#it would be nice if not everyone was having a shit time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minkieater · 23 hours ago

Text

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

005 》 HAN JISUNG

you needed a night out, you needed to have fun— at least that’s what yunho told you. when chan invites your group to a music festival where his curly headed roommate would also be, will it be what you need to get you back on track? or will you start from square one, again?

wc 15.5k my bad y’all its getting serious now | drinking, smoking, kissing, suggestive, music festival vibes, sadness, tiny gets fucked up. vomit but not descriptive. hanjis sexy

“have you guys ever thought about your wedding?”

of course you thought about getting married, your wedding, every little girl does— walking down the aisle next to her father, meeting the love of her life at the altar… all of it seemed so futile after your father passed, you haven’t thought about it as a true reality since then, more of a pipedream.

you didn’t know if you were simply driving yourself insane or if you really were obsessed with mingyu, but every single waking thought you’ve had since saturday was about getting married, knowing you were nowhere near that stage of your life but for some reason… questioning it. maybe even excited for it.

everything with mingyu has felt meant to be so far�� maybe it was.

the entire table looked at you in silence– eight pupils staring into your soul, wondering where the fuck that came from. yunho was quick to shut you down.

“i don’t even want to ask, tiny.”

“i’m serious! have you even considered what you’d want in a partner? what your wedding would look like?” you were in dreamland, sparkles in your eyes and everything as you stared up at the high ceilings of your kitchen. yeosang and san had brought over dinner, which led to the five of you seated on barstools around your kitchen island in silence, up until now.

“sexy and rich,” yeosang didn’t even look up, mouth full as he digged deeper into his meal.

san nodded in agreement– “my wedding will be big enough to make everyone attending jealous, small enough to make others wish they were invited.”

“you’re both shallow,” you grumble, picking at your plate, moving your food around. you glance at your twin, “ace, what about you? do you think reia’s the one?”

ace lets out a nervous chuckle, one that sounds exactly like yours, “i– uh, maybe. possible.”

you pop a brow, sitting back in your stool, straightening your back. you weren’t the only one that picked up on it, the entire table noticed his shift in energy, the change in tone. yunho asks, “what’s going on?”

ace groans in defeat when there was never an argument to begin with, elbows hitting the granite, palms digging into his eyes. “i think reia’s going to break up with me.”

“why?” your voice is loud, surprised. you take it down a notch, “what happened?”

he leans back, moving his hands away from his face and you notice that he looks tired. bags under his eyes, his skin looked dull, his freckles weren’t freckling like they usually did. you blamed it on school and the stress he’d been under– you didn’t think reia had anything to do with it. last time you checked, how ace felt about reia is how you felt about mingyu.

“she’s been saying shit like how i’m not giving her enough attention, not seeing her enough, all i care about is school and when i’m not doing homework i’m with you guys,” he huffs, his voice sounding weak now that he’s finally admitting it.

“why doesn’t she come hangout with us?” yeosang asked, but you were sure that’s what you were all thinking. “she’s usually here all the time, and your workload for school hasn’t changed.”

“i guess she’s been feeling this way for awhile,” ace stretched his arms over his head, lifting his eyebrows, expression saying he’s had this conversation already– with her. “we don’t have enough one on one time.”

yunho leans over the counter, palm holding up his baseball cap covered head, “get an airbnb for a weekend, take her somewhere nice, just the two of you. she’s probably feeling underappreciated and overwhelmed with her own schoolwork.”

“that’s actually a good idea,” ace marvels, a semblance of light returning to his eyes, “you’re so good with girls, bro. incredible how you’re still single.”

yunho smiles, “incredible how i manage to fight ‘em off me.”

yeosang rolls his eyes, “can we circle back to why teens is asking about marriage?”

“no,” the three boys say in unison, all eyes landing on yeosang.

“okay, fine, riddle me this,” yeosang sits a little straighter, index finger pointing to the air in front of him, “tiny, whose never gone on a date before a month ago, shows up to dinner with her prehistoric boyfriend and starts talking about marriage. no one wants to ask any questions?”

you gasp, “yeosang! he is not—”

“that’s actually a good point,” san shrugs, “we haven’t talked about him yet.”

“how old is he anyways?” yunho asks, both elbows on the table now, long fingers folded over one another on the top of his palms.

your cheeks flush, near mumbling as you redirect your attention back to the food in front of you, hoping no one notices the warmth on your skin. you were waiting for this question, scared of this question. “thirty.”

“tiny.” ace’s tone is firm, disappointed even if he only said your name— the underlying message is clear to you. you break your staring contest with your plate to look up to him, there are a million words on his tongue, but he says none of them.

your face burned in embarrassment, you were scrambling for something to say, small tuts leaving your lips instead. you didn’t know how to defend it, defend him— you were still debating it yourself. they didn’t know this was currently a sensitive topic, that you’d been non stop questioning your relationship with mingyu for almost forty eight hours, worried that it won’t work out because of that very reason.

san giggles, “we knew you had daddy issues, teens, would’ve never expected you to fuck someone old enough to be one. props to you, actually.”

your world went silent, the insult flipping a switch within you. your train of thought skipped right past anger to hurt, tears quickly filling your eyes. you fled from the kitchen— two palms flat on the granite countertop pushed you off of your stool, legs racing through your hallway. you only heard yunho scold san with a stern drag of his name as your legs took you to up your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

that wasn’t the conversation you intended to open by asking that question. you were once again putting your foot in your mouth, regretting sharing your thoughts, it was as if san had that statement locked and loaded–– ready to hit its target. your boys had always said whatever they thought, feelings be damned, you forgot how much it hurt to be on the receiving end.

it felt like you were younger when they’d tease you relentlessly, only stopping when ace made them. you haven’t felt that way in a long time, their teasing now was lighthearted, and you did it right back— it’s been years since you’ve been in tears in your bedroom over something one of the boys said.

as you laid on your back, sprawled across your mattress, you began to think, and what san said started to make more and more sense as you thought about it. daddy issues— your tears dried without you noticing. mingyu’s age, his career, his stability, the pet names, how he took care of you already, his dominating nature that ‘only came out with you… you ate up every moment— you loved it, even.

but it was all because of one thing, and as much as you hated it, san hit it right on the money.

“teens?” he spoke before he knocked, three rhythmic taps of his knuckles against your door.

“go away, yunho,” you frown, turning on your side with your back facing the door even if he couldn’t see you.

“let me in,” he urged, you could see his scowl through the wooden slab that separated you. “i’m sorry for what san said– san is sorry for what he said. please let me talk to you.”

you sighed, you knew he wouldn’t go away, he’d sit there until you opened up whether that be in one hour or six. you got up, unlocking your door, but you didn’t open it. you let him open it himself as he followed you inside your room, you plopped onto your bed lifelessly, your body a dead weight. he followed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, resting a hand on your ankles that laid one over the other.

“he shouldn’t of said that,” yunho started, “it was fucked up. he crossed a line.”

“he’s right,” your throat constricted, words fighting their way through. your words become quieter, a strain on your vocal chords, “i thought mingyu was perfect.”

“what did i tell you?” yunho leaned across your legs so he could see your face that was laid on the pillow. you looked down at him as he said, “you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.”

you blinked, tears returning to you, filling up your waterline. “he does all of those things, he makes me feel that way, and now i’m supposed to be normal when i know the only reason i feel this way about him is because my dad is dead? because matt fucking sucks?”

yunho purses his lips, his body stiffening on top of your legs. “tiny, there’s eight years between you. he’s fooling around with you, it’s not right.”

“i know our age difference already!” your voice raises, “he’s done everything right, yunho. you don’t know him, you didn’t even try to get to know him when he was here, instead you sulked in your bad mood like a child. what was that even about?”

“don’t get pissed at me because of something san said,” he sits up, his weight lifted from your legs, his eyes looking everywhere but at you as he continues. “i was just in a bad mood saturday, it wasn’t about anything.”

“you’re lying, jeong yunho. you forget that i know you,” you sit up, too, facing him feet apart on your mattress. he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, he wasn’t expecting you to call him out.

“you’re missing the point,” he sighs, looking down at your mattress, reining in the topic at hand. “i don’t know him, but i don’t need to. eight years of life is longer than you think, he knows a lot more than you, you just started going on dates. you don’t know anything, tiny.”

“i know enough,” you shake your head, “i know that i like him a lot and that’s enough for me.”

“so what, you want to be married within the next two years?” he looked back up to you, his face was unreadable, but his voice was firm, truthful. he meant every word he said. “miss out on being in your twenties? miss out on dating? learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things. learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?”

you blink, “is that why you’re single? experiencing life, dating around, fucking who you please because you can? sounds boring to me.” your words are curt, intended to sting. “i’d much rather learn and experience with someone, grow together as a unit.”

“be realistic, think like you’re twenty two, not like you’re still seventeen,” he bites, sending the sting right back to you. after a moment’s pause, he speaks, his voice soft. “i’m single because i’m waiting.”

“for what?” you ask, eyebrows knitted together, tears still dancing down your cheeks. “how do you know? …what you’re waiting for?”

“it’s not for what, tiny— it’s for who.”

────── ꨄ︎

“i have an idea,” chan was smiling ear to ear, you wondered if the two of you would ever pay attention to your lecture again, two weeks in a row spent talking the entire class. “me and my roommates are going to a music festival this weekend, you should come.”

your lips form a line, “chan, if this is about–”

“hear me out!” he interjects, a finger coming up between you, silencing you. you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms as he continues. “i know you’re seeing someone, but this will get jisung off my back and you can get a feel for him without making it an actual thing.”

seeing someone feels sour, you ignore it— “okay, let me hear your plan.”

“it’s a music festival, so it’s not like it’s some private, real date like going to dinner or something. you can bring your friends, i’ll be with mine, we can meet up and it can be a group thing so you have people to hangout with if you aren’t into hanji,” he raises his eyebrows with a smile as he awaited your response, “not bad, right?”

you think about it for a second– it’s not a terrible idea, and you did owe chan for your own date with him. you nod, “when is it?”

“saturday, i’ll text you the link for tickets. me and my three roommates are going, jisung jihoon and jeongin, everybody’s single,” he winks, “they’re all music people.”

“and all of their names start with J,” your eyebrows furrow, “how did you manage that?”

he shrugs, “me and jisung were roommates, jeongin and jihoon were roommates, we got an apartment together sophomore year and it just happened to be that way. i’m the only non-music major and the only one whose name doesn’t start with a J,” he brings his attention to his laptop, pulling up the website for the music festival.

“it’s all weekend long, you probably don’t want to go all weekend so just come for one day,” he says, pulling up the lineup on the screen. you scan the list and you know several artists, it seems fun, and the idea was well thought out. it wasn’t necessarily a date, but instead a place you would just happen to be at together– you would barely have to talk to jisung if you didn’t want to.

you didn’t have to tell mingyu, either— not that he’d have an issue if you did. being wednesday now, you haven’t seen him since sunday morning, and since monday night… there was no way he couldn’t tell something was off. where you were usually bubbly on the phone with him, over text, you’d turn monotonous without even realizing. the whole relationship began to feel stale after what san said, after your talk with yunho. you weren’t sure if any of your feelings were legitimate anymore.

chan texts you the link and you immediately send it to your groupchat, telling the boys to clear their schedules and to buy their tickets (you tell san to get one for you, too. he owes you). you were met with no pushback, all of the boys agreeing except ace— he was taking reia away for the weekend, using yunho’s idea.

“i’m so excited,” chan beams, scrolling through the website, “it’s really cool, we’ve gone every year since we started here. tell your friends that my roommates are single.”

“i’ve never been to a music festival before, just random concerts here and there. you’ll have to show us etiquette,” you snicker when you realize exactly what he’s implying with his roommates— you didn’t think any of your three boys had gotten any in awhile. “i will definitely let them know.”

as you walked out of class and into the brisk, october air, a certain car stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. sitting idly and illegally was a BMW pulled up beside the curb, closest to the building of your class— completely blacked out, tinted windows with a gold seventeen decal on the back window on the driver’s side… that car belonged to one person and one person only.

he stepped out of his car as soon as you walked out of the building, dressed in all black business casual attire, sunglasses on his face. you bid chan goodbye without as much as a glance, feet drifting toward mingyu so fluidly and without thought you could’ve been floating all over again. maybe he did cast a spell on you.

mingyu stepped around the vehicle to open his passenger side door, greeting you with a smile, “hey, princess.” he kissed you on the head before you slid into the seat, the smell of his cologne and fresh leather hitting your nose as he shut the door behind you.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat, putting the car into reverse. you began feeling awkward, confused, your talk with yunho came to mind again– mingyu’s presence made it too easy to forget all of your worries.

“don’t sound too excited, i’m taking you to lunch,” he shot you a tight lipped smile as he put his car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot.

“mingyu,” you breathed with a small shake of your head. you hadn’t even gotten all of your thoughts in order, you wanted to wait before you talked to him, you knew it was coming eventually— he did, too.

“don’t say anything,” he kept his gaze on the road in front of him, the sun shining through his windshield, kissing his soft, golden skin. he let his hand fall to your thigh. “just… let me do this.”

“okay,” you said, flushing as the weight of his palm hit your skin. electricity shot through you every time you were with him, every time he touched you— it had to mean something.

or did you just want it to?

he pulled into the parking lot of a diner, a small one near your campus. you loved diners, you used to go with your family growing up once a week— every sunday morning, stopping shortly after you turned twelve. your blood thrummed in excitement under your skin.

you sat in a booth, a quietness consuming the two of you, you thought maybe he didn’t know what to say— you definitely didn’t. mingyu broke the silence first.

“you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“there’s nothing to tell, nothing going on, i mean,” you barely looked up from your menu when you knew what you wanted to order in the parking lot. how do you tell someone that the only reason you’re interested in them is because you’re wired to?

he sighed, laying his menu down on the table. the waitress comes and takes your orders, leaving you to silence once again.

“the only way this is going to work is if you’re honest,” his voice is more serious than it usually is. you have nothing to hold in your hands anymore— it feels like you’re back at that expensive restaurant when mingyu first brought you on an impromptu lunch date. you feel exposed.

you run a hand through your hair, “i don’t know, mingyu.” you pause, then internally said fuck it. “you said you won’t rush anything with me, but what if i’m just holding you back?”

“how would you be holding me back?” his eyes were full of concern as he leaned forward, arms folding across the table.

“you’re thirty, ready to get married, start a family,” you shake your head, “i’m not even close to being there yet.”

“i met you two weeks ago,” a chuckle leaves his lips, trying to relieve the tension brought by your statement, “why is that on your mind?”

“you shouldn’t be wasting your time, mingyu. you’re fooling around with a twenty two year old,” your own words weren’t leaving your lips— they were yunho’s.

“fooling around?” his eyes were raised as if you insulted him. “if i was fooling around i wouldn’t have made so much of an effort. wouldn’t have cooked for you, met your family, i would’ve fucked you the day i met you and never spoken to you again.”

the gears turn in your head, he said it so simply, you knew it was to help put you at ease— it hurt instead. he continues, “i’ve been serious about you since the day you met me for lunch. i like you.”

“and what happens when you meet someone who’s ready?” you bite, your brain swirling with mingyu’s testimony but also the advice from your twin. “if your ex comes back to this side of the country, if you meet someone who doesn’t have a dead dad, someone actually meant for you.”

mingyu laughs— the chuckle was not out of amusement, it was dry and venomous and knowing. “there it is.”

“what?” you ask, shifting in the old leather booth as if you were in the hot seat.

“they got into your head, didn’t they?” he shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his face, “i knew they didn’t like me, your friends, your brother— you would never say that on your own.”

“nobody ‘got to me’, mingyu,” you argue, your fingers twisting on the table between you because they did get to you and you know that, but you think they might be right. “how do you know what i would say and wouldn’t say? like you said, we met two weeks ago.”

his face hits his palms as he sighs, they slide over his skin in frustration, “was it yunho?”

“what?” your back presses against the cushion of the booth, “was what yunho?”

the waitress brings your food to the table, halting your conversation or argument. a part of you wanted to thank her for cutting you off, you didn’t know if you wanted him to continue— not when yunho was brought into the conversation. he did, though, as soon as she walked away from the table.

he cut into his meal– “yunho doesn’t like me.”

“he has never once said that, mingyu,” you respond, cutting into your french toast. diners were best for all day breakfast.

“he doesn’t need to,” he was smiling again, not out of happiness, you couldn’t place his emotions based on his face. his words didn’t match it. “game’s game. this whole conversation is ridiculous, can’t you see that?”

“what are you talking about?” your eyebrows blend together, so furrowed in confusion you were sure you looked animated, “what am i not seeing?”

“it’s besides the point,” he pays attention to his food again, his tone laced with irritation. “i like you, i’ve been trying to be consistent with showing how much i like you— how much i want to do this the right way.”

“i understand if you think we can’t be together because of our age, because of your past, things out of your control, but i want you to know that i don’t agree. i don’t think any of that should be used to factor whether we work or not because i think we work really well.”

“i think we get along really well, too,” you said, sounding like you were the one trying to convince him now – you snapped yourself back into reality, what you felt, what you knew, not the bubble mingyu put you in. “in the long run i… mingyu i don’t know if i’m ready for all of this.”

“all of what?” he was getting frustrated now, furrowed brows and a tight jaw, “i haven’t tried to take this even one step further. are you scared of what it could turn into?”

“yes, it feels real,” you shake your head, “it feels really real.”

