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msmarvelwrites · 4 years ago

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For Old Times' Sake

Summary: “Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue,”

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Explicit sexual content, Vaginal penetration, fingering, Choking, Bucky with the filthy words, mutual pining.

Word Count: 2.8K

Authors Note: WOW! It has literally been a hot minute hasn't it? I cant say that I’m not a little excited about this 3rd lock-down in Ontario because it means I can actually find time to write. I’m sorry it’s been so long, babes. Anyways, enjoy! (I’m actually the worst and it’s been so long since I’ve done this!) The Biggest Thank You to @sweeterthanthis for literally cheering me on the entire time. This was such garbage before you came along 😂 I had so much fun with this one babe 💕 thank you for all you do ✨

The wind whipped against your face, bruising your skin with it’s callousness. Though the unwelcomed lash was nothing compared to what was to come. Or who, for that matter.

It had been longer than you cared to admit. The dodged calls hanging at the bottom of the icon on your phone serving as a cruel reminder of how cold you had been. Of course, it was never in your job description to take care of Bucky after Steve left— but there was an implication that made you run for the hills.

You couldn't do anything for him - give him anything. The last five years had consisted of running and trying to start over.

Besides, after the Accords, in the government's eyes you were just as fucked as Hydra. An ally turned fugitive the moment you’d chosen your side in that airport. You’d fight with yourself most nights that you decided with your head, but your first evening with a man who had bruised your lips with promises of what would come may have had more pull than anything else.

The same man that had called you every week for the past six months… The same man you had spent countless nights with, years of your life you would never be able to scrub away, no matter how hard you tried.

You had watched from afar as half of the world returned, their loved ones welcoming them home with teary eyes and broken hearts. You watched as he came home. His eyes, always scanning the crowds waiting for you. Waiting to see your face.

It made all of this so, so much worse. This was definitely not the homecoming you could have hoped for.

“We’re nearing the drop.” Your comm’s rang with a woman's voice who had helped smuggle you onto the craft. You weren’t exactly welcome in europe at the moment- or anywhere for that matter. The government did not take lightly to your’s and Sharon’s betrayal. You’d think that after everything the world had seen they would be a little more forgiving, but you couldn't exactly blame them for their trust issues either.

You could, however, blame yourself.

As soon as your feet hit the ground you were off. The distress call had come from Sam earlier that evening and now with the sun setting you could only hope you weren't too late. You tried to push the man who had haunted your thoughts for the past few years out of your head, desperate to focus on the task at hand.

Bullets exploded through the air, a warning as you were approaching the large shipping container unit. Your comms went static as they began to connect with Sam’s, his voice ringing through your ears as—

“Sam, a little help here!”

His voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I’m on my way - called in some back up.” Sam grunted as the sound of strangled yelps echoed around you.

“Back up? Who do we know that-” Bucky’s words were cut short as he let out a growl, the sound of his vibranium arm whirling in the background.

You rushed in without a second thought, the sound of his pain too raw as it ripped through your chest. Before you could assess the danger, you charged forward, hurling yourself at a large man pointing his gun right at-

With a loud thud, the man hit the ground. Your combat boot, heavy on his throat until he went still, and with it came silence. It was deafening despite the explosive gunfire around you.

“Y/n?”

Your name ripped through the air, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Back turned and body rigid, you were frozen in place. Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue, soft and get so personal. Like no one had spoken it before.

“Y/n, what are you-”

Sam's voice cut the newly cropped brunettes words off, “I got two coming in on your left, Buck. Oh- and welcome back, Y/L/N.”

You smiled sheepishly at Bucky, pulling your gun from its holster and flicking the safety off as you closed your distance with him. Despite the aggravation apparent on his face, a broken smile seemed to be pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Here we go again, huh?” You chimed, your eyes locking with his just as all hell broke loose.

The trip back to Sam and Bucky’s base was one filled with uncomfortable silence, and a tension that had your blood running cold.

Once the adrenaline of the fight had worn off and you were left face to face with Bucky Barnes, the guilt began to creep in.

“So…” Sam started from the backseat of the beat-up truck, the suddenness of his words startling both you and Bucky for a moment. “Long time no see.”

The scoff that left Bucky’s lips wasn't as subtle as you imagined he meant it to be. You tried not to let it bother you; in fact, you had prepared for this. How he might react when you finally returned home. What you weren't prepared for, however, was how indescribably gutted you would feel to watch him - eyes trained to the road ahead - as he gritted his teeth at your proximity.

To say that yours and Bucky’s relationship before the snap was easy would be incredibly delusional. It was messy and at it’s best dysfunctional. But for whatever reason, the two of you looked beyond that. He saw through you like no one ever had and before you knew it, the two of you were glued at the hip. It didn't make sense, but no questions were ever asked.

You just fit.

And of course there was the sex. Good god, you could feel your thighs clenching at the thought.

The way’s Bucky knew how to take you apart, with an accuracy that only he had. How he had your toes curling and body vibrating from the flick of his tongue. How he would have you screaming the most filthy things for him, all while begging to never ever—

“Y/n?”

Sam’s voice was like an ice bath. Your name yanking you back into the present and the question at hand. What was the question again? You couldn't think straight. Not when Bucky was staring at you the way he was, one brow cocked and that same familiar smirk plastered on his lips. If you didn't know any better, you’d think he could read your thoughts.

“Sorry- I… I was…” You couldn't seem to bring yourself back to this realm, too lost in the Super Soldier’s stormy eyes to remember what exactly you were trying to say.

“He asked you where you’ve been, Y/n.” Bucky spoke your name like it was a curse, laced with razor sharp ache and pain. His eyes told a different story though. The way he looked at you; the same way he always did.

With a warmth that only he had for you. It made you shiver.

“Running, mostly.” You started, your body physically breaking your gaze with Bucky. It was too much, watching him glare down at you. And maybe you deserved it.

“And you never thought to, I don't know, call me?” Bucky’s words were spiteful, oozing with a disdain that was beginning to wear down your patience.

“It wasn't like that, Buck-”

“You can’t call me that anymore.” He snapped, his eyes trained on the road. Your gaze snapped to him, brow arched as you all but scoffed at him.

“Oh, I can't?” You chuckled, but the sound came out flat. He had every right to ask you where you've been. Hell, get angry if he wanted. But the way his words seeped with disgust made your blood boil.

“Okay, okay guys. Let’s all take a breath and just—”

“Shut up, Sam.” You both snarled, causing Sam to roll his eyes as Bucky pulled into a long winding driveway with a small log cabin sat at the end of it. You reached for your seatbelt until your door swung open.

“You two figure your shit out. Whatever this is,” Sam motioned to the space between you two, “ isn’t leaving this car. I’ll be inside. Feel free to come in when y'all have killed and made up, okay?” With that, Sam slammed the door leaving Bucky and you alone in your static tension.

Bucky worried on his lip, his eyes trained to his lap. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words seemed caught in your throat.

“You didn't even call…”

It was so quiet, you almost didn't hear it. But you did…

Voice small and so filled with ache; it kicked you in the stomach, the guilt washing away any anger you had felt.

“Bucky… I- I couldn't.” You forced out, tentative as you met his gaze, stomach dropping as your eyes locked with his.

“I thought I lost you. I thought - I mean, fuck - you were all I cared about.” He sighed, clearing his throat as if it would help ease his discomfort. “I looked for you, ya know?” He chuckled, but there was no warmth behind it. Just a brokenness that made you squirm.

“It’s not your fault—”

“Oh, I know it’s not.” Bucky quipped, his eyes flicking away from yours and turning back to face the cabin. “It was your own selfish decision.”

You scoffed, head snapping back to meet his glare. “Selfish? Bucky, I had no other choice. Not everyone can be pardoned for their crimes. It’s not like I had Steve Rogers advocating for my freedom!”

Bucky only rolled his eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, you swore he might rip it clean off the car. “Don’t bring him into this. You don't think that I would have done everything to get to you? To clear your name?”

You laughed bitterly, blinking away the tears that welled at the corners of your eyes.

“You gotta at least give me more credit than that, Doll.” The pet name rolled off this tongue easily, washing over you, and making you freeze.

“Please don’t call me that…” You faltered, wiping away a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

It seemed the tension dissipated in that moment, silence heavy between you both as Bucky reached out, his flesh fingers finding a tear and brushing it away. You tried to speak, but with everything that had been said, and all that would never be, you decided words just weren’t enough.

You didn't have time to object before his lips were on yours, your body moving at its own accord as he pulled you onto his lap, your thighs either side of him as his tongue swept across your bottom lip. You tried to moan, but his mouth swallowed the sound. He rendered you breathless, his taste intoxicating as you melted into his embrace, grinding into him and shivering when a familiar growl slipped from his lips; vibrating against your mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you.” You moaned out, clutching his jacket as you licked down his neck. His skin was burning against your lips, the rumble of his breath heavy against your ear as he let out a dark chuckle, urging you on.

“Well, if you had just called me—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you reached for the recliner, snapping it forward as you toppled forwards onto Bucky’s chest. His words fell back into his throat, hands automatically finding your hips to steady you while you fumbled with his belt.

“Doll—” He tried to start, but you swallowed the name with your kiss, heated and rooted in a desperate need to feel him again. You ached for him in a way you’d never felt before.

Maybe what you had was unfixable. Maybe it was beyond repair, but with the way he was kissing you and hiking down your pants, it didn't matter. You were drunk on him, and by the way he bucked his hips, so was he.

You shivered as his vibranium fingers looped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down over your legs as you both awkwardly tried to move in the cramped seat. You wanted to laugh, but as his cold thumb swiped through your slick folds, all you could do was whine.

“So wet for me…” He hummed, teeth sinking into your throat as he pulled a whimper from your lips.

You cursed, hands propping you up on either side of him as he dipped his index finger into you, the intrusion enough to have your back arching into him, desperate for more.

But Bucky was a tease. And even now, after all of this time, it was the very thing that had your buckling above him. Pleading and begging for more.

“Look at you.” He started, his eyes dark as he pushed deeper inside, his finger curing into you as you gasped.

“P-please, Buck.” You begged, grinding down onto his hand. To your dismay he only chuckled, watching intently as you came undone around him.

“I told you,” He started, lifting you off of him and tossing you against the backseats, “Don’t call me that.”

You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat as he awkwardly crawled towards you. But the look in his eyes had your stomach twisting into something that emulated fear. It was guttural as he pressed into you, the outline of his cock digging into your drenched folds.

You bit back a moan, eyes rolling back in your head as his cold fingers brushed against your core, pulling himself free from his boxers.

“Do you still love me like you did?” He spoke, and though the words were soft and filled with promises you had broken before, there was a darkness in his voice.

“I never stopped.” You admitted. And it was true. But that didn't seem to be the answer he was looking for as he licked his bottom lip, eyes trained on your throat.

“I’m afraid isn’t gonna’ feel much like love, doll.” He breathed out, lining himself up with your entrance. Before you could speak, he thrusted into you, knocking the air out of your chest as he bent you uncomfortably in half. You could only scream as he caged you in, forcing you down against the seats as he fucked into you.

It’s not like you forgot how Bucky filled you, but his size was something you would never be able by to fully adjust to. Especially not now, when he was holding you steady, his hips snapping against you giving you no time to ease into the assault. And by the looks of the lopsided smirk plastered on his swollen lips, he knew exactly how shredded you felt.

“Fuck, you take me so good, sweetheart.” The pet name doing nothing to quell the ache he sent ripping through your body as he sank deeper into you. You could only cry out, head smashing into the door as he kept up his brutal pace.

“B-Bucky, please.” You weren't exactly sure what you were asking for, but at this rate you wouldn't last long, the familiar coil building in your abdomen as he nudged up against your cervix.

“Slow down, baby.” You choked on a sob, eyes glassy as his vibranium fingers coiled around you thoat, pining you to the seats.

“Did you miss this part, doll?” He whispered against your ear, a shiver ripping through your body and igniting a flame you had so desperately craved since the moment he vanished from your world. “Miss the way I ruin you, Hm? I can feel you, coming undone. You’re so close, aren’t you?” he teased, pressing his fingers deeper into your throat until you were coughing around the pressure.

“All I need to do is-” His flesh thumb ran circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back into your skull as you croaked out his name, begging him to ease up. “There it is.” He chuckled, quickening his pace until you were a shivering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, I-”

“I’m going to ruin this cunt, sweetheart. Stay still, and let go for me” His voice was like gravel, only letting you breathe once you nodded your head in complicity, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as the orgasm wrapped itself around your core.

“Fuck.” You managed to scream, your head lulling back as a title-wave of ecstasy crashed over you, pulling you under.

“That’s my girl.” His words tipped you over the edge, his name on your lips like a prayer as you quivered, your body violently shaking. “God you're so tight when you- Shit!”

With a few sloppy thrusts, Bucky came undone. His hot spend coating your pulsing walls as he gasped. Your bodies a tangled mess as he puffed out a breath against your neck.

You both just stayed frozen, too afraid that the moment you pulled away, reality would sink in. And the truth was, you weren't exactly sure what that meant.

Bucky slowly eased himself out of you, gasping a little as you spilled out onto, what you only hoped, would be easy to clean seats.

“Doll, that was-”

“Hey,” Sam knocked hard against the now foggy glass, “You two hungry, or what?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #tfatws

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

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Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

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prettytoxicrevolver · 4 years ago

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Explanation | Jimmy Donaldson

Requested? yes! I hope you enjoy it @banana-tree-freddiemercury and @classyunknownlover

Warnings? None?

Summary: After some wise words from Chandler and a lot of driving and thinking, you decide to give Jimmy an explanation.

Word Count: 1,007

Part one is here

You pull away, Chandler reaching up to push away your tears with his thumb and you offer a sad smile to the brunette. You hated always going to him like this, especially when you were crying over his best friend. It felt selfish and unimportant.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, lifting a hand to wipe away the remaining tears.

“Darlin, have you ever asked Jimmy what happened that day?” he asks carefully and you look up at Chandler with a confused look.

He leads you inside his house, the two of you taking seats in the living room next to each other. You look over at Chandler as he tries to form the words for what he wants to say to you.

“Did you ever talk to Jimmy about what happened?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Baby, me and you are best friends. And Jimmy was always fine with it. Why didn’t you offer Jimmy the same thing? Or at least an explanation?”

You were pretty certain Chandler had held this back ever since your breakup with his best friend. It was a good question, after that day you saw him with that girl you just ended it and never really got an explanation. You knew deep down it was selfish and you were going for self-preservation but you couldn’t help it. You were scared.

“I was scared Chan,” you admit. “He’s practically perfect and I’m me.”

“Darlin, he loves you. Tell him everything and I promise you’ll feel a lot better.”

You lift your head and look over at the older boy, knowing he’s right and wishing you had heard this earlier. He knew Jimmy as well, maybe even better than you did and to know he had held this in the entire time made you feel even more selfish. You had been crying about his best friend when your best friend could have told you to stop being so dumb.

“When did you get so wise?” you ask and the two of you giggle lightly.

You leave Chandler’s house, deciding to drive around for a while. You try to distract yourself from the thoughts and memories flooded with Jimmy but to no avail, he was all you could think of. You decided to give yourself a few days to think through, not wanting to make an idiot of yourself if you did talk to Jimmy.

Over the next few days, you ended up driving a ton. Partially because you wanted the practice and partially because it helped you think. Driving had become such second nature to you so quickly it was easy to get lost in your town, listening to quiet music and thinking and re-thinking the situation with Jimmy over and over.

Chandler was right; you never gave Jimmy a chance to explain himself. He could have been filming a video, the girl could have been a close friend, you could have honestly thought of a million excuses Jimmy could have given you and you would have taken any of them. But it all boiled down to the fact that you were scared, and subconsciously you thought this was your way out.

But Jimmy was still your best friend, your first love, and he deserved better than this. You wanted to apologize at the very least, even if it couldn’t save your relationship you wanted him to know you reacted too quickly out of fear and hear him out.

As you continue to drive and think, you don’t even realize you’re headed towards Jimmy’s house until the street names start to look familiar. Your nerves grow as you make your way to his house, knowing there was no turning back now. You had to do this for him and for you or else you would never do it.

You pull up in his driveway and shut off your car. You stare up at the familiar house, a million memories flooding straight through you. Your anxiety spikes but you will yourself out of the car regardless. You make your way up the steps before knocking quietly on the door and waiting.

When Jimmy steps out, your heart sits on top of your sleeve, clear as day. It beats uncontrollably, yearning for your best friend but cowers at the idea of getting stomped on.

“(y/n)?” Jimmy asks as if he can’t believe you're here.

“I just wanted to apologize,” you start and you know the minute you start talking you’ll spill everything to him like you always have. He had always had that effect on you and the minute his blue eyes gaze over yours the same thing takes place.

“I should have asked you who that girl was. I should have stopped and listened and trusted you. I was terrified that one day you’d leave and break my heart and I guess I did it for you without any context and neither one of us deserved that but you deserved an apology from someone who fucked up prematurely and-“

“(y/n)?” Jimmy asks again, stopping you midway through your rant apology.

“Yeah?”

“You drove here?” he asks, his eyes drifting over to the unfamiliar vehicle behind you.

“Uh yeah, I got my license recently.”

“You drove all the way here to tell me this?” he continues and now you’re the one confused.

“Of course. You deserve an explanation as to why I ended things so quick,” you explain.

Jimmy drops his head, and from what you can tell a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. He shakes his head, before pulling you in by your waist taking you by surprise.

“You’re dumb you know that?”

Before you can respond, Jimmy dips his head down, pressing his lips against yours. The wind is knocked out of you, your heart soaring instead of falling this time. You pull away only when you’re both out of breath and Jimmy rests his forehead on yours.

“I’ll always love you, you know that right?” he asks.

“Always,” you repeat.

“Wanna go for a drive and talk?”

#mr beast imagine #jimmy donaldson imagine #mr beast x reader #jimmy donaldson x reader #x reader #imagine #bravebesson

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t0shii · 4 years ago

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hq boys when you're feeling anxious or stressed

suna rintaro, hinata shoyo, oikawa toru x gn!r

!warnings! mentions of anxiety, reader comparing themselves to others, mentions of food & hunger, driving. this is like all fluff no angst rlly tbh.

SUNA RINTARO.

he could tell something was up but conviced himself he shouldnt pry as he had already asked you twice if you were feeling alright, to which you reasurred him with a "yep" both times, it was suspicious but he thought maybe you just wanted to be left alone. meanwhile you weren't sure why you lied him, you obviously were not doing okay at the moment. currently he was driving you home and your anxiety was going absolutely crazy from the amount of school work that was piling up on you, it's unfair you thought to yourself, looking out the window. not only were you stressed from work but trying to keep up with your friend was hard, to say the least. they were phenomenal students, straight As in their transcript and though your grades were just fine, you couldn't help but feel inferior and insecure. it's unfair how effortlessly smart they are and how i'll never be able to catch up.... oh boy if your thoughts weren't running wild before they definitely were now, you hadn't even realized your boyfriend pulling into your driveway until he slightly tapped your shoulder. "are you sure you're alright? i don't wanna pressure you ofcourse but, you know you can tell me anything right?" ... and there were the water works! the little string holding you together had snapped just like that. you sat there in the passengers seat sobbing into your hands and suna rintaro hadn't a clue what to do in the moment.

"give me just a sec" you heard him mumble but not before he gave you a kiss as light as a feather on the top of your head. somehow you didn't notice him exit the car and rush to your side until he opened your door and hugged you so tight you honestly couldn't breathe. after a few seconds your boyfriend let go of the embrace which, to his dismay, only made you cry even harder. now, he knew he was known for being quite... stoic but he was definitely panicking on the inside and it was really difficult to remain calm on the outside. your boyfriend carefully reached over you to unbuckle the seatbelt that you had yet to unclasp. "lets go inside baby." his voice was so gentle it would've taken you by surprise had you not still been crying. you nodded in response and he helped you carefully out of the car, holding your hand all the way to the door, "d'ya have your key?" you nodded trying your best to unlock the door, after a few struggled and shakey attempts you finally had your door unlocked but not without rins help because he couldn't bare to watch you struggle any longer.

stepping inside rin helped you take your shoes off, removing his own after, "bedroom?" having calmed down a little you whispered "yes," with a small nod. he nodded with you in response and took you to your bedroom. after helping you change into comfy clothes he helped you into bed, crawling in right behind you. your back was snug against his chest and he held you super tightly, it was silent for a few minutes until finally he spoke up, "please tell me how i can help" you could feel your lip quiver. "well... you don't have to say anything right now, you know i can wait. i'll even leave if you want, i just wanted you to know that you can tell me whenever you're ready and that i'll listen." neither of you were sure when you'd be ready to admit what had gotten you so upset but you felt comfortable knowing suna rintaro would be there whenever you were ready, whether it be minutes from now or even months.

HINATA SHOYO.

your silence on the walk home was starting to concern him.. maybe im just talking too much... he thought, "hey... im sorry if im talking your ear off.. how was your day angel?" to say he was disappointed with your response would be an understatement. not thar you HAD to talk but usually you were talkative with him and the worry in his tummy was only growing more. a simple, "oh.. my day was alright sho," simply woundn't cut it! "hey, are you feeling okay?" it was silent for a few seconds before you answered a mumbled "i think so, are you feeling alright, sho?" he simply nodded with a "mhm" and you told him to continue on with his story from earlier.

he complied but only to fill the silence. hinata decided to trust you when you said you were okay because you know your own feelings and he knows for a fact he's made it clear before that you could and should let him know if something was bothering you. though you enjoyed listening to hinata's stories you only found yourself getting lost in your own mind whilst he rambled on.you could tell he was suspicious of your behavior but was grateful he had left his curiosity behind because you were sure you would snap if he had asked you if you were okay again, you really didn't want to cry in front of him. truth is, your thoughts were running wild, stressing over the smallest things; assignments due at the end of the week, what you were gonna get your boyfriend for your anniversary, how you were gonna make time for your friends surprise birthday party and helping sho with his studied all the while trying to take care of your own self and keep your own grades afloat. "y/n..? we're at your house.. are you sure your alright? you look a little pale, are you ill?" crap! how had you not noticed you were approaching your own driveway you wanted to slap yourself for being so clueless. you couldn't help but feel horrible for not listening to your boyfriends story also.

"yes sho i'm fine really, i just didn't have time to eat lunch today but i have food inside so don't worry m'may?" he looked at you suspiciously and you knew he was onto you, "y'know y/n, i'm not gonna force you to tell me what's going on but just know i'll always be here for you, okay?" he gave you a small smile before engulfing you into a tight hug, it honestly melted your heart. surprisingly, you didn't start crying on the spot. "y'know, i wanted to trust you when you said you were okay but now i'm not so sure if you were telling the truth," he mumbled into your shoulder. you sighed, giving up the facade. "sho.... i just don't know what to do honestly, i have alot on my plate right now and i'm really stressed with all the responsibilities ive piled onto myself," you admitted. he nodded lifting his head from your shoulder, giving you the brightest smile, "well, i can always help out! i might not be the mooost helpful person ever but i'll try my best, and if anything i'm good moral support!" you giggled at that but suddenly you felt your lip quiver from the sudden guilt you feeling, "i'm sorry for lying to you sho-", "hey! its alright! you dont need to apologize. especially dont need you crying on me now!" he smiled cupping your face in his hands, wiping away a few stray tears of whom managed to escape.

