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soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 51: Back To The Start

Summary: Now that you're back on base there's some adjustments that have to be made in order to make things as painless as possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,471 words

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, angst, emotions, flashbacks, PTSD, angst, military inaccuracies, weapons, angst, language, some rehashing of previous chapters events

A/N: So this went in a different direction than I planned but we'll get there soon enough. This story is going to be 392040 chapters long atp

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“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“We didn’t have any choice.”

“There were ways to do this that could have avoided bringing her here.”

John stares hard at Simon, into the gap in his mask where his eyes stick out. He had donned the mask before they left the cottage, reverting back to old habits. He knows why Simon does it, why Simon insists on keeping himself hidden from those outside his pack.

He would have preferred to have this conversation in his office, away from where you might overhear, but the alpha had been on him as soon as they were away from the rec room.

“Like what?” He asks, crossing his arms.

“We could have gotten an apartment.”

“She couldn’t be left there by herself. That would be too dangerous.” John counters.

“We could have taken her to one of our families. Let her stay with them.” Simon says.

“I don’t know how long this will take. It’s not fair for us to burden them with taking care of our omega.”

Simon stares at John for a long moment. “You’re afraid of separation.”

John swallows thickly. Of course Simon would be able to read him so easily. “The last time I left her I nearly lost her. I’m not willing to risk that happening again.”

“So you’ll keep her here where she’s unhappy?” Simon gives him a look. “What are we going to do when we have to train or run drills? We don’t have anyone to lean on this time. We can’t leave her in here alone.”

“One of us will stay here with her, or we’ll bring her with us. We’ve done it before.” John hates to admit that Simon is right, but there’s no other option. “It’s only for a few weeks. This is the best option and we’ll do our best to make this as painless as possible.”

Simon stands up straighter, getting close to him. “It’s going to be painful for her no matter what. She’s not like us, John. She can’t just forget.”

Simon brushes past him, heading down the hallway before turning left towards the rooms. John hates that Simon is so right, but he’s brought up good points. They don’t have Dr. Keller to lean on this time. He knows if he called she’d come back without hesitation, but he won’t. She’s moved on to her new life and she deserves to live it. He can’t leave you here alone again, not after what happened the last time he did that. He’s worried, but he knows there really is no other option for them. They have to do this, have to make it through the next few weeks and hope his paperwork gets processed sooner rather than later.

The couch is just as uncomfortable as you remember. It never was comfortable, but it was what you had available. Now, after seeing what you could have, it’s almost unbearable. You miss the soft couches, the soft light, the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. You miss the soft colors and the warmth, the freedom that the cottage presented.

Now you’re trapped back in a prison, a prison of nightmares. It’s not just unwelcoming, it’s depressing and full of horrible memories. Broken promises, insecurity about yourself and your pack, anxiety about every aspect of your life, fear that something might happen to you or your pack, terror from the threat on your life. So much heartbreak has happened here that being back in it feels as if your heart is breaking all over again.

“I know it’s hard.” Kyle says softly. Your head is pillowed in his lap, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. There’s a blanket tossed over you, one Johnny had dug out of the boxes currently stacked in the hallway.

They’d abandoned unpacking and moving boxes as soon as your panic attack happened. If you weren’t so upset still, you’d almost find it endearing. How much they’ve changed from the cold, battle-hardened soldiers you met over a year ago.

Johnny is cleaning the rec room, keeping his hands busy after affirming you were going to be okay. Were you really? Debatable, but you knew he needed to do something. The barracks haven’t been cleaned in months and there’s quite the build up of dust across every surface. There’s a stale smell as well, not musty but like air that’s been stagnant too long. No one’s been inside to disturb it, to bring it back to life until now.

John and Simon went away to argue. You know that’s what happened as soon as Simon got you settled on the couch with Kyle. You wish John were in here now, comforting you, but you know they’re having a discussion leader to leader, alpha to alpha. What do we do? What can we do?

Nothing.

You can do nothing.

You’re stuck here in your nightmare until John’s retirement paperwork gets processed. That could take weeks. You’ll be stuck here in hell for weeks, forced back into old routines in a place you’ve always hated. Now you have even more reason to hate it.

Quiet footsteps approach the couch. Even after months they’ve never lost that ability. Always light on their feet, always agile and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. You’d never see it coming. You’re lucky McKinney had been far less skilled.

The thought of him sends a shiver down your spine, your leg aching where that scar is. You’ve tried not to stare at it, blanking your mind every time your fingers grazed over it in the shower. You wear a mark now like them. They all have those scars revealing close calls. Now you’ve had your own.

John sits down on the coffee table facing you. He leans his elbows on his knees, reaching out a hand to cup your face. His thumb is rough as it strokes your cheek, running over dried tear tracks. You managed to stop crying. That’s saying something.

“How are you?” He asks, his voice soft.

You almost scoff. “You want me to answer that?” You murmur.

“I know.” He breathes. “I should have thought about that before you came in.”

Yeah, you should have, you think. You wouldn’t dare say that out loud.

“We’ll get the door fixed and keep it closed.” He says. “You won’t have to go in there unless you want to.

I won’t want to. You’d be happy to never set foot in that room again.

“You won’t have to stay here alone, either. You’ll come with us if none of us can stay here with you.” He says, pulling his hand back. “We’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”

It’s never going to be painless. Every moment spent here will be misery.

He stares at you for a long moment. You stare back, Kyle’s hand still in your hair, gently rubbing your scalp. There was a time you could have slept like this, but now you can’t relax. Your body is stressed, adrenaline high as fight and flight battle in your brain. You can’t do either, instead stuck in the limbo of freezing. You should feel safe, comforted by his words, his promises...but this is the place of broken promises.

“Now,” He says, putting his hands back on his knees. “We need to go check in, then we’ll get some dinner.” He gives you a weak smile. “Take a minute and breathe. Then we’ll go.”

