.

"Yeah, I'll be there, 12pm on the dot."

#1975 band #adam hann #fanfic #george daniel #matty healy #ross macdonald #the 1975 #matty the 1975 #bfiafl #atpoaim

69 notes · View notes

traumadumpwriter · 9 months ago

Text

Heavy trigger warning! This story includes heavy themes of ab*se, r*pe, self h*rm, mental illness and violence.

You can check out the other chapters by going on the Freedom tag on my page!

All likes and comments are massively appreciated

Freedom: A John Shelby mini fic

Chapter Seven: 5217 words

Alice had stayed leant into John's side for the whole walk home, his arm on her waist making her feel safe in the dark Birmingham streets. They were both still covered in blood, illuminated in the occasional fire or streetlamp - but of course no passerby dared to question them.

John felt extremely protective of Alice, wanting to get her home as soon as possible and away from the preying eyes of men. He was hardly surprised that David was stupid enough to have attempted the vile act - having an intense dislike for the man instantly upon first glance - but with him, Tommy and Arthur in the building; that was incredibly stupid.

"He's lucky he's still fucking alive. Should've bloody killed him. Shouldn't have let Alice get her hands dirty. Should've taken her into the back room and then shot the cunt myself." His thoughts began to fester and he started to feel irritation and self doubt until Alice's voice broke the still air.

"You know, one of the first nights I came back, I had a dream about you." She sounded amused; like she was telling a joke rather than admitting a deep subconscious desire. "I only ever really had nightmares, so I took it as a sign."

He wanted to tease her, to ask if it were dirty. But he found himself unable to talk as her rapid mood swings once again left him temporarily dumbfounded. He didn't know wether to comfort her or be scared of her.

Alice on the other hand, was just happy to be in John's arms; the nightmare of that day quickly fading from her mind as she focused on the handsome man, unaware of his stress.

"I was in the caravan, dark and alone. Then I was falling, like the floor just disappeared or something, and suddenly I was on the high street, surrounded by all these people... I was trying to get through the crowd, away from my husband. He was chasing me and I was shouting out for someone to help me, but no one did." John's eyes flicked from her lips to the pavement ahead as she spoke, intently listening to each word but also paranoid of any man who drew too near.

"Then you were there.. And you took my hand. And everything was okay." She playfully scoffed before looking up at John. "Do you ever dream?"

He sighed. On any other day the realisation that he'd seeped into her subconscious as a knight in shining armour would surely give him quite the kick, but today was a bad day. He was tired and stressed out; his mind going from one bad place to another. And her question didn't help, it seemed tedious compared to the real troubles on his mind.

"Yeah. I dream." He replied bluntly. "Bad ones usually."

His annoyance was clear in his tone and Alice immediately stopped walking, crossing her arms.

"Why are you angry? Is it me? Did you lie?"

He turned to her with an equally annoyed look. "Lie about what?"

"About being okay with what I just did."

Another sigh escaped his mouth although this one was more of a groan as he looked down at her subtly insecure face.

"No, I'm not exactly feeling fine and dandy about you doing Blinder work, nor you slitting your wrist in front of us like it were nothing.. But I didn't lie, the cunt had it coming." He answered.

"So why the mood then?" It was almost like she hadn't heard anything that had come out his mouth other than 'I didn't lie' - it was all she'd asked for after all.

"Because of what I just said. You shouldn't be doing blinder work, it ain't right." His voice got louder before going quiet again as he started to rant more to the sky than to Alice. "I should've gutted him that first night he was in there giving you hassle. Then he would've never had the chance to bother you tonight. And I should've taken that bloody knife out of your hand before you did anything stupid."

"You shouldn't blame yourself." She cut off his ramble and stepped towards him, gesturing to continue their walk home. "I liked it."

He hesitated before putting his arm back around her; feeling almost uncontrollably submissive to her gaze. But he did it nonetheless and started to walk again. The house was only a minute away.

"Yeah I could see that." He let out an awkward tut. "And that's not the point."

"So, what is the point?"

