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freshlyrage · 2 months ago

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Running Like Water

Chapter 32

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 6k

A/N: I fear its safe to say I don't do well with change. I moved back to school and couldn't find my groove. Who knew I just needed a little ovulation and commute to work time to bang this one out. Chapter 33 will be arriving shortly.

Well Javier was on the floor. Without a complaint. The two of you didn’t stay too long at the fair considering each ride had a wait time of forty five minutes. In the car you decided to keep your hotel but still be open to staying over, when it was appropriate. So now you’re on his bed, back in one of his shirts. Surrounded by him. Criss crossed while he’s sat up on the floor.

“You could come up here.” You offer, removing your rings and placing it on his nightstand. Already claiming his space as your own, too natural for you. The offer has him quirking a brow. It was a test, you know he shouldn’t. Shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t.” He settles into the mattress, pulling the blankets to his shoulders. “We could talk like this.” Grunting from adjusting his newly relaxed body. You move forward on your stomach so that he could see you. Resting your head on your arms. You smile feeling like two kids at a sleepover, whispering and peering over the bed to see if the other fell asleep yet.

“Good you passed that one. Let's continue shall we?”

The game of 21 questions was more like two hundred questions and it continued all the way into the house.

Did you date?

I thought you asked me not to tell you about all of that.

I said I don't want to hear about Camila or Daniela or whoever.

You remember their names?

Yes, I couldn’t sleep and thought about a Camila under you. He flexes his jaw at that.

I went on two dates, which were set up by my partner Steve Murphy and his wife. They ended with goodbyes after dinner. Never spoke to them again.

I went on some dates too.

I don’t want to hear about that. You pinch him on the elbow and he shrugs. We’re different about that stuff, I hate to hear it. You nod and get the urge to apologize but fight it.

Now in bed he clears his throat, “Alright. Tell me what your apartment looks like?”

You smile, “It’s a steal for the area. I actually have a bedroom for the price of a studio. My rooms a bit more eclectic than my one here. My bedding is white but my room walls are a burgundy color. There’s no closet so I have a clothing rack. None of my living room furniture is new… it’s all second hand from stoop sales or whatever. My birds shit without batting an eye so I opted not to be dumb about that. What did yours look like?”

His eyes are closed for a moment like he’s trying to imagine it. “Hmmm.. it was dim in there, always. The kitchen and living room were open, a few steps to lead you to the living room. I had a leather couch and a desk. My television was pretty nice. Nothing was really– mine. I tried not to make it feel lived in because I didn’t want to get attached to that place–that world.” There’s a face that you’ve never really seen from him until you’ve been here. It’s one nearly blank but you know the way his face moves, there's a small crease in his brows and he clenches his jaw. Like talking about Colombia pained him and he has to conceal it. Almost like a child admitting to their faults after a spanking. Quiet, embarrassed, unsure, and on the verge of breakdown. “You would have hated it there.”

Probably. You just nod the best you can while laying down. Waiting for his question.

“Um…” He closes one eye, like it’ll help him think. He opts to go silent for a moment like he conjured a question but was waging his options.

Should I? Is this a line I shouldn’t cross? Is the wound still open? “Have you heard from your father?”

You frown for a second. Off put and taken off guard. Remembering the day, remember the rolling grass, low hanging branches and the cold demeanor from the one person she needed warmth from. Hearing urgent and violent words like I love you. Promising to take care of you.

“No. I never went back there. He never called me even though I’m sure my grandmother told him I moved to Louisiana. I stopped needing him after I got to know him.” You rarely thought of him, just the concept of being without a parent. Then you became an educator and realized that anyone you call family is your own. Your students taught you that, so did Javier years earlier but you suppose maybe you weren’t ready to accept it yet.

Javier hums to himself, staring at the ceiling. Contemplating if he should really share the way he had felt. Afraid it would break some rule in this delicate game you’ve got going. Wondering if you’ll furrow your brow and turn you back to sleep or internalize what’s climbing up, up, up his throat.

“If this is… against your rules you don’t have to say anything or we could move on…”

“Okay.”

Again he can’t look at you. How is it that you reduce him to a shy young boy?

“There’s nothing more that I want in life than to be the father of your kids.” There he goes leaping over the bounds to which he’s left in, but he can’t help it. It’s all he thinks about, all he thought about three years ago and it plagued him every time you spoke of your own father. He doesn’t see you but he can feel your eyes closed, silent, internalizing it all. After all, you'd never turn your back on him. “No one will ever know you like me. Love you, sure, but not as much as me. You’re too easy to love. But I know that you could show me what a mother looks like and I could show you what a father looks like. Our kids will never be in pain the way we were. Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or-or confused. It’s all I thought about when I was away. And I’m so sorry for ever making you think I didn’t want you in that way.” Because he should have known that it was a deep point of insecurity for you, a deep well created by your parents. Urge to be loved, to create something and love it in a much fiercer and kinder way than your parents did you. Lorraine being able to have all that you wanted came like slice to the stomach.

Sniffling, you rub your face into the crook of your arm. Hiding from Javier. He looks this time and he doesn’t try to hold your hand like you’re itching for.

“Thank you… I—.” You wipe your face. Not willing to open the can of worms this could conjure if you just told him straight up that you’d be willing to start now. Fuck the trial, fuck trying to learn each other again, let’s start a family. Be irrational but be happy. You decide to keep it together. You thank him and he knows it’s genuine, you see it in his eyes. He understands your reluctance. “I found that I don’t have the need for many people in my life-“

“I need you.” He says before you. Like he did when he said he loved you. Throat bobbing, he pulls his sheets over him. “I’ll wait for you, until you need me again.”

“Can never get enough of each other huh.” Chucho chuckles while washing his hands in the sink. Boots clean and squeaking against the floor. It was a part of his routine, cleaned his boots every night even if he worked the next morning.

Last night you fell asleep with your face buried into the crook of your arm. Hand dangling off the mattress, grazing Javier’s neck. Need to touch, woke up with a sore arm. Bleary eyed you notice there’s no-body by the bed. Silent but the sound of running water.

That’s how you found Chucho, ready for the day at 8 am. Embarrassingly you pad into the kitchen in Javier’s shirt and boxers.

You shrug, he hands you a cup of coffee. Nodding a thank you, “We have established clear boundaries. We are just spending quality time. We have a lot to make up for.” You say it with a bit of a half awake half still dreaming slur that has Javier’s father beaming.

“Well if that’s what you’re calling it nowadays, so be it. I won’t be back until four pm.” He places his cup down and starts walking away. Your jaw drops and you nearly run after him. But you know he’s fucking with you, his shoulders bounce.

“It’s not like that!” You call and he waves a hand at you over his shoulder and steps straight out of his own home. Screen door slamming with a brisk breeze.

You hear a sneeze, “What’s not like that?” Your head snaps and eyes lock with Javier’s. Freshly showered, hair so wet it droops on his forehead. He looks younger this way. Grey shirt loose with jeans to match. Socked feet, he looks like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. At least seeing him like this makes you want to find a nest for yourself in his bed. You can’t help but smile at him.

He’s skeptical of your cheery mood. Brows furrowing, nostrils flared but a hint of a smile. He’s cautious, like he knows you’re up to something. You aren’t, at all. You’re just giddy and it’s only been two days and you feel your boundaries loosening. Just wanting to find that place you yearn for. Just run to him now, kiss him, tell him to put a baby in you. Grab, pull, lick, love, whatever came with it. You decide to control yourself a bit.

Your eyes drop to his hands, he’s holding three VHS tapes. Your brows furrow just the same, wondering what movie he wanted to see with you. It wasn’t a thing the two of you ever did. Your time spent was short and only for conversations and kisses. And pot, back before everything. You had to stop smoking after getting your teaching gig.

You want to say something bratty like, assuming I’m staying for some home videos? But you can’t even do that, lord when did you become such a softie? “Big plans?” Is all you can manage to croak.

He shrugs, “Are you staying?” He says it without shame, you know it must take a lot for a man to nearly beg. You know he means please stay.

You look at him once more and down at your boxer clad legs. Shrugging. “I suppose”

Eric Fredricks' family owned a Haitian restaurant off main street. It was a small take out spot that had been bustling with business since 1961. Eric was your classmate. A friend of everyone, known for his large digital camera he carried around school. The loud, goofy kid shoved his damn camera in everyone’s faces. Annoyed or not, he would always say, “When you fuckers are forty you’re really going to appreciate these recordings!”

Well, each year he cut, edited and burned these tapes as his own NR rated yearbook videos. Selling them around school and you bought one each year. He was chill with the price for you just because you always perked up in front of his camera. Ready to gleam and answer whatever stupid questions he had like;

“Andrea, how does it feel to be the worst lacrosse player in Laredo history?”

“Or Andrea, what are your thoughts on today’s LHS Chilli special? “

You always answered with the same slapstick humor he had. You thought you lost these tapes years ago. Javier seemed to remind you that you left them at his house, might’ve been when Javier was in Houston.

He was right, your mother’s VHS player stopped working in 1982. You remember popping these tapes in and watching them during your winter break from Miami. Chucho snoring on the lazy boy, saved him from watching the closest thing he had to a daughter do a keg stand with her skirt flipped up towards her chest.

“I’ve never seen these.” Javier grunts when he straightens back up and walks to sit next to you on the brown couch. A couch with the tendency to swallow you whole. You remember Javier on his knees before you, pillow covering your spread legs while he unlaced your boots.

“Well you left so…” You grab the control and snicker, pressing play.

“Hah. Hand me that.” he gestures to the pack of cigarettes on the side table. You shake your head no and settle into the seat. “Cmon.”

“No. No smoking in the house.” You snap at the tv, “Watch.”

It’s Eric’s face, he’s sitting in his bedroom. “Hello. I’m Eric Fredricks. I’m fifteen and my passion is digital media. The yearbook club is full of hacks and strokes, so I’m going to make my own. The date is September 21st 1979. Ok bye!” the film glitches and the camera makes its way down the hall. Faces of people who you haven’t seen in years. Hairstyles forgotten, thank god. Winks at the camera, sly comments from Eric behind it. He asks questions in his interview segment that would never make it to the school's video yearbook.

“What does Eric do now?” Javier asks. It’s easy to forget that he missed so many crucial moments. He missed the infamous lunch box incident in 81', Laredos first soccer championship, the halloween rager that led to the assembly—all of that. You wonder if that’s normal, for the development of a person. To be plucked out of childhood and forced to be an adult while everyone else got to worry about if their drivers test aligned with their basketball practice schedule. Burdened with the responsibility of a person's livelihood is no place for a seventeen year old.

You bring your knees to your chest, finding the most comfort when you're guided and held. “Last I heard he was doing media production for Saturday Night Live. Like in New York City.”

He feels it too, you see the way his brows quirk. How he almost frowns. “That’s crazy—how different things went for everyone else.” You knew at that moment that the tape would be mere background noise.

“You— you know you made a name for yourself too.”

Hm.

You weren’t sure if that’s what you wished to say. He doesn’t get upset with you for it. He chooses to let it slide and for that you’re grateful because you hadn’t had a clue about what to say to him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles but doesn’t seem to be that amused. He pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning his head against the back of the couch. There’s not much to be said anymore. Lorraine changed the fabric of his being, so did the DEA. And maybe you too. His hand splayed on his knee, knuckles red from repeated trauma to the area. You opted to abandon the topic in general. Seeing his stomach tighten up under the thin fabric of his t-shirt when the choice was your hand on his. Small, soft, against his.

The two of you relish in the harmless intimacy, you give each other this. Tiny touches could be enough.

The two of you watch the bootlegged documentary in mostly silence. Rotating who strokes the other with their thumbs. You think about turning your cheek, kissing him. Pressing close and making out for a bit. A casual make out, breathy and gripping. You decide against it. This would be so easy if it was anyone else but him.

It’s not because you feel like you can’t control yourself—it’s not like a make out with Javier Peña would have your panties at your ankles. You could control yourself more than that. What it is—is that you’ll take advantage of those little liberties. Sneaking kisses at any time and when you go back home, you’ll be lost without it.

Maybe you’re doomed anyway, because if this doesn’t work out you don't know what you’ll do knowing you can’t just hold his hand.

Your brother comes out on halloween with a fang induced lisp drunkenly reciting the alphabet backwards at a party while Eric cackles behind the camera. It makes you laugh so hard you cry, missing being young. Missing your brother.

Lorraine pops up. High ponytail with red cheeks from gym class. Hands on her hips, it’s wrong for such an evil person to be so beautiful. You look at Javier and there’s a frown on his face.

He wonders why she was so bad to him, what he did to deserve to be plagued by her. He regrets knowing her, it’s hard for him to watch her smile.

Then you show up and Javier’s eyebrows raise. “I remember that day.” He mutters. There you are, looking the same just with that baby fat at the apple of your cheeks. Your hair was the closest to its natural brown, your pants were severely high waisted and your shirt a lacy shawl like thing. You’re at a locker taping a flier about lacrosse tryouts when the camera rushes you.

“Andrea Diaz! How does it feel to be Laredos worst lacrosse player?” Javier snorts next to you, squeezing your hand. That’s what he would do, come up to you and ask the dumbest, rudest questions. There, a fifteen year old Andrea rolls her eyes and rolls her thumb to secure the tape.

Crossing her arms, “I’ll answer your dumb questions if you’re nicer about it.” You cringe at the sound of your own voice, sounding awfully juvenile. Javier’s entire demeanor goes soft. All it took was the sound of you—back then, for him to forget the panic in his gut when watching Lorraine in her prime.

“Alright sure-sure- Andrea Diaz how does it feel to be the sexiest girl in all of Laredo?” Eric had quite the country accent, it made every line delivered feel like that of a typecasted movie star.

Quirking a brow, “I wouldn’t know. I could ask your mother.”

“All right that’s enough! You’re impossible to please ,woman!” Eric yells from behind the camera and it fades in little blocks to you getting set up for a keg stand.

You’re in a skirt and a flowing yellow top. Stumbling a bit, Daniel holds your shoulder to keep you upright. You try not to think too hard about the images you’ve left in people’s minds while you were drunk. Javier is getting more and more tense each passing moment. His hold on your hand becomes just a hold and no longer a soothing stroke.

You’re cringing at yourself, flipping your hair and chanting that you could do it while Daniel holds your waist. Hands trailing over your stomach, you almost forget that before Javier you had your fair share of hookups, him your most consistent.

The date on the corner March 1st 1980.

Drunkenly you lean forward and another one of your peers holds your other leg while another shoves a tap in your mouth. The entire party off screen and on, start chanting your name with whoops. That’s when your skirt flips and exposes the plain blue panties.

You cover your eyes.

“I don’t like this.” Is all that Javier can say, on the screen no one covers you until a random classmate of yours, Jenna? Or was it Jessa? Runs to your aid and calls all the men pigs before holding your skirt in its place. You’re dropped down and again you stumble backward into the arms of your pseudo boyfriend.

And then you yak all over the floor.

“Jesus christ I forgot about that.” You rub your eyes afraid to look over at Javier.

“Did—anything-“

“No. Well I think we went to someone’s room and made out. Then I walked home.”

His head nearly falls off his shoulders. “He let you walk home like that?” Javi grits, letting go of your hand.

You shrug, “Dunno, high school shit.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Your brows furrow, he’s being ridiculous but you know he can’t help it. He wanted—wants, nothing more than to take care of those he loves. You watch the video back, seeing your young eyes and wish to take care of her too. You can’t even imagine him. He only lets you know the surface level of his concern for you. You know it’s more than wishing you had called him.

You had before, panicked and blushing using the party home phone.

You decide calling him ridiculous would be in bad faith. You just lean your head on his shoulder. Moving your hand from his and holding his bicep instead. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Face softening along with his tense shoulders. “I don’t know. I was sixteen and stupid. And drunk.” Your cheek feels too good there.

He’s studying you. You wished you could read him in these moments. When he’s so in his head, he’s taking you in completely. “Can you? Now I mean.”

Your lips quirk and the apples or your cheeks redden. Pulling your brows because sometimes he’s too sweet it gives you a toothache. “I live in New York, Javi.”

“I know.” He’s close enough to kiss. “But I want you to call me anyway. If you ever feel unsafe or unsure—i know how twisted a human can be—i’ve seen-“

There it is. He’s cut off by a kiss on his shoulder.

“I will.” It’s a featherlight whisper and he does that thing again. That look, this time with a bit of restraint. The two of you focus on the screen again.

Twenty minutes into the forty-six minute video the two of you revert back to telling stories about the students on the screen and laughing at how high school, your high school experience really was.

“This is great, hottest couple in the school right in front of me.” Eric laughs, camera pointed at the ground then quickly shot up. Blurring than focusing on Javier at his locker. He looked so young, red cap on his head with a Righteous Brothers t-shirt. The image of him as a seventeen year old in your head had been fading for a few years, but now you’re watching him living, breathing and moving as himself. Smiling once he sees Eric approaching him.

“What the fuck was I wearing?”

You laugh, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Don’t know but I was obsessed with you anyway.”

He makes one of those grunts where you can’t tell if he’s annoyed with himself or with you. You nudge his shoulder with your chin. “What?”

“Makes me feel like such an asshole.”

All you could do was sigh. You know he’d give it all to do it over again. You look at Lorraine and there seems to be love there. It never fails to make your blood boil. You know that loving Javier can make you feel sick, crazy or desperate. But you suppose her love was selfish. For a while you felt like your own love was selfish, not caring for the consequences. But you suppose it was just a natural progression. Miles away from scheming to keep him forever, by ways of manipulation. The look in his eye isn’t the same since you left him.

A young Javier takes Lorraine’s jaw in his hand and kisses her cheek. She rolls her eyes. “He’s obsessed with me.” She smiles and he mumbles a yeah. Your cheeks heat in a rage that’s so juvenile, you want to turn off the entire thing. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Watching your most insecure and turbulent years in front of you. You were obsessed with him, crying furious tears. Avoiding contact. While he was content with her. It’s a nerve that will always be left exposed.

He clears his throat.

“Were you?” You bite. Removing your head from his shoulder, he sinks at the loss. Leaning forward to get a full image of your face. His brows are pulled together in confusion until they soften when he notices this is nothing but you showing him you are still so into him.

He bites back a smirk and you want to smack it off of his face. “Was I what, querida?”

You swear you will-

“Obsessed with her.” Firm, no room for it to sound like a desperate question. This definitely breaks one of your rules. But fuck it, he’s flawed and so are you,

He shuts an eye and shakes his head no. “I liked her. She was pretty. She was my girlfriend…”

You frown, that title belonged to you.

There he is, an inch away from your face with such intensity. “But I would fuck her, and picture you. I imagined that you’d blush the whole time and would pretend like you couldn’t handle me just so I can fuck you harder. Would have to bury my head where she couldn’t hear because I’d come and say your name.” Your cheeks turn cherry red, just how he likes. Cunt pulsing, it betrays you. You’re so flustered and angry with him you want to lean forward and bite him. He doesn’t waiver, he leans much closer. You shudder, feeling crowded by his body. He has the strength to do what he’d like with you, you’re sure you’d put on a fight until you’re unable to lie anymore. You had been soaked the whole damn time. “What? Have I broken your rules?” He whispers, nose nudging your own lightly. You can’t help it, your mouth parts searching for his—

But he backs away and laughs at you. He laughs! Shaking his head like you’re some bastard child. Leaning back cooley and pressing play again. Lorraine’s voice ringing through the speakers.

Absolutely not.

You sit in silence. Staring at him while he’s glued to the image of him and his ex girlfriend. Your chin quivers, and you clench around nothing.

“G-give me the remote.” You blurt. Chest falling, bubbling with anger. He doesn’t look at you but smirks. He ignores you. Eyes welling with tears. “Javi.”

More silence. More her. You reach for his hand and he doesn’t look at you. He isn’t looking at you… so you pounce.

Jumping into his lap, clawing at him while he laughs and hurriedly finds different ways to keep you away from the remote. You’re seeping through your underwear and onto his boxers, your cunt rolling against his crotch unintentionally.

Your brows screw—“Just—Javi please turn it off.” He chuckles again and he’s all of this without focusing on the pain you’re in. Emotionally, sexually, whatever. You reach around him lifting your hips to get ahold of the controller but you lose again. Bouncing on his lap a bit. He grunts.

“Javi— Please- I’m not kidding.”

The tv shuts off with a wiring tone and his eyes finally land on your own. All the playfulness leaves when he realizes. And you feel like a heat sick kitten, rubbing on yourself this way. His brow raises, eyes falling to your tear stained cheek and down your grinding hips. You drop your face into his shoulder. At first he doesn’t touch you, he just watches you. Nose nudging your cheek. Wondering why after everything you’d give it up just to come quick like this.

“Hey… hey.” He whispers at the shell of your ear. “Fuck—Andrea—“

You can only whimper into the crook of his neck. Taking your feel for the girl in those tapes, for the girl who dreamt of him while he did the same. It drove you crazy, it made you violent and horny. “Baby…” His big hands span from your shoulder blades down to the small of your back and then splayed on your ass. Spreading you and rolling you harder. He grunts again. “Andrea… I can’t—we said we wouldn’t—I'm sorry for teasing you—cmon.” His hands move from your behind, come to your front, at your waist and lightly push you away from him.

He’s impossibly hard now, his tan cheeks have a bit more color now. He’s sweating. Feeling embarrassed, you freeze. Eyes dropped to his lap, cunt begging you to move again. You feel the length of him under you, mocking you. You shouldn’t. You know. You know he’s sorry for how rushed and stupid Christmas eve was. You’re still ticked off by it, but he’s doing so good for you.

“I’m sorry… we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Is all you can muster out.

“You know I want to.” He rushes, leaning forward so he can hold your face, it just makes him shift against you again. Your brows furrow at the release.

“Okay…” A drop of sweat builds at the nape of your neck, the both of you are so turned on you’ll fuck each other if you keep this up. “Can we…can I…” You swear if he brings up your rules again you’ll crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment.

He juts his chin at you, egging you to complete your sentence.

You think you’ll die before you say it. Your face brightens real red and you shimmy out of his hold. You crawl off his lap and mutter to yourself. “Sorry, it’s stupid. I should just go.”

He catches your wrist and sits you back down next to him. “Tell me.”

“It’s stupid! And gross probably.”

“We aren’t children.”

You’ve been so open sexually until now. You felt twenty two again, never having orgasmed with another person, afraid to tell him what you wanted. He gave you it all.

“Can we— or can I touch myself?”

Javier’s eyes darken, “You want to touch yourself.”

God it’s like he’s trying to humiliate you.

“Yes.”

He clenches his jaw so tight. “Can I watch? Or do you want to go to my room alone?”

Idiot.

“Can we do it together? Now.” You can’t let the moment pass.

Well, he can’t either. His nostrils flare and he places his hand on his belt. Unbuckling so fast you can’t help but watch. You watch him unbuckle and unzip while you shimmy out of his boxers. His eyes glued to your movements. You feel filthy exposing yourself like this. He lifts his hips and pulls his jeans down a bit, the heft of his cock making a print through his underwear. You remember leaning down and pressing your lips along his bulge once. You’d like to do it again.

