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quietstormxr · 8 days ago

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Garrick Tavis x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: You thought you were Garrick's world, until Xaden ordered Violet's protection and that always seemed to take priority.

A/N: Mentions of torture, violence, spoilers for FW, small OS spoiler, angst

Word Count: 9k

Waking up to the bitter scent of healing herbs and the blinding white of the infirmary is not what you expected when you had gone to bed three days ago. Eyes adjusting to the lighting, you took stock of your limbs and tested each and every one. Curling your fingers and toes, rolling your wrists and ankles, moving your head from side to side, but when you went to pick up your legs, the phantom pain came rushing back in fast and sharp.

A moan escaped your lips unbidden as you tried to push down the reminder of the two lieutenants who had used you as their personal punching bag. This wasn’t the first time you’d been interrogated for RSC, but it was definitely the worst. And you knew there was something more to it than just RSC because you had been on your own. For three days, you were held captive, beaten, bruised, and broken all for what, you didn’t know. Or at least you think it was three days, but pain and mending seem to blend together when you have nothing else to focus on.

Finally opening your eyes fully, you look to the end of the bed and expect to see a familiar pair of hazel eyes staring back at you. Instead, you are met with an empty chair.

Brows furrowing, you slowly hoist yourself to a sitting position to take a better look at the room around you. It is there and then that your heart absolutely shatters. Reality of everything slamming into you in a way that you never thought possible.

There’s no mistaking that no one had been in to see you. The area usually meant for visitors still as pristine as usual and no furniture out of place. But before you let yourself spiral, you make a promise to wait to confirm with the healers themselves.

As if answering your silent call, a light blue uniform peaks around the door and comes toward you.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake my dear.” A comforting smile breaks across the older woman’s face causing you to give her one in return.

“Just need to check over a few things with you and then you can be on your way.” She continues her tone sweet, but actions clinical.

Before you can decide the better of it, the words have left your mouth. “Can I ask if anyone has come to see me while I’ve been in here?”

Sadness creeps into her eyes and the look confirms your suspicion before she even speaks. You give a slight shake of your head and tilt it up to try and stop the tears that are beginning to threaten. Pools of water coat every inch of your eyelids, but you refuse to close them and let a single tear fall. Not now at least. You only let your fragile heart break into pieces and know there isn’t enough glue in the world to possibly put it back together anymore.

Before long the healer has given you a few pain tonics and confirmed you can head back to your room. You take the bag and throw your torn and bloodied flight jacket over your arm and head back towards the riders quadrant hoping you can avoid everyone.

Zinhal however decides that isn’t to be your luck. As you turn onto the landing for the second-year floor, the last person you wanted to see is standing right in front of you. A smile on his face has his dimple popping as he looks at you after pausing his conversation with Bodhi.

Emotions swirl and you’re unsure if you want to punch him in the face or rip out his heart, just like he just did to yours. The hurt settling into your heart and dragging it to the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight.

Taking a deep breath as every piece of your shattered heart jostles against your chest, you look straight forward showing no emotion and head straight to your door.

Before you can make it all the way to your room, the mountain of muscle that usually had your heart racing stands in front of you. Your eyes slowly rise and look back at the man who was your entire world. The dimpled smile still plastered on his face, he steps forward to take your hand and you immediately step back and avert your gaze.

“Hey.” He has the audacity to put his hand under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

At those words you let out a sardonic scoff. Clearly the cretin in front of you has no idea what he just said and everything you just experienced.

“Where have you been over the last few days?” Your voice is dry and void of emotion, but you still need the answer.

He looks at you and furrows his brows before responding. “You know I was helping Xaden with the blades and saddle for Sorrengail. I’ve been in the forge with him.”

“Ah.” It’s the only thing you have to say to the man in front of you. Pulling your face from his hand, you sidestep him and begin walking to your room.

Without turning around, you call out to make sure he won’t follow you. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed early. I’ll see you later.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you shut your door behind you and lock it. Without hesitation, you pull out your book on wards and immediately start reweaving the ones you have. You pull every ounce of control you have left to change your wards to only allow yourself through your door. There is no doubt in your mind that Garrick will have a shock when he tries to come in, but at this point, you don’t care. Bitterness settles into your heart crawling like vines between your ribs with deep roots weaving between every bone.

Setting the last piece of power in place, you let yourself break. Sliding to your knees, every possible sound is drowned out by the sounds of your sobs. You let your head hit the floor as you break apart. Your body unable to even hold itself up. Tears streaming in a torrent down your face and your breathing turning rapid and irregular. You try, but it’s impossible to control the shaking of your body with the violent sobs racking your heart.

It isn’t until you wake the next morning that you realized you never even made it to your bed and sobbed on the floor until the exhaustion tore you apart. Rising, you go to the mirror and look back at the girl staring at you in the reflection.

The eyes that greet you are puffy and bloodshot, but there is a vacant look where there used to be a spark of life. There is no brightness to the color of your skin, every ounce of sunlight seemingly bleached from your complexion. Purple bruises look as if they are indented under your eyes. The color of your irises once so vivid now muted and dull, empty and haunted.

Closing them, you breathe in the heartbreak that has filled every pore of your skin. The breath feeling like its traveling through the broken glass of your lungs, sharp and unrelentingly painful. You know there is no way you can show the devastation you’re feeling, not in this quadrant, and not to all the people who told you that you were just another conquest. With a heaving sigh, you head to the bathing chamber and pray to the gods that you can wash away the grief as best you can and put on the face of a warrior.

Though as the water begins to heat your cold skin, you feel the warm tide of anger rise with it. A fury buried deep beneath your heart begins to consume everything. Thoughts you had buried for so long burrowing deep in your very core. You finish dressing and immediately make your way back to your room and dress for the day, every movement sharp and harried.

Putting on your tight-fitting training leathers, you tie your hair up close to your head and pin it in place. There’s no mistaking the blaze that has taken over your eyes a vibrant fire dancing in the previously muted color, dismissing the vacant look from before. Without waiting any longer, you tear your door open and begin the slog to the training room.

Your footsteps are heavy, thudding loudly against the stone floor as you march yourself towards the nearest punching bag. Each step is another strike of anger taking a bite out of your already tattered heart. The fire of your anger laid thick into the stones of the fortress.

“Feisty and wallowing today, are we?” The snarky question comes from the last female you wanted to see.

You don’t give her the satisfaction of a response as you continue pushing past her down the corridor. At least you didn’t think you would, until you find yourself turning around and looking at her with Bodhi now next to her.

“He’s all yours Cardulo. I’m done with all of you.” Your voice drips venom, though if either one of them knew you well enough, they would hear the betrayal and sadness seeping through every syllable.

Not taking another second to register what she could possibly reply, you immediately keep walking. Making your way into the gym, you quickly take up a spot at the nearest punching bag. Not bothering with wraps, you swing with every ounce of emotion you can possibly displace. White hot pain splits up your knuckles, but you relish in it as it replaces the agony tied around your heart.

Unsure of how long you’ve stood there delivering punches to the bag with all the force you can muster, you are startled when a large shadow appears behind you.

“What did that punching bag do to you?” There’s no mistaking the tease in his voice and it only fuels the fire within you.

“Fuck off, Tavis.” You spit to the man that is hovering over your shoulder.

As you go to throw another wild punch, your eyes fly up when your fist is intercepted by the aggravating man’s large hand.

“What’s gotten into you?” Garrick questions and his audacity to ask has you pulling back you hand as quickly as you can.

“It’s none of your business. In fact, I’m no longer your business. Why don’t you go back to protecting your duke and precious charge and leave me the hell alone.” The rancor in your tone is obvious as you immediately twist away and head to the door.

Before you can push it open, a gust of wind pushes you against the wall, taking the breath from your lungs. Looking up, hazel eyes are staring down at you mixed between disbelief and anger.

“You aren’t just going to say that and walk away. Tell me what the fuck is going on.” You can’t help the sarcastic laugh that falls from your lips.

“No.” Every bit of defiance is burning in your limbs, and you refuse to say anything more to the man who can’t seem to spare a minute of his day for you. Garrick stands there his eyes searching yours, though you know there is nothing but anger and emptiness behind your gaze. Your lungs begin burning as the fury rushes through your body.

His hand comes up to your face as if he wants to comfort you and you instantly slap it away. Garrick’s eyes flare at the action and you feel a slight satisfaction in the way the gold in his eyes seems to turn to worry. There isn’t any reason to worry though, not anymore, you think to yourself as you boldly stare back at him.

“What happened?” Garrick’s tone has softened as he’s realized that there’s more to your actions than just simple aggravation.

“If you have to ask, then you aren’t paying attention.” You snap; your tone refuses to soften after how many times this man has left you wondering your importance.

“Please tell me. I can’t fix anything if I don’t know where I went wrong.” The pleading in his voice tries to crack through the hurt that’s been living in your mind for months, but it just isn’t enough anymore.

“At this point, there isn’t anything to fix. You have your priorities and I’m not one of them. So, think of this as a boon. You now have more time to focus on your more important duties, Section Leader.” The sharpness of your voice cuts like a blade as you lay the final strike to your relationship.

You watch as his gaze cracks, the hard exterior he always wears fractures and shows you the broken man he is becoming at your words. Part of your heart wants to reach out and comfort him, but the harder part of you, tired of being left behind wins.

Taking advantage of his shock at your words, you quickly leave the gym, leaving the man that you used to think was your everything behind. The future that you had deigned to let run through your mind nothing but tattered shreds of a painting that was never allowed to form.

A few days later, you open your door, and your breath catches as you see Garrick’s frame standing outside, hands braced on either side of the threshold and a wild look behind his eyes.

“What do you want Tavis?” Your impatience is on full display as you take in the mussed look of the man in front of you, the complete reverse of his usual calm and poised demeanor. His curls are wilder than normal, showing how many times he’s run his hands through them and there is no mistaking the pallor of his skin and sunken state of his eyes.

“Why can’t I get into your room anymore?” He breathes as if it is the most urgent question he has.

“Simple.” You reply, your tone remaining cool and detached. “We aren’t together any longer, so there is no need for you to have access to my room.”

His hand moves to reach for you, but he immediately recoils at the wards that encase your door.

“Let me in, please.” The pleading in his voice and eyes would’ve cracked your resolve once, but now it just steels your heart. Though it’s impossible to completely dismiss the sweep of your stomach.

“No. You lost that privilege.” You refuse to let him claw his way back in, tired of always feeling second best. “Why don’t you go crawl back to Xaden, maybe he’ll let you in with him and Violet, because I’m done.”

As if caught off guard, he backs up a step leaving enough room for you to stride out and begin down the corridor.

“Wait.” His hand wraps around your wrist as you finally make your way out to the courtyard. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You scoff at his question but turn around and look him in the eyes with every ounce of disappointment you’ve ever felt.

“Did you know I was in the infirmary a week ago?” You watch as his eyes blow wide at the revelation, but all it does is fuel your rage.

“Precisely. Do you know why I was there? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t even know I was there so why would you know the reason?” You continue as you stalk towards the man. Even though he towers over you, the shadow of your bitterness is taller than any height he has on you.

“Are you alright?” He has the audacity to blurt as he looks your body up and down looking for injuries. The laugh that barrels out of you is nothing but cynical.

"Obviously.” You sneer. “No thanks to the man that supposedly loves me.” You don’t miss the way he flinches at your words.

Another sarcastic huff leaves you as you continue. “I was tortured by two lieutenants – alone - for three days, and in the infirmary for an entire day after that. But did the man that claims I’m his whole world show up?”

“No!” The roar that leaves you is louder than you expected, but your anger has exploded, and you can no longer keep it contained. Continuing to stalk into his space, you jab your finger into his hard chest.

“And I can see by the look on your face you didn’t even know.” Your bitterness is on full display now. “I always knew your allegiance was to Riorson and now by extension, Sorrengail. But I never thought it would be at the cost of even knowing I was fucking missing.”

“So, yes, this is the end of our road Garrick. Feel free to sow your fucking oats with anyone in the stables of Basgiath. I’m done. Finished. I refuse to be put last in the list of priorities for the man who claims that I’m his whole world.”

“I didn’t know.” The words leave his lips in the barest whisper as his stunned silence continues.

“How would you when you’re constantly following Xaden like his loyal pet? And now Violet. Sure, every single marked one has her on their radar, but at what fucking cost? When do any of you get to have your own lives?” The control on your words has completely left you as you continue to barrage the man in front of you with every ounce of bitterness in your heart. “I understand you owe him everything, but is it at the expense of having a life yourself? At what point do you get to make someone else your world? When do you get to live for yourself?”

You’ve never seen the man in front of you speechless, but it seems like you have rendered his tongue from his mouth at his continued silence. You shake your head as you begin to step back from him.

“Maybe this will help you in the long run, but no one is going to stay when they constantly must play second fiddle, even though a man claims you’re everything to him. Perhaps in another life we could’ve been happy, but I’m tired of always being your last priority.”

With that you let your feet carry you away from the man that you thought was your forever. You head to the flight field and only hope that you can outfly your own emotions.

Weeks pass and you don’t miss the glances that Garrick is always throwing your way. You have done your best to put distance between the both of you and being in a different wing, it works, for the most part. Every time your name is called to the mat, you don’t miss the way Garrick steps up and watches your every move.

In one particularly brutal match, you don’t miss the way that he goes to step in when you take a brutal punch to face. With blood spilling from a cut to your cheekbone, you turn away and stand on the other side of the mat an empty look on your face.

Trying to get in and out of battle brief without getting trapped by him becomes almost impossible. It’s as if he has become a sentinel at the door and refuses to move until you go in and out. On one particular day, the short fuse on your temper has been tested all day and it takes every ounce of control you possess not to rip into him as you try to get into the class. The minute it’s over, you are the first one out the door before Garrick can even blink.

The rawness of the day has taken every ounce of your control, so you find yourself walking out to the river in a bid to find a least a little slice of solace in this tumult of a life you’ve found yourself in. Sitting in the tall grass near the bank of the Iakabos, your head falls back on one of the stones and your eyes close relishing in the warmth of the sun on your face.

You let your mind wander as you try to let the warm glow of the setting sun and calming flow of the water become the only sounds and feelings left.

Unfortunately, it’s short-lived when you hear heavy footfalls behind you. Turning, your senses rise when you can’t see anyone behind you, but there is no mistaking the way the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand at attention.

“I know you’re there.” You call out to the copse of trees behind you, heartbeat erratic at what you aren’t sure is a threat or not.

In the next few seconds, your fear turns into annoyance as you register the person who has broken your solitude.

“I’m not interested in company, Durran. Least of all from any of Garrick’s loyalists.” You snap in irritation, turning back to face the river.

Bodhi continues his trek undeterred by your words, if the sounds of his footfalls are any indication. Aggravation begins to peak as Bodhi stops next to you and joins you to sit on the forest floor. You let out a heavy sigh, laden with annoyance before turning your head to look at the man sitting next to you.

Silence stretches as you turn your head back towards the river and watch as the sun makes its final arc before setting.

“Why are you here?” There’s no way to hide the exasperation in your voice, tired of feeling like the one that always has to back down from your own anger.

Bodhi slowly turns his face to you, as if he’s just registering your presence for the first time. But it’s the sad smile on his lips that has your own expression faltering.

“I think you know why I’m here.” Bodhi finally pipes up, though his voice is subdued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrick fall apart like this.”

His tone does nothing to quell the nerves that have seemed to bundle in your stomach, though you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“Garrick is a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. He just needs to find an open bed and he’ll be right as rain.” Your anger flaring at the possibility of this conversation.

Bodhi hums in acknowledgement of what you’ve said, though his entire posture remains in an unusual state of sadness.

“You’ve inserted yourself into a family of sorts, you know.” He continues, now glancing out towards the river, his composure turned thoughtful. “After the apostasy, we became brothers. The group of us clinging to each other to hold on to a sense of normalcy.”

“Though, Xaden took most of the burden. Which in turn, I suppose you could say, made him our de facto leader, not that he wasn’t before that.” Bodhi’s head falls slightly and begins to shake. “We’ve always let him deliver the orders. Let Xaden command us – but something you said to Garrick must’ve hit him hard.”

“He came to me the day after he tried to get into your room and failed.” He continues matter-of-factly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrick so worked up. Sure, he teases and ruffles people’s feathers, but I don’t think he’s ever had someone put him in his place so well. Never had someone to put things into perspective.”

You turn and look at Bodhi again, contemplation taking over your own features. “I like to think I’ve been patient. That I’ve been understanding, because I know about everything that has happened to your families. But I refuse to be the last priority for someone that claims to love me.”

At this point Bodhi turns and looks at you, the sad smile gracing his features again. “I know. And so does Garrick. You see the issue is not that you’re wrong. Because gods, even Garrick knows that you’re more than right. It’s really that this is the first time any one of us in Xaden’s circle has ever had to confront it.”

A dry chuckle leaves his lips. “I’m sure you’re aware that Xaden’s close circle isn’t known for their stellar relationship skills.”

You can’t help the sardonic huff that leaves you at the comment.

“So that means you’ll also realize that you were the first one to push through the ranks and become the first outsider in our mismatched family.” Bodhi leans in and gives you a knock into your shoulder. “The first one to really stay that is.”

“I’m not sure your fearless leader would agree with that.” You murmur with a raised brow.

Bodhi’s nose scrunches, trying not to show feelings about his cousin. “He’s not exactly the person you should gauge that from.”

You scoff again and Bodhi gives you a knowing smile of his own.

“But before you, there wasn’t anyone that any of us needed to prioritize outside of our own circle. Hell, most of the time we don’t even prioritize our own selves if there is something that Xaden demands.” You hum in acknowledgment knowing that you’ve seen that yourself.

“And you know Garrick, loyal to a fault. If someone asks, he’s there, possibly eating you out of house and home, but always there.” You both snicker at the mention of Garrick’s insatiable appetite.

“Knowing that, you should know how torn up he is. Not only did he fail to know you were missing and hurt, but he let you fall through the cracks. Honestly – he’s probably pacing in his room right now beating himself over all the cracks that he created himself.” Bodhi continues, your chin drops to your upturned knees, and you let yourself rest on them.

“I needed more than words.” You murmur quietly, tired of holding back everything. “I wanted him to show up for me. To show that I wasn’t last on his list for the day.”

“You’re right.” Bodhi agrees as he begins to stand. “It’s up to you if you are willing to listen to him or give him a chance at all to explain. But I wanted you to know that prioritization of our partners is something we will all need to learn, maybe even the hard way of losing the one we love. Though at the end of the day, we’re going to war, and no one knows if they are going to come home the next day – even Xaden needs to realize that.”

“And yes, Xaden is important to a lot of us, and we love him and the Sorrengail situation has added complications on top of everything. However, we can’t continue to exist on only protecting him and his interests over every relationship in our own lives.” Bodhi reaches his hand out and you bring yours up, allowing him to pull you to your feet as well. “If we stand any chance at happiness, we need to stand our ground for our own partners too.”

“So even if you never reconcile with Garrick, thank you. Thank you for saying what needed to be said, for vocalizing something we all need to realize.” With that Bodhi begins to walk back to the citadel.

You begin to follow after him, but let yourself linger, taking the time to try and absorb every single word.

‘Perhaps the cousin should be the leader. He seems to understand you humans better.’ You let out a snort at Stòlda’s comment.

‘Bodhi does seem to have a level head on his shoulders. At least he seems to realize that people have feelings.’ You comment though not really focusing on the conversation with your dragon.

As you get closer and closer to the citadel, you can’t help but feel the loom of the fortress settle in your bones. As tired as you have been since your latest torture session, you haven’t been sleeping well, phantom pains and hands keeping your mind running at night.

Arriving at the second-year floor, you take a heaving breath, the tiredness of the day beginning to settle into your bones. For some reason though your feet begin to feel even more sluggish than before, every step taking an immense amount of concentration and physical strength.

‘Something isn’t right.’ You send down your bond with Stòlda, but everything about your connenction with her seems fuzzy.

Before you can take one more step your world goes black and muffled voices ring through your mind, but you can’t make out a single one.

__________

Waking up to an uncomfortable pull between your shoulders, you try to bring your arms forward but as you tug, the rough pinch of rope jerks at the skin of your wrist. Letting out a hiss of pain, you open your eyes and all you find is a room of roughhewn stone in front of you.

Scanning the room, the only light emanating in is from a small window that is halfway to the only door. Confusion is the only thing that registers, aside from the pain between your shoulders and the rub of the rope on your skin.

Distant sounds of roars and the clash of metal has your head spinning, eyes darting left and right, though there is nothing for you to see being strapped to the chair you are in. Suddenly you register the loud pound of boots outside the door and your eyes focus, waiting for whatever danger is lurking.

A reverberating kick to the door has it splintering and you close your eyes to the onslaught of wooden shards.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” An all too familiar and cruel voice drawls from in front of you.

Drawing your gaze forward, there’s no way to hide your sneer of disgust. Your head rises as the menacing figure drawing forward, but you don’t back down from holding your head proudly.

“I never thought we’d have the marked one’s whore for a target.” The masculine voice continues to sneer as he comes face to face with you. There’s no mistaking the disdainful visage in front of you, not since you’ve spent more than enough time trying to rid yourself of him.

Kol. Second Wing’s resident menace that has caused more than his fair share of deaths in the quadrant. A bully who came to the quadrant for gore and power, not the ability to help anyone.

“I never thought I’d be subjected to your disgusting face, but here we are.” The words barely leave your mouth before the burning sting of a hand bursts across your face, head thrown to the side from the impact.

The coppery tang of blood coats your tongue and you gather everything you can and spit it directly in his face. His eyes flash and you pull on your restraints again trying to stop him as you register his fist coming up to punch you in the face. Unfortunately, the bindings have no give and the only thing you can do is take the blow. A strike of pain, hot as a branding iron flashes over your eye socket causing a moan to escape as your vision begins to blur.

“Not so tough now when your personal guard isn’t around, are you?” Kol mocks as he begins circling the chair you’re tethered in.

Even with your right eye swelling fully shut, you stare at him through blurry vision not willing to back down.

“Must be tougher than you since you had to wait until I was tied up to attack.” You taunt, though clearly that was the opposite of what you should have done.

Rage burning in his eyes, Kol unsheathes the dagger at his waist, and you rear back as he drags the tip down your arm. A muffled cry climbs your throat, but you refuse to open your mouth and let the sounds become any louder.

“I’m going to have a wonderful time breaking you, inch by inch. You’ll be begging me to stop before I’m finished with you.” Your eyes flash at Kol’s sadistic words, but you refuse to back down and succumb to his incessant taunts.

Concerning quiet has suddenly settled over the room you’re in and it brings Kol’s focus back to the door he had come through. Brows furrowing, you try to place if you did hear another pair of boots or if it was just the ringing in your ears.

“Now where were we?” Kol jeers as he slowly draws the dagger across your face. “Ah, yes, I believe we were just about to get started.” The vicious gleam in his eye has your fear ratcheting, but you refuse to let it show.