He pushes himself up to stand, leaving the rec room. Johnny follows, but not before casting a glance your way.

Kyle pulls his hand away, resting it on your arm. “Come on,” He squeezes your arm gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re numb as you push yourself off the couch, your legs shaking just a bit from the drop in adrenaline and the nerves still coursing through you. You’re not sure which is worse, being trapped in the barracks or having to leave and face down the rest of the base.

Kyle takes your hand, leading you into the bathroom across the hall. He wets some towels with cold water before gently pressing them against your face. “I know,” He says, moving from one cheek to the other. “I’ll be glad once my paperwork’s in and approved. Won’t miss this place.”

His words don’t do much to quell the twisting in your stomach. “What about Johnny and Simon?” you ask quietly.

“They’ll stay here.” He says, pressing the paper towel against your forehead. “Simon will take over as leader of the team. He might work with Laswell to find new members, or it’ll stay just the two of them.”

“They’ll still get to see us, right?” You ask.

“Of course.” Kyle smiles, gently cradling the back of your head to press the towel over your eyes. “They’ll get to go on leave just like everyone else.”

He dabs at your face, the cool water helping calm your shaking body just a little. You can’t wait for the next few weeks to be over with, when you can leave this place in the dust and never have to return. You love Simon and Johnny but you wouldn’t come back here if your life depended on it. Even if it means going months without seeing them.

Kyle moves the towel to the back of your neck, his thumbs stroking your jaw as he holds it there. There’s a soft smile on his face as he stares down at you. “You’ll be alright. We’ll make sure of that.”

You wish you could believe him.

As much as you the to admit it, the cold water has helped a bit, grounding you out of your state of panic and nervousness slightly. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Kyle’s waist. He tosses the paper towel towards the trash can where it lands with a wet plop. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

A moment of silence passes before you speak. “You missed that, didn’t you?”

He’s silent for a second. “...No…”

A small smile pulls at your lips as you hold him.

You wish you could say being outside the barracks was better than being in them, but that would be a lie. The nerves are back as the five of you walk towards the main building on base, the one in the center of everything. The last time you were there, you met General Shepherd for the first time, when the cameras were put up in your room. That idiotic moment when you left the barracks with a stranger.

Even now walking with your pack, you feel that nervous edge that had been there the first time. You’re in the middle of them, John leading the way, Kyle and Johnny on either side of you, and Simon picking up the rear. You remember all those times walking back and forth exactly like this. They only did it here, not when you went to town while you were at the cottage. Maybe because they knew you were more in danger here than out in the real world. These are well trained soldiers too, not easily intimidated like the average civilian.

It’s cool inside the building. Apparently no one on base has heard of heating. Not that it was really cold enough outside for it, but you’re beginning to crash from your heightened emotions and your body feels cold and shaky.

John guides you to a chair near the front, easing you down into it. His hand stays on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.” His fingers slide to your chin, lifting your face so you’re staring up at him. “You know what to do if someone approaches you.”

You nod. Whether or not you could actually do it is debatable. John stares down at you for a long moment before releasing you, turning his back to guide the rest of the pack away. You watch them go until they disappear behind a door, your nerves starting to pick up. There’s hardly anyone in the building aside from the stray soldier walking by. They give you hardly more than the occasional glance in passing. You doubt they’ve forgotten who you are in the months you’ve been away. Those orders still stand. They’re to leave you alone no matter what.

Time seems to crawl by, your legs starting to shake nervously as you wait for their return. John said it wouldn’t take long, but the minutes are starting to feel like hours. Time seems to pass differently here, slower than it did at the cottage. There’s more to be aware of here. You can’t relax in safety and security like you did there. Even when the threat of Shepherd was still looming over your heads there was still a sense of security at the cottage. You were far from anyone and everyone, free to do what you wanted.

Now you’re going to have to stick to a tight schedule, surrounded by the constant need for hypervigilance lest you face the threat of a cocksure alpha brave enough to approach you, even with your pack around.

That would always be a threat to you as an omega, but here it seems extra prevalent. Here there are rules, here there are expectations. They know better, but that hasn’t stopped them.

You let out a breath of air as your pack walks back through the door, heading towards you.

“Aright?” John asks, his hand on your back as you stand.

You nod. Are you really? Debatable, but nothing happened while they were gone so you have to say yes.

“Let’s get some dinner then we can work on unpacking.” He says, glancing at the rest of your pack before taking your hand.

You walk with him, the others following as you make your way towards the mess. It’s late enough it’s going to be full. You didn’t miss the mess. You didn’t miss having to eat in front of others at set times. The guys liked to keep a schedule, but it was your schedule at your own times. Now it’s entirely dictated by someone else.

You can’t wait to finally be free again.

John keeps his hand on your back as you enter the mess, eyes turning to you. They’re all staring, all glancing your way as you make your way to the line. They’re all wondering why you were gone for months, why you came back. They want to know but they never will. They’ll wonder again in a few months when you and John and then eventually Kyle drive away and never return, when it’s just Simon and Johnny showing up. You wonder if any of them will be the ones chosen to join the task force, which of them Simon would choose, if any.

You do wonder if he’ll choose anyone. It would be different, since they wouldn’t be part of your pack. You know Simon would never allow anyone else to join. It’s the five of you and that’s it. You have your dynamics, your balance settled. Anyone else runs the risk of disrupting it, turning it on its head.

Most of all, you know they wouldn’t be allowed near you.

John fills your tray for you, not forgetting his duties even back in this setting. At the cottage he made your plate, here he fills your tray with what he knows you might eat of the offerings tonight. It all looks so bland, so...beige. Formless slop with a side of mushy peas.

The five of you find a table near the back of the room, thankfully away from most of the prying eyes. You sit between Kyle and John, Simon and Johnny facing you. It’s like riding a bicycle, back to the automatic patterns even months spent away couldn’t break.