You circle your fingers along your clit over your panties. He palms himself.

“Tell me what to do.” You whisper.

“Oh.” He reaches into his boxers and pulls his length out. Your pussy clenches at the sight, a thatch of hair at the base and curved. You touched yourself to the thought of it. You pull your panties down and lift one leg up on the couch, spreading yourself open. “Give me your fingers.”

You furrow your brow but remove them. Bringing your hand to him. His free hand grasps your wrists and he takes no time, he puts the same two fingers in his mouth. You gasp, while he sucks, stroking his dick at the same time. Your fingers are impossibly wet when he stops. Your wrist is still in his hold. “Don’t put any fingers in until I tell you. Just play with your clit for a little.”

You nod, bringing your fingers back to it. Moving in tight circles. Javier’s fist is dry, working his way up and down his shaft— your lips gather with drool—you want to-

“Spit on it. If you want. Or I can.” He reads your mind. You take no time, moving to your knees, your knees knocked together giving you a tighter squeeze for your fingers. Feels even better. You lean into his lap, back arched like a kitten.

Javier groans at the sight. You desperately want to put your mouth on him—my rules, my rules. Spit drips from your mouth and onto the red head of his pretty cock. His hand comes to the back of your head and you moan, wishing he’d push down and force himself into your mouth. But he just strokes the back of your head instead. You lean back into the arm of the couch, you’re no longer side by side. Your whole body is barred for him, you bring your free hand under your shirt. Grabbing your breast and rolling your fingers over your nipples.

He uses your spit and moans audibly now. Grunting in his low baritone, you collect your slick and use it for slip. Your stomach tenses, “Put your finger in. Middle.” You nod and feel even more unsatisfied. “Fuck, I missed that pretty little face you make when something goes inside your cunt.”

“Javi…” You whine throwing your head back, fucking yourself with your small finger.

“I know—fuck.” Pre-cum gathers all over the tips of his fingers. You’ll ask to lick his hand clean when you’re done. “I know your cunt wants my cock again—I’m sorry I can’t.”

“It’s not enough.” Your knees knock together in protest.

“I know-I know. Add another baby. Ring.” You watch his stomach go taut so he slows down his strokes. Licking his lips at the sight of you adding another. “Mm. I miss you so much.” He shudders.

“I’m right here.”

“Please don’t leave me—fuck.” He whines, it’s so unlike him. You watch his tip surge through the tight hole he’s made for himself, he’s close but you’re closer. You can’t believe it’s him asking you this. “I want to follow your rules—show you I’m good—but please let me kiss you.”

The ridges of your fingers aren’t enough, you use your other hand to circle your clit without permission. He’s so caught in his emotions that he doesn’t seem to care that you touched yourself without his command.

He tells you what to do but truly he’s at your will. His eyes well with tears and his brows are pulled together. “Let me take care of you, I’ll do everything you say if you let me kiss you—“

“I can’t— I’m going to come!” Your back arches and it builds. You can’t see him now but you hear his pace, his fist slapping against his base. You writhe and shiver and it comes crashing down. You come hard, you mutter I’m sorry, over and over. And he groans at the sight, you can’t give him what he wants.

You can try and give him something else. You catch your breath and open your eyes. Your own come dripping to the inside of your thighs. He watches in pain, “Baby—” You whisper, fuck that’s against the rules probably. He nods, submissive suddenly. “Come here, come on my cunt.” You want to be marked, he’s yours.

“Andrea—“ still he’s fighting his need to follow your rules.

You nod, “It’s okay, come here.” He lets his length go at once, it twitches at the sudden abandonment. You lean forward and grab his arms, and he finally climbs over you. Reluctant, “Please Javi. Let me have what I want.” Were you power tripping? Yeah. But it was always him in control. You open your legs and he clenches his jaw. “Do you want me to finish it?”

He shakes his head no, you know he wants it. Still he tries to be good. You begin to touch yourself under him. He begins to jerk himself off inches away from your cunt. Your knuckles brush against each other and you're already climaxing again. He slaps faster, breathing heavily in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck—move your hand.” You do and he’s coming all over you. It shoots and covers the new growth of hair, it's warm against the bare part of you. Dripping and he instinctively slides his twitching, softening cock between your folds. The two of you gasp when just the tip of his cock prods your hole. Gasping at the way you pulse for him for that one second like muscle memory. “Sorry.” He mumbles, taking a hold of his still twitching and leaking length. He panics and tucks himself back into his boxers before he relaxes himself on you.

He’s catching his breath, you think he’s crying against your shoulder.

“It’s okay.”

You hold the back of his head, hoping to soothe him.

He had done this for you countless times. You find no issue doing it for him.

#fic!rlw #javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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hwajin · 2 years ago

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#!! - 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ; ᴍᴜs ᴇ

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, hints of angst

— 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x fem!reader, chan x fem!reader

— 𝐰𝐜: 2.6k

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it couldn't be possible to fall in love without exchanging a single word with a person. it couldn't be possible, yet hyunjin felt like he fell 10 feet and deeper, the moment he saw her.

— 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 / 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: hyunjin's a SIMP, lots of daydreaming and romantizising, another build up chapter before the fun begins <33

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She was like a cold wave, washing over him suddenly and robbing his lungs off oxygen, just as he was about to surface for some air to take a moment to breathe. He had walked past her at the very entrance of the store, her on the phone, him lost in his thoughts — he wouldn't have noticed her in the first place if there wasn't this seeming force, an urge almost that crossed his body right then and there. If because of her or something else was unclear, but she was the one he had locked eyes with, she was the one turning around the moment he did. And now she infiltrated his mind.

Hyunjin has never seen her around before – he surely would have remembered if he did – and it made him wonder if she was new in the area, if she had moved in just recently, perhaps. His go to store for spontaneous late nights with friends – which could never miss alcohol nor something to munch on while talking or watching a movie – wasn’t necessarily a known one for newcomers around, a secret place almost, only known by locals and residents, people whose history and life was bound tightly within the city. It would have been strange meeting a new face for the first time here, in particular – yet it had something interesting, made her more interesting. Because Hyunjin liked the idea, that someone who has just moved in, the city or the area only, enjoyed exploring the depths of where they would spend a part of their life in. He liked the idea that a person took it upon themselves and didn’t scare away from looking through foreign neighbourhoods, into less popular suburbs that were yet worth visiting and pretty enough seeing, far from the ever same sightseeing guides you could find on every corner of every city. To Hyunjin, cities held an importance he couldn’t quite explain, something he had always found fascinating. Cities held secrets and emotions and knowledge like nothing and no one else did, and moving into a new one always meant getting in touch with said wisdom, held the responsible to get familiar with its secrets and quirks, and its beauty, first and foremost; it wasn’t simply a place you lived in, it was a part of your life that you would call home for as long as you’d stay, a home that would take you into its embrace, temporary or not. It would paint you as much as you’d paint it, adding onto the canvas of multiple people prior to you, a wild collage of millions of people who call the same place home, if only in memories. Maybe it was because he himself never moved away, has spent his life from childhood all the way to his current life as a young adult in the same old place – maybe that’s why it fascinated him so much, moved him to see never ending change in the city he adored so much, was bound to and sentimental, almost, about any other city he visited. Because his own town shaped him so much, and because maybe he took part in shaping it as well.

And yet, if she wasn’t a newcomer in the area – why has Hyunjin never seen her? He was a regular in the shop, though it was small it had everything he needed and was just behind the corner to his small apartment. He was familiar with the owner, stayed to chat occasionally and especially during and throughout all of summer he found himself in the store a couple times a week at least, thirsting for water and never learning to bring his own bottle from home. He surely should have seen her if she too visited the shop every once in a while – and yet he hasn’t, yet she fully and unsolicitedly astounded his life in the shortest amount of time, with a simple look. For a split second Hyunjin figured that maybe they’ve both been in the store at the same time previously, yet simply didn’t cross paths inside and looked through different aisles, or didn’t much pay attention to surroundings and other customers – but that thought dissolved as quickly as it came; it hasn’t just been her eyes that so intensely affected him, not only the look she gave him that has made him want to go up to her and talk, about anything and everything, but talk, simply. It has been the feeling that occupied his insides, mainly, that fully occupied him from within and drowned him of any clear thought and sensation other than her when he walked past, when their bodies were closest, right at the entrance where she was standing. Right then, there was that feeling of bittersweet nostalgia, as though he has seen, felt maybe, something familiar in her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, like a song that you hear yet can’t remember where you know it from, for the life of you. There was simply no possibility of her and Hyunjin being in the same room prior to this day – he knew he would have felt it, must have. Though admittedly, it sounded stupid, even in his head. The hopeless romantic in him wanted to believe that that was the case, badly so, that she was something close to his soulmate, someone he was destined to be with – because of a stupid feeling which could have been any and everything, which could have been a deja-vu, maybe he has simply seen her in the corner of his eye before, or went to the same school and his long term memory for whatever reason saved her in from years ago. The rational part of him knew that it was bullshit. And yet his incredibly corny and impossibly pathetic side couldn’t just quit hoping, expecting a next time. Already imagining how he’d go up and talk to her when she appeared in the shop again, just a simple ‘hi’ to start the conversation. Because maybe his gut feeling held some truth after all, because maybe it wasn’t always wrong to go after feelings one couldn’t quite explain. Maybe the ever searching and longing part of his persona would find what he needed with her, the love he always imagined and dreamt of.

The song that was blasting in his headphones and set his foot changed and he seemed to snap out with the help of it, chuckling at himself as he did. God he sounded dumb and so naïve, daydreaming about a stranger he hasn’t exchanged a single word with. After all she might have a boyfriend already, or maybe she wasn’t his type at all – which Hyunjin couldn’t quite imagine, yet it wasn’t impossible. Or perhaps, the most plausible option of them all; she simply wouldn’t be interested in him after he’d asked for her number. Hyunjin wouldn’t necessarily call himself a player, his luck with girls decent in his opinion, yet at a minimum. Which never much bothered himself, but in relation to her it suddenly made him feel insecure and unsure, made him question his skills in dating at all. He knew he had never been known as a big flirter, preferred to be his natural self when getting to know a person he showed interest in. It has worked with the people he’s dated so far, but Hyunjin knew not everyone liked the toned-down type of flirting, if one could call it flirting at all. He knew for some people it seemed like disinterest, to simply talk and laugh together, to ask questions and receive answers that revealed more and more of one’s character. For some it simply looked like polite conversation, yet for Hyunjin it was the key to get to know a person, to get a picture of their heart and how they ticked – but then again, not everyone was keen on making deep connections and dates altogether. Some people only flirted to flirt, or to go home with someone for one night only simply to forget all about them the next day. And though Hyunjin didn’t dare to judge those decisions – he had too many friends who didn’t want to dip their toes into relationships and partners, who simply enjoyed the fun of messing around with other people who were just as enthusiastic about only a fling for a night – he didn’t make himself out for that lifestyle either. There was as though a barrier in him that didn’t allow Hyunjin to give himself to another person as intimately and vulnerably as he’d like maybe, as his other friends simply could. He wasn’t shy, necessarily, yet he sheerly couldn’t open up to a mere stranger to the point of leaving with them for a steam filled night, even with enough alcohol in his system. He sometimes wished he could, though, could be a bit more outgoing, a bit less in his head, a bit less closed up in general, when it came to people and dating. Maybe that would give him more chances to find his ever so wanted soulmate. Yet maybe, he considered, it would give him even more heartbreak, even more failed relationships and disappointments, less and less hope to find what he was looking for. To bond with another on a deeper level, that held more than sex and one night stands. But then again – maybe she wasn't on his side with that one whatsoever. Maybe relationships tired her, maybe she’d never want anything serious from him at all. The question that Hyunjin asked himself, though – would he accept that? Would he, upon getting to know her better and ending up liking her, do that to himself? Would he like her enough to destroy himself for her, to accept that she and him would never be and that messing around from time to time, to awake in each other’s beds to disappear moments later was the furthest he would ever reach with her?

The song in his headphones changed yet again, tearing him out of his thoughts. He felt like a creep, realising he’s ended up imagining a life with a girl he yet had to exchange even one word with, once again for that matter, and he shook his head to rid himself off the thoughts of her. If he met her in the shop a second time – or anywhere, that is – he’d simply try and make a hopefully decent move, ask for her number and if she’d be down to grab a drink together; and if he didn’t, if she happened to never appear before Hyunjin’s eyes again, if she vanished as abruptly as she emerged in the little shop, as though not real at all, as though Hyunjin was daydreaming altogether and simply wished for a love story within her, a love story that he started to give up on more and more the older he got, yet found a comfort in which he never seemed to be able to let go fully –.

He needed to stop, once and for all. Admittedly, it was almost amusing, how his mind could spiral into new fantasies over and over and how his brain never grew tired of fabricating the cheesiest novels in seconds; with a stranger fully unknown to him. Maybe he should quit reading romance, before he grew obsessed, inevitably. If Hyunjin didn’t get to see the girl in the store a second time, he’d simply continue on with his life like prior. He told himself that there was no further connection, no further reason he should be thinking about her. He found her interesting, attractive, and if she hadn't looked so busy, concerned almost on the phone, making him wonder who she could have possibly talked to, he maybe, just maybe, would have said hello.

Yet, that hasn’t happened, and so he made his way towards the cash register, telling himself to forget all about the stranger and to snap back to reality as best as he managed. It’s not like he wasn’t daydreaming normally, there were days where Hyunjin didn’t speak a word and spent hours alone with his thoughts and a book, or a pencil and paper and some music in his ears. He loved fleeing into worlds, created by him or other people, enjoyed finding himself in another world than the one known to him, the one he lived in. Though, it wasn’t much fleeing as it was adding beauty to the reality known to him. By art and music and literature, simply by any means he was capable of. He’s always had an eye on prettiness, in the smallest moments that other people never had enough attention, patience maybe, to take out and appreciate. The way the winter sun, cold yet bright enough to lighten up the store from within, the rays illuminating the dark wooden floors just enough to make the ground shimmer and make the room larger, ridding it off its greyness that winter imminently brought with it. The clouds weren’t as dark today either, Hyunjin noticed. He loved winter, enjoyed the cold, the holiday season, everything that came with it, yet he had to admit that the ever-sulking sky took a toll on him. It was nice to see some change, to feel a bit of warmth on his face at least. It was small stuff like this that got him going, nearly irrelevant details that he adored about each and every day anew.

Though his mom has always lovingly scolded him for it, told him more often than not to snap back into reality, it seemingly hasn’t helped. He put his groceries onto the counter, absentmindedly so, trying to stop himself from slipping back into thinking about her for the up tenth time, unapologetically. Forced himself to think about work, which was pleasant for the time being. He tried recalling his shifts, planning out his schedule for the week in his head. Just anything, everything to not think of a stranger, of her. The cashier – a new one, Hyunjin noticed, a young face he’s never seen around before, a student maybe who looked so overwhelmed and nervous that Hyunjin almost chuckled aloud, remembering his own school years – handed him his change, his lips moving to likely wish a good day; Hyunjin wasn’t quite sure, he hasn’t taken off his headphones and only recalled muffled words. He simply nodded and smiled, but the student was already busy with the next customer anyways, awkwardly and slightly helpless. Hyunjin held back another chuckle, oddly seeing himself in the young part timer, always a bit nervous and helpless around people, especially back when he was a teen. Hyunjin’s thoughts didn’t linger much longer on the subject though, his working shift already back behind his inner eye, trying to remember when Felix had asked him to hang out, hoping it wouldn’t cross over with his job. He too was a part timer, a small library profession he nothing but adored yet, at times, despised to be stealing so much of his time. It was necessary, of course, bills needed to be paid and food needed to be bought – and his actual plan, his estimated career as an independent artist, didn't provide him with that just yet. Though, that was a topic he was hard to talk on lately, inspiration as though left him without a warning and ideas suddenly not flooding his brain like they usually do, in dreams or the surroundings, people and buzzing life all around him. He was empty, his canvases were, and it frustrated him to no end. It made him doubt himself, worries creeping up on him, the risk he took with the career of choice and the knowing rate of failures in it too overwhelming in times like these.

And then, there was her again. Flooded his mind, the same picture of her simply because he has seen her only once, replaying within him over and over. Would he ever end up inspired by her? Was the feeling he had felt when he passed her, when Hyunjin had stood closest to her, and when their eyes had met for a moment that felt all too long – was that strange of a feeling enough to make him take out his brushes and simply start, without a thought in his head, simply her and this sensation leading his fingertips? Would she ever be capable, willing to be his muse?

@doll4hyun @iwannabangchan @hwangful @whatudowhennooneseesyou @inkybird @asters-abditory @seungminluv3 @skzddicted @marslovescats @berryblog @beautifullywrecked-aeris @moonlightcandy00 @hyynee @nightrayseishina @199719932000 @shrub31201 @yoamimi @wednesdayswife @hyuneisbae @lovhyunj @ladytrbl @danyxthirstae01 @someoneinlovve @lili-kims-blog @rachagen @koorminii @good-soup3023 @shiru-chan @karaquestionable @blahbluhblahbluh @laryisthinking @knisterlicht @studyingthemind @ppiri-bahng @septicrebel @gimmemoredoritos @midsoulz @foivetimesacharm @daceyena @lovingeaglepeanut @yoonguurt

#hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #🪔— twin flame

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veenxys · 3 years ago

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— secret admirer.

pairing: shigaraki x reader

genre: fluff

wc: 4,1k

warnings: neighbors to friends to lovers, cheesy, valentines day themes! <3

it was at the beginning of summer the first time shigaraki saw you in the lobby of the building. you were standing in the driveway with a cardboard box hitched to your hip while you were talking to the mailman who served the building.

it was hot.

the kind of heat that made him feel like he was drowning, like the heat was under his skin and into his bones, like it was being sucked hard and heavy into his lungs in a grip he would never let go. instinctively he rolled up the sleeves of his black sweatshirt to his elbows.

and yet none of that would compare to the way you make him feel.

he didn’t know it at the time, but everything about you would stay inside him like the hot summer sun, deep inside his bones, pressed to the inside of his skin.

you would make him feel, when he often felt nothing, running on autopilot most days.

you’d make him feel like... like the cling film of shame didn't always have to stick to him. as if the ocean of you could drown him under his skin, and he would be happy. you had reminded him of the green of blossoming trees, like spring and summer, warmth and heart.

after the first time he saw you, he started doing things he didn't do before, like; going to check the mail just to see you, if only for a few seconds. when he arrive, he gets a little frustrated for not seeing you, but soon his heart starts racing in his chest when you arrive smiling, saying ‘hold on, i think i have a bottle of water. it’s so hot out there today.’

such a small kindness, and yet it was something that stopped him; like he’s out of the world and only you are able to connect him to real life, like you made him want to fall into your orbit.

the postman wiped the sweat from his forehead, smiled, adjusted his bag on his shoulder. you handed him the bottle of water, he kindly thanked you, told you how he hated amazon, that he would take care of the letter you expected from your mother.

“i don’t know many people who write anymore. it’s all junk mail and bills and packages.” he says.

“oh, no, i love getting mail.”!you say sincerely. there’s something so pure and unique about letters handwritten by the people you love, it’s as if each letter and sentence has a little bit of their heart, which makes everything even more special.

and so, he starts checking his damn mail every day.

quickly, he discovers your schedule. when you’re more likely to be in your mailbox or talking to one of your neighbors that you happen to run into. without fail, he manages to catch you. he finds that you demand letters from friends and relatives, and he also finds that you write and send letters almost daily.

you are friendly with the postman, sometimes leaving snacks in the lobby. you give him a card with a tip every holiday. you have such a good heart, such a beautiful and pure soul. he never gets tired of admiring you a little more every time. all your little mannerisms and quirks leave him mesmerized; completely enchanted with a person he swears is an angel.

you’re the only person, the only modern person, he knows in town who checks the mail every day without fail. it’s totally and completely bizarre, but now shigaraki loves mail too; because he can see you, and maybe because he thought people didn’t do the letter thing anymore.

after a long time of trying and failing, with a lot of fear and courage in his heart, he starts talking to you for a few minutes every day with a pile of useless paper in his hands. your smile is like sunlight on a cold day. your laughter as a balm against his physical and spiritual scars. you always smell like vanilla and coffee, and he finds out that you work at a coffee shop to supplement your income with your office work.

he cherishes and sweetly memorizes all the brief conversations and encounters, and he regrets the days when he’s absent on mission and can't see you.

one day, he has the courage to invite you to a old coffee shop next to your apartment, he has watched the place for a long time and knows the peak times and the times when there is no one. he pays for everything for you and tries to feel like he’s not the luckiest man in the universe to sit across from you and listen to you complain about customers, to see you smile and laugh and have a terrible cup of coffee.

true friendship blossoms between you two that day. as if the seed of a beautiful and delightful relationship needed only the tiniest drop of water to sprout.

shigaraki starts finding letters from you after that, on paper that smells like vanilla. just silly anecdotes that made him smile, lying among the useless advertisements and magazines. he had no words or thoughts that could express his feelings; he feels so happy and lucky, so in love and confused, but the only thing he knows is that he will keep your letters for the rest of his life, as his greatest treasure.

you start organizing movie nights at your house, where you burn incense and talk to your plants as if they were beloved children. in the darkness of your little studio, crammed close to you on your beat-up, faded couch you bought at a sale; he gets even more mesmerized with you.

he tells himself he’s not falling in love with you, he definitely isn’t... right? you’re friends and nothing more, he’s just delighted with how bright and pure you are after being surrounded by dark people all his life. he needs a person like you in his life, he tells himself that sometimes, he needs a light.

so what if he dreams about you almost every night? so what if he values the scent you leave on his clothes after you suddenly hug him as he’s leaving your apartment after a movie night? so what if sitting next to you on that old-fashioned couch, his thigh pressed to yours, shoulder to shoulder, is one of the greatest joys of his life? so what if his heart almost popped out of his chest the day you laid your head on his arm while watching your favorite movie?

so what the fuck?

he is happy to have you. like a friend.

does he sometimes sleep with the shirt he wore at your house over his pillow? yes. maybe... but that’s only because the lingering scent of your lavender incense helps him to sleep.

it has nothing to do with your scent. like vanilla and coffee, lavender and bergamot.

it has absolutely nothing to do with being around you.

it has nothing to do with waiting for him to wake up smelling like you just a little, just to keep you close.

he convinces himself that it’s normal to perfectly time your trip to the mailbox every day, just to talk to you, just to make sure you’re okay. until, a few weeks before valentine’s day, in the deep chill of an icy blast that descended on the city in late january, you told him about one of your co-workers who wants to hook you up with a friend of hers.

“she keeps trying to set me up with one of our other coworkers,” you wrinkled your nose. “i’m not really interested, but i’m thinking maybe i’m just going to shut her up about it."

what if you went on that date and felt something? what if he loses you?

but what is there to lose, really?

you were not his.

you do not belong to him, although he feels that he are entirely yours.

pressed close to you in the darkness of your apartment, the tv screen flashing brightly across your features, he wondered why he thought you would want him this way, see him this way.

you lit the lavender incense again, which he was starting to think might be for his benefit; you know he has trouble sleeping.