“And I believe you’re about to die.” The voice breaks through the quiet so low and menacing you feel like you may have dreamt it.

Turning your head from Kol, you squint with your good eye trying to make out the figure in the doorway, but all you can register is the man’s tall frame.

The sinister smirk that graces Kol’s face makes you realize it could only possibly be one person.

Garrick strides forward and the glint of sunlight catches on his sword as he holds it out in front of him. You try to get a clearer picture, but no matter what you try, your vision remains blurred. A jolt of panic rises through you as the familiar clink of blades meeting makes your pulse begin to race.

Here you are, tied to a chair with no access to your power or dragon, so you’ll be absolutely nothing but a liability.

“No, Garrick! Just go. You don’t need to worry about me any longer.” A male grunt registers, but the clash of steel still sings through the air.

There’s no response from either man as you hear the continued grunts of a fight and clang of metal. Though your worry grows when you hear a groan of pain and the unmistakable tear of flesh.

“Garrick!” You heave, trying to control the panic rising, continuing to pull on your restraints. “Are you alright?”

Another grunt is heard before the decisive thump of a body hitting the floor is heard. Your heart beating erratically and your breathing shallow, you continue to pull on your restraints even through the burning pain that has rubbed your skin raw.

Booted footsteps sound and your shallow breathing continues as you can only pray that Garrick is the one approaching you and not Kol. A slight whimper leaves your lips as familiar fingers trace your jawline and come to rest on your chin.

Without removing his hand, your wrists are freed and your shoulders sag at the sudden relief. Before you can take stock of the rest of your body, you feel yourself being picked up and cradled into a strong chest.

“You don’t have to carry me. I can take care of myself.” You retort, but there’s no bite to the words. They fall short of their aimed target.

“I am more-than-aware that you can take care of yourself.” Garrick replies with a softness in his voice you’ve never heard before. “But no matter where we stand, I will always want to take care of you. Even if my previous actions may contradict that statement.”

You don’t reply to his words, unsure in the moment of what to say, so you let you let your words drift to safer ground.

“How did you know I was here? How did you find me?” The words come out quieter than you expected.

Garrick takes a considering pause before replying, a soft huff leaving his lips. “If you think after the last month that I don’t know where you are at every moment of every day, you’re fooling yourself.”

A sardonic scoff leaves your mouth at this words, but you won’t deny that the conviction in his tone doesn’t have you intrigued.

“Seems silly to keep tabs on someone that you aren’t with any longer.” Your lips thin as the words slip out before you can stop them.

Your body slightly jostles as Garrick comes to a stop. “I know you may not believe me. Honestly, after everything, I wouldn’t expect you to, but you haven’t stopped being the singular most important person in my life.”

You try to focus on Garrick’s face as he keeps speaking, but your vision still refuses to clear. “This isn’t the time to have the whole conversation that I want to have with you. But I need you to know that if you will let me prove to you that you are my priority, I will not let you regret it.”

Without waiting for your reply, Garrick begins walking again and soon the warmth of the sun greets you. The swift kick of the wind licks at your face, as well as the sounds of wing beats. It’s the sudden realization of everything going on around you that causes you to gasp.

“I can’t feel Stòlda.” You murmur to Garrick, unsure of if anyone else is around.

“What do you mean you can’t feel her?” Garrick questions with clear worry in his voice.

“Exactly that. I woke up tied to that chair and unable to feel our bond.” Garrick’s grip tightens on you as you hear the distinct sound of wings getting closer and closer.

“Let’s get you to the healers as soon as possible and I’ll find out what’s going on.” Garrick confirms, clearly beginning to mount Chradh.

“Are you sure Chradh is alright with you carrying me?” You can’t help but question, trying to pull out of his grip.

“Of course he is. He knows how much you mean to me. And besides, Stòlda ordered him to bring you to safety.” As he finishes, Garrick carefully plants you in the seat on Chradh’s back in front of him.

Wrapping his arms tightly around you, he grips the pommel in front of you, not letting you jostle in any way. You close your eyes at the onslaught of the wind against your battered face, turning your head as far into Garrick’s shoulder as you possibly can to conceal yourself, to push away the sharp sting of the wind. You try not to breathe in the familiar scent of the man that has you wrapped in his arms, but its impossible to ignore the scent of leather, steel, and something distinctly him, a comforting presence that you loathe to have to give up again. Involuntarily, you take a deep breath, inhaling him and the strength that he radiates, every inch of him a balm to your frayed nerves.

Even though every movement he makes is completely controlled, there is no way to mistake the rapid heartbeat thumping through your ears. You don’t let yourself get wrapped up in the thought, because its most likely just from the adrenaline from the fight. Soon enough, you feel the pull of Chradh’s wings as he begins to slow and land.

Garrick unwraps his arms and you go to begin to lever yourself off of Chradh, but before you move two steps, you feel the way the brown dragon begins to shift even further to the ground. Unsure whether to move or not, you stand still until Garrick’s caloused hand is gently guiding your arm down.

Vision still blurry, its impossible to truly make sense of the people standing around you, but the next voice you hear is unmistakeable.

“Tavis, take the egg. I need to check on Sorrengail.” Xaden’s voice booms over the chaos that is breaking out around you, his strides towards Garrick carrying a weight that you never miss.

“No.” Garrick’s voice carries an edge of steel, firm and unyeilding, something that you’ve never heard before, especially not directed at Xaden, his best friend and superior officer. “Get Graves or Scharf to deal with it.”

There’s no missing the look of venom Xaden sends Garrick’s way, even with your terrible vision. “I said take the egg, that’s an order from your Wingleader.” Xaden’s voice hardens, an edge that dares Garrick to defy him. The air between them turns charged, the tension building like a storm cloud.

Not wanting Garrick to be punished or let this get out of hand, you start to maneuver your legs out of Garrick’s hold, but instead of letting you down, he only holds tighter.

“Stay right where you are.” Garrick directs at you, tone gentle, though his focus never leaves the glaring Wingleader.

“She’s more important than that damn egg.” Garrick continues, his tone never losing the steel, the tone of immovablility. “And this time my priorities will be clear. Sorrengail is your responsibility, as Y/N is mine. I’ve come to heel regarding Sorrengail too many times at her expense. I won’t do it anymore.”

Without waiting on Xaden’s response, Garrick’s steps continue towards the fortress, controlled and measured. Each click of his boots a smattering of both pressure and relief.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Garrick. I can get someone else to take me to the healers.” Your tone is quiet, tired, beaten down. The adrenaline and energy from the battle beginning to drain from your body.

Looking up to Garrick’s face, you can see the muscle in his jaw feather as his footsteps begin to slow. Your arms drop from around his neck as you try to move away from him, but before you even have an inch between you, Garrick’s grip tightens again. His hands keeping you firmly tethered to his side, his eyes coming down to stare into your own.

“You aren’t getting anyone else to take you. You aren’t leaving my side. And I don’t give a fucking shit if Xaden never talks to me again.” His feet begin moving again and before you have the chance to reply, the familiar scent of the Healer’s Ward comes floating through the air.

Garrick walks confidently to the nearest open cot, before he steps away to beckon the nearest healer.

“Oh my dear.” A sweet female voice floats through the air. “I didn’t expect to see you in here again so soon. Though I’m glad there’s someone with you this time.”

You give her the semblence of a tired smile, but there’s no warmth there. Nothing happy fills you as you wait to hear the retreating footsteps of Garrick’s boots.

She stands in front of you checking you from head to toe, taking time to put a salve on your swollen eye. “I’m going to get Nolon and see if he can assist with taking away some of the inflamation so you can at least see out of one eye.”

“Before you leave, can you also ask if there’s something that was given to me before war games?” Your tone comes out pleading, the silence in your mind between you and your dragon weighing on you. “For some reason I’m unsure of, my bond is gone. Or it feels like it has been severed somehow.”

The healer looks back at you, a look that says she knows exactly what you speak of and that she doesn’t agree with it one bit.

“I’ll get everything you need while I find Nolon. We’ll get some of your vision back in order and you’ll have your dragon back in no time.” She says with a confidence you don’t feel.

Shaking your head in acknowledgment, you let your head fall back to the pillow behind you, eyes closed to keep away the blur of your vision. Taking a deep breath, you try to keep the emotions roiling inside at bay. There’s no reason to cry, or to rage, you know that it won’t fix anything in your failed relationship.

The quiet of the ward greets your ears and you try to breathe through the hazy thoughts of the day, but warmth gliding over your hand has your eyes popping open.

Mouth widening slightly, you look up to see the blurry figure of Garrick standing over you, his fingers intertwined with yours, stroking the back of your knuckles.

“You – you can go.” You confirm, your voice small, even to your own ears. “I’m sure you have more important things to tend to.”

The stroking on your knuckles comes to a quick halt and you close your eyes, not wanting to watch Garrick turn his back on you again. But your eyes open again when you feel the bed next to you dip and a warm, calloused hand cup your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Garrick’s voice is quiet, subdued in a way you’ve never heard before. “I heard everything you said. And I saw everything you didn’t.”

He starts, but stops in a way that indicates he’s unsure on how to continue.

“I failed.” He exhales. “Failed you spectacularly in every single way I could.” He shakes his head as if unbelieving of his own actions. The movement causing your throat to catch, unsure of where this conversation is headed.

“I took advantage of the fact that you’ve always been able to take care of yourself. Always been strong, even before you were mine.” He scoffs, irritated with himself. “But I took your strength for granted. Made it mean that you didn’t need me, not really. Not in the way that mattered.”

“I chose to make our relationship secondary. To let you bleed to the back of my life, when in my mind you were always the front.” Garrick’s thumb begins to stroke your cheek as his voice becomes reflective. “In the end though, my actions spoke far louder than any of my words. I told you that you were my world, and you still are. Always will be. But I never treated you that way. I never put you before what I considered my duty.”

Rising from the bed, Garrick begins pacing, as though the words can only come if he keeps moving, if he keeps himself in the reflective moment he seems to be caught up in.

“I’ve always followed Xaden. Always been his right hand. Just like my dad was Fen’s. But never once did I ever stop and really look to see what that meant. How the rest of the people in my life fit into that dynamic. Never had to.” He pauses, eyes coming back to find yours.

“That was until you came around.” He says coming back towards you. “Not until you made me begin to question things. Question what I was trying to prove, why I was always the one following orders, not giving some of my own. I let my own life fade into unimportance, everything that wasn’t detrimental to the mission quickly forgotten.”

“You taught me that. The way you left me standing in the courtyard, devastated that the one piece of my life that truly mattered slipped through my fingers at my own doing.” The way his eyes glaze begins to pull at the ropes tied tightly around your heart. “Every single moment of happiness that I’ve experienced with you drowned out by the realization that I tore everything apart. The weight on my chest from not knowing you were hurt, not knowing that I could’ve lost you and I would’ve been none the wiser. I’ll never forgive myself.”

Its then that the healer comes strolling back in, causing Garrick to step back away from your cot.

“Sorry to disturb.” An aged male voice greets as you see Nolon walk into the room behind the healer. “But I’m sure you’ll both be glad to get back to the rider’s quadrant quickly after this. After all, I believe there will be raucous celebrations tonight.”

You give him a tight smile as he stops when he’s flush with your cot. “I’ll be able to calm some of the inflammation, but the bruising will still be there for some time. But before we begin, go ahead and take this.” Nolon finishes as he brings a small vial forward with a clear liquid.

You nod your head in understanding and take the vial from him. Knocking the liquid back, you swallow and lay your head back down and he raises his hands to your face. The power of mending begins to pass through your body and there’s no way to stop your body from tensing through the pain. Your jaw clenched, your hands fall to the sheets below you, and you grip them with white knuckles.

The feeling of a large palm covering your hand has you releasing its tight grip, but soon regaining it intertwined in Garrick’s hand. You try not to squeeze too hard, but as the zip of mending continues the pulsing pain around your eye, you can’t help the whimper of pain. Though instead of your hand tightening further in Garrick’s, his curls around yours harder as if trying to take the pain for himself.

A few more minutes tick by before the magic around your face begins to fade and you are able to open your unaffected eye with clear vision. As you blink the sting of tears away, you are finally able to see Garrick clearly and you can’t help the way your breath catches at the sight.

Gone is the stoic leader who exudes power and strength, in his place is a man that looks wrecked from sleepless nights and personal torment. It’s impossible for you not to reach for him, your hand that he still has in his pulling him forward. Your other hand rises as he shifts to his knees next to your cot and goes to his face, cupping and stroking his stubbled cheek. Garrick surprises you by leaning into your touch, his eyes closing at the tenderness you’ve given him.

Your vision narrows to the sorrowful man in front of you, your eyes unable to move from his dim ones. Eyes that normally shone a bright gold and flecked with greens as deep as emeralds. The color has now dimmed to a dull honey, every single speck darkened to almost black.

“How did we get here?” You voice comes out as a rasp, a sound unlike your normally smooth tone.

Garrick’s eyes close as if overcome with emotion from your question.

“Letting anyone or anything come before you will always be my greatest regret. I just hope that someday, somehow you will be able to let me atone for every way I’ve failed you. Failed us.” The spark of hopefulness in his words put a sad smile on your face.

Garrick continues to burrow his face in your hand, a man starved for the only touch he’s been craving.

“What about Xaden and Sorrengail?” You ask, the question the thing that keeps you from willingly folding into the arms of the man in front of you.

“I’ll always try to protect them both, but I refuse to do it again at the expense of you. As I told Xaden, you are my responsibility. The only person I want to take care of.” He exhales the breath he seemed to be holding. “Never again will you feel like you aren’t my priority. Never again will you think you are less than the most important person in my life.”

Your hand snakes around the back of Garrick’s neck and you pull his face to yours, resting your foreheads together.

“Then take me back to my room, Section Leader.” There’s no mistaking the way Garrick tenses in your arms, his entire body ready for a blow that you know will never come. You can feel the way the wind whooshes out of him, an exhale believing that you are completely lost to him.

Garrick slowly nods and begins to stand. He holds his hand out and helps you rise from the cot. Wincing as the pull of the mending tugs at you, but you hold steady on your feet.

The silence between you grows thicker and thicker as you both continue back to the riders quadrant. Garrick’s footsteps click, though you can hear the hesitation in even those. As you ascend the stairs, his hand tightens on yours, the last seeming vestibule of your relationship that he is trying in every way not to lose.

Entering the landing of the second-year floor, you trudge to your door, pulling along a hesitant Garrick. You let your hand turn, the click of your lock unmistakable and Garrick pulls in a shaky breath behind you. A small smile gracing your lips, you pull him forward, his brows pulling in with confusion.

“I’m giving you a chance.” You state with conviction, turning as Garrick continues to grip your hand as a vice. “One chance. Prove yourself. Prove that you will put our relationship and yourself before the weight of the rest of the world, because at the end of the day, the world will only crush you if you let it.”

Before you have time to blink, your breath leaves your lungs as you are tugged against a hard chest. Garrick’s arms encircling your waist in a punishing grip, his face buried into the top of your hair.

“I will spend every day proving that you are my priority. You are my one love, my partner and the singular person I will drop anything and everything for.” The words rush out of Garrick, the singular conviction in his tone obvious.

Backing up one step, you are caught off guard again when Garrick’s lips slam into yours. The kiss claiming in a way that you’ve never experienced before. The desperation, hope, and utter happiness leaching through every movement of his lips on yours.

He lifts you up by your thighs and your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, his strong arms balancing your weight with ease. A smile breaks out over your lips and as you part, you don’t miss the dimple, that is your undoing, making an appearance.

Your hands stroke his cheeks as you watch the light slowly climb back into his eyes, the tension seeming to melt from every pore. Smiling back at each other, you refuse to focus on anything but the hope that has settled in your bones.

Hope for Garrick’s commitment. Hope for peace. Hope for your future. And finally, the hope that you will never be without the man you’re wrapped around ever again.

Divider: @empyreanevents

Taglist: @ilovetomtailor @nevermoresworld @nastylicious @iambored24601 @mysticalfuncollectorus @sadpieceofbread @alwayshave-faith

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #the empyrean #the empyrean fanfic #garrick tavis #fourth wing #iron flame #garrick tavis x reader #garrick fourth wing #garrick x reader #onyx storm #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fic #chradh #iron flame fanfic #garrick tavis imagine

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biteyoubiteme · 5 months ago

Text

bitten

beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis: it’s been a century since the last youve seen him, why come back now?

warnings: 🔞!!! vampire!beomgyu, vampire!reader, mentions of blood, blood drinking, biting, angst, mentions of a break up,mentions of bite mark scars, a bit of soulmate trope, oral (f!rec), no protection,mentions of subspace, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3.8k (now this flung the 2k limit out the window )

an: thank you for the request! I hope that this captured the essence of the request because vamp!gyu was consuming my thoughts after I read those lines. I love vampire fics and im so sad I don't have more on my page already and this was the perfect time to add one. not proofread im so sorry my sweet angel darlings have mercy on me and forgive me of any mistakes found.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

The bar was dark enough to keep the bruised necks and wrists of the occasional lost traveler hidden. Spots of blood dripped onto crisp white shirts scenting the air in coppery sweetness. It was a sickening smell to those who didn't need to feed, the alcohol keeping the rest of the occupants held over enough to ignore the twinge.

You didn't come to places like this often, the back room filled with half-drunk vampires and humans, desperately grasping at each other as they took from one another. Even the drinks didn't call to you, not when he wasn't standing there behind the bar passing them to you, constantly working his eyes up your body like a desperate plea to have even a taste. He hadn't been turned then, not when you first met. The pull towards you always accounted for the fact you were tainted with blood lust. A moth to a flame, he felt that pull, your hunger enough to send him right into the fire without even glancing at him.

It wasn't often that a human found themselves offering their bodies up to vampires. Most of them felt the hair rise on the back of their necks, the prickling of fear telling them that whoever was standing just round the corner was a wolf in perfectly tailored sheeps clothing, how tight that human look held onto you after your change. The uncanny glow seeping that poisonous warning off in waves, a trap waiting for the truly reckless to trip.

The ones who wandered closer instead of away always found themselves in the back of bars like this, bruised and hazy eyed laying in beds done up in silk and candlelight. Beomgyu, although working behind the bar for years knew never to offer himself up to the ones who sunk his stomach, that warning to run ringing in his ears as he slid a drink across the hardwood. But you, the second the door had pushed open and your skin washed in that low down glow, tripped him up; your waiting trap snapping shut around him like a rib cage around fluttering lungs. Even the echo of fading hoof beats on stone sounded so close to the beating of his heart that he couldn't tell the difference between flight and flush.

But that had been years ago, so many that you couldn't even remember the shade of his irises. You remember they were brown, staring up at ceilings casing empty houses trying and failing to conger up the image. Well over a century's worth of time to hate yourself for forgetting the one thing that drew you in at first glance. But it wasn't as if you didn't try to work your way through the fading memories of him, all flickering by like the passing pages of a notebook you forgot you wrote and held so dearly. All you could see was that empty bed, the sugary taste of his blood still on your tongue, your breast still tender from where he bit you over your heart, so hard the soft outline of his teeth, like a stain you desperately wanted to rid yourself of.

You had come here, back to this bar only three times after he had left to check in. That night with tears in your eyes, heart crumbling, the second taehyun had confessed that beomgyu was gone, packed up with only a shrugged goodbye. “He said he doesn't know when he will be back,”

You had waited ten years to return the next time, so little time when you counted decades like snowflakes, not the glass shattering hail you assumed beomgyu would have still thought of as a recently turned fledgling. But no one had seen him, heard from him, hardly even thought of him. But he plagued you, ran around your head until you could taste the blood coming from overworked joints.

The third time was no better, not when you entered and Taehyun shook his head, apologizing for a friend he wouldn't recognize anymore.

You had given up, moved away, and swore to never think about beomgyu and his puppy stare. That follow you everywhere look that seeped into your bones and begged you to never turn away from him. Only now you were back, sitting in the far corner you fell in love, sinking into the leather seat wishing you could have that first glance back.

Taehyun felt pity when he saw you, knew that you had been locked away in some house countries away, only sending in orders for blood long since cold. He poured you a glass, the same drink you asked for with tears in your eyes that first night back alone, chugging so many of them back he's sure your blood tasted of fire, too sour, burning all the way down one's throat.

“Thank you,” neither of you wanted to bring Beomgyu up but he was the first thing on both of your minds.

“He hasn't-”

“I don't care,” you tossed back your drink, the ripples of mixed in blood making your fangs tingle, ready to push through soft gums and piece flesh not yet provided. It's why you came. Tired of the empty flavored pints of blood brought to you by Soobin and his sorry eyes. You hadn't put your mouth on anyone since that night, not even when it felt as if you had been scooped out with a spoon, carved open, and laid bare from hunger. If it wasn't him you would have nobody.

But that declaration was a century ago, so many cold cups later it was tiring to swallow another. “I want a girl, preferably quiet, business only,” Taehyun nodded to your order, already knowing the best pick.

“Room 615, she can be brought back in about thirty minutes,” there was no room for judgment, not after the years of working behind this counter, sneaking into those beds just like everyone else had. But he knew what it took from someone who hated to drink from a vein, it's why they had the services, those who couldn't go out and find someone or someones to keep up a constant full belly.

But human blood wasn't the same as drinking from a vampire, humans went out too quickly, blinking back their faintness, never able to take more than a few deep pulls before they were at capacity. Feeding from vampires was anything but a rush, that first mouthful was a wash of exhilaration. It made one dependent on each other, one taste and it was never the same. Taehyun could tell Beomgyu and you drank from each other. Could see it in the years after, the way you turned your nose up even at the bitter drink in your glass.

You would never feel full again unless you had him back.

Thirty minutes was enough time to go home and call soobin for a late night order. But your hunger was clawing up your throat, nails on a chalkboard begging for anything else. Having the time to think, sitting here, filled your mouth with the memory of him. Not just the taste of his blood but the faint drum of his turned heartbeat. You still remember the sound his human heart made. The way it pattered at the sight of you, that irregular beat speeding up every time you sat down in front of him, entered through the cherrywood door.

How even after you had turned him his heart still acted as if it was tied to your presence, fluttering weakly even if it was all it could muster.

It was that sound that made you turn, conjured up from memory only now to show up right behind you. Taehyun was frozen, face pale at the sight of his lost friend. He had only seen him once or twice after he had been turned but now he was no half human fledgling.

Beomgyu and you were caught in a web of your own disastrous weaving, stuck in place witnessing the crumbling of love because seeing him only settled the grievances you held into stone.

He wasn't hollow like you were, empty from the time left alone, the bloodlust having fully settled over his skin making him shine in that uncanny beauty. Everything about his gentle human features has been frozen in place, the warmth in his brown eyes only enhanced in the light. How sickening to have to now face the reality of what you had done to him, what he must have run from once he realized he couldn't truly love the monster who infected him.