OIKAWA TORU.

you smile back at him and thought of how silly it was that you tried keeping your feelings a secret from your boyfriend of two years, hinata shoyo, feeling glad that you confided in him. he knew you were upset as soon as he saw you that very morning, he could read you like and open book and you knew that fact very well. still though, you tried your best to hide yourself from him, though it was hard considering you sitting right next to him in the passenger seat of his car. finally after a whole day of being worried sick, he was tired of leaving things left unsaid "babyyyy," he sang for you from the kitchen, "please come here a sec!" he yelled for you louder. soon you came trudging down the hallway, blanket wrapped around your body, he couldn't help but smile at how adorable his s/o looked.

"c'mere quickly," he said will a grin, opening his arms for a hug, which you gladly accept, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly. "now, i know you know that i know that you're not feeling well, so please tell me what's got my angel so upset?" he said softly rubbing his hand lightly over your back, his voice a little muffled from his cheek being squished against the top of your head. you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding, "'m sorry tooru, i don't know what's wrong with me today.... just not feeling well." you felt him nod against your head in response, "well good thing your amazing boyfriend is here to make you feel all better huh?" you let a out small giggle at that. "you know you can tell me when you're feeling down right? you shouldn't keep things bottled up inside", "i know tooru... im sorry, i just dont really know wbat i'm feeling so down about though," you admitted shyly. "hey that's okay! there absolutely no need to apologize for that, here, look at me, angel," he tilts your face so you're looking up at him, his big soft hands holding your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks lightly, "i'm here whenever you figure it out, hell, even if you dont figure it out or there just isn't any reason at all. you know i'm always, always, always here. i promise you that, m'kay?" he finishes his little speech with a smile, smothering your face in kisses. you could only feel relieved, thankful and loved. because you knew that you would always have your soulmate, oikawa toru by your side.

( a/n ; ahh so im sorry if this has any spelling or grammatical errors it's sort of late as i'm writing this! and im too lazy to proof read.... also it might just all be word vomit and if it is im so sorry 😩 ++ i'm positive ive kept the reader gn throughout the whole thing but if there are slip-ups i promise i'll do better next time! i rlly wanted to write some hq boys when ur feeling anxious and beyond stressed because i have been MEGA struggling with my own anxiety lately, especially bc of school so i just needed to let my feelings go! anywhooo i hope everyone who reads this has an amazing day or night! ) p.s. im new to writing so be nice 2 me or whatever 😩🙄😌👍🏻

#oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa toru #oikawa headcanons #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna x y/n #suna rintaro headcanons #hinata shoyo #suna rintaro #hinata x reader #hinata x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #rintaro x reader #shoyo x reader #toru x reader #sunni's works 📓

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dudeandduchess · 4 years ago

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Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 4]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Note: Since it’s my birthday today, here’s a little something for y’all. Yaaaay! I was supposed to do a double update, but I got busy. But I hope y’all like like as much as I loved writing it. Can anyone guess where Kyō and (Y/n) are going though???

Warnings: Mild Smut, Teasing, Making Out, Dysfunctional Family Relationships

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

***

Breakfast was a silent affair in the (L/n) household; as usual. Even more so when it was just (Y/n) and her mother— Akari— sitting stiffly at the dining table and picking at their meals.

(Y/n)’s back was ramrod straight, even if she was feeling all of the tension pooling at the base of her spine. She knew that she had to keep her posture as impeccable as ever, ‘as is fit for a Prime Minister’s daughter’; like her mother always said.

She couldn’t even take a bite of her food, in her apprehension of earning her mother’s attention. So, she pushed it around her plate at best.

However, her efforts were still all for naught, since Akari spoke up. “What are the things on your agenda today?”

And from the corner of (Y/n)’s eye, she saw Rin straighten up— ready to prattle off the same list that she’d gone through earlier— when she answered for the woman. “I have charity events all day. Why?”

“Just asking, since you have to maximize your appearances for the family while you can.” Akari finished her sentence with a quick look up at her daughter, before turning back to her food and taking another bite of her salmon.

Another reason why (Y/n) couldn’t eat her food: she was sick of having the same thing whenever she ate with her mother. Poached salmon with a poached egg right on top, green beans amandine on the side, with a spot of jasmine tea to wash it all down.

For the past fifteen years that she and her family had been in residence at the Prime Minister’s mansion, her mother had always picked out everything for her whenever she could— from the way that she used to dress, down to the things that she ate. And whenever she tried to protest, she was always branded as too ‘rebellious’ and ‘ungrateful’; so she’d learned to just stay quiet— if only to avoid conflict.

It was a godsend that her father had finally let her move out when she started university; on the condition that she would always spend her breaks with the family.

“Yes, okaa-sama,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath, not in the mood to even talk to her mother. She just wanted breakfast to be done with already, so she could get as far away from the house as possible.

Fortunately, her mother’s secretary announced that she was already running behind for a meeting— so without even a single glance at her, Akari walked right out of the dining room; causing (Y/n) to finally let go of the breath that she’d been holding since she had sat down at the table.

“Do you have some candy, Rin?” The young woman asked softly, wanting to wash out the taste of the jasmine tea that she’d taken a sip of earlier. And when the other woman handed her a piece of cherry-flavored candy, she wasted no time in popping it into her mouth. “Thank you. So, what’s the first thing on my agenda again?”

However, for the second time that day, Rin was cut off before she could even answer; that time, with a loud series of honks from the outside.

“(Y/n)-sama,” One of the housekeepers hastened into the room; a little flushed and breathless from having exerted that much energy, before continuing, “You have a guest.”

“Who?”

“Your fiancé, ma’am.”

She couldn’t help but close her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose, because that was just what she needed after dealing with her mother: another difficult person to handle.

Still, she found herself feeling a little better— and a little flushed from remembering what he had done to her just the day before— since he was a good distraction. Not to mention, total eye candy. And with a little sigh, she began her walk to the front door.

When she got there though, it was to see Kyōjurō pinching one of the fresh calla lilies between his fingers; only to jump when he heard her words clear as day.

“Those are real.”

The blond grinned at that— bypassing the center table that had the vase of flowers that he’d been admiring— as he closed the distance between him and (Y/n); boldly wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. “Really? Not as real as this kiss, though.”

With those words hanging in the air, Kyōjurō then leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss; smiling into it when he felt her respond for a brief second, before pulling back a little. He wasn’t having that, however, so he chased after her lips while his free hand cupped the back of her head.

He could hear a few housekeepers gasping in surprise a few ways away, but he couldn’t care less about any of them. Not when he could taste the candy that (Y/n) had in her mouth. So, even more boldly than before, he snaked his tongue between her lips, and slowly coaxed the piece of candy right into his own mouth.

A little breathless from his antics, he finally broke away from (Y/n)— but not before pressing one last gentle kiss against her lips. “Didn’t know that you liked cherry, baby.”

“Shut up,” The young woman whispered, chest heaving and cheeks aflame with a blush. But she made no move to push herself away from Kyōjurō; not because she wanted to stay there forever, but to save face— since she could feel the beginnings of an erection pressed up against her. “What are you doing here?”

“You tell me to shut up, and then you ask me a question. You’re so confusing, sweetheart,” Kyōjurō teased, but still supplied her with a decent answer. “I’m here to take you out for breakfast.”

“I already had breakfast.”

“Then a second breakfast.”

“I have a charity even to go to later,” (Y/n) protested.

But Kyōjurō wasn’t having any of it. “I’ll take you after breakfast. So go and get everything you need, baby.”

***

“Wait, wait!” (Y/n) almost screeched, as she sat down on the buttery leather seat of Kyōjurō’s flashy, red Audi R8. “What about security? I was supposed to have-”

Before she could say anything more, the blond leaned down and pressed his lips against hers— effectively shutting her up— before jerking a thumb at the car behind his own. “You think I would bring you anywhere without thinking of your safety? Over there are two of my most trusted men: Shinazugawa and Tomioka. They don’t necessarily get along, but they get things done…”

And to add to that, Kyōjurō continued, “Besides, you have me to protect you, baby.”

With that, he stole another kiss from (Y/n), before grinning down at her and getting her settled in her seat. He didn’t know why, but taking care of her like that sent his heart fluttering wildly in his chest; maybe it was the novelty of actually doing it for a woman, or maybe it was all because it was her, and the fact that they were going to get married, but he loved every minute of it.

It wasn’t even that he wasn’t a gentleman to his past lovers— he was— but he didn’t really care for them at all. They were good for one thing, and he only kept them around for that, since he was busy with running his family’s business.

But with (Y/n)… he couldn’t even explain it. She was special.

Trying to suppress a smile, he walked around the car to get to his side, before buckling himself in and turning the engine on. However, when the radio turned on, it was still connected to Kyōjurō’s phone— and it had (Y/n) wide-eyed for a second, before she burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I wouldn’t have thought that you were the type to listen to Arashi,” The young woman teased, her giggles getting even louder when Kyōjurō decided to be silly and dance and sing along to the chorus of ‘Turning Up’.

When (Y/n)’s giggles calmed down into a smile, however, the thought that maybe— just maybe— spending time with him wasn’t that bad crossed her mind; and it had her silently agreeing. Especially when she looked back up at Kyōjurō and saw him grinning as he pulled out of the driveway.

When he wasn’t being a teasing horndog, he was okay; at least to (Y/n).

“What time do you need to be at your charity event?” The question had her jumping in surprise, but she quickly composed herself and rifled through all of the mental notes that she had made before leaving the house.

“Ten. And then I have another one at three.”

“Do you like doing these things?” It was such an offhanded question, not meant to be prying at all, but (Y/n) felt it hit much closer to home than her fiancé had intended. Still, she wasn’t mad at him for it; in fact, she felt… relieved, and happy.

Because, for the first time ever, someone had finally asked her what she thought. It was something small and insignificant, but to her that meant a lot— and it had her warming up to him just a little bit more.

“Well… to be honest, no. I don’t like it.”

Kyōjurō was just about to ask why she still did it if she didn’t like it, but the brief glance he cast at her— making him catch a glimpse of the melancholy look in her eyes— had him speaking before thinking. “Fuck those charities. Let’s just go out on a date today.”

“My mother would have my head!” (Y/n) exclaimed with a shake of her head, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through her at the possibility of rebelling; but still trying to stay rational and do what had been asked of her.

However, the blond already beat her to the punch, since he had pressed one of the numbers on the screen— making the car extremely silent, save for the revving of the engine, and the steady ringing of the line.

When someone on the other end picked up though, Kyōjurō didn’t even waste time on pleasantries. “Can you call my mother-in-law’s secretary and tell her that I’m taking (Y/n) out on a date? For the whole day.”

And with that, he dropped the call, letting the car be filled by the song that had been playing before; acting as if he hadn’t just sealed his fate by making his future in-law severely dislike him.

“She’s going to hate you.”

“Too bad, I’m still taking you out on that date.” And, as if to prove his point, he pulled the turn signal before making an illegal u-turn. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any other cars on the road.

(Y/n), completely shocked, screeched, “That was illegal!”

“Baby, you’re marrying me; you’ll be finding out all the illegal things I do for a living very soon."

#rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojurou rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #kyoujurou x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #kyojurou x reader #rengoku kyojurou #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #jen writes

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lick-me-lennon22 · 3 years ago

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George caring for a sick Dhani 💜

(thank you to @pmak2002 for this request!! it was supposed to be just a blurb but I did a little research beforehand and it ended up pretty much becoming a whole fic 😅 oops... either way, I hope you enjoy this one! 💕)

When Dhani wakes up for school on Monday morning, he immediately knows something his wrong. His throat is sore, his nose is runny, and his muscles ache like nothing he's felt before. He painstakingly drags himself out of bed, clutching the sheet around him, and heads straight to his parents' bedroom where he finds his mum Olivia still in bed. Dhani notices that the bathroom door is cracked open and cautiously steps inside to find his father, George, brushing his teeth. "Dad..?" he says quietly, voice hoarse. George startles, turning around to see Dhani in his unfortunate state and spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash it down the drain before turning the tap off. "What is it, my boy? You sound bloody awful..," he gently presses the back of his hand to Dhani's forehead to assess his temperature. "You seem to be running quite the fever, son- let's get you to the doctor, all right? Just let me finish up in here and I'll be right out to take ye" George says. Dhani nods weakly, coughing into his elbow, and shuffles out of the room. George jumps into action- he swishes and spits some mouthwash, changes out of his sleepwear into a button-up and jeans, and sprints to the car, his son following close behind him and hopping into the passenger's seat.

"This is ridiculous.." George mutters under his breath as he walks his son out of the clinic and gets into the driver's seat of his car. They had been able to see the doctor almost instantly upon arriving; he had taken some swabs, run a few tests, and determined that Dhani had contracted the flu: "He probably picked it up from school," the doc had said. When George had requested a prescription of some kind to alleviate his son's symptoms, the doctor simply shook his head: "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for him. The flu's been going around at many schools, I've seen a lot of children this past week with the same complaints. As it stands, all I can tell you is to give him some over-the-counter medicine, bring him some saltwater to gargle for that sore throat, and be sure he gets plenty of fluids and bedrest." George tried to argue, stating that there must be something he can do to cure Dhani of his illness sooner- but as the doc's hands were tied and George didn't want to subject his son to more stress, he took Dhani by the hand and led him out of the office, through the lobby, and back to the car. "Alright, my boy," George sighs- "seeing that the doctor was no help whatsoever, we're headed straight to the drugstore for anything that'll help you feel better. Sound good?"

"Yeah Dad, sounds good" Dhani croaks out and smiles weakly, glad just to spend some time with his father. Being a famous musician and all, George isnt able to spend as much time with his son as he'd like to, a lot of it consumed by work and media-related endeavors. Dhani admired his Dad more than anyone else in his life and though they rarely got the chance to hang out nowadays, they were practically best friends and had formed a close bond throughout his childhood. George was always a fun parent, bringing his son along to festivals and such ("Don't tell yer mum," he'd say with a grin), and sticking up for Dhani to authority figures and even other kids at his school- he was fiercely protective of his boy. However, he was also a gentle parent who allowed Dhani the chance to explore and express himself, and had fostered a mutual respect between the two of them since his son was but a toddler.

"I'm pulling you from school for the whole week" "But what if I'm- *cough*- all better before then?" "Just in case, Dhani- it's not like you really need them and their indoctrination, anyway.." George grumbles, never having been a fan of traditional schools or their teachings. Dhani however has always cared about his grades and paid close attention to the lessons he's been taught, in spite of what his father thinks. "...Okay, Dad" he says meekly, wanting to protest but unwilling to sacrifice more quality time with his famous father. George pulls into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore and marches in, intent on gathering all the supplies his sick boy could need: tissues, lozenges, cough syrup, pain medication, ice packs, and even more tissues- 'just in case.' He makes his way to the checkout, queuing up, paying for the items and hauling his bags back to the car. He drives Dhani home as quickly as possible, carrying him to bed and tucking him in before calling and cancelling any studio time, interviews, or collaborations he'd previously planned. There's only one committment he can't cancel- dinner with Paul tonight for the first time in ages. George sets his son up with all of the remedies he'd bought and tells his wife Olivia everything about the situation, including the "unhelpful and useless" doctor they had gone to see. She of course agrees to care for Dhani, sending her husband on his way to dinner with one of his long-time best friends.

The following day George rises just before noon, having stayed up late to pal around with Macca. He runs the few errands on his agenda, including grabbing his family some lunch, and pulls into his driveway back home where he spots the vehicle of none other than Richard Starkey parked outside. He makes his way to his son's room to discover that Uncle Ringo had come to visit the sick young lad (having found out from Paul that Dhani had come down with a bad case of the flu), joking and cheering him up to distract him from his poor state. The two close friends chat for some time in the living room before Ritchie departs, Olivia checking up on Dhani in the meantime. George thanks his wife and dismisses her from her nurse duties, taking on the responsibility himself. He tiptoes to his son's bedroom cautiously and enterd to see that he's been tucked in, the ice pack George had picked up from the store the previous day resting on his forehead, half-lidded eyes trained onto the telly. "Dhani..?" "Oh- *cough*- hey, Dad"

George approaches the bed and sits down carefully, holding a paper bag out to Dhani. "I brought you a burrito- your favorite," he grins down at his son, who takes the bag: "Really? *cough*- Thanks Dad, you're the best!" he says, hands emerging from the blankets to tear into the treat. George stays sat on the bed, determined to spend time with his sick boy and make sure he knows how loved he is. Glancing around the room at the piano and guitars he's bought and played with Dhani, then back to the young man, Ringo's words from earlier echo in his mind: "He's growing up into such a wonderful lad. He's just like you, ye know- good looks and all."

Olivia had always said they were very alike, but he'd usually dismissed the observation... until now. George couldn't help but realize that they were right- though he was but eleven years old Dhani was already becoming a very talented and creative musician, having learned much about music from his dad. He'd certainly taken after his Beatle father in that regard, and they were in fact very similar- not to mention their near identical looks. Sharing his Dad with the world had been difficult and a bit isolating for Dhani despite his many school mates. He admired and looked up to George from a very young age, always striving to be just like him. As Dhani grew up before George's eyes, he became more and more like his father by the day and George was immensely proud.

His train of thought was broken suddenly when Dhani finished the burrito, crumpling the paper bag and tossing it into the bin. He landed the throw, earning a hearty laugh and a high five from his father. He closed his eyes and laid back, George stroking his hair gently, the two of them cherishing this moment of father-son love. "Are you gettin' sleepy, Dhani?" he asked tenderly- his son nodded in response, already drowsy despite the brightness of the late afternoon sun. "Tell you what- I'll play you a lullaby, that way you can rest easier and know that I'm here beside you." "Dad," Dhani chuckled, "aren't I a little too old for that?" he lied, secretly longing for the affectionate gesture. George grabbed his son's acoustic guitar from its stand and begin to tune it: "You're never too old for yer old man's love and attention, eh? Now you just relax, close your eyes, and rest." Dhani didn't protest any further, heeding his father's instructions with a soft smile on his face. With that, George began to play- he chose "Here Comes The Sun," fingers strumming the strings gently and with care, dedicating the sweet words to his beloved son. By the time he was finished Dhani was fast asleep- grin faltering as he drifted off, but still visible on his lips. George placed the guitar back on the stand gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping lad. He smiled to himself, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to admire his son's peaceful face. "I love you, my boy," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dhani's forehead before tip-toeing out of the room and shutting the door cautiously. Back pressed against the wooden door, George let his eyelids fall shut and sighed: "Sweet dreams, Dhani." ♡

#beatles fanfiction #beatles fandom #the beatles #beatles #george harrison #george harrison imagines #dhani harrison #beatles fluff #LMLBeatles

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

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Male drider x reader - Part Four (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I think the previous parts have had a female reader, but I left it ambiguous/gender neutral in this one, even in the nsfw bits, mostly out of habit.

It's 8000 words, with a bit of angst, a good dose of fluff, some recognition of unhealthy attitudes, and a slightly messy nsfw scene at the end...

Hope you enjoy!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Gilvas waited until you’d closed the matching panel at the other end of the secret passage, and then turned away.

While you worked on the catalogue, you couldn’t shake the vulnerable look on his face as he’d told you about his late wife and as you’d stared at her vivacious features in the portrait. In the nine years since her death, he’d become a shadow, haunting this creepy old mansion and drifting from one day to the next, and it broke your heart. Gilvas was clearly a gentle soul, though his fuse was short at times, but you had begun to suspect that it was more of a defence mechanism than a character trait.

As evening billowed around the stone walls of the enormous house at the end of the day, with an awful lot still swirling around your mind, you nearly walked straight into Naril who was loading his last pile of autumn leaves into a wheelbarrow by the back door. He called your name just in time and you sidestepped with a bashful grin.

“So is it true?” he asked almost immediately.

“Is what true?”

His ears waggled and he laughed as he dumped the leaves into the barrow with a little flourish. “You and the master…?”

“Me and the master what?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “You make it sound like we’re school kids caught snogging behind the bike sheds! He showed me the portrait of his wife and told me a bit about her, that’s all.”

Naril shook his head expressively. “We’ve had people here on the estate before, you know? None of them ended up strolling the corridors with him.”

“How’d you know about it anyway?” you asked instead, resisting the urge to flick him in fond reprimand on his large ear.

“Chiara came in and started talking to my dad about it. I couldn’t believe it, and neither could they. The master doesn’t ‘chat’ with anyone…”

You shrugged. “Well, if he’s happy talking to me, I’m happy enough to listen. He seems nice, once you get past the way he likes to bark at you.”

Two days later, while you were stooped over the working version of the catalogue, scribbling something down in the margins of your cataloguing notes, the shadows moved in the recesses of the library, and Gilvas emerged. You looked up and smiled. “Hi,” you offered.

He nodded curtly at you and began to pace.

Setting your pencil down a minute or two later, you asked, “Everything… alright?”

Gilvas turned, apparently on the point of snapping something acerbic and defensive at you, but he caught himself in time and paused, throat working. The dark red birthmark on his neck moved and shifted like ink in water. If asked, you’d have said he was nervous. “I… I was wondering if you would take tea with me on the terrace today.”

You froze. Of all the things you’d been expecting from him, that had not been it. “Uh…” you began artlessly.

“Or not. You don’t have to,” he blurted, turning away. “Stupid idea anyway.”

“Wait,” you laughed, relief washing through you. “Wait. I’d love to. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

If you’d been surprised, it was nothing to the expression on Chiara’s face when he summoned her to the library with a little bell pull that you’d not spotted before.

“You… You want to take tea… You want to take tea outside…?” the harpy repeated, looking unsteady on her clawed feet.

As if he’d just realised how unusual it was, his expression went blank, his four ruby eyes going dull, and he seemed to deflate. Gone was the intimidating, sharp-edged lord of the manor, and in his place you saw a vulnerable, shattered widower, with no one to talk to and rusty social skills.

Reading her master well enough, Chiara schooled her features into something resembling their usual sternness, and she nodded. “Of course. I will have it set up for you and…” she looked at you with her golden eyes and you tried not to shrink away. “For the both of you.”

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, departing.

“I think I gave her quite the shock,” he muttered, half smirking.

With a snort, you said, “We’re just going to have to find more ways to surprise them.”

“Them?”

“Your staff,” you said. “It’s clear that they all respect you, and they enjoy working here - well, obviously I can’t speak for all of them, but I have supper with Mr. Ambleside and his son almost every night. I don’t get the impression that they’d object to seeing a bit more of their mysterious master from time to time.”

“It’s been so long,” he croaked. “I… I’ve hidden myself away up here. I… I don’t remember — I mean…” he broke off and you noticed how glassy his eyes were.

Cautiously, you approached him and laid your hand on his foremost right leg. It was smooth like glass, and cold. It felt extremely brittle, though you knew the chitin was pretty tough. Your eyes nearly drifted to the empty stump on his right side though, and you suppressed a shiver. It wasn’t that tough. He shuddered and you nearly retracted your touch. “Sounds like you could use a friend to take tea with every now and again…” you said gently.

“I’d like that,” he said. “If… If you could bear it.”

“Bear it?” you repeated. “Please. I wouldn’t have accepted if it wasn’t something I didn’t already want to do.”

Gilvas fixed you with a piercing red gaze, making the blood-dark streak of his hair and the swirling birthmark stand out in vivid detail. “No,” he mused slowly, his legs and spider body relaxing a little into your touch like a great machine coming to rest. “I don’t suppose you would.”

Tea on the terrace became a daily fixture, weather permitting, and on the first day it was rained off, he asked you into a small drawing room on the ground floor that you’d never been in before.