You stare down at the unappetizing meal on your tray, your mind already back to home cooked food, even if they were only okay at cooking. It was still infinitely better than this sad excuse for a dinner that you just know it’s going to be bland as hell.

They have no problems diving in. They’ve been eating this food for years, no doubt only thinking of nourishment and not what they’ve left behind.

You’re fighting tears as you attempt to cut what you think is chicken. It’s slightly tough, overcooked most likely. It doesn’t taste any better than how it looks, seasoned with hopes and dreams of what might have been good chicken. You wish you could go in there and cook your own dinner for your pack, give them the food they deserve to eat.

You pick at your food, eating and chewing slowly as you try not to think about it. You lived on this food for months, you even enjoyed eating it sometimes. You can do that again, slip back into that headspace where you had to do things, where you had no choice. You have no choice now?

“Everything okay?” John asks, glancing down at your still full tray.

“Yeah, just...not hungry.” You say. You’re starving, but you’re too busy grieving food with flavor and defined edges.

You should eat. There’s no snacks to go back to. They’re all probably expired and stale after months of sitting. Besides. Most of them are probably in your room anyway. The last place you want to go is in there, even out of desperation for some kind of good food.

“At least eat your peas.” John says, nodding to the mush of green in one of the sections of the tray. They don’t look in the least bit appetizing.

Tears gather in your eyes again as you acquiesce despite your reservations, spooning a bit into your mouth. They’re just as mushy and bland as they look, and you don’t waste much time chewing.

They’re all watching you as you eat, their own trays mostly clear. You feel a bit like a child forced to eat your vegetables before you leave the table. Shame burns hot in you and you quickly finish off your peas before downing the rest of your water.

“Good girl.” John says, patting your back before taking your tray. Your stomach is churning, and you feel a bit like you’re about to be sick, but you hold it down. This is the last place you want to cause a scene...another scene. You’ve already done that once.

You won’t be doing it again.

You cough a little as more dust flies up into the air. There’s a thick layer of it over everything and it’s currently being kicked up into the air by John’s dusting. You’re seated on his bed on a blanket, the sheets stripped to be washed. All of the washers are going right now, one for each of them filled with blankets, sheets, and clothes. Tomorrow they have to go back to wearing their uniforms again. You’ll miss the look of Simon’s ass in jeans.

There’s a bear in your arms, squeezed tight against your chest as you watch him clean his bookshelf. You’re trying to silence the quiet gurgling of your stomach. Whether it’s hunger or your body’s protest to the mushy peas you’re not quite sure.

“You doing alright?” John asks, deeply focused on cleaning the shelf he’s working on. The books are stacked next to him, each one getting a thorough wipe down.

“Yeah.” You say, rubbing some of the bear’s fur between your fingers.

“You want something to read?” He asks, glancing up at you.

You shake your head. “No, that’s alright.”

He sits back on his heel, pausing what he’s doing to stare at you. “You’re turning down a book?”

You shrug, dropping your gaze to the bear in your arms. “Just don’t feel much like reading right now.”

John hums before pushing himself up to stand. He sinks down on the bed next to you with a sigh, his arm wrapping around you to pull you against his chest. “I’m sorry you have to do this. I wish I could make it easier.”

“I hate it here.” You murmur, still holding your bear close to your chest.

“I know. I know you always have. You were here because you had to be and now that we’ve all gotten a taste of what life could be like...it’s hard to come back.” His hand rubs your arm. “Even if I hadn’t already decided to retire, I think I would have been pushed in that direction after coming back. If nothing else I’d suck it up and take a desk job and move us off base.”

His words give you pause for a moment. “Why didn’t you do that? Why fully retire?”

“It wouldn’t be the same. I’ve always been a man of action, out in the field, fighting to save the world. Better to be out completely than sitting behind a desk knowing I could have been out there myself.” He squeezes you gently. “At least if I retire I can learn to relax.”

It falls silent between the two of you for a moment, John’s scent soft and relaxed. It’s helping ease the turmoil in your mind just a bit. He’s trying hard, you know that. You know he means it when he says he’s sorry for bringing you back here. He really does feel guilty for what happened to day, for what this place means to you.

He sits up straighter, his arm dropping from around you. “I have an idea.”

He pushes himself up to stand, holding out a hand for you. You take it, frowning a bit as he pulls you up to stand next to him. He kneels down, putting the books back on the shelf before standing again. He starts to dig through the boxes, pulling out blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows before stacking them on the desk and underneath on the floor.

You take a couple steps back towards the bathroom door as he grabs the mattress, sliding it down to the floor. He shoves it up against the desk before standing. “Be right back.” He disappears out the door.

You stand there, watching the doorway as he makes his way down the hallway, calling for all of them to bring their mattresses and blankets. It’s not hard to figure out what he’s doing. You’re just not sure why.

John reappears in the doorway, a small smile on his face. Simon’s not far behind him, dragging his mattress into the room. He shoves it in next to John’s, dropping a pile of blankets on it. You didn’t even know he had so many blankets. He’s always seemed like a one rough, ratty blanket kind of man.

Kyle and Johnny appear at the same time, nearly getting stuck in the door at their excitement to add to the growing nest. It’s a nest. John’s making a nest for you.

John starts to arrange your blankets across the four mattresses squeezed onto the floor. They’ve all brought their own blankets, likely ones picked up while at the cottage or ones they washed and dried. You stand there as they arrange the pillows and blankets, trying to make a perfect nest for you. You haven’t nested in months and here they are trying to build you one instead.

Tears start to slide down your cheeks, a quiet sob leaving your lips. All four of them look up at the sound, pausing in what they’re doing.

“What is it?” Kyle asks.

“Is it wrong?” Simon asks at the same time.

You shake your head, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “It’s so sweet.” You cry, holding your bear tight against your chest.