It wasn't the butterflies of newfound love but sickening maggots wriggling in your stomach. You stumbled as you stood, not even worrying about the key taehyun had left for you next to your drink, not even a meal could keep you from running as far as you could.

It had been too long for him to come back when you had given up on trying to wait for him. How many nights had been spent waiting for this exact moment? Only now for you to run away. How cruel fate could be.

He was calling your name, that twinge of hurt mixed in with something close to pity, every syllable weaved through with the words, no, don't do this, don't make me feel sorry. Even his voice made you waver, the back and forth shake of your head confusing you as you walked down the wrong hallway.

Even through the doors, you could smell the blood from the occupants behind them, like overripe fruit left to sit on the counter, nothing smelled the same after one drop from him. And now with Beomgyu right behind you, weak heartbeat still mimicking that first sight, it was impossible not to pinpoint the smell of him. Wrapping around you like fog; a haze you tried desperately to claw your way out of but you knew it was no use. You had never felt so hungry until then, carved clean through with the need.

“Please, let me explain,” he tried, grasping at straws. He didn't intend to see you first, only planned on catching up with Taehyun and apologizing for leaving him behind without answers. Save this conversation for when he built up the courage. “Please,”

His fingertips only brushed your arm, the shock of it going right down to your toes. It was instinct to turn and slap his hand away, and even in your exasperated exhale, that first acknowledgment was enough to make Beomgyu weak again, as if he had ever been anything but when attached to you. “What is there to explain? You left, you left me there, alone in our bed,”

“I-” The words were stuck in his mouth, hanging right at the edge of his tongue and yet all that came up was a frustrated laugh, “well did you miss me?” even just hearing his own words he could tell you would fume.

“Did I mi- you left me! You fucking left me, if anything now I just hate you,”

It was so easy to fall back into it with you, as if you had woken up alone a few days ago not centuries, “look what you did to me. What I've become, don't act as if you're so innocent in this, don't blame me for decisions we both made,”

The words felt like a slap in the face. That night you had turned him so clear in your mind, the way he had begged, the way he had burned. It was one of the hardest things you had ever done, most vampires went their whole lifetime without infecting anyone because of how hard it was to complete and yet you had.

“I turned you after you asked me. Do you know how much it takes? And then like some love-sick fool, I drank from you and every day I think about how stupid I was to believe you would stay. After I left behind everything I knew just so that I could have some human boy stay with me. How pathetic,” the last word was thick, sticking to your throat and pulling your tears forward. “You should go back to wherever you ran away to, climb into some feeders bed to keep warm for all I care,”

You turned, ready to close the door on a life you wished you had. The one you begged for after nights spent alone clinging to the sheets that still smelled of him. But Beomgyu wouldn't have it, his grip tight on your wrist as he pulled you back, “It was never about changing me, I left because I wanted to know if it was real- that intensity was so…consuming, I was scared and so I ran. I ran and I looked for some way to replicate it because I'm a fucking fool who can't see right in front of himself. You made me addicted to you, I begged you to do this to me and yet I ran. Im sorry,”

“You can say that but you stayed away so long I'm sure you found some poor soul to swallow down by the mouthful,” he could feel your resentment coiling around him, snapping back at his desperate attempt to explain. Because there was no way for him to get the words out, even after running them around his head for the years he had lost all because of his own fear.

That night was stuck right behind his eyelids, replaying over and over. Your body pressed to his, soundlessly sleeping as he looked up at your shared canopy bed. Your blood was still singing through his body, staining his perception of life before you. He didn't know he could be so utterly infected by someone so much so that it colored his sky differently. Your soft breathing was enough to tear him apart, he wanted countless nights spent exactly like that one, just watching you, listening to you sleep. And it scared him. He thought humans had been over-emotional, feeling things as they came, wallowing in them because they had little time to let it spread out. But he was wrong, he hadn't known how full the world felt, how full he was after one drop of love from you. And now he was empty, starved clean from his own doing. “I was ashamed,”

The confession was so quiet matching your question, “And now?”

Beomgyu looked up from under his lashes, he was close enough now that your scent was suffocating him, begging him to give in and just sink his teeth right over your heart. Find the same place they had last been because no one had been able to tempt him to even pull his fangs down, not since you. “And now I'm starving,”

Even just the word from his mouth made your fangs ache. You had been getting by on so little for so long. He was the only thing your body needed and you knew he must feel the same. Your mouth was filled with saliva, that venom that numbed prey or set them ablaze. You tried to swallow but you could already taste him, the movement of your throat making his eyes zero in on your pulse. You were no better watching his adam’s apple bob, connecting the dots on long since gone trails of hickeys you’d left before.

Neither of you knew who moved first, moaning against lips you were sure you’d never kiss again. His sweet venom singing on your tongue. His hands were heavy on your body, pulling you closer as he pushed you against the hallway wall. He wanted to melt into you, his desperation crawling up his skin, hips keeping you in place.

You chuckled into his mouth, the sound rattling in the back of his throat like a prayer he wanted to keep to himself. “You always did get hard from kissing,” his whimper in response is followed by the grind of his bulge against you. How fast his body reacted to your touch didn’t change when he did.

His heart was picking up speed, your fingers running through his hair, the groves of your fingertips slotting back into place amongst the strands. Beomgyu’s fangs were already elongating, nipping your bottom lip. He had always felt so good about his self-control, accounting those early days of overfeeding on you for the simple fact of being so recently changed, he should have known you were the variable that cracked the hold he had on himself. It was only worse now that he'd nicked you enough to mix blood into the kiss, his throaty moan rumbling against your body, sinking into your soul.

You're both stumbling to find a room, twisting knobs until you find an empty one. The silk bed envelops the both of you as you fall into it, peeling off layers of clothes. Beomgyu can smell your sweet arousal between your legs the second he's pushed them apart to kneel between.

“Now look at this,” you can feel the pad of his thumb running over the bite mark scars he's left on your inner thigh, his grin wicked enough to make your knees twitch. “I wonder if your pretty cunt will remember me as well as your skin has,”

“You're impossible to forget,” and when you expected him to bite you, following the pattern of his usual ravishing but he skipped it, shocking you with his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking deeply.

His mouth is on a direct line to your spine, your back arching off the bed. His tongue is hot on you, tracing the lines of your folds, and moaning into your slick. He missed these desperate whines you let slip, the perfect backtrack to the messy slurping sounds he's started. You hadn't even realized how much you had missed his mouth, your fingers twisting into his hair the second he brushed a fang against your swollen bud. He loved to tease but it had been too long since you felt your orgasm rise so fast.

Beomgyu was eating you like he missed your pussy, your stomach tightening, hips sinking into the sheets. It only takes a few more precise sucks with his puffy lips before your toes are curling, eyes rolling back as you cum for him. His chuckle vibrates against you before he pulls away, chin shining with your wetness. “I missed the taste of you,”

He hasn't even tried to find someone else to take care of his needs, not when he knew no other cunt could compare to the way yours perfectly molded to him, sucking him in to the hilt. The memory alone is what had him rushing to get inside of you, cock already leaking rivets of precum.

You've never felt so needy in your life, fangs and pussy aching for him. The drag of his tip from your clit to your weeping entrance makes your knees fall open. One of his hands guides himself to push into you and the other tenderly holds your hip in place. Your mouth drops open at the stretch, slow as he lets you take in the feeling, needing you to remember how full he kept you.

Beomgyu whines, breath quickening as he shoves in the last few inches. He lets his body fall onto yours, needing to be closer, needing to drag his lips over your neck, teeth scratching at your pulse, “say it again, tell me how much you hate me,”

But he knows you can hardly speak, your legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him down closer. “Shut up,” you gasp, his hips rolling against yours.

“then beg me,” he doesn’t even have to say for what. Not when your neck is rolling back to give him better access to your vein, his lips brushing against your skin with each word. “If you don’t hate me, beg me to taste you. I know you remember how much I love to mix the flavor of your blood with your cum still in my mouth,”

As many times as he's crossed your mind, thinking about his fangs in your neck was something that would never compare to the moment they finally sunk in. You had never let anyone feed from you, not until he was there in front of you pleading. You were no better, not after you had changed him, needing to drain him of almost everything. But with one nod he was biting you.

Beomgyu’s mouth was flooded with your blood, the familiar flavor of iron mixed with the undercurrent of sweet delicacy. He’d dream about the first bite, mouth tingling, fangs brought forward on nothing but the memory of you. Now he was ravenous, so shocked by his own hunger with its pounding fists on nailed shut doors. His hips stuttered in his thrusting, caught on the ecstasy of quenched starvation.

You felt your mind slip into that hazy space, anything he asked would be answered, every action would be taken, and all you knew was him and him alone. To have that numbing venom injected into your bloodstream was enough to break even the strongest down into puddles of simmering whimpers.

It was hard to pull away and keep himself from overfeeding like he wished he could. But he felt his orgasm cresting, stomach flexing as his balls tightened. Beomgyu shoved his wrist to your waiting lips, your fangs stinging as they pierced his weak flesh. You drank deeply, thick swallows of the ichor you had prayed to get back on your tongue.

Everything was crashing down around you, beomgyu groaning as you clenched around him, fluttering walls sucking him in as you came, taking everything he had to give. He was a mess of moans, clinging to you as if that could keep him grounded when he felt this good. Every slow shallow thrust only pushes his cum further into you, still being pulled from him with every pulse of your greedy pussy.

Neither of you can believe how lost you had become, falling into each other like stars crashing into nothing but pooling darkness, so full of energy the only option was to collapse. And it's just what you did, twisting into each other's hold, beomgyu’s kisses pressed over the puncture marks he's made on you, nose brushing up and down your skin trying to keep your scent close.

Breathing evening you fought back the worry settling in. He had left before, walked right out the door without you knowing anything wrong had been on his mind, what was keeping him from doing it all over again?

“Stop thinking,” he muttered, mouth finding yours, mixing the flavors of your blood together as he kissed you. “I don't think I could find it in myself to ever leave again,” but he was pulling away, his playful smirk lingering on his lip cleansing your worrying mind if even for a movement. “How could I ever leave again after seeing how happy and full you are after only one round?” he pulled his still hard cock from you, the gush of cum slipping out, pooling on his ready fingers only to shove them right back into your waiting cunt. “No, nothing could keep me from this sight ever again,”

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#cams!1kevent #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu #choi beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt smut #yeonjun #soobin #taehyun #hueningkai

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0omillo0 · 5 months ago

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Your fics are so good literally I check this place every day. I would mainline skz angst fics if I could. Angst/hurt/comfort PLEASE. Hyunjin one where reader was in an abusive relationship in the past and they get into an argument that was really miscommunication and Hyunjin like, doesn’t raise his fists but like turns around fast or something and spooks reader and they run off, no phone no keys no nothing. Pure flight mode.

Hyunjin x reader ; angst -> comfort

warnings: abusive ex, mention of fighting

a/n: I’ve FINALLY finished school I’m so tired, but I’m happy I can write all your requests now! (thank you xoxo). also thank you for requesting this! It’s the same problem I have so it was comforting writing this

•

It wasn’t Hyunjin’s fault.

You kept telling yourself that, repeating it silently, like a mantra, as the tension between you both began to rise. The words in your head sounded steady, but your body didn’t believe them. The weight pressing on your chest grew heavier with each exchanged word, with every flicker of frustration in his voice.

Hyunjin was nothing like him.

But no matter how hard you tried, the past didn’t stay buried.

Your ex had turned arguments into weapons. He had wielded raised voices like shackles, holding you captive. Apologies had come like clockwork after the damage was done, hollow promises that nothing would change. It had taken years to leave—years to find your way out of the cycle. And when you met Hyunjin, with his kind heart and gentle soul, you’d believed healing was possible.

You wanted so desperately to believe it.

The argument started over something small, something so inconsequential you barely remembered how it had begun. You’d mentioned the groceries—how there were none left at home—and he had bristled.

“I can’t do everything, Y/N,” he said sharply, barely glancing up from where he stood at the counter, his voice carrying an edge that made you pause.

It took a moment for you to respond. “I didn’t say you had to. I was just—”

“You were just what?” He turned then, meeting your gaze with frustration flickering in his dark eyes. “Pointing out another thing I forgot? Adding it to the list?”

The words hit you like a wave, unsteadying your footing. Your heart sank as you studied his expression.

“That’s not fair,” you said quietly, your tone cautious now. “I wasn’t trying to blame you for anything.”

“Well, it sure sounded like it.” He ran a hand through his hair, his voice lower now but no less biting.

You took a step forward, something twisting painfully inside you. “Why are you acting like this?” you asked, your voice rising slightly. You hated the tremor that betrayed you, hated that you already felt like you were losing control.

“I’m not acting like anything!” he shot back, his voice louder now, filling the space between you. “Why do you always have to push? Why can’t you just let things go?”

“Because I care about you, Hyunjin! I care when you’re upset, and I don’t know why you won’t just tell me what’s wrong!”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he turned his head, shaking it in disbelief. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Did you think of that?”

The words cut deeper than you expected, the sharpness in his tone stealing the air from your lungs.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your help!” he interrupted, his voice breaking into a shout.

You flinched at the sound, the echo of it slamming into you like a freight train. Your heart was pounding now, your breath coming shorter. Your feet shuffled backward, almost on instinct, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“God, you act like you need to fix everything,” he continued, his frustration spilling out unchecked. “Like you need to fix me.”

Your breath hitched, and the room around you seemed to shift. For a moment, Hyunjin’s voice wasn’t his—it was someone else’s. Someone whose words were weapons. Someone who’d told you time and time again that you were the problem.

“I don’t want to fix you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “I just want to understand.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need you to understand!” His voice broke again, louder this time, frustration and exhaustion tangled together in every syllable.

And then it happened.

Hyunjin turned sharply, his hand flying up to rake through his hair in agitation. The movement was sudden, unintentional, but your body didn’t care. Your mind didn’t stop to think.

You ran.

You didn’t even remember the door slamming behind you, your bare feet hitting the pavement as you fled into the cold night air.

The streets blurred as you moved, the echo of his voice—louder, sharper than you’d ever heard it—ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, your breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. You didn’t stop to grab your keys or your phone. You didn’t stop to think about where you were going.

The only thought in your mind was to escape.

The cold pavement stung your feet, but you barely felt it. The thin fabric of your shirt did nothing to shield you from the biting wind, but you didn’t care. The fear clawing at your chest was louder than anything else.

You didn’t stop until your legs gave out beneath you, your body collapsing onto a park bench in the middle of nowhere. The silence around you was deafening, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths.

You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as tears spilled down your face. The trembling in your hands wouldn’t stop, no matter how tightly you clutched at your arms.

“I’m so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice breaking between sobs. “He’s not like that. He’d never—”

But the fear wouldn’t let go.

When Hyunjin realized you were gone, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. The door was ajar, swaying slightly in the wind. The apartment felt empty without you there.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice laced with panic as he grabbed his coat and bolted into the night.

He searched everywhere he could think of: the café you loved, the little bookstore down the street, the convenience store on the corner.

But you weren’t there.

He called your name again and again, his voice growing hoarse as the minutes dragged on.

And then he saw you.

You were curled up on a bench beneath a flickering streetlight, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Y/N!” he shouted, relief and guilt flooding his chest as he ran toward you.

Your head snapped up, your tear-streaked face locking onto his. For a moment, you tensed, your body shrinking back as if to protect itself.

“It’s me,” he said softly, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

He approached slowly, his heart breaking at the sight of you. “Can I come closer?”

You nodded after a moment, your breaths shaky.

He knelt in front of you, his hands hovering uncertainly before he reached out to place his coat over your trembling shoulders. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “God, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not your fault,” you cut in, your voice barely audible. “I panicked. It’s—it’s my past. I just…” You couldn’t finish, fresh tears spilling over.

Hyunjin reached for your hands, his own trembling as he held them gently. “I don’t care how long it takes, or what it takes—I’ll do whatever I need to so you feel safe again. Please, just let me take you home.”

The apartment felt warmer when you returned, but you still shivered beneath the blanket Hyunjin had wrapped around you. He made tea in silence, his movements slow and careful, as if afraid to startle you.

When he finally sat beside you, he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I want to know,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I want to understand what you’ve been through. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But when you saw the worry in his eyes, the love that hadn’t wavered despite everything, you told him.

You told him everything.

Hyunjin listened without interrupting, his hands gripping yours tightly.

“I’ll never raise my voice like that again,” he said when you finished, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll never make you feel unsafe. I swear.”

You nodded, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around you. You let yourself believe him.

tags: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x y/n #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin angst #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #straykids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids hyunjin

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theseinfernalangels · 10 days ago

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xaden and 33? i love your writing sm <3

33: An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

A/N: Thank you!! I’ve never written for Xaden before, so I hope this is halfway decent 🥲

Knives? Check. Waterskin? Check. Goggles? Check. Extra roll of bandages for when you unceremoniously roll your ankles? Check.

You pat yourself down for a third time, brushing your hands down your flight leathers and tightening the buckles by your arms unconsciously. Or was it a fourth time? You’ve lost count, honestly. It’s not like this will be a huge class of maneuvers by any means, but a little voice in the back of your head kept telling you to check over and over again — and you needed it to stop.

“It’s not me,” Léith grumbles, “So I am not sure why you are so intent on appeasing it. You have everything, Little Flame. Now get out here — your squadmates are starting to gather.”

“Right,” you mumble, rising to your feet. “I’m sorry. I just feel like I’m forgetting something important.”

You turn back around, digging through your bag once more and jabbing each item with your finger. You know you have everything. If you didn’t pack it, then Xaden certainly did it for you — so why did you have a nagging feeling that something was missing?

“I know that look,” a voice drawls from behind you. Almost instantly, your shoulders sag a little in relief, and you turn to see the aforementioned man leaning against the threshold to your room, arms crossed and a scarred eyebrow raised knowingly. “What’s wrong, love?”

You sigh, tugging the strings shut and hauling it to your shoulders. “It’s nothing. I just have that nagging feeling that forgetting something, even though I know I’m not.”

A little smirk quirks at the corner of Xaden’s lips. He pushes himself from against the doorframe to stand before you, carefully brushing your hair from your face before hovering a hand over your bag in question. “Let me check?”

You concede and allow him to tug it gently from your arms, prying it open and looking over the contents. After a moment or two of murmuring something under his breath, his brow furrows. “You are the most reliable bag-packer I’ve ever seen.”

You scoff. He ties it shut again and drapes it over its original place on your back. “You definitely didn’t forget anything. Maybe you’re just having another off-day.”

You nod, leaning into his chest. His fingers smooth over your braided hair soothingly, a velvety shadow coming up to poke at your cheek. You can’t help but smile — your lover, strong and lethal, could be so soft sometimes.

“You should probably go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know the others are almost ready, and I can’t imagine that Léith would be happy if you were late.”

“The Shadow Wielder is correct,” the dragon sniffs. “I do not appreciate your disregard for punctuality.”

You roll your eyes and brush a light kiss over his wrists before you break away, striding toward the door defeatedly. Why couldn’t you just remember for once? The only thing you can think of now is Xaden’s lips on yours—

Wait.

You stop dead in your tracks. That’s it.

Xaden says your name lowly, carefully. “Are…you okay? Do you remember what you need?”

You spin around, eyes wide and a bright smile on your face as you slide back over to him. The poor boy looks so confused, his deep onyx eyes sweeping over you in the way it usually does — tracking, observing, making sure every single part of you is still intact.

“Oh, yes,” you hum, rising on your tiptoes and winding your arms around his neck. “I did.”

Quickly, almost fleetingly, you press a firm kiss to his lips, silencing any response he could have possibly thought of.

The effect is instantaneous; Xaden goes utterly still. Like, still as a statue. Inhumanly still, even, as if the very touch of your lips would freeze his brain. Before he can properly react, you break away from him, tilting your head up to see his eyes widened a little, a little flush coming to his face. For once, you’d caught him completely off-guard — and that fact had probably surprised him, too.

You huff out a little laugh. “That’s what I was missing. Can’t believe I forgot that.” You spin on your heel and race from the room, calling over your shoulder. “I love you! I’ll see you later, if we’re all lucky.”

He watches you sprint off to the flight field, not sure how to conduct himself. Usually, he’s the one who initiates things, and you wait for fear of overstepping a boundary. Well, that’s been thrown out the window. His hand comes up to touch his lips, as if checking to feel that you had actually just kissed him like that before ripping yourself away from him.

Sgaeyl’s voice sounds both bored and unimpressed. “You’re being shocked into stillness by that? I am a little disappointed, frankly.”

A beat. Two.

“…You can be disappointed all you want,” he replies, still staring at the corner you disappeared behind. “I’m certainly not.”

#fourth wing #the empyrean #onyx storm #iron flame #fourth wing imagines #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson imagine #fourth wing imagine #xaden x reader

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etheraltides · 6 months ago

Text

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, mention of grief, drugs.

A/N: I hope y’all like long chapter ‘cause your girl seriously got carried away with building things between them. Feedback is always heart warming <3!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter three: Can we call it truce? ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

The hum of the engines filled the cabin, lulling most of the passengers in the business class into a calming state. Most, that is, except for you. You sat beside Rafe, trying to focus on the book at hand, your foot tapping a frustrated rhythm on the floor as he sprawled beside you enough to invade your space, oozing an insufferable amount of calm. Even with the extra room, it felt cramped - his very presence seemed to fill the air in the whole plane. His breathing was annoying you.

Rafe, meanwhile, stretched out his legs, his arm draped across the armrest to the point his fingers would brush your knees if you moved just a tide bi, his gaze lazily drifting away from his phone towards you. "You look like you're about to combust or something." He murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "What? Didn't that douchebag do a good job with you?"

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to smack him across the face with your self-improving book, slamming its cover closed. The last thing you wanted was to have everyone looking at you as you shared your lovely words with Rafe. "Why the fuck are you so obsessed with him? Sounds like someone isn't getting laid..." You gave a cynical smile, thriving as you noticed the smirk dropping from his lips instantly. Now, that'd always be priceless. "I wouldn't be, if you didn't act like you owned half of my seat as well."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic." He stretched out further, nudging your eyeglasses as you tried to dodge your head but of course, his long arms would reach you. His smirk widened when you shot him a warning glare, almost as if daring you to do something. "You're by choice, remember? I can always tell Topper about that broken touron... Plus, I paid for both seats so I technically can be as comfortable as I wish."

"Barely." Your eyes narrowed, fingers clenching around the book. "One wrong move and I'm asking for a different seat."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening enough to grace you with a dimple. A ridiculous dimple that'd be adorable in anyone but not on him. "Go ahead. Maybe you'll find a seat in coach where you belong."

That was it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, drawing the attention of a flight attendant passing by as you smacked your book against his chest with the other, a small satisfied smirk on your lips as you heard him groan.

"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" The attendant's polite smile faltered as she glanced between you, clearly sensing the simmering tension. Even a senseless person could tell. Anyone but you two.