Four and a half months into your stay, he leaned over the table and poured you another cup with shaking hands. He always shook, you realised, though the tremors worsened when he grew agitated or emotional. If Naril was right, he was about ten years older than you, and while at times he seemed youthful and almost playful when you got him talking about one of his interests - mathematics was a particular favourite of his - there were times when he seemed stiff and tired, and much, much older than you; and older than he truly was. He carried the weight of his grief around with him everywhere, dragging at him like chains, rattling in the quiet corridors of his mind and reminding him of his heartache. He never went too long with a smile on his face, the expression often shattering or sliding off his face to leave a brittle mask behind.

“Gilvas?” you asked as he set the teapot down on the tray with a rattle. “Everything alright?”

“You’re too perceptive by half,” he grumbled. “I wanted to ask you to dine with me tonight.”

“Oh,” you breathed, taken off-guard.

“You sound disappointed,” he said a slight huff to his tone.

Conflicted, you said, “It’s Naril’s birthday. He’s celebrating with the rest of the staff and some of his friends tonight, and he asked me to join him…”

“Then you must go, obviously,” he said. After a pause he added, “Naril is the one who tends to the gardens, is he not?”

“Mmm. He’s a firbolg.”

“My father always hired firbolgs for their way with nature. I’d forgotten that Ambleside has a child. How old is he?”

“About my age, I suppose?”

Whether or not he was aware of it, Gilvas’ face shuttered at that. With a sigh, he shifted his already vague gaze to the huge patio windows beside you and stared out at the gardens beyond. It had been raining earlier, but it had cleared up now to leave broad puddles flashing in the sunlight on the terrace. “I think I will go for a walk through the gardens this evening before sunset…”

“You want some company?” you asked, but he shook his head.

“No. Thank you.”

Naril’s party was just rowdy enough to be fun without straying too far into unruliness, and you stayed up late in the kitchens, laughing and joking with him and his father, who, it turned out, had quite the sense of humour with a few glasses of wine in him. Eloise, the maid, also joined you, and a few friends of Naril’s who lived in Starfall Springs. The laughter continued long into the night, until his friends from town announced that it was time to head back just shy of one in the morning.

Waving them off at the end of the night, still buzzing with the unusually vibrant evening, you and Naril turned from the upper gates and walked back to the house. In the dark, the firbolg could see much better than you, so he let you loop your arm amicably through his to stop yourself stumbling on the uneven driveway.

Just as you stepped back into the kitchen, he cracked a good-natured joke at your expense, recalling a moment from earlier in the evening, and you nearly fell about laughing. “Oh my gods,” you wheezed as you clung to his arm to stop yourself tripping up the step. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the plosive consonant with a chuckle. “You’re far too easy to tease. I —” he cut off suddenly, expression falling. His eyes were wide and he was staring at a point on the far side of the kitchen.

You looked up and found the hulking shape of a drider standing silhouetted in the dark doorway. “Forgive me,” Gilvas said stiffly, jaw working. “I came for a brandy. I thought you’d all turned in for the night.”

You blurted, “Gilvas?” at the same time as Naril whispered, “My lord?”

“Forget it,” he said, turning abruptly in the wide doorway. “I hope you enjoyed your evening together.”

Even after the door slammed behind him - the gesture leaving a sour taste in your mouth - neither you nor Naril spoke.

Finally it was Naril who broke the silence. “I’ve never seen him before…” he murmured, awestruck at the encounter. “He looks dreadful. Perhaps he is sick after all?”

“He doesn’t look as dreadful as he looked three months ago,” Chiara’s unexpected voice said tartly from the pantry to your left where she’d apparently been occupied, stowing away the remnants of the uneaten food.

You swallowed. “Well… I… uh… I guess I’d better head back. Thanks for tonight,” you said, hugging Naril briefly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t have anything to give you… It’s not as if I can go into town or anything from here…”

“Couldn’t you ask your friend to pick you up,” he said. “You know, the one you phone every Friday?”

Despite having phoned Damien every week since arriving, you’d never even thought of asking him to drive all the way out here and pick you up for the weekend. He’d probably do it though if you asked. “I guess I could…”

The idea took root in your mind, and as you took your break the next day, you used the house’s landline to call Damien’s shop since he’d be at work too.

“Hey!” he chuckled. “You don’t normally phone today. How’s things at the Spookville Court?”

“Don't call it that,” you scoffed. “It’s fine. Listen, I haven’t got long, but I was wondering if maybe you’d be free this weekend…? I know it’s not exactly a short drive, but I’d kind of like to get out of here for the weekend…”

There was a pause while he checked his calendar. “Sure,” he said. “I can pick you up on Friday night if you like?”

“You don't have plans?”

“I was gonna grab a beer with Sarrigan since he’s in town,” he admitted, “But maybe if you can get away early, we could go together?”

“I don’t see why I couldn’t…” you said. No one was monitoring your hours after all, and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t made huge inroads into the project already.

You grinned and practically flung yourself at him when Damien’s truck drew up outside your cottage on the far side of the courtyard. The wide expanse of gravel sat on the side of the house with the servants’ entrance, and was overlooked by the back of the mansion.

“I missed you!” you laughed, letting the colossal orc spin you easily in a circle. “You still smell like chocolate,” you said as his immensely long, black plait caught you in the face.

“Just proves I’m sweet,” he joked, and you groaned, smacking him in the chest with the back of your hand as he set you down.

“That was a bad pun, even for you.”

“You ready?” he asked.

“You don’t want to stretch your legs first? You’ve literally just got here.” He shook his head, but did nip inside your apartment for a drink of water and a bathroom break. While he was gone, you leaned against his truck and looked up at the trees above you. The height of summer was fading to the bronze of autumn now, and a few coppery leaves rained down around you like confetti, spiralling through the air that promised a change of season soon.

“Ready?” he asked, swinging your overnight bag easily into the truck and helping you up the enormous step into the cab.

As you drove away, you glanced up at the house and caught the glint of sun on a window as it closed on one of the upper storeys, but you soon forgot about the house as Damien began to regale you with stories of your friends’ antics.

With Widowsweb Court in the rear view mirror, you sighed and settled into the comfy seat, letting Damien talk as the house dwindled to nothing behind you. It felt good to be away from the limited confines of the estate, but as you looked forward to a weekend in Starfall Springs with your friends, something nagged at the back of your mind, like a caught thread pulling in the sleeve of a favourite sweater…

Your whole weekend in Starfall Springs was like the first breath of fresh garden air after a day spent in the dusty library of Widowsweb Court.

Damien had taken you to the Inglenook Inn that first night, where he, Sarrigan, their respective partners, plus a mothman named Merritt whom you’d met a few times before, and a couple of your other friends were gathered, and the lot of you talked late into the night. There were a lot of questions about Widowsweb Court, but you mostly focused on the work and describing the house and gardens to them. Somehow it felt disrespectful - an invasion of his privacy - to talk about Gilvas much.

As you left the pub to walk back to your modest apartment at the north end of the town, Sarrigan caught up with you. As he scuttled up to you, you were struck suddenly by the difference between him and Gilvas. Sarrigan Silkfoot’s silver-banded fur rippled in the moonlight, ruffled by the night breezes, where Gilvas’ spider body was black, hard, and shiny as black lacquer, and where Gilvas’ legs moved like articulated, curved daggers, Sarrigan’s were chunky and muscular and unbelievably fuzzy, ending in a little hooked and almost dainty talon. Gilvas’ legs ended in wicked points, sharp and slender as paring knives, and his fangs probably carried a deadly venom, where Sarrigan’s smile held only jollity. Gilvas also had no mandibles, where Sarrigan’s hardware clicked and chittered with his emotions.

“Listen,” he said as he fell into a near-silent step beside you. “I know you’ve not got any reception up there at Widowsweb, so I haven’t been able to get in touch by text or whatever, but I just wanted to ask you - away from the others - how it’s going. With my family’s history with theirs, I did some digging into the Widowsweb estate and the family…”

“You did?” You weren’t sure whether to be offended or curious, but in the end, the latter won out. “What did you find?”

“Just tragedy. Lately anyway. Earlier generations seem to have done ok, but… you should look him up.”

“Who, Gilvas?”

He nodded.

“You mean the fire?”

Again, he nodded, shuffling nervously. “The police think he started it, but they could never prove it.”

You scowled, horrified and hurt. “Sarrigan, I’ve met him. He doesn't seem like the type to murder his family - and his unhatched children too?” You shook your head, appalled, stomach roiling. “He’s devastated… rarely talks about them, and when he does… he’s close to tears. I think he lost a leg in the fire too.”

Sarrigan’s handsome face remained harsh and he clicked his mandibles pensively. Finally, he sighed. “Just… be careful, ok? The articles I found all said he had a nasty temper, and that since his wife’s death, he fired all the staff and turned into some kind of recluse…”

“They’ve got the last bit right,” you said, “But not the first.” He did have a short fuse though. “Thanks for looking out for me, Sarrigan, but I’m not worried.”

He nodded once. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

You shook your head and parted from him with a warm hug. “I appreciate it, but trust me… Gilvas isn’t some cruel, violent lunatic. He’s an isolated widower who’s never learned how to move past his grief.”

To your relief, Sarrigan seemed to take you at your word, and left you at your door looking happier for having aired his anxieties, and in turn having had them laid to rest.

The remainder of your weekend passed without incident, but you couldn’t get Sarrigan’s words out of your head. If he’d been painted by the press at the time as some kind of violent monster, it was no wonder that Gilvas had hidden himself away on his estate and never spoke to anyone.

On the Sunday of your weekend away, you met up with a few friends at Damien’s cafe for breakfast, and spent the better part of the day while the sun was out browsing the marketplace. As you passed a carpenter’s stall, your eye was drawn by a number of carved, wooden puzzle boxes. The satyr who had made them was demonstrating how one of them worked to a small crowed of fascinated onlookers, and when he finished, finally sliding the last section of wood free, the lid sprang open to reveal the empty chamber inside, and everyone applauded.

Fascinated, you realised what a tactile thing the boxes were, and suddenly thought of Gilvas. With his reduced sight, he relied a lot on his sense of touch. On a whim, you bought one and had it wrapped neatly in brown paper by the satyr. Thanking him, you headed home and packed up, bringing with you a few new clothes and a few more things to occupy your evenings.

Bouncing back up the driveway in Damien’s truck that evening, you couldn’t miss the looks the orc tossed you sidelong, and as you drew to a halt in the courtyard again, he stayed put in his seat and asked, “Are you really alright here? It’s so remote…”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I love the work, and the people are kind. I promise I’ll ring you the moment I’m unhappy, but for now, I’m honestly loving it. I’ve never had a better or more fulfilling job, Damien. I can’t believe I’ve got so little time left really…” You paused and sighed. “I almost don’t want to leave.”

He bowed his head and backed off, though not without pulling you half into his lap for a bone-crushing hug first. “Take care, OK?” he grunted before releasing you.

“You sure you won’t stay for some supper?” you asked as you slithered out of your side of the cab and landed on the gravel. “I bet you’d love Naril.”

“I can’t,” he said with a regretful grimace. “I need to get back to prep the shop for next week. Another time?”

You nodded. “Drive safely.”

For the entire week following your return to Widowsweb Court, you didn’t see even the slightest glimpse of Gilvas.

There was no trace of his having been in the library at all, and the secret panel at the rear of the room stayed firmly shut. You didn’t think it was your place to go wandering the corridors again, and although you continued to take a mug of tea out onto the terrace every afternoon, it was hardly the spread of High Tea that you had shared with him every day for months. The whole place seemed empty without his presence now, reminding you of your very first week there, when every shadow and doorway had loomed ominously large before you.

Finally, at the end of the week, you ran in to Chiara on your way back down and you paused to let her past with an armful of linen. “Chiara, is… is Gilvas around? Is he alright?”

She narrowed her eyes and tutted softly at you. “None of your concern,” she snipped at you before bustling off.

You stood there, mute and surprised.

It definitely didn’t sound like he was alright, but what were you to him, really? You thought of the box stowed away in your room, waiting for the right time to be brought out and given to him, and suddenly felt foolish. You’d known him for a matter of months. He was a lord, with land and a title; he had a whole household full of things already, and you were just there to reorganise his library. He’d probably already forgotten about you.

You worked solidly through the morning again the next day, but didn’t feel hungry enough to go down to lunch. You continued on through the day, pausing only to sip from your water bottle before heading back up the ladders time and time again with armfuls of books. It was exhausting. There was no trace of the webbing he’d used to catch you, and since there was also no sign of him, you made sure to take extra care going up and down.

With a sigh you finally set down the last of the hagiographies at eight o’clock that night, and put your hands to the small of your back, grunting. Dusty, tired, stiff, and still oddly demoralised, you thought you heard the creak of a door from the back of the library, but you’d barely dared to hope before the main doors opened and Naril stumped in, looking terribly out of place and awkward in his gardening overalls. He had mud on his trousers, but his boots had been scraped clean.

He sighed your name in obvious relief when he spotted you. “You ok?” he asked.

“Fine, why?” you frowned as you turned to face him, still with your palms pressed to the small of your back.

“You didn’t come to lunch, and you missed supper as well. I was worried about you.”

You smiled and dropped your hands to your sides. “I’m fine. I just… haven’t felt like myself lately. Thank you though.”

An awkward silence hung between you, and he scratched the back of his head. “Right. Well, there’s… uh… stuff in the larder and fridge if… if you get hungry. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t been crushed by a ton of books or something.”

With a chuckle, you said, “This isn’t The Mummy you know? People do actually secure their bookshelves…”

He laughed briefly and headed for the doors again. “Seriously though… Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked, ears waggling.

“I’ve… I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Ok,” he said, green eyes wide and glassy. “Well, you can always talk to me. What are friends for, right?”

“Right. Thank you, Naril.”

He nodded, and left.

In the silent stillness of the library, you sank with a heavy sigh into one of the nearby chairs and let your palm cradle your chin, with your elbow planted on the wood of the table. When had this place started to feel so sad again? It was as if the gloom was seeping back into the fabric of the place like a sponge soaking up ink.

About a minute later, a familiar movement caught your attention and you looked up to find Gilvas standing beside a bookshelf. He was tilting his head in that way that meant he couldn’t see you in the dim light, but he knew you were still there.

“I’m here,” you said quietly, hardly daring to move in case he scuttled away.

Locking onto your voice, he moved with expert familiarity round the library and came to a halt near your table. The only light now came from a lamp one shelf over. “I… I overheard…” he began stiffly. His red gaze sailed right over your head, so it was clear that he couldn’t see you, even this close up. “Is… I mean… Are you alright?”

“Could ask the same of you,” you said wryly, eyeing the dark shadows under his eyes and the tightness around his mouth. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” He looked dreadful again, as if he’d hardly eaten anything in the interim.

“Been better, I suppose,” he said. “The firbolg said you haven’t eaten today… is that right?”

“Mmm.”

“Should we raid the kitchen together?”

You smiled. “You haven’t eaten either I take it…”

He shook his head.

Standing, you swayed as a head rush washed over you and you let out a tiny grunt of surprise, grabbing the back of the chair.

With a scowl, he stepped closer. “Alright?” He steadied you, his hand finding your waist and lingering there.

“I missed you,” you breathed unthinkingly as you stared up at him.

Gilvas froze and then let out a rough exhale, withdrawing a few paces. “You did?”

“Mmm. I have something for you too, from Starfall, but it’s back in my room. I… I’d started to think I wasn’t going to see you again…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers curling briefly into fists at his side. “I… I rather let the melancholy take over again.”

“Why?” you asked, stepping closer to him. His ear followed you and he narrowed his eyes. You got the impression that you’d just stepped into his limited field of vision and he could now make out your silhouette in the shadowy library.

The lord of Widowsweb Court gave a bitter, brittle laugh and turned away, legs moving in sequence like a windup toy. “I think I misled myself,” he said eventually.

Your brows knitted and you closed the distance between you, laying your hand boldly on his cool, obsidian foreleg again. As before, he shivered, but he didn't pull away. “What do you mean?”

“I suppose I got carried away - this past month in particular,” he said in his rough baritone.

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, that cut-glass edge returning to his voice. “You don’t know what it was like before you came here; before you —” he stopped himself but then took a breath and continued in barely a whisper, the consonants softly articulated. You had to lean in closer to hear him. “Before you brought the light back to this place.” His voice cracked as he added, “And you took it with you.”

“Gilvas…” you gasped, shocked by his tone.

“I know,” he growled. “It’s inappropriate of me, and melodramatic. You were only gone for two days. But it’s the truth. I got so swept up in spending time with someone again — in… in enjoying myself — that I somehow forgot that you have a whole life outside of our brief interactions here, beyond these walls…”

“Naril's birthday…” you breathed and he nodded. He’d stumbled upon you and Naril sharing a laugh and a close touch at his birthday and had assumed from the physical closeness that there was something more than friendship between you. That had been the last time you’d seen him.

Then he shook his head in disgust and sneered self-deprecatingly, “It’s as though I became a teenager again - spoilt and sour and… everything I loathe about myself.”

He backed away out of your grip until his huge carapace nudged against the shelf behind him and he went still again. Trapped between you and the books, he breathed heavily for a moment through his aquiline nose. Your heart was beating in your throat but you kept quiet.

“I have a nasty, possessive side,” he said, scowling. “I’d almost forgotten about it, but as — I hesitate to call it a friendship… I’m not sure what we had between us — but whatever it was grew, I came to think of you as… mine. And then I saw you laughing with him and… I remembered that you’re not mine at all. I have no right to make those kinds of disgusting demands or claims. You’re not mine — you’re not anyone’s but your own person. I forgot myself, and I hated myself for it.”

He was jealous.

Gilvas was jealous that you’d been laughing with Naril that night. Despite the anguish on his face, you had to smile. When he heard you chuckle softly, he growled at you again, deep and rich and animalistic. Defensive. That was all it was; defensive bluster.

“It’s true that Naril has come to be my friend here,” you said, moving carefully closer to him now that he couldn’t back away any more. “But I thought about you all weekend while I was away. I couldn’t get you out of my head. When my friend Sarrigan —”

“— Silkfoot?” he interrupted with a sneer. “‘Sarrigan’ is an old Silkfoot name…”

“Yes. Sarrigan Silkfoot is a friend of mine,” you said carefully, noting the lingering displeasure in his features. “He’s currently dating a human, and my best friend, Damien, is also very much in love with a human. If you’re worried about what previous generations of Silkfoots thought about relationships between species, you needn’t worry. The current heir to the family - Sarrigan’s older brother - has even recently married a human. Things have moved on since the founding of Widowsweb…”

His chest heaved and he sank lower so that his pendulous spider’s body was only a few inches above the ground, and his torso and head were almost on a level with yours. “I’ve hidden myself away too long,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

Taking a final step over to him, you stood in the space between his deadly front legs. It felt suddenly intimate in the extreme, and you reached your palm out and laid it on his chest. He flinched, but let you talk.

“Sarrigan told me a bit more about the papers said… about the circumstances of the fire… about what people believed at the time…” you said carefully, and Gilvas’ face darkened dangerously. “But I got to know you before I’d heard that, and I can’t believe you would have started it. I can’t believe anyone thought that of you.” You placed your left palm to mirror your right and felt the way his chest heaved with emotion as he listened. “You’re a good person, Gilvas. I told my friends that, and they believed me. And I think you’ve suffered alone for long enough.”

Gilvas’ expression shattered and he leaned forwards and drew you into his arms. “I don't want you to leave…” he whispered into your hair as he held you close. He smelled like books and sandalwood, warm and comforting, and you let your arms snake around his waist.

“I don't have anything else lined up for after I finish here,” you said without letting go. He was gently inhaling the scent of you, you realised, and you let him hold you, drawing comfort from the warmth of your body. “And I told you there’s a lifetime’s worth of work to do on this library…”

“I could renew your contract,” he said. “Or… Or you could… No. I don't want you to feel… obliged…” he said, swallowing thickly and drawing sharply back from your embrace as if you’d burned him. “If I’m paying you —” his face buckled into a sour grimace and he lurched slightly further away from you. “I don’t want to pay you to stay here…” he spat as if the idea thoroughly disgusted him.

You laughed. “I own my apartment in Starfall. I could rent it out for some income, and come and live here with you. That way… there’s no imbalance…”

“Yes,” he nodded breathlessly, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. “Yes, that’s… that’s good. And if you still have your apartment, you can… I mean… there will be somewhere for you… if… if you decide…”

“Stop,” you said. “Don’t push me away again.”

The drider took a huge inhale and nodded. Then he licked his lips nervously and said, “You know, we were going to raid the kitchen before we went down this path. You shouldn’t make any rash decisions on an empty stomach.”

“An excellent point,” you said with mock seriousness. “Let’s go.”

Over a rather strange and cobbled-together supper of leftovers scrounged from the pantry, eaten at the scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen, Gilvas stayed almost completely silent. At first, you thought he was just concentrating on eating, being particularly careful about his movements since he didn’t see as clearly as you did, but after a while, you discovered the crinkle in his brow and noticed the tremor in his fingers again.

“Wait here,” you said, pushing back from the table and touching the back of his hand briefly. He was always so cold.

“Where are you going?” he barked, tense.

With a giggle, you said, “Trust me. I’ll be right back.”

And with that, you vanished out of the back door and scuttled over the gravel to the little apartment above the old stable block where you’d been staying for the past few months. Minutes later, you returned to find him exactly where you’d left him, scowling at his food.

He looked up sharply as you reentered, and you watched his shoulders drop with relief a split second later when he figured out that it was you.

“Here,” you said, holding out the brown paper parcel to him, touching it to the back of his fingers in case he couldn’t see it.

In moments, it was obvious to you that he couldn’t, because his fingertips trailed along the edges, looking for a way into the parcel. “What is it?” he asked warily, shifting his head from side to side.

“You’ll find out. I saw them being made in the marketplace, and I think with your sense of touch you’ll probably have an advantage over someone with sharper vision…”

At that, his frown deepened, though not from discomfort. He was openly curious now, and he got to work on the wrappings, abandoning them to one side. “A box?” he murmured when he’d run his fingers all the way around it. Watching him, you suddenly felt a thrum of desire go right through you. You wanted him to do that to your body, to explore you by touch, and you barely bit back a moan as the force of it swept through you.

He paused and turned his face towards you expectantly.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “It’s a puzzle box. It’s all inlaid with different types of wood, and there are a few panels and sections that you have to slide in the right order to open it.”

At that, his face cracked into a gorgeous, open, delighted grin and your heart slipped sideways in your chest at the youthfulness it lent to his features. “I used to love these as a child,” he said. “Thank you.”

He moved then, obviously not having been sitting on a chair like you, and found his way faultlessly around the kitchen to where you were seated opposite him. The little inlaid box lay to one side on the table while he took your hands in his and squeezed your knuckles fondly, earnestly.

“Thank you,” he rasped again.

You raised your chin and he let go of you with his right hand and brought it up to cup your left cheek in his cool palm. His thumb traced an arc across your skin and you shivered, exhaling and breathing hard. “Gilvas…” you whispered, want burning inside you inside you like a flare. You didn’t want to push him or rush him, but if he didn’t kiss you in the next three seconds, you thought you might just wither up and die on the spot.

Mercifully, he leaned down, tilting your chin upwards to meet his lips. His kiss was soft, his lips cool and hesitant, but the moment you let a little moan of pleasure escape you, he deepened the kiss. His long fingers scrunched in your hair and he closed his red eyes with a flutter of long lashes. His two forelegs rose up slightly for balance as his body rocked downwards and he pulled back with a gasp, chest heaving again. “I want you,” he whispered hoarsely, looking suddenly shy.