“in any other situation that’d be a good thing,” he takes a hand through his hair, sitting back in the booth, “maybe you’re right. too young, i guess.”

regret washes over you like a bucket of cold water, but you don’t falter in your words, reciting them from someone else’s mouth. “eight years is a lot longer than i thought it was, you know more than i do– i just started dating.”

he nods, lips pursed, but he says nothing for a few moments. you stare at him with flushed cheeks, an uneasiness sitting at the pit of your stomach. it was fight or flight, and there’s nowhere to run– literally.

“finish your meal and i’ll take you back to campus,” you couldn’t read his tone, but it was definitely not happy.

like you always did with mingyu, whether you wanted to or it was installed in you, you obeyed. you spent the rest of your meal wishing you could say something else, words at the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t find the voice to say. he paid for your meal, a gentleman until the end, and drove you back to campus.

“before you go, can i just say one thing?” he says as he turns to you, flipping his sunglasses on top of his head. you nod.

“you don’t have to listen to them,” he says and your mouth parts to speak, but he cuts you off. “you may think they know everything about you because you grew up with them, but they don’t know how you feel. they don’t know my intentions for you, they don’t know how much i like you.”

“i know you’ve been through a lot in your life and they were there for you every step of the way, but i’d treat you so fucking well. i would never pressure you into marriage, or having kids or whatever worries have been put into your pretty little brain. i’d do whatever you wanted– if you wanted to travel, i’d take you on trips, we could explore every little school on the opposite side of the world. if you wanted to open your own damn school, i’d do that with you, i’d help you. i don’t want you to walk away with the idea that i’m not the one for you— we both know this would’ve worked if you let it.”

jaw slack and eyes filled with tears, you stared at him. you blinked once, twice, then your lips were on his before you could even process that you had moved an inch.

you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.

isn’t that what this is? isn’t this what you’ve been looking for? your brain whirled, mingyu’s tongue licking into your mouth, his huge palms holding your wet cheeks.

learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things.

tears flowed down your skin, onto mingyu’s fingers, he just kissed you harder.

learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?

there was only one way this could end– you needed it to end, now, or else you’d never leave his car. you pulled away from mingyu, wide eyed and so fucking confused. you hated yourself in this moment– it felt like being pulled into your living room when mingyu was in your kitchen. being pulled towards comfort and familiarity, when what your future could be was waiting for you, missing you, hoping you’d stay.

“i’m sorry,” was all you could get out before you were pushing the car door open and racing towards your own.

────── ꨄ︎

figuring out an outfit for a music festival was hard to begin with, you had too many factors adding onto it that made the task a thousand times worse. you could barely get yourself out of bed this morning for starters, you hopped in the shower half past eleven when you needed to leave at one. because it was late october and most music festivals were held in the summer, even pinterest wasn’t helping you with inspiration. on top of that, having three men in your bedroom without a lick of a feminine fashion sense made it borderline overstimulating, they threw ideas at you while their outside clothes laid all over your unmade bed– it tipped you over the edge. the only good part was that it’s cold outside.

you went casual– you needed to, you’d be outside for hours and alcohol can only heat you up so much. baggy jeans, a hoodie and an oversized jacket on top, you accessorized with a baseball cap and some sneakers and you were set. a mini purse with nothing but your ID and some lip gloss sat on your shoulder, sunglasses on your face, you’d be warm, comfortable and cute.

when you walked downstairs to the three boys sitting in your living room, you realized you were all wearing different versions of the same outfit. you copied them without even realizing– naturally, they noticed, and had plenty to say about it. you didn’t care enough to change.

the drive to the festival wasn’t terrible, little traffic until you got closer to the venue, yunho drove with loud music playing through the speakers and the other two singing along in the backseat. when you arrived, you immediately sent a text to chan letting him know you arrived.

“i want a drink,” you said as soon as you walked through security, yunho on your left and the other two on your right. “who’s paying for it?”

“why can’t you pay for it? you should buy us drinks,” yeosang huffed, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“you’re in the clear,” you moved a little closer to yeosang, bumping your shoulder against his. “i didn’t bring money, the other two are responsible for ruining my relationship with mingyu, so they get to buy my drinks all night.”

san gasps, “i am not responsible–”

“surfside?” yunho asks, eyes already scanning the area for the nearest bar, not wanting to begin that conversation again. his figure stood over the massive crowd already formed around you, your group definitely did not get there early.

“yes, please,” a small smile sat on your face as you followed yunho towards the nearest bar, pleased with how quickly he agreed, he bought drinks for the two of you– leaving san and yeosang to fend for themselves.

san grumbles, “you should buy me a drink for how mean you’ve been.”

you point your eyes at him and he shrinks under your gaze, voice growing small as he said, “i’ll buy the next round.”

you walked through the crowd, so many different kinds of people surrounded you. a range of ages, dressed in clothes much more appropriate for a music festival than yours. the energy of the space was so bright, so welcoming, it was beckoning your mood to brighten– you wished you could let it.

you stayed close to at least one of the three, keeping your eyes peeled under your sunglasses for a blonde boy no taller than five foot eight. he was nowhere to be found, as you assumed since the venue was so massive. you walked up to the first stage, the main stage which was one you wanted to see, a small indie band. you knew some songs, but you wouldn’t know an entire setlist– the show you really wanted to see wasn’t until later.

being after three and you hadn’t ingested anything other than your morning (afternoon) coffee, the surfside you had taken about four sips of was already going straight to your head. you wore a disinterested look even though the stage was good, the band was putting on a great show, you’ve been miserable since wednesday. you missed mingyu, even if your time together was short– you figured that you might be perpetually stuck between if your choice was right or if you regret it completely.

“drummer’s hot,” yeosang comes to your side, bumping his shoulder into yours again.

you shoot him a tight lipped smile, “he’s alright.”

“bro, cheer up,” he frowns, “if you were normal you’d be drooling over him right now.”

you roll your eyes, “cheer me up instead of complaining, then.”

“where’s the whiskey date guy? aren’t we supposed to be meeting up with him?” yeosang asks and you pull out your phone from your pocket, four texts from chan filling your screen.

chan: UR HERE!!!! chan: wya

chan: hello

chan: were going to the main stage meet us there

already being at the main stage, you typed back a quick response then looked around through your shaded lenses, the blonde nowhere to be found. you nudged yunho’s side, asking him to look for chan instead, he could see a lot better than you could. as he looked out into the crowd farther than your eyes could see, chan found you first.

“hey!” you heard to your left, a voice that belonged to the one you were searching for. you whipped your head around, a genuine smile surprising you as it filled out your cheeks, waving him over.

“you found me! i just texted you back,” you said as he wrapped you into a short hug of greeting.

he stepped back, looking around you, “where are your friends?”

“here?” you said with eyebrows raised, yeosang, san and yunho coming forward to stand at your sides. “this is san, yeosang and yunho.”

“oh,” a questioning look grew on his face, then he stepped closer to you, speaking quieter so only you could hear. “when i said bring your friends, i was not expecting a bunch of…dudes?”

you giggled, “surprised i’m not with a group of girls?”

“for some reason, it explains a lot,” he shrugs and you raise your eyebrows, asking him to explain without verbalizing it. “you aren’t… shy in the way a lot of girls are, i guess, i don’t know, you talk about your relationship problems with me. plus, we’re in the same outfit.”

you look him up and down, realizing he is yet another person you’ve stolen fashion inspiration from. you smack a hand over your mouth, “oh god, you too?” giggles threaten to slip through your palm, before you shrug and say, “i’m one of the guys, i guess.”

“ew,” he physically cringes, “never say that again.”

three guys approached behind chan and you first spot jisung, the one you didn’t meet at chan’s apartment. he looked the same, a mop of brown curls sat atop his head, big, thin frames on his face, a hoodie and baggy jeans on his body. he looked just as cute as the day you first saw him, like a chipmunk you’d spot outside of your living room window on a spring day.

he wasn’t sexy, he wasn’t massively muscular, he wasn’t six foot three or thirty years old— he wasn’t mingyu. no one could be.

“these are my friends,” chan pointed to each friend as he said, “jisung, jeongin and jihoon.”

“ah, the J’s!” you introduced yourself to the three of them, your groups quickly merging to create small talk. chan stood close to you, guiding your conversation with his roommates, you talked about the festival, what bands were playing, until you settled into a layer of comfort to speak freely. the surfside was definitely helping.

you quickly realized the three boys were more reserved, unlike chan– or they were at least not comfortable enough yet to cut through san and yeosang’s voices, who were quickly dominating the conversation with chan.

“the next band playing is really good,” jihoon finally interrupts, looking around the group with a gaze which didn’t seem shy, instead calculated, like he was waiting for the right moment to speak. he was shorter than everyone, long, black hair laid over his shoulders, you could see the muscles beneath the black tee he wore, nearly masked by the black jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders. he gave the vibe that he had his shit together– clean, healthy, confident. “do you guys want to stay? who are you here to see?”

“jungle is playing later,” you reply, “on stage B i believe, at eight? i want to see them the most.”

“TV girl is playing at six,” yeosang cuts in, warm brown hair that’s gotten noticeably longer was falling over his temples now, “still woozy plays in about an hour.”

“you like still woozy?” jeongin asked yeosang, as if hearing jihoon’s voice gave him the confidence to speak up himself. the two were just about the same height, yeosang was maybe an inch taller than jeongin. his face was insane, to say the least– sharp jaw, high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes that curved up ever so slightly at the edges. he was the other one out of the four that resembled an animal in the most gorgeous way, black hair laying across his forehead that made the shadows of his face deepen further. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model, if not a fox turned human– you wondered if he had any interest in you.

“where have you been keeping them?” you say in chan’s ear, leaning closely into his side. chan chuckles, looking down at the ground, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie.

“i keep them locked in their rooms, they’re only allowed out during feeding time,” he jokes, a wide smile on his face, voice turning to a hushed whisper as he says, “stop ogling them, jisung will get jealous.”

“then jisung should do something about it,” you retort as you bring your gaze back to the group– jisung couldn’t see who you were looking at anyways, you still had your sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose.

“let him get a few more drinks in him, he will,” chan nods nonchalantly as he looks away from you. you rolled your eyes under the shades– you didn’t care either way, but the outright admittance of jisung needing alcohol to talk to you rubbed you the wrong way.

your group travels to another stage, watching a different group play while waiting for still woozy to start their performance. jisung trailed behind the group with jihoon, the two seemed to be a pair so far, then yeosang, san and jeongin had split off to the side. you walked between yunho and chan, three quarters of your surfside had already heated you up enough to where the bite of the air was more of a light nibble on your cheeks.

“i need another,” you said in san’s direction, wiggling your can that had little liquid left in it.

san frowns, “already?”

you threw the last bit of liquid back, swallowing it quickly, and handed it to san. “yes, please.”

he grabs the can from your hands and turns to the group, wearing a look of irritation even if he doesn't care at all– he’ll let the act go on for as long as he deems necessary. drama queen. “anyone else need another?”

chan and his roommates hadn’t gotten drinks yet, and yeosang needed a refill– leaving you alone with yunho, where you stood watching the random band playing on the stage.

“the curly headed one is interested in you,” yunho comments without looking at you, voice flat as he brings his beer to his lips to take a sip. it should catch you off guard how quickly he noticed without you and jisung having any interactions so far, but you were done with being inside yunho’s head.

you let out a sound of amusement instead, “and?”

“just letting you know,” he looks down at you, “it seems you know already.”

you shoot him a pointed look before turning back to the stage, the two of you falling into silence. your stomach grows warm, the drink you’d already chugged down had begun fulfilling its purpose– warming you up first and foremost, helping you forget how miserable you’d become second.

“i don’t know what to say to you to make things better,” yunho admits, keeping his focus on the band. his mouth twists to one side, discomfort sitting on his features, you two hadn’t really spoken since wednesday.

you came home the day you ended things with mingyu in tears, anger replacing every atom in your body as if you’d become a pot overflowing with boiling water– you lost it, all of your feelings were directed at both san and yunho. they were sitting on the couches in your living room, completely blindsided when you decided they alone were responsible for how your relationship with mingyu ended. both boys had fought you on it.

ace didn’t have it in him to mediate your argument, he had his own relationship issues to work through, instead he and yeosang watched the three of you yell at each other for minutes until you fully broke down. not once did either of them tell you to make up with mingyu, to reconsider their words, but instead they consoled you for the two week long relationship you were clearly grieving– it pissed you off even more.

after you had time to process the argument, you realized all you wanted was their approval– you wanted them to tell you to get back with him, you wanted them to like him as much as you did, as much as you do. for three days now you've been sitting with your anger, only giving curt responses around your house, spending most of your time in your bedroom, you considered not even coming today.

you needed to get out– you needed a boyfriend before thanksgiving.

“there’s nothing for you to say,” you shrug, then cross your arms over your chest. “even if i reached out to him now, i don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything other than an immature twenty two year old. it’s done.”

he sips his beer again. ��you are an immature twenty two year old.” you snap your gaze up at him, ready to bite back, but he continues. “that’s what you’re supposed to be, this is how it should be.”

a dry laugh escapes you, one that lets him know there was nothing funny at all. “how it should be? at a music festival waiting for a guy to get the balls to speak to me?”

he speaks through an exhale, “at least this guy is your age, tiny.”

you step to the side, giving yourself space from him, not wanting to slip into a fit of anger and ruin the day for everyone, you know you will if you continue the conversation. your mind whirls as you keep your gaze locked on the stage, not hearing one beat of the drum nor a single strum of the guitar, ears ringing as you try to calm yourself down.

“i’m sorry,” he says as he steps closer, his voice quiet, only for your ears. “i didn’t think you’d be this hurt, i guess.”

“i came home bawling my eyes out and screamed at you,” you said, baffled, not fully believing him. you hadn’t argued over anything more serious than what you were having for dinner in years. “you didn’t think it hurt?”

“i’ll stop meddling,” he pulls his lips together, forming a tight line. you see the group of boys returning to where you stood from behind yunho, drinks in tow, you turn to face the stage again.

“you won’t have the chance to meddle again, i learned my lesson for good,” you say flatly, and he sighs. the sigh was both long and loud, he was truly defeated– he didn’t know how to handle you. you couldn’t comprehend why he felt the need to in the first place.

“we should head to stage C,” chan says as soon as he returns, san right on his tail to hand you your drink. you were grateful yunho didn’t have the time to continue the conversation. you slap a smile on your face and thank him for the drink before asking chan who’s playing at stage C.

chan smirks, “weezer.”

“oh, brother,” you laugh, “let’s go.”

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if you were starting to have a good time, but the time you spent watching weezer while you waited for still woozy to come on seemed to break up the dark cloud looming above you. chan stayed close, he was bleeding positive energy that you didn’t know if he was pushing onto you on purpose, or if it was just him. either way, the smile that sat on your face became more and more genuine, less forced as time went by.

by the time you made it to still woozy’s set, you were past the level of comfortably warm and leaning towards hot. you stopped at the bar again after weezer, you were just tipsy enough to buy all eight of you a round of shots– the plan was not to get drunk, but that seemed to be the direction the day was going in, who were you to stop it?

just before the set began, jeongin and yeosang had pulled your group by the wrists to fight through the crowd and get as close to the front as you could. you let yunho and san guide you into the mass of people, two walls of muscle and height to give you a path, the crowd didn’t bother you one bit. your smile was more than genuine now, you couldn’t wipe it off your face– this was a music festival, seeing bands you never would’ve thought of buying tickets for, a group of people gathered in one place that enjoyed the same music as you. you were already thinking of going to more.

swaying side to side, singing a song you’d heard on repeat in yeosang’s car at the top of your lungs, you almost didn’t catch the eyes that couldn’t leave you. attached to a mop of curly brown hair, behind massive lenses, a gaze of chocolate brown accompanied by a small smile seemed entranced by you. you smiled back when you noticed, then turned your head back to the band– jisung took that as an invitation.

walking up beside you, jisung didn’t say anything at first. his head nodded along to the song, curls bouncing across his forehead, fingers wrapped around a plastic cup. with a stomach full of vodka, you were almost excited– you wanted to encourage him, give him the confidence, tell him to say something.

but you didn’t– and jisung still said nothing after the entire song.

after the song ended, there was a moment of silence amongst the crowd, the inbetween waiting for the next song to play. you glanced around for your friends– yeosang and jeongin were mid conversation, yeosang’s body leaned into jeongin’s but not quite touching, his body language saying you weren’t the only one who found jeongin attractive. damn.

yunho and jihoon stood behind everyone, the height difference between the two almost made you giggle, where san and chan stood next to them. the four weren’t speaking, but holding their drinks and watching the performance instead, all shooting you a warm look when you caught their eyes.

you turned to jisung, “can you do me a favor?” he nodded, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “can you hold my drink while i take my jacket off, please?”

he nodded again and you handed him your can, slightly struggling to get your jacket off over your sleeves. when you got it off, you threw it over your forearm, and jisung handed you your can back.

“do you, uh– want me to hold your jacket?” he asked, his eyes wide and sparkling– his tone seemed unsure of his own words, but he still said them.

“no, no, don’t worry about it,” you beamed, “thank you.”

as the next song started to play, a few strums of the guitar woke up the crowd, screams erupting around you. one of the screams had come from yeosang, who had his hands shaped in an oval around his mouth, making his yell that much louder.

you giggled and turned back to jisung who was also smiling in yeosang’s direction, “he really likes still woozy.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” he says sarcastically, his smile never dropping. “you seem to like them, too.”

“i do, but not as much as yeo. he should be up at the barricade,” you point your chin in the direction of the front of the stage.

“i think jeongin should go with him,” jisung shrugs, “they seem to be a pair.”

“by the end of the night someone will have to rip yeo off of him,” you joke, and jisung laughs. a soft chuckle, but you sense a wall come down, another shred of confidence popping through his reserved demeanor. you smile.