“maybe i can get a valentine out of this,” you said sleepily. “i’ve never had one before.”

and that convinced him to try. he can be your valentine.

you made him believe that he could be, that maybe he was worthy of it.

you’re standing in front of your open mailbox, wearing a red knitted scarf, when shigaraki ducks in from the winter storm swirling outside. the winter has been particularly brutal, one snowstorm after another making his anxiety flare like an emergency signal.

his heart almost stutters to a stop as he pauses in the entryway, glued to the spot. he hadn’t expected you to still be in the foyer, and immediately he recalculates his carefully thought through plan.

while he hadn’t expected you to be in the lobby, shigaraki certainly hadn’t expected to find you wearing the scarf he had left anonymously in front of your door two days ago.

he’s glad you like it enough to wear it.

just like he was glad that you liked the flowers he left a few days before that enough to post them on instagram, enough to talk to them like the rest of your plants, thanking them for their contribution to the little garden of your window before they wilted and withered away.

it does make him worry just a tad that you’ve so easily accepted gifts from a stranger, anonymously dropped in front of your door or through your mail slot..

now, you slowly shuffle through the letters in your hands, frowning gently at the junk mail. he swallows, watching you flick past a bill, smile at a letter from your grandmother, before you get to the last envelope in the pile. you frown and flip it over when someone ducks past him into the building, reminding him that he’s standing in the open doorway like an idiot, the bag of pastries from your favorite bakery in his hand probably freezing.

shigaraki tries not to think about the way the corner of your mouth ticks up into a smile, your eyes widening just a bit, when you see the script on the back of the baby pink envelope. he curses under his breath and heads in your direction. you look up at his approach, stuffing the pink letter between two pieces of junk mail. “oh, hey, tomura,” you say, smiling so big it looks like it hurts. “happy valentine’s day!”

shigaraki’s heart jumps into his throat and he almost chokes on it. “happy valentine’s day, doll”

you try and can't suppress another smile, “staying in this valentines day?” you nod to the bag in his hand.

“i think you could say that.”

the building door opens again and you wince as a gust of wind snakes through the lobby. “nothing on your super villain schedule then?”

“well, the night is young,” he says dryly. “the world is kind of... less shit lately” at least to him.

you laugh and his heart flutters a little. he feels like a child around you, as if the world is light and beautiful, as if everything is right.

“what are you doing tonight?” he asks as you close your mailbox.

you lift your pile of mail and shake it at him, “getting my mail.” the corner of your mouth twitches and shigaraki tries not to let his eyes linger on your lips, or, more dangerously, on the pink letter peeking out of the stack.

the letter he had slipped into your mail slot yesterday.

“other than getting your mail,” he says as you start towards the stairs and begin to climb. he lags, deliberately walking slowly to prolong your time together, trying to work up the nerve to ask you over to his place. “no valentine’s date for you either? manage to avoid the date with that coworker?”

“ugh. yes. but now i’m totally avoiding this horrible speed dating thing my friend wants me to go to. she’s convinced it’ll be fun. it’s themed for valentine’s day.” you wrinkle your nose at him. “i think it sounds like the ninth circle of hell. so, i’m staying in with my book. i mean, i deserve it right? i’ve already put in so much effort into avoiding that date with my coworker.”

oh lord, he is grateful that you think the speed dating thing is hell.

his crush on you has rapidly turned into an obsession. and he knows himself well enough to know that he would absolutely sabotage that speed dating thing. shigaraki isn’t about to let anything ruin his plan; he hasn’t spent the last two weeks meticulously planning a perfect plan for something like speed dating to ruin it.

besides the flowers and the scarf, he sent you a reservation for your favorite restaurant, your favorite brand of chocolate, a box of little candy hearts that he was present when you found them in your mailbox and laughed deliciously, delighted. he gave you a sweater and a new perfume, a book, incense. he’s given you everything he can think of at the moment and he’s kind of proud of it.

maybe he’s not good with words, but he knows you well enough to know what m you’re going to love, even if it’s not him.

nerves are scratching the inside of his skin by the time you pull up outside his door, he’s trying his best not to scratch his neck - after you asked so gently because you didn’t want to see him get hurt - as he tries to work up the courage to ask you to come.

conveniently, he stopped at your favorite bakery. conveniently, he ordered all your favorite treats.

“-so glad someone sent me this scarf,i mean, the radiator has been broken for a week and its fucking cold. landlord keeps promising to send someone but-,”

“i’ll take a look at it for you, honey.”

you look at him, a strange emotion swimming in your eyes before you walk away, and you smile. “what would i do without you? thank you, tomu.” you say, as if it means nothing. like the nerve inside him doesn’t light up at the thought that you need him for something as mundane as maintenance.

you pause and continue, uneasily a little, “i would love to know who keeps sending me stuff.” your tone is carefully light, but a little sadness is hiding in the back of your throat. “i would like to thank them personally.” you don’t meet his eyes when you say that.

he hums, watching you fumble with your key, “what if you have a stalker or something, y/n? wish you’d be a little more careful.”

“worried about me, tomura?” you tease. he just stares at you. of course he is. he’s always worried about you. you roll your eyes, “i get good vibes and intentions from these gifts. i think i would know if they carried bad energy.”

“you’re kidding right? this is how you end up on dateline-,”

“oh hush, let me enjoy my silly little gifts. i’ve never had a secret admirer. or even a valentine. and besides, you’re in the building. i’m sure you’d know if i were in any danger. you probably already investigated and know who they are.” you send him a smile that makes his heart feel like cracked eggshell “the worst thing about this apartment is that it’s three floors up with no elevator,” you huff, finally jamming your key into the lock. “i guess i’ll-,”

panic surges up his throat. it’s now or never.

“you’ve never had a valentine?” he asks, stalling for time, though you had told him the night he decided to be your valentine this year.

“some of us can’t pull ladies like you, tomura,” you tease, bumping your shoulder against his. “i mean, i’ve had partners on valentine’s day in the past just not, like, a valentine, you know? like someone who sends you sappy little notes and just loves love.”

god, you were about to be disappointed when you found out it was him.

he’s your fucking valentine. your secret admirer.

while he’d planned to ask you over to dinner, shigaraki would also like to delay you looking at that fucking envelope he stuffed in your mailbox like it was nothing.

it’s not time for you to read it yet.

the letter is a security blanket for when everything inevitably goes to hell.

it’s such a good thing he’d caught you in the foyer. if you’d already gotten your mail, likely you would have ripped open the letter and read it right away.

“you could come over,” he says. “i got enough here to feed an army,” he lifts the bag. “we can watch that new show you were telling me about yesterday.”

he doesn’t expect you to hesitate. normally, you readily agree to spend a night together. but you finally open the door.

you look at the pile of mail in your hands. “uhm,” you change from foot to foot. “you know, i-,”

you stop, seeming to think about how to continue, fiddling with the pink paper.

and strangely, shigaraki is jealous.

of a letter.

that he sent.

he is jealous of himself.

you want to read your valentine’s anonymous letter instead of spending time with him.

maybe his heart sinks into his belly, maybe his soul turns to ashes inbuis mouth. and maybe is better give up now.

“oh, right,” he says, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice but failing.

you notice the look on his face and drop the mail on the counter by the door. “uhm.. i mean.. yes of course, i would love.” from the door, he can see your whole apartment. the pink and white bedspread, your plants, the pictures of family and friends on the wall - and even a polaroid photo of the two of you that you’ve strangely convinced him to take - the fairy lights and that little sofa in front of the tv that has come to feel at home, like love.

“you don’t need to-,” he begins.

you close the door and lock it again, smiling at him.

you sit on the floor in front of his coffee table, legs crossed, fingers sticky with powdered sugar and frosting that you wipe gently on a napkin. you’ve been talking to him for the last few minutes, something he thinks is about a mess at work, but he can’t focus on it right now.

he didn’t touch any treats or drinks, and you definitely noticed that.

the room is filled with a tension that is entirely his fault. he can see you trying to analyze why things seem so strange and tense. you reach out and touch the back of his hand. “are you alright?”

“yes,” he says, rubbing the other hand over his face as if he were tired. shigaraki doesn’t want to scare you, he knows how he looks, empty and distant, when he’s too deep inside himself.

it’s now or never, something screams at him.

“actually, i have something for you.”

“oh”, you smile. “as a gift?”

“yeah.. something like this”, he stands up, and your hand drops from his. he moves to the kitchen where he stashed his last present.

if things go wrong in the next few minutes, i hope you’ll read the card he left in the mailbox that’s waiting for you at the kitchen counter, he thinks to himself as he looks at you again. your eyes are fixed on him, moving quickly to the pink box wrapped in his hands.

he sits across from you on the floor and presses the box in his hands onto the coffee table. you look at him for a long moment, the look on your face unreadable for him.

“tomura,” you say gently, decidedly not unwrapping. “i don’t want to sound... i don’t want to make things strange between us, but –,”

oh. shit..

“but like, we’ve been friends for a while and i... i dunno, i was just telling myself i should tell you.,”

... probably that you had a partner. that he got too comfortable with you and needed to back off.

“well, that i’ve kind of fallen in love with you in the last couple of months and...”

wait-

“and i don’t want to sound, like, smug, but… are you the one leaving all the presents?”

his brain goes static, white with emptiness. how the hell could you know?

“i-,”

“because i think maybe you would have- i mean is it really you..? i really hope it was you.”

when he doesn’t say anything, you start fidgeting, crinkling the edge of the pink paper in your hands, the tip of your thumb running nervously under the tape.

“it’s not, is it? shit i made everything really weird between us.. i thought it was you because you kind of look like you would have hunted someone down by randomly sending me stuff.” you don’t look at him while saying that. “oh god does that mean i have a stalker?”

he swallows and finds his voice, lodged firmly in the back of his throat. “you thought i would-,”

“yes, i mean,” you tear the ribbon a little and carefully set the gift aside. “it’s just that you’re kind of protective. you seem to care a lot about me and i found it strange that this random stranger would give me things and that didn’t bother you, but...”

“honey, it’s me,” he says softly. “it’s me. i’ve done all this.”

you don’t seem to hear him, your eyes still fixed on the pies and pastries in front of you. “..because you know how much i love getting letters and you know all my favorite things.” you shrug your shoulders. “sorry, i shouldn’t—”

shigaraki says your name, with enough force for your head to rise and look at him “it is me”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow.

“i –fuck it, i fucking like you. very much. and i didn’t want you to go on that fucking date with your coworker and you’ve never had a valentine’s day and.. i don’t know.. i really like you. i thought maybe—”

“did i say, didn’t i? i fell in love with you. do you think i let other people into my apartment so much? wait in my fucking mailbox waiting for you to show up?”

a chuckle comes out of him, “i thought i was really good at timing.”

you roll your eyes and get up. he follows your movement; you crouch beside him, and he holds his breath for a few seconds, intoxicated by your presence. he gently pulls you onto his lap, he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. he bows a few times but the last of the courage he had was gone when he confessed to you. so you had to take the first step. the kiss was a little awkward, but the two of you melted into each other as you delved deeper into the love you both hid.

you tasted so, so good. like valentines day chocolate and something so purely yours. he already knew he would be addicted to it. your fingers curl in his hair; curl behind his ears as you hold his face between your palms. tomura anchors his hands on your hips, afraid to do anything but kiss you. just in case it’s a dream, just in case you change your mind.

he dreamed of kissing you before, he dreamed of holding you, touching the curve of your lovely and dreamily body, but none of his sleepless nights as he pictured himself with you compares to having you in his lap, your soft lips against his, a new feeling you made him feel when you first kissed him.

you pull back and press your forehead to his, “thank you for all my gifts, tomura.”

he smiles, “don’t read that pink letter, love.”

“why?”

“it’s…honestly i thought… doesn’t matter. just don’t read it. i’ll write you a thousand more letters.”

“promise they’ll all be really sappy.”

he chuckles and hooks an arm around your waist, tugging you close before twisting to press you back into the rug. tomura hovers over you “i promise,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, the curve of your cheek, your top lip.

“and that you’ll hand deliver them to my mailbox.”

“promise,” he kisses your lips.

you arch up, kissing him back hard, digging your foot into the back of his knee so he collapses against you fully.

“will you be my valentine?” it’s a breathless question.

“thought i already was.”

#bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha x y/n #mha fluff #shigaraki fanfiction #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura imagine #tomura fluff #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki fic #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #aelin’s valentine’s day collab!

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maelialuv · 2 years ago

Text

The One - Steve Harrington

had an idea to do a few fics based off of one of my favourite albums , 'Folklore' by Taylor Swift. Let me know if you like the idea!

Summary: You run into an old flame, which brings up memories of your whirlwind romance, and the day it ended.

Warnings: set three years after season four! bitter sweet fluff, angst.

Word count: 2.3K

At first, you only think it's him.

You hadn't seen Steve Harrington in nearly three years, since you were able to quit your job and finally go to college in the fall of '86. You were back home in Hawkins, a pull in your chest calling you back to the town - along with a delightfully quaint starter home out in the city. Close enough to home to be near family, far enough to live freely and start your adult life properly. Staying with your family again meant - just as it was when you were a clueless kid - your mom was sending you out on your bike to fetch groceries last minute for dinner.

So there you were, frozen in the fruit and vegetable section of a late night super market as you stared at the back of a man's head. From behind, you were unsure. Nowadays, big hair was more common. Steve's hair was very specific, and you were scrutinising every hair on the back of this unsuspecting stranger's head. Then he turned, grabbing a head of broccoli from a high shelf.

It was, in the flesh, Steve Harrington. The same as he ever was.

You had to fight an odd, yet familiar, urge to call out his name. It would be strange, given the lack of communication you'd held with him throughout your time away from Hawkins. You turned away , returning to the search for the bell peppers your mom asked for. Your hands shook as you grabbed them, jittering with the urge to talk to him. You shook yourself out of it, shoving the veg into your basket and turning to walk to the check out.

It was at that moment that Steve turned as well.

Your eyes met across the rows of apples and peaches. His own widened at the sight of you - the same, but different. You were more graceful than the baby faced girl he'd watched get on the coach at the station - unbeknownst to you, getting on unaware of an audience. But to Steve, you would always be the same. You had the same wide eyes, same scrunch of the nose when you were surprised. You just about dropped your food when you got a good look at him.

If was as if you'd never left, and that made your chest tight. He was exactly the same as the day you'd said goodbye. Same goofy, awkward smile. Same brown eyes that made your knees feel wobbly. Same Steve that you had loved, missed.

It was as though neither one of you was willing to speak first, to break the new layer of ice. It had been so long, maybe too long.

"Did your folks send you out for those?" he gestured to the peppers in your basket. Casual. Tone neutral. Your head was spinning.

"Y-yeah, uh," you pointed to the other things in your basket, "mom's making that stir fry I like. As a welcome home."

It was awkward. Too quiet. It felt wrong, Steve had been the person you could talk to. He didn't seem to feel the tension, taking a few steps closer to you. He quirked a brow when you didn't do the same. "What, am I gonna bite you? Get over here, weirdo."

He wrapped his arms around you - one over your shoulder, one round your waist- and you felt 19 again. Felt like you'd snuck out late to see Steve on your bike, your feet moving as fast as they could on the pedals as you sped to his house where he would wait on his porch for you, arms outstretched and welcoming. It put a guilty pang in your stomach, and you hugged him back. He even smelt the same, old spice and a pine needle freshness. It made your eyes sting.

You had been back in Hawkins for two days already, but there in Steve's arms you felt like you were finally back home. You didn't want to pull away when he did.

"How are you?" you asked, the small whisper of a grin sneaking on to your lips. You couldn't get over how gorgeous he still was.

"Great! Good, really good." He raised his left hand, wiggling his ring finger , on which was a thick gold band. "Tricked some poor girl into marrying me about a year ago."

It was a record scratch, cut the lights moment.

Steve was married.

You weren't fully surprised. He was always a romantic, desired the house and the picket fence and the family. While you were at college, Steve had met his girl. You felt strangely out of your body. In some odd, selfish way, you had always believed Steve would wait for you. Held on to the hope that one day he would show up at your door with flowers and a ring and ask you to be his when you were all grown up and mature. Reality smacked you right in the face as he pulled out his wallet and showed you the most beautiful bride you'd ever seen in your life.

"Oh my god, she's gorgeous." you couldn't help but say, bashful over your deluded fantasy. "Congratulations," you choked out.

You felt the familiar tingle of tears in your eyes.

"I uh, better get back, can't deprive Mom of her ingredients."

He could tell you were about to burst. Steve knew you like the back of his hand, even after all this time. You still had the same signs. Your nose was scrunching in the way he knew meant you were holding back tears. "Are you okay? You know, about it?"

"Oh my God, are you kidding?" you scoffed, "I am so happy for you and...?" you trailed off.

"Jenna,"

"I am so happy for you and Jenna, Steve. Truly." A tear slipped down your cheek as you spoke. You swiped it away as quick as you could, but Steve saw it.

Inside you knew you had waited for Steve. And the ring on his finger, the gorgeous wife in his wallet and waiting for him at home took the comforting rug out from under your feet.

Back before you left - before you even thought about leaving- you believed you could marry Steve. You believed one day after the two of you got better jobs than at Family Video or Scoops Ahoy that you would get serious, move in together, and settle down with one another. You had never thought that about any guy. Not before Steve, and not since. You thought Steve was it.

Then you left.

While it was the greatest years of your life so far, and you wouldn't take it back, you sometimes regretted leaving Hawkins. You regretted the way you left things with Steve, and regretted the way you hadn't stayed in contact. Maybe if you had....

"Hey," Steve said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We can talk, if you want." He reached into his basket, pulling out a six pack. "We can drink now, don't have to hide in an alley to do it."

So you found yourself on the hood of Steve's car, beer in hand, next to the guy you thought you'd marry one day. When you asked about the wedding, Steve apologised for not inviting you. "God, don't be sorry. I wouldn't have invited me." You took an indulgent sip. "I'm sorry I didn't stay in contact."

"That's okay," he said. While his tone was slightly sad, it was genuine. "You needed a fresh start. New place, new faces, no ex-boyfriend calling to tell you he got fired again." Steve turned to face you, eyes soft and bittersweet. "You don't have to be sorry for going to live your life. I wasn't going to hold you back anymore."

That had been one of the reasons you'd broken up that summer.

You had been saving from your job at Family Video for a car, then it was an apartment. Then that turned into you saving for college without telling your parents, friends, or even Steve. You kept it from him because , in some odd reverse way, you knew he would encourage you. And that would make you want to stay.

You had broken up on a Friday evening.

You biked to Steve's as fast as you could. You needed to tell him, and you needed to do it now. When the fence of the Harrington home came in to view, you flung your bike down on the lawn and ran to the porch. You repeatedly banged your fists on the door , knowing it was just Steve home. He came to the door immediately, and you regretted not rehearsing what you were going to say before hand. When he saw your frantic state, Steve was wrack with worry.

"What's going on-"

"I have to tell you something."

Steve could tell that you were serious, and ushered you in to the house without further question. You dragged him out to the pool and sat him on one of the loungers, sitting opposite him. You fiddled with your fingers, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart.

"Babe, what's going on , you're scaring me."

You took the large envelope out of your jacket and handed it to him.

"What is this?" Steve said, brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

"It's an acceptance letter," you felt like you were going to puke. "An acceptance letter from Dartmouth."

Steve's brows raised in shock. "Dartmouth University?"

"Yeah," you nervously bit at the skin of your thumb. You'd kept your application process, the rejections, from Steve for almost two months. When your Dartmouth letter arrived that afternoon, you couldn't hold it back anymore. "I've been applying to colleges."

Steve's face changed from shocked to elated. He stood, raising you with him as he picked you up and spun you around. "That's amazing! Oh my God, congratulations!"

His joy made you feel enormously guilty. Steve frowned at your dismay. "Why am I the only one celebrating here?"

You didn't answer him.

"Babe?"

"They need me there in two weeks."

"Oh."

You sat back down, head in your hands as you fought with yourself. Steve's face crumpled; first it was shock, then confusion, then anger, then a look of heartbreak. It made your own heart sink to the pit of your stomach. After a long moment of silence - of Steve pacing with his hands on his head- you spoke.

"I'm not going."

"Like hell you are!"

Steve's sudden outburst scared you, jumping on the lounger slightly. He was angry, but not at you, and his face softened as he saw the look on yours. "Sorry," he said. He came to sit next to you. It was quiet again for a long moment. Steve pulled you to his chest. "You have to go," he said. It wasn't a question. He was telling you.

"I know," you said into his sweater, tears welling in your eyes as you stayed there. You both wanted to ask one question - the selfish question- but neither was willing to say it out loud. You wanted to kick yourself. You'd done this to him. You'd made him feel this way, the boy that never hurt you or did anything to make you feel anything less than a superhero. You cried into him.

You both knew what this would mean for the two of you. You both knew, but both of you couldn't face the reality. Couldn't acknowledge that the greatest love you'd known had an expiration date, a count down. When you heard Steve start to cry, you wanted to get on your knees and beg him not to let you go. But you knew he wouldn't do it. He would never, could never, hold you back. So he said what he knew.

"I love you."

You sat up, resting your forehead against his. "As I love you."

You spent the next thirteen days attached at the hip before you left. Your forbid Steve from seeing you onto the coach to New Hampshire. You were certain that if you saw his face, bleary eyed and loving, you would never leave.

Sitting next to him on the hood of his car, you felt the regret. Regret that you'd made him promise not to come - even though he had, watching you from the seclusion of his car where you wouldn't see him cry. Regret that you let him go. Regret that you never came back for him.

"Can I ask you something?" you said into the night. "Feel absolutely free not to answer."

"Shoot." he said, sipping his bear thoughtfully as he looked at you.

"If I hadn't gone," you sucked in a breath. "If I hadn't left when I did...."

You didn't have to say the words - 'would it have been me?'- for Steve to know what you meant. You had always been an open book to him.

Steve looked down at his feet resting on the bumper. He laughed a little to himself. "I used to ask myself the same thing," he took another sip from the bottle, letting his words hang in the air. "Maybe," he said. "I think so. I don't know."

A tear slipped down your cheek again as you stared ahead. You laughed as a thought entered your mind. "Invite me to the golden anniversary?"

Steve chuckled, raising his bottle to yours. "I'll put you on the top of the invite list."

The two of you finished your beers with quiet, thoughtful chatter. You got up, hugging each other tightly - both of you relishing the closure the moment had brought you. You bid your goodbyes, standing by your bike as Steve drove out of the parking lot. Home to his wife. And you rode home, groceries in your basket.

When you got home, you found a fresh diary in you moms office. On the final page you scribbled a note.

'July 2038 - Steve and Jenna's 50th Anniversary.'