“Aw bon, c’mere.” Johnny holds his arms out and you move forward into his hold.

The other three surround you, folding yourselves into a group hug as you cry. The action nearly makes you cry harder as you’re enveloped in their warmth and comfort. Their scents surround you, seeping into your brain and deep to where your omega has been pacing back and forth, awakened thanks to your fear and the perceived threat looming in the back of your mind.

It’s nice, being held by them, surrounded safely in their arms. You don’t think you’ve ever been held like this by them, all of them at once, securely in the middle of their protective circle. It makes you feel warm, fighting off the inevitable chill of the barracks that seeps into your very soul.

You don’t want them to let go, but you let them. You can’t stay that way forever, no matter how badly you want to. You don’t doubt they’d stand there until their legs gave out if you asked them to.

“Better?” Johnny asks, gently wiping your tears.

“Yeah.” You breathe, sniffling still. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Kyle kisses the top of your head. “You know we’d do anything for you.”

“I know.” You give him a small smile. “Even murder.”

“Just tell us who.” Simon says, looming behind you.

“Thankfully no one right now.” You say, plopping yourself down into the nest. “But I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” Simon says, staring down at you for a moment before heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“Gotta get ready for bed.” He shrugs before leaving the room.

“Right.” You say, looking down at your clothes. You should probably get ready too.

You crawl over to the boxes of clothes, popping one open before digging through it. It’s a box of John’s stuff but that’s alright. That’s what you were looking for anyway. You pull out a t-shirt for you, before moving on to another box, looking for John’s pajamas.

“What are you doing?” John asks, watching you dig through his neatly folded clothes.

“Looking for your Pj’s.” You say.

“Probably won’t need them tonight.” He says. “It’s going to get warm in here.”

You sit back on your heels. He’s right. The last time you’d all slept in the same room it had gotten unbearably hot. You shrug before pulling your shirt over your head, ditching your bra and pants before pulling John’s shirt over your head. You turn to stare up at him, his eyes hooded as he stares down at you.

“What?” You ask, wiping your face in case you’ve been wearing remnants of mushy peas that no one told you about.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, pulling his shirt off. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering. “Don’t,” You say unconvincingly. “You’re gonna distract me.”

“Good.” He smirks, undoing the button on his jeans. You watch his fingers as he pulls the zipper down before looping those fingers into the waistband and tugging.

Your eyes follow them down before trailing back up his body to his face. He’s watching you as he steps out of his pants, kicking them over towards the bathroom door. You lick your lips, staring at his face for a moment before crawling past him, grabbing your big bear from the spot on the floor at the end of his bed. You drag it over to the middle of the nest, situating it next to where you’re going to lay. Right in the middle between them all.

You situate the bear before getting up, heading to John’s bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

“Bloody hell.” You hear Simon say, no doubt about the bear. It has a smile tugging at your lips.

You try to hide that smile as you step out of the bathroom, climbing back into the nest. Simon has settled himself closest to the door, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Your mood has been steadily improving since this new development, your eyes trailing across Simon’s back as he sets his phone on John’s shelf.

Johnny and Kyle enter, both of them forgoing shirts as well. Johnny is in nothing but his boxers, Kyle a pair of shorts. They’re trying to kill you, you know it.

Distraction: successful.

You settle yourself in the middle next to your bear, slipping under one of the blankets. Kyle tosses a couple more onto the pile, still warm from the dryer. Johnny plops down on your right, between you and Simon. He wraps his arms around you, tugging you against his chest. You just barely manage to get your arms around your bear, pulling it with you.

“No fair.” Kyle pouts, settling himself on your other side.

“Shoulda been faster.” Johnny says, spooning himself up against you.

You wrap your arms around the bear, holding it close against you. Johnny’s arms stretch across your middle to wrap around the bear as well, nearly suffocating you between them.

Kyle huffs, laying on his back. “I’m starting to realize why you hate the bear so much.”

“Insulting, isn’t it?” Simon mumbles from behind Johnny.

“Give into the bear.” You say, reaching over it to blindly find Kyle’s arm. You tug him over, or at least try to. He scoots closer, letting you pull him close against the bear.

He drapes his arm across the bear and across you to rest it against Johnny’s side. The room goes dark as John turns out the lights, making sure the door is closed and locked before moving to lay on the other side of Kyle.

“Can you breathe in there?” He asks before settling down.

“Yes.” You answer, your voice muffled from the fluff of the bear.

“Get some rest.” He says to everyone, his phone thunking as he sets it on the desk. “Early morning tomorrow.”

Kyle and Johnny grumble, no doubt dreading what tomorrow is going to bring after being spoiled for months. There will be no sleeping in, no lazing around, no more slow mornings. Now it’s only rise and grind, something you’ll have to get used to as well. You don’t want to be left alone here, no matter how badly you want to sleep in. If getting up early means getting out of the barracks sooner, you’ll take it.

You lay there, listening to their breathing even out. You’re jealous of their ability to sleep anywhere at any time. A learned skill in the field, you know. They never know when they’re going to get the chance to rest, so you have to be able to drop off at any time. You’re not so lucky.

It’s quiet in the barracks, too quiet. You can hear every breath, every small creak of the building as it settles. The door is locked and you have four very well trained soldiers surrounding you, but still you can’t shake that paranoid thought. What if someone gets in? What if someone comes back for revenge? What better time to strike than at night when you’re at your most vulnerable? It was dangerous coming back here.

You won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

It’s still dark out when his alarm goes off. He’s wide awake as soon as the sound starts, his hand reaching behind him to grab his phone and quickly silence it. It’s enough to rouse the others, quiet groans of displeasure reaching his ears.

Simon lets out a breath, wrapping his arms around the soft body against his chest for a moment. A soft body. Too soft.

He turns on his phone screen, glancing down.

He’s snuggling the bear.