“what about you?” jisung asks, eyes still moon-shaped, as if he was scared to ask the question.

your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, “what about me?”

“chan said you had a boyfriend, he isn't here?” jisung’s lips form a line as if he was scared to hear the answer, your face immediately mimics his, but for an entirely different reason. you didn’t think jisung knew about mingyu, unless chan filled him in and didn’t tell you. you hadn’t filled chan in on the recent developments concerning mingyu, either.

“i don’t have a boyfriend, i’m not seeing anyone,” you shake your head and turn to the stage. jisung felt the shift in mood, stepping forward, into your view.

“sorry if i overstepped,” he shook his head, “chan said–”

“chan didn’t know, doesn’t know, you're fine,” you give him a weak smile, and the conversation runs flat. you took the last swig of your surfside– you needed this feeling gone, as if mingyu never happened in the first place.

“do you want another drink?” jisung asks as soon as the can leaves your lips, “my treat.”

you give him a singular nod, and before you could process it, jisung was leading you through the pack of people. you didn’t tell a soul where you were going, you walked right through the wall of boys as if they were waiting for you to run off with jisung. where the crowd was more condensed, jisung took a pause, making you stop in your tracks behind him.

“gimme this,” he muttered as he grabbed your jacket and your empty can, then took your hand with his free one. “stay close to me.”

your cheeks flushed as you nodded, the heat that was already consuming your entire being only grew in temperature. maybe he’s the type that’s only shy at first. your eyes stayed trained on your linked fingers, his hands were soft, calluses on the tips of his fingers that laid over your knuckles.

“do you play guitar?” you asked as you made it to the outskirts of the crowd, jisung took a pause that had you flipping his hand over, inspecting the tougher skin atop his fingers.

“uh— yes,” you glance up, his cheeks pink, the ends of his curls lying along the frames of his glasses. “i make music, i’m studying composing, songwriting, all that stuff.”

“chan told me,” you smile as you let his fingers go, nearing the feeling of cuteness aggression the more you look at him. all you could muster was a breathy “that’s cool”.

his smile grew and he tugged on your hand again, rough fingertips laid on your knuckles once more as he pulled you towards the bar. behind it was a man who you, at first, couldn’t believe was a bartender— black hair that touched his broad shoulders, a slender figure with a muscular structure that seemed too curated for bartending to be his career. a black long sleeve shirt clung to every inch of him, baggy jeans that hung loose on his hips, an outfit you’d definitely be taking inspiration from.

his face was nothing short of beautiful, plump lips, a white smile that sparkled when he asked what you’d be drinking.

jisung turned to you with an eyebrow raised, a questioning look. you cleared your throat, “a surfside, please.”

“miller, please,” jisung nodded towards him and the bartender shot you another smile before he was opening your cans. you were mesmerized as he grabbed the bar key with nimble fingers, cracking the tab with practiced movements, a speed that told you maybe this was his full time career.

jisung paid as promised and you took your time making it back to stage C happily with small talk and a lazy stride, choosing to hang at the back of the crowd instead of fighting towards the middle where you stood before.

jisung’s presence had enveloped your mind quicker than you thought it would, once you broke the ice it was easier to talk to him, speaking as freely as you would with someone who’d been your friend way longer than just a day. you didn’t talk of anything personal, not school, your family, your friends, your interests, your intentions, but instead small talk that came too easily, standing close while you swayed to goodie bag.

it was comfortable— it wasn’t forced, it wasn’t staged, it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t even obvious that jisung was interested in you, there were no pickup lines, no quick-witted flirting, yet you knew and you might even like it. maybe what you need right now is simplicity.

when your friends came out of the crowd in laughter and giddy smiles, you felt lighter, the energy around you felt brighter, the air felt clearer, you almost forgot you walked into the venue miserable. with TV girl playing shortly at another stage, there was no time to stand and talk, you and jisung quickly slipped into the crowd of your friend group mid-conversation as if you never ran off in the first place.

“what’s your guys’ favorite song?” yeosang asked the group, bouncing on his feet as you approached the already formed crowd, jeongin at his side.

“the whole french exit album,” you were first to answer. “birds don’t sing, louise, lover’s rock, the blonde.”

“tiny’s a romantic,” you heard san announce, and it brings a smile to your face— whether it was sarcasm or a dig you didn’t care, maybe now you were a romantic. “i only know lover’s rock.”

“tiny?” jisung asks, turning to you, an eyebrow raised. “that’s you?”

“unfortunately,” you nod, “been tiny since the womb, practically.”

“fitting,” jisung smacks his lips together and flattens his brows in contemplation then quickly to understanding— you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed.

jihoon turns to chan, “you listen to TV girl a lot, right?”

chan nods towards him, “you should know more than lover’s rock, i play their music all the time at home. better in the dark?” he glances around to empty stares, he raises his eyebrows with expectancy and sings, “the lighter makes a spark, but i look better in the dark.”

jisung, jihoon and jeongin all simultaneously release a dragged out “oh” in remembrance, and chan rolls his eyes. he turns to you, “they don’t remember shit. too much weed, they smoke.”

you giggle, then tilt your head to the side, an idea coming to mind. “did anyone bring any?”

jihoon shoots you a lazy smile, “of course i did, you smoke?”

you shake your head, “not particularly, but i’m down to.”

jihoon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet, several joints tucked into one of the folds. he plucks one out, wasting no time as he holds it between his fingers, your group tightens its circle around jihoon as if he was holding gold.

yunho eyed you from the opposite side of the circle, where you were standing between chan and jisung, he was between san and jihoon. his eyes were observing, debating, a pointed look that forced you to notice it. you shrugged him off, smoking at a music festival just felt right— you didn’t want or need him to parent you, even if you had been drinking already.

jihoon was quick to light the twisted end of the joint, the red hot flame of his black lighter was enough to color all of your faces an amber hue. you stood like kids, huddled around jihoon like he had a secret to tell, where he took three puffs of the joint to get it burning. your eyes widened as you watched his technique, how he blew on the end of the joint to keep it burning evenly, pink lips tightened to a perfect O shape– a gorgeous sight.

the circle opens up as you begin passing, a sweet melody in your ear and a pungent smell in your nose, forcing your body into moving to the beat. jisung, beside you, sways his hips in the same motion as yours, a fit of giggles erupting from your lungs as you move in unison. too focused on jisung, you didn’t realize chan was holding the joint out to you.

you inhaled slowly, you hadn’t smoked since the last time you were at the frats, that had been months ago. you knew the basics, you kept your hits of the joint small, especially since you had a few drinks in you, you were never really a smoker. socially, in the kitchen of a massive frat house, or on the balcony of the only person you consistently hooked up with at school, that only lasted just shy of a month.

the burn in your lungs and the cough that fought to break through your lips felt nostalgic, you felt so light you could float up to the clouded night sky. immediately immersed into a sense of calm, like stepping into a bath of warm water, you smiled as you passed the joint to jisung. every bone in your body told you you needed that.

your ears perked to the conversation happening around you, yeosang, san and jeongin in some sort of debate, the joint had made its way to yunho by now. you could feel everything slow down, your eyes hooding, sitting at half mast just from two hits.

“ah,” jisung tilts his head back in delight, “that strain fucks, hoon.” you couldn’t stop the small giggle from leaving you at fucks.

jihoon smiles, confident as ever, “right?” he looks around the group before he adds, “i grew it myself.”

san’s jaw drops as he takes the joint from yunho, “you grow it?”

“right in my backyard,” jihoon nods, “it’s better that way.”

you check out of the conversation, your focus back on the crowd, not a thought in your brain, yet instead paying attention to the hues of blue and pink that lay over the crowd like blankets. you could see backs of heads and nothing more, shaded eyes not quite reaching the stage, but the light show that cascaded over the mass of people was enough.

you almost didn’t notice the presence next to you, you hadn’t even realized you moved, as jisung planted his feet directly next to yours, your neck nearly snapped up in surprise.

“so pretty,” he says, eyes glazed over as they stared out into the crowd, his thoughts probably matched yours.

“the lights?” you asked, flipping your sunglasses atop your head so you could see clearer.

“you mainly,” he looks down to you and you meet his eyes, not missing the pink that kissed his cheeks, “but yeah, i guess the lights, too.”

your own cheeks flush– this was the first he was showing interest. you smile through a giggle, “that was smooth, jisung.”

“wanna get closer?” he asks you, reaching for your hand again before you had a moment to answer.

as he pulled you along, you asked, “are you sure you don’t want to keep smoking?”

he looks over his shoulder and it nearly takes your breath away, he’s so cute you think you’d follow him around all night, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. as if he’d go anywhere with you, as if he didn’t care about anything else, you saw his feelings in his eyes. he was into you. he smiles, “do you?”

“let’s go,” you nod your head and pull your sunglasses over your eyes again, headed behind jisung into the crowd that was packed like sardines. mumbles of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ left him as he cut through people, keeping you close to him with a firm grip on your hand, you could feel the calluses on your knuckles so much more.

when you made it somewhat towards the middle, a pocket of space amongst the crowd, jisung finally stopped and turned to you for approval. you put your sunglasses atop your head again, tucking your hair behind your ears, your view was so much better now.

the music was louder, the lights were clearer, now it was just you and jisung– you weren’t sure if you were at the festival anymore or if you were up in the clouds. the only thing that could make this better would be if you could actually see the stage. you wish yunho had followed you.

as if he heard your thoughts, jisung’s voice was loud when he asked, “can you see?”

you shook your head, “the lights are so pretty, it doesn’t even matter.”

“you're going to think i’m crazy, don’t think i'm crazy,” he prefaces, bracing himself for rejection with a shy smile, “do you want to get on my shoulders?”

you laugh in disbelief, loudly, looking at him with wide eyes and jaw slack. he raises his eyebrows, “you’re tiny, right?”

“i am tiny but not like that,” you wave your free hand in front of you, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

he rolls his eyes with a cocky smile, “if you could see what was under the hoodie you wouldn’t be saying that.”

your eyes widen impossibly further, that was the last thing you expected to leave his lips. a smirk appears on your own, “oh, now you’re confident, huh?”

“is it working?”

“maybe.”

“then get on,” he squats down, your jacket still folded over his forearm but he’s careful not to let it touch the ground. you suck in a breath– this could go one of two ways, especially since you both drank and smoked, either you’ll have an incredible view or everyone will watch you fall to the dirt.

fuck it.

you swing a denim covered leg around his neck, slightly hopping up to straddle his nape. you giggle as you do, the action was almost sobering, the amount of focus it took you to balance. as he stood up your hands flew to his curls, the only thing you could think to grab onto to steady yourself, a slew of apologies leaving your lips after you accidentally tugged.

“jisung!” you yelled, “i didn’t know what else to grab.”

you could hear the shake of his shoulders as he laughed beneath your thighs, “i could make a terrible joke right now, but i’m not going to.”

it takes you a moment to catch on, but when you do, you laugh. “nothing but a man.”

“a man that has you on his shoulders,” he bites back, “enjoy the show.”

you finally looked up and the stage was finally clear– shrouded in blue light, the members visible, the music so loud– it was nothing short of exhilarating. the thought crosses your mind that maybe this was what yunho was talking about, being in your twenties and experiencing, you don’t know if you would have ever made it onto mingyu’s shoulders in the crowd of a TV girl concert. you guess you’ll never know, and for the first time since wednesday, the thought didn’t fill you with dread - you supposed you have vodka and weed to thank.

instead you screamed– an excited scream, for the band, for the show, for how fucking good their music is. definitely high, more than a little drunk and nearly seven feet in the air, you were positive your night couldn’t get any better. there was nothing better than this.

“hey!” you heard from beneath you, stealing your attention fully. jisung turns to the side, which turns you to the side, your entire friend group beneath you with wide grins and red, glossed over eyes.

“hey guys!” you yelled back, your smile reaching ear to ear, “i’m up here!”

“we see you,” yeosang is smiling, “how’s the view?”

“incredible,” you’re gleaming, “this is so fucking cool!”

san, yeosang and yunho all watch you with soft eyes, warmth in their bodies, you could read their emotions from their faces— superpowers only granted to those who have been friends for two decades. the other three boys stared at you with something like surprise on their faces, for that you could only guess what for, and you didn’t have the brain power to think that deeply about anything right now. you caught chan and yunho locking eyes, yunho shooting chan a dry nod as if to say ‘i told you so’.

you cocked your head to the side for a moment before the thought was gone. you take a sip from your surfside, this one going down much slower than the last ones, and ask the group, “do we have any more weed?”

“i don’t think you need any more,” san says through an amused smile, with a small shake of his head. he was done being a drama queen. “you’ll fall off the boy’s shoulders.”

“yunho’s here,” you shrug, “he’ll catch me. did you guys know yunho is actually spiderman?” a fit of giggles slips through your lips, your head falling back in laughter. it throws your balance off, making jisung take a step back, and the whole six of them lunge forward. you grab onto jisung’s curls again, stabilizing yourself, “whoa, sorry, i’m getting too comfortable up here.”

“you should get down,” yunho says with concern as the group walks forward, making something like a crowd around you and jisung without it being obvious it’s to catch you if you fall. “you’re fucked up, teens, you’ll fall.”

“boo,” you frown, throwing a thumbs down in yunho’s direction. “i like it up here. did you forget you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore?”

yunho’s jaw tightens, his eyebrows flattening. he chooses not to answer, instead yeosang steps in, saying your actual name in a warning tone.

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded, “i just wanna watch the show.”

you bring your attention back to the stage, one hand in jisung’s hair, mindlessly twirling chocolate covered curls around your finger as the other hand brings your surfside back to your lips. you missed the way yeosang, san and yunho shared a look, how the three of them began to realize where tonight was headed, none of them looking forward to it.

when TV girl’s set ended you were back on the ground, staying close to jisung’s side as you walked toward stage B, excitement flooding you that jungle was next.

“i can’t wait,” you bounced next to jisung, a wide smile on your face, “do you like jungle?”

“love jungle,” he nodded, “back on 74? banger.”

“my favorite is i’ve been in love,” you beam, “i know every word, i think there was a three day period where all i listened to was that song.”

“three days of one song?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows and eyes that looked like the moon hung above you, full and bright, “i would lose my mind.”

“we listen to music differently, though,” you counter, “i bet you hear a bunch of stuff i don’t. how it’s made, background stuff, lyrics, i just like it when a song sounds good.”

he smiles, “music’s heard differently by everyone, that’s the cool thing about it. i couldn’t live without it.”

you groan, “a world without music?” you emphasized your words dramatically, hopefully to humor the boy who knew more about music than you ever would, “that’s called hell.”

he laughs loudly, hunching forward a bit to catch his mouth with his hand, “i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

“i’m serious!” you laugh too, accidentally stepping over your foot and bumping into his side, “sorry. but i am serious, i couldn’t live in a world where music didn’t exist.”

you step into the line for the bar without even thinking or discussing that you would, you didn’t know where everyone else had gone. something about the food trucks by the main entrance.

“have you been friends with them for a long time?” jisung asks, moving in front of you, and your eyes glaze over his figure. his clothes fit him so nicely, his hoodie perfectly oversized, jeans lying over the laces of his sneakers at just the right spot. “you seem like you’ve been friends forever.”

“ever since i can remember, they’ve been in my life,” you nod with a smile, head tilting to the side. your eyes felt heavy. “they’re my brothers, basically.”

“i only have one older brother,” his lips form a tight smile, “must be nice to have three.”

“four,” you correct him, stepping forward in line, “i have an actual brother, he’s my twin.”

“and you’re all friends?”

“our parents are close friends, so naturally we are, too,” you nod. wanting to change the subject, with a devilish smile you ask, “should we get shots?”

jisung lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, “can you handle shots?”

“i fear i might need shots,” you say through a breath, you felt like you were slowing down. if you slowed down any further, the sadness would creep back in. “i’ll get this round.”

he looks at you inquisitively, like he wanted to ask but didn’t know if he should. instead he waves you off and says, “nah, i’ll get them, if you need one so badly.”

you smile and lightly slap his bicep, “now you’re making me sound like an alcoholic, it’s just been a tough week.”

he nods as you step forward again, one group in front of you in line. “i can understand that, this is good timing, then. the festival, and me.”

your head snaps up to look at him like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling over your words, “no– i–”

“don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head, “let’s just have fun.”

you take a second to close your mouth, and nod with a weak smile. he orders you tequila shots and hard liquor drinks this time– go big or go home, his words. as you sipped through a tiny straw on your way back to stage B, you realized he was right, shots and a drink drink were much needed– go big or go home, indeed. your brain was even foggier as you approached the dark stage, jungle wasn’t playing just yet, but you could see small shadows of people setting up the stage from the back of the crowd.