You grinned and stood. “I want you too…”

Gilvas led you through the house, pausing with endearing frequency to kiss you breathless against almost every spare surface that wasn’t covered by paintings or suits of armour or priceless vases on precarious pedestals, and finally he backed you up against the double doors to a bedroom on the fourth floor, and picked you up so that you had to latch your legs around his waist at the point where his humanoid torso met his spider’s body. You ground yourself against him as he kissed you over and over, his long hair falling around your face in a black and red curtain.

With one foreleg, he delicately pushed the handle down and nudged the doors open. Still holding you, he drew your top off over your head, discarding it to one side as he carried you across the room and deposited you onto a massive bed. It bounced and flexed beneath you, and as you looked around you discovered that it was not a bed, but a thick and intricately woven web slung between the two perpendicular walls of the far corner of the room. You leaned back into it, feeling the soft silken strands flex slightly beneath you, and looked up to see Gilvas’ silhouette in the darkness of the room.

The moon shone through an open window to your right, painting fine silver highlights to the gleaming lacquer of his carapace and needle-like legs, and in the moonlight, you saw that he was dripping webbing onto the floor from the gland at the tip of his spider’s abdomen. You knew enough about driders to know that when they got really aroused, they often leaked webbing like this. Male driders did not mate the way many other beings did, but that didn't put you off. You wanted him - his pleasure, his ecstasy, his noises, his joy…

It did make him suddenly nervous though, as if he’d only just realised that you might be expecting him to penetrate you, and with his anatomy, he couldn’t.

“Gilvas?” you asked, reaching up for him where he still loomed hesitantly above you. “Come here… let me take care of you…”

“I…” he began, but he let you draw him down onto the soft, smooth webbing. His legs ended in those dazzlingly sharp points, and he seemed to dance across the webs like a circus performer on a high wire. He lowered himself down atop you and you kissed him again. His hands skated over your hips and he drew the rest of your clothes off to abandon them beside his bed.

Seeking friction, he carefully slid his slick abdomen against your legs and shivered, moaning. “You’re so warm,” he whispered, head bowing forwards as he rested on his elbows, one on either side of your body. “I can’t believe how warm you are… it’s… it…”

“Does it feel good?” you asked, raking your fingers through his long hair and he nodded wordlessly. “Can you roll over?” you asked.

“Oh gods,” he gasped, clearly aroused by the idea, and nodded.

It wasn’t the most elegant manoeuvres, but once he was on his back with his legs curled upwards like a black, clawed hand, you sat in the gap where his one missing leg should have been, and ran your hand over the smoothness of his underbelly. In no time you discovered the slit in his lower body that was leaking slick, pearlescent fluid all over himself.

“Oh!” he yelled, spine curling and legs twitching as you traced your fingertips around the softer inner walls of the slit. Where the rest of his body was cool and hard, there he was almost searingly hot, the inner walls silky and slick. “Oh gods, oh gods… oh gods…” he chanted in time with your motions, his whole body twitching and making the webbing rock beneath him.

The tendons of his neck stood out in glorious contrast beneath the watercolour birthmark as he clenched his jaw and rammed his eyes shut, lost in the sensations. His fingers scrabbled at the web of his bed and he rocked and shivered and arched into your touch as you worked him closer and closer. You knew he was going to make a mess when he came, and you felt your whole body flush hot at the thought of finally getting him to let go of all his tight control and insecurities, to give himself over to the simple, honest pleasure you were offering to give him.

The thought of that was almost enough to make you come yourself, but you focused on him until he growled softly.

“I want…” he began but cut off as you grazed a spot inside him unexpectedly with a fingertip that made him bellow wordlessly. “Fuck…” he hissed when he’d recovered, head lolling back again, and you grinned at the curse on his aristocratic tongue. “Wait…” he panted. “I want… I want to touch you… before I… before you make me…” he growled again in frustration. “I’ll only be able to… to… come once… please… let me…” Hearing him lose control of his words like that in the face of his arousal only made it all the more endearing.

“You can touch me,” you said coyly without changing anything, but when he genuinely snarled, sounding more like a werewolf than a drider, you laughed and leaned closer to him.

His cool fingers dug into your arms as he tugged you tight against his body, pulling you down to lie atop him along the length of his belly and humanoid stomach, and you ground yourself against him for a little relief. His hand slid down your body, down your side, and before you could think, he was pleasuring you. “Let me,” he hissed when you tensed a little, revealing his venomous fangs as a flash of white in the dimness when you tried to pull back to finish him.

“But I wanted to make you come,” you pouted, and he actually laughed at that, four red eyes closing and crinkling softly in the corners with genuine amusement at your disgruntlement.

“Too bad,” he groused. “I want to watch you first.”

“Fair enough,” you grunted as he caught you just so and you rocked against him. “I’m so close…” and you really were. His touch was relentless, demanding your pleasure in return for the sensations you’d just given him.

“I know,” he snarled right in your ear, teeth - the non-venomous ones you hoped - just grazing the shell of your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

And with that, you came unexpectedly hard, crashing into your release and clinging to him. He eased you through it and when you lay panting and spent on his chest, he moved his hand to his mouth and cleaned himself luxuriantly, obviously enjoying the taste of you on his skin.

After that, he seemed softer and more relaxed, and when you’d recovered enough to get your legs back under you and return your attentions to his body, he finally seemed to have allowed himself this connection to another person. His body heaved and rocked rhythmically, his legs knocking nonchalantly against each other as he spasmed and moaned, and as he grew wetter and slicker around your hand, and his inner walls began to clench and shiver in a distinct cadence, you knew he was getting close. He was also giving you the most delicious sounds; gasping and cursing, grunting and even wailing softly at times when you slowed your touches to a barely-there whisper against him.

Eventually though, he began to rock against you in earnest, and you felt his release coming as a rapidly-building wave, gathering momentum until it finally ripped through him like a wildfire. White release gushed from his entrance and covered your hand, rolling down the sleek, shiny carapace to soak into the webbing while his body heaved and convulsed with pleasure. He made no sound, his face contorted in a rictus of pleasure as he gave everything he had to you, his hands gripping the webbing as he released in messy waves all over himself and you.

Finally as the pleasure faded to something gentler and less intense, he lay back, motionless on his bed, muscles completely slack, face soft, breathing quiet.

“Gilvas?”

“Mmm?” he hummed without moving.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

Weak and completely spent, he lay there unmoving for a long time while you gently trailed your fingers around his still clenching slit as aftershocks of pleasure rippled through him. Eventually, you wiped your hand clean on the webs beside him and shuffled up to lie beside him. He still looked absolutely exhausted and drained, and you sat there a long time just watching him.

After a very long time, he mustered the energy to open one arm to you and you nuzzled in against his bare shoulder. His breath hissed softly through his slack jaw and he pressed a shy kiss to the top of your head. “See why I wanted… to make you… to make you come first?” he whispered, words heavily slurred and indistinct.

You nodded and shifted to drape your arm across his chest and draw idle patterns over the bare skin of his white torso.

His skin was starkly pale in the moonlight, and as you stared at him, you realised he’d probably relied solely on touch for the whole time you’d been in the room. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his jutting collarbone, making him inhale sharply.

He was still too thin, still obviously not taking care of himself properly, but, you thought, if he’d trusted you and let you in to this extent, perhaps you could both take care of each other now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he whispered after another long while of silence and closeness in the dark.

“Just thinking how good this feels,” you said honestly. “And how I could lie like this forever… Or at least… until you’re ready to go again.”

He snorted, taken off-guard. “Won’t be for a very long while,” he said bashfully. “Driders don’t recover quickly. Not the male ones, anyway.”

“I’m in no rush,” you said, laying your cheek back down on his cool skin and shivering as goosebumps rippled up your body.

He fumbled around on his other side and drew a large blanket up and over his body, careful to avoid the mess on his carapace, and let you snuggle up beneath it.

You’d have to wait for the dawn to go again though, because you were asleep in his arms in minutes.

___

Maybe we'll get to see more of them in the future, but for now, this four-part story is over. Thanks for your comments and enthusiasm for the cranky spooder boy!

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#drider #exophilia #male drider #male drider x reader #drider x reader #monster boyfriend #drider boyfriend #male monster #gender neutral reader #female reader #(technically - although the reader in this part is gn)

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delldarling · 4 years ago

Text

all that matters | merrick

chasing truth | chapter nine male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 7803 words lemon | teasing about relationship, communication about feelings and past relationships, kissing, nipping/mild biting, hair pulling, oral, hands, lube, penetrative sex, banter & talking during sex chapter index? or chapter eight?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

For a moment or two, you can bury the knowledge of Faerie behind the facades you've come to know and care for. You've known Gar as nothing more than a handsome, nerdy human being for years, and Merrick? Sarcastic, awkward Merrick has been one of your closest friends over the past year and change. It's safe to say that you've spent ample time in their presence, trading jokes and building stories you know you'll share for years to come.

That false screen over their true selves won’t ever last now though. You know what lies under their glamour, and you know them too well. You can't ignore the things you've seen. Neither you nor Merrick will ever doubt Gar's morality and honesty again. Not when it comes to those he cares for. Not after what he’s told you and Merrick about his Court.

The car doors close in quick succession, one after the other, echoing down the dim, silent street. No one comes to investigate. No lights flicker behind the curtained windows, and no one cracks open their door. It's a relief, and yet a mild disappointment, knowing what you're all about to do.

“This still doesn’t sit particularly right with me,” you say softly, words barely more than a breath tickling your lower lip. You clutch your bag to your chest, fingertips digging into the seams to better distract yourself. Ditching the car and taking another makes sense, but just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it. Or approve of it.

Merrick can’t quite look you in the face, but Gar only shrugs. “It’s not the kindest option, not by a long shot, but we can’t travel on foot,” he says. Part of you wants to cringe because Gar doesn’t mean we, he means you. “Besides, we need to make it to where we’re staying in the next few hours, and this is the quickest way to tempt Roran closer without putting any of us in danger.”

You turn, eyeing the cars lining the street, and sigh. More stealing. It’s fairly silly that you’re worrying about this kind of crime, especially when you’ve already been riding around in a stolen car all day with a faerie assassin. You can’t stop the itch of the thought in the back of your brain, which probably means this is how you’re attempting to compartmentalize everything.

“I won’t even break the seatbelts this time,” Merrick tells you, cautiously placing his hand on your shoulder, fingers feather light. Relief eases the tension around his eyes when you don’t move away, and he sighs when you step into the circle of his arms. “If you don’t want to witness it,” he whispers, leaning his head against yours, “then I suggest you keep holding me. He’s right though. We can’t keep the same car, not after we clouded the whole thing with glamour.”

“I know,” you say against his neck, enjoying the warmth of his skin against your cheek and temple. “I get it, the whole thing, but it’s not going to stop feeling wrong just because I know it’s necessary.”

Merrick breathes deep, and you can already tell that he’s going to keep trying to explain it away. “If we thought that-”

“You don’t need to defend yourself. We’ll get in the new car, we’ll head to our stop for the night and it’ll be fine. I just… Need to compartmentalize, and that’s rather new.” You sigh against his neck, the tickle of breath making him shiver. Merrick shifts, hands leaving your back and sliding up your shoulders until he can cradle your face in his hands. His thumbs stroke over your cheekbones, tender and careful, and you can’t think to do anything but blink up at him.

“Or I could distract you?” He offers, and bends his head down, covering your lips with his. A few hours ago and you would have been too tired, too on edge and hungry for food to let him try this, no matter how attracted you are to him. But everything with him, regardless of the fear and adrenaline, is still brand new and leaves your fingers aching, eager to keep him close. Even with all that you’ve learned, Merrick still feels the same, warm skin and calloused fingers, and it’s familiar and… comforting. When his mouth opens, breath hitching as you lean in against him, you find yourself wondering how eager he’s been for more of this. More of you.

Merrick puts his whole body into the kiss, pressed against you from chest to thigh, the taste of floral tea filling your senses as his fingertips carefully stroke behind your ears. He hums into your mouth when you roll your tongue and even though your eyes have fallen closed, you could almost swear that a brilliant light is beginning to shi—

“Hey!” Gar shouts hoarsely, and something hard bounces off of Merrick’s forehead. When the two of you stop kissing, eyes darting to the small item rolling slowly away from you, it turns out to be a small, wizened acorn, cap long lost. The two of you turn to look at Gar with startled expressions and find him trying to hold a fierce scowl on his lips. A muscle in his cheek jumps, betraying his amusement.

“I hope the both of you realize what happens every time that starts up! And if you do then I suggest you take a moment to reflect... You don’t,” Gar says after a moment, stalking closer with a steady frown now on his lips. “Merrick, you light up like a firefly every time you touch! You may as well be a torch in the middle of the street!”

Merrick’s mouth opens, attempting to disagree, but his lips curl and his nose wrinkles, like he’s tasted something off.

“You do. I’m over here jimmying open a car door, trying to steal it, and suddenly there’s a blazing light in the middle of the road! Everyone on this street is probably going to come out here, and-” Gar freezes when you shush him, eyebrows rising.

“Everyone is going to wake up if you’re shouting!” You snap, embarrassed but mostly tense because you still cannot quite believe you’re both being chastised for a handful of kisses. Both of the faeries grimace, shoulders hunching like they want the ground to swallow them whole. “I’m never going to say this again,” you mutter, already regretting your interruption, “but please: Go back to stealing the car, and Merrick and I will discuss his—his enthusiasm.” The frown on Gar’s face promptly vanishes.

“Enthusiasm,” he mutters, a goofy smile replacing his initial ire. He looks slyly at Merrick, but then holds up his hands in surrender when Merrick glares. “Right. Stealing. I’ll be quiet until it’s time to go.” He turns on his heel, heading back towards an old looking Datsun, a ridiculous little spring in his step. You’re fairly certain Merrick is going to make him pay for that later.

“So,” you say, your heart suddenly ricocheting off of your ribcage before it settles back into place. “You… You glow?” You have to fight not to laugh, though Merrick notices straight off. His eyes narrow before he sucks a deep breath in through his mouth.

He tries, twice, to say something, but ends up shaking his head and closing his eyes, breathing out through his nose. “Apparently,” he finally settles on. “You make me happy, make me- forget myself. Or forget everything else. I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again, but I’ll be more conscious of it.”

“Is that a normal thing?” You can’t help asking, laughing quietly when his shoulders slump.

“For my sake, I hope it isn’t. We should go though. I believe Gar is finishing up.” He nods his head in Gar’s direction, but you don’t even look towards your friend. Your eyes are caught on the collar of Merrick’s shirt, replaying everything Gar had confessed to earlier in the car.

“Gar doesn’t lie,” you murmur. “You agreed, he can’t have been lying. After everything he’s been through.... Is there any way—”

Merrick presses his lips together until they’re nothing more than a slash across his face. “If what Gar says is the truth, then none of us should have lived the lives we have.” Merrick grits his teeth, hands growing loose in their grip on your arms and nods towards Gar again. “Back in the car. Roran might not be close yet, but it still isn’t safe. The last thing we need is humans with guns seeing us stealing vehicles.”

You have to agree with that, but you still can’t help wondering about it all in the ensuing silence. Gar worked as a Guard in the Court of Land for the entirety of his adult life. He refused the Queen’s direct orders to kill a disobeying gardener, but... The Fae aren’t supposed to be able to disobey their monarchs. After Gar’s confession, he and Merrick had shared a serious, silent conversation with only a look. One you had no hope of deciphering and while you know you can’t actually do anything about Gar’s situation, you can’t stop yourself from worrying about it. You turn it over and over in your mind as the three of you drive away, meager belongings in hand, and time slowly slips away from you. You barely notice when you leave the main roads behind, but when the car pulls to a stop in almost full darkness, you lift your eyes. Gar has parked in the driveway of a rather ornately decorated cabin, surrounded on all sides by tall trees. You glance back down the drive, but all it reveals is more forest. You must be out in the middle of nowhere.

“I thought we were heading to a hotel?” You ask, confused as Gar gets out, grabbing both his bag and your own before you can even think to take hold of it..

“I said I knew how to use the internet, not that I was going to head to a hotel.” He gestures to the surrounding woods, trees shading parts of the cabin from view. “Hotels, or motels even, have too many witnesses. Even if we lock down on any glamour use and I hide my hands and ears?” Gar makes one pointed look Merrick’s way, eyes roving from his face, to the way he carries himself. Both of them have always been lovely, and Gar definitely has his fair share of admirers—Em comes immediately to mind—but Merrick?

With his fair curls, and the utter disdain he directs at just about everyone who shows him attention that he doesn’t want, he’s always stood out. Never mind that he hides his ears, and the great tattoos of his wings, you were hardly the only person who had been unable to tear your eyes away from him every time you met. You’re still not sure how he managed to hide so much of himself for so long, especially after all the times he’d hung out on camping trips or went out for drinks. Yeah. Gar doesn’t have to say anything else. No matter where you go, there is going to be someone who won’t be able to forget Merrick’s face, or demeanor, or both.

You glance back at the cabin as Gar passes you by. The clean windows and paved driveway, and the careful tending done to the planter boxes hanging from the windows...

“Did you book us an Airbnb?” You can’t help asking, rushing to keep up when Merrick starts walking to the door too.

Gar throws a sweet grin over his shoulder, cheek growing a shade darker with green. “Two bedrooms and everything. I’m going to leave you and Merrick to get settled,” he teases. You would like to kick him for that one, but you can’t actually deny that a few moments alone with Merrick will be pleasant. “And I’m going to grab food from a supermarket. I’ll be less... conspicuous by myself,” he says idly, like he’s still thinking everything through. He unlocks the door, not even bothering to set down the bags to do it, and then sweeps inside.

Gar is a whirlwind as he moves through the cabin, turning on lights and dropping your stuff in the small, but cozy main room. He gives you enough time to get through the door, checking out the small windows in the common area and the kitchen, and then turns to leave. He clasps Merrick’s shoulder once, nods his head at both of you, eyes already distant and then he’s gone, back through the still open door. You take a few steps after him, mouth opening to call out a goodbye, but he’s vanished. You blink, confused, because he didn’t even take the car, but then… Well, you knew already that the only reason they hadn’t left town on foot was because of you.

“That was weirdly intentional,” you mutter, quietly closing the door. For a moment, you hesitate, hand over the lock, mind racing. You can’t really ignore the fact that you don’t need any food. They’d brought plenty of things from the apartment in the array of bags that Merrick had brought in. Maybe he’s really just trying to give you and Merrick some time on your own? And he has the key, you remind yourself, finally locking the door. You turn, quietly wandering around the little cabin you’re going to be staying at for… who knows how long. You can feel Merrick’s eyes on you, but he doesn’t actually follow until you head into one of the bedrooms. Both of the rooms are medium sized, clean, and better than any standard motel, that’s for sure. The decor all has some kind of woodsy theme that makes you wrinkle your nose, but Gar might appreciate the irony of it, what with his tree affinity. We’re not X-Men, slips back into your head, making you smile wryly.

Merrick slides past you, groaning as he flops backwards onto the bed. His hat slips off of his head as he bounces, his curls falling in a picture perfect halo around his face. With no one else around, you’re not sure if his hair looks so bright because you don’t normally see him with his hat off, or if it’s because he’s beginning to glow in your presence. You bite back a smile.

“How are.. How are you holding up?” You ask, sitting so you can kick the knock-off keds down on the floor. You stay where you are at the lower corner, but after a moment you pull your legs up to cross them, noticing the storage space under the bed. The place is definitely lovely, but it’s still out in the middle of nowhere, and unknown. You wonder if anyone ever gets over wondering if something is underneath the bed, but you can’t bring yourself to get down and check. The momentary image of Roran waiting underneath has your heart speeding, though you’re not sure whether you want to laugh or shiver.

Merrick swallows, but summons up a smile for you. It’s not brilliant or blinding, but it’s real, if soft. “To be honest, I’m not actually sure?”

“You don’t have to know, Merrick.” You reach out, tugging a wrinkle in his trousers, just under his knee. “I’m asking if you need to talk about things. If you don’t want to—” You stop when Merrick shakes his head.

“I’m… I’m happy, because of you. Because you found out about me and you didn’t run. And... I’m hurting because of Roran.” His cheeks tense, which likely means he’s gritting his teeth again, trying to puzzle his way through the labyrinth of his own feelings.

You take a deep breath, unsure as to whether he’s going to be okay with the line of questioning you’re opening up, but you have to do it. It’s not even that you have to know, but Merrick very much looks like he needs to talk about it. He might not get another chance, not without Gar around, and you’re not sure he wants to do that, not after what you heard in the car.

“...Is Roran your ex?” You ask, fully expecting a wince and closed eyes, or for him to immediately look away.

“Are you going to be surprising me like this forever?” He asks instead, laughing softly. You give him a small smile, but otherwise continue to stare. Human or Faerie, the question he asked isn’t actually one you can answer and keep truthful, and besides, you’re trying to get him to open up. You don’t want to push, or have him change the subject so quickly. “Not exactly,” he finally says.

“Merrick,” you softly chastise, because you know there’s more to the both of them than that. He sighs, brows furrowing, but finally begins to speak.

“We made no declarations. Roran had plenty of other lovers and I didn’t mind. I—I was never much interested in anyone, but I didn’t mind passing the time with Roran. My interest in him was sparse, at best.” He frowns, like he realizes how that sounds and pauses to lick his lips. “I cared about his well being and I enjoyed his company, especially as a friend, but my interest lay in my work. In fulfilling the orders the King gave me, and I never felt like I had anything left to truly give him. Not really.”

“Did he.. Think you were exclusive to him?” You ask, drawing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You can’t deny that it’s an awkward feeling, knowing this. But Merrick has been by your side for a year, and you knew he was keeping secrets. It doesn’t change your feelings, however strange it might be, finding out that he’s been with others, but the knowledge does put a different spin on what you witnessed back at your house. “I’m not condoning anything, his actions or—I’m just trying to understand where he’s coming from,” you rush to say, when Merrick looks slightly pained.

“Not exactly,” he says again, and truly grimaces when the words pass his lips. “He asked for my love, asked for any scrap of attention I would be willing to throw his way, and for a time it was easy. I always liked him, and giving him that much had never really been a problem. But before I came, I told him I wasn’t his. That my heart was my own.” Merrick sits up, and he looks torn, staring down at his empty hands. “I told him I wouldn’t die, and that, I think, is what he was initially angry about. He thought I’d died, and I never made the effort to correct that worry.”

That you might be able to understand.

“Okay, that I might agree with,” you tell him softly, shrugging when he looks at you, dark eyes wide. “Do Faeries apologize? Because leaving someone who cares for you is one thing, but letting them think you’re dead is… a little much. Granted, we’ve been raised very differently, so I can’t actually speak for him.”

“I, yeah, I do owe him that,” Merrick agrees. “But my heart—it’s yours, now,” he tells you, voice low and fierce, and desperately earnest. His eyes search your face, trace your slowly smiling mouth and you’re suddenly very thankful that Gar decided to vacate the premises for a while. “I can’t change how I feel, though by Air I tried at first. But I don’t want to change how I feel about you. No matter what happens with Gar, or with Roran, I want to stay with you, if you’ll let me.”

Your chest feels as if it’s all tangled up in knots, nerves and worry utterly strangled by the sudden tidal wave of softness. “I want you to stay, too,” you say, eyes drifting to the leaf pattern on the bedspread. “Even if you do change your feelings, you’ve been in my life for a year now, and.. I see you in the future, you know? If it’s with me, then great, if it’s as friends? I can see that t-”

Merrick leans in close, your name on his lips, interrupting the awkward string of words spilling out of you. “Then I won’t be leaving,” he assures you, his curls crushed against your forehead. “Not for any of them. I can’t turn away from this, and I have to help Gar, but I won’t leave,” he whispers, watching you closely, like he’s afraid you might disagree. You reel him in for a kiss instead, trying not to let your eyes linger on the way his lips tremble, but then he’s smiling against your mouth.