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jaeminscoffee · 3 years ago

Text

Daddy Issues | S. Jn

Pairing | Seo Johnny x Fem!Reader

Genre | Smut, fluff

Wc;type | oneshot: 3.93k [not proof read]

Warning(s) | Pwp, dilf!johnny, y/n's a pillow princess, daddy kink, overstimulation, teasing, edging, dacryphilia, slight voyeurism, degradation kink, heavy use of the words 'doll, princess, slut, pretty, angel', typical lyra smut, i made haechan johnny's son (i was about to write changbin as johnny's son but decided against it) age gap, unprotected sex ( the Reader's on pills. Remember this is a fiction, don't play the wrong card irl) filth.

a/n- i found this request buried in my asks and was tempted to write it. Sure, the warning looks intimidating, but i know you wanna read it, y'all whores (ily) shoutout to @bakugou-is-my-bae @cvntzennie and @jenopollo for helping me decide what to post first! @suhpersonic

Minors try not to interact! <3

Age is just a number, so surely, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, right?

There's no reason for you to not fall for the friendly neighborhood bachelor, well not so bachelor bachelor, since he does go around asking people who knows of his marriage to pretend it never took place.

Johnny's hot, super hot. Has the build of a supermodel. Has the face that one can only imagine belongs to a greek god, as you'd jokingly tell him how he seemed to be god's favorite and how you loathe Aphrodite for showing favoritism (which would always end up with you getting a very sultry, teasing look from the lad)

Johnny has the type of personality that women can only wish the entirety of the male species would possess. He's an absolute sweetheart, life of the party, definitely the center of attention wherever he goes. And oh god, does he have an immaculate fashion sense.

But Johnny's also the father of Donghyuck. Your best friend.

More than being ashamed about the fact that you actually fell in love with a man who has a child of your age, it was the fact that you had to fall for Donghyuck's father of all people.

Donghyuck is a sweetheart, definitely got his personality from his father but he's also got that glare that could creep the Lord's of the darkness from his father. He's got so much from his father that the resemblance is uncanny.

You'd not want to get onto hyuck's bad side since you've gotten first hand experience at stopping him from almost committing homicide to someone who spoke shit about his friends, more specifically, you.

But Hyuck's not in town. So a little fun with Mr. Suh wouldn't hurt anyone, correct? After all, you're still only a human with desires and the want to take risks.

You'd always not so subtly drop hints at Johnny and he'd always give you that look that would have slick collecting itself between your thighs. A warning look.

A look that said, "cross the line and you'll get it"

But that's the thing, you want to get it and will do anything to get it.

"Y/n."

You'd ask yourself less than a million times if you want to do this or not.

Sure, you weren't this hesitant when you decided to sext your best friend's father knowingly when he was in business mode to irk him up but that's one thing.

And having to confront the same father who left a message smaller than a sentence that completely disregarded all the obscene text and images to show that he's not the slightest bothered or suprised by your behavior for that matter was another thing.

"Tomorrow at mine."

It's almost as though he deals with hormonal teenagers one as such as yourself on a daily basis and that thought kind of backfired at you considering the whole 'Let's piss Johnny off so that he'd finally give me what i want' agenda.

Ironic, huh?

"Mr. Suh." you start hesitantly, unsure of what to call him, scared of what his reaction would be after your inappropriate shenanigans last night.

Your stiff demeanor broke down a little with just a hint of shiver passing down your spine as you watch his features contort into a subtle but cocky smirk, "So now you're being all formal,"

"Well, what else would you like me to address you as?" you inquire, feigning oblivion to his tone and what he's implying at. "You tell me, doll. You seemed to have a lot of names to call me last night," he takes a step forward, prompting you to walk a step backwards, further into the corridors of his apartment and away from the actual location.

"I do not know what you're talking about.. " you let your voice shrivel towards the end, eyes wandering around the complex, finding interest in every small detail as you avoid Johnny's teasing gaze.

"You don't?" Johnny takes another step forward, latching his hands onto your forearms to prevent you from stepping further away, "You must have had a heavy sleep to forget all that you did last night," his voice drops dangerously low as he begins to walk backwards and back into the safety of his apartment, all the while keeping his gaze fixated on you.

"That won't do, would it? How about we take a walk down the memory lane? And see if that rings any bell?" He brushes your hair away from its static position on your shoulder, allowing him to appreciate all those fine details of your shoulders and neck that are exposed from your selection of clothing, an off shoulder.

"How about we don't...?" You ask with skepticism, jolting slightly when you hear the door shut behind you and at the new intrusion of personal space by the lad.

"Why are you acting all shy now, Y/n? Weren't you the one so eager to get into her best friend's fathers pants? Just be the whore you are, darling. Your facade's fooling no one." okay you definitely didn't see that coming.

Johnny's expressions morph into that of mischief as he watches your eyes grow wide and mouth fall ajar, "Am i not correct? Are you not a whore?" he asks with an eyebrow quirked up in a questioning manner.

You don't reply, almost as though the question was meant to linger in the open and that it was a rhetorical one. What you didn't expect, however, was for Johnny's hands to find pursuit around your neck, not necessarily applying pressure, but there as a warning.

"Answer me."

"I'm not.." you answer with a feeble voice, internally cringing at how squeaky you sound which only added to Johnny's amusement.

"Really? Because I don't think good girls go around drooling at a divorced man, her friend's father for that matter and definitely do not send lewd images and voice out their fantasies to a guy twice their age, still want to pretend you're innocent? Or you admit it and we cut down the chase?"

"Yes, I am." you breathe out when his fingers tighten around your neck, a triumphant smile making its way onto his lips. Yet, Johnny felt the need to keep pushing,

"you're what?"

"I am what you said I am," you speak, trying to avoid looking at the scrutinizing look on his face which seemed futile as he had his arms wrapped around your neck, keeping your head in place.

"I want to hear you say it, doll. I need to hear you say it." At this point Johnny's intent was to get you into a flustered puddle in his hold and it sure as hell was going in that direction, seeing how you can't even hold his gaze for more than a few seconds in a shot.

"I am.. I am a who-"

The sound of a phone ringing loud cut you off midway through your sentence, to which you were absolutely relieved. Johnny only seemed to grow annoyed the more he heard the phone ring. With a loud huff, he lets you go, not before giving you a stern look, "Go to my room." he instructed, making his way to the study.

You let out a breath you've been holding in unknowingly the moment he steps away from you. You watch his figure retreat from you with awe, only now realizing how messy you felt between your legs and how your knees keep buckling.

"Oh Hyuck!" you hear Johnny exclaim into the phone the minute you step forward to follow his command.

Your best friend is on call with the guy you're about to fuck.

Your blood runs cold as you shakily make your way into the apartment and towards the bedroom, shrugging off your sling bag, hanging it behind the door as you place your phone on the bedside table to wipe your hands dry from all the sweat that had accumulated at the palm of your hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine, about to eat to my dinner actually" you hear the moment to make yourself comfortable at the edge of the bed, looking over to the door where Johnny stood with his arms across his chest, the other holding up the phone as he leans his weight onto one shoulder, leaning into the doorframe.

You take the time to really appreciate his appearance. He adorned nothing more than a simple grey sweat and tight black tee but he seemed ready to walk down a runway at any given moment now. His long hair, slightly disheveled looking almost intentionally messed up, compliments his features. And oh his features.

The everlasting smirk stayed still on his lips, moving as he exchanged words with his son.

You only come back to your senses when Johnny snapped his free hand in front of you, gaining your attention. He points at his own shirt, then points at you, mouthing 'off' while he listens to Donghyuck speak about whatever he's speaking.

"Really? Jeno said that? Tell him I'm more than willing to welcome him as my gym partner, the lad seems strong" Johnny makes a quick move to remove the gadget from his ear, before holding it in front of him after placing the call on speaker mode

Your eyes widen the moment you hear the disturbance in the background and Donghyuck's voice resonate through the room. "no?? Why would you want to work out with him? He'll only make you feel old, you know?"

"Says the one who still can't beat me at arm wrestling. If anything, i think Jeno would make the perfect gym buddy for me," Johnny raises an eyebrow at your defiance, cocking his head towards the side, staring down at you with a predatory look, "Hyuck, you know, Y/n-" you scramble to take your shirt off at the mention of your name on the call, "-stopped by earlier" he lets out a silent laugh of disbelief.

"Oh? Oh yeah! I'd told her I'd give her book back before I left but I forgot, did you perhaps give it back to her?" Donghyuck questions.

"I figured you must've forgotten so, yeah i did." Johnny replies, pushing himself off of the doorframe, now walking towards you.

"Man, I miss her! I might facetime her after I end the call with you," Johnny sets down the phone beside you on the bed, leaning down, placing both his hands on either side of your lap, finding comfort at the crook of your neck,

"I remember her mentioning something about her cousin coming over? Maybe wait for an hour or so before calling her" his lips graze against your neck each time he spoke, you let out a tiny whimper at the so longed feeling, only to earn yourself a small bite at the earlobe, immediately accompanied by a hand over your mouth, "you need to be quiet, doll. Or my son would find out how much of a slut his best friend is," he whispers in your ear.

"Yeah? Did she mention which one?"

"No, not really, she kinda just stormed out after getting what she wanted" Johnny creates a trail of kisses all the way from your neck to your shoulders, down the collarbone while one of his hand worked to unhook your bra, "Yeah, she's weird like that," you hear Donghyuck let out a chuckle as you whine into Johnny's palm, your figure slightly trembling from the fear of getting caught all the while being excited about the risky situation he's put the two of you in.

"Anyways, I'll call you tomorrow? The boys are coming over now so I got to go! Night, dad!" Donghyuck speaks up again, "Night, Hyuck."

You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Johnny let's his hand drop from your mouth and makes its way towards your hair, brushing through the strands before pulling at it with a firm grip, "I had my son on call and here you are making all these sweet noises, you wanted to get busted, doll?"

"It's not my fault! You-"

"ah-ah! Don't talk back, angel. You're already in deep trouble, don't want to add onto that now, do we?" He makes a swift move to have you lying on your back, your torso completely exposed to him while he remains clothed.

"But Johnny-" you whine, jolting when you feel his hands caressing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, "How do you think Hyuck would feel about this?" his hands travel further north, cupping your heat from underneath your skirt. "fuck, you're drenched"

"Now tell me, pretty girl, what are you supposed to be calling me, now?"

"Johnny-, tha-that was a joke! I don't have daddy kin-" you try clenching your thighs close from the sudden attention your core was receiving. Johnny wholeheartedly lets out a laugh at your attempt to hide your true feelings, making a quick act of disregarding your soaked panties somewhere behind him.

"Darling, the more you deny it, the longer we keep going at it-" his thumbs at your clit, applying pressure but making no move to quench your needs. You let out a sigh of bliss at the feeling, your back arching off of the sheets at the sensation.

In any other situation, you'd be embarrassed at how sensitive you'd gotten just from all the dirty talking and looks Johnny passed you. But that's the catch, he's Johnny, the only one who can get you this sensitive while doing the bare minimum.

"Say it, Y/n."

"No, Johnny! It's-it's embarrassing.." you plead with your eyes, grinding your hips against his fingers, earning a satisfied, dirty look from the lad.

"Very well.. I'll just draw it out of you"

Without warning, Johnny with little to no resistance, slides two slender digits into your wetness, setting a pace fast enough to draw loud chains of cries from your mouth.

"You hear that, doll? You hear how fucking wet you are? Hm?" he growls animalistically, the thumb that remained on your clit now moving in circles with a motive to get you undone in seconds.

"Johnn-..!" you whine out, feeling your orgasm growing so close that you could almost taste it, "Still going at that, angel?" he questions, not really expecting an answer as he soaks up the pleasured look on your face. "Johnny- I'm close.. -" you fail to notice the mischievous grin growing on his face as he speeds up the movement of his fingers.

"Of course you are, doll" He feels you clench around his fingers, back coming off of the mattress as you ready yourself for your release, waiting until the last minute to draw his finger out.

"Why would you-? Johnn-I was so close!" you cry out as you sense your core clench around nothing, whining about the incomplete orgasm. "Why would I give you what you want when you wouldn't comply, baby? That's not how this works." He shrugs, licking his fingers clean of your essence, moving up from the bed to remove the shirt that seemed to be suffocating now.

"Johnny, please!" you whine louder, rubbing your thighs together to create some sort of friction, all unsatisfactory as it did not meet the same intensity as that of his fingers.

"Please what, doll?" He smirks, knowing the ball is in his court and that you'd had to give in any moment now. Johnny leans down once again, drawing lazy circles at your clit, using his other hand to hold himself up above and close to you, his minty breath which had a hint of coffee fanning your face as you whimper, finally feeling your high building itself up again. "Spit it out, princess, you know you want to." he speaks in a soft voice.

"Please..please" you beg for nothing in particular, getting all worked up again, "The begging's lovely, doll. But you're starting to anger me here, will you say it? Or should I leave you hanging again?"

You mutter prayers under your breath, hoping he wouldn't actually leave you hanging again, "Fine-" he moves again to remove his fingers from you to deprive you of pleasure all over again when you finally latch onto his wrist, keeping his hands in place blurting out, "Daddy! I'm so-sorry.. There, daddy, please make me come" you give in, the name, the feeling and look of pure victory on his face as he grins like a cheshire cat only intensifies the heat growing at a rapid pace at the pit of your stomach.

"Final fucking ly, princess. Daddy will make you feel good" He reinserts his fingers in, drilling it with desperation to see you come undone as he draws rapid circles on your now sensitive clit with the other hand, watching you squirm under him.

"Joh-Daddy i'm coming..!" you cry out weakly as you feel your orgasm hit you with much force, easily driving you into over sensitivity. Johnny's patient in helping you ride out your orgasm, not stopping until you let out a throaty sob and plead him to stop to allow yourself some room to breathe.

Johnny, however, makes no move to stop, only speeding up his fingers, his gaze fixed on where his fingers disappeared inside of you while his other hand held you down with a vise grip, "Give me one more, doll. I know you've got one more in you. " he pants, the feeling of his girth in confinement only throwing himself to sensory deprivation as he feels himself twitch inside his sweats painfully.

You shake your head, tears now flowing elegantly down your cheek, your lips puckered into a slight pout, your eyebrows drawn together as you let yourself melt into the pleasure Johnny was providing you with. "Daddy.."

You whine, feeling your second high reaching you ridiculously quick as you see Johnny's face contort in concentration,

"I need to get you nice and wet for me, princess, you're doing so well. Give daddy another one" you coaxes you with his sultry tone, words and actions, inevitably having you come undone under him for the second time that night.

You let out a choked moan, finally having enough as you curl upon yourself the minute Johnny removes his fingers from you, full fledged crying at the overbearing feeling of sensitivity.

Johnny groans at the sight, leaning down to press a soft peck on your sweaty forehead before getting off of the bed to remove his pants alongside his boxer at a slow speed, granting you some time to recover.

"Condom?" he asks, readying himself to reach into the drawing when he notices you shake your head a no as a reply, "I'm on pills.." you mutter weakly.

You hear him curse out at the thought of doing you raw, flexing his muscles before climbing on top of you again. He takes his time to gently turn you back onto your back, pressing his tender lips against your irritated one for the first time that night, his hand ever so slightly moving to play with your clit once again, making you jerk, "Daddy!"

"Sorry, doll. Daddy just needs to make sure that princess is ready to take his cock"

Your whining intensifies at his words, wiggling your hips to move closer to his own, "But I am ready! Look, daddy! I'm so wet and ready for you!" you whimper, earning a chuckle from the lad.

Just like all the other times that night, he aligns his cock at your entrance without a warning, the tip ever so slightly pushing through your walls, "Alright, big girl. Show daddy how much of a slut you can be for him."

Suddenly, Johnny detaches himself from you, moving further away as he leans by the edge of the door, smirking at you whining at the loss of contact, "Patience, angel"

He grabs hold of your hips, manhandling your body into all fours as he enters you completely with no trouble once he's got you where he wants you to be.

Something about having to take Johnny from behind was so sexy that you could almost immediately feel your orgasm grow, "Fuck baby, keep clenching around me like that and i won't last long," he grunts, moving in you with a steady pace,

"I never expected my son to befriend such filthy sluts like you, Y/n. Look at the mess you're making on my sheets" He grabs a fistful of your ass in a tight squeeze, the sudden shift in his demeanor only serving as a whiplash as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to the sweet orgasm.

"Jesus, doll, you're so fucking tight i can barely move" Johnny growls, talking to keep himself from coming too fast.

"Daddy.. I'm close. M-I'm so so close" you cry as your arms give out and you fall face first onto the mattress, the new stretch in your back only encouraging his cock to hit you deeper, finding the sweet cushion that serves as extra pleasure for you.

"Me too, princess, me too.. '' You hear him let out a whine, his thrusts growing sloppier as he does you slower but deeper.

He reaches around your body to find pursuit at your clit for the nth time that night, rubbing rapid, messy circles to go with his deep thrusts, "Daddy!" you reach your high with a high pitched cry of his name.

Johnny comes not too long after you as he couldn't resist the constant tight clenching of your walls around his cock. He thrust slowly to ride out his high as you twitch helplessly, face scrunched up in too much pleasure.

You feel your body being manoeuvred onto your side as he whispers sweet nothings which pass right through your ears as you feel him softened inside you, the feeling ridiculously soothing for your used up walls,

"You did amazing, darling." he kisses your temple, not making any move to remove himself from within you, which you silently thanked him for.

You both lay in silence as you turned your body towards him, earning a hiss and a playful smack from him as it added pressure onto his sensitive member. You wrap your arms around his torso, about to nuzzle into his chest and just drift away to dreamland when you hear the familiar ring of your phone from the table beside the bed.

You feel Johnny's body shift to reach out to get your phone, looking at the caller ID before handing it to you with a smirk that you knew meant that he was up to no good. "Oh! It's hyuck" you exclaim in shock, quickly accepting the call and placing it near your ear, moving to get away from him.

But Johnny seemed to have other ideas, as he latched an arm around your torso to keep you from moving, "Hey-" you begin, immediately feeling Johnny experimentally thrust into you again, making you whine, "Y/n! I miss you~-oh hey, are you okay?" you hear Donghyuck's voice from the other side,

You look at Johnny with a pleading and warning gaze to which you earn yourself a toothy grin from the lad,

"Of co-course! Just a little.. peachy,'' You turn around to place a hand on his chest to halt his movement, "You don't sound just peachy.. I've heard you like this before!" you hear Donghyuck make those noises he makes when he's thinking as Johnny keeps thrusting lazily the more you look at him, you see him open his mouth to speak, "Oh fuck! You're getting laid, aren't you???"

"Tell Hyuck daddy says hi"

943 notes · View notes

titanicsimp · 4 years ago

Text

Been too long

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Female!reader

Genres: Smut/lemon, fluff

Warnings: Sexual content including; vaginal sex, creampie, oral, general foreplay. Brief mentions of injury and trauma

Summary: You have known Reiner since you were both kids, and though life has separated you, a second chance might be in sight.

A/N: I finally wrote a story about my n1 love 🥺

It’s been over a decade since you’ve last seen Reiner, not counting the little glimpses at parades. It’s odd, the two of you had been so close when you were kids. You had known Reiner since he was 6 years old, and you had stuck to him like glue till the very last day before he went on his mission.

When you had finally pushed yourself to the front of the crowd the day Reiner had returned from paradise island, you looked straight at him, and he had looked back, but his gaze had been vacant. You had been too taken aback to wave or say anything. He had looked straight through you.

From your glimpses and the rumors you had overheard, it was clear that Reiner had changed. You refused to hear the whispers in the alleys about him having lost his mind. He might be not be the same anymore, but you knew that he would never give up. He was strong, not only a warrior by rank. Yet you would be lying if you said you weren’t worried.

❦

Now Reiner had returned from war once again, you were determined to at least speak to him this time. You followed the parade all the way up to the hall where the Warriors gathered and situated yourself outside the building. The guards made you anxious, but the fact that you’re an honorary Marleyan kept you relatively safe. It was okay for you to be there, unless it started taking too long.

When Reiner finally exited the building, you said a quick prayer to the gods and stepped out of the shadows.

“Reiner!”

He kept walking, seemingly so lost in thought he didn’t hear you.

“Reiner!” You tried again, quickly walking after him.

Reiner turned around suddenly, a warning look on his face. You gulped and instinctively took a step back.

When he realized it was you, his expression softened and then turned to confusion as he mumbled your name. “It is you, right?”

You smiled at him shyly. “Yes, it’s me.”

Now you got a good look at his appearance, your heart skipped a beat. His haircut had changed, and he had grown a beard, but the most striking was the way he had aged. Sure, he seemed older than he was, but he looked incredibly handsome.

“Sorry to hunt you down like this, but I really had to talk to you.” You told Reiner and nervously rubbed at your arm.

Your rubbing turned his attention to your arm, making him notice the red band around it. The sight of it made his expression turn cold.

“You.. got married?” He questioned.

You frowned, confused at the sudden question. When you noticed what he was glancing at, you realized why he thought so.

“Oh! No, I’m not married. I’m a doctor, actually.” You told him and couldn’t help but sound a bit proud. The work you had to put in for that band had been exhausting and neverending, but you made it.

Reiner scratched the back of his head and looked away from you. “I see, my apologies.”

Disappointment settled over you at his standoffish attitude. Was he not even slightly excited to see you?

You tried to shake off the feeling and gave him a smile. “It’s alright, we haven’t seen each other for a while... Perhaps we can catch up?”

The glint in his eyes gave you hope, but that quickly faded as he shook his head and sighed. “I don’t have time.”

No, you wouldn’t cry, no matter how much that stung. Looking into his eyes like this and still feeling alone was the worst.

“Ah, of course.”

Reiner turned his back to you and you watched him walk off, your heart feeling like a brick inside your chest.

❦

Another month passed and you heard nothing from Reiner, so you told yourself you were over it. If he thought you would first wait 9 years and then some more he was sorely mistaken!

You angrily pursed your lips at your thoughts as you picked out tomatoes at the market. Forget about him already.

You had filled your bag with the needed tomatoes and had paid the salesman when you turned to be on your merry way, but instead stepped right into someone’s chest.

“Gods! Ever heard of personal space?!” You grumbled as you backed off.

Your face paled when you recognized who you had bumped into. Reiner was peering down at you with that serious face of his.

“Sorry about that.”

You casted your eyes down, heaving your bag over your shoulder. “I-it’s fine, I didn’t realize it was you.”

He simply nodded at your words. You were uncertain as to what he wanted as he stared at you in silence. He didn’t even seem sure himself as to what he was doing.

You cleared your throat. “So, what is a warrior doing at the market?”

Reiner raised the basket in his left hand. “I’m getting vegetables for mother.”

A smile clawed it’s way onto your face. You guessed he was still a mommas boy. “That’s very nice of you, Reiner.”

More silence and staring followed before he finally decided on something to say.

“What clinic do you work at?” He asked.

You chuckled at the question. “How many do we Eldians have?”

The corners of Reiner’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Right.”

It made you feel nervous when you made eye contact with him, like you were a teenager again. “Well, if you ever get injured, you are free to visit.”