“should we go up there?” you ask jisung, referring to the crowd, slurring your words ever so slightly.

the corner of his lips lifted up into a smile, his eyes glossed over just like your own, he’s keeping up with you. “i think we should definitely go up there.”

fingers linked again, pressing through bodies in the crowd, the rest of your friends weren’t a thought in your brain. a wide smile on your face, all you could think was jisung and jungle. he was the perfect person to rip you out of whatever funk you were in.

jisung got you both closer than you’d been the entire time you were at the festival, it was condensed but not as packed as the first twenty rows of people– you still had wiggle room. he tugged on your hand to bring you even closer to the stage, but you didn’t feel like being a sardine, you had pulled his back to keep you both in the spot you deemed perfect. he’d pulled his phone out to take a picture of the stage, most likely to send to one of his friends to let them know where you were, but you kept your phone in your purse, selfishly hoping they wouldn’t find you. you just wanted to be, here with jisung, watching the show together.

as the lights came on, screams erupted from around you, also from you and jisung. the crowd collapsed inward, pushing you into the people in front of you– a meek yelp left your lips as people behind you pushed into you. jisung was quick to grab your wrist and pull you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your front over your shoulders, laying one wrist over another in front of you.

you tilt your head up, fear still lingering in your eyes from almost getting crushed, “thank you.”

he gave you a tight lipped smile and you swooned. his hoodie was so soft, so warm, his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. your back pressed to his front, your head laid back on his chest right under his chin, your fuzzy brain wouldn’t let you stop smiling. jungle opened with back on 74 and both you and jisung sang along with the rest of the crowd, swaying side to side, your heads tilted upward to watch the stage.

you weren’t careful of how much you leaned into him, you couldn’t, that power left you a drink and a shot ago. you completely relied on jisung’s strength to keep you held up as you relinquished the little core strength you had, your fingers on one hand gripping your jacket laid on his forearm, the other holding your drink. his body was sturdy, strong, it felt good pressed against you. your lips stretched to one side, the alcohol was hitting you more than you thought it would– from how often you’d been getting laid, you’d worked up something like a routine with your body, and here jisung was.

“you comfortable?” he asked in your ear, deep voice sending vibrations through your entire body.

you answered with a mhm that came deep in your soul, you were more than comfortable– you wanted him.

your mind travelled as jungle played through their setlist, three songs deep now, you began to wonder if jisung wanted you, too. you tested the waters, pressing your back into him a little harder, but he stayed solid. you rolled your head to the side, let your fingers travel up and down his cotton clad arm, humming along to the song playing.

his hands finally moved, fingers traveling down to your waist, to your hips, moving with you. a smile grew on your lips as you kept swaying to the music, body still pressed against him– you should be embarrassed with the amount of people around you, they could be watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips were moving on jisung. the thought was fleeting, you didn’t care– jisung, wanted you, too, that’s all that mattered.

jisung and jungle.

his head came down to reach your ear again, “you know what you’re doing, right?”

you smiled, an innocent one that he couldn’t see, “you said let’s have fun.”

he laughed from behind you, a quick chuckle that had your neck bending to look up at him. his smile was intoxicating if you weren’t already, his lips so pink and plump, you wondered what they tasted like. he caught your eyes, seeming like he could read your mind, but he caught your eyes as they dipped down to his mouth and back up at his own. that only meant one thing.

something unreadable crossed his face before he was leaning down, attaching his lips to yours. his speed took you by surprise, as if he mentally said fuck it, but you were even quicker to reciprocate. opening your mouth ever so slightly you deepened the kiss, warmth spreading across your body, momentarily giving you reprieve before the awkward angle and the urge to have more of him consumed you.

your drink fell to the dirt before your hands came up to cup his cheeks, body completely turning to face him so that your front pressed to his instead. his hands came to your hips again, planted firmly against your jeans, the tips of cold pinkies slipping underneath your hoodie, the chill of his fingers making you shiver.

it was electric– it was exactly what you needed. your favorite band playing in the background, kissing a boy you’d only met today, this is what yunho was talking about. this was being twenty two, living, experiencing, doing things for the fuck of it… you were starting to hate when he was right.

“hey,” he said between kisses, making you pull away, catching your breath. a hand came up to wipe at your wet bottom lip as he pressed his curl covered forehead against yours, your breaths still coming out uneven. his eyes were darker, even more glazed over, you wondered how that was even possible. he smiled, that same smile that just did you in moments prior, “i like you.”

you didn’t miss a beat as you said, “then keep kissing me,” and found his lips again.

he took a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head back, tongue slipping through your lips. you moaned, not a care in the world for the people around you. you would’ve asked him to take you in a port a potty if you weren’t interrupted a moment after.

“damn,” you wouldn’t have bat an eye if it didn’t come from a voice you recognized. chan was giggling as he got closer to you, “i don’t know how we even recognized you, if you got any closer you might’ve merged into one.”

you literally jumped, cheeks flushing as if you were a child getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. chan wore the widest smirk on his red cheeks and you couldn’t help but scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. a grumble left your lips, “cockblocker.”

following him were the rest of the boys one by one, slipping through spaces in the crowd to take their places around you as if they’d been searching for you. out of breath, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you and jisung took a step closer to one another again. you caught his eye, he wore the same look you did– horny, frustrated, disappointed.

after your shared look you bit your lip out of annoyance, then your eyebrows shot to your hairline as you brought your empty palms out in front of you. you looked up to jisung, “where did my drink go?!”

jisung threw his head back in laughter before he pointed to the ground, your now empty cup crushed and covered in dirt. you pouted, “i dropped it?”

“you don’t even remember?” he was still giggling, hand covering his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“here,” chan said, pushing his cup into your hand– whiskey, neat. you stared at the cup in your hand, face immediately falling, eyebrows furrowing and not because you didn’t like whiskey. you looked back up to chan and his eyes widened, hand lurching forward to grab it from your hands. “my bad, i’m sorry, ohmygod.”

another drink replaced its spot in your hand, a surfside, freshly cracked, still cold. you looked up to yunho in front of you, the one who put it in your hands, and he gave you a warm smile. “better, right?”

“much, thank you,” a smile replaced your frown as you took a sip, body whipping around to watch jungle again. a heavy hand rested on your shoulder, yunho standing directly behind you.

he bent down to your ear, much like how jisung did minutes ago, his voice lowered as he said, “pretend we’re not even here.”

you thanked him with your eyes, body moving before you could process it, skipping to your spot in front of jisung again, where he immediately laid his arms over your shoulders. you hung your head forward, looking around for your group, jeongin and yeosang were holding hands now, san and chan standing too close for that to be nothing, yunho and jihoon silently watching the band.

you smiled to yourself– despite being annoyed by their interruption, chan damn near pulling you off of jisung, you liked this. you liked chan’s friends being with yours, a blend of people you never would’ve expected hanging out, and enjoying it on top of it all. you wouldn’t mind if you did this more.

as the familiar tune of i’ve been in love reverberates throughout the crowd, you gasp. “jisung!” you exclaim, your smile massive as you look up at him, “they’re playing it!”

he beams, eyes full of warmth as he looks down at you, “they knew you were here.”

you start rapping along, head leaning back onto jisung’s chest. to your surprise, he raps along with you, the two of you going word for word with the band. you looked up to him with shock written all over your face, the two of you getting louder as realization set in, as the song continued. you couldn’t help the stupid smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face, not that you tried– not that you even wanted to try.

as the song nears its end, you thought over yunho’s words again. pretend we’re not even here.

if they weren’t here, you never would’ve stopped kissing jisung– you already missed his lips on yours. you tilted your head up, doe eyes to doe eyes, jisung was already staring back down at you. you smiled as you glanced down to his lips, a question on your own, one you didn’t have to ask because he wanted it, too.

warm and soft, already slick with his spit, you could focus on how he felt this time instead of your drunken need overpowering your senses. with newfound clarity, the outcome was just as damning, getting lost in jisung’s lips was just as easy as the first time. keeping a loose hold on your can, you swung your body to face him without breaking the kiss, your other arm wrapping around his shoulder.

“you’re so hot,” he mumbles into your lips, hands traveling up to your waist, beneath your hoodie. a chill racked through you as a soft noise left your lips, too gone to answer, too lost in the way he made you feel, the temperature of his fingertips against your skin.

“leave with us, stay over tonight,” a statement that was also a question, jisung’s voice was heavy, a depth to it told you he needed you just as bad.

“maybe,” you kissed him again, your voice airy, not here nor there. your surroundings had left you— it was only you and jisung in that moment, that’s all you cared about. you couldn’t think about after, you couldn’t think about mere minutes from now, all you could think was how you never wanted his lips to leave yours.

you missed how yunho watched from his peripherals, how his eyebrows flattened, how his lips formed to a thin line. he couldn’t focus on the band in front of him, he knew you loved them, which made him love them, too, yet you weren’t even paying attention. yunho was dumbfounded— with you, with himself, with his own emotions— he didn’t know what to do.

after decades of knowing you, his bright eyed, favorite girl, he didn’t think there was this much of you left to figure out. he’s watched you grow up, he himself grew up alongside you, he’s seen you through every phase, every change, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this one.

random hookups throughout high school, college, none of that actually mattered— you already consumed his mind day and night, but after you started dating, he picked himself apart piece by piece, hoping to realize what you didn’t see in him.

yunho looked to his left, yeosang was kissing jeongin now. that didn’t take him by surprise.

yunho looked to his right, san was looking at chan with a hunger yunho had never seen in his eyes before. that should've been more surprising than it was.

in front of the two boys were you and jisung, that made yunho want to crawl out of his skin. he saw you kissing him moments prior, he even told you to do so in other words, for a moment yunho thought maybe he was a masochist. a glutton for pain, for torture, whatever this feeling was as he stared at you, eyes closed, fingers tangled in that boy’s hair.

yunho had to let go. he’d already fucked up, he’d already let too many of his feelings slip through the reins of his self restraint, he’s already endured you screaming in his face once, he’d die before he hurt you enough to do it again. he told himself this is just another phase, another change, you’ll come out of it smarter, more experienced, different. he can’t help but be a little scared that you’ll actually succeed in finding a boyfriend.

as your face detaches from jisung’s to take a breather, yunho can see your glazed over eyes, your expression that read all of nothing, you’d been drinking for hours now without a morsel of food in your stomach. he’s seen you drunk, hammered, hurled over a toilet for hours on end— but you looked happy, which you haven’t in days, yunho didn’t want to interrupt but he didn’t want you throwing up in the dirt, either.

yunho was at a crossroads. as jungle wrapped up their set and you unwrapped yourself from jisung’s embrace, your face changed, the knit of your eyebrow told him something wasn’t right. he was quick on his feet, two long strides had him at your side, asking you what’s wrong.

“i dunno,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, your free hand coming up to your face, cold palm pressed against your hot cheek. even through your mask of inebriation, he knew that look, he could read it all over you— this wasn’t about the boy, this was about mingyu.

“let’s go home,” yunho bent down, level with your face to look into your eyes, he could see the tears before they formed. it put a knot in his stomach.

“okay,” your voice was strained, raw. yunho felt like he’d been punched in the gut. he should've told you not to smoke, especially after drinking so much, he shouldn’t have brought you that last drink— he should’ve warned you that drinking wouldn’t fix anything.

he looked up to jisung whose eyes were wide, eyebrows raised in confusion and concern. his voice was raised in pitch as he asked, “is she okay?”

yunho nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed to say she’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. your face hit his chest and he wished he could physically stop his heartbeat from quickening. years of loving you, spending time with you, being close to you, touching you— he always reacted the same.

chan bounced over, worry in his voice, “hey, hey, hey,” he placed his hand on your back and it took every ounce of strength yunho had to not pull you away, but since chan is your friend, he’d allow it. chan leaned closer, “you okay?”

you picked your head up to look at him, yunho couldn’t see your face but the look on chan’s told him enough, his eyebrows furrowed even further with worry. “did jisung—”

“no,” you sniffed, “it’s not jisung, just needa go home,” you slurred, shaking your head, “drank too much.”

chan, who had heard the whole story from san earlier while waiting in line for the bar, looked up to yunho in understanding. for only knowing you a short time, he seemed to know a lot about you. yunho didn’t have the time to dissect the thought.

yunho lifted his head up, yeosang and san already looking at him, at you, concern living in the crinkle between their eyebrows. yeosang stepped forward and yunho shook his head, knowing you’d be mortified in the morning if this became a bigger deal than it needed to be.

“you ready to go home?” yunho tipped his chin upward in the direction of his two friends, keeping you tucked under his elbow in front of him.

san and yeosang nodded silently, he watched as yeosang pecked jeongin goodbye, as san began walking away without another word to chan. for you, they’d do anything, they’d drop anything— it didn’t matter.

“will you guys be okay getting home?” chan asked yunho, shoulders back, chin tilted up.

“yeah, you?” yunho answered, already turning on his heel, barely giving chan time to respond. he needed you out of here, out of the crowd, he needed to get you air.

“tell her to call me when she feels better,” chan calls behind you, and san responds, but yunho barely hears him.

the group of them shuffled through the crowd— why were they so deep in, anyways?— tucked under his left armpit, yunho was basically dragging you through the dirt. you were slumped into his side, mumbling something, feet barely carrying you. he debated putting you on his back.

“what are you saying, tiny?” yeosang asked, just a step behind you, closer to your ear than yunho was.

“my jacket,” you said a little louder, strain on your voice, “jisung has it.” a sob leaves your lips and yunho almost smiles, the fact that your jacket was the icing on the cake is so you. even completely done up you stayed unapologetically yourself.

“should we call ace?” san asked from yunho’s other side, his eyebrows still knitted together.

“what the hell is ace gonna do?” yunho replied, his tone curt, “let him have his weekend with reia, he doesn’t need to know. tiny will be fine.”

as you got to the outskirts of the crowd, yunho was bending down in front of you, his arms reaching behind him to hoist you onto his back. you were a deadweight, head slumped over his shoulder, arms limp around his neck. he carried you through the venue towards the main entrance without a word.

you groaned when you finally reached the parking lot, followed by, “yun, i don’t feel good.”

“ah, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, coming to a stop. “can you wait until we get home?”

“put me down now,” you said hurriedly, fear apparent in your tone, and yunho bent down right away, standing back up when your sneakers hit the pavement. you crouched down, yeosang had caught it before yunho did— he stood behind you, your hair wrapped into a ponytail in yeosang’s fist as you emptied the contents of your stomach where yunho had just been standing.

the four of you didn’t say another word until you were five minutes away from your house, the drive spent in silence— you’d spent it with your head halfway out the window, your sunglasses halfway down your nose, eyes shut. if it weren’t for the tears that streamed down your face every now and then, yunho would’ve assumed you were already knocked out.

“should i call him?” you asked the car, everyone already knew who, eyes still closed as you sat back in the cushioned seat. “i miss him, jisung was nothing like him. i wish he was there.”

yunho was lucky you couldn’t see him— he physically winced at your drunken words. san eyed him from the passenger seat, but he paid his friend no mind.

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, teens,” yeosang said calmly from the backseat, sitting close to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. yunho watched as you laid your head on him, you didn’t answer him— maybe you fell asleep. he hoped you did.

san carried you inside your house bridal style and laid you on your unmade bed, but yeosang was the one who had dressed you for bed. it became his responsibility the few times he’s had to do it— an unspoken rule amongst you.

after a hot shower, yunho decided to check on you once more before heading to the guest room for bed. you were sitting over the side of your bed, eyes closed, chugging water from the bottle he’d placed on your nightstand. he only peeked his head in, but you caught him.

“yunho?” you asked weakly, your voice small.

he cursed under his breath, but he inched forward, coming into view. he looked around, clothes were strewn about your floor, clothes hanging out of the hamper— he didn’t realize until then how upset you really were. “you okay, teens?”

you mumbled a mhm then laid back on your sheets, head falling onto your pillows. you turned your head to look at him, eyes crescents, “why can’t i find anyone that’s good for me?”

yunho sighed and walked forward, sitting at the edge of your bed. “you will.”

“kissing jisung didn’t make me feel any better about mingyu,” you paused, yunho didn’t know if you’d continue. your lip trembled, “he was good for me.”

yunho pulled his lips into a line— as much as he hated hearing it, if that's how you felt, he wouldn’t argue with you anymore. “why don’t you try calling him tomorrow?”

you whined, then closed your eyes, pulling your duvet over your body, up to your neck. “i’m tired of being mad at you.”

yunho smiles at that— “i’m sorry i made you mad at me.”

“will you stay with me tonight?”

yunho’s eyes shoot open, his lips parting, his mind running a mile a minute. “what?”

“please,” you opened your eyes a little wider, they were still glassy— he was scared you might cry again if he said no, not that he wanted to say no.

he couldn’t ask why, he couldn’t ask any questions at all. as you pulled up the corner of your duvet, in his tee shirt, all he could muster was “okay.”

that was a lot, if ur still here i love u. tell me how u feel so i don't lose my mind pls

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags: @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric

64 notes · View notes

crowsofdarkness · 3 days ago

Text

Moment Of Weakness: Seventeen

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066

Monday morning came before I was ready to face it but I knew that there wasn’t any way I would be able to stay home, avoiding my problems, for much longer. My mind had been jumbled with thoughts of Bucky and Steve which made my decision way harder than I would have liked it to be. What did help, however, was that I didn’t hear from either of them the last couple of days, both giving me space when I needed it most.

Now, the half block walk from where I parked my car to the office building gave me time to think even more about the two men.

Steve.

He was a breath of fresh air, something different and inviting. He never once judged me for what I was doing with Bucky. He never said he knew but didn’t have too. Steve was nice from day one when I started and our relationship grew slowly over time and it would be stupid not to give him a chance.

Bucky.

Bucky was everything that I had been wanting for so long, he’s the one that my heart yearns for when I’m not around him. He’s the one that I think of the second I put my head down for the night and the second I rise from the bed.

While there was chemistry when Steve and I kissed, it was alway different with Bucky.

My heart rate would accelerate, pounding all throughout my body while my knees would go weak, unable to stand. There was so much fire and intensity with something unknown hidden behind every one of Bucky’s kisses. I couldn’t explain it, it merely kept me wanting more.

However, there still was the fact that Bucky was married and unable to fully commit to me one hundred percent while Steve was ready to give himself to me; in more ways than one.

In the end, someone was going to get hurt and I was willing for it to be me so neither Bucky nor Steve would fall prey to it.

As I turned the corner, Barnes Industries coming into view, I felt a burning gaze at the back of my head which caused me to turn on my heels. Eyes scanned the busy street, other people getting ready to start their own work day, and when no one seemed out of place, I continued the short walk to the front door.