There were a million and one points. All of which he knew would fall onto deaf ears. Alice clearly wasn't feeling particularly receptive that night and she could be hard to get a point across to on her good days. The only thing that really, truly mattered in that moment was that he had her in his arms and she was safe.

"It doesn't matter." He grumbled before sliding the key into the front door. "Just don't fucking cut yourself again, you could've hit a vein or artery or something."

He didn't look at her, instead choosing to focus on the door when he spoke those words. It made him feel awkward, giving an instruction like that to her as if she were a child.

"It's not like she'll listen anyway." He thought sourly but then she suddenly stood up on her toes and planted a short kiss on his lips, changing his tone instantly.

"If it makes you feel better I won't cut my arms." Looking up through her thick lashes with genuine, palpable care, John let the knot in his stomach loosen slightly and a smile tug at the corners of his lips.

"Or just don't cut anywhere." He said with another sigh before softly planting a kiss on her forehead.

This kiss was longer as he held her for a moment, taking in all that had happened that day from start to finish; it had been a blood soaked one and he needn't think of anymore.

"I suppose you'll be boiling the water for a bath." He said once he pulled away. "Given the state of you and all."

Alice would've usually scoffed or rolled her eyes at such a comment but she could tell that John was feeling sensitive so she refrained from it, instead smiling up at him with star filled eyes. There were a few spots of blood on his face - light splash back from David or herself - but mostly it was his hands and shirt that were stained red.

"Yeah I was gonna. You too I'm guessing?"

"Yeah. I'd invite you to join me if you weren't such a danger to knobs."

This did earn an eye roll, playful though as they finally stepped in the front door.

"Yeah yeah. Count yourself lucky."

—————

A few weeks later and that incident had put some more pep in Alice's step. It had made her feel stronger and prouder - more back to her old self.

She'd even bragged about it to Ada, about how she could've killed the man in a swift move if she'd wanted but had shown the restraint to not do so. Her friend had mixed feelings about the whole situation, as did Polly who'd heard of it through Arthur.

The matron of course said nothing about it to Alice; mostly stewing silently on her worries for the girl and the guilt it brought. There had been one time she'd discussed it with Tommy in his dimly lit office.

"You three just let her cut her wrist, then you didn't even kill the bastard who tried force himself on her. What if she'd gone too deep and bloody died?" She hissed, watching Thomas take a deep drag of his cigarette as he thought over her words, his face devoid of emotion as per.

Finally he replied "But she didn't" earning an irritated tut from his aunt.

"Do you even care? You know that your brother is completely in love with her and is no doubt going to ask to marry her. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Another sharp inhale of smoke before he spoke, meeting Polly's intense gaze.

"You're not the only one who made a promise, Pol."

"But I'm the only one who seems to bloody care about keeping it!"

Ada on the other hand had expressed direct concern to Alice but it fell upon deaf ears as she insisted she was fine and that her self inflicted injury was "no big deal."

When Alice wouldn't listen, she vented to her husband instead. He'd been around more as the summer ended and autumn drew near, buying Karl and Ada new warm hats and gloves and it almost made Ada forget how much she hated him when he was away. It wasn't until she told him about light details of the David incident that she remembered why she hated him so.

"At least she can defend herself." She had protested to Freddie, after ranting and shortly regretting it as he called Alice a litany of insults.

"The girl is a fucking psycho. You need to stay away from her. And keep her away from Karl!" He'd demanded, causing a huge fight between the two.

Meanwhile, John had been trying not to worry about her but struggling not to. The image of the woman slicing her wrist with no apprehension, no fear, no reaction, had embedded itself in his brain and with it a litany of new fears.

He always knew that she was unpredictable and he always knew that she'd done things like that as a kid, he'd seen it for gods sake.

But seeing it now was different. It wasn't a distant shock anymore; something that could be ignored and left for someone else to deal with. Instead it was at the forefront of his mind as everyday he realised more and more that he really loved this woman, she wasn't just some fantasy anymore - and as much as he wanted to hurt any man who dare even approach her - she was her own biggest threat.