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

It almost doesn’t make sense, knowing you’d spent hours in your bed with Merrick, exploring each other, mapping out every inch of each other’s flesh with fingers and mouths… And all of that was less than two days ago. While it had been happening, it had felt like the only thing that mattered, like you’d never forget it. Your heartbeat had been so loud in your head that you could barely hear yourself think beyond the next touch, the next kiss.

After the day you’ve had, after everything that’s happened since you forced yourself to grab a few hours of rest in a stolen car, part of you wonders if there aren’t things you imagined. Did Merrick really like it when you touched his ears, or bit at the lobe of them and traced the cartilage with your tongue? Had he really made you fall to pieces so quickly on the kitchen counter, or had it only seemed that way, with adrenaline and hope and lust running high?

The first touch of his fingertips under your shirt is electric though, and the callous on his thumb catching at your hip makes you shiver. Regardless of the time you’d taken before, or how fast or slow things had actually happened, the chemistry between you is a heady thing.

Merrick’s kiss is slow, and more than just the press or slide of his lips on yours. It’s the pause before he kisses you, the beat as he pulls away, mouth parted, his breath soft against your skin before his tongue touches your lower lip, and then his mouth closes, sucking slightly, like he’s trying to taste a drop of honey that he knows was left behind.

How are you supposed to keep quiet with such attention focused on you?

The first soft gasp has Merrick’s hands skimming over your middle, hand coming to rest on your heart, to gauge your pulse before he tries to get your shirt off of you. Part of you thinks you should tease him and struggle with the material—he’s always trying to undress you first, isn’t he? But you’re too eager to get his mouth back on yours, to curl your hand into the curls at the base of his skull and pull, exposing his throat for kissing.

As soon as you do that, as soon as your fingers are tangled in his hair, Merrick glows. You don’t bother to point it out, you don’t really want to halt things at the moment, but you bite at his neck, wondering if any marks you leave will glow too.

His eyes close when you pull a little harder, his cheeks grow ruddy with color and then you let your own eyes unfocus, losing yourself in the feeling of him under your hands. He runs just slightly warmer, though you’re certain that could be your imagination. The heat of him against you feels wonderful though, and leaves you wanting more. You slide a hand along his back, reveling in the change of temperature, and sigh when he shudders under the sweep of your fingers.

He doesn’t pull away—his breath is coming faster as you suck at the skin of his neck—but Merrick’s hips shift, his legs settling to either side of yours and then he’s groaning, erection rutting against your thigh, trapped in his trousers.

“Harder,” he whispers, and for a second you’re not sure whether he means you to use your mouth or the hand in his hair, but a twitch of your wrist answers that question. His mouth falls open and you have to release his neck so you can lean back and take in the sight. It’s—It’s intoxicating, seeing how much you affect him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen someone so eager for you, and then his eyes open, wonderfully dark underneath those pale lashes and arousal grows so strong in you that the ache of it is painful.

“What do you want?” You ask, voice low as his eyes trace your lips. You have to ask, because you’re not sure what you want, if you want to feel his mouth again, or use your mouth on him, or maybe-

“Everything,” he whispers, because it’s the truth, and that’s all that matters to him.

You huff out a laugh, knowing you probably look punch-drunk off of his kisses, off of touching him at all. “Merrick, as wonderful as that sounds, we’re going to have to narrow things down.”

He barely looks sheepish, though you catch his eyes darting to your bag near the side of the bed.

“I packed… Things?” He says, and his tone is so unsure that you want to pat his cheek.

“I could have sworn I looked through that bag,” you mutter, fighting a smile, but Merrick sits up on your thighs and you let him go. He looks, well—He already has sex hair, with the way you’ve been yanking at it, and neither of you have actually gotten there. Gar is going to have a field day when he comes back.

“Did you check the side pocket?” Merrick asks, and he leans over the edge of the bed, pants riding low on his hips and exposing the dimple on his lower back. He tugs at the zipper, fumbling about and comes up with lube and condoms, and a handful of other things you’d kept in your bedside drawer.

“Are all faeries this prepared?” You tease, smiling widely when he rolls his eyes. “Or am I just terribly lucky?”

He doesn’t respond, just hops off of you—and you can feel the difference now, as it’s cold without him—and pulls off his clothes like he has no sense of modesty. It’s always a rush, seeing him bare this way. The tattoos of his wings are still impressive, catching your eye and drawing your gaze over his shoulder and bicep as he turns to face you fully, but then your eyes lower and your breath quickens.

“I can’t get enough of this,” Merrick murmurs and he looks so damned earnest, sitting down next to you on the bed and leaning over you so he can brace himself up on his forearms. “The way you look at me. For so long I thought I was imagining things-” And you do laugh when he says that.

“You thought you were?” You ask, reaching up to trace a fingertip over his cheekbone and down his jaw. “At first, I thought I had a chance, but then we were friends and... Honestly, I was sure you didn’t like anyone. I watched you reject person after person and was convinced that I’d only ever fooled myself. The other day when you joked about sharing a bed? I thought—”

Merrick frowns. “I was trying to be sly,” he murmurs, wincing when you raise an eyebrow.

“It came across as a joke, after the way I’ve seen you talk to other people.”

“I didn’t mean it like-”

“I know,” you hasten to say, slipping your arms around him and tugging at his shoulders, wanting him closer. “I know that now,” you correct, pleased when he’s nose to nose with you. “But I didn’t then. That’s why I grabbed your hat and reacted like I did. Every time you said something even remotely similar, I convinced myself that I was only hearing what I wanted to hear. I was only hearing what I thought about when you weren’t around.”

“You fantasized about me?” Merrick asks, and he sounds entirely too gleeful about that.

“...Did you fantasize about me?” You shoot back, knowing it will likely shut him up.

“Yes,” he says instead, completely surprising you. “I… I felt like I shouldn’t have, but I kept thinking about the way you talked to me and I was lonely and—It was more than once,” he blurts with a sigh, and he looks like he hates the fact that he has to tell the truth.

You just grin at him, feeling ridiculous, until Merrick shakes his head, and gets back to kissing you. Apparently he’s decided the time for talk is over. Or at least, talking about this subject is over. His kisses trail down your neck though, which you suppose means he’s decided on what he wants, and you can’t really complain.

He uses tongue and teeth as he moves down your body, hands kneading gently at your thighs, stroking with fingertips and pressing with his thumbs. He lingers at your hip for a moment, sucking kisses into the skin there that you know are going to ache later, and then his hand is on you.

He definitely remembers everything he’d learned back at your place. He knows how to stroke, how much pressure to use, how to curl his fingers just so, and your thighs are starting to tense and his mouth isn’t even on you yet.

“Merrick,” you murmur, clutching at the blankets under your hands. You want to watch him, want to see his pink tongue lick—but you’re mildly distracted by that glow of his, shimmering softly over the walls. The light is on in the room, ceiling fixture bright, but there’s movement to the light on the walls that matches the rolling of his shoulders and the arch of his back.

His mouth closes over you, tongue flicking.

“Fuck,” you say immediately, tensing when he pauses, waiting for you to relax under his touch. He doesn’t use his teeth here, that’s for sure. There’s just his tongue at first, hot and wet, and his breath, soft against your bare skin. Then Merrick sucks until his cheeks have hollowed out, fingers curling just right and you have to bite your bottom lip, using the pain of your own teeth in your flesh to try and keep yourself from thrusting your hips up into his face.

He pulls off of you with a wet pop, leaving you whimpering and can’t help the little smirk he directs your way before he speaks. “You don’t have to be gentle with me,” he tells you, smirk growing a little wider. “You’ve seen some of what we can do. You can let go,” he assures you, hand still working you over, tongue sliding over his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of you on his own skin.

“Sure,” you say shakily, and then your eyes are nearly rolling into the back of your head as his mouth closes over you again. You’re fairly certain he’s doing it just to leave you breathless, to leave you speechless. “I’ll just—just go to town,” you mutter, rolling your hips, but only just. “You could probably, uh, could just pick me-”

Merrick stops using his hand on you, hooks his arms underneath your legs and lifts your hips as he kneels on the bed. He curls his arms around you to hold you in place, legs hanging over his shoulders, and rolls his tongue over you before he starts sucking again, making soft noises that are driving you crazy.

“Oh, oh, fuck, you’re going to-” Your hands are totally tangled in the blankets now, having dragged them with you as he lifted you partially off the bed. You’re going to lose it if he keeps up with this, blood rushing towards your head, leaving your face feeling hot and your thighs shaking against his ears.

You shout as you come, trying to arch your back, to get closer to his mouth and pull away from it, all at once, but Merrick is holding you too tightly. After a moment it gets to be too much and you’re gasping, panting and reaching out to try and slap at his knee, though you can’t quite reach. “Enough,” you say once, and Merrick slows, but he doesn’t pull his mouth off of you until you wail the word. For a second you think he’ll just drop your overstimulated self back to the bed, but Merrick is more careful than that. He lowers you down, revealing his messy face and heavy lidded eyes. His cock slides over your most sensitive parts as he sets your ass in his lap and carefully takes your legs off of his shoulders. Your calves feel like they won’t hold you up for a week.

“I’m going to die,” you say, all dramatics, and then Merrick is chuckling, wiping at his lips.

“I hardly think you will,” he says, confident in his words. “But if it was too much, I have no problem ceasing while we’re ahead. Soon enough, Gar will be back and...” He licks his lips again, frowning slightly as something occurs to him. “Did I glow, like Gar said earlier?” You can’t help laughing, but that only makes you move against him, leaving the both of you making soft, shocked noises.

“Would you—would you like to find out?” You ask, breathless when he presses himself between your legs.

Merrick hesitates, nearly frowning for a moment before he settles on an easy, slightly awkward grin.

“It’s a bit of a toss up,” he explains, eyes tracing you from head to toe. He lingers on the spots he’s kissed, on the way your mouth is parted, breath still coming heavy, like it’s being drawn up from the absolute depths of your lungs. “I want to do the things that could potentially lead to me glowing.” He can’t seem to stop himself from rolling his hips, from rutting in between your thighs and leaving himself trembling at the touch. “But do I want to know if I’m actually making a fool of myself?”

“Making a fool of yourself?” You repeat, laughing. “Is that what happens when faeries glow during sex? They’re considered fools?”

“Maybe not fools,” he amends, looking a little awkward as he tucks a few stray curls behind his pointed ears. “But… Horribly transparent. You can see how much you affect me, and leaving our emotions laid bare?”

That you can understand. Granted, you don’t think you’ll ever mind the fact that he shows just how much he wants you. That he’s incapable of hiding how he feels when you touch him. You desperately want to kiss him again, to return the gesture. You might not be able to glow, but you’re fairly certain anyone looking at you can see how you feel—especially now that you’ve both laid it all out in the open.

“Come here,” you urge, crooking a single finger.

He pauses, dark eyes darting between you and himself, and you see the thought cross his mind. He could try and press inside you, he wants it, but—Merrick leans over you, arm stretching until he’s braced himself next to your shoulder, as close as he can get without being inside you. His hair falls back into his face.

“Kiss me,” you say, stroking your hands along his sides and up and over his shoulders. You have to concentrate, keep yourself from getting distracted when the pads of your fingertips catch on the wing tattoos. They have such texture, and one day you’d love to trace those lines with your tongue, if he’ll let you.

Merrick falls back into kissing you like he’s never left. Tilts his head and slots his mouth along your lips, soft at first and then his tongue finds yours, sweet and warm. He starts grinding against you, making you shudder underneath him because you’re still oversensitive. You’re not sure you have the energy in you for more than lying here, for hooking your ankles behind his back as he works himself to completion inside you, but just the thought of that has your pulse speeding again.

When he pulls away from the kiss to breathe, you reach up to try and adjust his hair, tucking the curls back once more, but you don’t actually succeed in anything other than making it look messier.

“Lube,” you remind him, when he seems plenty content to simply stare at your face, blinking slowly. He jumps at that, snatching at the pile of things he’d left on the bed when he’d stripped off his clothes and shakes his head once he has the bottle open, tilted over to spill the gel into his palm.

“So you want to witness my shame?” He asks archly, and that tone of his is all an act. You wonder how many times you fell for it, how many times he said exactly what you were thinking and you wrote it off, purely because of his tone and-

No. There’s no need to dwell on it, not now.

“I have witnessed it,” you say instead, breathing out slowly as you reach for his hand. You slide your fingers through the lube and then reach down to prep yourself, watching his face all the while.

Merrick looks gutted. He swallows, eyes intent on your hand, on your fingers, stroking and pressing into you and he snaps the lube bottle closed. He tosses it over the edge of the bed, pressing himself close again so your hand brushes against him every time your fingers move.

“At some point,” he says hoarsely, and your eyes get caught on the gel starting to drip over the edges of his hands. “I would like to watch this. Just this, but—” He glances at you, gauging your reaction and joins in. You’re shaking again, watching his face, feeling his fingers move in tandem with yours, but the feeling is a lot and eventually you let him take over. Merrick breathes out when you pull your hand away, eyes flicking up to meet yours, and licks his lips. “We’re on a bit of a deadline,” he murmurs, looking just a slight bit disappointed by that fact.

“Then hurry up,” you tease him, though it’s a little hard when he’s touching you this way. When he’s making your thighs tremble all over again. “I want you at least once before we get interrupted.” Before Gar gets back, before you have to crash for the night because you’re exhausted, before—Before you have to get up tomorrow, and possibly get back on the road to who knows where. This would be the absolute worst time for Roran to find us, crosses your mind and your heart speeds for all the wrong reasons.

“Noted,” Merrick says, breaking through your thoughts with a smug smile as he removes his fingers. The first stroke of him against you has you clenching your hands in the blankets again. Just the wet slide of his cock against you is enough: lust sweeps over you in a tidal wave, your thighs shifting like they’re trying to spread, even though they’re open already.

When he takes himself in hand though, when he finally presses into you? You lose a few moments, just enjoying the heat of him, the feeling of fullness.

Then he’s glowing.

There’s no hiding it from him this time. His eyes aren’t closed, and his face isn’t pressed into your neck, or your body, intent on bringing you pleasure first. Merrick blinks when the glow is cast on the walls. It’s not enough to blaze through the window and the closed blinds, but he sees it now, and his face turns an absolutely lovely shade of pink.

He doesn’t stop his movements, or try to stop himself from glowing. He takes a couple quick breaths and thrusts into you, gasping when you tighten around him reflexively.

Merrick doesn’t do things by halves. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t pound into you, chasing after his own pleasure, he builds it between you. It takes long enough that when you realize time has passed, you’re fairly sure that Gar must have returned, but—But Merrick’s hands are sliding over your body and his hips are pressed against the back of your thighs, and you don’t have time to think.

He whispers your name and his eyes are so heavy lidded, he looks like he could fall asleep where he is. You think the only reason his eyes are even open is to watch you, to see the look on your face every time he pulls back, only to slide back in, leaving you languid and terribly warm. You’re going to ache tomorrow.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you see that Merrick is clenching his jaw, trying to keep the slow rhythm he’s got going, but his hips are stuttering. You tug him close, angling your legs until they’re tight against his ass and he groans, being so deep inside you.

“I want you,” you murmur. “Merrick, I-” But then he’s nearly shouting as he comes, burying his face in your shoulder as he shakes apart and you can hear the front door closing. Merrick doesn’t bother trying to quiet himself, just pants against you until he’s finished, until he can sit up on his own. The smile he directs your way is mildly embarrassed, but mostly smug, especially when his pulling out leaves your legs shaking.

“Have you decided yet?” You hear from the main room of the cabin, followed by bags being set on the small kitchen counter.

You raise your eyebrows, wondering what exactly Gar means. Merrick’s shoulders tense up a little though, and you think back to what was happening before the two of you started this much needed romp in the sheets.

“...What does he mean?” You finally ask, sitting up slowly and glancing around the room. You’re going to need to clean up, and never have you wished more that Faerie glamour or magic came with a quick spell for messes. A quick snap of your fingers or the wiggle of a nose would be quiet and unobtrusive right now.

“Give us a moment,” Merrick calls out and gets off of the bed with a sigh. “I’ll—Let me help you, first,” he says, focusing on you after a moment. “Once we’re both clean we can discuss it.”

Gar gives you both the asked for privacy. He retreats to the other empty room so you and Merrick can dart into the shower. It’s barely big enough for the both of you, but the water is hot, and the pressure isn’t horrible. Once you’re both cleaned up and clothed, all three of you find yourselves back in the main room, sitting around the small pot belly stove, a fire crackling inside of it.

“So?” You find yourself asking, when neither of them make a move to fill the silence. “What are we deciding?”

“Not we,” Gar says, lips twisting wryly. “Just Merrick.”

“What is Merrick deciding then?” You ask, exasperated with the non-answers. You know you’re going to have to deal with this regularly, now that you know what both of them are, but it’s still irksome.

“I need to decide what I should do about Roran,” Merrick finally murmurs, letting you take his hand when you reach for it. “We always have the option to end his life, but I would rather not,” he says, directing his stare straight at Gar. “I want to convince him.”

Gar stares at Merrick, resigned, like he’d never expected another answer. Maybe he hadn’t. According to Faerie standards, or maybe just Gar’s standards, Merrick is apparently easy to read. “Then you’re going to have to figure out a way to draw him in that doesn’t involve cutting my head from my shoulders. He won’t be lured in by us just standing around again either. He’s going to be eager to get us apart, to take you hostage, if need be,” Gar reminds you, with a tip of his head in your direction.

“If he finds me first-”

“I’m going to con—” Merrick starts, and then he’s knocked to the floor, with Gar straddling his prone body and holding a shaking hand over his mouth. You’re on your feet with a shout.

“Don’t make promises you’re not sure you can keep,” Gar bites out. Your heart is racing. You didn’t even see him move, he was just—there. “Don’t leave yourself open to even the possibility of lies. You know better, Merrick. You know better. Don’t let sentimentality cloud your decisions.”

“How about we calm down?” You ask, knowing you likely sound a little silly. You know they can’t lie, you know it does something to them, but it’s- You hadn’t quite realized it was all so serious. The lying.

Gar gets off of Merrick and points a finger directly at you, still staring at his friend. “You have someone else to worry about now. Someone who cares, deeply. You don’t know if you’re going to convince Roran. Try, sure. But don’t—” Gar cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath, letting it out very, very slowly.

“I’m not tired,” he says after a moment. “But you two probably are. Get some rest, I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

That, more than anything else in the last hour, feels utterly surreal. Keeping watch is something that happens in fantasy novels, out in the wilderness, waiting for bandits. You don’t keep watch in an Airbnb, in modern times, waiting to see if a lonely Fae assassin shows up on the doorstep.

“That’s a good idea,” Merrick murmurs, and lets you pull him up to his feet. He still clasps his hand on Gar’s shoulder as he passes, like he doesn’t mind in the slightest that Gar just knocked him to the ground with nary a thought. They’d been close to the fire too, and worry makes the scene play out differently in your head. If Gar had taken one more step forward- You can’t let yourself get angry or defensive about this. They’re faeries and no matter how long you’ve known them, how much they care, you don’t know everything that’s at stake.

“I’ll come back after I grab a few hours rest,” Merrick promises, and escorts you back into the bedroom you’d both claimed as your own. You want to protest, to say you can take the next watch, but even with the Sight now, you’re not sure you would even have a chance of alerting them if someone like Roran showed up. What you’d witnessed in the square, and what you’d seen just now in the main room spelled it out all too well: Human eyes simply can’t move fast enough.

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

#exophilia #faerie boyfriend #fae boyfriend #faerie x reader #fairy boyfriend #male faerie x reader #d.darling writes

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orbitluke · 4 years ago

Text

your hair falling into place like dominoes - steve harrington

Summary: in a moment of boldness, Steve buys hair dye, causing your typical sleepover filled with movies and snacks to have a rather fun twist. (feat Robin because I love her <3)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (I don’t think I use any specific pronouns! Please correct me if I am wrong!)

Warnings: N/A

Category: fluff, softboyfriend!steve

Word Count: 2643

Authors Note: I’m a bit scared about posting this because I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write! I also couldn’t think of a title, so you can have a taylor swift lyric instead that kinda relates lol. I appreciate feedback and I hope that this is somewhat ok!

_______

Steve’s shift at Family Video had ended an hour ago. Rather than going straight home, he decided to walk downtown for a bit. He needed to buy a few things for later. You and Robin were heading over to his for a sleepover. An annual occurrence that had taken place since you and Steve had become friends with Robin whilst working at Scoops Ahoy.

He found himself walking towards Melvald’s General Store. He figured he could pick up a few snacks for you all. Steve greeted Joyce working behind the cash register, with a small wave; seeing her after a long gruelling shift made his night slightly better. There appeared to be a few customers lingering in each section. He took note of the reduced banners sprawled across the ceiling. It seemed even with Starcourt Mall gone the small store was still struggling. He made his way through each aisle, picking out each item he needed for tonight. He pulled his jacket a little tighter as he entered the frozen section. He picked up two pints of ice cream for you and Robin, smiling to himself as he recalled your previous sleepover, where you overindulged on ice-cream and laid across his sofa, groaning at how sick you felt. He took his time walking through the aisles, mentally checking off each item on his list. He wanted everything to be perfect. It had been a while since he spent time with you and Robin as a trio. He missed observing you and Robin stretched out over his couch, eat popcorn, and judge the characters on screen for their actions, however as he had picked up some extra shift at Family Video, your annual sleepovers had been pushed back. Steve’s gaze trailed along the aisles and towards the large clock that hung above the shelves. It was only 6:30 PM; he still had a while before you and Robin were meant to arrive at his house. You had spent the day at Hawkins library catching up on work you had missed. Steve’s parents were away on yet another business trip meaning he did not have to worry about any inappropriate interactions between them if they arrived early.

He could only imagine the tense conversation.

He ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly, thinking once more, what could he have forgotten. His hand stilled in recollection as he remembered he needed to buy more hairspray. Despite using it less frequently, Steve still liked to have a bottle on hand. As he made his way through the hair care aisle, he let his eyes flicker over the different products, smirking to himself when he saw the overpriced shampoo you insisted on buying, claiming it made your hair just an ounce softer. It seemed Steve was not the only one with a haircare clutch. Without even thinking, Steve grabbed a bottle telling himself he could keep it at his place just in case you needed it. A part of him knew he would find himself using it. The scent of your shampoo brought him closer to you and filled him with an immense comfort he had never felt before. His cheeks reddened as he thought back to how he had purposely sprayed your perfume on his jacket so he could have a reminder of you. He shook his head at the thought, grabbing the canister of hairspray he used, however, accidentally knocking over a bottle of hair dye in the process. Fumbling over his feet, Steve tried to balance his collection of snacks in his hand. He unexpectedly dropped a packet of cookies, letting out a quiet string of profanities. Managing to shift his weight, he picked up the two items with ease, thankful he did not drop anything else in the process. Steve inspected the bottle closely. Burgundy Red Hair Dye printed out in bold lettering. The bottle seemed familiar, then Steve remembered back to last Autumn, where you excitedly came over before the Fall Dance, holding this bottle. You insisted on dying your hair so you could match the Fall decorations. He gleamed at your excitement. Steve thought you were so cool, always pulling off different colours. He wanted to try. He thought for a moment and decided he was buying it. Perhaps knocking the bottle over was a sign to do something he considered drastic to his hair. Steve was a perfectionist when it came to his hair. He would spend a good half-hour every day ensuring each curl laid perfectly. A part of him believed that his hair was the only reason why people liked him. Doing something different was met with great unease. He always wanted to experiment with his hair. Admittedly he relied on his hair a lot for his self-worth and was extremely reluctant to change it. He vividly remembers his cheeks staining pink as his dad made fun of him for using a large amount of hairspray. However, you had always encouraged him to do whatever makes him comfortable.