"Yes, actually." You leaned forward, using your best sweet voice but not even it couldn't hide the clipped tone completely. "Could I switch seats? I'm afraid I'd be more comfortable elsewhere."

The attendant looked at you, then at Rafe, and back again, her expression sympathetic but warry. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're at full capacity here in business class. I could check for a seat in coach, but..." She trailed off, her eyes shifting to Rafe's amused expression as he tried to cover his laugh with a cough.

The tension in your shoulders tightened, your jaw clenched as you forced a smile. That’s what you get for trying to be a good human being. “Never mind, I'll manage.. Thank you."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. amusement sparkling in his eyes as he leaned back, satisfied. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He murmured, his finger hooking on top of you glasses again only to push them lower on the bridge of your nose before you slapped his hand away.

You ignored him, staring ahead and steeling yourself. Yet as the minutes passed by, his presence beside you felt unbearable. You could feel his gaze every now and then, could sense his satisfaction in your discomfort. When the plane finally touched down, you were nearly ready to explode and take the first flight back - but then you remembered your part of the bargain and something strange tugging at your chest.

Hours later, in the quietness of your hotel room, you inspected your dress in the mirror, mind turning over the insanity of this arrangement. Why had you agreed to this? You hardly owed him anything, especially not this. And yet, here you were, preparing yourself to play a role in his life that the mere thought of the idea made you want to throw up. Maybe, deep down, you'd wanted to help, wanted to see him succeed just this once - he had recently lost Ward so... Maybe you could cut him some slack just this once. But as you took one last glance in the mirror, your couldn't shake the creeping doubt that this was all a huge mistake.

By the time you arrived at the beachside reception, you were determined to remain calm, to put up with Rafe and all of this madness for one weekend. You'd view it as one of your college projects. A small leaf of kindness to a boy who lost his father. "I'm doing these for Topper." You thought to yourself. It'd be one less thing for Topper to deal with.

The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm golden glow over the guests. It was exquisite honestly. Small tables dotted the pavemented area, surrounded by low, flickering lanterns and decorated with delicate pinkish flower arrangements. The sound of waves mingled with the soft music being played by the band as people chatted and laughed. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty ocean breeze wash over you. It felt good to be away from home. You loved Outer Banks but the way people were always paying attention and gossiping about the smallest steps of each other made you feel like someone had a hand on your throat, cutting your air from time to time. Here, despite a few familiar faces, you didn't have to be Thorton's perfect girl nor live under your mother's pressuring expectations 24/7. Even if you were here to play a fake part, it felt a bit more freeing than being your family's fake part at home. You smoothed down your dress. You could do it and you would enjoy this weekend.

Rafe held back a smile as he shook the man's hand, his heart pumping with adrenaline and pride as South Carolina's biggest real estate agent said he'd love to see some of the properties Ward had left for Rafe back in Charleston either to sell or rent. Rafe needed money after his deception with the Golden Cruise and wouldn't use most of the properties now in his name - that'd be some easy way to make money. The man excused himself with a squeeze on Rafe's shoulder and for what felt like hours, he finally had a moment to breathe.

His gaze shifted through the crowd, looking for a specific familiar face he hadn't seen since they arrived at the hotel - part of him was afraid you'd turn your back and be on your way to Outer Banks now without a word. You hadn't come outside your room when he knocked earlier, though he hadn't exactly waited around to see if you'd answer. He counted to thirty before sending you a text with the location and hour. But now, with the deep hues of the setting sun casting an amber glow across the venue, he spotted you. Faster than he'd like to admit.

You stood on the edge of the terrace, deep in conversation with a small group. The soft fabric of your dress catching the light and floating with each of your movements and the kisses of wind. Rafe's jaw tightened as he took you in, the vibrant color of your dress constrasting with your sunkissed skin and the effortless confidence setting you apart from the crowd. Your lips curled into an easy, practiced smile as you listened to an elder woman, but your eyes held a spark he'd seen many times before - sharp, observant.

A guest brushed past him, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and made his way over the bar, feeling the strain of your reality settle in his muscles. You'd worn him thin on the flight, the words you exchange a mix of cutting remarks and barely veiled insults. And yet, here he was, his gaze drawn back to you as if on a string.

While he waited for the drinks, he glanced your way again, just as you glanced toward him - though you looked away just as quickly, a subtle arch of your brow signaling that your attention was far from amused. Rafe's lip twisted into a smirk, though he couldn't shake the strange irritation knotting in his chest.

When he finally turned back with the drinks in his hands, you were nowhere near where he'd last seen you. Annoyed, he scanned the crowd, his brows drawing together. He had texted you to don't be all over the place by yourself, not wanting to risk you doing something wrong that would fall on him. Then, across the terrace, he saw you.

You finally managed to take a breath from your grandma's acquaintances, the tension ebbing away from your shoulders until you felt a hand on your lower back, guiding you forward. You could know it was him before you even looked. That scent of warm spices with a touch of amber. His touch was infuriating to raise a few bumps on your skin. His breath brushed your ear as he leaned closed. "Try not to get too lost in the view, sweetheart." He murmured. "We're her for business, remember? I need you around."

You bristled, shifting away from his touch. "I'm perfectly aware, Cameron. You think I'm talking to them because I'm having the time of my life?"

He laughed under his breath, the sound grating before he sipped on his whiskey. "Relax. You're wound so tight, it's a miracle you haven't cracked yet."

You gritted your teeth, sending him a glare. The comment hit a bit deeper than he probably meant to. "Maybe I wouldn't be if I weren't stuck here with you."

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Right. Because I'm such a nightmare." He gave you a once-over, an annoying cockish smirk curling at the edge of his mouth that could barely go unnoticed. Barely. "That's rich coming from the one rolling around with low-life tourists... Just don't embarrass me, alright?"

Your mouth fell open, anger flaring as you held the urge to roll back your eyes. Shit, he would never let you hear the end of it, wouldn't he? Well, you had tried to be civil but he wasn't really helping so two could dance. "Embarrass you? I think I should be the one saying that giving your... history."

"Let's hope so." He said, shrugging nonchalantly but you could notice his jaw clenching, the way he quickly brought the glass to his lips again. You had got him. "This is my reputation on the line, after all."

Of course, he'd give the last word. You felt the urge to shove him, to break through that self-assured arrogance. But instead, you squared your shoulders, grabbed the glass from his hand, and turned your back on him, weaving through the crowd on your own. The farther you were from him, the better. How dared he? Embarrass him? You? He should be thanking you and making sure you were content enough to don't simply abandon him, and not acting like an asshole. "But that was Rafe Cameron." You reminded yourself.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself talking to a few guests, your confidence growing with each conversation and familiar faces. This was more your territory than Rafe's. Some of them you knew because of your grandfather, the others because of your mother, having seen them in the events your family hosted throughout the year - coming from an influential family had its perks as much as it had its downs - but, of course, you wouldn't tell Rafe yet. Then, you notice someone.

Mr. Rossi’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted you. He made his way through the small crowd, his gray hair neatly combed back, a hint of cologne trailing behind him.

“Ah, you have grown so much since we last saw you,” he said, his voice rich with genuine affection. He extended a hand, firm yet welcoming. His grin revealed lines carved by years of smiles.

Before you could respond, Mrs. Rossi appeared at your side, her silk dress rustling softly as she leaned in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Look at you,” she whispered with a warmth that made you feel instantly at home.

You took his hand, giving it a confident shake, your eyes sparkling. “Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, it’s so good to see you both!” A touch of nostalgia filled your voice, mingling with excitement. “And not just that,” you added, a playful lilt coloring your words as you shifted your weight, leaning slightly forward. “I’ll be taking my grandfather’s place in the upcoming tennis match this year, so... you two better come prepared.” You finished with a wink, your smile broadening as a flush of warmth crept into your cheeks.

Mr. Rossi let out a hearty chuckle, the sound resonating in his chest. He squeezed your hand before releasing it, exchanging a glance with his wife, who raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. “So, you’re the partner he’s been bragging about all lately.” He said, his tone laced with pride. He leaned slightly closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I guess we better watch out, love” He said to Mrs. Rossi, who nodded with a conspiratorial smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Oh, we’ll be there.” She said, a teasing note in her voice as she crossed her arms gently. “But don’t think for a moment we’ll go easy on you.”

The three of you laughed, the sound weaving seamlessly into the lively background, quickly launching into conversation. You remembered Rafe detailing every single thing about the business partner he wanted to attract but you'd never linked that with Mr. Rossi, an old good friend of your grandpa. You wanted to laugh at the coincide of it all, ignoring the small part of you that worried he'd bring this eventually with your family around.

It wasn’t long before Rafe appeared, a new drink in hand, eyes narrowed as he assessed the scene before him. His gaze swept over Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, then settled on you, a flash of frustration momentarily darkening his features. He took a slow sip, composing himself before approaching with a casual stride, masking the tightness in his chest.

You felt the subtle shift in the room before you saw him, the energy becoming taut. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you glanced his way, catching his eye. Without hesitation, you reached out, your fingers curling around his forearm to draw him closer. “I imagine you’ve already met my boyfriend.” You said, the word ‘boyfriend’ laced with a playful edge that danced just shy of sarcasm.

Rafe’s expression softened as he took his cue, slipping seamlessly into the role. “Not formally.” He said smoothly, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes as he glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Rossi. “Rafe Cameron.” He added, offering his hand with a practiced charm that belied the tension beneath the surface.

Anne’s eyes lit up as she clasped Rafe’s hand, her touch light but approving. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Mr. Cameron.” She said, her smile sincere as she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.

Rafe chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “I try my best,” he replied, casting a sidelong glance at you. “Though she makes it an interesting challenge.”

Mr. Rossi nodded, a hint of businesslike interest crossing his face. “Speaking of challenges, I hear your office has been making waves recently.” he said. “I’ll make sure to pay a visit while I’m in town for the match.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a moment of surprise as he processed the unexpected connection but remained composed. “We’d be glad to have you,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

You squeezed Rafe’s arm gently, catching the subtle tension in his jaw. “Looks like we’ll be keeping busy.” You said lightly, breaking the moment with a smile.

Mr. Rossi chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Indeed. I look forward to seeing just how much you both can juggle.”

The laughter that followed softened the air, weaving seamlessly into the lively atmosphere. Then Mr. Rossi checked his watch, saying it was time for his speech, joking about how he didn't want his daughter going bradzilla for his small delay.

You bit back a laugh, turning to Rafe. "You don't look happy, boyfriend." The word rolled off your tongue sweetly, a pout on your lips as a hint of mockery shone in your eyes.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and he took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. "You're awfully smug for someone who almost ended up in coach."

"Oh, come on." You retorted, leaning a little closer, your fingers opening the first two buttons of his shirt as you adjusted the collar, feeling a rush of confidence. God, it felt great to have the upper hand on him. "You needed me here tonight more than you imagined, huh? I'm the reason Rossi even bothered with you for more than a call from his secretary and an invitation to this."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes looking down at your manicured nails on his shirt before he met your eyes, amusement flickering in them but it was laced with something darker. "Don't flatter yourself too much. He had already invited me here to discuss business. You're just playing your part to make me look more... stable."

"Sure... I'd hate for you to realize he'd avoid you in this crowd but yeah, suit yourself. Maybe I should get a cut of whatever deal you're hoping to land here."

Rafe smirked, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheekYou should push him away. Nope, couples don't push each other away. Playing your part. "Maybe you're enjoying this a little too much. I hate to say it but you look like you're having fun, princess."

Heat prickled at your cheeks as you realized his nearness, but you refused to back down. Couples don't push each other away and as he said, you were here to play your part. "Maybe I am. Pretending I'd choose you willingly has been quite the challenge though. I deserve a medal for this, maybe a Nobel."

Rafe chuckled, low and dark, your hand felt the vibrations on his chest as you tried to recall when you had rested them there. "Keep telling yourself that.”

You found yourself mingling with Mr.Rossi's daughter and her friends as the evening unfolded, laughing over shared stories about her soon-to-be-husband and single days while you sipped on champagne, letting yourself unwind in their easy company.

Across the terrace, Rafe nursed another glass of whiskey, his gaze wandering lazily around the crowd as he tried to pretend to be listening to whatever the man has been telling him for the past few minutes. He caught sight of a few men gathered nearby, theirs heads turned in one direction as they didn't bother to keep their comments to a low tone. His curiosity piqued - anything that wasn't the man talking the details about his basic sanitation network company. Rafe followed their line of sight and he froze, his glass top mid way to his lips.

There you were, surrounded by a group of women, your laughter light and genuine as you gestured with your hands excitedly, oblivious to the attention around you. You looked radiant, a far cry from the guarded, defensive person he was used to sparring with.

For a moment, Rafe felt his breath hitch. You looked... Happy, and there was something about that image, about you, that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. He couldn't tear his gaze away, struck by how beautiful you looked when you weren't rolling your eyes or trying to push him away. Honestly, he couldn't even remember seeing you this carefree... Ever.

Then he caught the voice of one of the men beside him, a dark-haired guy leaning over to murmur to his friend. "Shit, man... I may shoot my shot. It doesn't look like she's with anyone here."

Rafe felt an unexpected, sharp pang on his stomach that quickly irradiated through him, and before he knew it, he was turning to the man with an arrogant smirk, an unmistakble edge to his voice. "She's taken, actually. My girl."

The man raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise and dissapointment crossing his face that had Rafe's smirk widening. "Really? Lucky bastard, hm. If I were you, I'd be as close as possible to her." He gave Rafe an amused nod, his eyes briefly running over your figure one last time before he turned back to his friends.

Rafe felt his grip on the glass tightneing, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was here for business. To show a clean image - he reminded himself.

As he dawned the rest of the liquor, the words that just spilled from his mouth echoing in his mind. My girl. His jaw clenched as the licour hit his throat, the reality of what he'd implied without thinking twice settling heavily on him. He wasn't jealous. Of course not. This was all just a part of the act, part of maintaining the appearances. He was just making sure they didn't ger the wrong idea - that was all. Definitely.

But as he looked towards you, he couldn't deny the surge frustration that rose in him when he saw another guy approach your group, a bright smile on his face as he joined in the conversation. He watched as you smiled back, looking genuinely delighted, your laugh seemed to pull everyone around you into your orbit. His fingers tightened around his glass again, and he felt a strange mix of pride and irritation twist inside him.

After a few minutes of watching, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Excuse me." He patted the sanitation guy on the shoulder without sparring him a glance nor bothering for a reply. He strode over, inserting himself into the circle with a charming smile, though his gaze was focused entirely on you. The other women greeted him with polite nods, but you turned with an arched brow when you felt his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer to the side of his body as if he had every right to.

"Having fun, baby?" He murmured, his eyes scanning your face, noting the soft flush in your ceeks - either from the champagne, him or your laughing, he couldn't tell. "Seems like you're doing better than I expected on your own."

"Why, jealous?" You teased, not missing a beat, a smirk curling at your lips as you caught the slight edge in his tone.

Rafe's smirk faltered for a split second before he forced a scoff. "Of you? Hardly. Just keeping an eye on things. After all, you are here with me, remember?"

Your gaze narrowed as he was the one to excuse himself earlier when both were walking around together and chatting with the other guests. The glint of amusement in your eyes told him that you weren't taking his words to heart. "Oh, I remember..." You replied, tilting your head to the side. "Just didn't realize you'd be so... attentive."

He shifted, suddenly a bit unsure. "I'm just... Making sure everything goes smoothly tonight, alright?" He muttered, sounding more defensively than he expected. "Look, it's not like I care who you're talking to or anything. We just have an image to keep."

You arched your brow, a playful smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you leaned a little closer, dropping your voice just low enough for only him to hear. "Good. Because I almost thought you were jealous, Rafe."

Rafe scoffed, straightening up and immediately tearing his gaze away from his lips to the ocean behind you. "Please. Like I'd be jealous over you... this." He waved a hand, gesturing vaguely at your figure, thought his eyes betrayed him, lingering a moment longer than he intended. Stupid dress.

The band started playing something softer and Lia, Mr. Rossi's daughter, grabbed the champagne glass from the people's hands, handing it to the first waiter that walked by. "Come on. I want all the couples dancing to this. I'd love to have it on footage."

You furrowed your brows, glancing over at her and then Rafe. The idea of dancing with him sounded absurd, even more in a crowd, making you hesitate for a moment but the mischievous glint in his eyes pulled you in.

Rafe held out a hand, his expression challenging. "What's wrong? Afraid you're going to catch feelings?"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could second-guess yourself anymore and make it suspicious, he took your hand and you let him lead you to the dance floor, feeling your heart speeding up. It's okay. It's just like midsummer - you repeated to calm yourself even if you always panicked during dances on midsummer, afraid that’d take a wrong step and all the heads would turn and see you.

The moment his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, you felt a spark of electricity run through you. It was probably your anxiety, right?

The world around you seemed to blur, the hum of conversations fading into the background as he kept you close, his grip strong but not bruising. Firm as he pulled you into a gentle sway, his gaze locked onto yours with something that made your heart race a bit more. His hating gaze looked a bit different...

For once, you weren't fighting, weren't throwing sarcastic comments at each other. You were simply... around, moving in rhythm, caught up in a moment you hadn't ever thought possible. His hand was warm agaisnt your bare back, his touch not letting you move too far from him as he guided you.

Rafe's voiced dropped to a murmur, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. "You don't always need to be at my throat, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping. Honestly, you couldn't even remember why it started but you were sure he had given you a reason. "And miss out on all the fun? Never."

He huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he shifted his weight, leaning a fraction closer. The playful defiance between you seemed to thrum in the small space left between your bodies. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but his eyes narrowed, holding yours with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Careful, you might start to like me.”

For a heartbeat, silence settled between you, thick and humming, before you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, shaking your head as a disbelief chuckle left your lips.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck tired of holding resting his shoulder because of the height difference.

But as you looked up at him, the warmth of his hand on your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even if it was just for a moment, you’d both let your guard down – and neither of you had hated it.

You and Rafe had just stepped off the dance floor, still laughing over the memory of Topper’s ridiculous stunt at last year’s family gathering. The thought of him, trying - and failing - at impressing everyone with his off-key karaoke performance that he had trained for weeks, was enough to keep the laughter bubbling between you.

“Honestly.” Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he didn’t break something. I’m not even sure how the microphone survived the entire thing.”

You snorted, your amusement lighting up the moment and you quickly covered your mouth, cheeks heating as you waited for Rafe’s teasing but he did none, the crease on the corner of his eyes deepening as his smile stretched. “I think the whole room aged ten years listening to him butcher that song. We should’ve charged tickets.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and for a moment, the usual tension between you both seemed to melt away. But before you could tease him further, a man approached, his expression serious, as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Rafe.” the man said, clapping him lightly on the back, his tone overly familiar. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your father. Losing him like that… it must be incredibly hard.”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. He couldn’t even remember this man’s face. Probably someone that saw him and his dad in one of those award parties. “Thanks.” He replied, his tone polite but distant.

The man seemed to ignore the subtle shift in Rafe’s mood, continuing on with his monologue. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Your father was a legend - everyone respected him. I mean, not many people could’ve built what he did. A huge legacy. It must feel like a heavy burden, huh?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked to you. You could practically see the frustration building in him, but the man kept talking, completely oblivious to the discomfort he was causing or simply not caring enough.

“You know, the pressure of living up to someone like that…it’s gotta be tough. Everyone’s always expecting you to fill those shoes, to carry on the family name. I don’t know how you manage it, but it must be exhausting.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and Rafe was clearly struggling to stay polite. But before he could respond, you couldn’t take it anymore nor risk Rafe loosing his cool here out of all the places.

“I need air,” you blurted out, voice sharp and breathless. You placed a hand on Rafe’s arm, pulling at him urgently. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. I just— I need to get out of here, baby.”

Rafe looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing for a second before he caught onto it. He stood straighter, clearly thankful for the distraction. You gave him a small but determined nod, practically dragging him away from the conversation.

“Come on, let’s get to the beach. Now.” you added, not giving him a chance to argue. You tugged him harder this time, the tension in your voice sharp, hoping it was enough to convince the man to leave him alone for the night.

The man was still rambling, oblivious to Rafe’s discomfort. “It’s just… it’s not easy living with that kind of legacy, right?”

Rafe turned back to him with a forced smile, cutting him off before he could say more. “Sorry, we really need some air.” He said quickly, his hand around your waist as if you needed to be supported to the way. “She’s not feeling well, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay in the crowd.”

Rafe shot the man a tight smile. “Thanks for the condolences.”

The man looked confused but nodded. “Of course. Take care, Rafe.”

As you pulled Rafe toward the beach, you didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the terrace. You let out a shaky breath, your frustration turning into a quiet laugh of disbelief.

“You okay?” You turned your head back, looking at Rafe cautiously once both had put enough distance between the man, almost reaching the beach.

He turned to you, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “Yeah. Just… feels like everyone wants to remind me of it tonight.” he said, glancing back to the party before he glanced at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keep his emotions at bay. He had lost the count of how many people came to talk to him about his dad and how impossible would it be to fill in his shoes. “You really saved me there.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“It was nothing.” You shrugged, letting out a long sigh as you felt the breezy air in your face.

Rafe gave you a grateful look, his stiff posture relaxing a little. “No, I’m glad you stepped in. That guy was relentless.”

You stopped just before you could step onto the sand and bent down to slip off your heels, the sound of your dress rustling as you lifted the hem to avoid dragging it through the sand.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and confusion etched across his face as you balanced your heels in one hand. For a fleeting moment, you noticed a hint of something in his eyes, something that made your heart race. You released his hand to free up both of yours, but the sudden loss of his warmth sent a strange ache through you, as if you were missing it. Must be the chilly wind.

“Are you coming or what?” you called over your shoulder, a teasing lilt in your voice that made him smile.

The sound of the waves, rhythmic and calming, filled the space between you, casting a serene contrast to the fading noise of the party behind. The cool night breeze touched your skin, making you feel both exposed and comforted, wrapped in the solitude of the beach.

Rafe stood beside you, his features illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt, rolling it between his fingers with easy practice just to make sure it was tight in place. You watched him discreetly, curiosity stirring as he flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the tip. The brief burst of light illuminated his features – sharp jawline, focused eyes, the way his lips curved slightly as he took a drag.

You couldn’t look away, your eyes tracing the path of the smoke as it curled and rose, dissipating into the cool night air. It felt almost intimate, watching him like this, and you swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts when he turned and caught your gaze.

“Want some?” His voice broke the silence, low and inviting as he could sense your eyes on him.

A rush of nerves surged through you, mingling with anticipation. “I uh… haven’t smoked before. Topper always said it’d look bad for the family and that mom would disown me if she ever found out” you admitted, the corners of your lips lifting in a faint, rueful smile though your voice was quieter than usual, small.