"I just don't bloody get it." He sighed to Arthur after a long day at the shop. Alice was still serving pints from the bar and chatting merrily to customers whilst the two spoke in their booth.

"Why the fuck would you want to do that shit to yourself? It's like she don't care if she dies or not!"

Arthur also sighed, wanting to comfort his brother but having no good answers.

"I don't bloody understand it either." He muttered before taking a big gulp of his drink. "Maybe one day it'll make sense."

"Nah." John quickly protested with a scoff, his eyes remaining fixed on the wooden hatch in the wall, like she would reappear through it at any moment with a fresh drink. "She hides things. I don't even wanna know what she does to the rest of her body-"

Arthur let out a rude chuckle to interrupt him, banging his drink down on the table before proclaiming "What, you mean you're this soft for a bird and you ain't even fucked her?" with a typical manly leer.

John shot him a sharp glare, tutting and nodding sarcastically as he started to feel a defensive anger rush to his head like air to a balloon.

"Look, don't fucking talk about her like that, alright?" He aggressively raised his voice, much to the somewhat surprise of his brother.

Then all of the air was gone. He was at a loss for words again, as too often seemed to be the case with Alice.

"She ain't like that.. she- she-" John started to stammer and then paused for a moment, trying to condense all his thoughts into one sentence. It was through scouring his mind that he suddenly remembered the rage he'd had for Jones and how he was the one who made her like this. He was the one to be blamed.

"The fucking scum bag who took her.. he did some real rotten stuff that I don't think she's ever gonna forget." John finally finished with a bitter sneer before downing his drink.

"Well why haven't we bloody blinded the cunt?" Arthur retorted.

Another frustrated sigh fell from his brothers lips.

"I fucking sent Johnny Dogs on the trail. Can't bloody find him." He answered shortly. "And if Johnny can't find him, how are we gonna?"

"Bloody ask her mate."

"She don't talk about none of that.. but I wanna make things serious. I think she's my one." His demeanour became more solemn as he confessed to his brother.

Whilst their conversation got more intense, Alice was on the other side of the wall blissfully unaware. It had been fifteen days since the incident with David and John had spent most nights with her since. When the clock hit eleven and Alice was closing the pub, he'd turn up at The Garrison to make sure she was walked home safe. Or if the path was clear, they'd end up talking for hours between free liquor and passionate kisses.

She hoped that tonight would be one of those nights, daydreaming amongst pouring drinks. But alas, John kept ordering and ordering yet never inviting her in which struck her as peculiar, especially as the night drew to a close.

"Are him and Arthur really just getting wankered by themselves on a Tuesday?" She thought, slightly amused despite her disappointment.

John answered her internal question by suddenly slamming open the cubby door, drawing all attention to the brothers for a second before everyone meekly returned to their conversations. His eyes instantly went to Alice's and a smug smirk crossed his lips once he saw that she too was intensely watching him.

It was like she could read his mind, a blush forming on her face as she realised he'd caught her staring. Not that it really mattered, but his smirk made her feel like it might.

He stepped over to her with a drunken swagger, going straight behind the bar and grabbing her hand.

"John! What are you-" She started to ask but he leant in close and moved his other hand to the small of her back.

"Arthur will close up. Come with me." He whispered in her ear, sending a quick wave of shivers down her spine. The smell of liquor on his breath almost sent her into a panic as a reel of bad memories flashed before her eyes, but that panic was quickly subsided by John's comforting, tobacco and cinnamon laced scent swinging her back into reality.

"Okay." She nodded and squeezed his hand to which he immediately grinned and pulled her away, swiftly leading her through the front door and out into the street.

There was an apparent gleam of excitement across John's face - something that made Alice giggle and her stomach flip.

"Where are we going?" She called to him from behind as he pulled her forward.

He carried on pacing through the road without a word until they reached his automobile and he smirked "We're going to go dance."

"I've not got a dancing dress, shoes nor any makeup! You've given me no time to prepare." She tutted, although a smile did remain on her face.

"You don't need none of that looking lovely as you are."