He lets out a scoff, shoving it down off the end of his mattress.

4:30 his phone screen tells him. He’s been getting up early since the arrival at the cottage, unable to retrain his natural clock. Only, instead of getting up most days he just laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, pondering his life choices, thinking about what was going to happen next in his life, worrying about who might come after them on Shepherd’s behalf. It was senseless to worry, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop the racing thoughts, the fears that filled him, the images in his head. Shepherd would get rid of them to cover his ass. He’d never be safe so long as the 141 was out there, just as they’d never be safe so long as Shepherd was out there. Two missiles heading right for each other where they’d inevitably meet in the middle.

Now it’s over. Now they have nothing to worry about. Shepherd is gone, the threat has been removed from over their heads. John trusted they were safe enough to return here to base. Simon wishes he could be that positive.

He pushes himself up to sit, rubbing his eyes. The others have settled again. They won’t get up for another thirty minutes, maybe an hour. He’s always the first up, always the one starting the earliest. It feels good, getting back into this routine, this predictability. He likes it. He needs it.

He casts a glance across the four sleeping bodies next to him. John had gotten up to plug in your nightlight, giving the room a soft glow. Johnny is starfished across an entire mattress, Kyle curled up next to him. Simon’s startled to see you sitting up rubbing your eyes. John is on his side next to you, arm outstretched where you had been laying.

Simon crawls over, your head lifting to look at him. “Go back to sleep.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You let out a quiet sound, half murmur, half whine as he eases you back onto your back next to John. He tosses a blanket over you before standing, stepping back over Johnny’s legs towards the door. He steps on the bear on his way, not even looking down as he unlocks the door before turning the nob.

It’s bright out in the hallway, his eyes burning as he squints. He can understand your hatred of overhead lights in moments like these. He’s more than capable of moving in the dark, but the eternal fluorescents in the hallway render that skill useless.

He quickly changes into his gym clothes, slipping on his runners before hesitating, his hand hovering over the drawer to his nightstand. It’s been weeks since he’s put on a mask. He got so used to not wearing one it almost feels strange to don the characteristic skull-print balaclava once more. He could go without one. He could choose to bear his face to the many soldiers on base for the first time, but anxiety churns in his stomach. They’ll stare, they’ll point, they’ll talk.

No, he doesn’t want that.

He opens the drawer, pulling out one of the masks from the stack of them that have been sitting for months. It’s free of dust from having been shut in the drawer but he dusts it off anyway, staring down at it for a moment. He could choose not to, but that could complicate things. He pulls it over his head, situating it in place before heading out the door. There’s still an early spring chill to the air as he makes his way across the road towards the gym, his breath visible. It’s quiet on base, not many up this early since they don’t have to be. Usually there’s only movement this early when there’s a drill being run.

Soon he’ll be the one running those drills. Well, he’ll be running Johnny through those drills. Soon it’ll be just him and Johnny against the world.

He can hardly believe it. He never thought John would retire like that, though things have changed since your arrival, he supposes. You’ve changed all of them and priorities have shifted. John did what he needed to do. He eliminated the threat against his pack and now what’s left for him? He’s seen how you reacted to being back here, they all have. It’s torture for you and Simon hates it.

He enters the gym. It’s quiet, no one up yet. Just the way he likes it. He steps into the weight room, setting his phone on a bench before he begins stretching. He tried to keep up on his fitness at the cottage. Pushups, situps, jogging when he could. He knew coming back would be hard regardless after months away being spoiled. It had been nice, despite his inability to accept that kind of life.

Sometimes he wishes he could retire that easily. When he saw your face, how happy you were when John revealed his decision...it struck something inside of him. He always knew he’d be in this life as long as he could. He’d either die in the field or be forced to retire. Most days the former seemed the most likely option. The idea of being forced behind a desk was enough to drive him crazy.

That’s why John is leaving, though. He’d never be able to survive behind a desk. Better to be out completely than forced to watch others out saving the world knowing that could have still been you. It’s going to be hard. People like them don’t make that shift to civilian life easily. He’s glad Kyle is going too. John’s going to need support that you can’t give him. You don’t know what it’s like. You won’t understand when the nightmares hit, when the itching begins beneath your skin, when your hands start seeking out the comfort of a gun between them again.

What is he going to replace it with? What is he going to do to keep his mind and his hands busy? Fishing? Farming? Maybe he’ll get a dog. A big one he can take on runs. Long runs to keep his mind clear, give him some sort of familiarity of the life he’s spend more years in than out of.

Maybe he’ll fully settle down and you’ll have pups.

The mental image of you greeting him at the door with a fat baby on your hip has him twitching in his shorts.

Fucking hell, Simon, he grunts as he racks his weights.

That would be down the road though. The first battle is getting settled, figuring out how to live in the civilian world. That’s going to take time. He almost wishes John would get a place in Hereford where Simon and Johnny could stay, but he understands. He knows John wants to get as far from this life as he can, get you as far from this life as possible. He’ll get you your little house by the sea, let you live out your domestic fantasies.

Simon’s happy for you two. He’s happy for Kyle.

That doesn’t stop the bitter taste of jealousy from rising in the back of his throat.

It’s still dark out when the next set of alarms go off. Two of them ringing loud in the air. Kyle and Johnny move almost in sync as they reach for their phones on the floor above the nest, silencing the alarms. You’ve been awake since Simon’s went off. You’ve been awake most of the night, the hours crawling by as you drifted in and out of a light sleep. You wanted to get up with Simon, go sit with him in the gym or something, but he’d forced you back into the nest, back into a sleepless hold. John stirs beside you again, his arm shifting from beneath your neck. You wonder if he’s going to get up now too. You wonder what he’s going to do with his day. Go on like normal or is he going to do only what he has to for the next few weeks?

You can’t be sure.