As soon as you said it you felt like hitting yourself. “But Warriors regenerate... oops.”

You waved off your own comments. “Injured or not, you are more than welcome.”

Reiner seemed amused, and you were unsure if it was because you were making a fool out of yourself or not, but it made you happy to see him warm up slightly.

“See you.. soon.” He said and waved you off, leaving you with a flushed face to match your tomatoes.

❦

A week later, you just got done with a long shift at the hospital and were getting ready to leave. Even though the soldiers had been back for some time, more and more kept showing up. Some that weren’t healing, some that were traumatized beyond believe, and some that had never come to get treatment and now their wounds were festering. It was exhausting, and terrible to witness, but you were happy you could at least do something to help them.

Darkness had already settled over the town when you exited the hospital grounds. When you turned the corner next to the gate you felt your heart jump in your throat at the sight of a silhouette.

“Hello?”

The figure stepped out of the darkness after you called out to it. You sighed with relief when you saw it was Reiner. “Gods Reiner, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” He said and stook his hands into his pockets.

“It’s alright.” You looked around the area. “Were you waiting for me?”

His lips quirked into a tiny smile. “I told you I would visit.”

That he actually did made you so happy. Perhaps he hasn’t grown as cold towards you as you first thought.

“Yeah, you did. You could’ve just come in though, it’s pretty cold out here.”

Reiner shrugged. “I’m fine. Join me on a walk?”

You nodded and gave him a warm smile. “Of course.”

He lead you through the dim alleyways and you wondered what he was planning. You were expecting him to say something, but he seemed to be mauling over every word again.

When you entered the plaza you knew why he took you here instantly. It was quiet, the cobbling of fountain in the middle of the square the only sound. It was peaceful like this, not crowded like during the day.

Reiner turned to face you, looking slightly nervous. “This is where-“

“I remember.”

The day before he had left for paradise island the two of you had snuck out and met up here. You could still remember how thrilling it had been.

You shook your head and looked down at the uneven street. “Why did you take me here?”

“I... I remembered you liked the fountain.” He responded, a slight shake noticibale in his voice.

“Reiner...” You looked at the small fountain. “If you remember, then you know why I’m not happy.”

His face, so young and hopeful, was still clear in your memories. He had been overjoyed he was now a warrior, finally having reached what he felt he needed to. It had given him the courage to tell you he liked you, and he had promised you he would return so you had to...

“Wait for me.”

You turned back to face Reiner. “That’s what you told me.”

He made a face like you just struck him, distress in his eyes. “I-I know. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You shook your head and laughed sadly. “It wouldn’t have been unfair if you had actually come for me when you returned.”

“I wanted to...” He gripped his forehead with his hand. “But the Reiner I had promised you died long ago.”

“It was too late.”

You took a step closer and felt tears sting at your eyes. “You’re right, it was too late.”

Reiner’s fingers clenched at your confirmation.

“It was too late for those kids, but not for us as we are now, Reiner.” You told him.

You chuckled. “I mean, I’m sure as hell not the same as I was 9 years ago, why would I expect you to be?!”

Silence fell as Reiner let your words sink in, dropping his hand from his face in shock. You could sense his doubt, and you felt it too. There were zero guarantees that you would fall for each other again, but you felt it in your heart that you had to give it a chance.

“I’m not asking you to feel the same way you did all those years ago. I just want you in my life, friend or lover.”

He remained silent for another minute before he spoke up. “Are you sure?”

You smiled and blinked away the tears that had built up. “I am.”

Reiner stepped closer to you hesitantly. “I don’t want to burden you. I’m not-“

You took one of his hands into yours. “I don’t care what you’re not! I want the Reiner that you are, nothing more and nothing less.”

He looked both terrified and happy with you’re declaration. You were scared he would pull his hand back, but he let you hold it. When he looked down at your joined hands, he seemed to relax slightly.

No more words were exchanged, there was no need to. His eyes spoke volumes, and you had said all you wanted to. In silence the two of you reunited, and a new promise was formed.

❦

The tavern is crowded tonight, the people of Marley having been in a surprisingly joyous mood lately. Pints are spread over the table in front of you and your group excitedly chats away with each other, some blaring instead of talking after having a few too many beers.

You had felt so nervous to join the Warriors tonight. Sure, in the last few months you had seen them around and had brief conversations with them, but sharing a whole evening with them was new.

In the end you had been worried about nothing. Zeke, Porco and Pieck had been more than welcoming, and not a single thing regarding their statuses had been brought up. Tonight they had just been people, and you were happy to see this side of them.

You lean back into Reiner’s arm, peaking up at your boyfriend. He raises his eyebrows and glances between you and Porco who is drunkenly arguing with Zeke about what beer brew is the best. You chuckle and roll your eyes at Reiner.

Your heart had been right. It had been a rocky road, and you both still had a lot to figure out, but after years of pining and separation you could finally call him yours.

“My, my, seems like those two had a bit too much.” Pieck notes with a laugh.

Zeke and Porco have quickly moved on from arguing and are now half sleeping on each other.

You laugh as well. “You think so?”

Pieck shakes her head disapprovingly, but her smile stays. She pushes at the men’s shoulders, but besides mumbles she gets no response. “I’ll have to carry them back home. What a pain.”

You sit up. “We’ll help you get them back.”

No way you’re letting poor Pieck drag them back all by herself, walking alone is already enough of a hassle for her.

You look at Reiner, who gives you a hesitant nod.

“Thank you!” Pieck says happily and sighs in relief.

The three of you stand up, rounding the table to haul the drunkards up. You and Pieck carry Porco while Reiner takes care of Zeke. You are happy you have experience with dragging men around in the hospital, otherwise this would be even harder.

“Come to think of it, you haven’t visited our place before have you?” Pieck asks you as the two of you carry Porco through the streets.

You shake your head. “No, I haven’t.”

She glances over at Reiner, who is walking a bit ahead. “I suppose it’s not much to show off.”

You all walk on in silence as you ponder if there’s a reason he hasn’t taken you there.

You meet up with Reiner in the hallway after everyone has been brought to bed and you have said your goodbyes to Pieck.

“I can bring you home.” He tells you.

You frown and shake your head. “I’d rather go to your room, unless you mind?”

He regards you for a moment before he gestures you to follow him. “I don’t.”

When you see his room, you get an idea as to why he didn’t want you to see it. There’s a one person bed, a chair, a desk, and a gun. The walls are painted grey, not decorated in any way.

“It’s... cozy.” You struggle to say.

Reiner sighs behind you as he closes the door. “It’s nothing.”

You turn around and throw your arms around his neck. “Should I be offended you don’t have any pictures of me?”

He quirks his eyebrows. “I don’t remember you giving me any.”

You laugh at his seriousness. “I suppose I’ll have to chance that then.”

You lean in to kiss him, but he frees himself from your grip and takes a step back.

“Reiner?”

It hurts to see him shrink away from you like this.

“Did I do something wrong? We’ve kissed before.” You ask him.

Reiner shakes his head and walks towards his bed, sitting down on it with a troubled look. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What’s wrong then?” You question, your confusion resonating in your voice.

“I should just bring you home.” He says and stands up.

Before he can take a step towards the door, you stop him, putting your hands against his chest. “No! If I’m going too fast or if you don’t want me, just tell me, please.”

“What? Of course I want you! But I can’t-“

You feel frustration starting to bubble inside of you. “Why can’t you?!”

“Right now you can leave!” He shouts out. “If we... I don’t want you to feel tied to me.”

His pained expression absolutely breaks your heart. Gods, you would do anything to bring the peace his mind needs.

You cup his face in your hands. “Reiner, I’m here because I want to be here. I don’t want to leave, I want to be with you.”

“In every way I can be.”

“I think-“ Reiner starts but you give him a quick kiss.

“Stop thinking.”

You stroke his hair out of his face. “If you want me, then please, take me.”

Convinced, he grabs your hands in his and kisses you. His lips move against yours roughly, his kiss desperate.

His hands let go off yours and instead start exploring your body through your clothes. You gasp into the kiss as he cups your breasts, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips.

Your tongue tangles with Reiner’s, your body heating up from his touches. You rest one of your hands onto his shoulder as you grab the back of his neck with the other.

Gods, how long have you wanted this? The fact that it’s finally happening is dizzying.

Not breaking the kiss, he picks you up and carries you to the bed. You mewl as he presses his body to yours. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin even through the layers of clothing.

You are left panting when Reiner breaks the kiss, needing more. It feels like a dream when he starts unbuttoning your blouse and you shiver when the air hits your exposed skin.

He drinks in the sight of you, gaze gliding over you chest slowly.

“Worth the wait?” You tease but blush regardless.

Reiner gives you a smile, and it’s bigger than usual. You melt at the sight. How hard you have fallen for this man yet again.

“Ten times over.” He mumbles as he moves to take off your skirt.

You feel yourself growing slick with excitement as your left only in your underwear underneath him. He hooks his fingers into your panties, but your stop him.

“You first.” You say and tug at his button up.

Complying, Reiner sits up slightly between your legs and takes off his button up and undershirt.

You smile and run your hands over his now exposed chest. His muscles feel so good under your hands that it makes you regret not taking him to bed sooner.

He chuckles at your fascinated expression. Even though he’s glad that you ogle him just as much as he does you, he’s impatient to finally have you fully.

Reiner swiftly takes off his pants, giving you another smile when he’s left in his underwear. “Seems it’s your turn again.”

You giggle and shake off your blouse completely. You unclasp your bra and slowly take it off to tease Reiner. He groans when your breasts are finally exposed, his hands coming up to squeeze them immediately.

He leans his broad form over you, capturing your mouth in a kiss as he fondles your breasts. You wrap your arms around his neck and moan into his mouth.

When he gently squeezes and rubs your nipples, you arch up into his touch. He breaks off the kiss, dragging his tongue over your bottom lip before he moves down. He kisses a trail down from your neck to your breasts before licking over your nipple.

“Reiner!” You moan out encouragingly.

He flicks your nipple with his tongue and sucks softly before he moves on to do the same to the other.

After giving your breasts several more kisses, he moves down again. Your breath hitches when he reaches the hem of your panties.

Reiner looks up at you, and you can easily read his expression, ‘Is this is okay?’, and you mumble a quick yes under your breath. He slides your panties down your legs and throws them to the side.

He lovingly kisses the top of your mount before he lets his tongue slide against the sensitive skin next to your folds. He teasingly continues licking around it before he finally dips into your core.

You thrash your legs at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your slit, and in response he grabs you by your thighs to keep you still.

Moans leave your lips when Reiner pushes his tongue past your entrance. He groans lustfully when he tastes you, making you blush.

He moves his tongue in and out of you eagerly till you feel like you are drenching his face.

When he feels your thigh muscles clench under his grip, he knows you’re close. He takes his tongue of you and you whine in protest.

Your protests are quickly silenced when Reiner’s tongue starts playing with your clit. He slides two of his thick fingers into you while he licks and suck at your clit. You see stars as his finges inside you curl to hit your sweet spot while his tongue drags circles over your sensitive nub.

“Yes! Yes!” You scream out as you cum.

Your walls quiver around his fingers as he continues moving them to ride out your orgasm.

When Reiner removes his mouth and fingers from your cunt, you give him a satisfied smile, telling him without words that he did well.

His hands stroke over your thighs. “I’ve dreamed of this so many times, but this is better anything I could’ve imagined.”

You sit up, which seems to surprise him. You quickly erase the fear of you stopping this from his mind by stroking your hand over the bulge in his underwear.

Fuck he’s big. His cock is straining against the fabric, his precum staining it already.

“I need to know what you taste like as well.” You whisper seductively and take off his underwear.

You do your best to hide your gulp when you see for yourself how big Reiner is. That thing is going to fill you the brim, but that’s exactly what you want.

You bend over, arching your back in the hope your ass looks good as you take his cock into your hand. He groans breathily when you stroke him, and you feel him tense up and stutter when you wrap your lips around the head. His reactions sound like music to your ears and make you eager to for more.

Deciding to focus on the head of his cock first, you drag your tongue flat over it and then circle it. Reiner’s hand goes to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as you start sucking.

When his cock twitches in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and sink the first few inches into it. You don’t take him into your throat yet, first working your way up and down so you can get used to it.

His groans and pants start increasing and you can tell he’s getting close. Mustering your courage, you breath in through your nose and slide the rest of his inches into throat.

“Shit!” He curses and the hand in your hair tightens.

You keep still like that for a second, savoring the sounds he’s making. When you start taking his cock in and out of your throat, it’s Reiner’s turn to see stars.

Surprisingly, you are doing better than you expected. You are convinced that only he can make a cock down your throat feel good.

“Fuck, you need to stop or I’ll cum.” He chokes out.

You look up at him, and he can tell you have no intend of doing so. Instead you slightly speed up your motions, and it doesn’t take long before Reiner forces you to still on his cock.

He shudders as he cums into your mouth, keeping your face snugly against his pelvis as he does so. You wanted to taste him, and now you are. He doesn’t disappoint either and you happily swallow the ropes of cum he spurts down your throat.

After he lets you pull away, you swallow the remaining cum in your mouth and give him a smile.

Reiner’s face is just as flushed as yours now. “Gods that felt good, but you didn’t have to.” He pants.

You giggle as you wipe off your mouth. “I know, but I wanted to.” You grab onto his shoulders and guide him to lay back down with you. “And I’ll do it again.”

Your words make him grunt in anticipation. His cock is still hard, and as he retakes his place between your legs you feel it poke at your cunt.

You wrap your arms and legs around him and take in his face. You note his stern eyebrows and the little frown creases between them, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose, his sharp jaw and so many more little things. You want to remember them all, so even if he goes away again, you’ll carry them with you.

“Are you ready?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You nod and give him a smile which he returns. After your confirmation, he positions his cock at your entrance and slowly starts pressing in.

The old bed creaks underneath your combined weight as he presses closer to your body, his cock sliding in and stretching your walls.

“Reiner!” You squeal in pleasure when he bottoms out in you. You feel so full of him.

One of Reiner’s hands strokes your hair out off your face and you can tell it feels so good for him as well.

He gently starts sliding his cock in and out of you, letting you adjust to his size before he goes harder.

You moan and writhe underneath him, experimentally bucking your hips to meet his thrusts now and then. The dull throb of pain that was present at first quickly having faded into intense pleasure.

Reiner groans your name over and over when he starts going faster. You’re so soaked from you earlier activities that your cunt makes a lewd sound every time he thrusts in, filling the room with even more noise. Neither of you care about whether or not someone hears, too lost in each other.

One of his hands moves to stroke your clit while fucking you. Your eyes roll back as your walls twitch around his cock in reaction to the extra stimulation.

“Yes! Don’t stop!” You cry out, feeling your orgasm approach you overwhelmingly fast.

Reiner continues rubbing circles over your clit, giving it gentle pinches now and then and making sure he keeps fucking you at this fast pace.

You grab onto the hair at his neck as you cum, too overtaken by pleasure to notice. He curses but doesn’t mind it, continuing to slip in and out of you. Your cunt feels so good, tightly wrapped around his cock as you cum, that you could do anything to him right now and he wouldn’t care.

Your breathing is ragged and your legs shake as your second orgasm fades away. Even through your foggy mind you realize Reiner hasn’t cum yet, so you start moving back against him.

“You feel so good! I want you to cum inside me!” You tell him boldly.

His eyes widen in surprise but you feel his cock jerk inside of you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, gods yes!” You cry out.

He smiles and chuckles at your enthusiasm. If only you knew how happy he is that you want him to.

Reiner stills and grabs onto your legs, making you yelp as he unwinds them from his waist and instead pushes them closer to your chest. When he sinks back into you in this position, he feels unbelievable deep inside you.

You scream his name as rams his cock in and out of you hard. Clearly you telling him to cum inside spurred him on.

His face is closer to yours now and you can hear every groan and ragged breath that leaves his mouth, causing your cunt clench around him.

Reiner’s pace becomes erratic as he approaches his orgasm. He presses your legs down further unconsciously, but you don’t mind at all as his cock is the only thing you are focusing on.

With a sharp finally thrust, he grunts your name and empties himself inside you. He kisses you as his hot cum fills you, his tongue quickly finding yours. You continue making out till his cock stops twitching, completely spend.

He gives you gentle kisses after he’s done filling you up. You giggle at him and return his affections by planting a kiss on his nose. Seemingly satisfied and assured that you are happy and okay, Reiner frees himself from your arms.

He seems hesitant to pull out, and when he does he watches his cum drip out of you. The sight almost gets him hard again, but he knows you need rest.

You scoot over to the edge of the bed so he can lay down, nestling yourself on top of his chest and against his side after he does so.

His fingers run through your hair, and as you lay basking in the after glow, you wonder if you should tell him again how you feel. When you look up at him though, you know it isn’t needed. He looks at peace, fully happy and relaxed for once. And those hazel eyes of his which you love so dearly, finally shine again.

#reiner braun #reiner #reiner x reader #smut #aot #snk #lemon #Reiner smut #aot smut #snk smut #Reiner x reader smut #fanfic #imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #x reader #fluff

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years ago

Text

The Emperor Part 2: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a blight strikes the Imperial Palace, and you're caught in the middle of it all.

wc: 1.7k

tw: straight fluff

masterlist

Soft whispers of the fever spreading through the country reach your door in almost record timing.

And while Toji does not address it directly, you know his intentions as you lay in his arms, listening to him divulge the most recent reports.

"I'm a little worried," he admits, and you stroke his arm carefully, looking up at his pensive face.

"You will do what you know is best," you reply and touch his cheek. "You're the emperor, appointed by the gods and their heavenly mandate. All you need to do is listen to their wisdom." Toji takes your hand and kisses your wrist, his green eyes closing.

"I am always astounded by the comforting words you share, my little nightingale." You smile, curling the same hand around his shoulder before sighing, and drifting off to sleep with his warm body nestling yours.

But the fever does not pass by your house.

The first concubine to get it showed no symptoms, and it spread like wildfire throughout the halls of the palace, even daring to touch the advisor to the emperor before Toji began to send each concubine back to her own hometown for safety.

Your safety.

You watch as the palace dissolves into a ghost town, the sounds of women and Princess Tsumiki vanishing almost overnight. And Toji becomes the only visitor to your chambers, even when he is not desiring to sleep with you. He confesses his worries, curls into your frame, and even bemoans his predicament before falling asleep in your arms. Most nights, Toji just lays with you in the bed, speculating about how long it would be until the blight would end. And you offer your best words to ease his troubled soul, but soon, it's apparent they are not enough.

Then, one night, you awaken with chills and a cold sweat running down your spine. You thank the gods that this was a night when Toji did not come to lay with you, citing strategy meetings with the country's best doctors as his reason. And when you cough loud enough to call the attention of a maid outside of your door, you know that you might be seriously ill.

"Do not tell the Emperor," you beg the doctor, who looks down at you with pity. "Just tell him I am menstruating." But the lie only keeps Toji at bay for an hour or two, at most.

When the door slides open in the morning and Toji walks in, you see two of him in your sickly haze. But you know there is only one Toji Fushiguro and that he was not pleased to see you in your bed, sheets pulled around your weak frame.

"Please," you croak, waving your hand. "Don't come any closer, Your Holiness."

"Toji," he corrects you, kneeling by your bed and taking your hand. "And you cannot command me to do anything."

"I am unwell," you whisper. "Let me recover before you return. I do not want you to get ill. Our country needs you."

"But I need you," Toji rebuffs. "I'm staying right here until you get better. If I catch the fever, then we will be sick together." You do not have the strength to argue, so a chair and a table are brought for Toji to work and stay by your side through the day and night. As you fade in and out of your sickness, you see him hard at work, glancing over at you every so often, hear him arguing with the doctors outside of the door, and feel him gripping your hand in his as he kneels at your beside, praying to the gods feverishly when there is no one else around.

You can barely eat, at one point only drinking water, and you sleep most of the day away that you don't even recall which day it is when you do awaken. And Toji remains by your side, even as you catch signs of the fever letting up; the sounds of life return to the palace as you slowly recover.

It is a crisp, autumn evening when you finally have the strength to be wheeled into the garden, a large blanket covering your legs as Toji pushes you around and comments about the flowers that are blooming. You're touching a chrysanthemum when Toji sighs, looking out at the massive space.

"I'm not calling the others back." Your eyes slide to the Emperor, who crosses his arms and nods his head as if this was the moment for him to make up his mind. "I'll pay for them to have all of the comforts they had here... but I will not ask them to return."

"Are you sure, Your Holiness?"

Toji clenches his jaw, biting the side of his lip that's scarred.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"But I have not given you a s--"

"I don't care." The discussion is ended at that moment, for you know the Emperor is not one to be persuaded when he has made up his mind. You watch as the letters go out, along with the monthly payments, and Toji watches you regain your strength, his conviction about his decision growing every day.

_____________________________________________________________

Illness strikes you again as soon as you feel like things are normal. As you lay in the royal chambers with cool towels on your forehead, you wonder if this is a punishment from the gods.

Nausea plagues you, and even though you desire to eat anything and everything, you throw it up as soon as it's been digested.

And Toji? Toji is frustrated.

"I will not permit visitors to the palace. I will not allow you to step one foot out of these doors. You will be fed by my hand, and no one will be permitted to handle you except me." You listen to him growl at you while you chew on ginger root, your blank stare focused on his face. "Do you hear me, y/n?"

"Yes, your Holiness," you reply, but something in you tells you that this isn't the kind of sickness he thinks it is. Your suspicion is confirmed when your cheeks get redder and rounder and you gain a little weight, the small bulge beneath your clothing showing slightly. Even the doctors stare at Toji with blank and idle eyes, wondering when he would catch on to the fact that you were growing.

Toji stands at the window one night, fiddling with his robes when you approach him from behind and hold him close.

"I love you," you whisper, and he looks over his shoulder at you, lips quirking up in a smile.

"You want something, don't you? You only use that tone when you're about to ask me a question," he laughs. "Whatever it is, you can have it."

"I already have everything I want," you reply, kissing his back. "Besides, you've been so busy being the Emperor that you haven't noticed the changes in your own home."

"Hm? Do you mean the new trees? I had them planted for their blossoms but it seems--"

"Your home, Toji."

"This is my home," he murmurs, turning around to face you, eyebrow raised. "Is there something you need to tell me?" When you grab his hand and place it on your belly, Toji stares at you, then frowns. "Um..."

"Feel," you encourage him again, holding his hand captive.

"Little nightingale, I am not sure why you have me feeling your--" Toji stops, his green eyes looking off into the corner of the room as his fingers roam back and forth across your stomach. He blinks twice, pulls his hand back, then quickly grabs the hem of your nightgown and ducks underneath.

"TojI!" you exclaim, but you feel his hands touching and exploring, and hear him talking to himself excitedly.

"How long?" Toji wonders underneath your dress, movements stilling.

"Um..."

"How long?" he repeats eagerly and you laugh, placing your hand on his head.

"I think it's only been two months." Toji reemerges from under your gown and clasps your shoulders.