After slight persuasion, John swung the car around to Ada's so that Alice could borrow something more appropriate to wear, impatiently beeping outside as he waited.

Inside, Ada was rummaging through her wardrobe and chatting excitedly to Alice as she held Karl - much to the silent displeasure of Freddie who was just laid on the bed listening to their gossip, knowing an argument would later ensue.

When Alice finally stepped out of the house clad in a black, sequinned dress that rested a few inches above her knees, John's jaw almost dropped and the beeping immediately halted.

"I've not got anything on my face, done nothing to my hair." She complained, placing her work plimsoles in the backseat before sliding into the passenger side. "I look a bloody mess."

The man didn't immediately respond, mentally noting her statement as ridiculous and becoming distracted by the vision before him. His eyes ran down her legs slowly and sweetly like sticky toffee, a smirk twinging at the corners of his lips when he finally reached her borrowed shoes and saw the three inch heels attached to them. It was then that his eyes went back to hers and he finally replied with a smug expression.

"You look fucking gorgeous.. and I'm the one who gets to show you off tonight, how lucky am I?" He grinned, making Alice blush and giggle.

"You're such a gentleman John. It's a wonder no one else got to you before me." She doted and he almost drunkenly said the same back to her before quickly closing his mouth, remembering 'someone did get to her before me.'

He tried to laugh it off and think of something else to say but Alice noticed his awkward change up and it only took her a few seconds to suss out what words he'd stopped himself from saying.

"You're gonna have to show me the ropes of this dancing business-"

"You were going to say the same to me until you remembered my husband, weren't you?" She cut him off plainly, once again earning an awkward silence from John as he scraped his brain for what to say back.

"It's okay. I know I'm damaged goods." She continued with a scoff before a playful smile sprung from her lips and she lightly tapped John "I was just kidding. What's the sour face for?"

He was annoyed now. Why did she have to say stuff like that? And then have the nerve to expect anyone to be okay about it?

"But you weren't kidding and even if you were, it ain't funny Alice. And why do you still call him your husband? Ain't like he earned that." John hissed but Alice still remained amused.

"Does it make you jealous?" She teased.

John tutted and pulled a disgusted face. "Of that cunt? Are you fucking serious?" His volume raised slightly and his eyes sent daggers, sending a sudden pang of anxiety through the previously cocky woman.

Still though, she had to keep up a facade so she stayed cool, staring back at John with an equally intense gaze.

"What's it matter if I was?" She raised an eyebrow.

That visibly annoyed him more.

"Stop fucking doing this, Alice! You can't just say shit like that and expect me to say nout about it! And then all of these fucking bullshit answers and riddles when I ask you anything! I'm trying to help you, I wanna help-"

"Well I didn't ask for help!" She interrupted him sharply. "And it's not like you tell me anything about how you're feeling or what you've gone through!"

John was visibly taken aback by that.

"See. You think I don't know, but I do. I see it. The war in your eyes. The war you've carried on fighting even after coming home. Why don't we talk about that? Why don't you tell me how you truly feel right now?"

Thick silence filled the car, Alice brewing with irritation whilst John sat motionless in thought, trying to compile the right sentence from the many words jumping around his head.

"Not so easy when it's about you, is it?" The woman broke the silence snidely, crossing her arms.

John instantly replied this time, an answer finally coming to him and leaving no space for quiet as he plainly said "So you wanna know how I feel right now then?"

All of the hope that had been sucked from Alice in the moments prior was now making a slow return. His eyes locked onto hers were showing a vulnerability he'd never shown, so she almost smiled as she quietly responded "Yes. Tell me."

"I feel like, I want to take things further.. but you've still got secrets and a husband... and I feel like he still owns you." The words struggled to come out, feeling as bad to say as they were to hear.

Alice's heart had been lifted and then crushed all within a few seconds.

"John.. I... He's dead to me." She stammered, feeling stupid and rejected, trying to hold back a wave of emotions.

"Say his name then. Or the name he gave to you."

Another thick silence.