Johnny and Kyle both sit up rubbing their eyes. No doubt it’s rough going from sleeping in and being lazy to having to be up early and start the day right away. You’d probably be feeling the same if you could have slept. You go to sit up too but John’s arm wraps around you tighter, keeping you down with him.

“Morning, love.” Kyle rasps, leaning over to kiss your sweaty forehead. “Get more sleep.”

You wish you could.

Johnny rolls over as Kyle stands, rolling until he’s face to face with you. “Enjoy sleepin’ in while ye can.” He says quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll see ye later.”

Both of them leave, your eyes squinting against the stream of light from the hallway. Silence falls once they’re gone, John breathing evenly behind you. You want to get up, go get ready with them and head to the gym if only to sit and watch them, but John’s grip around you is firm.

“Did you sleep?” He asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“Not really.” You admit, knowing he’d probably know if you were lying.

He hums, his face pressing against the back of your head. “We’ll stay here until they get back.”

“Not going to work out?” You ask.

“I’ll do it later.” He says. “We’re running drills after breakfast. See just how out of shape we all are.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Yes.” He answers, tightening his hold around you. “Wouldn’t be fair to leave you here alone.”

“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.” You say despite your relief at his decision to bring you along with him. “I’d be fine.”

“I’m not sacrificing anything.” He says firmly. “I’m not leaving you alone. Not after what happened last time.”

“You’re scared.” You say quietly, laying there in his tight hold.

“Of course I am.” He breathes, shifting slightly behind you, almost as if you realization is uncomfortable for him. It probably is. It must take a lot for him to admit that he’s afraid. For a while, you weren’t sure he could feel fear. “I nearly lost you.”

“John?” You breathe, tears gathering in your eyes. “Would it have happened anyway?”

He pauses for a moment, just a brief second but you hear it loud and clear. “Inevitably. They would have used you no matter what. It was a fail-safe. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

“It’s not going to happen again, is it?” You ask, speaking aloud your fears even if they are irrational.

“No.” He says, his lips brushing your ear. “I won’t let it.”

“I’m scared.” You breathe, a tear sliding down your cheek.

“Don’t be.” He says, tightening his hold around you until it borders on painful. “I’m right here.”

You’re not sure how long you lay there, pinned tightly against his chest. You wish you could sleep but you’ve been awake too long. Your pulse races in your ears, muffling any sound that might indicate something is wrong, your paranoia heightened in your exhausted state. You want to believe John, but you know men like him have enemies. Perhaps you’ll never be safe, no matter how much he tries to reassure you. They all have their enemies. Sooner or later one of them has to come for you.

An hour goes by fast, your brain in turmoil as the thoughts race. John doesn’t let up, his hold around you tight. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s nothing he could say. All he does is hold you, breathing slow and even, his chest pressed against your back.

The barracks door opens and you flinch, the squeak of tennis shoes coming down the hallway. You hold your breath, preparing for the worst. You’re in front of John, you’re the one in the line of fire. You brace yourself, squeezing your eyes closed as the door handle turns.

“It’s pishing it doon out there.” Johnny says, sticking his head in the door.

He’s soaked, mohawk flat and dripping water into his eyes. That explains the squeaking shoes. No one trying to sneak in would take that risk.

“English MacTavish.” Simon’s voice floats down the hallway.

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Ye know what I mean.” He turns to look back at you two still in bed. “Dress warm.”

He closes the door, heading off to go shower most likely. John doesn’t move for a moment, still holding you tightly. No doubt he felt your flinch, sensed your fear before you realized it was Johnny. The paranoia is running rampant this morning, your mind stuck in a loop of fear.

“Come on.” John says softly, finally releasing you. He sits himself up behind you, leaning over your body. “Let’s get dressed. Go and get some food.”

You don’t want to get up. The prospect of moving your body feels daunting. Yet, you don’t want to lay here either. You push yourself up to sit too, John leaning over you to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s so soft and gentle, the opposite of the thoughts racing through your head.

He pushes himself up to stand, moving to his closet to pull out a uniform. Back to playing the soldier. He really is playing this time. In a few weeks he’ll be officially retired and the two of you will leave base never to return again. You’ll move on to some semblance of a normal life, playing at domesticity. Not long after Kyle will join you and it will be you and your pack with Simon and Johnny playing the satellite. Maybe some day they’ll take the plunge and join you.

You crawl over to the boxes, digging through to find your own clothes. You wonder if he’ll bother unpacking anything from these boxes. Or if he’ll just leave them so they’re easier to grab once the two of you do leave.

John goes into the bathroom while you decide what to wear. Sweatpants or jeans. T-shirt or long sleeves. Johnny said to dress warm so you decide on a t-shirt and a sweatshirt with jeans. Hard clothes meant for a military base. No more lounging around in the barracks all day. You’ll be out there with them, watching them run drills for the first time in months.

You quickly change, stepping into the bathroom after John is done. You’re quick, not wasting any time. The more you dally, the more time your brain has to focus on the fear swirling in the back of your mind.

John is waiting for you when you exit the bathroom. He’s close to the door, crowding you as you step out into the room. Your eyes trace his form from his feet to his face. He grips your chin, holding you still as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes minty, like toothpaste, his lips soft against yours.

“What are you doing?” You murmur when he pulls away.

“Trying to distract you.” He breathes.

“Do it again.” You say.

He kisses you again, this one harder as his hand slips from your chin to your throat. You hate to admit that it’s working, the swirling emotions in the back of your brain quieting as you kiss your alpha.

He pulls away too soon, your lips parted and eyes still closed as he releases you. “Better?” He asks.

You nod. You do feel a bit better. Your thoughts aren’t quite so loud now.

“Come on.” His hand slips into yours, squeezing it gently as your eyes finally open.

It’s time.