Rafe’s brow arched, the shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. If only you knew the things Topper did whenever he magically disappeared from the parties. “And what do you think?” The question was casual, but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

You took a breath, letting the salt-laced air fill your lungs. “I think I’m done caring about that.”

His smirk grew, and for a second, the intensity in his gaze softened. “Good.” He took another slow drag, the orange ember glowing against the dark, and held it out to you. His fingers brushed yours as you reached for it, a spark of contact that sent a shiver through you.

“Just inhale slowly, let it settle,” he said, his voice steady, a grounding presence in the rush of your heartbeat.

You brought the blunt to your lips, eyes flicking to him once more as you mirrored the movement you’d seen him make. The smoke tasted sharp, unfamiliar, and you exhaled with a cough, eyes watering slightly. Rafe’s smirk turned into a grin, warm and teasing. Almost proud.

“Not bad.” he said, amusement lacing his words. “Better than most the first time.”

A laugh escaped you, loosening the last of the tension. “I’ll take that.”

The two of you walked slowly, the cool sand shifting beneath your feet as the night deepened. The warmth from the smoke spread through your chest, lifting the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the way the moonlight traced the strong lines of his face.

“Do you smoke often?” you asked, more to break the silence than anything else and you wanted to slap yourself for the question. Really?

Rafe’s expression shifted, a brief shadow crossing his features. “Not really. Only when I need to clear my head.” He looked out at the horizon, where the dark sky met the shimmering waves as he took the joint from your fingers, taking a long drag. “It helps keep the noise out.”

A quiet understanding settled between you. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of what you didn’t say. “Losing your dad…”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, his guard slipped, cracking enough to allow you to catch a glimpse of the raw ache beneath. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the space between you felt smaller, the silence charged with shared vulnerability. You took another drag, the taste still foreign but less jarring, and exhaled slowly as Rafe’s eyes returned to yours, something unreadable in their depths.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen over the waves as they rolled in. For once, the silence wasn’t biting.

You took another careful drag, this time holding it a bit longer before exhaling, just like he did earlier, but you were still unable to get rid of the cough completely. The warmth in your chest spread further, easing the last traces of tension from your body. It was strange and exhilarating to be here, outside the lines your mom had always drawn for you, with him of all people.

Rafe broke the silence, his voice softer, almost contemplative. “You know, you don’t have to be ‘perfect’ all the time.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “It’s okay to let people see the real you. Acting like a human being and all.”

The words hit deeper than you expected. You looked down, your toes digging into the cool, damp sand. “I don’t even know who that is half the time" you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, swinging your heels softly to distract yourself from the embarrassment in your chest.

Rafe turned to face you fully, his expression serious but not hard. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart stutter. You met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away - the distant party, the rolling waves, the cool bite of the night air. It was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something that felt completely new.

Before you could say anything, he took a step closer, close enough that you could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way the moonlight caught the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The scent of smoke and saltwater surrounded you, heady and grounding, mixed with his perfume.

“Rafe…” Your voice came out quieter than intended, the space between you charged with tension.

He searched your face, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a whisper meant for only you.

The truth is, you didn’t know.

You felt the urge to close the gap, to see what would happen if you let yourself fall just a little further into this to see where would it go. But before you could move, he reached out, fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was fleeting but sent a shiver down your spine.

What was happening?

“I kinda like this version of you.” he said, the honesty in his tone making your heart thump wildly.

For the first time in a long while, you felt seen - not as the person everyone expected you to be, but as yourself. The realization was both thrilling and terrifying. You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do too.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and without another word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his fingers placing the blunt in front of your lips. The two of you walked without a hurry and direction, the few glasses of champagne you had earlier and Rafe's glasses of whiskey distracting both of you from the situation, from what it looked like and what it could possibly mean.

The air between you felt different now, the silence thick with something unspoken, the kind of tension that crackled in the spaces between your words. Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than usual before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, where the moonlight kissed the waves in a dance of silver and blue.

A strange warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body like the soft glow of embers catching fire. The world felt sharper - every scent, every sound more pronounced. The night air nipped at your skin, but it felt distant, almost dreamlike.

Then it hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: you had just smoked weed. You, the one who had lived carefully, each step monitored, each decision weighed against the unspoken expectations of your family, had done something completely impulsive. The absurdity of it made your lips twitch, and before you could stop it, a small laugh bubbled up from deep inside.

You covered your mouth quickly, but it escaped anyway - another giggle, this one louder and harder to contain. You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief, and tried to stifle the sound, but the harder you tried, the more it slipped free.

Rafe's gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a grin as he watched you. “There it is” he teased, a knowing lilt in his voice. “I was wondering when the giggles would show up.”

You shook your head in mock exasperation, still unable to stop the fits of laughter, feeling your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I actually smoked weed. Oh my God. Don't tell Topper!" You looked at him with wide eyes, pointing a manicured nail towards his chest.

Rafe arched his brow, his head leaning down until his breath was touching your ear. “What’s your bargain?”

You blinked for a second, before you pushed his chest away, letting out a dramatic “Ew, Cameron!”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm in the cool night air. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart. It’s liberating, isn’t it? Letting go for once?”

You nodded, the last of your giggles dying down as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you - understanding, maybe a little deeper than you expected. It made your chest tighten in a different way now.

“Yeah..." you whispered, your voice softer than before. “It really does.”

The next few moments passed in a quiet, comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft rush of waves against the shore. Every so often, a burst of laughter escaped you, and Rafe joined in, his chuckle easy and carefree.

By the time you reached the hotel, the city hummed with late-night life, a symphony of distant laughter and the occasional honk of a cab. The mix of champagne and weed had left your steps unsteady, your senses softened around the edges. Somewhere along the way, Rafe’s arm had slipped around your waist, steadying you as you swayed with a giggle. The warmth of his touch felt too natural, too easy for two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other.

“You think we’ll make it to the room before I collapse in a heap of elegance?” you teased, the words slurred with playfulness, though a flicker of doubt clung to the end.

Rafe smirked, casting a sideways glance down at you. “At this rate? You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already,” he said, voice threaded with a teasing edge, but there was a softness there, something almost protective, that he quickly masked.

You leaned into him, the movement instinctive, your giggle breaking free as you stumbled slightly. “Oh, please. I’m fine.” you quipped, tilting your head up, your eyes catching his. Without thinking, your hand pressed against his chest, fingers curving around the muscle beneath. You blinked in surprise before watching your brows at him. “Damn, nice boobs.”

His eyes widened for a split second before he threw his head back in a laugh, the sound reverberating through him and into you. “Jesus, Y/N.” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation he brushed off with a roll of his eyes. He caught your hand as it lingered, the playfulness replaced for a heartbeat with something charged, before he let it go with a chuckle. “Keep that up, and I’ll start charging for these services.”

“So that one was on the house?” you asked, your grin lopsided, unable to hide how much you were enjoying this rare break in your usual dynamic.

Rafe’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the walls you both kept between you forgotten under the haze of laughter and the city lights. “Depends. Will you keep assaulting me?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound a contrast with the rather quiet lobby but none of you could care less. For once, none of you were being bothered by the image that you were supposed to keep and the animosity felt like a distant memory, replaced by the sharp realization that maybe pretending wasn’t the hardest part after all.

Once inside the hotel, you both went straight to your hotel rooms. You fumbled for the key cards, sliding one into the door, but the red light blinked mockingly. You tried again, turning the card. Still no luck. Your frustration began to mount as you tried once more, and then again, but the door stubbornly refused to open.

Rafe stood back, watching with a bemused smirk. “Having trouble?”

“Are you serious right now?” you muttered, glaring at the door. “These damn things are broken, I swear.”

“Sure, sure,” Rafe said, his grin widening. “You’re not just the problem, huh?”

You shot him an exaggerated glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up again. “I swear, it’s not my fault.”

“Right.” Rafe teased. “Because nothing is broken when you get involved.”

He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed. “Great.” he muttered, pulling the card out and trying it again, only for the light to flash red, mocking him. He tried once more - still nothing. His expression darkened with frustration.

“Rafe, are you sure you know how to use those?” you teased, leaning against the wall, an amused grin tugging at your lips.

He shot you a half-amused, half-annoyed glance. “I’m not an idiot.” he said, giving the card one last try before slapping it against his palm. “It’s the damn door.”

With a sigh, he turned to the door across from yours - the one that led to his room - and gave it a shot with his card. You leaned in just enough to watch, your curiosity piqued. He slid his card in, turning the handle with the same precision.

Nothing. Again.

“Well, that’s just great!” he muttered, letting out a punch on the door before he . He looked over at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

You snickered softly, crossing your arms. “Looks like we’re both stuck.” you said, your voice laced with teasing. “Are you sure you paid for the rooms, Cameron?”

Rafe shot you a playful glare. “I blame the hotel staff” he replied, rubbing his forehead as if this whole situation were somehow their fault. He shoved the card back into his pocket. “Let’s check the front desk.”

As you both headed toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but notice the faint frustration in his eyes. But there was something else there, too - a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night like he was trying to figure you out, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the situation.

The receptionist smiled sympathetically, taking the cards from you and swiping them through the system. You glanced over at Rafe, your eyes landing on his red, bloodshot gaze, and blinked in surprise.

“Damn, dude. What happened to your eyes?” you asked, voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Rafe shot you a side-eyed glance. “Shut up.” He muttered, but there was no hiding the playfulness in his voice.

You paused for a second, a small laugh escaping as your mind quickly connected the dots. “Wait, wait. You’re high as hell, aren’t you?” you teased with a grin, whispering as you thought the receptionist wouldn’t hear but the poor lady did a good job at pretending.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking even more. “You’re real observant one, huh.” he replied dryly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the receptionist typing on the computer, ready to cause a scene.

Just as you were about to keep joking, Rafe suddenly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. You blinked, a little surprised, but he just raised the phone to show you the screen with a smug look on his face.

There, right on the screen, was a close-up of your face – your eyes bloodshot and glowing red.

You froze, staring at it for a moment before your face broke into a laugh. “Oh my god, really?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

You leaned in to get a better look at the photo, your own laughter bubbling up. “That’s cute. We’re matching, Cameron!” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice.

The receptionist checked the system again, then looked up, a surprised smile on her face. “Actually, I see that your rooms has been upgraded.” she said. “Mr. Rossi made special arrangements for you. You’ll be staying in one of our premium suites, with an incredible coastal view.”

Rafe exchanged a glance with you, both of you processing the unexpected news. "Upgraded?" you repeated, still a little disoriented. "Wow... really?"

The receptionist handed you two new key cards with a smile. “Yes, enjoy your stay. All your luggages and belongings have been transferred already.”

“Guess we’re living the high life now,” Rafe said with a grin, taking the cards from her.

You snorted at his words, still buzzing with laughter. “Yeah, right… Literally.”

You both headed to the elevator, your footsteps light as you approached the suite. As the door opened, you brows shot up. A king-sized bed sat in the center, surrounded by luxurious vintage furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the coast - moonlight glimmering on the water, the soft rumble of the waves reaching your ears.

But then you looked at the bed again, and your stomach sank as everything clicked into place. You slowly turned to face Rafe, wide-eyed.

“Wait… we’re sharing this bed?” you asked, the realization slowly sinking in.

Rafe snorted. “Guess so. Unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m not sleeping on the couch. But how are we going to-?”

“What? Afraid you’ll be tempted?” He arched his brow, a teasing smile on his lips as he already move to his side of the bed, kicking off his shoes.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll take the bed. You can take the couch.”

“Not a chance.” Rafe cut you off with a raised hand. “I’m not sleeping on the floor either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You paused, thinking it over. “Okay, here’s the deal. You take one side, I take the other. No crossing the line, no touching. Agreed?”

Rafe crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll agree to those terms, for now.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, an unspoken tension between you, both looking each other in silence as if in some sort of staring contest.

“Fuck, whatever.” You sighed, running a hand on your hair as you could feel your eyelids too heavy. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

The soft click of the bathroom door broke the silence as you stepped out, the quiet only punctuated by the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You hesitated, taking a deep breath before moving. The silk ivory nightdress you wore was far too short to be comfortable with someone else in the room. The fabric brushed high on your thighs with each step, and a delicate lace traced the neckline, dipping low enough to tease. A matching robe hung loosely around your shoulders, but it offered little coverage - just the pretense of modesty. You had packed it for the warm weather but you didn’t imagine you’d share a room with him.

You’d taken your time getting ready, hoping that by now, Rafe would be asleep. But as you tiptoed around the bed, trying to slip under the covers unnoticed, the soft click of the lamp switch made you freeze.

Warm light bathed the room, casting shadows that flickered along the walls. You felt his eyes on you, burning with a heat that made the silk on your skin feel even thinner. Rafe was propped up on one elbow, his hand the back of his head and eyes sharper than they should be at this hour. The smirk that curled at the corner of his mouth sent a shiver through you.

He let his gaze travel slowly, unapologetically taking in the way the nightdress hugged your body. The ivory silk clung to your curves, highlighting the bare slope of your shoulders and the length of your legs. The lace skimmed the line of your chest, delicate and inviting. His eyes lingered where the fabric dipped and rose, tracing every detail as if he were memorizing it.

“Couldn’t sleep…” He said, voice low, the tease there but edged with something that made your breath catch. “But I see I might now.”

A nervous laugh escaped you, and you pulled the robe a little tighter, though it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through you. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.” you said as if trying to explain yourself, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Rafe’s smirk morphed into something deeper, eyes glinting as he pushed himself to sit up, muscles flexing under the thin cotton of his shirt and you’d never admit your gaze wandering to the contour of his muscles. “With you bringing the bathroom down? Not a chance.” He paused, the humor giving way to a quieter, more intense look. “You know, you don’t have to hide.” he said, nodding toward the robe that you tightly wrapped around you as you were almost curling on yourself.

Your fingers hesitated on the fabric, heart pounding as his words settled between you. The buzz from earlier, the laughter and sharp words, had dulled into a warmth that made your skin tingle. Still clouded with the weed and the drinks, you take a deep breath and take off the robe, quickly sliding under the covers and pulling it up your chest.

“If you’re trying to make peace between us,” he murmured, eyes darkening as they met yours. “this is a damn good way to start.” The playful lilt in his voice didn’t quite mask the heat simmering beneath it.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips lifted. “I thought the blunt of peace was already shared.” you said, voice soft but daring. The tension between you crackled, unspoken and electric.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, the word low and rough, like it slipped out without permission. He dragged a hand through his face, eyes looking to the ceiling as his head hang back before he shifted, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly between you on the bed, quickly turning off the lamp.

“Good night, trouble” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a mix of teasing and resignation, as if trying to convince himself more than you.

The corner of your mouth lifted, heart still racing as you pulled the sheets over you. “Good night, idiot.” you whispered back, the space between you feeling smaller than ever, despite the pillow.

The room settled into silence, but the tension hummed beneath it, making sleep a distant thought.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk @slutforoldermen @louxmcl @peter-parkers-gf @yootvi @v4mp1rr3

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron series

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rinneroraito · 10 months ago