Only now, the burning intensified and I quickly spun around, this time catching a petite woman dart down the alley a couple feet away from me.

“What the fuck,” I muttered with furrowed brows.

When I turned back around, I collided with a large chest, feet stumbling back and I prepared myself to fall onto the concrete. Strong arms wrapped around me, catching me before I fell.

His eyes bored into mine and my body went rigid with fear.

“Cl-clint.” I stammered.

Clint helped me stand up straight and made a mockery of dusting my shoulders off.

“You should really watch where you’re going, Y/N. You never know who you might run into, literally.”

My lips were pulled in a straight line, too afraid to speak a word, and I did the best I could to move past him through the crowded streets. Two gazes were burning a hole into the back of my head but I didn’t bother to look back and see, knowing who one of them belonged to.

“Shit.”

“Oh fuck!”

A small scream fell from my lips when I collided with yet another body, only this one I felt safe in their embrace as his vibranium hand captured my lower back. Bucky’s blue eyes watching me with concern.

“Doll? Are you alright?”

I shook my head, blinking away a few tears that pooled in my eyes. Bucky looked around before pulling me further inside of the building, helping me sit in the chair at my desk.

He kneeled in front of me, placing a hand on my cheek. “Hey, what happened?”

“I felt as if someone was watching me when I was walking in. I got distracted trying to see who and ended up walking into Clint. There’s no way that he would be in your neighborhood for the hell of it, right?”

Bucky’s shoulders went rigid, a low scowl on his lips. “Only to scare you.”

I shook my head. “I thought you paid off the hit?”

“I did,” he nodded. “Maybe he’s trying to scare you.”

“Well, it worked,” I sniffled.

With both of his hands around the back of my neck, he placed a small kiss on my forehead, the action calming my shaking bones immediately.

“Maybe I should go home. He doesn't know where I live,” I said.

As soon as the words left my lips, I couldn’t help but question that statement. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he knew where I lived.

“I’d feel a lot better if you stayed here, that way I can make sure you’re safe,” Bucky replied.

I nodded, knowing he was right.

We stared at each other, his tongue wetting his bottom lip as Bucky began to lean in closer and even with the fire burning low in my abdomen, I let out a small cough to put some distance between us.

“I think I’m going to make some coffee, get my mind off what happened.”

“Sure,” Bucky gave me a forced smile and slowly pulled away. “I’ll be in my office and have the door open if you need anything.”

I didn’t bother to see the small look of hurt across his face as I removed myself from his grasp.

Who was that woman? Something about her screamed familiar but I never got a good look at her face.

I mulled those same thoughts in my mind as I stood in front of the coffee maker, teeth caught between my teeth, trying to figure out who that mystery woman was that darted into the alley when I caught her following me.

“Maybe she works with Clint,” I muttered to myself, pouring a rather large cup of coffee.

My third one in a few hours.

The morning slowly spilled into the early afternoon and I had done a great job in avoiding Bucky and Steve, not ready to face the latter. Though, I knew that at some point I would have to talk to him, to let him know how I felt.

“Hey,” a soft voice sounded behind me.

Fuck, I didn’t mean right now.

I sighed, giving Steve a small smile. “Hi.”

“Bucky told me what happened,” Steve said while running a hand through his hair.

“I’m okay,” I assured him, noticing how worried he was. “Clint didn’t hurt me.”

“I promise you, I paid him off. Bucky handed me the money and I brought it to Clint’s house. He gave me his word that the hit is off,” he assured me.

I gave him a firm nod. “Steve, you don’t need to prove yourself. I believe you.”

His shoulders relaxed a bit before I felt his fingers grasp at my own, pulling me towards his office. “Can we talk, in private?”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I knew that this conversation would happen eventually and now would be the best time to get it over with. No more avoiding it.

“Sure.”

I let Steve gently pull me into his office and once the door was closed, he motioned for the couch that sat in place on the other end of the room. We both sat, with some distance between us.

He ran a hand over his beard and let out a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize. You’re going through a lot right now and I shouldn’t have added more by kissing you.”

I place a hand on his knee. “I wanted that kiss just as much as you did, Steve.”

His face brightened. “You did?”

“Yeah. We’ve been doing this dance for months now, it was only a matter of time.”

Steve sighed. “But-.”

My heart stung when I realized he had a hint of what I was going to say, his tone of voice sounding so broken.

This time I linked our hands together. “I don’t think it’s fair to you to be with you if I’m not 100 percent committed to you. You don’t deserve that.”

Steve’s blue eyes twinkled under the light from his office. “But you do?”

I blinked, a bit caught off guard, and didn’t know how to answer him only because he was right. Why did I deserve to be with someone that wasn’t committed to me?

“I can’t explain it,” I admitted with a shrug. “There’s something about him that it’s hard to let go.”

Steve lifted my chin when I looked down ashamed. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Y/N. I’m used to losing girls to Buck.”

“Do you hate me?” I asked with a shaky breath.

“I could never hate you.”

We gazed into each other's eyes and even with the magnetic pull I felt bringing me in closer to him, I fought against it by placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“You’re a good man, Rogers,” I breathed against his skin.

The bright glow of the moon spilled through the large windows of the building and with a low breath, I packed up my things purposely taking my time. I had to leave, go home for the night, but I was afraid of walking to my car alone with what happened this morning.

Steve had left a few hours ago, with a quick wave but broken eyes, and it did nothing to mend the hurt I felt in my stomach. It made me sick, knowing I caused him that pain.

I glanced over to the office behind me, the man lounging on his couch with his head resting against the back of it, eyes shut in quiet solace.

We spent the majority of the day avoiding each other but now that I needed to ask him a huge favor, I wasn’t quite sure on how Bucky would answer.

A gentle tap sounded on the frame of his door causing him to open his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Headed out?” Bucky nodded to my purse and jacket.

I nodded. “I know I’ve been avoiding you all day so feel free to say no.”

With his own nod, I continued. “Would you mind walking me to my car?”

“Of course, doll.”

Bucky’s smile warmed my heart and I waited patiently as he slipped on his leather jacket. “Ready?”

“Yea,” I smiled.

The cold night air wrapped around us and I made an effort to bring my jacket closer to me, in hope of creating some sort of heat. Bucky noticed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder to pull me closer. The warmth that radiated from him quickly spread to my own body and I silently moaned at the feeling.

“Bucky?”

My voice was quiet but he still heard, his hand squeezing my shoulder. “You alright, doll?”

We came to a stop in front of my car and I avoided leaving; not before telling him exactly how I felt about everything.

My palm rested against his cheek, his plump lips pressing a kiss upon the skin there and the butterflies that laid dormant the last few days began to flutter to life.

“I don’t want to get hurt,” I said.

Bucky nodded in my grasp. “I don’t want to hurt you, doll.”

“I like you a lot, Bucky.”

He quickly brought me closer to him, our nose grazing against one another.

“The feelings are mutual.”

His voice was deep which made my core itch with desire.

Bucky began digging around in his pocket and placed a small, white card in my hand. As the words burned into my brain, my lips curled up in a smile.

Matt Murdock. New York’s Best Divorce Lawyer.

“A divorce?” I questioned, with so much optimism.

He answered my question by capturing our lips together, his own feeling so soft and tasted like the bourbon I saw him drink earlier in the night. Our bodies molded together, as they always did, and I nibbled on his bottom lip when he pulled away.

“I’m hoping by the end of the month she’ll be served with the papers.”

Tears brimmed in my eyes. “You’re really leaving her?”

Vibranium fingers tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “For you, Y/N. I’d do anything for you. The mere thought of possibly losing you to Steve was a wake up call. I can’t lose you and I will do anything to keep you.”

Our lips met in yet another heated kiss, Bucky pushing me up against the cold metal of my car and I looped my fingers into the belt loops of his pants to bring him closer to me, needing that reminder of how his cock felt pressed against me.

We were so engrossed in each other, our possible future together, that neither of us felt the burning eyes from the figure that lingered in the darkness.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #mob!bucky barnes and yn #moment of weakness bucky barnes

46 notes · View notes

clementineofmine · 3 days ago

Text

Not Looking for Happy (But Found it Anyway)

I've been writing this series of kinda stand-alone happy-fuzzy (or as close to that as my whumpy heart can get lol) Hargreeves-siblings-returning-to-their-timeline-and-figuring-their-shit-out epilogues for my Same Weird Family post S2 series for a while now and just posted the latest on A03 (hooray).

And, since we all live in the worst-timeline and maybe some of you could use a distraction as much as I could, I thought I'd put the latest chapter of Diego and Five eating breakfast up here on tumbles as well. Enjoy, and stay safe out there my friends...

---------

Diego was making eggs, concentrating on the way the whites bubbled in the cast iron skillet, when he heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder, and was mildly surprised to see that the footsteps belonged to Five.

“Mornin’,” he greeted Five with a nod. Per tacit agreement, Diego pretended not to notice Five pretending not to notice Diego look him up and down, assessing his healing progress. Five had done a surprisingly adequate job of taking it easy over the last few weeks, and to everyone’s surprise he had even (mostly) tolerated Diego’s self-appointed role of charge nurse.

Though they didn’t talk about it, Five had been in bad shape when they had arrived home. Diego wondered just how much Five remembered of that time, or ever thought about how close he might have been to not making it home at all. Between the abuse of his powers and the further abuse in Reginald’s dungeon, Five had emerged with the constitution and complaints of an old man, despite his previously healthy-ish teenage body.

But that didn’t mean they had to talk about it. Just like they didn’t talk about how Diego’s broken nose was healing a little crookedly, or that he would carry an additional facial scar as a permanent reminder of his fight with Reginald.

But today, things seemed to be looking brighter for both of them. Diego was pleased to see Five was standing squarely, if a bit stiffly, and most of the visible bruising had faded to pale shadows on his face and neck.

His assessment done, Diego returned his attention to the egg pan. Just in time too, as Lila didn't like her yolks runny (a preference that Diego thought bordered on the verge of obscene) but didn't like them hard either.

Diego was pretty sure that she had made up the last preference just to be petty. Eggs should have a nice jiggle, like your ass in a nice pair of pants she had complained the last time he had overcooked them.

“So what are you making?” Five asked, his tone a too-forced casual.

“Eggs,” Diego answered noncommittally, continuing to survey the eggs’ progress. He had heard from the others that Five was attempting small talk this week, and didn’t want to cut him off, but also wanted to avoid another reaming out from Lila.

“Hm,” Five said, and Diego could hear the frown in his voice. “Luther said you ate your eggs raw.”

“Luther’s a dumbass,” Diego retorted.

They fell into silence again.

He wasn't avoiding talking to Five, Diego kept telling himself as he used the spatula to pry up the eggs.

“That wasn’t a no,” Five pointed out. “So why are you cooking them?”

Diego felt his lips pull up into a small, tight smile, not quite a grimace, but certainly not an expression that reached his eyes. “These are for Lila,” he explained, carefully maneuvering the perfectly cooked eggs out of the pan and onto a ceramic plate.

“Oh,” Five said. “I see.”

Silence.

Diego felt a pang of guilt, sighed, then took pity on his brother still awkwardly standing in the doorway and waved him towards the table. “Sit down, Five. I'll make you some too. How do you like yours?”

“Not raw,” Five said dryly.

As he wiped out the pan, Diego turned to Five and raised an eyebrow. “Come on, man. I already get enough shit from Lila.”

Diego watched Five avoid his eyes, looking around the kitchen as if the answer would be found on one of the glass cabinets.

“Over easy?” Five finally said.

The way it was said, Diego was instantly certain that Five had picked a style at random. He felt a pang of frustration but kept his face carefully neutral. “Over easy,” he confirmed. Then, “You sure?”

As the words left his mouth, Diego remembered that Grace had always made scrambled eggs, so it was more than possible that Five had never been asked how he liked his eggs before.

The way Five's lips suddenly set and his jaw tightened confirmed to Diego that he was right.

“Look, it's not a big deal,” Diego backtracked. He turned back towards the stove, and added more butter to the pan. “Over easy it is.”

A sudden jolt of panic hit Diego as he saw the plate of steaming eggs cooling next to the stove. “Hey, Five, you mind taking these up to Lila first?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Five said.

Once Five departed, Diego shook his head to clear his thoughts. He cracked six eggs into the browning butter in the pan. He looked at them, looked back at the package, frowned, then grabbed four more eggs and added them to the pan.

Five was healing nicely, Diego mused, mentally checking through the list of Five’s injuries. He was on his way back to normal. But Diego also was very well aware that normal for Five Hargreeves wasn't something that he, anyone really, was familiar with. And would normal even be possible for a fifty-eight year old man stuck in a teenager’s body? Diego became again aware of the anxious knot that hadn’t left the pit of his stomach since they had found Five in Reginald’s basement. He knew he was driving Five, himself, hell everyone, nuts with anxiety.

But he couldn't stop himself.

Besides, Five had always driven Diego crazy: as a kid due to his overly competitive nature, and now, as an agent of chaos disrupting their lives.

Five said it himself, he’s the four freakin’ horsemen, Diego recalled. And he was viscerally aware, more than the others, of the death that had followed in Five’s wake.

Griddys. Patch. Kennedy. Dad (twice).

How many countless others?

Diego felt the knot twist in his stomach. He knew it was wrong, but it was hard not to blame Five for the destruction that they had all experienced. The chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow.

And Diego did feel a tiny bit justified being angry at Five’s antics. The killing sprees. Lying about the killing sprees. Normal people don’t act like that, Diego told himself. But he knew that didn’t justify blaming Five for everything else.

Diego sighed and jiggled the eggs in the pan. What a fucked up family we are. But not so deep down Diego knew that he loved his fucked up family, and would hold onto them as long as he could.

Even Five.

And so Diego was doing what he could to take care of Five. Even though he knew it made him annoying as shit to himself and everyone else.

Five came back into the kitchen just as Diego’s ruminations and the eggs were done. Diego shook his head to clear it, then divided the copious pile of eggs onto two plates.

“Lila said ‘keep trying’, then some disgusting stuff that I’m not going to repeat,” Five smirked.

Diego growled as he maneuvered the plates of eggs onto the table and went to grab forks.

Five maneuvered himself into one of the chairs at the table. Interestingly, as he sat, Diego saw him lay a small package on the table. But he didn’t say anything about it, so Diego ignored it for now and simply slid a fork and a plate of eggs over to Five.

“Goddamn it,” Diego muttered, clattering his own plate down on the table and taking a seat. “I've been making that woman eggs for weeks now and….She can make her own damn eggs next time.” Reaching for the salt and pepper shakers, he saw Five frowning at his plate.

“Something wrong?” Diego asked, pepper shaker in hand.

When Five ignored him, he kept talking. “Hey, look, Lila’s a limey idiot. These are good eggs.”

Five still said nothing. Diego continued adding his condiments, then shoveled a perfectly cooked egg into his mouth. They were good eggs.

Five was still sitting motionless, now staring through the plate of eggs more than at it.

“Something wrong?” Diego asked again, a new sense of unease limiting his enjoyment of the deliciously runny yolk.

Five looked up, as if finally noticing Diego. He blinked, then shook his head. “No, I—nevermind.” He looked around the room again, as if seeing it for the first time. “Last time I was in here I, uh, used the stove as a bomb. It was—” he picked up his fork and stabbed at an egg. “—more kinetic than I expected.”

Diego remembered witnessing the explosion from down the block. At the time, it had certainly been one hell of a distraction, and had given the Umbrellas the perfect cover to sneak into the Academy. “Well, we can’t all be perfect,” he scoffed. “Not even you.”

Five’s face twisted.

Immediately, Diego regretted the words. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Five’s mouth twitched again, but he said nothing.

They ate in silence for a minute. “Lila’s wrong,” Five finally proclaimed through the last bite of eggs.

“Come again?” Diego asked.

“You do make good eggs.”

“Uh,” Diego began, trying to hide his surprise. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He couldn't remember the last compliment he had gotten from Five. Hell, he couldn't remember ever getting a compliment from Five.

Five reached down and slid the small package across the table to “Here. I got, well,” he amended. “I found something for you.”

Diego reached for the package. It was a small object, wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. He unwrapped it carefully, feeling Five’s eyes watch him the entire time.

When it was open, Diego placed the object on the table and simply stared at it. Then he looked up and stared at Five quizzically.

“I thought,” Five began haltingly, “that you’d want to have it. A memento. To remind us that he’s finally gone for good.”

Diego looked down again at Reginald’s monocle. It somehow seemed to be staring back at him, which was creepy, so Diego palmed it, squeezing his hand around the glass and metal. It was cold, colder than Diego would have expected. “Where did you find this?” he demanded.

Five shrugged and looked embarrassed. “There’s a secret compartment under dads liquor shelf. I saw it in the, uh, Sparrow Timeline. Thought it might be here, too.”

“I…” Diego picked up the monocle and dangled it from his fingers, frowning at it. “Five, I threw this monocle into the river after Dad died.”

Five blinked, looked uncomfortable for a moment, then shrugged it off. “Reginald probably had a spare.”

Diego twisted the monocle between his fingers and considered the idea.

“Either that or we’re in a different timeline.”

At those words, Diego looked up sharply.

“I’m kidding, Diego,” Five said with a hint of a smile. Then, the smile transformed into a concentrated frown. “Well, maybe…the temporal math…hmm, it's not impossible…”

As Five rambled, Diego inspected the monocle. It was still cold, and he thought it was very odd that it hadn’t picked up any body heat from his hand. In fact, Diego realized that he now felt a chill in his fingers, as if something was draining the heat out of them.