He leads you out the door, pausing to put his boots on once he’s over the nest. It stays where it is, messy and rumpled. None of them bother making the beds and you wonder if it’s driving them crazy. No doubt that need to make sure their bed is made carried with them to the cottage. You hardly ever bother as you usually wind up back in it at some point in the day. You wonder how crazy you drive them with that habit, or lack there of.

You walk with John at the head of the column as you step out into the rain. It is raining hard, and you’re glad you went with something with a hood. You should have dug out the rain jacket John got you at the cottage. That probably would have been smarter.

You’re cold and wet when you make it to the mess. It’s early enough it’s sparsely populated. You wonder if John did that on purpose, or if it’s just coincidence. You hold onto his hand until you reach the front of the line, letting him fill your tray for you with plastic looking eggs and far too watery porridge. Once again you’re reminded of how much you were spoiled at the cottage and how far you’ve fallen into the world of bland, tasteless food.

Or, as you would call it, British food.

John graciously chooses a table near the back, keeping you out of sight for the most part, away from prying eyes. You sit between him and Kyle again, staring down at your depressing looking tray of food. The only thing that looks good is the fruit, so you focus there first. They go down the easiest, filling your desperate stomach. You haven’t eaten a good meal since you all stopped to get food on your drive back to Hereford. You underestimated how much you’d struggle adapting to mess hall food again.

Granted, the last time you were coming from the CIA and their cafeteria food, and before that the institute. You can’t remember how long it’s been since you had a home cooked meal before the cottage. Maybe that’s why you were struggling so much.

How you wish you could go into the kitchen and make your mother’s enchiladas.

You struggle your way through breakfast, using the fruit to get you through the porridge. You leave most of the eggs, unable to stomach more than a few bites. Of course the rest of your pack clears their trays. This food must be heaven compared to stuff they eat while they’re away on missions.

It’s mostly stopped raining by the time you leave the mess hall, now just a drizzle. You’re clinging to Kyle’s hand, letting him lead you after John as he heads across the base towards one of the hangars. Time for training, you assume.

You recognize this one. You’ve been here before months ago. It was one of the first times you got to see their training. Hell, you yourself had participated in it once. You wonder if John will do that again, or if he’ll take pity on you and let you just watch.

“We’re going back to basics today, lads.” John says as the boys line up. “Testing where you’re at after months away. You’ll be timed on how long it takes you to get through the course as usual. Stay sharp and watch those corners. Who’s going first?”

“I will.” Johnny says, not even hesitating.

“Good luck Sergeant.” John says before turning to you. “Come on.”

He leads you up into the viewing area where the screens are located. You’ve been up here before a couple of times.

“Don’t want you catching a stray bullet.” He says.

You give him a sideways glance. The last time you were here they hadn’t used live rounds.

“Rubber bullets still hurt.” He says, giving you a grin.

You shake your head, watching as Johnny prepares himself to run the course.

Their times aren’t quite as good this time around. Even Kyle is dragging a bit, not quite as sharp as you remember him being. Granted it has been months. They’re all rusty and out of shape. You’re going to miss them being all soft and gentle. Even John will lose some of it before retirement, you think. The yo-yoing of his body is going to be hard on him. Strong and fit to soft and gentle to partially strong and fit again to permanently soft. You doubt he’ll give up everything completely. Morning runs, weight lifting, keeping himself sharp. He’ll never fully relax. He can’t.

“Not bad, muppets.” John says, standing in front of them. You hoist yourself up onto a crate. “But not good either. That’s to be expected after months of going soft. We’re going to focus on re-polishing those skills again. Building stamina and strength, sharpening those weapons skills again.” John stands up straighter. “Let’s hit the range next.”

He turns to you, holding out a hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”

You hop down off the crate, taking his hand. You’ve never been to the shooting range here. John always tried to keep you away from live fire as much as possible, god forbid there be some freak accident.

At least now you know what it feels like to be shot.

You have to accompany them now though, in fear of being left in the barracks all day. This is still far better than being cooped up in a place full of nightmares.

The range is in another hanger, and unfortunately not empty. It’s loud inside, two other soldiers inside firing at targets. You put your hands over your ears as you follow John towards the far side of the range. He grabs a headset, slipping it over your head. It offers just enough protection from the loud banging of the guns being fired. The sound in the enclosed space is enough to drive your adrenaline up. You can only imagine what it’s like with hundreds of guns going off all at once while half of those are shooting back at you.

You’ll never understand how they manage it.

You stand back out of the way behind them as they line up. Even John lines himself up this time, all of them firing down the line at targets. You keep yourself pressed up against the wall, watching them. It’s louder with the four of them shooting, your heart hammering in your throat. You can’t help but wonder what kind of firefight there was when they rescued you, if there was much of one at all. Their skills were sharper then, their abilities honed. Going up against trained soldiers would have been a walk in the park back then.

Had you known they were coming you might have waited, might have let them have their hostage rescue instead of having to chase your wild omega through the woods in her attempt to escape herself. You can still remember bits and pieces of it, the feel of blood on your hands, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, the wild freedom to not care about anything but survival.

It makes your hands shake.

You squeeze them into fists, nails biting into your skin as they fire round after round, adjusting stances, reloading and then firing again. You can only see Simon’s target ahead, all of his shots hitting the outline of the body on the paper. You don’t think something like shooting would be a skill lost easily. Like riding a bike, you suppose.

You wonder how good it must feel to them to have a weapon in their hands again. That thought concerns you, but then again, there’s a lot about them that should concern you. You’ve gone numb to most of it, those thoughts you had early on not even in the back of your mind anymore. They are who they are, they’ve done what they’ve done and there’s no changing that. It simply comes with the territory.

“Hey,”

Your eyes dart up as a knuckle pushes your chin up. Simon is standing before you. He smells metallic like gunpowder. It meshes well with his natural scent creating an intoxicating blend.

“C’mere.” He tilts his head towards his now vacated spot. You follow him, his hands moving you into position. He slides the warm gun into your hands, clicking the safety off. “Take a shot.”