"Your feet, are they always cold?" You search Toji's face before whispering,

"Yes...?" The light in his eyes is impossible to dim. His face brightens considerably, and then he begins to pace around the room.

"Right, cold feet..." He begins to tick his fingers off one by one, muttering to himself again.

"My love, is everything alright?" you wonder, lacing your fingers together as he runs his hands through his dark hair and turns back to you.

"I've just been told you're with child. I'm among the happiest men in the world, sweet one." His fingers touch your face tenderly, and you lean into his palm, smiling. "But you must get your rest. We will talk about it with the priests in the morning."

"Priests?" you wonder as he shuffles you toward the bed. "What do they have to do with--"

"And think of names for our son," he urges you, pulling the sheets around your frame. "I will plan the celebration as soon as I hear from the gods."

_____________________________________________________________

"What if we named him... Kosuke?" You wonder, playing with Toji's hair in the morning light. Toji sticks his tongue out and makes a 'yuck' noise, and you purse your lips.

"How about Sachihiro?"

"That's a mouthful," you reply, and he rolls his eyes, exhaling deeply. "Maybe Tatsuo?"

"Dragon?" Toji laughs, looking over at you. "You want me to name him after my rivals in the East?"

"Don't talk about Emperor Geto like that," you mutter, swatting his arm. "He's been so kind."

"He's been so nosy," Toji retorts, just as Princess Tsumiki comes running into the room, followed by her attendant, who appears to be extremely apologetic as she tries to scoop her up. "No, no," Toji mumbles. "Leave her be."

"Let's ask the Princess what she thinks," you suggest, and Toji nods, standing from his seated position on the floor.

"Tsumiki, what would you like to name your little brother?" he asks, pulling her up into his arms.

"Mango," she replies, sticking her fingers in her mouth. Toji looks over at you, unamused.

"Sure, we'll name him mango," you offer, smiling at the girl who leans over to touch your face lovingly. "It's your favorite fruit, after all." Toji tilts his head, then inhales sharply, eyes widening.

"Megumi," he breathes, and you raise your brows sharply.

"Blessings," you whisper, and he nods, eyes locking with yours as his smile widens. "Megumi..." You try the name out on your tongue, finding it fits quite nicely.

"Megumi."

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro

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karamfilmare · 3 years ago

Text

White Gold and Maple

Kazuha x reader

Dedicated to my lovely mutual for her birthday @ahtsuwu -- sorry it came so late. You deserve this!

Description: Kazuha is behaving oddly, and for what reason?

Content: fluff, humor (?), surprise birthday, Kazuha being just the best bean. Modern AU (I think), light swearing(?), mentions of a spouse passing away (don't worry it's not too sad),

A/N: Sorry if this is shorter than my usual pieces and not as detailed. I wanted to get a short piece out, I hope it's fine. Also, not edited or proofread, sooo oops.

Stirring from your sleep, you stuck a hand out to find your boyfriend and sneak in close--only to find the spot was unoccupied and cool. Lifting your head, you frowned at the absence.

"Kazuha?"

You swung your legs off the mattress and walked around, confused by the silence in your home. Until you heard some light humming.

Finding your way into the kitchen, the smell of warm maple wafted around you. You found Kazuha standing by the stove, his hair messily put up in a loose bun, as he cooked what appeared to be some breakfast. He did not appear to notice your presence yet, so you quietly walked up behind him and slipped your arms around his waist and leaned against him.

"Oh, I didn't know you were awake. I wish you'd sleep in a bit more, I was going to wake you when I was ready."

"But I missed you," you murmured, slowly breathing out a sigh of content into his back. "I'm glad to see you."

"Ok, go sit down, I'll bring the food over in a bit."

Sitting down at the stool at the counter, you propped your head up on your hands, watching him move about. He turned around, the rich scent of maple and pancakes filling the air. Setting down your portion, he continued to watch you eat, asking if he did a good job with them, before laughing at your enthusiastic nodding, since your cheeks were full of sweet fluff. Your morning had gone along well, with not too much trouble, before he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"With deep regret, I must leave to attend to some things, but it shouldn't be long, alright?"

"Already? Ok, good luck."

And soon enough, he was out the door, leaving you to clean up after the couple of dishes left from breakfast.

------------------------------------

Bzzzzt Bzzzzt

Reluctant to get off the couch, you ambled to your phone on the nightstand of your room, seeing a text from Beidou.

"Call me."

"Really?" you wondered out loud, knowing Beidou wasn't really one for conversations in the morning. Shrugging, you

"Hey."

"Yo. Listen, can you swing by where I'm at? I'm bored and I need company. Ningguang is shutting me down again, saying she's busy or some shit, ya know, the usual."

"Uh, sure, that's fine. Just send me your location, I'll come by."

"Great! I'll text you the location. Don't be late."

Don't be late? Seriously? From Beidou? "Fine, 'captain', I won't hold your important self up."

-------------------------------

"So, I didn't think you'd be a mall person, Beidou."

"Nah, I just felt like it today, though. So, are you doing anything for your birthday?"

"My wha--"

Oh.

"Crazy that you remembered. But no, nothing planned."

The dark-haired woman quirked an eyebrow up, letting out a small sound. "Well, alright. This'll be my gift to you then. Let's go."

She dragged you along the mall, going from shop to shop, usually checking out food, candies, booze, and some clothes. After indulging in some boba tea and candies, you passed by a quaint little shop that caught your eye.

"Wanna go in? Come on, you seem interested." Beidou encouraged you to enter the shop, and you both quietly walked along the little stands. Earrings adorned a turning stand, necklaces and colorful rings were in glass cases, engraved paperweights, and other such pieces filled the room. You noted that these pieces didn't have the cold, pristine look of big designer jewelry stores.

"Huh, they look handmade, don't they?"

"Oh yes, every piece you see here is handcrafted by my family," a new voice startled you, an older woman with strands of grey enhancing her light brown hair. "Sorry for sneaking up. You've a keen eye."

"They're lovely." Indeed they were, the meticulous attention to detail. The rings looked like they were braided in gold, the gemstones inlaid upon them glittered under the light. Chains were linked carefully, the pendants all unique in some fashion. These pieces had character, something you would not mind having every day on your person.

Something caught your eye--a white gold ring with your birthstones, all laid along a pattern around. Not an engagement ring by any means, but something you visualized adorning your finger on a daily basis.

No, I might come back later and purchase it sometime. If it's not there, it wasn't meant to be.

"Ah, this one? My son made it to commemorate his late wife for her birthday, which is today. She passed several years back, but he chose to never forget her. This year, he decided he would create this ring that was similar to the one he made for her on an anniversary of theirs." The woman's eyes turned down slightly, her smile falling a bit. "But don't worry, he made this piece so that someone may show their love to their partner once again. Would you like to try it on?"

You hesitated, but Beidou coaxed you to try it on, before switching her attention to her phone. The woman slipped the ring onto your ring finger, finding that it fit you perfectly.

A grin appeared on her face. "It suits you, as if it were made for you."

Staring at it for a moment, you felt the slight longing for it, not just because of its appearance, but for the story that came along with it. You shook your head before slipping it off. "I might come back sometime later and see if it's here. I don't have any way to pay for this at the moment, I apologize. But it is beautiful."

"No worries. It might find itself back to you in some manner."

Perhaps, but unlikely. Nodding your head, you trudged along out of the store, expecting Beidou to be behind you, only to find her still inside the store, talking to the owner of the shop. Several minutes later, she hurried out, a faint smile lingering on her lips.

"Don't ask."

"I-- alright."

-----------------------------------

You parted ways with Beidou shortly after, and just as you leave the mall, you receive a text from Yoimiya.

"Hey, I can't make it on time to pick something up, could you go to this location for me, please? I'll make it up to you, PROMISE!! <3"

Shrugging your shoulders, you replied asking for the address, to which she replied with a pinpoint of the location. You texted Kazuha where you were about to go, just in case he made it home before you.

Except, the location wasn't a building. It was a large tent on the top of a hill, away from town. You found a slip of paper and picked it up, wondering whether the person was inside.

What the hell is Yoimiya picking up over here? Is she doing illegal business? What is going on here?

Just before you began to spiral in your thoughts, the tent opened up, revealing a smiling Kazuha. "Well, I'm glad you could make it. Come on, you're just in time."

"Just in time for--"

He pulled you close to him, guiding you to the other side of the tent next to the tree. Motioning for you to sit down, he settled himself right next to you. "Have you read the paper?"

Shaking your head, you pulled the slip of paper you found, finding words on the page in Kazuha's pretty handwriting.

The universe was blessed this day

When the heavens opened up

and you descended on earth

To touch my life.

The stars remain in your eyes,

And I wish on every single one,

That I can be called

Yours.

"Kazuha..." you breathed out, your mouth not able to form the words, as your gaze turned to the beautiful man before you.

"Look up."

At his urging, you turned your face up to the night sky. Several beats passed, before a streak of light shot up, before breaking into a large burst of colors. Several more shot up, taking your breath away. The show of sparkles

"Is that--"

"I had a bit of help to set up this moment. I hope you liked it."

Silence settled in, realizing that he was so excited about your birthday all this time. So the sudden texts from Beidou and Yoimiya weren't just random, they were planned.

"Oh, one more thing." Kazuha searched a pocket and pulled out a small box, bringing your hand close. "I heard from Beidou that this caught your eye, and I couldn't let it slip. So..." The ring you found earlier appeared once again before you, settling onto your ring finger once more. "I got it as a promise for us."

The emotions that built up within you finally spilled, tears streaming down slightly. "Kazuha, I swear...I'm--I'm in bliss right now, just being here with you. I just..." You placed your hands on his face and pulled him in for a soft kiss, which was immediately reciprocated.

The tenderness of the moment cemented a new shift in the relationship, one marked with devotion, rich and sweet, like maple. A birthday like this? You would remember for the rest of your life.

#kazuha x reader #kazuha fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kazuha #genshin impact fluff #to my lovely mutual Ori #° ori <3

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul -- 8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon.

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner.

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks.

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile.

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease.

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.”

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic.

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night.

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement.

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm.

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you.

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?”

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her.

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers.

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

----

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!”

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute.

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart.

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again.

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight.

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number.

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts.

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.”

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above.

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder.

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it.

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers.

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips.

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you.

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house.

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice.

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs.

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio."

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house.

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself.

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her.

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out.

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit.

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy.

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note.

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know.

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

----- La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make.

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away.

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would.

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake.

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself.

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone.

“Come downstairs, please.”

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way.

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left.

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.”

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.”

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her.

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out.

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head.

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies.

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them.

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet.

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…”

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

444 notes · View notes

negansbackdoorwhore · 3 years ago

Text

You’re Everything

Warnings: fluff

Jason was a man who doesn’t stay still. He likes to be somewhere for a couple years at most but then packs up everything and leaves to a new place. He claims he doesn’t want to be bored in his lifetime. So when the time was coming he gave plenty time for you to know. Mostly when he was distant and how he would go slow when it came to sex. Jason decided the last night he would be in town, he wanted to spend it with you.

He had been holding close to his body and you could tell he was struggling with this. His face buried in your neck and arms holding you body close.

“When are you leaving?”

“Let’s not talk about it.” He suggested as he moved up your body to capture your lips. You let him kiss you for a long moment but stopped it from getting further.

“I want an answer Jason.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it. I just wanna enjoy this time with you.”

“But you obviously don’t want to go, so why leave?”

“You wouldn’t understand baby.” He then moved to kiss you and felt his body settle between your legs. His hands running over your covered chest and you moaned into his kiss.

“Wait. Jason I need to know when you’re leaving.”

“Why?”

“So I have time to give you something I bought you.” He looked down at you with his eyebrows quirked. You sat up and had Jason move off you. He watched you reach into the night stand drawer and saw a wrapped box. You handed him the red box with a pretty black bow. He takes it and gives you a look as he unwraps carefully. His eyes widen as he sees a pretty silver watch.

“Oh wow. Baby this is amazing.”

“Take a look at the bottom of it hun.” You suggest as you hug his arm and watch him flip it over. He then sees your initials engraved in cursive along with his own and a small heart.

“Baby this is too much. But I love it.”

“Try it on.” You watched him latch it onto his wrist and you smiled at how good it looked against his tan skin.

“It’s just a little something to remember me.”

He kissed your forehead and used his odd amount of strength to move you into his lap. You giggled and had his face buried into your chest. You felt him inhale deeply and squeezed your waist. You gently ran your fingers through his hair and lightly scratched his upper back.

“I’m leaving in the morning.” He said as you went to kiss him. He only held you close and made sure you were sound asleep before leaving at the crack of dawn. As he got dressed, the sight of you sleeping soundly made him hesitate leaving but he reached to kiss your cheek one last time.

You woken up to a cold spot next to you and frowned. You now have to deal that last night was the last you’d see of your now ex boyfriend. You spent the day lounging around the house and smiled at the memories of your relationship with Jason. Though that couldn’t change the fact you didn’t want him to stop from living his life. Night had passed you by and you realized it was already two in the morning. You yawned before going to retire for the night. As you went to go under your covers, a loud knock startled you. Confusion washed over you as you silently made your way to the front door and heard another loud knock. Trying to keep caution you look through the peephole, to your surprise it was Jason. So you open the door without further hesitation.

“Jason, are you okay? I thought-“ He cut you off with a rough kiss. His force almost makes you fall over but his arms hold you in place.

“Why are you here? You should be gone by now.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“What?”

“Baby, you mean everything to me. I’ve been in a few serious relationships but nothing is as sweet then coming home to you. I need you with me.”

He said while breathing heavily over your lips and holding you close.

“Give me time to get a few things. I’m coming with you.”

#jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffreys thirst squad #jdm fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan x you #jdm #jdm x reader #the good wife jason crouse #jason crouse x you #jason crouse x reader #jason crouse

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samwilsonsbabymama · 4 years ago

Text

A Change of Scenery

Pairing: Single Dad!Angel Reyes x Single Mom Black!Reader (but anyone can read)

Summary: Reader moves to Santo Padre and meets the father of her daughters best friend.

Warning: hella fluff like it’s all fluff lol

Word Count: < 2,900

A/N: This is based off of this post that I made a few days ago. Huge thanks to @my-rosegold-soul for being such a big help with this and for being an all around amazing person 💖I hope yall like it!

✨I don’t give anyone permission to copy/translate/repost/rewrite my work. Minors, DNI at all. ✨

"And AJ said that I could come to his house whenever I wanted, mommy," your daughter, Imani, said, causing you to smile. This wasn’t the first time that Imani had brought up going to Aj’s house, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. You continued listening as she told you about how excited she was to see AJ at daycare as you drove.

You had moved to Santo Padre on a whim a few months ago after spending your entire life in the big city. You were tired of the fast paced life and you needed a change of scenery, so, with very little planning, you'd packed up all of your stuff, and you and Imani moved.

At first, you had been worried that Imani wouldn’t adjust well to being in a new environment, but after a few days in her new daycare, Imani had made a few friends. One friend, in particular, was the constant topic of conversation.

AJ and Imani were in the same class and came to be fast friends. From the first day you picked her up, all Imani could talk about was AJ this and AJ that. You loved hearing about the ‘adventures’ that the two 5 year-olds got up to at daycare.

After you had pulled into the daycare parking lot, you began to walk Imani to the door.

"Mani!" a small voice called out to your daughter causing you both to turn.

"AJ!" Imani responded and pulled the little boy into a hug.

You chuckled as you watched the two embrace.

"So this is Imani?" a voice rumbled next to you causing you to turn.

As your eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight shining in your face, you were taken aback by the man in front of you. He had dark hair just long enough for a few strands to fall into his eyes. His plump lips held a hint of mischief behind his smirk. His brown eyes were dark and you felt yourself wanting to get lost in them for hours. Your eyes traveled down his body catching the name “Romero Brothers” on his work shirt.

Your eyes trailed along the tattoos on his arms down to the many rings that adorned his fingers. You imagined what they would feel like against your skin. As you continued sizing the man up, you bit your lip almost forgetting where you were.

When he cleared his throat, you snapped your eyes back up to his only to be met with a breathtaking smile. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and you stuck your hand out towards him.

“I’m Imani’s mom, Y/n,” you said and your voice trembled when he reached out and took it. You’d half expected for his hands to be rough and dry, but you were pleasantly surprised to find they weren’t.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’m Angel, AJ’s dad,” he said as he shook your hand.

“It seems as though our kids are best friends; Imani talks about AJ all the time,” you smiled.

“Yeah, Imani is famous in our house.” If it were possible, Angel’s smile got bigger as he spoke.

“Mommy, it’s hot,” Imani interjected before you could respond to Angel. You looked down at your daughter and smiled as she impatiently stood in front of you.

“I guess we should get these two inside,” you said to Angel as you reached for the door.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he said as he moved to open the door for you and the kids. You smiled and whispered “Thank you” as you walked into the building to sign Imani in.

When you were done signing her in, you turned to look back at Angel. When you noticed that he was talking to one of the teachers, you waved Imani ‘Goodbye’ and headed out the door.

A few days passed since you met Angel, and you were still buzzing. Never in your life had you felt this way, not even when you were with Imani’s father. You didn’t want to read too much into this, especially since you had only met this man once, but you were dying to see him again.

As if the Universe had decided to grant your wishes, two weeks after meeting Angel, you ran into him again. Only this time, it wasn’t at the daycare. You’d taken a day off work to get some errands done while Imani was at daycare. You’d been out all day, and your last stop before going to pick your daughter up was the carnicera.

The sight that greeted you when you walked into the only butcher shop in town made your heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be right with you,” Angel said. His back was still to the door as you made your way to the counter.

“Take your time,” you responded with a smile.

At the sound of your voice, Angel stopped doing whatever he was doing and slowly turned to face you. His face lit up when he saw you and his smile caused you to smile.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/n,” Angel said as you got closer.

“You too. I thought you worked at Romero’s?” You questioned.

“Been thinking about me, hmm?” Angel smirked and you rolled your eyes. “I do, but this is my pops shop, I’m helping him out for a bit.”

“Felipe is your dad?” Angel nodded. “Yeah, I can see it now.” You laughed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Angel chuckled. “Now what can I get for you?”

You rattled off the different cuts of meat that you needed, and Angel quickly got to work. When he rang up your total, it was considerably less than usual.

“Umm, Angel,” you said with a bit of hesitation. “You didn’t ring me up for the correct amount.”

“Sure I did,” he said with an easy smile.

“Usually it’s twice this price,” you replied.

“Oh, we’re running a special today,” Angel replied and you quirked your eyebrow. “Pretty girls get half off.” He winked at you.

“Angel, I can’t let you do that, what would your father say?” You replied with a slight chuckle.

He shrugged, “Why don’t we do this instead. Why don’t you and Imani meet me and AJ at the park this Saturday for a play date in exchange?”

“Angel, I can’t do that. I’ll pay full price, and we’ll meet you at the park,” you countered.

“Too late. I’ve already put it in the register, can’t change the price,” he said as he took the money from your hand and quickly counted your change.

You stood there dumbfounded as he moved quickly handing you your change and meat.

“Great, so AJ and I will see you and Imani on Saturday at the park at noon,” he stated as you took hold of your purchase.

You snapped out of your stupor. “We’ll be there,” you said with a smile before you turned and walked out of the door.

Holy shit.

Saturday didn’t come fast enough. You hadn’t told Imani about meeting up with Angel and AJ at the park, opting for it to be a surprise.

When Saturday finally came, you readied Imani for her playdate and grabbed your purse before the two of you headed out. Normally when you took her to the park, you didn’t really put much thought into what you wore, but this time, you did. You still wore comfortable clothes expecting Imani would want you to play with her, but they were nicer than usual. You actually wanted to impress Angel.

The drive to the park was short and as soon as you parked, you spotted Angel and AJ near the slide. When you helped Imani out of her car seat, you pointed towards the slide.

“Imani, is that AJ?” You asked with fake shock.

Imani’s head snapped towards where you were pointing and she took off running towards her best friend. You laughed and followed behind her and watched as AJ ran up to her. The two grasped hands and took off running towards the slide.

As you walked behind Imani, you took in Angel’s appearance as he moved towards you. His hair no longer fell into his eyes and his beard was freshly lined up. He wore a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, putting all of his tattoos on display.

“Hi, Y/n,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hi, Angel,” you smiled back.

The two of you walked towards the park bench where you could see the two kids playing together on the equipment. As you sat in silence while watching the kids play, your mind drifted back to the man sitting next to you. Why was such a gorgeous man single? Obviously someone had snatched him up at one point in time, but why would they let him go?

“So, Y/n, what brings you to Santo Padre?” He asked as he turned slightly to face you.

You’d shrugged. “Just needed a change, I guess,” you responded. “I’d done the high city thing my whole life, and I didn’t like it much. It was too busy, too fast-paced, ya know?”

Angel nodded, “Makes sense. But why Santo Padre?”

“Because it’s close enough to my family but far enough where I won’t have any unexpected visitors.” You laughed and Angel laughed along with you.

The two of you continued talking about life and parenthood as the children played. Before long, you noticed a food truck parked down the street and the four of you walked to it and grabbed something to eat. When you reached for your wallet to pay for Imani’s and your food, Angel quickly slid his card through the machine stating that since he invited you out, he was going to pay for your food. When you attempted to argue, he shot you a look that quickly ended the discussion.

As the four of you ate, you listened to Imani and AJ talk about all the games they played at the park. When the four of you were done, you noticed how tired Imani and AJ were, and as much as you didn’t want the day to end, you had to.

“I think it may be time to head back home, Mani,” you said as you lifted the sleepy child into your arms.

She and AJ let out quiet protests at the same time.

Angel nodded his head as he also lifted AJ into his arms. You laughed as the little boy could barely keep his eyes open and you imagined that Imani was doing the same. You and Angel walked side by side back to your cars and you noticed that you had parked near him. When the two of you had both kids buckled safely in their car seats, met each other behind your car.

“I had a great time with you, Y/n,” Angel said.

“Me too,” you responded as you looked into his eyes.

“Look, y/n, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I would really like to see you again,” Angel said after a few moments of silence.

“That would be nice,” you agreed. “These two had a blast.”

“No, I mean, just you and me. I mean I would love to do this again and have a playdate for these two, but I want to take you out on a date. If that’s what you want.” Angel ran his hand through his hair as if it were a nervous habit.

“Really?” You were shocked. “I mean, yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Here, put your number in my phone, and I’ll call you later.”

You reached out and took his phone and put your number in before handing it back. “I’m looking forward to hearing from you, Angel.” You smiled and turned to get into your car and waited for him to get into his before you turned it on. You were about to start playing some music when your phone rang. It wasn’t a number that you recognized, but you answered it anyway.

“Hello?” You answered.

“It’s later.” Angel’s voice came through the receiver.

You chuckled and looked to your right to see him sitting in his car smiling at you.

“I was thinking,” Angel began, “that we could go out tomorrow night around 8 pm. I could come to pick you up, or we could meet somewhere, whichever you’re comfortable with.”