On a whim, he put the monocle up to his eye and looked through it.

Immediately the world shifted and Diego’s stomach lurched. He squinted through the glass and panned around the room, frowning at seeing what had just been formerly functional kitchen appliances replaced by broken equipment and debris.

But when he looked up from the monocle, the image was gone.

He turned to Five, intending to interrupt his incoherent monologue to point out what he just saw. Yet the words died on his lips when Diego caught a glimpse of Five through the monocle’s glass.

Where Five was sitting, Diego saw an old man with weathered cheeks and a scraggly beard. Diego blinked, and the image shifted to that of another stranger, another old man, this one impeccably dressed in a vintage suit. A pistol was expertly laid out on the table in front of him.

Diego blinked again, and other versions of Five appeared through the monocle:

Five as a young adult, wearing a ripped and ratty version of Dad's hunting outfit, Diego’s own knife harness strapped to his gaunt frame.

Five, still young and skinny, in a dirtier version of the Academy uniform.

Then, the scene changed slightly and the uniform was clean, but blood spattered.

The perspective warped dizzyingly, and suddenly this version of Five stood over Diego clutching an axe, his face contorted into a feral grin. Diego’s felt his heart palpitate as he looked up into Five’s eyes, glinting with madness, staring straight down into his own.

Diego blinked rapidly, and the monocle responded with more visions.

Five in suits and rags, his hands clutching weapons, briefcases, or unidentifiable objects.

Five in a Sparrow Academy uniform, a black eye and a bloody lip complementing the ensemble.

At one point Diego could swear he saw a woman's face, with blond hair and a kind smile. But he blinked again, and the vision was gone.

Diego wasn't sure how long he was captured by the spell of the monocle, blinking through what seemed like an almost infinite number of portraits of Five.

“Diego? Diego?”

Suddenly Diego saw a familiar version of Five: Five as a child again, a young child who wore a frown too old for his face, his eyes pleading with Diego.

With effort, Diego ripped the monocle away from his eye. For a moment, the world swam, then snapped back into focus.

“Diego?” Five said again, his voice tinged with impatience. “Are you okay?”

Diego stuffed the monocle into his pocket. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I'm fine. Thanks for the present.”

Five worked his jaw like he was going to say something, but Diego decided to quickly change the subject. “So, do you want to train sometime?”

The non-sequitur caught Five off guard and he raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, you’re almost healed,” Diego explained. “And I don't know what you did at the Commission…and I know you’re probably not at your peak, but…” he trailed off. “Look if I were you I'd be itching to get back in the gym,” Diego admitted. “And I started boxing again so…”

“Diego, are you asking me to fight you?” Five asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Diego rolled his eyes. “I mean you don't have to spar with me or anything. Luther used to, but it's fine there's plenty of people at the gym. For someone of your age—”

The words dried up in Diego’s mouth as his memory superimposed the older versions of Five in his vision. Diego instinctively felt the monocle in his pocket. He could feel the coolness even through the cloth. “There's older…I mean younger…” Diego threw up his hands in frustration. “Fuck, I don't know how damn old you're supposed to be, Five!”

Five’s raised eyebrow went even higher, and the corner of his mouth twisted into wry amusement. He seemed to be relishing Diego's discomfort. He held the beat for a moment, then turned serious. “Sparring with you would be fine, Diego. I think….I think I'd enjoy that,” Five admitted.

Before Diego could say anything, he continued. “I mean, as long as you don't mind your friends watching you get your ass handed to you by someone who looks like…” Five trailed off and gestured to his body.

“Oh, I don't mind,” Diego said, leaning over the table and looking Five in the eye. He flashed him a ruthless smile. “Because, you see, that is never going to happen.”

Five stared back at him. For a moment, Diego could have sworn he saw that glint of madness flash in his eyes, and his adrenaline spiked.

But just as quickly the moment was gone, and only his brother remained. Five flashed Diego a wide, sardonic smile. “Challenge accepted.”

#same weird family #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #making breakfast #those boys gotta eat #also a little exploration of Reginald's monocle #thanks to assaily for that FANTASTIC idea #the umbrella academy #post s2 fic #i wrote it

30 notes · View notes

chaotic-mystery · 6 hours ago

Text

Code Red | Chapter Twelve: Eyes Like Fire

Joel miller x f!oc (told in 2nd POV)

Summary: After Janet finds out about you and Joel, it's finally time to tell Sarah. Can she handle knowing you've been with her dad for over a year?

Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his forties), slow burn, written in 2nd POV, no use of y/n, broken father/daughter relationship, daddy issues, dd/lg relationship dynamic, toxic dynamic between reader and stepmom, name calling, slut shaming,shitty perceptions of reader from dad, physical fight, blood mentioned, a nice morning fuck ruined very quickly by arguing, strong language, choking, p in v, fingering, creampie, kitchen sex, hair pulling.

Authors Note: It's here and so am I. I hope you find comfort in knowing Joel Miller would never let your shitty dad be horrible and would knock his teeth out over you <3 that's all. love you.

|| wc: 5.9k and unbeta'd af || series masterlist || main masterlist || divider by me ||

The music didn’t seem nearly as loud as it did when you first got here. The anxiety washes over your body as you look at the pink camera in your hands, the photo staring right back.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

Your mouth feels dry as it falls slightly open, your watery eyes scanning over everyone before falling onto Joel.

“I can explain…”

But you couldn’t. Nothing was coming out. Not a single idea or excuse was coming to mind. Not a fucking thing.

Janet scoffs and crosses her arms over the ugly floral top she had on.

“I would just love to hear the excuses you try to feed us this time. Go on, tell everyone how you seduced your fathers best friend and took him from another woman.” Her fake smile only boiled your blood more.

Joel looks like a deer in headlights, caught between saying something and making it worse or staying silent.

“I didn’t seduce him and take him from anybody. It just happened.” The crack in your voice from pleading was fueling your anger in the situation. It felt like high school all over again, being humiliated in front of a crowd for someone else's amusement.

Janet parts the crowd of bodies even wider as she gets closer, just a few feet apart now.

“Does he even know you slept with his brother? You just can’t help yourself can you? Is this why you came back to Texas, to be a little harlot and sleep with everyone and, in this case, their brother?”

“I didn’t sleep with his brother you dumb bitch! What, are you jealous I had him in my hand like putty the night I got here and you could never get him in bed with you?”

Only now did your dad feel like it was time to say what he wanted. Storming over to you closer than Janet was, he didn’t blink as he made himself very clear.

“Don’t you call her a bitch! You will respect her! I didn’t raise you to be that way.”

It shouldn’t be so surprising your dad just let her get away with calling you almost every name besides the word slut. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt just the same if not more.

Your head hangs as you feel defeated. Nothing was ever going to change, never. He was too far gone to realize the damage he’s done and he won’t go back now. He’d rather die a coward than try to make amends.

“You raised me? Where were you when I had my final piano recital? Did you take me to any of my doctors appointments? Did you call me on my birthdays? Did you ever have any clothes for me at your house the few summers I came to stay with you? Where were you, Dad? You’re lying to yourself if you think you raised me.”

Groaning as he throws his hands in the air, your dad shakes his head and mutters under his breath a slew of profanities.

“Here you go with the piano recital again. I was at work, my boss wouldn’t let me leave. You don’t get to make me feel bad about that. Just in case you weren’t aware, a phone works both ways.”

Joel inches closer and closer until he’s behind you, showing you he’s not going anywhere, not now. He links his pointer finger with yours behind your back and just the small gesture from him makes the lump in your throat grow, feeling like a baseball now.

“I was a kid…I am a kid. I will always be the kid in the story. I moved with mom and suddenly my siblings and I didn’t matter, not as much as Janet’s kids, right? I’m just supposed to watch you play house with someone else?”

“Their dad up and left town without a word, they needed a father-”

“I needed a father! I needed my father!” There it was. The thing that’s been killing you to say. It felt as if you threw up sewing needles and tar, nonetheless you managed to spit it out.

“Well you can forget that now. You seduced my best friend, made him break up with his girlfriend, all for what? To get back at me? To punish me? I pity you if this was your way of needing my attention.” He steps closer and you immediately feel like the scared little girl sitting in the corner again, waiting for it to be over. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to prepare for whatever may come and you feel your hand drop from covering your face, a presence standing in front of you. Like a fucked up version of a prince saving the damsel in distress, there Joel was, swooping in to save you in your most broken down state, shielding you from the big bad dragon licking its chops ready to tear you to pieces.

“Alan. Think about the next thing you say to her or I will knock your fucking teeth down your throat.”

Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had that look he was giving your dad, the same one he had the first time he saved you from those guys at the bar.

“Joel you understand, don’t you? You have a daughter.”

“I do, but I would never in a million years treat her the way you treat yours. Since the day she got here, you put her in my care. Mine-” He pauses to gather himself, the anger about to make him explode.

“You don’t deserve a daughter like her. You don’t deserve her period. Neither of you assholes do” Joel states harshly before grabbing your hand, leading you back inside to leave.

“Whatever Joel, you’ll see why she runs away when shit gets tough. She can’t handle it, she’s a scared little bitc-“

The crowd of people gasp before you look down and see Janet bent over with her hand cupping her jaw, yelling in pain, blood pouring from her mouth. Your fist was gaining feeling in it before you realized you hit her.

You hit Janet.

Joel’s eyes go big and he grabs you once more before getting you out of there as fast as he could, trying to spare you from anything your dad was shouting as he helped Janet to her feet.

He opens the driver's side door and tosses your purse inside on the passenger seat before stepping aside to let you in. “I’ll meet you at home. Go on, be safe. I’m right behind you, baby. Right behind you.”

You start your car and pull off quickly, Joel’s truck tailing you closely.. The radio was blasting your Deftones CD from earlier, Hole In the Earth just making the tears fall right out of your eyes. Digging in your purse to grab a cigarette, you light the end of it before taking a deep inhale, your mind already replaying what happened.

It all happened so fast. One minute you were with Joel and having a decent time and then before you knew it, you were looking down at your bloody knuckles wrapped around your steering wheel. You pull into Joel's driveway and turn your car off, the cigarette just about finished when he comes to your car door and opens it.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go inside.”

”Joel what did I do? Genuinely…what did I do?” The mascara that once coated your eyelashes only hours ago was now staining your cheeks, creating streaks down your neck.

He squats down and you hear his knees crack, muffled by his jeans.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. One day he’ll see the damage he’s caused but by then it’ll be too late. Sometimes the hardest way to heal ourselves is to let go of the people we want to keep close, even if that hurts more.”

Joel doesn’t say anything more as he lets you mince over his words that he only hopes to help you in some way. Getting out of the car, you walk to his front door with the keys tucked between your fingers as if you were Wolverine ready to attack someone or something.

“Do you still have that sandbag in the garage?”

“Y-yeah, it’s over in the corner.”

He walks you through the house to the garage and flips the light on, pointing to the red colored sack right in the corner where he said it was.

You take off the copious amount of rings scattered across your fingers and put them in his hand before making your way to the sandbag, throwing your tightly closed fist back before it makes contact with the plastic covering of the bag.

Over and over, you hit the bag to release all the anger and frustration you harbor inside your body, a guttural scream clawing out of your throat to echo off the walls. All the bullshit your dad and Janet have said to you over the last year circling your brain, only causing your screams to get louder. At this moment, you didn’t care what Joel thought about any of this. You didn’t care how you looked in his eyes. You needed this for you and unfortunately Joel’s sandbag was the temporary solution.

Feeling your knees get weaker with every punch becoming softer than the last, you fall to the floor and soon enough Joel comes behind you, rubbing your back and unsure of what to say. Joel picks you up off the floor and takes you inside to the bathroom, leaning you against the sink as he drowns your knuckles in peroxide to clean them thoroughly.

“Don’t ever let someone get leverage over your emotions again, understand?” Joel didn’t sound angry or as if he was giving you a lecture, it was more like a lesson for next time and he was right. Janet got under your skin, exactly what she wanted. She wanted your dad to see you in a worse light than he already did. She wanted you to lose your cool.

You stare at the floor still feeling uneasy and raging inside but once more you tuck away the ugly part of you and start to plan.

“So you clocked her?” Tommy laughs and shovels eggs into his mouth and you look up at him from under your hood, grinning at how impressed he was until Joel shook his head.

“Tommy…stop.”

Your grins drop at the serious tone from Joel.

“What, man? I’m just sayin’ I’m glad someone finally hit that bitch, she’s insane. Very proud of you, kid.” Tommy holds out for a fist bump and you drop your fork to meet him halfway.

“I don’t think hitting her is something we need to be bumpin’ fists over. This shit is nowhere near over, you do know that? For all of us? I knew I should’ve moved to the fuckin’ mountains when I had the chance.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you swallow dryly, Tommy trying to lighten the mood after Joel’s grumpy testament.

“Aren’t you glad you stuck around though?” Tommy smiles and bites off more than he can handle of his pancakes.

Waving your hand to dismiss Joel’s attitude, you turn to face him more and put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s not going to do anything, okay? Most that’ll come out of this is that he’ll never speak to me again which I don’t mind. He’ll forgive you because somehow that makes sense in his brain, and Janet will continue being a hateful cunt. We’ll be fine, baby. Promise.”

You hold your pinky out for Joel to hook his around and squeeze but he continues to shove a cut piece of potato in his mouth. He could never say no to those puppy dog eyes you make when you wanted to get your way with him.

“Such a brat, you know that?” He huffs and tucks his chubby pinky around yours, holding tightly before pulling you close for a gentle kiss, when you hear the beginning guitar strums playing over the diner speakers above your head. You wrap your arms around Joel’s bicep and lean your head on him, looking out the window to your left as the sunlight pokes through the blue gingham curtains.

Graceless lady, you know who I am

You know I can't let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

Humming the melody softly while Joel and Tommy talk and finish their food, your mind begins to race with ideas and maybe solutions to this issue. What if you left Texas? Find somewhere new to start over and get away from your dad for good. It wasn’t a total mistake moving back here because had you not, you would’ve never met Joel. There was too much wrapped into this now and running was the coward's way out. Texas was big enough for the both of you to be here, right?

Filling your lungs with a big breath, you open Joel’s front door to see him and Sarah in the kitchen getting dinner ready to be served. You’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t beating in your throat, scared of how you were going to tell her you’d been seeing her dad for the last year, sneaking around like a pair of teenagers. Figured you shouldn’t smoke a cigarette before this, good impressions and all that shit. The breakfast from earlier was long gone by this point and you were too anxious to feel hungry.

“I didn’t know you were coming! Love the dress by the way, very you” Sarah says kindly, giving you a smile that somewhat resembles Joel’s.

“Thank god, I was wondering if it went with my boots or not.” You bend your leg behind you to show her your black boots, earning a nod from her for your outfit. So far so good.

You finally look at Joel and see him leaned against the kitchen sink with his arms crossed over his chest, silently taking in the small interaction between you two. Your breath catches and your nerves ramp up just seeing him in his black t-shirt with the daintiest gold chain hanging from his neck.

“Anything I can help with?” You ask and set your phone on the counter with your purse tucked away on the stool by the countertop.

“If you wanna carry the salad to the table, that’d be good. Dad can carry the rest” Sarah chimes in and hurriedly grabs the plates with the silverware banging against the top, rushing you into the dining room so Joel’s left to handle the main course.

You set the wooden bowl down off center of the table, leaving enough room for Joel to empty his hands and Sarah walks in circles as she arranges each place setting.

“Baby, can you sit in my seat this time, please?” Joel asks as he points Sarah into the chair he’s talking about, meaning he wants each of you to be on either side of her when you tell her.

Thanks, Joel.

She looks at him confused and plops down in the seat, not understanding yet.

“Why are you being so weird today, Dad?”

You take another deep breath and look at Joel before he sits down and looks at Sarah.

“Well, there’s something I wanna talk to you about and I want you to be honest how it makes you feel, alright?” His tongue pokes out from behind his teeth and grazes over his lips, his arms moving slightly indicating he was rubbing his hands together anxiously under the table.

She nods and you sit down in the chair next to her, sitting straight as a board, almost scared to make a move.

“I’ve been seeing someone for a little over a year now and I wanted to be sure about it before I told you. I know it’s been you and I for as long as you can remember and I feel like we’re in a good enough place to share it with you, sweetheart.” Joel extends his hand across the table and wiggles his fingers, wanting you to hold his hand.

Sarah immediately looks at you, taking in every square inch of you, sizing you up as she’s processing the news. It was almost too painful to breathe, like you were under a microscope being examined for everything. Your dress was suddenly too tight, your sock was slouching down from your boot yanking on it, everything was too much.

“It’s about time you told me.” The smirk on her face was the needle you needed to burst your anxiety balloon sitting inside your chest.

Joel’s head drops for a few seconds and it’s upright again, eyes fixed on his daughter.

“Sarah Miller, what the hell are you talking about?”

“First, swear jar. Second, I found her picture in your room the other day when I was looking for some lunch money.”

Your brows furrow and his face turns red.

“Picture? What picture?” you chime in, confused about what she’s talking about.

“I dunno, you’re holding some cake with peeps on it.”

Your mind swirls around for what feels like forever as you try to recall when he took that photo from your dads house. How did he go this long without you realizing he had it? It almost brings a tear to your eye to know how loved you truly are by Joel, the fact he’d steal that in the off chance he’d get caught.

“I know the one. How do you feel about all this, Sarah?”

She looks between the pair of you and shrugs, toying with her cup in front of her plate.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s weird in a way. I mean, it’s really only been my dad and I so it’ll take some time getting used to it but I like you and I think you’re really good for him. I mean, between us two, he stopped wearing socks with holes in them, so I think you’re influencing him well.”