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L x Reader: You ask if you could give him a hug. Almost 800 words, mundane fluff

~~~°~~~

It's the middle of the night in the headquarters. The rest of the Task Force had already retired to their rooms meanwhile you've taken it upon yourself to not leave your desk until your job was done. You weren't alone, though. L was also there doing pretty much the same thing as you. The last time you checked on him he was hunched over his screens. When you got up to take a short break, you find him on the glass windows overlooking the cityscape.

There was something lonely and haunting about his figure and where he stood, the darkness of the starless night sky and the empty office seemingly enveloping him in it's abyss. The title of "Greatest Detective in the World" isn't an ordinary feat and looking at him like this puts things into incredible perspective. He's just a person, too. Behind the screen and the garbled voice was just another man doing what he could.

You walk closer, standing alongside him staring at the cityscape below, the lights looking like stars that fell from the heavens.

"Have you ever been hugged, Detective?"

He turns to look at you and you meet his gaze. He's still wearing that usual stoic expression. Unreadable. Unsure of how to read him you're now wondering if maybe that wasn't a question that needed to be asked. Even if the reason was for a good cause, maybe it was too personal, especially for him.

"The last time I tried to 'hug' someone, I got kicked down a flight of stairs. Offering that gesture hasn't crossed my mind ever since so to answer your question, no. I have never been hugged. I also think my lifestyle has a lot to do about my lack of experience in that part, I'm sure you've thought about that."

Your eyebrows raise at his answer. Kicked down a flight of stairs? But more importantly, you were stuck thinking about the latter part of what he said. He was right, that possibility was also a thought that you've been speculating on. You turn to face him, pressing a hand to your cheek before you reach out, beckoning him to you.

"Would you like to experience it?"

You could see his eyes widen ever so slightly as he turns to face you, too. Maybe he was confused that it was something you'd offer to him, but it's just a hug, isn't it? And if he refuses then...

"I would, actually."

L shuffled closer to you and your hands slip through his limbs as you bring your arms around his waist, pulling him in.

He's cold.

L's entire frame is cold when you embrace him. He spends most of his time in front of his screens during the investigation, the frigid atmosphere provided by the air conditioning being his natural habitat. His clothes are cool, his jeans colder as you feel them brush against your thighs.

And then you feel his warmth. It's gradual, but the longer you hold him, the warmer he gets.

You can feel his lean muscles through his shirt as your arms circle his waist. He's skinny, making it easy to wrap your arms completely around his body, holding him firm and close.

You can hear his heartbeat as you press your ear to his chest. It's a gentle thrumming, as steady and as level as his demeanor. You can feel the rhythmic rise and fall that he makes as he breathes, and you wonder if he feels your rhythm, too.

L is hesitant, but he wraps his arms around you. Loosely at first, like he's testing the waters. And then you press him closer to you, reassuring him that he can do the same. He reciprocates. His hands press your back firmly, then he moves them to your shoulders, squeezing you to him. You can feel his breath as he rests his face on the crook of your neck.

You hold each other silently for a few moments that feel like an eternity. An eternity you wanted to prolong. Because in this little pocket of time, there was no Kira, there were no mysteries to be solved, no deaths to be brought justice to. In truth, time is not as forgiving as you wished it was. Yet you're here, L is here, and you both exist. Persisting through it all. You're holding him as he holds you. He's holding you as you hold him. And you're hoping to whatever higher being there is that at least, in this little pocket of time that you're hugging him, he feels some sort of solace in it.

"How does this feel, Detective?"

His monotonous voice comes out quiet, almost whispering, breathy against your ear.

"Comfortable. Thank you."

#l lawliet x reader #l lawliet #death note #death note l #whipquip #l death note #l my beloved #oc x canon #l lawliet x y/n #RinneL #l x reader #l x y/n #l x you #l x oc

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panelshowsource · 5 months ago

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random things to watch over the holiday break

happy holidays friends (⸝⸝^ᴗ^⸝⸝)❄️ as many of us have time off from our normal schedules, are taking long-haul flights or car drives, and will be spending hours in broom closets to avoid our terrifying families, i figure this is the perfect time to look back on the year and put together some watch links for over the break ❄️❄️❄️

—

panel shows

the christmas special of never mind the buzzcocks is always...something else

speaking of, icymi in a panel show miracle earlier this year an anonymous source provided beautiful archival copies of the first 12 series of nmtb — so this is the perfect time to revisit its classic era!!

junior taskmaster just wrapped up its first season! very wholesome, for the whole family (don't forget to check out the taskmaster podcast discussions for each episode, hosted by ed gamble!)

there were some great eps of cats does countdown this year but this one was probably my standout<3

because this series is on sky so we have to be careful circulating it, not everyone got a chance to watch rob beckett's smart tv when it aired this year! some of the panel guests include natasia demetriou, nicola coughlan, david tennant, romesh, and alan davies, among others

idk if this is controversial but i think the australian guy mont spelling bee MIGHT be better than the new zealand version... i'm not sure yet... i need someone else to watch every single episode and tell me what my opinion should be. i also want to thank this show for teaching me how to spell vinaigrette

this, this, and this were some of my favourite episodes of wilty this year!! btw the 2024 christmas episode just dropped!

there were a lot of wild lineups on mel giedoryc: unforgivable this year, but i'd recommend just starting with the first episode of the latest series because..well you'll understand when you see it

this year i made three big lists of random panel show moments that, in my humble opinion, you will love wasting your holidays hours clicking through: part 1 / part 2 / part 3

misc. tv

the royal variety performance 2024

the completely made up adventures of dick turpin was renewed for s2 so make sure to catch up!!! it's SO stupid hahaha

on a similar, less stupid note, ludwig will also be back for s2!

we're all still missing sean lock, who passed away three years ago, so it's never a bad time to revisit 15 storeys high — especially now that we have upgraded rips!

listen jon and lucy may be divorced but that doesn't make meet the richardsons any less iconic and the last two episodes just released!

s2 of alma's not normal is out this year and doing such amazing things for our sophie willan!!

this was a bit under the radar but backstage with katherine ryan was really fun! i love the mostly-documentary concept and it's one of my favourite things to see the backstage culture between these random comedians (judi x ivo killed me)

rhod gilbert's stand up to cancer documentary was really beautiful ;;

am i being unreasonable? (written by & starring daisy may cooper, from this country) is one of my underrated scripted comedies of the year

paddy mcguinness on who do you think you are

in the new jimmy carr-hosted game show battle in a box, pairs of celebs (mostly comedians) are trapped in an empty box for 24 hours, forced to play a series of mental and physical challenges. if you like the lineup then it's worth checking out!

it's christmas. just follow tradition and watch fry & laurie.

standup

ahir shah – ends (2024)

fern brady – austistic bikini queen (2024)

harriet kemsley – everything always works out for me (2024)

lucy beaumont – live from the royal court theatre (2024)

john kearns – the varnishing days (2023–4)

rhys james – spilt milk (2024)

suzi ruffell – snappy (2024)

tony law – the law also rises (2024)

films

monty python and the holy grail (1975) dir. terry gilliam, terry jones

withnail and i (1987) dir. bruce robinson

gosford park (2001) dir. robert altman

the personal history of david copperfield (2019) dir. armando iannucci

how to have sex (2023) dir. molly manning walker

rye lane (2023) dir. raine allen-miller

scrapper (2023) dir. charlotte regan

kneecap (2024) dir. rich peppiatt

youtube

been enjoying the dish podcast this year!! some of my favourite episodes include claudia winkleman, jordan north & william hanson, saoirse-monica jackson, gordon ramsay, sandi toksvig, richard e. grant, matthew macfadyen, and stephen fry

sandi toksvig hugging guests (2024 edition)

obsessed with this house tour with richard e grant

phil wang was on jolly?? it was fun to see his house

don't sleep on the taskmaster outtakes content!

radio & podcasts

green wing came back for a 6-part radio series and warmed all of our hearts<3

some of my favourite episodes of off menu this year: elis james, john robins, sam campbell, frankie boyle, lucy beaumont, jess knappett, joe wilkinson, tommy tiernan, ardal o'hanlon, huge davies (one of the all-time clips), danny dyer (this one is truly crazy on the ears can't recommend it enough)

the horne section podcast was back for a few episodes!!! if you've never listened before, start with this classic episode you're welcome

susie dent and phil wang have adorable chemistry on this new radio game show

david o'doherty and max rushden started a new podcast about what people did yesterday that has had lots of fun guests! start here if you need to give it a taste

a few RHLSTP episodes worth giving a listen: lee mack, bob mortimer, armando iannucci, rob brydon, peter serafinowicz, ade edmondson, fern brady, among others. if you find your patience waning, he's doing a couple of 'best of 2024' eps! richard's really been focused on his book podcast this year

books

frankie boyle & charlie skelton – a short history of the apocalypse: the vital guide to your future survival (2024)

miranda hart – i haven't been entirely honest with you (2024)

richard osman – we solve murders (2024)

—

i could go on forever but i've got to stop somewhere heh... looking forward to big fat quiz and more mindless telly in 2025! have a wonderful holiday x sarah

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS • NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS ♥ https://ko-fi.com/panelshowsource

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httpsserene · 2 years ago

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httpsserene's F1 Kinktober '23

summary: your husband comes home to his monaco apartment after achieving p2 in spain. from the texts you sent him before he boarded his flight, he expected you to be awake when he arrived. however, you’ve fallen asleep–but that’s not a problem. he’ll sneak into bed right next to you and catch a few extra hours of sleep. you’ll commemorate the podium come morning.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. needed something to soothe the soul after the austin gp disqualifications. it’s on the shorter side because i ditched the preamble in order to finish this in time lol, but i dedicate this to my twin @saintwrld ,:) (it reminds me of her renaissance series :p y'all should check it out @saintslewis) and i hope everyone enjoys it !!!!

click here to view the f1 kinktober ‘23 table of contents !

tender sex & cockwarming — 𝐥𝐡. 𝟒𝟒 lewis hamilton x fem!black!reader 1k words. vaginal sex. lingerie. marriage. tender sex. slow and sensual. unprotected sex (be safe irl, pls). cockwarming. intimacy. no beta we get disqualified like lewis and charles. husband/wife kink (if that’s a thing). soft lewis hamilton.

lewis sighs tiredly as he lies down in bed next to you. the mercedes driver turns on his side facing you, and laughs quietly. your bonnet, of course, has grown a pair of legs and climbed its way off your head and is sleeping on the pillow next to you—your braids fanned out on the pillow underneath you unprotected. lewis carefully wrangles the bonnet back on you and smiles adoringly when he notices that you're wearing the matching bonnet he got you almost nine years ago. and to feel how the matching bonnets makes his heart stutter after spending a decade of his life with you, two of those years being married; he knows being married to you is one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

he tugs you, his wife, closer; cooing out loud when he notices that you’re clad in one of his tommy hilfiger hoodies, tucking your head under his chin, arms wrapping around you tightly, and legs intertwining comfortably. you hum against his chest, nuzzling deeper into his bare skin, and a faint smile lingers on your lips, and unconscious reaction to having your husband home again. lewis throws his head back groaning, he can’t wake you up now. you had spammed his phone with texts before his flight, promising that he’d get a “surprise” when he got home, for doing so well this weekend—and he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up just so he can fuck you. well, he thinks, he can just get a couple hours of sleep in and then he’ll wake you up and enjoy whatever gift you’ve decided to bless him with and he drifts into sleep.

when lewis wakes up again, the first thing he notices is that he’s slept for way more than a couple hours. the noon sun has brightened the room immensely, and he’s shocked that he managed to stay asleep for so long with how the sun is shining directly on his face. he shifts onto his back, groaning at the soreness left from racing, and glances down at you to see if your still sleeping, and chokes on his breath. his hoodie is rucked up your waist from sleep, exposing your black lace panties, and when he shifts to get a better view of your ass, his body jostles yours and reveals the silver shift of glitter in the fabric.

“fuck,” lewis murmurs, he’s always been weak for you dressing in his team colors. one of his tattooed hands takes a generous squeeze of your ass, and he wonders if you're wearing the matching top. his grip on your ass may have become a smidge too tight at that thought, because you softly gasp awake. lewis watches as you squirm against him softly, face twisted in confusion, before you make eye contact with him, and you relax.

you smile sweetly, your left hand rising to rest on his cheek, “welcome home, champ.” lewis laughs at your half-asleep tone, nuzzling his face into your hand, before turning to press a kiss at the ring he put on your finger. “it was only a second-place finisher, love. no need to call me ‘champ.’”

frowning at him, you scoff, “you are still a seven-time world champion, are you not?” lewis concedes to your point; he’s not interested in being scolded by you today—he’s more concerned with unwrapping the present you got him. he hums and noses at your chin before he captures your lips in a dizzying kiss. your lips are languid against each other, there’s no rush in rediscovering the crevices within your mouths. lewis ignores how your teeth tug at his bottom lip, urging him to speed up—he only deepens the kiss, not quickening his pace, coercing you to melt under his passion.

he pulls away, enjoying how your gaze has transformed from sleep-hazy to lust-hazy. “mmm, is my ‘surprise’ the panties and matching bra you have under my hoodie?” lewis asks you. you nod your head gently, scooting back and pulling the hoodie up to reveal the matching silver-glitter covered black bralette. he moans at the sight of you; perky breasts and nipples hard underneath the lace, your eyes half-lidded in arousal. his hands reach out to grasp at your chest, thumbs dragging over your nipples, causing a shaky moan to fall from your lips at the friction. you reach to pull the hoodie off but lewis grunts in dissent, “nah, keep it on for me. just make sure it stays up, love.”

“ohmygod,” you giggle quietly, “you can just say you’re obsessed with fucking me in your clothes.”

lewis rolls his eyes at you, “okay: i’m obsessed with fucking you in my clothes. i love the way you smell like me after, i love the way your smell lingers when i wear them after you, i love the way you look in my clothes; if i could choose, i wish you’d only ever wear my clothes and have pretty lingerie underneath them all the time.”

you stare at him wide-eyed, not expecting him to flip your teasing words in that manner, maybe that’s why your panties suddenly feel a little wet. you bite your lip, trying to think of a way to regain the upper hand, and lewis clocks your eyes brightening.

“i fingered myself open for you last night. i’m sure you could still slip in, if you’re up for it.”

lewis chuckles, half-crazed, and murmurs, “if i’m up for it? promise me, if i ever say no to having sex with you that you’ll take me to see a doctor?”

you hum, hand shifting to rub at the nape of his neck, “i promise, baby. can you fuck me now—i fell asleep waiting for you last night.”

lewis quickly gets to work positioning your body. he spins you around to your side, your back pressed against his chest, and spreads your thighs open with his knee. you moan at his easy manhandling, and press your ass back to grind against the tent in his boxers. he encourages the movement of your hips, even directing the grind for a few beats before he halts your motions. his hand slips in between the two of you, and tugs his dick out. he pulls your panties to the side and slowly slips into you. your mouth drops open in a silent moan, overwhelmed by the stretch from his dick spreading you open. lewis sighs deeply as he bottoms out within you, and kisses you on the shoulder. he stays still, allowing you the time you need to adjust. you shift your hips gently, testing the feel, and hum in assent.

lewis moves his hand to find yours, and locks them over your navel, using them to pull you as close to his body as he can. he whispers softly, “can we take it nice and slow today? i want to make love to you today.”you hum, and it shifts to a whine as his hips gently rock into yours, and whimper out, “it’s your present—can use it however you want.”

lewis keeps the motion of hips slow and controlled, pulling out halfway before sinking in as deep as he can reach. it’s stunning how you can feel every bit of love lewis puts into his thrusts, seeping into you. he continues to pepper kisses on your neck and shoulder, and slips his other arm underneath you, and moving your body slowly so you twist back further, exposing your chest to him again. the hoodie remains bunched under your armpits, and lewis tugs the bralette down underneath your chest, causing your breasts to spill out lewdly over the top. his hand rests over your chest, not groping in any manner, just holding you close, feeling how your heartbeat speeds up from his movements.

in the decade you’ve been in a relationship with lewis, you’ve had some life-changing sex. but, for some reason, the slow and sensual sex has to be your favorite. it feels restorative, like he’s breathing life back into your body, with every deep thrust he’s showing you how much he loves you. and he’s not afraid to say it either.

“i love you, so much—you’re so good to me—my wonderful wife—all for me—all mine—i’ll make you feel so good, love—forever, yeah—you and me, like this—i win everything for you—“

you rock back against him, always weak when he can help but run his mouth, and start rambling back to him, mouth loose from the pleasure he continues to give to you, “my oh! my husband—only you for me, yeah?” he moans into your neck, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to you calling him your husband.

there’s no telling how long the two of you are wrapped together, neither you are in any rush to reach a climax—you both crave the intimacy sex like this provides, especially after he’s been away. your orgasms crest over your bodies slowly but they’re more satisfying than any other release you could get from rough sex. lewis continues to grind his dick in you as deep as he can, not making any motion to pull out, and ignores the building sensitivity he’s feeling.

lewis smiles at the blissed out look on your face, and watches how you struggle to open your eyes; he’s been fucking you back to sleep this whole time—that would explain why your rambles disappeared as you got closer to your peak. he tugs the hoodie back down over your chest, and one-handedly drags the duvet to cover your bodies, not wanting you to get cold. “hey, love,” he calls softly, “do you want me to pull out and clean you up?” you shake your head, and turn back onto your side fully, pressing you back to his chest again, and you start to doze off. lewis rubs at your waist gently, soothing you further into sleep—he’s never going to say no to having you keep his dick warm.

lewis carefully reaches towards the nightstand and grabs his phone, and quickly sets an hour alarm. he won’t let himself be fooled by the call of sleep and let the whole day fly by, like he did last night—he’d rather not be awoken by his angry wife screaming about uti’s and whatnot. he’ll just bathe in the afterglow while you sleep soundly; he just wants to look after you a little longer.

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mendessi · 2 months ago

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things i say when you sleep | chapter twelve

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc

word count: 5.6k

chapter summary: Aretia still stands.

content warning: fourth wing spoilers

AO3 masterlist

b o d h i

Malek, please don't take her from me.

I swear to you I will never ask for anything else.

Malek, you cannot have her. Not yet.

"Bodhi, we need to move." Garrick's words snap me back into reality. Garrick kneels and lifts her into his arms, and I move away, holding her tightly to my chest.

"Let me," I say, and he shakes his head.

"Your arm is fucking broken, Bodhi. Let me help." Garrick kneels once more, and I don't object

He's in a better state to carry her after the way a venin damn near snapped my arm in half. I should've never lost sight of her.

"Is she alive?" I ask Gleigeal. In response to my direct eye contact, a deep grumble resonates in his throat, but I don't care. "Tell me!"

"She lives for now," Cuir says.

"You need to hold it together. For her." Garrick demands as he looks down at her in his arms. "You can't lose it right now."

She looks so peaceful, like she's in nothing but a deep sleep. She's paler than I've ever seen, making my heartbeat stutter.

You cannot have her, Malek. You will take me too if you take her.

When we find a meeting place with the others, Garrick sits on the ground, still holding Ania in his arms. I want to hold her. I want to feel her chest rise and fall, no matter how shallow, just to ensure that she's still living. Xaden has Violet in his arms, and nausea sits in my stomach. He can't lose both. I don't know if that is something my cousin would survive.

"What the hell happened?" He yells when he looks at Ania. "You were supposed to keep eyes on her!"

"I did my best!" I match his volume, sitting on my knees next to Garrick. I brush the hair from her face and then rest the back of my hand against her forehead. She's burning up.

"Gleigeal says she was forced to dismount and engaged in hand to hand with a venin," Cuir tells me. I think Sgayel relays the same to Xaden because he drops his head with a sigh. "This was after she took the pain from Deigh's rider."

"I should've never brought her here. I should've never brought either of them," Xaden sighs, tugging at his hair.

"You did what you thought was right. There was no way to know any of this would've happened." Garrick says to Xaden. He shoots me a look, and I take it as him telling me not to get into it with Xaden right now.

There was discontent amongst the group for several minutes before Xaden ordered we were taking both of them to Aretia.

I haven't even been able to tell Ani that parts of our home still stand. If she lives through this flight, there's a chance she'll never forgive me for keeping that from her.

Cuir and Gleigeal seem to be in an argument, both of them baring their teeth at one another when we're getting ready to mount. Gleigeal even snaps his teeth at Cuir at one point.

"What? What is it?" I ask down my bond.

"We are debating who will carry Ania to Aretia," Cuir tells me. I shake my head and look up at Ania's dragon.

"She's coming with me on Cuir. I swear to you, she will be safe with me," I tell Gleigeal. I'm sure once Ania wakes up from this, if she wakes up from this, my days of speaking directly to Gleigeal will halt.

Gleigeal snaps his jaw too close for comfort in my direction, and Cuir returns the favor to him.

"Please don't kill each other," I tell my dragon.

Garrick helps me mount with Ania and ensures that she's secure. He offers to take her on Chadrh, but I decline. I need my eyes on her. The entire reason she's in this state is because I didn't keep my eyes on her.

"They both will make it out of this, Bodhi," Garrick assures me, pressing his forehead to mine, and then he gives me a reassuring smile. "See you at home."

During the four-hour flight, I can't stop checking her pulse to make sure she's still with me. Gleigeal would one hundred percent let us know if she weren't, but I need the confirmation myself.

There is so much I need to tell her. So much I need her to know.

Our home is being rebuilt. Riorson House still stands tall. The library she knows and loves so much will be waiting for her when she wakes up. There's an entire case of Beckett's belongings that sit in the old guest room where she spent so many nights. Xaden designated it to her and her only. She now has a permanent room that is all her own.

I want to finish my conversation with her. There's no doubt in mind she feels the same way I do. It was said without being said in the way we kissed before launching into Athebyne.

"Malek can't have you," I say under my breath as I hold her to my chest. "You are not his to have. Please fight this, Ani, please."

Garrick is there to help when we land in the courtyard at Riorson House. Cuir makes it as easy as possible, and I'm grateful when Garrick once again takes her into his arms. Cuir was helpful, but holding her weight with a broken arm was not helpful to the injury.

Xaden is already inside looking for Brennan, who I'm sure is aware of our arrival.

"How is she doing?" Imogen asks me. She's never really cared for Ania, especially after her disinterest in spending time with anyone with a relic, but concern is etched on her face, and I know it's genuine.

"She's breathing; that's all I care about," I tell her as we file in behind Xaden.

Brennan is not particularly happy to see us, knowing how much we've risked showing up here. I don't care. He's not only the only one who can save Violet, but he also has experience in witnessing a rider burnout. Surely, he can fix Ania, too.

I don't allow my anger to consume me when he chooses to help Violet first. I need to think logically. Violet is in a far more critical condition than Ania and needs care first.

Xaden nods at me once before he disappears into his room with Violet. Garrick and I take Ani to the healers so that they can try to evaluate her before Brennan can come.

I don't leave her side while they begin their work. Another healer wraps my arm into a sling, which I'm grateful for. The adrenaline had long worn off, and the pain was setting in. Garrick sits across the room as a healer applies some type of ointment to the new gash that stretches from his temple to jaw.

She is everything to me and more, and the ache in my chest that resonates with the idea of losing her is shattering. How do riders recover from burnout? We've all neared burnout at least once while learning how to control our power, but what happens when you're pushed past it? What happens when a dark wielder draws power out of you? How much did he take from her?

The gray prints on her wrists make me sick. What did she go through before Garrick and I got there?

She's stable when Brennan arrives hours later. Garrick left to check on Violet and Xaden, so Ani and I were the only ones left in the infirmary.

"Is Violet okay?" I ask, sitting up in my chair.

"She's out of critical condition. We'll see if she wakes up," Brennan says, running his hand over his face with a sigh.

He turns to the healers, speaking in terms I don't understand.

He places his hands on her wrists and examines them closely.

"Will she die from this?" I ask, my voice cracking.

He doesn't answer for a few moments, and I see her muscles tense when he closes his eyes. He must be mending something.

"Her hip fractured, which is a painful thing to mend," He starts. "I don't want to touch that til she wakes up. What is it that she wields?"

"Light," I reply.

"Interesting." He nods before he leans forward and puts his hands over her again. He spends an hour hovering his hands over her, touching her in different places. When he finally pulls back, he calls another healer over and whispers something in her ear.

"I think she'll be okay." Brennan nods, and I sigh with relief. "There is only so much I can do when it comes to something like burnout. I can fix the nerve damage in her fingers and hands, but everything else will fix itself in time. She'll regenerate in a way, if that makes sense."

"And her hip?" I ask.

"When she wakes, we can see what she wants to do. The mending might be worse than what she already feels." He pats my shoulder. "Just give her time to wake up. I'll have them transfer her to her room."

Garrick finds me just as the healers are leaving her room. It's practically untouched from six years ago.

"What did he say?" Garrick asks. He looks exhausted.

"She'll be fine. We just have to wait for her to wake up," I nod.

"Good," He nods. "Good."

"Violet?"

"It's up in the air," He replies, and I shake my head. How did this turn so south?

The hard exterior I've put on since we left Resson cracks, and a sob escapes my lips. I don't know the last time I've cried like this, but I also don't know the last time I was this terrified. Too much was on the line, and we were too underprepared.

The relief in hearing that Ania will wake up from this is overwhelming.

"It's okay, brother. Let it out." Garrick pulls me into a hug and lets me cry.

a n i a

There's a dull ache that throbs throughout my entire body.

My fingers feel numb when I try to move them. The door to the Riorson House library is still locked no matter how hard I yank the door handle. It looks the same as it has the past couple of times I've checked. A fucking disaster.

Every time I reach down the bond that Gleigeal and I share, I'm met with silence. Is he dead? Am I dead? Why am I back on the outside looking in? Why am I being cut off from my power?

"Gleigeal?" I call out loud. Did he die in Resson? Am I trapped in a personal hell? I groan in frustration and sit against the stone wall across from the doors to the library.

It feels like hours, but it could've been minutes. I have no concept of time here. A small click echoes through the corridor, and my head shoots up.