You chewed your bottom lip. “I don’t know if I can find a babysitter with such short notice.” You really wanted to go out with him, but you needed more time to get a babysitter.

“No worries,” Angel replied. “You can use AJ’s sitter and I’ll leave AJ with my dad.”

You laughed. “Are you sure?”

You watched Angel as he nodded ‘yes’. “Look, I’ll give her a call when I get home and I’ll have her call you. Her name’s Leticia, but we call her Letty, and she’s great with AJ. I’m sure Imani will love her.”

You looked back at your still sleeping daughter and smiled. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Great!” Angel exclaimed. “Alright, I’ll give Letty a call right now and I’ll have her call you tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smiled. “I’ll talk to you later, Angel.”

“Y/n?” Angel said before you could hang up. “Could you let me know when you get home? I want to make sure that you two get there safely.”

Your heart stuttered. “Of course. Will you let me know when you get home as well?”

Angel responded with a ‘yes’ before you two finally hung up promising to talk later. On your drive home, you thought about your life choices and how they brought you to Santo Padre. You were excited to start this new chapter of your life, and you couldn’t wait to see what new experiences were in store for you.

Your first date with Angel was nothing short of perfect. You found that the two of you had so much in common, and soon, you found yourself on dates two, three, and four.

Months later, your relationship with Angel was still going strong. The two of you constantly talked on the phone and texted each other, and you often spent your nights and weekends cooking for four instead of two. You were taking things slow, always choosing to go home rather than spending the night. Each time you stayed late, leaving got harder, and Angel always respected your decision.

And this is where you found yourself, currently stretched out on Angel’s couch with his arm wrapped around you. Imani and AJ were already asleep on the floor and the movie that you all were watching was long forgotten as you two talked. Somehow, the two of you made it to your ex’s and you weren’t sure how you’d made it this far into the relationship without talking about them, but here you were.

“I thought things were good,” you stated with a shrug. “But then he just up and left one day. Imani was 7 months old when he left, and it’s just been us ever since.”

“I completely understand,” Angel sympathized. “AJ’s mom had us all fooled but one day while I was at work, she dropped him off with my pops and we haven't seen her since. AJ was one. I don’t even know if he remembers her.”

After a few moments of silence, you glanced at your watch and shifted to sit up.

“I think we should head home now,” you said as you stood up.

Angel remained silent as you bent down to pick Imani up. You tried your best to not wake her because you knew she’d be grumpy if you did.

“You can always spend the night, Y/n,” there was a hint of hesitation in Angel’s voice as he spoke. “I mean, you don’t have to, but the offers there.”

You halted your movements and stood back up. “Angel, I-”

“I’ll sleep on the couch if that makes you more comfortable. I just,” he paused and ran his hand over his face. “You shouldn’t be driving this late at night. Please stay?”

You chewed your bottom lip. He was absolutely right, you were too tired to drive, so you nodded your head.

“Imani can sleep in AJ’s room, he has a second bed for when his cousins' sleepover,” Angel explained. The two of you carried the sleeping children to AJ’s room and tucked them in before leaving.

You two stood in the hallway for a few seconds, smiling at each other before Angel leaned in for a kiss. Angel pulled back after a few minutes and placed his forehead on to yours as you both caught your breath.

“Good night, Y/n,” Angel whispered before he completely pulled away from you and walked back to the couch after taking you to his room. You changed into one of his shirts that you found and stood at the edge of his bed for a few seconds before you made your way back to the front of the house.

The room was dark, but you could see his face as he scrolled on his phone. You cleared your throat and Angel’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Angel, you don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you said as you fiddled with the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“You sure?”

“I mean,” you shrugged.“We can’t have sex, but I’d like to still sleep with you and I'm sure your bed is more comfortable than the couch.”

Angel swung his legs over so that his feet were touching the floor and you averted your eyes when you noticed that he was only wearing his boxers. You kept your eyes on the floor as he walked up to you and tilted your chin so that you were looking at him. “Mi dulce, I’ll do whatever you want.”

You took Angel’s hand in yours and led him back to his room. He watched as you climbed into his bed and flipped the covers back for him. You waited for him to climb in before you cuddled up against him and he quickly wrapped you into his arms.

Part Two

A/N 2: If you ‘liked’ it, please reblog or leave a comment/reply even if it’s only an emoji.

#angel reyes x black!reader #Angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes x plus size!reader #angel reyes x plus size reader #mayans mc fanfiction #maree writes

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freshlyrage · 11 months ago

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 20

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

word count: 5.4k

a/n: I forget that the strip of time between midterms and finals is about A WEEK. So I have been manhandled and tossed around (not in a fun way) this semester. I finally have time to breath this break.

Please enjoy , this chapter is all love.

I have a surprise for you all soon.

Also, thank you @ficjoelispunk for the kind words about RLW, it inspired me to continue when I was in a rut because of finals. Thank you.

You overestimated how tired you were because you woke up with drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and the worst morning breath of 1986. The sheets were rustled and missing the body you clung to most of the night. Rolling your neck and stretching your limbs so tight you spasm a bit, you look over to the clock reading 1:15 pm. Yikes.

Yawning, for some reason. You slept for nearly 13 hours, there’s no reason for you to still feel-

Then, the loudest most earth shattering rumble from the pits of your belly shook your entire body.

“Well shit.” You mumble to yourself, pulling the covers up to conceal your breasts while you stretch over to the telephone on the nightstand. Eyes squinted you drag a manicured hand down the list of extensions for services. Maid service? Might as well.

Dialing the numbers you wait.

“Hi-Hello. Um could I please get um… whatever breakfast you have up to room 417.”

“Well we’ve got honeymoon eggs, croque madame, quiche Lorraine.” You roll your tongue against your cheek and smile to yourself.

“Could I just get scrambled eggs and a Belgian waffle. No syrup, just butter and uh...powdered sugar!” Your glance over to the space where Javier had been. “Get me beignets too actually.” Your lips quirking.

You pictured it so clearly, it was summer again and you were thirteen. There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead from biking uphill in 97 degree weather. Your brother and Genie up ahead talking about something important to them. Javi had been a few weeks from fifteen, the summer was ending. He paced with you every time you biked anywhere. I’m not laughing, he’d laugh as he waited for you to catch your breath at the new shop across town. It was rare for anything new to open up so the second your ragtag group got word of the bakery opening by the new 7/11, plans were made.

You remembered the air conditioning in the place being blasted so high you let out a joyful squeal when you walked in. Tall adults ahead of you in line covering the menu. Peering your neck to get a glance, getting frustrated at how packed the small bakery was. Guess they weren’t the only ones with a plan. Suddenly hands tuck under your arms and you’re being lifted. You gasp so loud your brother whips his head back in concern before breaking out into laughter while you’re held in the air by Javier. With your eyes blown wide and your stomach dangerously pitted, Javier grunts below you.

“A-alright make a decision I can’t hold you for so long.” He groans, “Although I know you’re just gonna order the beignets.”

You scoff and he puts you down. And he pays for an order of beignets, blowing powdered sugar in your face as you all sat and ate.

You wonder if he’ll remember when he comes back from his meeting. You’re giddy at the memory, the two of you were always sweet huh?

Well you feast and the housekeepers come in and strip the bed and dishes while you shower. You attempt to dress appropriately considering Javier hadn’t disclosed any details about what the day entailed. You opted for the orange ribbed tank top, a matching cardigan and a gray wrap skirt. And you knew how much Javier adored your hair wet in its natural state of waves so you hadn't bothered using the outdated hotel dryer.

Javier bursts into the room early at one pm, you're at the desk squinting into your compact. Removing the mascara that had spread to your lid. Rubbing your glossed lips in the meantime, watching him from your peripheral you could feel the stress expanding from him as he places his coat on the bed. Reluctantly you look at him as he rolls his neck, “Hi…” You croak, stupidly nervous suddenly. You can taste the bad mood. Your eyes avert and you open your compact again to look busy. He doesn't respond, just the sound of his shoes across the rug. Through the compact you see him crowd your chair and before you could look back at him he’s placing a kiss to your scalp. Closing your eyes to take in the gentleness your turn in your seat to look up at him as he’s hunched over, your palm closing on his cheek and kissing him tender.

“Hi.” he finally responds. Your eyes crinkle at their corners.

“I saved you something.” You kiss him again before reaching over for the plate of beignets. His eyes are bright and wide when he gets a glance.

“Jesus–thank you.” Setting the plate down, you stand, giving him your seat as you are done getting ready. He sits and grunts the second you attempt to give him space to eat, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. “Don’t you dare leave.”

You roll your eyes, picking up the doughy concoction and bring it to his lips with your hand cupped to catch the powder. Good thing you weren't wearing black. “Do you remember when we had these for the first time?”

Javi takes an aggressive bite and scrunches his brow before smiling as he chews. You liked to watch him eat, you think it had to do with the way his jaw strained, you desperately wanted to lick and kiss on his jawline. “Yes… There were so many people in that bakery. I remember that guy–”

“What guy?” Your brain starts indexing and filing the memory, you don't remember much after he picked you up you must have been in a blushing daze. Javier takes another bite.

Licking his lips, “The guy that elbowed you to get ahead in line– me and your brother flipped out on him–wait you don't remember?” He mumbles seems like something you’d remember, you pinch his arm with a laugh and it all comes back to you. You all had waited on the line and someone attempted to cut, elbowing your ribs in the process. You recall gasping and immediately gripping at your rib at the sudden bruise. Javi called the man some sort of dickhead while your brother asked if you were okay. Javier finishes the sweet, reaching around you to grab a napkin. “Thank you for saving me some but we have plans in 15 minutes.”

Your cheeks burn bright and you give him a small smile, “Oh do we?” You place a hand on his shoulder, dragging it down to his bicep. You watch goosebumps rise on the sliver of skin peeking from his shirt.

He grips at your waist playfully, “Yes we do. Now up–before I keep you trapped in this room all day.” He gives your behind a small spank, he mumbles, tempting me with that tiny skirt.

Javier doesn't tell you where he’s taking you. All you know is that it's walking distance from your lodging. He nods a tight lipped smile to a few colleagues in the halls of the hotel, his hand grip yours firmly. You knew he was protective of you before all of this, you hadn’t pictured he’d be this possessive in public. You absolutely adored it. You refrain from psycho analyzing your desire to be held and protected by your partner and opt to bask in the fleeting moment with your head leaning on his arm as you walk into the busy streets of New Orleans.

Javier wastes no time in using his left hand to fish for his sunglasses. Oh it was a gorgeous day, a rare breeze in June and jazz filling the air. You were beaming and walking ahead, dragging Javier with you. “Please tell me you’re taking me to the French Quarter, I’ve never been.” You drag him down the unfamiliar streets.

He chuckles, “We are but it’s actually that way.” His voice has a slight rasp to it, you wonder if he’s getting sick. He points and shifts his force, slightly pulling you closer to him as he crosses the street. The street off the Roosevelt wasn’t much, but to you it had been everything. You had been so used to the flat impossible to walk anywhere landscape of Florida and the too-small-for-its-own-good of your hometown that when you look up to see the buildings tall enough to block the sun you feel a wave of satisfaction. You were on vacation. You walk, taking in the streets, the architecture. The red brick sidewalks and the creole style buildings.

The colors so bright, your orange top matches a building you pass and you suddenly wish Javier took his camera. Javier eventually lets you go in the spirit of watching your wonder take control of your body. He watches every small bit of your reactions, he wants to tell you about the places he had been in those six years. Had you known he came down to New Orleans three times before, that he thought of bringing you here once already. His eyes crinkle at their corners when a woman carrying a small puppy in her hands stops to call you beautiful. Your face goes beet red as you thank her and ask to pet the tiny thing before she blesses you.

You look back at Javi, slowing to get to his side again. “That was the nicest thing to happen to me, ever.” You snake your hand into his and his chest fills with a warmth only you can provide. How scary is that?

“Well you do look beautiful, been watching you this whole time.” He admits, hold the shame-it’s just you. You smile a dimple deep grin and bring your conjoined hands to your lips, kissing him on the dorsal of his hand. Leaving your mark, your eyes flitting up. You gasp.

“We’re here oh my god!” ahead of you the time ceases to exist. The past in front of you, buildings gradually changing in style, some new in its classic Creole style and others chipping and rustic, the greenery. And so colorful. The sounds of street performers and parents positioning their kids for photos swarm you two. “We should pay one of those tourist photographers to take a picture of us.” You suggest,

Javi swallows thickly. He knew once he’s given the picture he’d carry it wherever he went, he imagines it taped onto his desk in Colombia. His chest aches at the idea.

He nods, and lets you drag him to a man with a large polaroid camera snapping a picture of an elderly couple. Javi checks his watch. He frowns, he had a plan for the two of you—it was important to him but he so desperately didn’t want to cut short the spark in your eye. You wait patiently with your hands behind your back and Javi thinks it’s the cutest shit ever. He places a palm right above your behind for attention, craning his neck to speak to you. “I told the man at Belle Form that we’d be there in 15 minutes.”

Your lips quirk in a little confused smile, your brows pulling together. “What’s that-“

“Does the lovely couple want a photo?” The man calls and Javi nods, taking your hand and walk the two of you in front of the pale yellow building, wrapping his arm around your waist. You blush furiously and lean your head against his chest. The man croons, lifting his camera to his eye. “Beau couple, bisous! Kiss! For the second one.” Your eyes widen but Javier doesn’t allow himself to think, he grabs your jaw and kisses you softly as the man snaps his second shot.

The two of you part and the man holds both images in his hand, letting his camera fall against his chest. He doesn’t shake it, Javi reaches his bulky pocket, fishing a ten from his wallet. “Keep the change, let’s go.” You smile at the man and take the pictures before Javier is hauling you along.

“God where are you taking me!” You exclaim, bringing the photos to the light, squinting to see the image slowly developing. Javier chuckles, his hand patting the box like shape in his pocket opposite his wallet, your brows pull together too curious to know what it is.

“I came to New Orleans by myself for work in 1982.” He states. It starts like all of his stories, sudden and straightforward. Your chest absolutely blooms, you loved kissing him, keeping him close but nothing came close to hearing stories about his life. Seeing things from his eyes. And maybe it had to do with the nights you spent in your dorm wondering just what he was doing at that moment. Over the bustling noises of Canal street. “I spent the whole weekend alone, I ended up at a museum. You know I expected paintings, maybe photographs—I hadn’t known that galleries displayed poetry in their exhibits.”

You frown, unsure where he’s going with the story. Something awful turns inside of you when you picture Javier alone in a place like this. You lean into him more as the two of you strolled. He continues. “My mother wouldn’t call herself a poet but she was. She came to America with just her poetry book and her copy of Twenty Love Songs and a Song of Despair. My mom was the biggest Neruda fan out there. And the exhibit had been an ode to Pablo Neruda.”

His eyes covered, they had been misty. He never got emotional over his mother, over the thought of her or the memory of her face. Instead every time he hears a poem he thinks of her, and for some reason that is what twists his insides. You look down at your feet, eyes glassy too.

“Anyway the gallery is called La Belle Form, it’s right up here.”

You give him a simple kiss to his shoulder and his tense form drops slightly. “So what exhibit are we seeing today?”

Javier chuckles, cutting the tension he created. Taking the photo from your hand, the small white border pinched between his thumb and pointer. His own cheeks redden at the sight of the two of you deep in a kiss. “We aren’t seeing their current exhibit.”

“Javier, it's been quite some time.” a man in a three piece suit opens the door to the dimly lit gallery. Your eyes widen and you look up to Javier, he had been here only once yet a local remembers him by name. The man looks late into his fifties, with dreadlocks pulled in a low ponytail with streaks of gray. He reminds you of a professor you had at Miami. The gallery is empty as you step in, only a few paintings hung and half written words stuck to the walls. Is this place even open?

The cold air from the air conditioning eases you though, the Louisiana heat was nothing to be played with. Javier holds your hand in his as you two follow behind the man before he stops in the middle of the studio. “I’m Edmond Marcel, this was my father's art gallery–I’m sure Javier here told you about how we met.” He glances at the brick wall of the man next to you.

You ignore his last bit and reach your hand out, “I’m Andrea Diaz, Javier’s girlfriend.” You wear the title with pride, you’ll entertain it for now, you know once you go home you could never use the thing. Edmond gives Javier an approving smile and shakes yours firmly. “This is beautiful real estate, my goodness.” It truly was, from outside it seemed like a small gallery but once you were inside the depth of the place went on, the ceilings high and there had been half walls creating canvases for exhibits.

Javier lets your hand go as you step closer to a wall with a painting of a man sitting on a stool cleaning his trumpet, attached to the wall was a shelf with two headsets and a cassette player. Just above the shelf is a label, Excerpt from L’il Liza Jane, 1916. Your eyes go wide at the date and you look back at Edmond, pointing at the display asking for permission with just the wonder in your eyes. He lets out a hearty laugh, “I’m still working on the curation for this exhibit, feel free to explore while I set up in the back. Keep her entertained.” He pushes Javier’s shoulder and walks off.

You stay in silence until you hear a room door shut from around the corner. Your eyes snap to Javier once it's safe, “Okay– how do you know this super cool old man.” You whisper, taking a few steps, your gaze meeting a drawing of Nina Simone. Javi laughs, slinging his arm over your shoulders while the two of you observe the beautiful penmanship of the all smudge ink drawing of the singer.

“I told you I visited his gallery four years ago.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, he could always tell when you were getting cold. You had just been thanking the gods for the cool air of the museum but you chilled easier than a gold diggers heart. Your lips still purse in confusion, it just doesn't make sense. You could name 40 places you've been to in the past year and you doubt any of the workers could remember who you were.

“So you met him once and he's willing to open his place up for you.”

“Kind of– it isn't just that-”

“Romeo and Juliet, come back here.” Edmond calls from an unknown corner. Your brows pull even tighter and Javier sets off a pleased look at the announcement before taking your hand and bringing you to the back office where Edmond yelled from. You have a small smile on your bemused face, your eyes fall to half finished paintings and sculptures propped before you're at the doorway of an art studio. Edmond blocks any view with his eyes glancing down at his watch. The two of you stand in front of the man hand in hand. “I’ll be removing some vinyl lettering from the last exhibit by the Alyce Frank painting, be gentle, don’t mess with the prints. Getting reprints is expensive and it's just me, when you're done leave them there. I’ll clean them up.” He nods, giving me a smile and Javier a nod again, squeezing his shoulder and leaving once again.

The room is lit warm, open shelves and dividers holding older art line the walls. The walls painted a light gray. The rooms huge, years and years of work so meticulously separated and protected in the cases and shelves. But in the middle of the room lies a table. Your brows furrow as you approach the cluttered area. Your eyes straining to read the prints, your heart skipping a beat when you notice each print signed off the same.

Neruda

Neruda.

Your brain doesn't catch up with your heart, your body is on autopilot as you sit yourself on the stool. Your finger traces along the multiple poems laid out, the photos of him, his home, a tomb that isn't his. In the direct center is a case of pens. It was the exhibit Javier had seen all those years ago, maybe it wasn't everything but god were there a lot of poems on that table. Your eyes fall on a watercolor painting of a blue and red home.

“I was only 20 when I came here. I was miserable the entire week, I didn't find enjoyment in sight seeing if no one was there to see it with me.” You listen to Javier speak from behind you, you listen with emotion crawling in your throat but you also read.

So on the coast comes to light,

out of seething shadow, the harsh dawn,

gnawed at by the moving salt,

swept clean by the mass of night,

bloodstained in its sea-washed crater.

He knows you, he knows your silence is an invitation for more, “I strangely thought about my mother the entire week I was here. It probably had to do with all of the history, the culture, the folklore that surrounded this city. It was–it seemed like somewhere she’d run off to.” He admits. It's the first time you hear a hope in his voice, a small wish that maybe he'd run into his mother. You chew onto the inside of your lip to hide the tears that threatened to fall. He was just like you, wasn't he? “I thought of you too. At that point when I was in Houston, surrounded by work and Lorraine, I had tried to bury any thought of home. But I came here, alone and I guess it hit me.”

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.

My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.

I love what I do not have. You are so far.

My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.

But night comes and starts to sing to me.

“Anyway I ended up here, and seeing the exhibit just set me off. It was after–”

Your eyes fall to the image of the tombstone, a poem engraved in spanish. “Pure your gentle name” You whisper, low enough for you to hear but you know he heard you because he sucks in a shaky breath. You read the rest in a whisper, translating in english because you had seen it before. You know it sat framed next to the bowl where the car keys went in the Peña house.

Pure your gentle name, pure your fragile life,

bees, shadows, fire, snow, silence and foam,

combined with steel and wire and

pollen to make up your firm

and delicate being.

“My father gifted my mother a poetry book with that poem engraved in it. He gave it to her in the hospital the day I was born. She took it with her when she left, my dad has a copy of it framed. The image of the grave was next to a painting of Tina Modotti. I cried for the first time in a long time in the bathroom.” You don't dare turn to look at him because you could hear the nerves in his voice and that alone is setting you a fine line of sobs of devastation and adoration. “Edmond found me in the bathroom and you know me–I don't just open to everybody but the second he asked me if I was alright…” Javier chuckles to hide a sniffle. “Ya tu sabes, I told him everything. About my mom, about my dad… about you.”

“Me?” You whisper to yourself, Javier grumbles from behind you and finally moves to sit with you. Hurriedly you wipe your eyes, strangely, yet so him… he holds your hand. Rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “Was he-did he-”

“His father died during his fifteenth year of being a therapist, so he had useful advice to say the least.” His hand moves to the image of the tombstone, dragging in front of both of you. “I told him that this poem gave me bad memories, remembering when she left and how I tore the house apart looking for her poetry book and my dad found me in all that clutter– I was a mess.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, the small bits of his story came in slowly but you were all ears. A hand wrapped around his bicep for comfort. Javiers free hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a choke itching in his throat. Another sniffle and you could feel the embarrassment illuminating off him, you spared him a glance and thumb his arm again. “Sorry-I don’t know why–”

Your brows furrow, eyes watery. “Don’t apologize to me–is it why you stayed in contact with Edmond? Because of your moment in the bathroom?” You ask, steering him away from the direct thought of his childhood and you could feel the relief. Baby steps, you don’t need it all. You’re just so glad he’s opening up.

Brushing a tear that got caught in his mustache, he begins again. “He just listened and asked my permission—he asked if it was okay for him to give me advice which was appreciated. He told me to give it new meaning, to remember it as my mothers but also to remember it as the love from my father. Remind myself that he gave her the book out of love for her, out of appreciation for carrying his child. Out of love for me.” Javi exhaled a laugh, “Shit, I went straight to the print shop and framed the poem when I got to Houston and then I wrote my dad a note about my conversation and sent him his own framed poem. Who knew a little therapy was all I needed.”

You screw your eyes shut in a cackle that echoed the room, rubbing your eyes clean of tears. You haven't had many people who cared enough to tell you beautiful tales of their life, you’ll take Javi’s broken stories any time. You looked around again, reality setting in. Javier Peña had an entire art gallery archive pulled for you– just for your date, he had been so grumpy all day and last night when you teased him about his gift probably because he was anxious for your reaction to him opening his heart out in front of you. It was the most romantic gift you've ever received.