Joel purses his lips and gives Sarah an unamused look.

You two burst out laughing at him and he lets go of your hand to start passing around dinner.

“Alright, I can see how this is gonna be. Already getting ganged up on by my girls.”

It was comforting knowing she was okay with you being with him. Every place in your life you felt like you didn’t belong, like you were a ghost floating around to find your purpose or the one little sliver of the universe that’s yours.

Who knew it would be at the Millers house back in the one state you tried to run from for so long?

“And Sarah-“ Joel swallows his bite of food before continuing, “stop going in my room when I’m not home.”

The clock on the microwave showed fifteen minutes before midnight and Sarah was passed out in her bed upstairs, Joel tucked away on his couch with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Baby..? Are you asleep?”

He doesn’t move and you sit up more to see his eyes closed, head down slightly.

“Joel” you whisper and softly nudge him awake, “cmon, let’s go to bed.”

“I wasn’t asleep, I was watching TV. I’m not even tired” he says in a groggy voice trying to put on an act.

“Yeah right, I highly doubt you know what Mike Rowe is doing on Dirty Jobs. Let’s go, chief.”

You hold out your hand to help him up and he follows you upstairs across the hall from Sarah’s room, the streetlight cascading in behind her purple curtains.

Joel shuts the white painted door behind him and locks it, immediately shedding out of his clothes down to his underwear. Looking around you scratch your head and debate going back home for a moment just to grab pajamas, not that there’s anything wrong with borrowing Joel’s clothes, you’d just rather not sleep like Pooh bear the first night with a full house.

“Gotcha something on my way home, go look in the bathroom.”

You turn on your heel to look at him curiously and slowly make your way into his en suite bathroom, noticing the new pair of pajamas folded nicely on the sink in your favorite color.

The buttery smooth satin under your fingertips makes you smile at the thoughtful gesture of him buying these for you, knowing you can’t resist a good pj set.

“You mind if I shower, actually?” you poke your head out from the bathroom and see Joel in bed with the TV on and he meets your gaze, shaking his head no and giving you a smile.

“Do whatever you want, baby. Whatever makes you feel at home.”

And you did just that. The extra hot water ran over your skin as you washed yourself clean, soaking in the day and everything that’s come from it. It would be over in just a few short minutes and a new day would start but this one would stick with you for a while.

When you get out of the shower and get dressed, you open the bathroom door and the cool air hits your damp skin. Soft snores come from Joel asleep in his bed, laying on his tummy facing your direction.

“Yeah, not tired my ass.”

You climb in bed next to him as if you’d wake him up with one move but realistically it wouldn’t faze him one bit. Getting adjusted, you listen to the TV as you look out his bedroom window, mind too busy to sleep. The train going over the tracks in the distance blows its horn, Joel stirring in his sleep to pull you against his chest tightly.

Waking up the next morning in Joel’s bed, face down and tangled in his sheets, you feel the emptiness beside you and yawn tiredly as you sit up, looking around his room in the daylight.

It was cozy, not nearly as messy as yours, but cozy. Photos of him and Sarah tacked to the walls with push pins, random piles of loose change on his dresser, his watch resting on top of a small stack of books, everything seeming to have a place.

You walk softly down the stairs, carefully trying to see where everyone’s at. Small flips of pages come from the kitchen and you find Joel’s back facing you, the steam from his coffee rising over his shoulder before disappearing in air.

He sighs in relief when you lean against him and kiss his neck tenderly, wrapping your right arm around his front, keeping him as close as you can.

“Morning sweetheart. Saved you some coffee if you want it.”

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, biting his neck before releasing him from your hold and sitting next to him in the wooden chair.

“She and Tommy went to the mall so she can hang out with her friends. She says i'm too embarrassing to chaperone them or somethin’ like that.”

You toy with your cigarette box and debate going outside to have a smoke out on the back patio.

“Baby I love you, but I one hundred percent understand why she wouldn’t want her dad coming with to the mall. It’s a teenage thing, ya know? I was like that with my mother.”

He rubs his sock covered foot against your leg tenderly, “Yeah you’re right. I didn’t want to go anyway to tell you the truth. Tommy can be responsible for a bunch of teenagers for a day.”

Giggling at the fake amusement in his voice, you walk to the cupboard and pour yourself some coffee and turn around, feeling a set of eyes burning into your head.

‘Why are you staring at me, weirdo?” The hot liquid coats your throat and it feels nice, the itch of wanting that cigarette dying a little.

Joel gets up from the chair and plants himself in front of you, lips attacking your neck before giving you time to react.

“What’s the matter, I can’t look at my girlfriend? hm?” he inquires playfully, not really expecting you to answer.

The once sweet kisses turn rough and he pins your arms above your head against the light stained wood, digging into your skin firmly with each breath he steals between kisses. You moan softly and inch closer to him until your fronts are sandwiched together, begging for a little bit of friction. If you could get paid to stay home with him and fuck his brains out, you’d be a billionaire by now.

“Not when you stare, no’’ you breathlessly reply.

“Too bad, you’re fucking beautiful so I’m gonna stare.” His freehand comes up to the crown of your head and grabs firmly on a chunk of your hair, as close to the root as he can, just to give a reassuring pull that he was there and he meant every word he was saying.

You lock your ankles together around his body and start grinding against the semi soft bulge in his pants, the head of his cock nudging your clit that was already throbbing.

“Right here in the kitchen? That's where you want it, sweet girl?”

Joel wraps his bulky arms around you tightly, so desperate to feel your body on his. Quickly taking the opportunity, you slip your pants and panties down to your ankles, looking at his dark brown eyes as you rest your head against the cupboard, letting his hands roam all over your body, admiring as if you were the most beautiful piece of art he’d ever seen.

“Look at me when you slip it in, okay? I wanna see you go to heaven.”

A devious smile grows on his face and he puts his middle and ring finger in your mouth, pushing against your tongue to make you close around him, getting his fingers coated with saliva. Like two magnets finding their way again, you feel those same fingers that were in your mouth now on your clit, the arousal being added to the mix.

“You are so goddamn beautiful. An absolute angel. Look at me baby, right here, okay? Look at me.”

Joel smacks the head on your aching cunt before dipping inside, your eyebrows furrowing in pleasure, so confused how sex could feel so good, so addicting.

“Oh my fucking god, Joel. Go slow, go slow” you pant, rubbing his sides as a guide for him like he needed it.

“You’re taking it so well, sweetheart. So wet for me too, that’s it. Come here” he says before kissing you deep, tongue immediately pushing its way into your mouth to touch yours. His entire cock was inside you and pumping slowly at first, gaining speed with each kiss shared.

As soon as he kissed you like that, you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle much. Something about him fucking you so deep and slow and kissing you so sloppy made your head spin and your knees turn to jelly. You whine his name on his lips, nails digging into his back the harder he pressed into you.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck me just like that-fuck-like that.” Your breathing matches each other and his hand digs into your hip, pinning you right in your spot so you couldn’t run from the fucking you were getting.

“Yeah you like that, honey? I know I know I know-” he coos teasingly before continuing between groans, “I know you like when I fuck you hard. What if I put my hand right here and squeeze, that turns you on more when daddy chokes you?” Joel’s hand wraps firmly around your neck and applies light pressure while he continues to thrust harder inside.

Your broken moans serve as an answer to him which in return makes him moan louder, driving him crazy knowing how much power he has over you when you’re like this. The way you give yourself up to him and give him control, the trust being so apparent, quite frankly it could make him come just thinking about it.

His thick fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing tight circles to keep you whining for more. It was like you were drowning but you didn’t mind, you wanted more pressure in your lungs, you needed it. Pressing your damp forehead to his and feeling both hands on your hips now, you try to tell him you were going to come but he shoves his fingers in your mouth, gagging you to silence.

“Come with me baby, give it to me. Give me all of it, right now. Be good for daddy and come with me” he whispers, pressing lazy kisses to your temple while you shatter on his arms, crying out his name as you shake and buck your hips from the overwhelming ecstasy taking over your body.

Joel gives a few more thrusts and you feel him pulsing inside you as he comes, grabbing a fistful of your hair once more to give a squeeze as he fills you up. You kiss him deeply again, your lips muffling his swears and grunts of your name, the two of you trying to calm down and bask in the moment as much as you could.

Just as you break apart and look at him, his phone rings.

At least they waited until after you got fucked.

Joel shuffles to the table as he pulls his underwear up and looks at the screen, hesitating to answer.

“What do you want?”

Seconds go by without Joel saying a word and you still are clueless as to who it is. Hopping off the counter carefully and getting dressed once more, you walk over and wrap yourself in his arm with your head resting on his chest, the steady thumps of his heart calming you like a lullaby.

“I don’t think it’s a good time for you to come over right now, she’s not in the mood and neither am I to be frank.”

Bashfully looking at him, you start to worry who it is.

“Fine, you can talk to me but you aren’t saying a word to her, that’s the deal. Take it or leave it Alan.”

Now it starts to make sense.

Joel tosses the phone back on the table after hanging up and sighs in frustration.

“He wants to come talk to you?”

“I guess, not sure what about but I’ll entertain this idea he has. I won’t let him go near you, okay? I promise.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip softly as you nod and pats your ass to get this shitshow moving along.

“Just stay in my room and don’t come out until I get you. It’ll be fine. I’m not above hitting anyone over you.”

Glaring at him humorless and turning on your heel, you head upstairs and stop halfway, taking Joel’s bait.

“But when I hit someone it’s not okay?” you ask a little more sarcastically than you wanted. You stop at the top of the stairs and cross your arms, giving him a side eye.

“I just didn’t have any bail money on me, baby.” The shit eating grin on his face just irritates you more and you want to wipe it right off.

Stomping your feet the rest of the way to his room and slamming the door behind you, you flop onto his bed and groan loudly into the pillows. It was clearly no surprise you were upset with your dad once again ruining another day for you and Joel, it was almost more shocking when he left you alone for more than twenty-four hours.

“I just don’t know what you expect from me Alan! I’ve stuck by you for years and never once did you tell me about her. You’re embarrassed of her and everything she is, admit it.”

The raised voices wake you up from the small nap you apparently took and your body starts to get that feeling. You know, the one where you shiver uncontrollably even though you aren’t cold and nothing makes sense, nothing feels safe. You get out of his bed and manipulate the door handle just right to open silently so you can sneak out and listen over the railing of the stairs.

“I’m not embarrassed by her, she’s my kid. Mine. I don’t agree with everything she’s done and how she’s lived, but she’s my blood.” His words make you sick as he always says the same shit he always did. Blood wasn’t starting to hold much weight to you anymore.

“She’s your flesh and blood but you sit there with your wife and tear her down until she’s nothing but a shell of herself. You dim her light to satisfy that guilty feeling of not being present. She came here to start over, to fix any last shred of a relationship she could have with you and you fucked it up.”

The room falls silent and you don’t move a muscle, afraid someone would hear you and know you were eavesdropping.

“I didn’t fuck this up. She did; by getting with you. She lied to you and brought you to my ex who’s even better at manipulating people, and now you’re brainwashed just like them. She never called me when she was living with her mother and a phone works both ways. I’ve always tried to teach her that, Joel. She’s hardheaded and she’s selfish. Do you know how much money I’ve spent on her since she was born? She never went to college, she doesn’t talk to her sister, probably because she’s jealous of the life she created for herself and her kids. She’s just lost right now and buddy, I’d hate to see you get hurt because of her. She’s a child.”

Your stomach was turning and you at some point covered your mouth with your hand to silence your crying. Joel's boots shuffle on the floor and you hear a door, probably the one leading outside the house.

“Get out. Now. She’s better off without you, she won’t lose sleep over not having whatever this was you were trying to be for her. Don’t contact her again and don’t come around here badmouthing her in front of me unless you have a serious wish to spend a couple nights in the hospital. We’re done. Now, get the fuck out of my house.” Joel’s tone was something you’ve never heard before, it was kind of scary if you were being honest.

Your dad scoffs and you can hear more shuffling. “Listen-”

“NOW!” Joel yells.

Flinching at the sudden outburst of anger, your heart rattles inside your chest as it did when your parents used to fight when you were younger.

You sit on the landing and place your feet on the stairs below it, in disbelief at what you just heard.

He slams the front door shut and curses loudly before walking to the stairs and stopping as soon as he sees you sitting there silently. Joel runs a hand through his hair and over his face before moseying up and sitting a few steps further from you, his arm draped over your lap.

“You know I don’t believe anything he ever says, right?”

“I know, I just don’t think I should stay here anymore.” You fiddle with your thumbs trying not to look at him.

“Baby I understand if you want some space and want to go back home, I’m not that far away.” His attempts at jokes are noted and appreciated but you couldn’t shake this feeling.

“No, Joel. I mean Texas. I need to go.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #the last of us #dbf!joel #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #pedro pascal joel miller #hbo the last of us #cw age gap #cw daddy kink #cw blood

43 notes · View notes

dorkus-mcdingus · 1 day ago

Text

TWST Actors AU: Glorious Masquerade Shenanigans

Sometimes I think of the TWST boys in an Actors AU but the Halloween specials are the things the boys look forward to filming so much

Although, filming Glorious Masquerade was quite the challenge because it was where all the dumb shenanigans happened especially since Rollo's actor was definitely being the most silly about the whole thing especially behind the scenes and it only got worse when he put on the costume.

Mainly for the sake of realism he used his actual hair to get the 15th century monk style and he would do so much dumb shit while in costume like making troll-y thirst traps for TikTok and in the bg you can see Malleus's, Idia's, and Azul's actors keeling over from laughing.

A lot of times the actors would have to beg him to stop because they didn't want their makeup to run from how much he's making everyone crying from laughter.

The thing with Rollo's actor is that he is a nice person and he DEFINITELY knows how to play a good villain as well as serious roles like this, but he likes to see how long they can keep a straight face during production and oh boy it was EVIDENT when Malleus's actor kept screwing up the rant when he realized that Rollo tricked him because of all the stupid gags his actor did off set because he kept giggling so much. It honestly took several takes before he finally nailed it.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst thoughts #twst au #actor au #glorious masquerade #twisted wonderland rollo #twst rollo #rollo flamme

46 notes · View notes

masterjedilenawrites · 1 day ago

Note

Hi!!! I listening to the Florence and the Machine song “girl with one eye” and it got me in a super angsty mood, and I had this idea that what if reader saves Rex from being tortured like a heroine and does the dramatic bridal carry and everything, instead of the usual reader being saved like a lot of fics end up writing in terms of super angst (absolutely no hate, I love those too) I just think it would be nice to see the reader being extremely capable!

You obviously do not have to write anything like this, I just had the idea and you are by far one of my favorite writers (my dyslexic ass cant write for shit)

Anyways, hope you have a wonderful day!

Saving Rex

Rex x reader | 4.4k words

Content: torture (not shown but discussed), injuries, general angst, reader with some physical strength/stamina, friends to lovers, hope and love prevail

Note: I'd really like to believe I could carry Rex down a flight of stairs if I needed to. Maybe I'll use that for motivation during my next workout 😝 (Also this got really emotional in some places, please don't hate me)

To say you were panicking was an understatement. Rex had never been this late to a rendezvous. And with comms jammed, there weren't many options to figure out what could be keeping him. It was one of your only nightmares coming true. Something happening to that noble, wonderful man you called a friend.

You paced restlessly between the walls of the bunker, an eye on the door at all times. Any noise, any howl of the wind or scrape of someone's boot on the concrete floor, made you twitch in alarm. You had never experienced the seconds ticking by so slowly. Kriff, where was he?

"You should get some rest."

While you watched the door, Anakin watched you. Normally he would tease over any emotion you showed for his Captain; no matter how much you tried to keep such feelings under wraps, the Jedi always seemed to sense the truth anyway. But now he put jokes aside and did what he could to quell your anxieties.

You only shook your head in response and continued your pacing.

Anakin sighed and fell back in his chair. The other men in the bunker were anxious, too. Even if he couldn't feel it, he could see it all around. Bouncing knees. Fiddling with random objects. Untouched food and unspoken words. No one was going to sleep, even though everyone needed it. It was going to be a long night. Unless Rex found his way back.

Anakin could admit he was worried for the clone, too. They had fought alongside each other for so long now, it didn't seem possible that there'd be a day where one of them was no longer standing. But what he couldn't admit, at least not to anyone else, was that he had a very bad feeling this time. He kept trying to reach out in the Force, find some trace of his comrade out there, and he kept coming back with an even worse feeling than before.

A sudden sound at the door caused everyone to sit up, tense and hopeful. Three knocks with a very specific rhythm. Someone from your team. You could barely breathe as you waited for Anakin to open the door.

Ahsoka hurried through, along with a gust of wind that fluttered some of the more lightweight objects around the room. Anakin quickly shut it behind her. You'd almost forgotten she had been out, too. Gone to look for Rex, help him get back. But she hadn't brought anyone back with her. Now you really couldn't breathe.

"What'd you find?" asked Anakin, noting the urgent expression on the young girl's face.

"They've taken him to the fortress across the south bridge. I followed a... trail," she quickly glanced over at you, omitting what the trail was composed of for your sake, though you could make an educated guess if you had to. "They have him in a tower. I couldn't get eyes on him, but... Well, I could hear him."

Her face screwed up in distress at the memory and everyone in the room knew exactly what she meant.

"Any way we can carry out an extraction?" asked Anakin.

"If not now, then when?" You marched forward, determined and resolute. You could breathe again, though just barely. "Nighttime. Storm. Now is the only time."

Anakin still looked to his padawan for confirmation. She'd seen the fortress and would know whether it was a risk worth taking, even for someone as dear to them as Rex.