When I reach for the handle this time, it's unlocked.

Sunlight dully streams in through the window, and I reach for the curtain. When I finally pull it open, the light pours in intensely, and I have to shield my eyes.

"Ania?"

My arms feel heavy when I raise them to cover my eyes from the sun that streams in through the curtains. There's movement, and a moment later, shade envelops the room. I slowly open my eyes and stretch, the tension struggling to leave my body. I move too far and hiss at the sharp pain in my hip.

Bodhi sits in a chair next to the bed, his arm resting against his chest in a sling. He has restlessness all over his face, and I hate how exhausted he looks. I want to lift the blanket and have him join me in bed for the rest of forever.

"Hi, sunshine," He whispers, raising his thumb to brush against my cheek.

"Where are we at?" I ask. My voice is raspy like it had been after Threshing.

"You don't recognize it?" He asks softly. He helps me sit up, and I look closer.

The stone walls are hard to ignore. The second I see the deep red curtains with gold detailing that line the floor-to-ceiling windows, I know exactly where I am.

"But how?"

He leans forward and takes my hand into his, "Riorson House never burned."

Nodding slowly, I continue to look around the room. I spent so many nights of my life in this room. It was just a guest room to those who owned the house, but to me, it was a second home. It looked just as I'd left it, the armoire and bed still in the same place; the only difference was the bedding. My old, stuffed bear that Fen had gifted me for a birthday was on a chair in the corner of the room. This room was irrevocably mine.

"What happened?" I finally ask. The last twenty-four hours are annoyingly fuzzy in my mind, and the strain it takes to try and remember them makes my head pound.

"You reached a point of burnout." He says.

I hum in response. That must explain why my entire body feels like jello. I try to shift, but the pain in my hip makes it nearly unbearable, and I wince.

"Is Gleigeal-"

"He's in the valley." Every word that leaves his mouth is laced with a gentleness I've never heard.

"Did everyone make it? Is everyone here?" My breath is starting to pick up, and he cups my cheek with the hand not in a sling.

"Hey," he calmly says. I reach for his emotions, but I'm cut off. Gleigeal has the channel shut. "Take a deep breath."

I do as he says, and then he nods, giving me a moment to compose myself.

"Liam and Soleil didn't make it," He tells me, and the flow of tears is near immediate. "Violet is recovering in Xaden's room, but she's been out since we left Resson."

"How long ago was Resson?" I ask. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Thirty hours ago," Bodhi tells me, and I run a hand through my tangled hair.

I'd been out for thirty hours.

Liam and Soleil are dead.

The memory is still hazy, but Liam's death is slowly coming back to me. I did what I could to give him peace, and it nearly killed me in the process.

"Look at me, Ani." He says, "You fought well. You kept yourself alive against all odds."

The look on his face tells me he's not ready to share how he really feels about what happened, so I don't pry.

"I'm gonna go tell Xaden you're awake." He kisses my forehead and then leaves the room without another word.

I'm asleep when he returns. My body still feels so tired, and keeping my eyes open feels like an impossible task. There's not enough sleep in the world that will sate the exhaustion that has made a home in my body.

When I wake up, the sun is still shining through the curtains, and I'm slightly confused. Bodhi isn't in the chair, which means I'm still alone.

I try to move, but the pain from my hip that shoots down my leg is too much. Gods, how am I supposed to fly like this?

There's a knock on the door, and before I can reply, Garrick appears with two crutches in his hand. He sets them against the wall and then crosses the room.

"There she is. Another thirteen hours later." He smiles, pulling the chair up, "I didn't know a human could sleep so much."

"Is Violet okay?" I ask.

"She's still out. But the poison is subsiding." He tells me, and I nod. "How are you feeling, little Alistair?"

"Like I got stepped on by a dragon," I sigh. "Where is Bodhi?"

"He's getting his arm checked out by a healer," He says, and I hum. "I thought you and I could go for a little walk? Brennan says now that you're awake, we should try to get you out of bed."

"Sure," I say.

He grabs the crutches from the other side of the room and then helps me from the bed. The pain brings tears to my eyes, but I breathe through it. Garrick and I walk slowly through the halls, and I'm grateful when he stops so I can take a break. My hands still feel numb, so trying to use crutches feels tricky.

It's surreal walking around Riorson House. So much is still the same, yet it still feels so different. It's hard to put into words that it's still here when I spent the last six years of my life mourning it.

Garrick leads me right where I want to go: the library. It looks exactly as the last day I saw it.

I don't know why I keep feeling the need to cry, but I take a seat at the table that sits in front of one of the windows overlooking Aretia. This had always been my favorite corner to sit in.

"You okay?" He asks, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Want me to give you a second?"

"Yes, please," I reply quietly.

His footsteps trail out of the library, and when I hear the door close, tears begin to stream from my eyes. I hardly cried anymore since my parents died, but the weight of the past couple of days sits on my chest, forcing it out of me. I rest my face in my hands and let myself cry until there are no more tears.

"Ania." Garrick appears once more when I struggle to stand from the chair. I know he's been watching, but I'm grateful he's given me space until I needed it. "Brennan says he has time right now to mend your hip if you want."

The pain of mending it sounds worse than anything at the moment, but at least I can actually move on my own if I get it done. I sigh before giving him a nod, and then we're off to the healers.

"Where is Bodhi?" I ask again. He's not here getting his arm checked out.

"Resting, I think," Garrick tells me, and I'm beginning to catch up on the lie. He's avoiding me.

"It's a good sign that you're up," Brennan tells me when he comes into the room. "Ready?"

"Ready as I can be."

Garrick is my hand to squeeze while I bite down on a strap of leather. If I weren't so exhausted from burning out, I'm confident I wouldn't have passed out from the pain of mending. It hurts like a bitch but at least I can walk again. The ache is dull, but with time, it'll return to normal.

"Where is he now?" I ask again as we exit the healers. "And don't lie to me."

"Truthfully, I don't know, Ania." He runs a hand through his hair.

"Why is he avoiding me?" The hurt in my voice is hard to hide.

"He's holding guilt for what happened," Garrick tells me, and I sigh.

"Of course. I appreciate you trying to protect me." I say sharply before turning away from him. Gratitude fills me when he doesn't follow.

I find myself back in the library at my favorite table. My hands are folded on the desk, and I have my eyes closed.

The library in which I ground is in desperate need of tidying. It takes what feels like hours to lift the bookshelves one by one, which I have to do with my hands since Gleigeal has the channel shut off. Once everything is back where it should be, I take the time to perfect how it looks. I never did properly finish constructing it because my memory of it had felt so distant, but sitting here was more helpful than ever.

I'm pulled from the library in my mind when I hear Xaden's voice.

"Hi," I stand from the chair. "Violet, is she...?"

"Still asleep," He says. If that's the case, I'm surprised he's standing in front of me. From what I'd been told by Garrick, Xaden had refused to leave her side since we arrived in Aretia.

"She'll be okay," I hopefully tell him.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I haven't come to check on you." He steps closer to me.

Between Bodhi hiding from me and Xaden being glued to Violet's side, in the end, I suppose I'm quite grateful Garrick got me out of bed today.

"It's okay," I shrug. "It's the same in which you 'lost' me at Threshing, no? It all comes down to her."

The harshness isn't something I expect off my tongue. Today has just been entirely overwhelming, and he's the first person I've been able to direct my anger at. I more than understand his connection to Violet. It's nearly identical to the one I share with his cousin. But for someone who claims I'm like a sister to him, the effort on his part is lacking.

"That's fair." He sighs and leans against the table. "I deserve that."

"Yeah, you do." I fold my arms over my chest.

He stares at me in silence for a moment, gathering his words. I wish I could get a read on him, but despite the library being damn near perfect, nothing is streaming from the window.

"When Violet got hurt, everything got turned upside down," He begins. "When Garrick showed up with you, too. Looking the way you did... I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life, Ania."

"Because of your promise to Beckett."

"No, Ania." He's stern. "Because of my promise to myself. I fucked up and I didn't handle this accordingly and if I could go back, I'd do just about everything differently. What matters to me is that you're alive and well and that Violet wakes up. If you want to be mad at me, then I'll accept every ounce of your anger until you're ready to forgive me."

"I'm sorry," I run my hands over my face, "Garrick seems to be the only one who-"

"Where is Bodhi?" He asks.

"Fuck if I know," I scoff. "I'm really tired, so I'm just gonna go back to bed."

"He's supposed to be keeping an eye on you." Xaden's jaw clenches.

"Well, he's not." I unfold my arms and move to exit the library, but he grips my wrist and pulls me back toward him.

He catches my glare when I look up at him, but guilt settles in my chest when I see just how tired he actually is. It probably took a lot out of him to leave Violet just to have this short conversation with me, and I'm making it difficult. I have a bad habit of being unfair toward those who don't deserve it.

"I'm here for you, Ania," He says, "Whether you like it or not. This house is just as much yours as it is mine."

"Come get me when Violet wakes up." I pull away from him and make my way back to my room.

I take my time walking back to my room. I stop to view the paintings on the walls, some that I'd grown up around but never appreciated til now. I let my fingers brush against the cold stone, and I look out of every single window. This is just unbelievable, and I'm waiting for the second I wake up back in Basgiath to realize it was all a dream.

Sleep comes easily, and I'm convinced I'll never get enough.

I awake in the middle of the night with a gasp. The dream I had been having was already gone from my memory, but I know it wasn't pleasant.

The guest room, my room, feels so large when I sit up to look around. I feel like a child again, afraid of what is hiding in the shadows that shield the corners. An almost twenty-one-year-old shouldn't be afraid of the dark, but then I remembered the things I'd seen face to face just three days ago.

I crawl from the bed and exit my room. There's only one place I want to be, one person I want to see, and he's actively ignoring me.

My feet lead me to his room where he and Beckett would sleep when we'd spend the night.

I debate knocking, but the fear of rejection stops me. If it's locked, then it's no use either way because I can't wield my lesser magic. I try the handle and am slightly surprised when it opens.

His room is bigger than mine, and I'm thankful the moonlight lights it enough for me to see where I'm going. Bodhi's soft snores echo off the stone walls, and I stop myself from laughing. We'd tease him for it when we were younger, but he always responded that he "only snored when really tired".

"Bodhi," I whisper when I reach the edge of the bed. He's out cold. "Bodhi, wake up."

I sigh and contemplate. He'd always been such a deep sleeper.

After a long moment of debate, I lift the blanket and crawl into his bed. I leave an entire person's space between us, practically putting myself on the edge of the bed. I just don't want to be alone tonight, especially after the dreams I've just been subjected to.

The sheets smell so much like home, and I can't help but take a deep breath in. It relaxes me in a way, and before I know it, I'm falling back asleep.

The last thing I remember is his strong arms pulling my back into his chest and my breathing slowly syncing with his.

When I awake again, the bed is empty, and I can't deny the way my chest hurts.

I don't even bother stopping at my room to put on actual clothes before I storm towards the busy kitchen where I'm sure he'll be at this hour. Before anything, that man is always hungry.

"Hey," Garrick says, his eyes scanning my body quickly. "Did everything in your armoire catch on fire or something?"

I don't know what time it is, but it's early enough that it's still valid for me to be in my sleep gown. Smart ass.

"Haha, very funny." Sarcasm drips from my tone. "Where's Bodhi?"

"Are you going to kill him if I tell you?" Garrick snickers.

"I just might if he continues to avoid an actual conversation with me for a second longer," I tell him, folding my arms over my chest.

"Violet woke up not too long ago. Last I saw, he was checking in with Xaden." He says, and I nod heading toward Xaden's room.

I'm halfway down the corridor when Garrick calls my name. I turn around to look at him, and he's jogging to catch up with me.

"Take it easy on him, will you?" He grins.

Rolling my eyes, I turn on my heel resuming route to Xaden's. I'll be damned if I nearly died allow Bodhi to fucking ignore me. We walk together, and I notice that he has to slow his stride so that I can keep up. My limp isn't too noticeable, but it's still tender from Brennan's mending.

Xaden and Bodhi were standing outside his door, talking in hushed voices. When Bodhi's eyes land on me, he fidgets slightly, and part of me knows he is debating on if he should walk away from me.

"Ania, nice to see you out of bed." Xaden nods when we approach.

"Violet?" I ask. I want to see her.

"She's bathing," He replies. He looks like he just had a tough conversation and I'm assuming she must still be pissed we kept all of... this from her. To be fair, I was completely out of the loop on the whole Aretia is being rebuilt thing. "Did you ever figure out that box was that Chadrh was drawn to back at Resson?" He turns to Garrick. My eyes are locked on Bodhi, who is actively evading my eye contact.

"They're working on it right now. Hopefully, we'll have an answer in a couple of hours. I'm glad she's alright, Xaden. I'll tell the others." Garrick departs from us, leaving just me and the cousins.

Bodhi crinkles his nose, and Xaden glances sideways at him.

"What?" He's immediately defensive.

"You smell like dragon ass," Bodhi says, earning a laugh from me.

"Fuck off." Xaden huffs.

"He's not wrong." I bring my hand up to cover my nose.

"I'm using your room." He flips the both of us off and heads towards Bodhi's room.

Bodhi looks past me and watches his cousin disappear around the corner. It feels cruel at this point, and I can't deny the way it makes my eyes sting.

"Are you going to talk to me?" It's less of a question.

"I'm keeping my distance for a reason, Ania." My full name coming off his lips hurts like hell.

"Then fucking tell me your reason, Bodhi." I step toward him. Control is something I lack right now, and my quickness to anger shocks me.

He's silent.

"Are you mad at me for something?" I ask.

"Not at all." He finally looks at me.

"Are you sure?" I can feel my eyes involuntarily soften. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, Ania." He shakes his head.

What changed? From before Resson to now, when our feelings entangled as one? Is it because I'm cut off from my power? Was I unintentionally pushing my emotions onto him this entire time? Nausea settles in my stomach at the thought.

"Did you decide that fucking me was enough? You're just done with me now?" I raise my voice, anger threatening to consume me.

"Gods no, Ania, what the fuck?" He exasperates. He turns away from me and tugs his hands through his hair.

"Then what, Bodhi? Why are you so hellbent on having nothing to do with me?" I'm fuming.

There is no logical explanation for the way he's treating me. I nearly fucking died. Died. In his arms, without telling him how I feel, without him telling me how he feels. I'm second-guessing everything now that Gleigeal has the channel closed. Maybe he didn't feel that way at all, and it was all me. The idea is nauseating, and I have to force it to leave my head.

He sat by my bed until I woke up. Why would he let me crawl into his bed last night while I was afraid? He wrapped his arms around me until I fell back asleep. Those things happened after the channel was closed; that couldn't have been me.

"Say something!" I shout.

"Because I almost lost you!" His voice cracks when he finally turns to look back at me. His brows are furrowed, and he has a frown where his usual perfect smile is.

Any words I had planned on returning to him die in my throat.

"I..." He takes a breath. "I took my eyes off of you for two minutes, Ani. Two. That's all it took. Then the next time I saw you, you were dying. I had to hold you and not know if it'd be the last time I looked in your eyes. Not know if I'd be forced to live the rest of my life without you in it. I didn't care if you hated me for keeping Aretia a secret; I just needed you to live. And I was so mad at you when Cuir told me you took Liam's pain. So angry that you'd take that risk when you've never done something like that before-"

"I made my choice for Liam!"

"Let me finish, Ani." He cuts me off. "I shouldn't have lost sight of you. If you'd been by my side, you would've been okay. I know that you can handle your own, and I will always trust you to do so, but this one time, the one time you needed me, I wasn't there. It kills me to know that you suffered because I couldn't be there."

"It's not your fault, Bodhi-" I attempt. His words are strained, and I know I just need to let him finish.

"When I didn't know if you'd wake up or not, I just kept trying to imagine how I would move on without you, and it's impossible. There is not a life, this one or the next, that I would be able to live devoid of you because you are a piece of me that I simply cannot exist without."

My silence is loud, but I just don't have the words to follow up. His words have my heart pounding, the translation is clear as day.

"You don't understand how scared I was." He whispers, and I almost think he might cry. "I can't lose you."

Finding the right words at this moment feels impossible. There is nothing I could say that would ease the fear and anxiety that he's let build up in his chest since Resson. This version of him is one I've never seen before. He's always the light in the room, always making sure that everyone else around him is smiling. He's been through hell the past couple of days, and it shows in his face.

The words come to me and roll off my tongue before I have time to think.

"I love you too."

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magicalqueennightmare · 2 months ago

Text

Hurricane Weather

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Nicknamed Belle)

Bucky happens to get stuck in town with you and the Wilsons when a hurricane hits

You were helping Mr Kelson to board up the general store’s windows. Sarah had already called to make sure you were off and would be headed her way soon after the news reported that Marlowe had shifted again and your town would more than likely get hit. Everyone was scrambling to do last minute prep before hunkering down.

Once the last board was up he nodded to you “Get on home to Sarah and the boys sweetheart” you smiled “Yes sir. I’m going to check on the Matthews too and make sure they’re good on sandbags on the way” you headed for your jeep and hopped in, checking your phone to see you now had a text from Sam flights are grounded. Sarah said to ask you where to help prep. I got the tin man in tow

You definitely smiled at knowing Sam would be here with you, Sarah and the boys not at the mention of Bucky before texting back Sarah made sure the boat was secure and my place is set. Double check the back of Sarah’s then meet me in the town square to grab sandbags so if any of the neighbors may need them

It wasn’t long and he texted back copy that you laid your phone down and headed for the town square where sandbags were being filled. It normally wouldn’t cause this big of a panic, hell a hurricane was just a Wednesday around the coast but this was a big one.

You were on the side of the sandpile helping to fill bags when you heard Sam call your name so you whistled “Over here Sam!” and cut your eyes up to see him and Bucky. “Where ya need us?” Sam asked so you nodded to the stack of bags “Start filling and filling fast. Landfall is supposed to be between nine and twelve. So everyone has to get their places secure before dark falls because it’s gonna get messy and fast”

The two of them fell in next to you and within about twenty minutes with the other four people that were filling bags as well the job was done. You looked up and nodded at the stack of filled bags “Let's grab some of them for the back side of Sarah’s place and some for the Matthews place, crap Heather’s husband just deployed she may need help hunkering down with the kids and her parents too”

Sam held a hand out to you “Take a breath! I’ll take the bags to the Matthews and Sarah. Take Bucky with you to Heather’s” you looked at Bucky “Is that ok with you?” he nodded “Yeah Doll, I’m happy to help wherever I can” you smiled “Ok, thank you um can you put about ten of those in the back of my jeep in that case? Just move the bags of food I grabbed over to the backseat if you need to” he nodded “Ok, I can handle that” and grabbed a stack of bags.

You raised an eyebrow because knowing how strong he was and seeing how strong he was, well it was two completely different things. Those bags weighed about fifty pounds each. “Wipe your chin Belle, got some drool there” Sam teased and you elbowed him in the stomach “Bite me Sam” he laughed and rubbed where you caught him “You didn’t deny it”

You shook your head “You’re a pain in the ass” he grinned “I’m practically your brother. What good would I be if I wasn’t?” you laughed “Well we need to get your truck loaded” he grinned “Just bat your eyes at Bucky” you felt your face warm and shot him a glare which just made him laugh.

“Ok Heather, that should do it and as soon as the sun rises I’ll be over” you told her as you and Bucky finished helping her father get the storm shutters on the house. She gave you a smile “Thanks so much Belle. Daddy would’ve been out here for hours trying to get this and the sandbags in place by himself”

You nodded towards Bucky “He takes the credit for the sandbags. I would’ve been carrying one at a time” she smiled and offered her hand “Thank you for your help Mr Barnes” he cut his eyes at you and a small smile slipped onto his face “Happy to help”

You felt a smile slip onto your face as Heather ran a hand over her stomach “Baby girl doing backflips?” you asked and she nodded “I think the weather has her acting up” you grimaced “Let’s try to keep her in? You got that radio charged up don’t you? Just in case you need an ambulance and phone lines go down?” she nodded “I got it all charged” then looked at Bucky “Her and Sarah got this from Mrs Wilson. That woman always took care of everyone so she taught her girls to do the same”

Bucky smiled “Between those two being like this and Sam being Captain America sounds like she’d be a proud woman” you felt your face warm before you said “I know she’d be proud of Sam and Sarah and would like to think she’d be proud of how me and my brother turned out too since the best parts of us is what she taught us”

You looked back at Heather “We’re gonna get going before the weather gets any worse. You get inside now. I got a radio at Sarah’s. Channel fourteen if you need me” she nodded “Fourteen, got it” and turned to waddle back inside. Her father Frank walked to the door then “Thank you Belle” and held his hand out to Bucky “And thank you Sergeant Barnes” “Happy to help sir”

Bucky watched you walk up the steps to Sarah’s carrying one of the four grocery bags. He’d try to carry them all but you wouldn’t let him which was ridiculous considering. You walked into the door and called for Cass and Aj who came running around the corner “Auntie Belle!” he smiled at the fact that most of the town called you by your nickname over your actual name. He’d watched you fill sandbags then hang storm shutters and comfort neighbors. Now here you were giving the boys snacks and assuring them everything was going to be ok.

Was there anything you couldn’t do at this point? You were a force of nature in itself. Marlowe should be afraid of you. He carried the bags into the kitchen and sat them down on the counter then went back for the cases of water you’d grabbed too.

When he walked back into the door you were unloading the bags and looked up at him with a grin “This is your first hurricane isn’t it Brooklyn boy?” he nodded “Yes ma’am” “Have fun” you laughed lightly with a small grimace.

_______________________

The boys went to bed around eight thirty. You, Sarah, Sam and Bucky had the weather channel on as the storm started rolling in. The winds picking up were the first signs it was starting to get bad. When your phones went off with tornado warnings around ten fifteen you hurried to get Cass up while Sarah got Aj and all of you moved to a back closet that didn’t have a window.

It would be a tight fit but Bucky sat on one far side, Sam on the other with you, Sarah and the boys in the middle. You could handle a lot but when a loud slam hit the side of the house and the lights went out you jumped and curled yourself into Bucky’s side, pulling his left arm tightly around your waist in the dark. “Please stay close to me” you whispered.

You had to stay calm for the boys but christ you were freaking out a little. “I got you” he whispered and you tucked yourself closer to his chest, pulling Cass into yours as the winds got louder outside along with the thunder rumbling and what sounded like debris slamming into the house.

____________________

Bucky was sitting there, listening to the winds outside. He was trying to ignore how much it sounded like a train, how much that bothered him. When a loud slam hit the house and the lights went off he heard you gasp lightly and felt you curl into his side right before you grabbed his left arm, pulling it around you. “Please stay close to me” you begged. This head strong woman that was just running around hours before, taking charge of a situation making sure everyone was taking care of was needing comfort from him? You were finding comfort in him?

“I got you” he whispered, turning enough you could tuck yourself firmly against his chest. You nuzzled into him, pulling Cass with you, your grip tightening on his vibranium arm every time a piece of debris hit the house. “You’re safe” he whispered into your hair and you relaxed, running your hand down Cass’ back as the boy fell back asleep against you.

You and Sarah both ended up falling asleep. She was leaning against Sam’s shoulder with Aj firmly against her chest and you were curled against Bucky’s chest with Cass against yours. Bucky hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you.

“Bucky” Sam whispered and he cut his eyes over at him. Sam grinned “You look like a puppy man” “Shut up” he replied and Sam grinned slightly as you started to stir. You looked up at him and smiled “Sorry for falling asleep on you” he shook his head “Helped me too, the wind sounded a little too much like a train for my liking”

___________________

You hadn’t even thought about that. “Oh crap, Bucky I didn’t even think” you whispered as Cass started to stir. He rubbed his face “Is it ok?” you nodded “Yeah buddy” he sat up so you looked back at Bucky “Are you ok?” he nodded “I forgot about it quick enough” and you felt your face warm until you realized it was over. You looked over to see Sarah was waking up too. She cut her eyes at you “Ready to get to work?”

You yawned and nodded “Let’s get on it” you stretched out as you got to your feet. “Boys, go get some poptarts or something” they both headed for the kitchen. You and Sarah followed them. You could hear Bucky asking Sam what you were doing. “Clean up” Sam replied.

_________________

Bucky followed behind you, Sam and Sarah out of the front door. Debris filled the yard but it looked like everyone’s cars had fared well. You stood in front of your jeep and nodded “She made it!” then turned to look at him with a grin “We got neighbors to check on. The Matthews are Seventy two and Seventy three. Heather and her family, the Hendersons and Mr Kelson may need help if the general store got hit” he watched you with a small smile “Anywhere you need me, just tell me”

He was honestly in awe of you and Sarah. Sam, he knew he did this stuff but you two were extraordinary. You’d been on the verge of a panic attack hours before, hiding it so the boys wouldn’t panic and now here you were acting like nothing had happened to help everyone get their lives back in order.

You grinned “Good, because last time we waited three days to get heavy stuff moved and I hate to use you like that but we had to cut into the side of someone’s house to get them out because of a tree blocking the door we couldn’t move” he shook his head “Not this time. Let’s go”

Sam laughed “Yall heard tin man. Let’s start the clean up effort because our place managed good again”

The highschool had generators so while the linemen were working to get power back on a few local restaurants had come together to empty their freezers and cook what was going to go bad anyways to supply warm meals to the town.

You sat down next to Bucky outside where there were tents set up. Sarah and Sam were with some neighbours talking while Cass and Aj played with some of their friends. “How's the food?” you asked, knocking your shoulder against his. He smiled at you “It’s good”

You nodded “Um about last night. Thank you for letting me hold onto you when I freaked” he shook his head “It helped me too honestly. The wind..sounded a lot like a train and my head was not in a good place until you grabbed my arm” you smiled slightly “So my freak out stopped yours?” he laughed lightly “I guess so? Yeah?”

You shrugged “Guess it was worth it then. Look at it this way Brooklyn. You survived your first hurricane” he looked at you for a moment then smiled “Here’s to surviving more”

@desimarie12

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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mrsnishimuraaa · 2 months ago

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valentines trip

sunghoon x 8th member f! reader

i actually came up with this in the shower lmfao, sorry it’s a bit short maybe rushed but i couldn’t hold the idea in but i also have to go to school in the morning 😭 enjoy !

m.list

feb 13th 4:00AM