It’s him who makes you feel the most loved and he hasn’t even said the words yet. Maybe it’s you who must say it first.

“Javier Peña, you're a romantic.” Is all you can manage to say, you say it with a smirk on your lips nonetheless. Gaze flitting up to him as his lips turn upwards beneath that mustache of his. Eyes narrowing in a failed attempt to keep a straight face but they crinkle and shine beneath.

“Don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin my reputation.” He mumbles and you roll your eyes, slinging your arms over his shoulders and kissing him deep. Soft lips against yours and that so familiar manly feeling his mustache tickling your nose. He smiles between the kiss, slipping a risqué tongue. Pressing so hard you nearly tip off the stool. “Tan bella, Andrea, perfect.” He murmurs as you part, your lips raw from the make out intermission. Dizzy, light headed, you lean your head on his shoulder once more and take in the place around you.

All soft light and all his personal history. And selfishly for a moment you envied him for knowing his mother enough to miss. You suddenly felt so silly for crying until you slept over someone who offered you nothing to miss. You want to pinch yourself to reprimand the silliness of it. Andrea, don’t you know you aren’t the only girl to have a dad up and leave? Why does your world have to end?

“I was having what seemed to be a panic attack when I called you Thursday night.” Javier admits in hushed tones, like someone was in the room other than you. Like he’s ashamed to be so vulnerable. “I had this date planned in my head after the night you begged me to be honest with you, when you walked in on me reading the details for this trip. I planned the whole weekend out just for us before I ever offered. I was a little nervous to ask you, figured you’d tell me I’m crazy and that the risk was too high.”

The crease between your brow deepens, “I’ll always say yes to you.” You whisper like a prayer, a promise.

He mumbles an, I know, “When your brother came over to talk to me about you, about your grandmother and the possibility of you seeing your father in New Orleans I panicked. I had this full body ache of knowing I needed to be there for you when you see them and a weird chest spasm when I thought of it going wrong, then you cried on the phone and told me all you wanted was a family.” He says the last part fragile, gentle and pure. Like him repeating it pains him just as much as you. Yet you feel embarrassment more than pain, embarrassed to have been so desperate and needy that night, and sure you felt it deep in your bones but verbalizing it to someone else—fuck did that make your cheeks heat.

You grimace, trying to conceal the genuine heart ache you felt hearing him recall that night. You offer nothing to say, afraid of speaking and breaking down on your first date with the boy you’ve dreamt of being with.

He spares you, shuffling in his seat, causing for you to sit straight as he fished in his pocket. While attempting to pull a box from his denim he talks, “But then I thought about how I had this planned—that it might help with what you might be feeling—fuck hold on.” He stands and digs his hands entirely into his trousers.

He pulls out a tiny box, your heart nearly falls until you realize it’s far too thin to be what you wanted deep inside—you abandon that thought. Not now, too soon. He sits again, and fully turns to you as the box lays unopened on the image of his mother’s favorite poem. “I told you on the phone that I was your family. Andrea, I really mean it. No matter what happens tomorrow—you are meeting them with a family and you’re leaving with one too.” He pats the box. And you tear your eyes away from him as they begin to well.

Your shaking hands fumbling for the box.

Thumbnail slipped under its lid to delicately open the thing. And your heart swells beyond its capacity, “Oh Javi.” You whisper, there sitting on a reprint of Neruda is a box with interior engraving.

Pure your gentle name, pure your fragile life,

bees, shadows, fire, snow, silence and foam,

combined with steel and wire and

pollen to make up your firm

and delicate being.

And sat so perfectly in the box were a pair of earrings. Small gold bees, its wings spread and instead of a striped abdomen and stinger, in its place sat a red stone carved in a perfect shape for the little insect. Your heart is going wild, so filled with love and appreciation. You wondered if this was real, if he was real? Will this end with, and it was all a dream? Will I wake up alone again?

“Is-is that my birthstone?”

Javier nods, “I had it made on Tuesday when you saw me in the grocery store, I got nervous because the gift bag was in my hand.”

You chuckle between tears, your hands reaching to remove the bees from its plush purple hive. “I didn’t notice—Javi-“

“I gifted my dad the poem to show him appreciation for being my family. You’re the only person in my family missing an heirloom. So that every time you wear it you’re reminded that you have a family.”

Your brows quirk as you break out into tears, placing the jewelry back in its place and attacking your perfect boyfriend, your family, the hardest most aggressive kiss of all time. Nearly knocking him clear off his seat, you press into him so tightly you could feel his heart race against yours. And the kiss is all teeth and passion and frankly too charged for an art museum but you couldn’t care. You loved him so much, you cried hard like you’ve just been proposed to. Somehow this beats that fantasy.

And so unlike Javier who tried to keep his serious manly face when you were this eager, he smiles and chuckles against your thankful, thankful lips. Parting for a breath you realize there had been tears from him too, with blurred eyes his thumb finds your cheek and like always he pushes away his own tears to clean up yours. His own cheeks wet, he thumbs your tears dry. No longer do they have to dry on their own. You couldn’t do this anymore, you cannot bear not telling him.

“Javi— I lo-“

“My goodness did I just interrupt a proposal!” Edmond enters the room with a gasp, his eyes bouncing from a jewelry box, a pile of Neruda poems and a teary eyed couple inches from devouring each other whole.

Javier looks at you with an embarrassed smirk, his cheeks burning up under your own hand as you quickly wipe away his tears too.

"Actually this is our first date."

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

Text

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head.

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more.

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes.

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion.

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you.

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still.

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second.

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily.

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that.

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together.

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real.

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want.

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment.

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky.

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii

#so aha.... not the dystopian au #but i was inspired by a song in the car and this happened <3 #mingi #mingi angst #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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viperbarnes · 3 years ago

Text

The Tie That Binds – [Five of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: I hope you enjoy!!!

<- Prev / Next ->

“What time is it there?”

“Same as New York, only it’s day time here.”

You hum softly and try to shuffle over onto your side, phone still pressed to your ear as you settle again. On the other end of the line, you can hear muffled street sounds, the hum of conversation in a language you don’t understand, and the occasional car horn. You remind yourself that Bucky hadn’t been gone all that long, barely three days now, and try not to feel foolish.

“Honey?” His voice is clear through the phone, like you could hear him for real in the room with you.

“Yeah, I’m still here. Was just moving.” You tell him. You can imagine him ducked into a nook of a brightly lit street, phone to his ear, his brow pinched in that worried way it often was.

“Is it helping?” He asks, but you let out a small sigh.

“No.”

Silence follows for a few seconds, and you listen closer to the sounds on the other end, trying to make a guess at where in the world he might be.

“I’m sorry, honey…” There’s more guilt in his voice than you like, and you can’t stop yourself from frowning deeply, despite the fact he can’t see you.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t just stop helping people because your girlfriend doesn’t like being alone…” You huff, rolling your eyes. You hear Bucky chuckle softly, and it makes your own lips quirk.

“I know, but I’m still sorry that you had a bad dream and that I’m not able to be there… I don’t like leaving anymore than you do.” He assures you, and you know he’s speaking the truth. Ever since your relationship had taken a turn for the romantic you’d been inseparable. Rarely did a day go by that you weren’t with one another, and contrary to what you might have thought before, being so used to your isolated existence, it didn’t feel suffocating.

Nothing felt as though it had changed all that much, it wasn’t as if the nature of your time together had really changed. You weren’t suddenly all over each other all the time, but there was a closeness, a tenderness now that underpinned everything.

You moved slow in some aspects, physicality mostly, and fast in others. Since Bucky had first kissed you over a month ago now, you’d started staying with one another through the night. You’d sleep beside one another, and truthfully, you hadn’t had such restful sleep since before HYDRA had kidnapped you. You’d been surprised when Bucky had told you of his initial hesitation, that he hadn’t wanted to wake you up with his own nightmares, but the nighttime company seemed to lend him a sense of calm as well.

Your stomach stirs at the thought of him not sleeping well while he was away either.

“I’ll be okay. I promise.” You assure him, pausing briefly before continuing.

“I just wanted to talk to you… hear your voice.” You confess, feeling rather silly, like a high schooler with a crush. Bucky hums down the line again, but this time, you imagine his sweet and bashful smile.

“I don’t think we’ll be here much longer, but just in case, why don’t you stay at mine until I get home?” He suggests. Bucky’s apartment was in a slightly nicer part of town, the building itself a little more secure and modern than yours.

You smile against the side of your phone, and nod.

“Okay. But you’ll try to let me know when you’re on your way home, right?” You both check and remind him, but you hardly need to. He meant it when he said he didn’t like going away as much as you didn’t.

“You’ll know the second I do, honey… If my phone still works.”

You chortle at the wince you hear in his voice, memories of a mission before last, when he’d used the device as parts in a makeshift bomb.

Reluctantly you bid goodnight, waiting until the very last second to hang up before you feel alone again in your far too empty bed. Unable to stare at the vacant spot next to you any longer, you decide to put Bucky’s advice into action sooner than the morning, gathering together a small bag of essentials before calling a ride service and making your way to Bucky’s apartment.

It’s still lonely without him, but between his sheets you’re able to slip back into sleep, dreaming of far more pleasant things this time.

---

Two days later you arrive home at Bucky’s apartment, cold, tired, and ready to crawl onto his couch and watch some mindless TV.

You’re still halfway through hanging up your coat and scarf when a noise makes you freeze. It was unidentifiable at first, just a sound that wasn’t supposed to be, but as you stop and listen closer, you can make out what you think is a very soft whisper, and some kind of scratching.

Your heartbeat hiccups, but it’s then, as you finish hanging your scarf on a hook, that you notice the dark black duffle bag kicked against the wall, right in front of your feet. This time your heart jumps for a different reason, and you swallow thickly.

“Bucky?!” You call out, hopeful and already moving quickly through the entryway.

“Living room!” His voice calls back, and you can’t help but smile widely as you step out of the hallway and spy the top of his head over the half wall that divided the kitchen and living space.

He’s sat on the floor, for some reason, between the couch and the TV, and at first you don’t think to question him, only freezing again when you move further into the home, and the whole scene is revealed to you fully.

“Hey baby,” Bucky beams at you, still in his uniform. You stare at him, mouth slightly ajar as you attempt to process what you were seeing.

“This is George.” He tells you, nodding down at the space between his crossed legs, where a seemingly very excited pitbull puppy struggles against Bucky’s arm to try and get to you. You blink at the dog, and then at Bucky, whose eyes have turned back to the dog as he softly calms him.

“Come and say hello before he wears a hole in me.” Bucky chortles, and you finally snap out of your surprise enough to inch closer to the pair, eventually kneeling down in front of them, and holding your hand out for the puppy to sniff.

“Hi George…!” You greet, unable to hold back a smile as the puppy immediately begins sniffing and licking your hand. You chuckle as you settle more comfortably on your knees, and lift both hands to give the dog some ear scratches.

“Why do you have a dog, Buck…?” You ask, laughter rolling over your words as the man releases his hold on the pup and lets him bound into your lap, where he promptly tries to climb you to lick your face.

“Woah now, Georgie, that’s my job…” Bucky teases, gently pulling the dog back just a little.

“He’s so happy!” You exclaim, shifting again so that you mirrored Bucky’s crossed-legs, and allowing George to settle between them, calming some as you pet behind his ears again.

“That’s just ‘cause I was tellin’ him all about you on the way home.” Bucky grins, leaning forward enough to press a brief kiss to your forehead in proper greeting. You shake your head and focus back on the puppy, running your finger from the tip of his nose to the top of his head.

“You gonna answer my question?” You prompt, and Bucky eyes you with a shrug.

“Saw a box of them on the street as Sam and I were getting ready to leave. He was the only one left.” He tells you with a little frown, watching George as the pup play with his hand. You get the feeling his story is heavily censored, if not wholly untrue, but you don’t ask.

You don’t want to know.

“So… you decided all of a sudden you were going to get a dog?” You prompt again, and his frown disappears as he fixes his gaze back on you.

“No, I decided to get a second.” He grins, only clarifying when you frown in confusion.

“… A second in command, I mean. Not a second dog.”

You still stare at him confused, though only a little less than before. It’s then that Bucky reaches out, scooping George up in his arms and holding him up to his chest like a baby.

“George is gonna keep you safe when I’m away,” Bucky explains, making your heart skip a beat.

“We’re gonna train him up real good, make sure he gets big and strong,” He looks up from the puppy then, and at you, his eyes softening.

“And maybe we can avoid more sleepless nights…”

You struggle to stop your lip from trembling at the sheer thoughtfulness of it all, but settle for shooting Bucky a watery smile before you lean in to brush your hand over George’s head lovingly.

“Thank you.” You say, leaning even further to press your lips to Bucky’s cheek. He smiles softly back at you as you pull away, and begin fussing with the puppy again.

“Why ‘George’?” You ask a small while later, finishing up a list you’d made of puppy things you had to buy, all the while Bucky played with your new little friend. He’d donated an old glove to the toy fund already, and you watch as the pair play a gentle game of tug-of-war.

“When I was a kid there was this local boxer, the best in Brooklyn, I reckon,” Bucky begins, but doesn’t look up from his game.

“They used to call him ‘The Pitbull’, but his real name was George.” He shrugs then, and throws you a small smile.

“Just thought it suited.”

---

The morning breeze whips against your cheeks, the tip of your nose bearing the brunt as well. It had been a while since you’d not only been awake so early, but ready and willing to leave the house too.

You had a good reason though, a reason you follow closely with your eyes as he darts across the dewy-wet grass, kicking up flecks of dirt as he goes, and you remind yourself you’ll need to give his feet a wipe down before you let him back into the apartment. The pitbull pup had filled out over the past three months, though he’d still get bigger the vet had told you. His grey-black coat had turned more grey than black, and his floppy little ears had become a little less floppy as he’d grown into them.

You grin as you watch Bucky play with him, running back and forth across a small area of the dog park, a large rope toy in his hand. Every so often he stops to let Georgie catch up to him, wrestling the toy from him, and then the chase swaps.

It was so nice to see Bucky completely and unabashedly carefree. Even before Georgie came along, as you’d settled into your relationship, you’d still catch him with a sad look on his face every so often. You would both speak candidly about your pasts, and no matter how your relationship had developed, neither of you would ever be able to change what had happened.

You still wondered if being with Bucky was the right thing. Choice or not, the universe had already dictated his soulmate, and someday that fact would rear its head again. You mostly tried to ignore it, to relish in what you had while you had it, but there was a part of you that knew deep down, it wasn’t forever.

“Brave choice,” A voice speaks up from nearby you, and you turn to find a woman around your age, her own dog sat patiently by her feet. She tosses a brightly coloured ball, and the dog takes off after it.

“Excuse me?” you ask, and the woman focuses back on you. She nods in the direction of Georgie and Bucky, with a not-unfriendly smile.

“A pitbull. It’s a brave choice you know. Lotta work.”

You can tell she wasn’t trying to be rude or condescending, but her opinions rub you the wrong way despite that.

“Not really,” you reply with a tight smile and a shrug.

“Just like any dog. You have to put in the work to get the results.”

“But Pitbulls are naturally more dangerous. That’s just a fact.” The woman’s dog returns to her, dropping the ball which she then tosses again.

“I disagree,” you try to refrain from displaying your own ‘natural’ danger, but your voice still holds a sharpness.

“It’s their environment that determines that.”

The woman hums in a decidedly condescending way.

You’re glad that she decides to run after her dog a fews seconds later, ending the short, but annoying conversation.

You look back at your two boys, your stomach churning, though you aren’t really sure why. Newly being a pitbull owner, you’d seen and heard plenty of shitty opinions online and in person during your research and finding a puppy-preschool course. None of these had really bothered you that much before, you’d usually just dismiss the arguments. Now though, you feel properly upset in a way that makes your hands shake, your coffee wobbling precariously in the cup you hold.

You aren’t even aware that you’re frowning deeply until Bucky pauses, sitting on the grass with Georgie draped over his legs, both seemingly out of breath. He looks around before he spots you, his smile dropping a few seconds later when he spies your sour expression. You look away briefly, trying to rid it from your features, but it’s too late.

Bucky scoops Georgie up, the puppy happy to be held, and collects the rope toy before he begins making his way back to you, concern creasing his brow. You greet you dog first when he’s close, cupping his face and scratching behind his ears, but it’s only a thinly veiled tactic not to look at your boyfriend. It fails anyway, as he sweeps down to peck your lips chastly.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, kneeling down to place Georgie back on the ground, and connecting his lead back to his collar again.

“Nothing,” you lie, receiving a frown in response.

“Really, it’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.” you brush it off more convincingly this time, and tuck yourself into Bucky’s side as you begin walking. He seems to accept this with a flat hum, but wraps his free arm around your back and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

You walk home sharing quiet conversation, and Bucky seemingly forgets about your glare and change in mood at the park, but you don’t.

It stays with you over the next couple of days, an unsettling and building upset. You aren’t sure if it makes you angry, or sad, or guilty even. It just makes you feel bad, and every time your mind is brought back to it, the weight of the emotions hit you heavily.

You’re standing at your stove, stirring the pasta sauce for dinner when it happens again. Bucky had gone to clean up some time ago, but last you’d checked he’d been lounging on your bed, Georgie cuddled up with him.

It was wrong for people to assume off the bat that your beautiful little puppy was somehow inherently worse, more aggressive or dangerous than other dogs. He’d never hurt a fly, and as long as he was brought up well and lived in a loving household, there was no reason that would suddenly change.

Pitbulls who were abused, or existed in places where aggression was rewarded and therefore exhibiting dangerous behaviours were made that way by human involvement, not by nature. Even then, the amount of stories of rehabilitated rescue pitbulls were more than abundant!

It hits you then, like a sack of bricks.

Bucky was the pitbull.

Not literally, of course, the woman had been explicitly referring to your dog, but internally, your anger and sadness and guilt had been about something else entirely.

It makes you feel even worse all of a sudden, because it wasn’t as if you hadn’t known this. You knew Bucky’s prior life and behaviour was entirely not of his own choosing, you know that HYDRA had forged him into what he’d been, and that with his freedom he’d chosen to change, to do and be better. To make amends.

You knew this, so why did this stupid anaology hit you so differently?

Your initial reaction to Bucky showing up again in your life wasn’t unfounded, you know you shouldn’t feel guilty about that. So where did the guilt come from? Was it only because now you knew him? Because of how things had changed and what you’d become to one another?

No, you realise, again rather suddenly, a second sack of bricks.

With Georgie around now, you got to see Bucky interacting with somebody else he adored, and the differences were stark. With Georgie, he wasn’t hesitance, there was no sense of cautiousness or reproach, but with you, there was.

Bucky was always so careful with you, always soft and gentle and aware. As if he himself wasn’t entirely sure you weren’t afraid.

You swallow thickly and shakily move to turn off the stove.

He almost never touched you with his left hand, if he could help it. The physicality between the two of you only extended to the occasional kiss and the closeness you’d share when you slept most nights. He never pressed beyond that, and while that was fine with you, you see it now in a different light. You don’t want to be in a relationship where one of you always felt like you were penitent.

You wonder if he thinks he doesn’t deserve more.

Slowly your feet carry you towards your bedroom, where you stop in the doorway to take in your view.

Bucky lay against your pillows, one arm tucked behind his head, and the other resting gently on Georgie’s, softly petting. The pup perks when he hears you though, sitting up and drawing Bucky’s attention too, before he gets up altogether and darts towards you.

“Probably thinks it’s dinner time.” Bucky remarks, and you shoot him a small smile, nodding.

“I’ll do it.” You tell him quietly. You quickly go about feeding your puppy, deciding it would be better to have him aside for the time being.

When you return, Bucky is sat up more, his phone in his hand, but he shuts it off and sets it aside when you enter the room. You aren’t sure how to say what you want to say, or even if Bucky would be honest in hearing it.

You don’t say anything as you join him on your bed, quickly curling up into his side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, and you realise he hadn’t forgotten about the day at the dog park. You draw yourself even closer, hiding your face in his shoulder as he shuffles so that he can wrap you up with both arms.

“You still feel guilty,” You murmur, unsure of if that will even make sense, but you don’t know how else to order your thoughts. Bucky pauses, and in your mind you can picture his brow furrowing and his lips turning down in the corners.

“Of course I do,” he says then, and you’re both a little surprised and relieved that you don’t have to explain yourself further.

Lifting your head, you find him staring up at the ceiling, though his eyes turn to you when you raise a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you.

“I really don’t want you to,” you tell him, earning you a small smile.

“I don’t think it works like that,” Bucky says, shifting again so that he can face you better.

“It does a little bit… if you think I’m still…” You fetter off, unsure of the word.

“Afraid?” Bucky supplies, and his choice of word confirms your suspicions.

“Buck… if I were even a little bit afraid, you wouldn’t be here right now,” You tell him firmly, needing him to hear you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come back to my home, or invited you inside. Trust me.”

His eyes dart away from yours, and he purses his lips.

“I don’t ever want to hurt you again,” Bucky’s voice is quiet, and you’re glad at least that he was engaging with you.

“I get it,” you tell him.

“But this isn’t going to work if you can’t trust me when I tell you something… and vice versa.”

His eyes snap to yours, and his frown deepens. You see a flash of worry in his eyes.

“If you’re always feeling like you’re walking on glass or that you need to tread carefully, that’s not really respecting my decision to be with you,” you say slowly. Bucky’s frown deepens again, and he swallows, but he nods hesitantly.

“I– I’m not saying that either of us can just forget– but at some point we have to forgive, right?”

Bucky stares at you for a moment, but slowly you see his frown lessen, and he nods again.

“I–” he cuts himself off and clears his throat.

“I never thought about it like that. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head.

“It’s okay. I understand… but Buck, you don’t have to make amends with me anymore,”

Bucky blinks, his face morphing into confusion.

“The past ten years I spent thinking I was gonna die alone, at least now I’ve got a fifty-fifty either way,” you play it off as a joke, and Bucky chortles, but he sobers quickly too, frown reappearing briefly as he cups your cheek.

“That’s a hard thing for me to come to terms with, honey… I don’t know if I’ll ever feel as though I can make up for everything. Not in a way that feels like it’s enough.” His thumb swipes gently back and forth over your cheek, and truly, you haven’t felt so safe or cherished in your entire life.

“Just start thinking about it. If it’s something you’ve never considered before, of course it’s hard to come to terms with.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips, intending to be chaste, but his hand at your cheek holds you there, and even now your heart flutters. He kisses you no more passionately than usual, but there’s a depth to it now that makes it feel brand new. It fetters off sweetly into shorter kisses, until he pecks you once more finally on the lips, before tugging you closer and kissing the top of your head.

“You may also need to come to terms with the fact I burnt dinner…” you scrunch up your nose as you admit the failure sitting on the stove, and Bucky’s whole body shakes as he laughs. He kisses your head again before his arms tighten around you.

“That ones a little bit easier, honey.”

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes/you

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