"Exactly. He ain't dead to me. You can't even say his name it scares you that bloody much. I-I've got to kill him Alice." John's tone was intimidatingly serious but went soft towards the end as he saw her demeanour crumble.

For some reason, tears started to fall from her eyes upon hearing that. Maybe it was the fact that John cared that much about her; the intense realness of his emotion, or maybe it was the overwhelming fear of the man they were speaking of. Either way, she was more embarrassed than ever and quickly turned to open the car door but John stopped her, lightly grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him.

"Stop it John, I'm a bloody stupid disgrace and I need to go. Find another girl to dance with." She quietly cried, looking down to avoid meeting his gaze as she gave his pull no resistance.

It pained him so much to see her like this; full of self hatred and suffering because of something done to her by an evil person. The conversation had sobered him up and he'd lost most of the confidence that he'd been building up with each bottle in the hours prior.

However, he knew he still needed to say it - he still needed to tell her the truth. Arthur's earlier words rang through his head; "Tell her before it's too late, before she leaves again or does something unfixable to herself!"

He took a deep breath, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it.

"Look at me, darling." He said quietly and she slowly lifted her head, her glistening eyes meeting his steely ones.

"You're none of those nasty things you say about yourself... I fucking love you, Alice. I've been dreaming of you ever since you left and I don't wanna dance with no one else... I recon I want you to be my wife someday-"

Her heart jumped into her throat and the world felt frozen. Did he really just say that? She was too shocked to even smile, instead interrupting him with a wide eyed "Really?"

"Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn't I?" He grinned before nervously adding "Is that not what you want?"

Finally, she was able to relax and grin, her tears quickly drying up "Of course that's what I want" moving her hand to cradle John's face.

In the dim light, they shared a slow and passionate kiss, fingers intertwining and heartbeats racing. The romantic atmosphere was cut short though by John pulling away and sighing "But as I said before; it's all someday. There's some things I need to do first and killing that bastard is one of those."

Alice scoffed.

"Why? Because he's still my husband in the eyes of some questionable God? Or because he took a part of my body? 'Cus if that's why, you've got a long list." She was regaining her confidence and talking nonchalantly, unintentionally sending a dagger into John's gut.

"It's because I fucking love you Alice, didn't you hear me? And I'm gonna kill every fucking bastard who ever laid a finger on you. You understand?" His irritation was bubbling again despite his straight face and it suddenly began to make sense to Alice; John's desire to kill Jones.

Was this love? The real love that she'd only ever dreamed of or read about? Was she really lucky enough to have a man care for her this much?

And It's not like she didn't also have a deep desire to see Jones dead. But she never expected anyone else to care, let alone this much.

There were so many worries racing through her mind though, the fear of seeing Jones again, the worry that they wouldn't find him and therefore John might refuse to be with her. The pressure was immense.

But with a sharp inhale and quick dab of her eyes, the brunette nodded and declared "I'll help you find them, but I want to be the one to kill him."

—————

Despite the earlier intense conversation, by the time they reached the club, the mood was cheery and playful again. Both felt completely enamoured by each other, hands constantly intertwined or roaming further onto their bodies - especially as they danced. The club was quite busy; small and cosy with warm lighting and yet having an air of snobbery, like it were a secret club that the pair shouldn't have stumbled into. They didn't mind though, ignoring the whispers and looks as they laughed the night away.

John's words kept repeating in her head, giving her butterflies as she looked into his eyes and pictured being his wife. His protective arm and gentle patience had finally made her feel unconditionally safe with the man- along with a couple drinks - and she found herself uncontrollably lustful for him; even more so than she'd been before.

Now she felt ready. He'd said he loved her for goodness sake. There's no way he'd hurt her.

With a grin, she removed her arms which were draped loosely around his shoulders and grabbed his hand - this time being the one to lead him out of the building.

"Why we leaving beautiful? I's about to get us another drink." John mumbled in her ear, planting kisses to her neck between each word.

"Because I love you. And I want you." She replied, looking straight ahead as they headed towards the automobile.