your woken to the sound of an alarm, that’s definitely wasn’t yours you literally all had the week off, turning to look at the bed across from yours you see sunghoon sitting up “what are you doing” your voice is quiet and laced with confusion, sitting up yourself as he turns on the big light in your shared room earning a groan from you. “pack your bags” he says plainly, sliding your suitcase toward the end of your bed “sorry what? sunghoon it’s literally dark outside” your insanely confused, checking your phone as it reads 4am “it’s four in the morning hoon” you say brushing the hair out of your face.

“just pack your bags we are going somewhere” “sunghoon. we have the week off where could we possibly be going?” “ y/n stop asking questions and pack” he laughs, watching you slowly arise from bed as you make your way to the closet “can you atleast tell me where we are going at four in the morning” you ask, unzipping your suitcase

“the airport”

“what?”

“what do you mean the airport, sunghoon we are on break” your confusion cracks him up, his laughter overtaking your ears. “im taking you somewhere” his voice sincere as you watch him pack some of his most expensive clothes, including a suit. “what are you packing a suit for?” you almost snort, you get he’s big on fashion but really?. “pack a really nice outfit please, like really nice” he asks softly as he throws the last few things in his own suitcase. you give him a questioning look but yet comply.

“so where are we going?” you ask, still confused “take a guess” “i don’t know? jeju island?” “no, no it’s far away” “oh i know! japan” “no further” “i don’t know just tell me” “ sydney” “like the sydney in australia” “yes where else?”

your left so confused, why would he take you to sydney for apparent no reason. “it’s valentine’s day tomorrow and we haven’t had a valentine like ever so i thought id take us somewhere” he finally gives you the information you had been needing for almost an hour. how sweet of him, your confusion finally passes and you just can’t help but hug the boy.

after making it to the airport successfully without being followed by saesangs surprisingly, you both check in, but as you grab your ticket from the machine and skim through it to make sure all the information was correct “business class?” you look up at him seeing the smile on his face “park sunghoon.” you shove his shoulder lightly as he laughs “i can’t help myself i need to spoil you” his hand brushes over the small of your back, encouraging you to scurry on towards the gate to board your flight.

after landing in sydney after what felt like a million years, it was immediately 3x hotter than korea, the two of you regretting wearing prada jackets almost immediately but at the same time praying you don’t get recognised. after getting your bags and making it through customs, you head toward the taxi area.

the taxi had taken you to your hotel, which you known all too well the ‘crown’ you really can’t belive he went all out like this for valentine’s day. deciding to drop off your bags and luggage in reception before heading off together to go for a walk, admiring the pretty views the city offers without the stress of the public eye, yet still being cautious just in case “ i can’t belive you hoon” your protest only makes him laugh, he seriously just wants to spoil you rotten.

that afternoon he takes you out shopping, following you around through stores and helping you pick out clothing, all while holding all your purchases but he really thinks there is nothing better in the world he could be doing right now.

feb 14th 7:30PM

you now find the two of you out for dinner in one of the most fine dining experiences you might have ever been to, in a high rise building with a gorgeous view of the city, and of course park sunghoon. both dressed in expensive clothing as you laugh and conversate, the sensual feeling of it all yet you feel so relaxed and safe with him and in this moment. you give a look of confusion when he reaches into his bag, pulling out a small bag and passing it to you. “no you didn’t” you gasp, prying open the cartier bag as he sits back and smirks. observing the way your eyes light up at the sight of a gold ring and braclet “sunghoon” you look him in the eye, you want to kiss him so badly right now.

but when you really think that’s all, after loosing the fight to pay for the extremely expensive dinner, you come back to your hotel room decorated, roses and balloons on the wall as candles and petals scatter the room, your eyes light up turning to sunghoon as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“happy valentine’s day baby” he smiles at you before pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

well say you didn’t get any sleep that night

#enhypen #kpop #enhypen thoughts #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

How You Play the Game Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was miserable without you, and the pain just wasn't lessening even though you left him weeks ago. He needed to find a way to move on, because you didn't want him, and you weren't coming back. But he should have known there was no substitute for the best thing he'd ever had.

Warnings: Swears, broken heart, angst, consensual sex, sex with a condom while intoxicated (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Weeks later...

As you flew to Vancouver from Detroit, you thought about that six hour flight to Boston where you hadn't stopped crying for a single minute. You thought about leaving San Diego and how it broke your heart to move on to the next city and the next assignment. At least this time you had a window seat instead of the middle seat in the last row. And this time you weren't continually wiping your tears on Bradley's Padres jersey.

You had his jersey on again today, but this time you felt calm as you reached into your bag to take out your computer and read over the research you'd outlined about the Vancouver Canucks. Your eyes caught on the blue golf ball, and after a second of hesitation, you reached for that instead.

You'd taken it everywhere with you. It joined you in every hotel room, on every flight and in every rental car. You had it with you in your tote bag when you were in Boston about a month ago working on the exclusive with the Bruins' coaching staff. You were carrying it when you bumped into Abigail Archer for the first time in person.

With your article completely forgotten now, you dug your phone out of your pocket. It was in airplane mode, but you took a deep breath and unlocked it. You had to scroll a bit to get to the text thread with Bradley, and then you tapped his name and you almost let the tears rise to the surface. You held them back as you read the series of sporadic messages he'd sent you since early November.

I miss you.

Did you make it to Boston safely?

Ace, please call me back. I miss you so much.

I have this whole weekend off, and I can't help but think it would be easy for me to fly to wherever you are. If you would want that.

I still miss you.

I hope you're doing well.

You hadn't responded to a single one of them. And you never called him back either. But sometimes, when you were in a hotel room in a city that you couldn't even identify without looking at your calendar app, you'd get lonely enough to listen to his voicemail message. See ya, Ace.

It took until you met Bradley Bradshaw for you to really understand just how lonely you were. Going back to your apartment in New York City didn't feel like going home. There was nothing there that made you smile. There were no baseball cards or too small Angels tee shirts. There was no Bradley making sure you were taking a break when you needed one.

And he was part of the reason why you let yourself start to be convinced that you could have more out of your career. Maybe he was right. Somebody else might have something better to offer than Greg or the New York Times. When you talked to Abigail and started to test the waters, it wasn't as terrifying as you thought it would be. Making some calls to see what else was out there ended up validating one fact for you: Bradley was right, your writing was in high demand.

But you had to complete your contract with Greg before you could do much else. And that included Detroit and Vancouver. But you hoped after this, your work-life balance might improve. If you decided to take this information back to Bradley, you hoped he would listen to you. Maybe he would even see what you wrote about your career change in your Detroit Red Wings article. If he was even still reading your articles. There was a chance he might still miss you now, and maybe he'd understand that you needed to see the bigger picture for yourself first.

Before you left him alone in his bed, he told you that you knew where to find him. He made you feel like it was still okay to go there.

--------------------------

Bradley walked past his coffee table dressed in his flight suit with his travel mug of coffee in his hand. He paused at the front door and looked back at the mess he still couldn't bring himself to clean up. You left him weeks ago, damn near a month ago, but he just couldn't bring himself to clean up all of the fucking baseball cards.

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was being ridiculous. He was never ridiculous before he met you, so you must have made him this way. Every time he tried to clean them up and put them back out in his garage, his hands faltered and he left the cards out on the table. It was like some sort of sick reminder that you'd really been here with him. It was a way to convince himself he didn't imagine up the perfect woman in his mind and then have to live through the aftermath of watching her leave.

He tightened his fingers around his mug and rubbed the heel of his other hand against his eyes. Then he took his phone out. He knew he shouldn't do it since you never answered his other messages before, but he texted you anyway.

I hope you're doing well.

When he re-read what he'd sent, he started to panic. It sort of sounded like he meant it with an air of finality. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he didn't want to hear from you, because it was quite the opposite. There were times when he felt so lonely, he'd have done anything for you to write to him or call him back.

He swore he could still smell you in his house, and right now it felt a little too much like you were there. He wrenched his front door open and slammed it closed behind him, breathing in the crisp December morning air. He had to start making some changes, and he needed to do it this week. You weren't going to respond to him. After four weeks he should accept that as a fact and stop bugging you.

He'd been skipping Hard Deck nights and leaving the locker room after work without really talking to anyone. Nat knew why he was miserable, but even she seemed surprised it had gone on for this long.

A few days ago, she said, "You've never behaved like this over a woman before. This has all just been very surprising, and I don't know how to help you."

Bradley had shrugged and laughed sarcastically. "Well, I fell in love with her. First time for everything, right? I'll know better for next time."

And that was the truly fucked up part. He had fallen in love with you over the course of ten days. As he drove to work, he thought about your face and your voice. He knew exactly how many miles he put on his Bronco driving back and forth to see you at the games in Anaheim. He knew exactly how much money he spent on all the tickets. He knew how badly it hurt right now to be without you. And he knew he'd repeat everything all over again if he could see you for five minutes.

Just like every other day, he had to collect himself before he could head inside to the locker room. There was no getting his time with you back. There was no second chance. There was no communication. He needed to stop. He took off his aviators that you'd liked so much and set them in his cup holder. When he checked the time on his phone, he had a notification that a new article from you had been posted eight minutes ago. It was like this every day. He'd wait to see each morning if you'd written anything, and then after it was posted, he'd read it at least three times.

Your final World Series article was the worst one. It was released two days after you left. He must have read it a hundred times. He'd even take a screenshot of the short passage he was certain was about him.

This World Series was exciting and dynamic for so many reasons. We witnessed some of the best major league pitching in the last decade, and there were more stolen bases than the past three finals combined. Professionally, I may never witness anything like this again. And I can even tell you that on a personal level, I was profoundly changed for the better by everything I allowed myself to experience and enjoy between San Diego and Anaheim over the course of the series.

Bradley looked at his phone screen now. It had to stop. He desperately wanted to read your article on the Detroit Red Wings, but he needed to make this feeling stop. It was like he was constantly in pain every time he thought about you or even simply read your name on his phone. Your written words were never going to help him move on, so he needed to do something about it right now while he felt like he could.

He deleted the New York Times app. He thought about deleting your number as well, but he needed to save some of his strength to get through his workday. So he just tucked his phone in his pocket and climbed out of the Bronco.

---------------------------

When Bradley walked into the Hard Deck on Friday night after work, he felt defeated and exhausted. He managed to delete the app you wrote for, but he still couldn't bring himself to delete your phone number. Moving on was a necessity right now. He didn't even know why he bothered to come to the bar, but staying home and looking at baseball cards on his coffee table didn't seem to be helping him.

"You're here!" Nat called out as soon as he walked inside. The bar was decorated for Christmas. Was it that close to the holidays? He'd completely lost track of the weeks, but at the same time, he knew exactly how many days it had been since he'd seen you. His mind was too aware of that number, and it tacked a new one on each day.

"Hey," Bradley managed to grunt when his friend came over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. The Christmas tree and the strings of lights blurred, and he had to close his eyes. He was missing the feel of your arms around him and the way you smelled. None of this was Nat's fault or anyone's fault really. Bradley didn't even blame you. He couldn't. You and he were nothing.

"Let me get you a drink," Nat whispered, and she took him by the hand. He recognized the upbeat Christmas song, and he saw the guys waving from the pool table. But when he turned to face the bar, Shannon was right there with her usual smile and a pint glass in her hand. He didn't know why he wasn't expecting her. The last time he saw her was when he brought you here, and he'd give anything to go back to that night.

Bradley just shook his head. "Something stronger. Please." Shannon raised one eyebrow at him and set the pint glass down in favor of a whiskey tumbler and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. "Yeah."

"Haven't seen you around in a few weeks," she said, watching the amber liquid slosh neatly up the side of the glass as she poured. "Kinda missed you." She met his eyes as she pushed the glass across the bar. "You look so sad."

He held eye contact with her, trying his best to push the intrusive thoughts away. "Maybe I'll be around more now," he muttered, downing the whole drink in one go and setting the glass down again.

Shannon was familiar to him. Comfortable. He'd been messing around with women for damn near two decades without any deep feelings. You were really his first foray into something... more. But you were gone. You didn't want to talk to him. You weren't coming back.

She refilled his glass and said, "Take this one a little slower, Bradley." He nodded before downing it just like the first one, and she kind of smirked and shook her head. "You'll pay for this in the morning."

He laughed sardonically. "That's the idea." He left the empty glass on the bar with a little nod indicating that he would be back. He desperately needed to clear his head, but he'd been trying everything for weeks. Taking a walk outside, having a cold shower, going for a drive. Nothing fucking helped.

He needed to forget the feel of your body and the sound of your voice. So he drank an extravagant amount of Johnnie Walker on Nat's tab, and he started to feel looser. He laughed at her when she asked how many he had so far.

"Don't worry. I'll pay you back," he rasped with a smile that he knew could charm every woman except for his best friend.

She just rubbed her hand up and down his arm and said, "I hope you know what you're doing. Let me know when you want me to get you home."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, Nat. Just fine." He finished his tumbler and tried to remember if that was his fifth or his sixth, but it didn't matter. He was warm now, and his lips were a little numb. This was exactly what he needed tonight. After he shot a round of pool and lost, he flipped through the jukebox, but it was all bullshit Christmas music. He wasn't in the mood. He thought about playing the piano, but there was an empty stool at the bar now, so he headed in that direction.

"One more?" Bradley asked Shannon as he sat, and she reached out to touch his cheek.

"You sure you really need one?"

"Yep," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat as she swam out of focus for a split second. "Just one more. It'll make it easier."

She turned away from him to get one more clean glass. Then she filled it for him. "Thanks, Shannon," he muttered when she set it down in front of him. He was leaning on his propped up hand, and he knew she was kind of pretty. But he knew you were prettier and funnier and smarter.

"You can't have what you want," he mumbled to himself after Shannon walked away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and just looked at the screen. Delete it. He had to. He opened his contacts, and there you were right at the fucking top.

Ace

You'd always be at the top, wouldn't you?

Instead of deleting your number, he sent you a text before he could reconsider.

Ace, I fell in love with you.

Fuck. Fuck! You didn't want him. And there was no way to take that message back now. He closed his eyes and shook his head, because he couldn't tell if he was about to cry or laugh. He was fucking miserable. Truly, he'd never experienced this before, and it hurt like hell. His thumb hovered over your name once again, but he couldn't delete it. He drank the whiskey and tried again. But still nothing.

He watched Shannon move around behind the bar. She wasn't you. She wasn't what he wanted, but when she announced that it was last call, she made her way over to him.

"But no more for you," she teased, reaching to take his glass away. But he had her wrist in his hand before he registered what he was doing. She looked a little surprised. The tears were in his eyes again, but maybe it wasn't so obvious to her. He couldn't say the words. He needed her to be the one. When he licked his lips, she leaned a little closer. "I'm done in fifteen. Are you interested? Or are you too drunk?"

He took a deep breath as his eyes closed. He needed to try to move on. The pain needed to stop, or else he didn't know what he would do. Right now he was numb enough. It was now or never. "I'm interested."

Bradley was very aware of what he was doing, it just vaguely seemed like someone else was doing it. He gave his keys to Shannon once they were outside. "Remember where I live?" he asked, walking toward the Bronco.

"Of course I do," she whispered.

He found himself with his back against the passenger side door with Shannon's lips on his. It felt fine. Would probably feel better the more he got used to it again. He could do this. He kissed her back and told her to drive, because he knew he shouldn't.

She drove and parked and took him by the hand, leading him inside his house. As soon as he saw the baseball cards, he wanted to upend his coffee table. He wanted to do this and get it over with and go to sleep for a week. And if he didn't feel better after that, then he didn't know what he was going to do.

When Shannon tried to turn on his bedroom light, he took her hand in his and guided it away from the switch. "Too bright," he mumbled, and she started to get undressed. He stumbled across the hallway to the bathroom and closed the door. When he looked in the mirror, he'd never seen anything quite so pitiful. He splashed a little water on his face, but it just made his flushed cheeks stand out more. He dug around under the sink for some condoms he thought he still had. When his hand closed around the box, he sat back against the wall and cried.

He had no idea how long he was in the bathroom. He took his shirt off and used it to wipe his face. You didn't want him. He went back to his bedroom where Shannon was naked on his bed, her skin glowing in the light filtering in from the bathroom where he forgot to flip the switch off.

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. But she must have taken that as a sign that he was ready to go. He wasn't, but he told himself he was. She touched him, and he let her. She kissed him some more, and he let her do that, too. He reciprocated. He knew to do that much. But it didn't feel like anything. He fucked her, but it just wasn't right. And then he fell asleep with a throbbing head and an aching heart and the wrong woman next to him.

-----------------------

It had been years since Bradley had a hangover. When he opened his eyes, his left arm was hanging off of his bed, and his face was halfway smashed in his pillow. His mouth was completely dry, and he tried to press his lips together and swallow. He had no idea how he got home or what time it was.

"Oh, shit," he groaned. He texted you last night. When he was sitting at the bar. He was pretty sure he told you he fell in love with you. He knew you wouldn't write back. You must have blocked his number by now. He was probably texting nobody by this point, but it still hurt like hell that you didn't want him the way he wanted you.

Then he remembered what he did after he texted you, and the bile rose in his throat so quickly. Shannon was right there next to him when he turned his head. He let her sleep over. He never let her sleep over before this. She was in your spot. He needed her gone immediately.

"Hey," he grunted, his throat like sandpaper. "Shannon. You need to leave."

She rolled over and glared at him. "Still tired," she whispered, completely naked in his bed.

"Please," he begged. He was so fucking stupid, it was incredible. Now he was miserable and hungover and angry with himself. "I need you to."

She sighed and stretched, and Bradley made a beeline for the bathroom, stepping on a condom wrapper on the way. At least there was that. Then he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He sat back against the wall for a few minutes, afraid there might be more he had to throw up. He knew his head was throbbing due more to the fact that he regretted everything he did last night with Shannon than him drinking most of a bottle of whiskey.

There was tapping on the door. "If you want me to leave, I need to use the bathroom."

"Give me a minute," he groaned, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. When he brushed his teeth, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes once again. Was this ever going to stop? It had been more than a month.

Bradley rinsed his mouth and opened the door, barely looking at Shannon as she walked past him, still naked. He went back into his bedroom for a pair of clean underwear and some gym shorts and fought the urge to put all of his bedding in the washing machine. He couldn't even be in here right now, so he left for the kitchen. And he passed the fucking baseball cards again. He would have to throw them away or ask someone to come get them, because he needed them gone as much as he needed Shannon to leave.

As he turned on his coffee maker, he heard someone knocking on his front door. He already wanted this fucking day to end. He tried not to look at the baseball cards as he passed the table and wrenched his front door open, and then his jaw dropped in surprise.

"Bradley. Hi."

He braced his hand against the door frame as he looked at you standing there on his tiny porch. You were wearing his Padres jersey. He had to be hallucinating. This had to be a dream. You were here.

"Ace."

He watched your face light up at the nickname, and you laughed softly as you examined him like you'd been dying to see him. He gripped the doorframe a little harder as he reached his other hand out to cup your chin and feel your silky skin.

"Holy shit, Baby. What are you doing here?" His heart was pounding, but he felt somehow normal again. Just like he had five weeks ago before you left him in a state of panic.

"I came to see you." He stroked his thumb along your lip, but you didn't back away. In fact you took a tiny step closer as you added, "I have to be up in Anaheim tomorrow afternoon for some Ducks interviews, but I wanted to see you first. I thought we could talk."

Your eyes were open and earnest, and Bradley felt weak as he looked at his jersey on you. He let his hand drop away from your face, because he had no idea what to say to you right now. He had convinced himself he'd never see you again. "Did you get my texts? Or did you block my number?"

You pressed your lips together and then whispered, "I got your texts. And I've listened to your voicemail a lot. I've missed you." Bradley watched you smile tentatively and give him a little shrug.

"You missed me," he said in disbelief. "And you got my messages. And you missed me. And you're wearing my jersey."

You looked down at yourself and laughed. "I've been wearing pretty frequently, actually. Turns out I don't have a dress code at my new office, which ironically is in Houston now, but I hardly ever have to be there in person."

When you met his eyes again, he asked. "New office?" He was so confused as he reached out and stroked your cheek with his fingers again just to try to make sure you were still real.

"Yeah," you said softly, taking another step closer to him. "I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for a lot of things." You bit your lip before you said, "I left the New York Times. I just finished my last assignment for Greg yesterday. I'm working on a brand new piece now. I actually begged my new employer to let me come back to California for the Anaheim Ducks article even though it's a bit of a fluff piece, because it meant I could come here and tell you that I'm happier now."

"You are?" he asked, unsure what you meant by that. He was having a hard time listening to your voice and looking at your face at the same time, and he wondered how he'd managed ten days in your presence for the World Series. You were just so overwhelmingly perfect.

"Yes, Bradley. You made me think about my career, and I kind of took the time to change some of my priorities. Because if there's a man as incredible as you who is willing to take a chance on me, then I can take the same kind of chance on myself."

"Ace."

You smiled up at what he was sure was a look of longing on his face. "I'm working for Velocity Report now, and I'm going to have a lot more time off between assignments. Which is important, because you reminded me that I need to take breaks and eat and take care of myself. Even when you're not around."

"I loved doing that for you," he gasped, suddenly dying to kiss you.

"Yeah, well, you were really good at it," you said as your smile faded a little bit. "But that's why I'm here. To tell you all of this in person. You deserve to hear it in person instead of over the phone, especially since I never responded to you. I wanted to, but I just wasn't ready until now. And I don't know if you read what I said about you in my Detroit Red Wings article... but, I still miss you. And I love you."

His heart was pounding so hard, he thought he was going to pass out. "You love me?" he asked, absolutely needing you to say it again for him as your eyes drifted to where the box of baseball cards was still out on the coffee table.

Your smile grew as you reached out for his hand and tugged him closer like you were going to kiss him. "Yes, I do. I love-"

Bradley heard a noise behind him, and his heart sank as his eyes went wide. You were looking off to the side, and he heard Shannon's voice. "Oh, sorry." He turned to see her with a puzzled look on her face. He had completely forgotten she was even here. After a few minutes in your presence, you were the only thing that mattered.

"Oh my god," you gasped, wrenching yourself away from Bradley. "Oh, fuck." You looked at him with your hands on your forehead and tears in your eyes. "You know what? Forget I was even here. I'm sorry," you gasped, turning on your heel and walking full speed across his yard to the black car that was parked at his curb.

It took him a second, but then he was right behind you. "Ace! No, Baby, you don't understand." But it didn't look like you were listening as you dug the keys to your rental car out of your pocket. "Ace! Please!" He ran barefoot out onto the street to try to beat you to the car door, but you were too fast. When he reached for your hand and spun you around to face him, you had tears streaming down your cheeks.

He was frozen, clinging to your hand as you whispered, "She's the bartender. I should have never come here."

"No," he begged, stepping into your personal space, but you kept dodging him. "It's nothing. I want you here. I need you here."

But you pulled your hand free and reached for the door handle as you sobbed, and it broke Bradley's heart. "I need to go."

He was ready to drop to his knees. "She doesn't mean anything, Ace! Please! I missed you too, Baby! I've been miserable without you, okay? You have no idea."

You wouldn't even look at him now as you pushed him out of the way so you could climb in the car. He felt all of his dreams slipping through his fingers twice now as you slammed the door closed, started the engine and drove.

"Ace!" he shouted running alongside your door until you hit the accelerator and left him standing in the middle of his street without shoes on. "Ace. I love you," he whispered as you turned left at the end of his block, and then you were out of sight.

Bradley sank down until he was squatting with his face buried in his palms. "Fuck!" he screamed, the sound only slightly muffled as he jumped up to his feet and made his way back to his house where Shannon was standing on his porch. She looked disgusted as another car pulled up in front of his house.

"Why are we sleeping together if you're clearly in love with her?" she asked, barely looking at him as she headed toward her Uber. "You should go take care of that."

As Bradley watched her away, he tried to pinpoint exactly how he'd fucked all of this up. He wondered if there was any way to fix it. Once again, he couldn't breathe correctly as that crushing feeling returned to his lungs. This feeling has vanished for those few minutes he was with you again.

"Maybe you don't even deserve her," he told himself as he walked back inside alone, thinking about how for a minute there, you'd loved him back.

------------------------------

Oh, Bradley. Oh, you sweet thing. Should I add one more part? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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