Steve slowly started experimenting with his hair, parting it differently, even allowing his natural curls to flourish. Something you admired. He was certain at the start of your relationship, you were only dating him because of his hair. It was silly thinking that, but the small ounce of unease gnawing at his brain told him otherwise. He believed he didn’t have anything discernible about himself, but you showed him otherwise. Admittedly Steve merely wished he were as confident as you, especially when it came to changing your hair. Steve admired how you experimented with your hair, often switching it up, claiming you were bored with your appearance. Steve swore you would suit any colour. Steve merely wished he had the guts to do the same. There was a looming judgement from his dad who would make snide remarks whenever he was around. It made Steve feel uneasy, but he still followed through with making these small changes to his hair. It was different but good. His decision was set in stone as he placed the dye onto his pile of miscellaneous food and made his way over to Joyce, exchanging pleasantries and ringing up his total.

***

As Steve pulled up to the driveway, he was made aware of how long his little shopping trip had taken, seeing two figures sat on his porch and two bicycles ditched on his drive. He found himself smiling, remembering Robin and you declaring your distaste for learning to drive. Instead, you insisted that you were both happy riding your bikes or stealing rides from Steve whenever he was free.

"Hurry up Harrington I need to piss," shouted Robin, uncrossing her legs so she could stand.

Steve shook his head at Robin, rolling his eyes mockingly.

“Gimmie a sec!” he responded as he stepped out of his car.

Steve shifted the grocery bags, so he could reach his house keys that were in his pocket. He felt a pair of hands steadily brush his lower back and grab one of the bags, preventing him from dropping it.

“Thanks,” he smiled, leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"No problem, my love."

He unlocked his front door, barely able to say another word before Robin bolted past him and down the hall towards the bathroom.

"She chugged three ice coffees earlier. She insisted it would help her study.”

Steve grinned at your words, shaking his head. That sounded like Robin.

He tried to take the groceries back off you, but you pulled the bag back out of his reach.

“You go in, I have got this bag." You placed the bags on the kitchen counter just as Robin returned, wiping her hands on her jean-clad thighs.

“You know there’s a towel in the bathroom,” you laughed. Robin shrugged at your words.

“Ooh, what did you get?” she leant forwards against the counter and began picking out the items one by one. She nodded her head in approval at the assortment of snacks Steve had brought, spreading them out on the counter so you could see.

“Wait, what is this-” Robin was unable to finish her sentence as Steve snatched the bottle out of her hand.

“Hey!” Steve felt his cheeks redden. “It’s nothing. Let’s put everything away.”

“Awh C’mon Steve, what is it?” Unwrapping his hand, Steve gradually revealed the bottle, causing you to let out an excited yell.

“Finally!”

His cheeks reddened at your words.

“You’re finally doing something to that mop!” Robin grinned, reaching up to ruffle Steve’s hair. “I’m not sure yet,” he shrugged, placing the bottle on the counter suddenly insecure.

“No, do it!” you encouraged, “you’ll look great! I’ll help you if you want.”

His heart warmed at your words.

“Really?”

“Yes!” You grinned already ushering the duo upstairs towards Steve’s other bathroom.

Unboxing the dye, Steve furrowed his brows at the instructions before asking, “Where do we start?”

You snatched them off Steve, throwing them into the sink, insisting you did not need them. You were practically a professional after all. He was ready to protest, but you shushed him by placing a finger against his lips, causing Robin to laugh at your interaction. You pulled out the dye and developer before pausing.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, raising his brows with panic.

“I need some Vaseline to line your head. Don’t wanna stain your skin,” you murmur, going over to the cabinet under his sink, rummaging through it.

“Aha!” you shouted in triumph.

"Here you go," you beam, gently opening the tub and caressing his forehead with the product, finishing by squeezing his cheek.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in protest, but secretly enjoying your playful actions.

"What can I do?" asked Robin, leaning against the doorframe observing quietly.

"You can go get snacks whilst I work my magic."

"Perfect!"

You tell Steve to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He lets out a playful groan before complying. You then wrap a towel around his shoulders, before mixing the developer and dye, shaking the bottle rapidly. He admired the way you furrowed your brow whilst in deep concentration. It was such a simple act, dying his hair, but Steve knew he would not trust another soul with this.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked, falling serious for a moment. You were aware of how anxious Steve could get, especially when it came to his appearance.

“Absolutely.”

You begin to part Steve’s hair, running your fingers through his hair to ensure it was all covered. Steve found himself relaxing at your touch.

“You’re gonna look so cool.”

“You think?” he quips, lifting his head so he could look at you. His heart fluttering as he watched your movements.

You nod reassuringly as you continue to cover his hair. Steve smiles as you begin to hum a familiar tune. It felt so domestic sitting here whilst you did this for him. It was moments like this Steve treasured and kept with him whenever he felt down.

“I love you,” Steve states, lifting his hand so he could pause your actions momentarily.

You glance down at him fondly, your heart racing at his words. No matter how many times you said those words to one another, it always felt like the first time. You reached down interlocking your free hand with his, squeezing gently as if uttering the words back. A silent gesture acknowledged by you both.

“Oh fuck!”

A clatter sounded through the room, causing you to jump back and release Steve’s hand. Looking over your shoulder, Robin stood by the door, hunched over as she tried balancing the snacks. A single can of Coke rolling at her feet.

“Sorry!” she gasped, rushing to pick the can up.

“Here Harrington, take a cookie, it’s gonna be a long wait before we see the results.”

“It looks good so far,” she noted whilst moving past you.

“I just need to do the back and then we just wait,” you responded.

Surprisingly, it did not take long. You, Robin, and Steve had settled into his bedroom, an abundance of snacks surrounding you all as you spoke about your day. Robin updated you guys on the girl she was seeing. She spoke about their recent date, laughing at the way she fell whilst roller skating. The blush on her face whilst she spoke about the girl made you smile endlessly. Looking towards Steve, you share a nod, both silently noting your friend's infatuation. You then made your way back into the bathroom, guiding Steve by his shoulders towards the sink so he could lean backwards allowing you to rinse his hair. You detached his showerhead and turned it on, the water rinsing off the dye. Swirls of red, falling down the drain allowing you to note the change in Steve’s hair colour. You took the towel from around him, wrapping it around his head and fluffed his hair making him let out a muffled laugh. You quickly covered his eyes with your hands before he could turn around and see his reflection.

“Not yet!” you squealed, nodding towards Robin, telling her to grab his hair dryer and comb off the counter so you could style his hair properly. She followed your lead, equally anticipating the result.

With one last brush of his hair, you finally allowed Steve to turn and see his reflection.

“What do you think?” Anxiety washes over you, uncertain by Steve’s reaction. He wore a pensive look, no clear indication of how he felt. Both you and Robin watched eagerly trying to gauge his response.

“I kinda hate it.”

“What!” you exclaimed, sharing a look of panic with Robin.

He let out a boisterous laugh at your response.

“Kidding!” he chuckled.

He reaches up and runs a hand through his locks, noting the change in texture and colour. There was only a small change in hue, a deep burgundy colour, but Steve adored it. He felt good. His previous anxieties seemingly vanished as he turned to face you, wrapping you in a warm hug.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, pressing his head in the crook of your neck. You break the embrace, jokingly hitting his chest.

“That wasn’t nice.”

You look up at him closely, noting the way his eyes seem to be somewhat brighter.

“I do look cool though, don’t I?” he laughed playfully.

You hummed in agreement, admiring the way he looked. Crests of light falling through his window, highlighting the darker shades of red lingering in his hair. It was such a small change, but he still looked stunning.

“It will probably wash out in a week,” you note softly, “so we can always do it again if you like.”

“Or” Steve begins, trailing off slightly before gleaming mischievously, “I could dye yours and Robin’s hair.”

“Absolutely not dingus!” Robin protested, holding her hands up in horror.

You pat Steve’s back teasingly whilst also laughing at Robin’s words.

“C’mon let's put a movie on.”

“I’m choosing!” Declared Robin, already making her way out of the bathroom.

Just as you were about to follow, Steve tugged at your hand, halting your movement.

“I mean it,” he begins, “Thank you for doing this. I feel like anyone else would have made fun of me for making this such a big deal, but you,”

He looked down at his feet, almost hesitant with his words.

“You always encourage me. I really do love you.”

Robin leant against the bathroom door, observing your interaction, admiring the way you and Steve acted with one another. She smiled softly to herself, thankful that her two friends loved each other. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she thought you were a cute couple.

“I love you too.” you respond, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Breaking away you smirk,

“Oh, and Steve, thank you for the shampoo.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #reader insert

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theysayitscrazy · 4 years ago

Text

Eliminated

@rebelwrites: FanFic Friday Week 3

Full Metal x Reader

Full Metal has a sister

Inspiration Photo:

Scott “Full Metal” Carter stared at the burning wreck in disbelief. His sister’s 2011 Toyota Corolla was wrapped around a light pole. The body in the driver’s seat was charred beyond recognition after the explosion that engulfed the vehicle in flames.

Bravo stood in a half circle behind him, all silent, while watching the car burn. The fire department was waiting for the accelerant to burn down before putting the vehicle out completely. Then they’d begin their investigation into the crash and explosion before they removed the body from the front seat.

Metal reached for his phone and hit her contact again. He pressed his phone to his ear and listed to it ring and ring and ring before it went to voicemail.

“Hey this is Y/N, leave a message and I’ll call back as soon as possible.”

Metal squeezed the phone and swallowed. This time he left a voicemail. “Y/N, I need you to call me,” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Y/N, please sister. Just please call me.” He was past of caring if Bravo saw him beg.

~*~

Bravo Team is sitting around Metal’s living room, watching Metal pace back and forth. There were no identifiable features on the body in the car. Until the police were able to match the dental records, there was no way of knowing if it was his sister or not.

He tried her cell again. Straight to voicemail.

There was a knock on the front door and Metal’s head snapped up. Ray grabbed the door and greeted the two plain clothed detectives with a nod and invited them in. The two men glanced around the room, taking in Bravo Team sitting around.

“Looking for Scott Carter,” one of the detectives announced.

“You got him,” Metal stopped pacing and nodded at the officer. “Have you identified the body yet?” Metal asked.

The blonde-haired man before him shook his head sadly, “Unfortunately dental records will take several days. But we have been looking into your sister’s background. It looks like the car was reported stolen last night.”

Metal’s heart pounded in his chest, and he reached for his phone again. He called again and growled when it went straight to voicemail.

“We also found a restraining order placed earlier this week against a Dylan Myers,” the dark hair detective stated.

Scott narrowed his eyes on the Detectives. “Her ex,” Metal nodded. “So, what are you saying? Are you suggesting foul play?”

“We believe it’s a real possibility,” the detective nodded solemnly.

Metal felt his blood run cold. Bravo shifted in their seats around the room.

“We’re trying to put together a timeline here,” Blondie continued. “Last week police respond to Y/N’s residence for a domestic violence call. Two days later, Y/N files a restraining order against her ex-boyfriend. Then last night she reports the car stolen. We have reason to believe that the ex-boyfriend is somehow involved. When’s the last time you saw your sister?”

Metal runs a hand over his hat covered hair. “Uh, I’ve been out of the country for a couple days. Maybe Wednesday?” he asked or told. He didn’t even know which at this point.

~*~

You sigh as you pull into the driveway of your brother’s ranch style home. It was modest and quaint. Simple really. It suited Scott perfectly. All he needed and then some.

You saw the unmarked parked on the street the moment you turned down the road. Scott had taught you to always be aware of your surroundings. Your job had taught you to recognize even the most subtle hints to an undercover car. And this one was clearly a mod job, taken out of the impound lot after a mark failed to post bond.

So, detectives were in the house. As was all of Bravo Team, from the looks of all the other vehicles.

You turn off the engine to Harvey’s Aston Martin and slowly climb out of the car. Your legs and feet are aching. You were on your feet in the courthouse all day. You reach over and grab your stilettos and slide them on your feet. The idea of walking into the house, not fully dressed and pristine to greet the Detectives has you straightening your expensive suit and skirt.

A quick pat to make sure your chignon was still pristine, and you strut up the front walk to the house. At least one of the detectives was looking out the window at you.

You open the door, and the room engulfs in cheers.

Scott storms between the two Detectives and push them out of the way to pull you into his arms. “Y/N, Jesus. What the fuck? Why the fuck haven’t you answered my calls? I’ve been calling all day?”

You embrace him, happy to see him, even if he’s trying to squeeze the life out of you. You close your eyes and rest your head against your big brother’s chest. He’s always had a way of calming you down. You take in his rapid heartbeat and breathe in the masculine scent that is all Scott Carter.

“Y/N, where the hell you been?” Scott demanded in a tone that brought back growing up with him. That, I’m older than you, so I know more, tone that grated on your nerves and shot you straight into bitch mode.

You pull away from instantly and snap your eyes to his. Both hands go to your hips, and you can feel Bravo’s eyes on you as you stare down your brother, Clay’s are especially glued to you. “Excuse me?” you demand.

“Y/N, they found your car with a body in it!” Scott shouted. “I watched it burn on the side of the fucking road! So, where the fuck were you? I called you a million fuckin times today!”

You tilt your head to the side and observe your brother for a moment. He is utterly distraught. He honestly believed he lost you today. It rattled you to see your strong and “I was at work…” you begin slowly, know the detectives were right behind you, taking in every word. “I’ve been in the Court Room all day on the Sanderson’s trial. I lost my phone. I think it might have been in my car when it was stolen. I sent you an email this morning.”

Scott stared down at you utterly speechless. That was a first.

“Ma’am,” one of the Detective’s cut in.

You glance away from Scott and look at the blond-haired Detective over your shoulder and raise an eyebrow at him. He was interrupting personal family time. You wait, eyebrow raised, for him to continue.

“Would you mind answering some questions for us?” Blondie continued.

You turn your body to him fully and cross your arms over your chest. “And who might you be?” You give him a stare that would send a lesser man running.

Blondie’s eyes narrow on you slightly, assessing.

Yeah, pretty boy, I’m more than just a pretty face, you think.

“Detective Adam Ruzek and this is my partner, Detective Nick Kincaid,” Blondie introduces.

“I’ll need to see some ID’s,” you hold out your hand expectantly.

Again, blondie, or rather Ruzek, eyes you momentarily. You can see the wariness in his gaze. You hold off a smirk, and wait, hand extended. Kincaid hands you his badge and police ID first, slapping it in your hand while you have a stare off with Ruzek.

You glance down at the ID and nod. “Detective Nicholas Kincaid, badge number 684923,” you drawl out slowly to the roomful of very intelligent Navy SEALS.

You hear Clay’s cough to cover a laugh and have to fight a smirk. You look up at Detective Kincaid and nod in thanks as you hand him back his badge and ID. “You’re the Captain’s son, correct?”

Nick Kincaid looks you over, assessing his opponent now that it was his turn. “That’s right,” he nodded slowly.

You nod thoughtfully. “I’m actually having lunch with him tomorrow,” you explain and cross your arms over your chest again. “He’s a key witness in the Sanderson Trial.”

You watch Detective Kincaid run his eyes over your face, trying to place your face with a memory. You can see the moment recognition dawns in his eyes. “You’re Assistant District Attorney Y/N Carter. The ADA that put away, Sean Calloway. I didn’t know the DA’s office was working the Sanderson Trial,” Kincaid states.

You smirk then. “It’s not. I’ve moved on from the DA’s office. Private sector pays more.” You eye Ruzek, taking in how he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. Studying you. “Your ID please?” you put your hand out expectantly again and tilt your head at him.

There’s a slight glare in his eyes as he watches you, but still reaches for his badge and ID. He places it in your hand, and you ignore him completely as you look down at it. “Detective Adam Ruzek, badge number 796842,” you drawl again to the room.

“Ma’am, we’d like to ask you a couple questions,” Ruzek cuts to the chase as he pulls his badge out of your hands.

You raise eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest again. “Alright Detective,” you eye him contemplatively. Scott shifts behind you, and you can feel the anger radiating off him. He didn’t like this Detective anymore than you did. “How can I help you?”

Before Ruzek could ask anything, you turn to Sonny and give him a soft smile. “Hey Sonny, can you grab me a beer please?”

“Yes ma’am,” Sonny drawls with grin and gets to his feet.

You take the time to survey the rest of Bravo. They’re all nervous smiles for the most part. Not one of them seem to like the vibes the Detectives, namely Ruzek are giving off.

Sonny presses a beer into your hand, and you nod gratefully. You take a swig before you turn back to the Detective. “Your questions?” you ask.

Ruzek looks annoyed. “How about you walk us through your day. Start from last night, when you reported your car was stolen until now.”

You give him a grin and tilt your head to look at him. He was getting flustered, if his slightly red face was anything to go by. Sometimes, it was too easy to rile them up. “I don’t have to do that,” you state, watching the anger simmer under the surface. “You can read about it the report filed last night. I will tell you what I did today,” you smirk slightly, enjoying the torment you were putting the detective through.

You pause and take a pull off the Miller Lite bottle.

“So today?” Ruzek huffs.

Scott shifts behind you, but stays quiet. He knows you can handle yourself.

“I left here at 6 am. I took an Uber to my office downtown, had coffee with my business partner Harvey Specter,” you drawl and eye him steadily. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he grinds his molars. He looks up from his notepad and meets your gaze. “You’re from Chicago,” you state, changing the subject.

“Yes,” Ruzek’s eyes darken as he watches you.

“Worked in Intelligence with Hank Voigt, correct?”

Ruzek shifts and straightens. “Your point?”

“Oh, no point,” you smile. “I did my undergrad at Northwestern. I used to intern at the 21st.”

Ruzek eyes you warily.

“What brings a Chicago boy out here?” When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “Perhaps Voigt’s brand of Old Chicago Policing rubbed off on you,” you accuse. “Perhaps you gotta a little too comfortable and did something even Voigt couldn’t look away from?”

“Or maybe my fiancé’s family lives here, I transferred for her?”

“Maybe,” you nod. “And maybe that police brutality case sitting on my partner’s desk, goes away.”

There was a ripple in the room as every man went completely still.

The threat was loud and clear.

The smirk on your face never wavered. Your head was tilted slightly to the side, your arms were crossed casually over your chest.

You can see Ruzek thinking quickly behind those chocolate eyes. Finally, he straightens and closes his notepad. “So, you took and Uber to your office and had coffee with Harvey Specter,” Ruzek says.

You nod. “We went over notes and met with Captain Kincaid for breakfast. Afterwards, the three of us headed to the Court House. Where I spent the next six hours in court. We broke for lunch. Ate at the food cart in front of the courthouse. Where we ran into District Attorney Jessica Pearson. She’s my old mentor, it was great to see her and catch up. Then I was back in court again for another grueling six hours. But at the end of the day, I won my case and won my clients a glorious seven figure payout.”

Ruzek ground his molars again. “Came straight home?”

“Had dinner with my colleagues, Pier 31,” you name the fanciest steak joint downtown.

“And the car?” Kincaid asks, nodding out the still open front door to the Aston Martin sitting in the driveway.

“Harvey so graciously let me borrow it. He really is such a good friend. I dropped him off at home, and then headed here.”

Ruzek nodded once. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

When both Kincaid and Ruzek are out of the house and down the street, you let down your hair and pull the dress shirt out of your pencil skirt. You don’t even care that Bravo is watching your every move. “That was scary, even for you,” Jason chuckles.

You grin at him and shrug.

You can feel Clay’s eyes on you, burning into your skin as you unbutton your dress shirt to reveal the skintight tank beneath. You pull off the shirt and toss it on a chair, leaving your bare arms covered in beautiful ink on display.

You glance at Clay to see his blatant pursual of your body and ink and smirk. He doesn’t even notice. You look up at your brother.

Scott is not amused. “You laid it on kind thick there,” he points out.

You nod speculatively and shrug a shoulder before you take a long pull from your beer.

Scott reaches out and rubs his thumb over your cheek, grazing your black eye. Even though you’d caked on the make up that morning for court, he could still see it up close. “I wish you would have told me.” He sighs.

You shrug a shoulder. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle myself.”

He nods. “And the problem?” he asks.

“Eliminated,” you reply.

“Good girl,” Scott grins and pulls you into his arms.

“Girl is fuckin scarier than him,” Sonny grumbles.

You grin and glance at Clay. He’s still watching you of course, like you knew he would be, but there’s a hunger blazing in those baby blues that hadn’t been there before.

So, baby boy wants to play with fire? This could be fun.

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neo-culture-taste · 4 years ago

Text

Abeilles au Printemps - Ch 9

Alternate Title: Bees in Spring

Genre: AU, romance, drama, comedy, smut, who’s the daddy

Pairing: NCT x Y/N (fem)

Rating: Mostly mature themes/ language. Smutty chapters will be labeled 🐝.

Word Count: 11500+

For other chapters, see the masterlist.

OMFG. I can’t believe it has been an entire year since we posted the last chapter. 2020 was truly a mess, lmao. We’re SO sorry we made you wait that long! We had everything written and then we started adding and changing stuff to the point where we had to rewrite the entire thing. But it’s here now! And you’re in for a WILD ride. - D

“So is this how the rich and famous live?” commented Yuta as he drove down the wide street, passing various mansions in the neighborhood. “I bet there's a pool in every backyard and everyone owns their own boat.”

“Probably,” you responded weakly. You were too busy trying to pull the skin off from the sides of your fingers. A nasty habit you had since you were younger, which only manifested when you were extremely anxious. You had no reason to be stressed, right? Jaehyun would explain everything and everything would be fine, wouldn’t it?

You motioned for Yuta to make a right at the stop sign. “Are we leaving the neighborhood?” he asked you.

“No, not really,” you answered, forcing yourself to put your hands at your sides so you wouldn't pick at them anymore. “He just owns more land than his neighbors. He likes his privacy.”

“I completely understand. That’s how I would be if I had all this money. I’d even have my own little pond of ducks,” he joked. “They’d be free to walk the grounds and they’d just add to the beautiful and serene scenery that I would curate for my land.”

You rolled your eyes at Yuta before sitting up straighter in your seat. “Speaking of ducks, drive slowly and don’t run over Quackers and Mr. Bill.” Right as you said that, two ducks waddled in front of Yuta’s car, making their way through the iron gates to their pond on the other side.

“He actually has ducks?!”

“Per my request, yes. Our evening walks at the park during the early part of my pregnancy also consisted of feeding the ducks. I enjoyed it so much I joked about him making a pond and having ducks of his own.”

“And so he dug a hole in his yard and purchased you two feathered creatures?!”

You slouched back into your seat. “Five, actually. The other three should be around here somewhere. They came with the ring, the beautiful nursery, and the wall he tore down for my walk in closet.”

Yuta almost slammed on his breaks in shock. “The wall he--Woah, wait he already built you a nursery?”

Sighing heavily, you turned your head to look forlornly at the swaying motion of Mr. Bill's feathery butt as he walked into the distance. “Yeah…”

“And now you want to barge in this man’s house and accuse him of what exactly?” he asked as he pulled to a smooth stop right outside the Jung estate gate. “You said you’d explain on the way, but you haven’t breathed a single word.”