John's steps almost halted. It had slightly upset him earlier that she didn't say it back, but he'd managed to keep it hidden as her emotions felt more important than his. Even as they'd danced and kissed, he'd secretly been worrying that he'd confessed too soon and she didn't really feel the same way.

A satisfied smirk set across his face once her statement had fully settled in; the spark in his belly now a full fire. He beamed and span Alice to face him, planting a big kiss on her lips before they climbed into the car.

"Where are we going?" He swallowed, Alice's hand teasingly trailing along his thigh.

"Yours, I guess." She smirked confidently, taking her hand away from him to grab a cigarette from the small compartment in the car.

He instantly missed her touch and craved to feel it again, almost feeling like he was being deprived of oxygen. It only took a second for him to put the keys in and start speeding down the road.

Upon reaching John's house, the two were attached to each other even before opening the front door; one of John's hands running down Alice's back whilst the other fiddled with his key.

Once the large door was open, Alice practically shoved him inside; giggling before lacing her fingers through his as he lead her to his bedroom.

The house was small and quiet, only the sounds of their footsteps being heard until they reached the bedroom. She'd passed out on his sofa after talking into the late hours on a few occasions now, but she'd never gone upstairs.

Alice looked around the room slowly, it wasn't much less bare than the room he had at the family house - beige walls and a wooden floor with aged furniture, decorated by the occasional photograph or doily.

"You like it?" John spoke from his sat position on the edge of the bed, snapping her attention back to him.

When their eyes connected she felt her stomach flip and the butterflies she had return tenfold.

"It's okay." She laughed slightly "Could do with some more things on the wall."

"What kind of things?" He replied, his eyes hungrily running up and down her body but his tone suddenly becoming awkward.

Alice realised that she was going to have to initiate whatever happened next - John was obviously either too intimidated or trying to be a gentleman. In truth, it was a mix of both.

"You don't care about that. Let's fuck." She shortly answered with a smirk, shocking John for a second before a heavy wave of relief rushed through him and a grin crossed his face.

She quickly moved to straddle him and his hands instantly started to roam her body, small moans escaping his mouth as their crotches started to grind against each others.

"Take off the dress." He mumbled after a minute, releasing his hands from her arse and his lips from her neck.

"You have to get undressed too. I don't want to be the only one exposing myself." She insecurely returned, earning a smirk from John.

He undid his shirt and pulled off his trousers with no issue, whilst Alice stood awkwardly beside the bed - still fully clothed.

Once he noticed her seeming uncomfortableness, his smirk dropped into a concerned frown and he asked "What's up with you?.. If you want to stop we can stop."

"No. It's not that." Alice quickly replied, swallowing at the sight of his chiseled chest leading all the way down to the bulge in his underwear. "I- I, I just don't know if I'm going to look good."

It made him sad to see the beautiful woman so full of self doubt.

"I wish you could see what I see" He tutted "cus' you're the most gorgeous woman I ever known."

The sincerity in his eyes and voice made her blush and she looked away before starting to unzip her dress, mentally building herself up again. Every second she took to pull it down felt like a minute for John and when the fabric finally dropped he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Her body was as heavenly as he'd imagined, especially as she slowly removed her bra. But his fears were true; she was covered in brutal, angry scars and not all of them looked self inflicted. There were also relatively fresh red lines marking her thighs.

Those weren't things that needed addressing in that moment though, in fact he'd expected it, so he quickly pushed the thoughts away and focused back on her beauty. His hands and lips quickly found themselves back on her body as she moved to straddle him again.

"Fucking hell Alice, you are fucking beautiful." He looked up from her breasts to her face, planting a long kiss on her neck and moving a hand to kneed one of her breasts whilst the other held her waist.

A quiet moan escaped her mouth and she giggled slightly as she started to grind against him. Her mind was focused on nothing but John and his on her. She too felt enamoured by his body, impressed by his skills in the bedroom and the way he made her feel at ease - even as he finally penetrated her.

The night lasted a while until they eventually fell asleep in each others arms, completely exhausted, comfortable and happy.

19 notes · View notes