To your satisfaction, Ahsoka didn't hesitate to nod quickly. "That's why I hurried back as fast as I could. I couldn't get to him on my own, but with a small team...."

"It'll have to be really small. We can't risk blowing our cover here," Anakin agreed and finally uncrossed his arms. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been holding himself this whole time. But now there was some hope, and all that was needed to reach it was a bit of daring action. Something he was never in short supply of, and something hew knew Rex wouldn't hesitate to do for him if the roles were reversed.

"You, me," you motioned to yourself and Anakin. "Ahsoka can keep guard here."

"And me," came a clone's voice by your side. All of them were intently listening to the conversation, and while any one of them would have been eager to volunteer to save their Captain, one knew he was needed more than any other. Kix.

"There may not be time to administer first aid on sight," Anakin cautioned.

Kix puffed himself up a bit. "I'll do what I can. You two focus on getting us out without a fuss."

Anakin smirked and you cast him a grateful smile of your own. This was not an ideal outcome, learning that Rex was in distress. But at least he wasn't dead yet, and you could work with that. Now his fate was in your hands. And with a burning fire in your heart, you knew you would save him.

- - -

Rex waited until the echoing of their footsteps was gone before allowing himself to collapse. His knees hit cold stone but the jolt was barely felt amongst the rest of the pain radiating throughout his body. He curled in on himself, arms gently folding around the worst of the injuries in his middle, and his head hung low in exhaustion.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. He hated the thought, but it was true. An entire day of torment and torture, relentless and unforgiving. Even with all his training, this situation was proving difficult to bear.

There was only one thing keeping him alive, he was sure of it. You. The memories of your smile, your laughter, all the lovely things you somehow said at just the right times. The thought of you continuing on without ever knowing how he felt. You were strong and capable in your own right, but he still wanted to be there for you. To protect you. To love you.

Gods, how he loved you.

He couldn't be broken in this place. No, not before seeing you one more time. He would give you his heart, and then he could finally let go.

- - -

Your feet thunked against each step of the spiraling stone stairs. Anakin's and Kix's were not far behind. Only a few guards and droids had had to be taken care of thus far, done swiftly and discretely by the two soldiers while you focused on navigating through the labyrinth of the fortress to the tower that held Rex. But as soon as you'd reached the door leading upward, Anakin had voiced his unease. Worse was coming, he insisted. And if they proceeded, they'd be just as trapped in that tower as their Captain was.

You pushed forward without a second thought.

And they reluctantly followed.

You weren't dumb. You knew it was foolish to rush into an enemy's territory with no plan and no backup. You knew you could be condemning Rex with your impulsive actions rather than saving him. But somehow, those sensible thoughts were overwhelmed by a deep and desperate need to find him at any cost. If you could just see him, then everything would be okay.

Thunk, thunk, thunk. One step and then another and another. Your lungs heaved and your thighs burned but you kept climbing. You weren't sensitive to the Force, but you swear you could feel yourself getting closer to him.

The sudden sound of a lightsaber igniting behind you finally gave you pause. You stumbled on the next step as you slowed and turned. Anakin had stopped several steps below and was staring downward, waiting for something.

"What is it, sir?" Kix huffed beside him.

Anakin only held up a finger as if he were trying to listen. You were panting, too, and tried to hold in a breath so you could hear whatever he could. There was only the hum of a lightsaber and the wailing of the wind from the other side of stone walls.

And then suddenly there was pounding. The whole tower seemed to shake with the thunderous footsteps of soldiers making their way upward, blocking your only way back out. Anakin jerked his head toward you.

"Go. Find him. I'll push them back."

As Anakin rushed downward, Kix wavered in between. Rex would need his aid, but his aid would be worthless if they couldn't escape. He finally looked back at you, too.

"You've got this," he stated before raising his blaster and following General Skywalker.

You resumed your trek upward, your attention slipping back to its previous singular focus of finding Rex. Of seeing him again. Alive.

You finally reached the top of the tower and were met with a simple wooden door. Again, you knew you should slow down and think through a strategy. What if there were guards on the other side? What if their blades slipped because you startled them? But you couldn't help yourself. You'd come too far to not burst right through.

There were no guards. There were no blades. But there was, thankfully, distressingly, Rex.

He was slumped against the far wall. Motionless. You crossed the room with a few bounding strides and gently pulled him away from the wall.

You'd anticipated him being in bad shape, but not to this extent. His armor was stripped and the tattered clothes they had him in instead did nothing to hide his condition. Bruises along his arms. A sickly pallor to his skin. Dark circles beneath his eyes and cracks along his lips. His head swung toward you listlessly as you turned him. You quickly positioned his body against yours and your hand cradled his head in support.

"Rex," you coaxed, willing your voice to remain strong. Panic wouldn't help him like this. "Rex, it's okay. We're going to get you out of here. Okay?"

His eyelids fluttered but couldn't seem to stay open. He did turn toward your voice, and through a series of near-unintelligible mutters, you managed to make out your name.

"Yes," you smiled, moving your hand to cup the side of his head so you could run a soothing thumb along his cheek. "Yes, it's me. I'm here. I've got you. You're okay now."

He shifted his arms, and at first you thought he was ready to try standing. You made to move, too, but then noticed he was doing something else. He held his hand over his chest, on the side of his heart. And then slowly, his other hand reached out to rest onto your chest.

You shook your head at him, not understanding. Was he hurt there? Did they do something to his heart?

Then Rex's worn face contorted into what could only be a smile. A small but serene smile, like he'd finally found peace. The smile slowly slipped away and his body started to feel heavier in your arms.

Now you couldn't keep the panic at bay. It came out in full force, along with tears and desperate squeezing.

"No no no. Rex. Wake up, Rex. Please. You can rest soon but we have to leave first. Okay? We have to go now. Please."

You didn't know what to do beyond pleading and shaking him. He couldn't slip away now, not when you'd just gotten here. A part of you had hoped that maybe, just by seeing you, his spirits would lift. That you would be that little kickstart to his heart that'd help him keep going. But sadly, it seemed your fantasies of him returning your affections were only that. In reality, you could have been anybody coming to his rescue, and you'd be too late either way.

No. You shook yourself now. No, it didn't matter how he felt or didn't feel. You loved him. That fire in your heart was still burning, and you were going to get him out of here alive.

You carefully but swiftly got your legs back under you, still keeping Rex's body supported as you maneuvered each other into the right position. You weren't a soldier. You didn't have the same build as the clones. But damn if you weren't just as determined and capable. So with a deep, steadying breath, you heaved his body across your back. One of your arms wrapped around his closest leg, keeping it tight against your side as you reached across to grab at his arm. He was heavy, but secure, and you knew you could carry him this way for as long as it'd take to escape. And as an added bonus, you'd heard a soft grunt from him as he'd bent over your shoulders. He was still alive.

You wasted no time standing around with the extra weight. You were back out the door and heading down the stairs faster than you could register. One hand running along the wall for balance and the other firmly grasped on Rex's forearm. Your thighs had done the most work to get you up the stairs; now it was your knees taking the brunt of effort going down. In your mind you alternated between prayers for your joints and prayers for Rex's life.

The sounds of your steps were drowned by the reverberating sounds of combat. The echoes made it hard to tell their distance away as you continued your descent. You braced yourself for the inevitable, feeling more and more grateful the further you went without sight of any blaster fire. You estimated only a quarter of the way left by the time you met some of the carnage on the stairs. Sizzling metal and blaster marks on the walls. It was another several of floors of picking your way between it all before you then came across Kix and Anakin. They'd made good progress pushing the onslaught back.

You hovered just beyond their reach so as to keep Rex away from the crossfire. Anakin's lightsaber did most of the work to keep the enemy at a distance, though occasionally a shot would ricochet onto the wall by your head. But slowly and surely, you were all able to make it down to the next step. Lower and lower. Closer and closer to the end.

Eventually Kix was able to pause in his help and scurry up to check on Rex. He nodded at you when he confirmed a pulse but was just as unsuccessful as you in his efforts to get the Captain to wake.

"Dehydration, possible blood loss from these wounds here," the medic chattered, more to himself than anyone, as he dug through his pack. He tore open a bacta patch and slapped it across an oozing mess of scabs on Rex's shoulder and then handed you a stim while he continued to rummage.

You jabbed the stim into the back of Rex's thigh, thrilled that you managed to elicit another groan from him. Any sign of life was a good one at this point.

"Need me to take over?" Kix asked once he'd found a breathing mask and stood back up. You shook your head, already heading back down the stairs. Anakin had managed to get through a good amount more of the droids. Kix shrugged and then rushed ahead to continue laying down blaster fire.

The fight to escape took far longer than anyone would have wanted. Even once you'd made it out of the stuffy tower, there was the maze of hallways to run back through, and more enemies to fight along the way. All hopes of a stealthy rescue were long gone. It made you nervous, wondering if you'd be able to make it out at all, at this point. The further you moved into the open, the harder it was to keep fighting. If you were lucky enough to make it outside the fortress of droids, then you'd be surrounded by a storm. You were but a Jedi, a medic, and a civilian staff member carrying a near-unconscious soldier. The path forward was looking rather grim.

You eventually got yourselves into what seemed to be a supply closet. You knew there was a service door leading outside down one end of the hall, and the front entrance to the fortress itself was only around another corner as well. But you were flanked by droids on either side. Anakin kept the door to the closet open so he could continue to pick off the droids, while you were finally able to take a break from carrying Rex as Kix more properly tended to some of his injuries.

"How's he looking?" Anakin asked over his shoulder. He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be. He was glad Rex was alive, but they were all running out of options. From his estimates, they'd either need to surrender and think through a better escape plan later, or barrel forward with a Hail Mary and hope for the best. Either option would be difficult with Rex in this state. If he was getting worse... if he wasn't going to make it... Anakin shuddered at the thought of having to make that call.

Kix didn't immediately answer. He'd removed the breathing mask which seemed to have sparked some energy back into Rex. He was groaning and huffing, clutching at his midsection and rolling his head back and forth restlessly. Kix tried getting his attention but the Captain only continued to fidget and groan.

"Was he like this when you found him?" Kix asked you.

"No, he was quieter. He knew who I was, though."

Kix motioned for you to come closer. "See if he'll respond to you again."

"Rex." You quickly saddled up by his side, ignoring the pain in your back and legs from crouching. "Rex, look at me. It's okay. Just breathe. You'll be okay."

Surprisingly, your voice seemed to work. Rex stilled, turning his head toward the sound. That weird little smile crept back on his face.

"Rex?"

He responded with your name, small and rasping, but clear all the same. You couldn't help but smile in return.

"Oh good, you are awake enough."

With lightning speed, Kix was back in view with a vial of... something. He tipped it into Rex's mouth and held his hand over to keep the Captain from spitting it back out. Rex sputtered and writhed against Kix's hand but eventually swallowed the liquid down with a hard, painful gulp. Rex's eyes had shot open in the process. They were red, but alert.

"It's okay," you tried soothing again. Rex relaxed against the wall he was propped against and locked his eyes with yours.

"You... came... for me?" he croaked out.

You nodded. For a second, you could have sworn tears were brimming in Rex's eyes. Maybe it was only the medicine.

"Hate to ruin the moment," Anakin called back out. The blaster fire from the hall had grown louder, closer. "But we're out of time here. Kix, anything in this closet we can fashion into a grenade?"

The medic scrambled up to look amongst the shelves.

"Rex, you able to stand? I need you both shooting blasters if you can manage it."

"I will try."

Rex was already trying to push himself off the wall. You wrapped an arm around his back and help hoist him up. His legs shook wildly from the sudden weight. You kept him leaning against you, one arm over your shoulder.

"It's okay, I've got you."

Rex smiled down at you, far too softly for what the situation allowed. You held his gaze with surprise.

Kix was pouring random bottles into each other, hoping they'd make the desired effect. Anakin was cursing as the droids drew nearer. Rex seemed to be trying to tell you something with his eyes. And just when you were about to suggest looking into the air vent situation of this place, there came a large and reverberating kaboom.

You all froze. Including the droids, who then appeared to have been given new orders as they neatly turned in the opposite direction and marched away. Something had happened by the entrance. After a few moments, you could hear their blasters firing again, along with the sounds of other weapons. Familiar weapons. Anakin grinned.

"Obi-Wan," he said before running after them.

You could've cried. Instead, you looked back up at Rex and smiled.

"Ready to go home?"

- - -

You hadn't left Rex's side for a second, much to Kix's chagrin. It was that much harder to heal a battered brother with a stubborn civvy sitting in the way. But, despite his many grumbling complaints, he still let you stay. He knew your heart. And Rex's. It'd be best for both of you to keep close, until you knew each other's.

Though when Rex did wake, you could barely get out one tearfully happy hello before seemingly everyone else on base came to his side, too.

"Thank the gods you're alive!"

"Glad you're okay, brother."

"Good to have you back."

"Can't keep a good man down."

Rex appreciated their words, he really did. He tried not to notice how silent you'd fallen amongst them. It was your words he wanted to hear most.

"How did we get out of there?" he instead asked Anakin. He remembered waking in a dark room, Kix shoving something down his throat, your voice as you sweetly called his name. Beyond that was a blur. He was pretty sure he'd passed out once he tried walking.

"I kept think about the storm," Ahsoka was the one to answer instead. "And how it would give them cover getting to the fortress. And then I thought if they happened to get caught, that'd provide just enough distraction for us to start with a good attack."

"And by us, she of course means the 212th," smirked Cody. Obi-Wan was busy sending word back to Coruscant on the mission, though they all owed it to the Jedi's decision to go looking for General Skywalker and the missing 501st. Without the added reinforcements, Ahsoka's plan wouldn't have stood a chance.

"We're just really glad you're alive, Rex," Ahsoka said softly.

"Yeah, we don't know what we would have done without you," said Anakin, though he was looking toward you as he said it. Everyone else followed his gaze, causing you to blush at the sudden attention.

"They carried you the whole way, you know," Anakin added, now directed toward Rex.

Rex's eyes grew wide, impressed.

"Don't you remember?" prompted Kix.

"I... remember you finding me," Rex told you. "In that cell. I remember feeling hope again."

Your ears were still hot from Anakin's obvious insinuations of your feelings, and now everyone was giving each other looks at Rex's words. You decided to deflect with some humor.

"Right before you tried to cop a feel," you smirked.

That did the trick. A chorus of salacious oohs and laughter rang through the rank of clones gathered. Fives went up and clapped Rex's shoulder, his bad one. Rex's wincing caused Kix to hastily shoo away Fives and everyone else making a ruckus. You remained, noticing that through it all, Rex had a blush rivaling your own.

"I... I didn't..." he stammered once most of his visitors had disappeared. Anakin gave you one last look before then coaxing Ahsoka to leave as well.

"It's okay," you reassured. "You were out of it."

"No, I wasn't, I... I was..." Rex huffed. He was having a hard time finding the right words. "Never mind, it's silly."

He fell back against the pillows with a sigh. You scooted your stool forward and rested your hands on the bedside.

"Please tell me, Rex. I feel like you've been trying to tell me something ever since I found you. But I was so focused on trying to keep you alive, I didn't understand. I'm sorry."

Rex smiled back at you, encouraged. "It's alright. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I would make it out alive. But I... well... I didn't want to let go without..." He paused, embarrassed again. This was going to sound ridiculous if you didn't feel the same.

"Without...?"

"Without giving you my heart first."

He looked at you hesitantly to find your lips had parted in surprise.

"I know. It was a silly thought--"

"No," you breathed. Your hands now slid from the blanket onto his. The memory of him in your arms, beaten and bruised, using what strength he had left to gesture between his heart and yours... you wished you'd understood then. You'd thought he hadn't cared for you in that way at all.

Rex's eyes watered along with yours as your hands clasped together and a newfound understanding settled in between.

"You can't ever disappear on me like that again," you said with a wobble in your voice. "Anakin's right, I don't know what I would have done without you. I... I love you too much to even think of it."

Rex brought your hands up to meet his lips. He kissed your knuckles softly.

"I love you, too. And... I think I'm going to need to reconsider some things, knowing that you love me back."

He gazed over your clasped hands and met the eyes of Anakin, on the other side of the medbay looking in on the other patients. He wasn't the only injured soldier from the mission. General Skywalker was a good man for checking on them, just as he would do once he could stand on his own feet again. The look he now shared with the Jedi was one of agreement. A lot had changed from this mission, and a lot would need to still change. Love, sometimes, took priority even in war. Anakin knew that better than most.

"I don't want you to--" you started to say as realization dawned. But Rex quickly shook his head.

"We have time to discuss it. Right now, just let me hold you."

You didn't need to be asked twice. Helping him carefully scoot over, you then slipped under the hospital blanket and tucked yourself in at his side. It felt right, like where you were always meant to be.

Your worst nightmare had played out in a harrowing day of panic and fear. And now your greatest dream was nestled at your side, safe and sound and alive. It had been a frightening price to pay, one you hoped you'd never have to spend again, but the heart you now held was surely a worthy reward.

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93,

@arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831,

@cdblake1565, @msmeredithrose

Clone Bois Tag: @kaijusplotch, @rebel-finn, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd,

@nekotaetae, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles,

@foodmoneyandcats, @nahoney22, @dangraccoon, @lulalovez, @skellymom,

@aconstructofamind, @the-mom-friend-dot-com, @tardisgirl420

Cannot tag (please update your blog settings to allow tagging or notify me of a name change): @the-stars-ar3-with-us, @horoscope-misreader96

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

🌙 Master Master List | ☘️ Stories Master List

#star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #rex x reader #angst #rescue #reverse damsel in distress trope #january fics

23 notes · View notes