Well, you were confronting Jaehyun about Mark being arrested for a car that supposedly belonged to Jaehyun and not his cousin Taeil being reported stolen, secret photos following the every move of you and your male friends since earlier that day, and the relationship between those photographs and those of Kun cheating while overseas. There was no way you could explain any of that to Yuta in the short amount of time you had between now and seeing Jaehyun.

“It’s complicated,” was all you told him.

“Tch. Complicated,” Yuta clicked his tongue. “You have a giant envelope of evidence you’ve been trying to hide from view since I picked you up. I’m a lawyer, too, remember?”

“Yuta, please.”

“Let me be a voice of reason before you do something you’ll regret." Yuta rested his chin in his palm as he propped his elbow onto his armrest. "You just became his fiancée only what? A week ago? There’s probably a logical explanation--”

“Thanks for the concern Yuta, but I have to do this if I want to stay engaged.”

Yuta ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, and he drummed his fingers of his other hand on the steering wheel while he thought. “I won’t say anything more. But just promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t hesitate to do."

Ha! You couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped you. You leaned over to kiss Yuta on the cheek and gave him a somewhat reassuring smile. “This just might be the day that I do.”

His brows furrowed. “Should I call the cops?” he responded with evident concern in his voice.

You rolled your eyes and proceeded to fish for Jaehyun’s electronic gate key out of your pants pocket. But then...your attention quickly turned to the large iron gate slowly opening on its own.

“I thought this was supposed to be a surprise mission?” Yuta lifted himself away from the armrest and took his foot off the break, then proceeded to pull through the gate towards the front of the mansion.

“It is. I didn’t call beforehand. He is obviously watching us on the monitor in his kitchen. Fucking creep.”

“Y/N! That’s your fiancé you’re talking about!”

You shook your head. “He has to be guilty of something since he’s not coming outside to greet me.”

“Right...” Yuta pulled into the circular driveway in front of the mansion and put the car in park. There was only one other car in the circular driveway and you recognized it to be the same make and model of Jeno’s car. He must have driven straight there after dropping Mark off at your place. No telling what conversations were being had within those walls. You imagined how lucky Mark had been to have Jeno in the right place at the right time after he was pulled over by the police. Was it a coincidence or was it on purpose?

Theories continued to fill your head as your eyes shifted, and they ultimately landed on Jeno’s license plate. “That’s…” You rummaged through your envelope and pulled out the photo of Kun and examined the sticky note attached to it. Doyoung’s scribbles matched the license plate in front of you. “Oh my--“

“Woah, who’s the hot chick with Kun?” Blurted Yuta as he snatched the photo out of your trembling hands.

“Give it back, Yuta!” You screeched in desperation. You tried to grab it from him but he pulled it out of your reach and batted your hands away.

“Where is he, at a resort?” You tried to grab it once more but he swatted you away again. “Why is Yangyang taking photos of this no name?”

"Yuta!" And he blocked you again.

“Why does this sticky note say ‘you don’t know who else he’s watching?'”

"Please!" And again.

“With a license plate number that matches the car in front--” You finally succeeded in snatching the photo from his grip and put it back inside the envelope, then let out a heavy breath, thankful that Yuta had only seen the picture of Kun and not the one with him and his son at the ER. “Y/N you need to tell me what’s going on,” Yuta demanded. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I’m starting to get an idea of what’s happening and I really hope I'm wrong.” You started to ask about his assumptions but decided not to, because you were too afraid to get confirmation for your own thoughts. “But if I’m not,” Yuta continued, “do you want me to come in with you? I won’t say anything, but I’ll be there to support you in this apparent kerfuffle you’re about to have with Jaehyun.” And fight him if he had to. Yuta didn’t care how much Jaehyun's face was worth if he ended up hurting you in any way.

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “No. I have to do this alone. But you can help this pregnant lady out of your car.”

“Suit yourself.” Yuta got out and went around to help you out of his car and straighten you onto your feet.

“Please just stay here. If I’m not out in exactly twenty minutes come and get me?”

“You’re asking me?” No, you weren’t. The inflection at the end of your sentence was because you had just realized how unprepared you were to confront Jaehyun. You were still in your pajamas for crying out loud. All the tension had built up on the way there, and all the questions you had for him began to mix with your feelings for him. You weren’t exactly sure how you were going to pull this off without breaking down.

“No. I’m telling you,” you corrected Yuta.

“Understood.”

Yuta helped you walk up the front steps before turning around and walking back to his car. You tugged on the doorknob and, like you figured, it was unlocked. You slowly opened the door and shut it behind you. The chilly air of the beautifully decorated foyer ran down your spine and left behind a trail of prickly ice crystals. It was eerily quiet. You took a left towards the kitchen and ran your hands across the granite countertop. The same countertop where the homemade cookies he made for you sat on the night you had welcomed him back home. You continued walking and stepped into the living room where the two of you made love countless times on his ridiculously expensive furniture.

Deciding not to continue searching on the first floor, you made your way to his staircase. The last time you walked up those stairs was the day of your baby shower--the day he proposed to you and presented you with a fully furnished nursery, a broken wall, and some gotdamn ducks. You were afraid of what would be waiting for you inside that room this time.

“Okay, little bee. Hold on tight.” You patted your stomach before you gripped the railing, ready to start your ascent. But you hadn’t made it two steps up when Jeno suddenly came flying down the stairs.

“Hey, Ms. Y/N!” He seemed to be in a rush and didn’t even stop to properly greet you. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

“Where’s Jaehyun?” you managed to ask the young man before he made himself scarce.

He stopped in his haste and turned around to face you. “My former employer is in the nursery as you probably already guessed,” he informed you frantically.

You were more than taken aback by his choice of words. “Former employer? Wait, Jeno, what happened?”

“I have to go. The moving van will be here bright and early in the morning, so I have to make sure everything is packed and ready to be moved out of the pool house.”

“He fired you? And kicked you out--”

“I have to go, ma’am. I’m sorry it all had to come down to this. I really enjoyed having you as an acquaintance the past few years. And I’m really sorry about Mark. He wasn’t supposed to get mixed into all of this.”

“Mixed into what, Jeno?” You gripped his arm, stopping him from fleeing your presence. “Please, I have to know.”

Jeno looked you in the eyes and clearly saw the desperation he had already picked up in your voice. Guiltily, he averted his gaze downward, but he suddenly stopped breathing when his eyes landed on the envelope you were holding at your side. He didn't know exactly what was inside your envelope, but he had a pretty strong idea. “I have to go. Please send my love to the baby,” he said and pulled his arm out of your grasp, continuing his hasty retreat through the house.

You took a deep breath and continued the ascent towards the second floor with more determination in your steps. Reaching the top of the staircase, you turned and walked toward the nursery. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light peeking through. You put your hand on the doorknob before readjusting your posture and reclaiming your confidence. You opened the door only to be greeted by...no one. Confused and thankful nothing jumped out to scare you, you turned every which way until you were dizzy, thinking you had somehow missed the six foot man in the beautifuly decorated nursery.

“Jaehyun?” You called out but there was no reply. You walked further into the room towards the crib. You braced yourself along the railing, the smoothness reminding you that Jaehyun built this himself with his own two hands. Two hands attached to a warm body that also proposed and promised you a lifetime of happiness. You should feel happy in this room like you did a week ago. But now you felt different. Off. “What is wrong with me?”

What were you there for exactly? What were you trying to accuse him of? What you were thinking he did could all have been something your mind made up because you were actually too scared to finally settle down and commit to someone. It was entirely plausible. You did this in all your relationships. You ran away from Taeil, from Doyoung, Taeyong, and Kun. Jaehyun wasn't special. The only thing he did differently was propose to you before you could escape. But you actually truly did want to stay this time. And maybe that was why you were so afraid. You were afraid of finding out something you actually had to run away from.

Tired of being in your thoughts and standing on your increasingly aching feet, you called out for him. “Jaehyun, we need to talk--“

“Let’s talk.”

Startled, you dropped the envelope inside the crib before turning to face your fiancé in the doorway with a rod in his hand adorned with bumblebee patterned curtains. He was wearing a fitted, plain black t-shirt— one of several in his closet, jeans and canvas sneakers. Damn, he looked good. Simple, but so good. And you looked like a mess of a creature before him in your pajamas, house slippers, and wild bed hair.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked after taking in your tousled appearance. “What are you doing here? Did Jeno let you in?” He placed the rod against the wall before walking up to you and grabbing your hands in his. He led you to the rocking chair, ushering you to sit while he crouched down in front of you. “Today has been very weird. First I had to pick you up from the emergency room. Then the release of my new movie was delayed by the studio. Jeno suddenly quit. And now you're here out of nowhere. Not that you being here is strange or anything. I love your company—wait did you drive here? Didn’t the doctor say—“

“Jeno quit?” you interrupted his rambling. “You didn’t fire him?” With the way Jeno ran down the stairs, you were pretty sure he was running away from something--or someone. But Jaehyun’s features gave off a look of concern and slight offense that you would think he’d fire Jeno for any possible reason.

“No, he quit on his own. He said the stress of being my assistant was finally starting to weigh him down. I guess having to deal with your brother getting arrested wasn't exactly something he wanted to experience.”

At the mention of your brother's name, you remembered exactly why you were there in Jaehyun's home in the first place. “Why did you have my brother arrested? And why didn’t you let him call me from the police station? I may be pregnant, but Mark is still my brother. Not yours. I could have handled the situation.”

Jaehyun cupped your face in an attempt to calm the rising anger he could see wanting to boil up inside you. “I was going to go over to your place, actually. Sit down face to face and explain how Mark got involved in this silly feud between my cousin and I. But my agent called to give me ‘bad news’ and then Jeno came shortly after giving me his less than 24-hour notice.”

“I should have been a higher priority, Jaehyun. I’m your fiancée!” You all but screamed in your heightening temper and pushed his hands away from your face. That probably sounded selfish on your end, but considering your reason for showing up to his house unannounced, it needed to be said. You hadn’t planned on blowing your top so quickly, but every thought inside your mind was racing, making it hard for you to stay level.

His hands went down and gripped the armrests of the rocking chair. “I know and I’m sorry. But you’re here now, so please let me explain.” You didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. You just wanted him to admit whatever your brain was accusing him of so you could leave and be heartbroken alone in your bedroom. But of course you said okay, anyway, since you literally had no other choice but to listen to him. “I truly did not know Mark was borrowing cars from Taeil. If I had known that information beforehand, I would never have put him or Taeil in that position. Mark was simply an unexpected factor in this ongoing tit for tat game of family rivalry.”

“Ongoing?” After he proposed to you, Jaehyun had promised you that he would talk to his cousin about everything. So why was this beef over you between the cousins still unsquashed? “Jae, what does that even mean if you were the one who bought him the cars in the first place?”

“It means that my cousin is a leech and I finance him in order to keep him functioning.” Your eyes went wide, but you didn’t say anything so he continued. “Taeil’s weak attempt to separate us with his words spoken at the baby shower did not sit right with me. So since he decided to bite the hand that literally feeds him, I felt petty and decided to report both my vehicles that I allow him to drive as stolen.”

Petty? There was nothing petty about that at all! It was straight up mean! Almost cruel! How could Jaehyun do that to his own cousin--his family? He wasn’t unprovoked, but nothing Taeil did or said deserved for him to get thrown in jail.

“How could you do that to a member of your own family, Jaehyun? If you were to get mad at me, would you do something like that, too?” Your mind had already wanted to make him out to be a bad person if it would help you confront him, but there he was convincing you himself.

“What? Y/N, no! Please don’t make this more than what it is,” he pleaded, squeezing the armrests tighter. “Taeil and I have our issues, and I know I went too far. But I would never hurt you like that.” You didn't want to believe him, but the sincerity in his eyes instantly calmed you against your will. “In hindsight it was not the right thing to do. I admit it. But I truly didn’t know Mark was using the cars and had been for some time apparently. And if Mark needs a car, why didn’t you just tell me? I have plenty he could borrow. They’re all nicer than what Taeil was rolling around in anyway.”

Your eyes narrowed, the brief reassurance you felt from him fleeting at his flippant remark. “Mark and Taeil have had a relationship with one another since way before you came into the picture,” you snapped. “Taeil knew Mark when he was still in diapers. He looks up to Taeil like an older brother. Whenever Mark needs brotherly advice, Taeil is always there to lead or guide him. I was happy their relationship picked back up once Taeil moved back here. He’s done more for my little brother than anyone else has. And to think that you almost put that in jeopardy.”

Seemingly having touched a nerve, Jaehyun's nostrils flared slightly when he sighed. “I apologize, Y/N. I really am sorry. The charges were dropped and Mark has nothing on his record.” Your eyes followed his hands as he let go of the armrests and reconnected them with yours. “I promise I will make it up to Mark. And you. We can move on from this.”

Move on from this? Like it was just that simple? Your brother was handcuffed and thrown into the back of a cop car for no reason. It was something totally preventable if Jaehyun hadn’t been an asshole in the first place. And even if he had known Mark was driving the cars, he would have just put a report out on a day he knew Taeil was driving one of them. It would have been easy for him to figure out. Taeil wasn’t that hard to follow.

To follow…

Your eyes quickly shot back up to meet his, startling him back a bit. The words you spoke next came out in a sizzling string, climbing their way out from being forced into the dark corners of your mind. “I find it really hard to believe that you had no knowledge of Taeil letting Mark borrow the cars when you seem to keep tabs on everyone else connected to me.”

You hadn’t wanted to outright accuse him like that in case you were wrong about everything, but the anger growing inside you had finally taken over. You couldn’t take it back. And now the thread that held together your relationship with your fiancé was being tested.

Jaehyun’s mouth opened and closed in shock as his eyes flickered with confusion and something else you couldn’t quite place. You wanted to say it was fear. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone a cross between offended and worried.

You stood up from the rocking chair, pushing him out of the way to move towards the crib. You retrieved the envelope you dropped inside of it and shoved it into his hands. Standing to his feet, he looked at the envelope like it was an unidentified object never before seen on planet earth. And then his eyes went blank.

He walked over to the other side of the room and simply placed the envelope on the fully stocked bookshelf without any attempt to open it. Aghast, your eyebrows went high into your hairline. “So you’re just not going to open it?”

“Yes,” he said too simply.

Your fists balled at your sides. “And why not?”

“Don’t need to see what I already know is in there.”

You hiccuped. A premature sob getting stuck inside your throat.

“Didn’t think it would show up again after Jeno lost it.”

The room was spinning. You needed to grab onto the railing of the crib for support. Jeno? No, you had received the envelope from Doyoung who had supposedly received it from Winwin. Wait! Was that why Jeno’s eyes grew wide when he looked at it on the staircase? Was this the reason he quit his job so suddenly? Nothing was adding up. “H-how do you know the contents belong to Jeno?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Are there photos of Kun and some random woman in there?”

“Yes,” you answered him shakily.

“Jeno’s photos.”

Eyes glazed over, you stared at your fiancé standing across from you as your train of thought went back to the dark edges of your mind. For a moment you felt weak, and you thought your legs were going to give out beneath you. Jaehyun had thought the same thing, for he was at your side in an instant with a hand on your back, coaxing you to sit back down in the rocking chair.

“No. I’m standing,” you said firmly, your strength returning with full force, reignited by his audacity to touch you right now. You jerked away from him and walked over to the bookshelf. You aggressively grabbed the envelope off it and opened it before him. You held up the photos of Kun and the woman before throwing them down onto the floor. You pulled out the rest of the photos taken earlier today and threw those down as well before balling up the entire envelope in your hands. “Make this make sense, Jaehyun. Make it all make sense!” you yelled at him then threw the wad of paper at his chest, where it bounced off and unceremoniously landed at his feet.

Unflinching, he swallowed thickly as he studied the contents of the envelope on the floor. “The envelope did feel a bit thick. I now see why Jeno quit so suddenly.”

Jeno, Jeno, Jeno! Why did this all keep going back to Jeno? “What are you saying,” you demanded slowly.

“He was sloppy. Or careless. Maybe he did it on purpose.” He toed one of the photos on the floor that had been facing downwards and turned it over with his shoe. “I see he had these taken today. They never crossed my desk, but somehow ended up in your hands. You were never supposed to see them.”

Your throat became tight and you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Involuntarily, you sat back down onto the rocking chair as your body betrayed you. You were weak. You could no longer stand because he had just admitted it in less than so many words. It wasn’t a complete confession, but it was all you needed to confirm what you desperately didn’t want to believe. You didn’t like the sound of where any of this was going, but you still wanted him to continue, to say he had a perfectly good and logical explanation for why Jeno would have all of those photos taken. But you couldn’t say anything, not immediately. You were rendered speechless by the truth you so hopelessly wanted to deny.

“Jaehyun,” you said barely above a whisper. “I’m going to need a little more than that.” He looked at you, his eyes soft with the unspoken words he saw mirrored inside your own--with the fear of knowing how this was going to end. “If you don't want to start with the ones from today,” you continued, “then start with Kun. Just tell me something.”

He took a breath and ran his hands through his hair. A gesture that forewarned he was about to unload a massive amount of unpleasant information. “Kun didn’t deserve you. He only appeared to be faithful to you," he said when he began. But of course, this was something you already knew--facts already revealed to the both of you outside of Ten's clinic the day of the paternity tests. "The woman in the photo was a fling from his past," he continued. "They started hooking up again towards the tail end of your relationship.”

A fling from Kun's past? You knew Kun had been in other relationships before you, but the two of you made a point never to bring up past relationships while you were together. You didn't want to talk about your exes for obvious reasons, but what reasons did Kun have? From what you knew, Kun refused to be stuck in the past and always looked at what was in front of him--who was in front of him. But then again, what did you actually know about Kun other than what he showed you on the surface?

“And you became privy to this information how?” you asked Jaehyun. Obviously he had known for some time before the paternity testing since he was able to orchestrate having Kun's pictures taken.

“Remember our conference call last year when I asked you to review my contracts for the scripted series?”

“Yes.”

“Well Jeno caught sight of Kun dropping you off in front of your office building that same day he brought over the contracts. A kiss on the lips between the two of you and he figured you were an item.”

A deep frown set into your face and your head tilted to the side in bafflement. In your head, you put together what Jaehyun had said and what you already knew and came up with your own conclusion. “So Jeno told you that I had a boyfriend, you became insanely jealous, and then decided to start following Kun around, waiting for a perfect moment to expose him as unfaithful?”

“Not exactly." He took note of your skepticism denoted by your stance and quirked eyebrow. “I was happy you found someone. I figured the moments we shared before I left was the extent of our friendship and physical relationship. Especially since we hadn’t decided on if we were a 'we'. I truly was glad you found someone to be with," he reiterated his first statement while continuing to look straight into your eyes. "I was a little sad when I found out, but I knew that I should have worked harder to be with you or just have you wait for me. I had come to terms with losing you. I was going to move on. But then Jeno went for his regularly scheduled dental appointment and coincidentally his dentist that day was Dr. Qian.”

“You’re lying,” you said before your brain fully caught up with what was going on. It was too good to be true--too easy. Did he actually think you were going to fall for that? There was no way Kun could have fallen into Jaehyun’s hands so easily.

“I really wish I was. Jeno usually sees the other dentist that works with Kun, but that day his partner was out and Kun was in charge of all the clients.”

You were suspicious of his answer, but you remained silent with confirmation that you wanted him to continue given by your facial expression.

“Jeno, being the diligent assistant that he was, prodded for information regarding your relationship--without me knowing about any of this yet, I might add. But when Kun told him about the hot date with his girlfriend that same night, imagine his surprise when Kun named a woman that wasn’t you.”

Heat radiated through your body once more as you processed his words. “If you knew about him, then why did you keep that from me, Jaehyun? I could have gotten out of that relationship a long time ago!” The volume of your voice raised with every word. You couldn't fathom why he would do that to you. Everything that happened up until now could have been avoided had he just told you when he found out. But instead, purposefully or not, he wronged you by keeping it a secret.

“I had every intention of telling you," he said, holding his arms open in surrender. "I just didn’t know how to do it. If I told you then, you would have accused me of snooping like you are now. Or you would have gotten mad at me and said I was trying to come between your relationship or something, like lying to win you over. And you seemed happy with him, so why would I ruin that for you? I was stuck between multiple options.” He let his hands fall back to his sides in exasperation.

“So instead of telling me, you decided to take matters upon yourself anyway and have the man followed by your henchman, Jeno and Yangyang, all the way to his fake convention tour?” you interrogated him. Jaehyun finally broke the eye contact he held with you by looking down at the floor and rubbed his neck. The guilt etched onto his face was not being masked one bit. Frustrated by his behavior, you reached out to him and yanked him closer to where you sat by his other hand. “Talk, dammit.”

He sighed and forced himself to look at you again, and swallowed thickly before continuing. “It was actually...an all expense paid vacation purchased by me.”

You let go of his hand, stunned into silence as your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes held so much anguish and disgust. Disgust directed at him. It pained him to see it--to acknowledge that he was the one to make you look at him that way. He knew he had royally fucked up everything he was trying to build with you, and the only thing he could do in this situation that he caused was to completely come clean. “I figured that if I sent Kun away, I could come home and tell you everything I found out about him. And when you decided to leave him--”

“You would already be there to put my broken heart back together,” you finished for him. There was no point in sugar coating it, but it sounded so much harsher when you said it out loud. His face flushed with shame. He looked so sorry--so pitifully guilty. You had every impulse to get up and slap him right then, but you didn’t. Instead, you let yourself speak freely. “That was your master plan? To set Kun up so you could swoop in and fix me like I’m some kind of broken object?”

“No, Y/N, I--”

“I can’t believe you of all people would do this, Jaehyun.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” he disclosed in a panicked attempt to deflect some of the blame.

You wanted to slap him again for even trying. “Yeah, Jeno. I’m sure he did a lot following your orders--”

“It was Winwin, too. It was his idea.”

You frowned, confused. You had momentarily forgotten that Winwin was involved with all of this. It was his idea? That would explain the way he acted in court earlier that day. And you did recall Winwin saying that he was the one who sent Kun on the fake trip. Now that you thought about it, what Winwin had said in court sounded a lot like what Jaehyun had just told you. But how? You had only met Winwin when you began dating Kun. Which meant…

“How long have you known Winwin?”

Jaehyun took another deep breath. He seemed to do that everytime he was about to hit you with more unpleasant information. “Winwin was my assistant before Jeno. Before I met you. He quit because he couldn’t handle the job anymore. He ended up becoming a travel agent because that was all he could find. We’re still friends and we met up from time to time. I told him about you one day. About us. That I wanted us to be serious. And when I told him your name, he said he already knew you and that he already knew about Kun. So, I elicited his help and together we sent Kun on that phony trip.”

No thoughts. Head Empty.

He already knew Winwin before you ever met either of them? The two of them were close enough with each other and became close enough to you to come up with this ridiculous plan to blackmail Kun? It was a really dumb way to avenge your honor. And you couldn’t tell if you were mad or happy after hearing all of what they did. You were...conflicted. Very. Conflicted.

“I..this explains a lot and so little at the same time,” you managed to say coming out of your stupor. “I would have never guessed the two of you were once friends. The way you hid it from me...wow. Did you give Winwin acting advice?” you asked him bitterly.

“We never stopped being friends. He was willing to expose what type of man Kun really was so he played along as best as he could. We both thought we were doing the right thing. We just went about it in the wrong way. I’m really sorry, Y/N.” He looked at your hand, wanting so badly to reach out and hold it, but he knew you wouldn’t let him touch you right now. So instead he turned around and faced the wall on the opposite side of the room as he continued trying to exonerate himself. “In hindsight I should have just called you and told you. Whatever your decision would have been I would have supported it and moved on.” He walked toward the wall he was facing and placed his hand against it to support himself through his speech. “I truly thought I was doing the right thing. If I hadn’t screwed up the timing then my blackmail plot would have worked, haha...” He laughed after he said it, but there was no feeling in it whatsoever. “But then again it wouldn’t have mattered. I let Kun extend his vacation for a whole month with plans of getting back to you as quickly as I could so I could tell you all of this. I just needed him away from you for as long as possible so you would forget him by the time I came home.” He turned back around to face you. “But I was two months too late and already sixth in line. I didn’t think I would need to compete with any of the other guys for your heart.”

Sixth in line.

Suddenly, you found yourself gripping the armests of the rocking chair as your ears honed in on his last few sentences. You processed what he just said, repeating it a million times in your head until it finally clicked into place. You were a pretty sharp and smart individual. You earned several academic achievement awards and scholarships in college, graduated at the top of your class in Law school, passed the Bar on your first attempt, and you were highlighted as one of the top entertainment lawyers in your area. So your brain quickly connected the scattered dots after your eyes went down to the floor and you saw the other pictures you had carried inside the envelope.

Your eyes went back up to look at him. “You knew about them before you came back, too.”

“FuCk.”

Jaehyun turned around and walked out into the hallway with you following without warning. He had gotten caught in another lie and couldn’t face you anymore.

Now sitting alone inside the nursery, you felt your anxiety go through the roof. Your hands began to shake and your bottom lip trembled as you held back the urge to scream.

“Come back here...” It came out choked and barely loud enough for him to hear wherever he had gone. “Come back here, Jaehyun!” Your rage took over and you were able to yell for him as loudly as you could.

You got up from the rocking chair and made your way out into the hallway to search for your fleeing fiancé. Luckily, you didn’t have to walk far. He was pacing up and down the hallway between the nursery and the master bedroom. His back was tense at his shoulders and his fists were tightly clenched at his sides. You knew words weren’t going to stop him, so you walked to him and forcibly grabbed his shirt to turn him around and face you. When you did, you saw his eyes up close. They were red with tears begging to be let loose from his ducts. They spoke volumes. Within them you saw fear and shame doing a tantalizing dance together with immense sorrow.

Jaehyun hated it. He hated the way you looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Your eyes read back to him anger, betrayal, and genuine suffering. He couldn’t bear to have you look at him like that any longer and wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t a monster. But when he quietly spoke your name and tried to caress your shoulder, you immediately smacked his hand away.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” A tear ran down his face.

“No, Jaehyun! You do not get to cry!” You pushed him away from you by his chest, causing him to stumble backwards a bit. “How long? How long have you had YangYang following me around and secretly taking photos of me with the others? And don’t bullshit me. I want the whole truth!”

“Since I sent Kun away, okay! I knew you’d try and fill some preexistent void...” he trailed off and rubbed his wet chin, and then wiped his hand on his pants. “So I had you followed. What if you had gotten involved with someone similar to Kun? Or what if you found someone not good enough to be—“

“So the fuck what, Jaehyun! It’s my life and you had no reason to meddle with any part of it. Did you manipulate the other guys, too? Did you find a way to advertise phony trips to them, too?”

“No! I never meddled with anyone else, only Kun. At some point I realized those momentary flings were something you needed. A release. And by the time I had enough of your dick hopping with guys that weren’t me, who didn’t want to be with you long term except for maybe two of them, that’s when I decided to become the last participant in your ongoing sexcapade. I may have been sixth in line to get to your heart, but I was determined to be the first one you chose to share it with completely.”

“Then why didn’t you stop having me followed around?” You were teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff at this point. You felt a small kick inside you, your little bee signaling to you that if you kept this up she’d physically join you sooner rather than later, but you ignored her warning.

“I had every intention to have you not followed anymore. After I returned early from filming, I decided to try really hard to make you see that I was the man you wanted and needed. But then you ghosted me when you decided you wanted to try again with Kun. After all the things I did that you were unaware of, you still chose to be with him. I could have sent you the photos then, but I didn’t want to hurt you like that after you and I had just emotionally and physically reconnected. Plus if I did, we wouldn’t be having the conversation now after all that has happened between us this far.”

“Tch. Of course we wouldn’t be like we are now! Jaehyun, look at us! I wish you would have shown me those photos when you wanted to because I’d be done with both you and Kun. For good. It would have saved me a lot of tears and heartache.”

Delusional, he was genuinely shocked at what he heard about you being done with him. He thought he may have finally gotten through to you with his ridiculous explanations. “You don’t mean that, Y/N. We would have worked through it after you heard where I was coming from and my reasoning behind the decisions I was making--”

“I don’t mean it? You don’t think extortion and manipulation isn’t a reason to cut ties with someone?”

“Yes, but I had to do what needed to done--“

“You didn’t need to have me followed or exploit Kun. My life isn’t a movie where you can just play whatever role you feel like!”

Those words cut him deep, and his countenance flickered with pain. “Y/N, I’m sorry--“

“Stop saying that! Because if you meant it you wouldn’t still be having me followed to this day! You were the last person I thought would hurt me this much!”

You had not cried once up until this point, but the dam had finally been breached. Tears fell fast from your eyes as your heart shattered into a million pieces. You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed uncontrollably. Your baby was shifting inside you, agitated by all of the stress you were putting on her. And the thought of her safety was the only thing keeping you from falling to your knees.

“I never meant to hurt you like this...” He said as his own heart crumbled from watching himself single handedly destroy yours. “But...even after all I’ve done,” he continued, though you couldn’t imagine what more he could possibly have to say. “I’m still better than all the other guys you’re still hung up on.”

“I’m not hung up on anyone! I said yes to being your fiancée, remember?” You aggressively removed your hand adorned with the beautiful ring from your face and held it up to his. “I said yes without hesitation. But knowing what I know now, maybe I shouldn’t have. Even the fourth guy in line wouldn’t have hurt me this badly!”

Jaehyun’s eyes grew wide then narrowed before he quickly rushed a hand through his hair. It had become increasingly unkempt since the beginning of the argument. “Who, Taeyong? He wouldn’t know how to take care of you even if he tried. He can’t even properly manage his own bar.” You didn’t even ask how he knew which exact guy was fourth and let him continue talking. “This is actually his third attempt at a bar. His first two bars closed shortly after opening because of the shady dealings he was doing to keep the place afloat. He’s managed to make it past six months now because he was threatened again with more jail time. Plus you started sleeping with him again, and of course he believed he would have a life with you. So that forced him to start changing his way of living.”

“Well it’s good to know I’ve had such a positive impact on someone trying to turn their life around. At least he was honest with me about the type of person he was before and after he met me. All my other partners seem to have been more honest with me than you ever were.”

“Not the six foot phony who was one-third of your impromptu threesomes,” he said with a scoff before wiping any remaining tears he had with the back of his hand. “He’s engaged, Y/N. Has been for an entire year.”

“What?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah. The troll is afraid of commitment. But you already knew that considering you had multiple rendezvous with him while I was away. You were so devastated to hear Kun cheated on you after all this time, meanwhile you were the other woman for Johnny.”

“I didn’t know they were engaged! If I knew that I wouldn’t have slept with him again. But she knew about us before that. It’s not my fault he didn’t tell me everything about them.”

“Still didn’t make it right. Especially since you were also cheating on Kun at the same time.”

“I know it’s not right, Jaehyun! Why are you trying to redirect the conversation to make me look like a vile person?!” He didn’t have an immediate response for you, so you decided to keep going in your state of turbulent emotions. If he wanted to be nasty with his accusations, then you were going to be nasty right back. “Does Johnny intimidate you? You think that if you hadn’t come back or if I wasn’t with Kun, then maybe I would have ended up with Johnny instead? He is my type, after all, which is why I slept with him so many times. He’s tall, handsome, well-endowed, and has a dazzling smile just like you. Did you view him as your main competition?”

“Now you’re just saying stuff to try and piss me off,” he said with a set scowl on his face. “I don’t need to compete with someone who voluntarily cheats on his girlfriend. If the two of you had gotten together, he would have done the same thing to you and you would be in the same situation you were with Kun. Look around, Y/N. All those guys are terrible compared to me!”

You crossed your arms over your chest and shifted your weight onto one foot. “Fine. Since you seem to have some dirt on every single guy I slept with. Enlighten me. Tell me all the information you paid Jeno, YangYang, and whoever the fuck else you hired to find. Because I know you didn’t try to find anything out for yourself. Tell me all the secrets Yuta, Taeil, and Doyoung are keeping from me.”

Accepting your challenge, he began divulging facts without hesitation. “This is a secret not even Yuta knows, but he has another kid out there in the world. Maybe more, who knows. Jeno went above and beyond my authority and paid his ex-wife for the details. The kid’s mom had been trying to reach out to Yuta for a while, but the ex always intercepted and kept her quiet.” He saw your face fall, as you were very affected by this tidbit of information. To console you he said, “I’ll admit I created a monster with Jeno, and it wasn’t until Mark got arrested that he regained his good natured consciousness.”

“Why haven’t you disclosed this information to Yuta?”

“I wasn’t even supposed to know about that. Besides, you and the baby are my top priority. Not him.” Jaehyun leaned against the banister of the railing overlooking the first floor of his estate.

“I’m going to tell him,” you asserted.

“Suit yourself. I don’t care anymore,” he said with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, what about Taeil? Did he steal your girlfriend when he was younger? Is that why you’re making sure he doesn’t end up with me either?”

“No.” He said affronted.

“Then why?”

He looked down as he ran his hand back and forth along the polished wood of the banister. “Because I hired the love of his life to be my lawyer, pursued her situationally and then romantically, maybe fathered her first born child, and then I told her I loved her and proposed.”

“That’s not what I asked nor is it new information. Shit, everyone at the baby shower could have figured that out—they probably did figure that out.”

“No, it’s not. But to add insult to injury, he can’t provide for you like I can. Taeil’s broke. He’s a terrible accountant that made some piss poor investments in the past. He has no money. No savings. Nothing tucked under his mattress. He drives my cars because he can’t afford to buy his own. His house? Mine. His gym membership? He’s a guest on my account. Those bad investments? Good investments now since I got my hands on them. The only reason he was able to successfully get you in bed was because he moved back here while I was busy filming my movie; before I could convince him otherwise. He was the one that recommended I hire you as my lawyer. He just didn’t expect that I’d steal your heart, too.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, but some things were starting to make sense. “So…,” you began as you spoke your thought process out loud. “When Taeil went to study abroad where you stayed, he lived with you and confided to you about our failed relationship. And then when you saw the opportunity, you sought me out and continued to pursue me even though you knew about his strong feelings towards me?” Jaehyun looked to you and said nothing, affirming your assumption. “You’re sick.”

“It sounds worse when you say it that way. But my feelings have always been genuine. I originally sought out your professionalism and just so happened to fall in love with you while we worked together. I didn’t fall in love with Taeil’s memory of a long lost girlfriend. I fell in love with a respectable, successful, and mature woman. Different time. Different place. Different feelings.”

You hated that he was right. He didn’t make himself fall in love with you just so he could steal you away behind Taeil’s back. He fell in love with you naturally. But as you have come to find out, he loved you a bit too much and was willing to do whatever it took to make him look like the better man.

Feeling your heart wavering, you squeezed your arms tighter against your chest before you asked him about the last person he supposedly had information on. “And Doyoung?”

“The only thing I have on him...” He hesitated mid-sentence as if he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to say what he was going to tell you. “...is that he pawned the ring he purchased for you. He was going to propose to you after graduation, but Taeyong got in the way.”

You audibly hissed as you violently sucked the air between your teeth, causing Jaehyun to flinch slightly. “Jeno didn’t tell you this,” you told him with a clenched jaw. “You’re lying to me again?”

“I’m not lying. And it wasn’t Jeno. Ten told me after the paternity test.”

“Liar,” you huffed out. You could feel your body temperature rising as your breaths became shorter.

He let out a dispiriting chuckle to himself. “Apparently you didn’t know, but he’s Team Jaehyun. Has been for quite some time now. He also got caught up in this ‘who’s the daddy’ drama and couldn’t help but dip his toes in. So he gave me some insight. He joked that the last men standing would be me and Doyoung. Even if the baby is for neither of us, we’d still be the last two actually vying for your heart.”

“Doyoung and I despise each other,” you hiccuped.

“And you despise me, too, now. So I guess Ten was way off with his assumption.”

“Just shut up!”

All of this had to be a lie! There was know way Ten had told Jaehyun that Doyoung was going to propose to you after you graduated law school. If Ten did know about it, all the way up to the detail about Doyoung pawning the ring, why hadn’t he ever told you? And why did he tell Jaehyun? Was Ten working with him, too? And how much of a financial hole was Doyoung in that he needed to sell the ring he was going to use to profess his undying love--

Jaehyun noticed the way your breathing had become irregular, and urgently pushed himself away from the banister when he registered the frantic look on your face as the cogs whirled inside your mind at the thought of Doyoung wanting to propose to you. “Y/N, listen to me. I know this is--“

“Sorry, pretty boy. Your time is up.”

Equally stunned by the interruption, both you and Jaehyun whipped your heads around towards the staircase to see Yuta making his entrance onto the scene. You were so caught up in Jaehyun’s bullshit that you had momentarily forgotten he was still waiting for you outside. The tightness in your chest loosened at the sight of him, and you were thankful he kept his word by coming to your rescue at the right time.

“Y/N, it’s time to go?”

Jaehyun’s narrowed eyes darted quickly between you and the other man standing before him. “How long have you been in here?”

Yuta made his way over to you and gently uncrossed your arms that were still pressed tightly against your chest. “Long enough to know I have another kid somewhere out there. Not the way I wanted to find out, but then again, you can’t always get what you want.” While looking into your glossy eyes, he cuffed his hand around one of yours and let you squeeze it as hard as you needed to in order to keep hold of your sanity. He could feel the fast pace of your heightened pulse through your palm. “My ex-wife is pretty trash, huh?” He asked, then turned his head to face Jaehyun to now look directly into his eyes. “Don’t make the same mistake I did and marry the wrong person, Y/N.”

Beneath that cold, blank expression, you knew Jaehyun was fuming. You, his fiancée, had come unannounced to confront him, and now stood in his home holding hands with another man who also held claim to a piece of your heart. You stared at him as he seethed in silence, letting every letter of Yuta’s words sink into his prefrontal cortex.

“Don’t call me, text, email, or anything,” you commanded Jaehyun after you were able to find your breath. “I need time away from you to think. I need time for myself, my health, and my baby. Our possible baby.” You pointed between all three of you within the space. “Just let me think. No matter how long it takes.” You paused briefly to shift a bit of your weight onto Yuta, as you were now too tired to stand on your own. “If you want any little bit of hope that I’ll stay with you after all this, you’ll do these things for me.”

With your other hand you reached out to Yuta’s, and he proceeded to help you walk down the stairs and out of the mansion.

There wasn’t anything he could say. The only thing Yuta could do was listen to the sniffling of your nose and breathy sighs as you cried softly beside him while he drove you home. You had a great deal of things on your mind and you would talk when you were ready. He himself had a lot on his mind. His ex-wife had been blocking him from seeing his other child. The only reason he could think of for her to do something like that was so she could secure their son’s inheritance, to ensure that he got all of it without having to split it with another sibling. He didn’t put it past her. She already tried to wring his bank account dry during the divorce. This made him wonder what his ex had in mind to do if he was the father of your baby, too. He needed to do something about that conniving woman and get his son away from her before she did something else he wouldn’t be able to forgive.

You sighed heavily, snapping Yuta out of his thoughts. From the corner of his eye he saw you wipe your nose with one of the tissues from the packet he got for you out of his glove compartment. Seeing you like this was so upsetting to him. He was used to seeing you as a strong, independent woman who didn’t have any problem taking care of herself. To see someone like you so broken up because of another person made him so mad. He should have punched Jaehyun like he originally wanted to.

“I’ll stay with you until your brother gets back,” Yuta said, breaking the stagnant air around you.

You shook your head. “No, your family needs you.”

“Are you sure?”

You weren’t. You weren’t sure if you actually wanted to be alone until Mark came back. You weren’t sure you could be alone. But you were sure that you didn't want to drag your brother or Yuta any further down this deep pit of despair you dug for yourself. You didn’t want to go home anymore. You didn’t want to be there alone with your thoughts and you didn’t want to be there with Yuta who had his own issues that needed to be sorted out right away. But where could you go? The man you thought you could trust your heart to just ripped it out of your chest and stomped on it. There was nowhere else for you to go but home to cry on your brother, but you refused to keep stressing him out. So you would have to go to a place where you could cry on someone else who actually had a role in your messed up storyline. Two of which would more than likely turn you away, and one of them would definitely welcome you with open arms against their better judgement. And the other would…

“I want you to take me somewhere else instead,” you answered Yuta’s question.

“What? Where?”

“I just don’t want to go home. Please, Yuta?”

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “I’m going to have to charge you cab fare.”

Because of Yuta’s joke, a small smile was able to make its way onto your tear stained face. “Thank you. Take the exit after the next one and then make a left at the light.”

Yuta followed your instructions as you directed him to your destination. He had an idea on where you were going and his assumption grew stronger when he began to drive through a residential area. You pointed to the house you wanted him to drop you off in front of and he pulled up to the curb to park his car.

“That’ll be $36.00, please,” he said, reaching out his hand towards you. You ignored his antics and began taking off your seatbelt. “Whose house is this anyway?”

“You’ll see.”

“Oh no. I’m not letting you out until you tell me.” To reinforce his point, he pressed the button to re-lock his car doors that had automatically unlocked when he put his car into park.

“I’ll be fine. What more can be done to me after what I just went through?” You unlocked the door manually and then struggled your way out of the car by yourself. By the time Yuta had taken off his own seatbelt to stop you, you were already halfway to the front door of the house, so he gave up and let himself watch you go up the rest of the way and ring the doorbell. After opening the door, the owner of the house’s hands went immediately to your puffy cheeks as the sight of your distressing appearance suddenly caused him to become overcome with urgency.

Yuta craned his neck as he tried to see who it was you chose to use as a supportive pillar. When he got a good look at them he made a hum of enlightenment before sitting back properly in his seat. “I was expecting to see her mother, not the rabbit.”

You were immediately ushered into the house and made to sit on the living room sofa. Doyoung left you briefly to make herbal tea after you accepted his offer for a cup. Once done, he set the cup and saucer into your hands, and then he sat down beside you on the couch with his elbows resting on his legs. “What happened to you?” he asked you after waiting for you to take your first sip of the tea. After your visit with him to the ER earlier that day, he assumed you had gone home to rest like the doctor prescribed.

“I found out who really had the pictures taken.” Doyoung didn’t say anything, allowing you to continue when you were ready. He watched as you took another sip of your tea, noticing the way your hand slightly trembled when you placed it back down onto the saucer. “It was Jaehyun.”

As if he had already known the answer, Doyoung closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. “I figured as much.”

“How long have you known?” Leave it to Doyoung to be so perceptive. He should quit being a lawyer and become a detective.

“I found the pictures the day you had us all tested. I put the pieces together a little bit before your baby shower.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Doyoung looked down shamefully at his hands. “You ask that like you were actually willing to talk to me.”

“It didn’t stop you from giving me the envelope.”

He moved one of his hands to push back his hair from his face. “I’m sorry about that. My mind was grappling with so many emotions that day. I wanted to talk to you about everything in person, but he kept getting in my way.” From the way he spit out the word, you knew he was talking about Jaehyun without having to say his name.

“I’m glad you did it when you did,” you told him as you gazed dismally into the orange liquid inside your cup. “I was able to use what you gave me to confront him and he revealed his true self.”

Doyoung’s eyes moved from your face to your hand that held the saucer. You were still wearing the engagement ring from Jaehyun. He didn’t want to make any assumptions about where your relationship with him stood. “Are you still…” he asked tentatively.

You followed his gaze and inferred what he was asking you. “I don’t know,” you said after taking a deep breath. “I just...he told me a lot of things. I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust him again.”

“I see,” was all he could say to you in that moment.

There was another small period of silence between you so you could drink more of your tea, but in actuality you were mustering up the nerve to ask him this next question: “Is it true that you were going to propose to me?”

Doyoung’s entire body went stiff beside you. And you swore you saw his eyebrows hit the sky. “Who told you that lie?”

You turned your body slightly to face him more and looked into his eyes for the first time since entering his home. “Everybody has been lying to me lately and I just want to have an honest conversation with someone. So is it true?”

“Did Jaehyun tell you that to mess with your head? It’s obviously false,” he said, becoming defensively indignant.

“Ten told him.”

Doyoung didn’t respond right away, and so you knew it was the truth.

“How much money did you lose on the ring?”

“Why does that matter? You still left me anyway, so I would have had to sell it regardless.”

And here you thought the two of you would finally be able to put aside your differences.

“For fucks sake,” you gritted and practically threw the tea cup and saucer onto his coffee table. “I’m sorry I left you, okay! Is that what you want me to say? Stop reminding me of one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made! So can we please have a conversation like two human beings?”

Something you had just said lit a flame inside him and he could no longer hold back all the conflicting feelings he kept inside him. “Fine! If you want me to be honest, yes! I was going to propose to you. You were my everything just like you were to all these other guys that worship the ground you walk on for some reason. And I just don’t know why it has to be like this!” He took a second to take a shaky breath as tears began to prickle behind his eyes. “Because you were with me! You were supposed to be with me forever! But then you just left me to be with Taeyong, and I made myself hate you all this time even though I was the one who told you to go!” He hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve before any of his tears could fall. “Fuck!”

You stared at him wide eyed in disbelief at the fact that he was finally being honest about himself. But then you shook your head when something other than his current state came to your attention. “Was it really Taeyong or were you too afraid that I might have rejected your proposal to be with someone else?”

Doyoung sniffed and wiped his eyes once more. “Don’t psychoanalyze me right now.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He responded by rolling his eyes at you, making you scoff. “You know, you're the whole reason I have commitment issues. You’re the literal reason I ran into Taeyong’s arms. But he turned out to be crazy, so I left him. Then the next thing I knew I was working with two guys who only wanted me for my body rather than have a functioning relationship. I said I was fine with that, but I really wasn’t. So I found a seemingly good natured man to settle down with, but I was still unhappy with him because I wanted to try the no sex thing like an idiot. If you hadn’t run me away in the first place, we’d be married by now with our joint practice like we used to talk about, and I wouldn’t have come out of some crazy sex bender not knowing who the father of my daughter is!”

“I know, I know! And I’m so sorry!”

“Are you?!”

“Yes! And I wish I could take it all back!” He cradled his face in his hands as he fought back a sob. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N.”

“You made sure I believed otherwise.”

He slid his hands down and off his face. “Because I’m stupid.”

You shook your head at him again. “No, I’m stupid. I still don’t know who my baby’s father is because I’m too scared to look at the results.”

Doyoung’s eyes widened slightly. “You have the results and never told any of us you got them?”

“I know I’m terrible for keeping everyone in limbo. I wasn’t ready before. But now...I think I am. I have to be.” Doyoung watched quietly as you lifted up your left hand and twisted off the engagement ring on your finger. “Knowing who he is determines how I’m going to move forward with my life,” you continued and placed the ring onto the coffee table next to the small puddle of tea you spilled. “And I need to be able to face head on whatever fate the universe has chosen for me and my child.”

Dun dun duuuunnnnn!

For other chapters, see the masterlist.

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