You stare down the line at the fresh target, gulping a bit. The gun feels heavy in your hands. The others have stopped, and you can tell they’ve gathered around, watching, waiting for what’s going to happen. You half expect John to stop this before it starts, but he lingers back, letting this play out.

Simon’s arms wrap around you, moving your hands into position around the gun. He lifts them up to proper height, holding you there for a moment before releasing you and taking a step back. Your finger twitches as it hovers over the trigger as you stare at the target. You take a deep breath in, holding it for a second before squeezing the trigger.

You fire three shots.

All three hit the paper of the target, missing the body but still hitting the paper. You lower the gun, clicking the safety back on before turning to face them. They’re all staring at you with faces of shock and mild amusement.

You glance at all of them before shrugging. “I used to live in Texas.”

Johnny and Kyle laugh, Simon shaking his head. “You need to work on your form.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you back around to face the target.

NEXT ->

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friskalicousbiscuits · 1 month ago

Text

Neglected Santa Clarita Diet (Zombie)!Reader x Yan!Batfam

Prologue (Here), Chapter One

Tw: Lots of vomiting, very brief, kind of subtle mention of the Reader’s death, and gore at the very end

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and at the very beginning it’s “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Prologue

It all started on the night they’d had enough.

That day, the bullying at school had been worse. They’d been crueler, meaner, harsher, and made sure you got to experience every bit of that. The Reader’s single friend at school was also absent that day because family matters or something. They weren’t exactly listening.

On the bright side, said friend offered to get dinner together later so that was good. Just the thought of that got them through the day. They were truly one of the only people you felt you could rely on.

You both decided on going to a seafood place. The night was nice, you weren’t almost mugged, the two of you chatted and goofed off around each other. They ordered fish, they let you try some. You ordered Ruby's Devil-Red Clams, the special of the night, because you decided that if you were going to be bold at anything, it might as well be your food choices. You didn’t offer any to your friend because you knew they didn’t like clams. Overall, it was great, aside from the fact your stomach was a little upset. You bid your friend goodbye and went your separate ways, promising to meet up at school tomorrow.

By the time you got back home to the manor, it would never be home to you, your stomach was feeling worse. It actually hurt. You stumbled through the manor, trying your best to be quiet, almost knocking over a vase. You were queasy and dizzy. A not so good combo. Thankfully though, you somehow made it to the general vicinity of your room, and just to be safe, you veered off to the bathroom next to it and sat on the toilet to try and calm yourself down. It didn’t work though. You just grew more nauseous.

After a bit, you decided to get down on your knees over the toilet because you were pretty sure any moment now you were going to vomit. Sure enough, you did.

But uh… it didn’t stop.

It just kept coming.

It kept coming until your throat was raw. It kept coming until your eyes were watery. It kept coming even as the toilet couldn’t hold anymore It kept coming even as your hand slipped from the ceramic rim and you nearly banged your head on the cabinet next to your head. It was all over the bathroom’s tiled floors, on the walls, staining the wooden cabinets, etcetera.

It kept coming until you passed out.

“[Name]!”

A light turned on before you felt something pat your cheek a couple times.

You felt… gritty. Thats the easiest way to put it. The backs of your fingers on rested on what you were half sure was tile. They were surrounded by some type of mush. Dried mush. You could also feel said dried mush on your cheeks and chin. It was definitely crusted into your shirt and staining your pants as well.

The person who said your name, it sounded like Jill, your one and only dearest friend, spoke up again.

“[Name]! [Name], please wake up! Don’t tell you’re dead!” Jill sounded so worried. You were about to let her know you were awake, but then she moved you until you were pretty sure she was holding you against her chest. It was so comfortable. You also felt bad that you were definitely getting the mush on her jacket. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I should’ve been here sooner. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve came to help as soon as I could.” Jill sounded like she was about to cry.

You felt something wet plop onto your cheek. It felt like a tear. Jill was definitely crying now. You opened your eyes, feeling surprisingly energized. “Are we in the bathroom still?”

“Oh, what the fuck.” Jill’s hands went to your shoulders, pushing you away as you looked around. Everything was… green. Like baby vomit green. There were some rust colored flecks in it too. “Are you okay?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah.” You mumbled, wiping your mouth. “I just vomited. A lot. And that came out of me.” You pointed to a little red, oval-shaped, prune-looking thing sitting amidst the vomit. One could also compare it to the end of a sausage, but let’s not get into the logistics.

Jill looked between you and the prune thing over and over until she finally settled on you again. “I don’t care about whatever that— thing is! [Name], you scared the life out of me! When I went to check your pulse I didn’t feel anything! I thought you were dead! We’re taking you to the hospital. Immediately.” With that, she grabbed your hands and hoisted you up. “Here, lean on me. Let’s go.”

“Oh, no I’m good.” You declined as politely as you could but still held her hands.

��[Name], look around. You’re definitely not good. Lean on me.” She gestured to the vomit all over the walls and floor.

“But I can walk just fine, see?” You made a show of walking out of the bathroom, letting go of one of Jill’s hands yet still clasping the other. Your friend looked like she didn’t know how to feel about that.

“…fine. Whatever, but you’re still going to the hospital, okay?”

“ ‘kay.” With that, Jill started pulling us along.

The two of you just almost made it out the door before you were interrupted by Damian Wayne. The Damian Wayne. The one you’d told Jill came at you with a whole katana and gave you the giant scar up the side of your left arm.

“You’re certainly filthy.” The little shit (wow, you’ve never thought of Damian like that before) remarked in that usual condescending tone of his.

“Fuck off.” Jill ground out immediately, pushing you behind her.

“Yeah, Damian! Get run over by an eighteen wheeler!” You yelled over her shoulder with a distinctful cheeriness that you probably hadn’t summoned since you were about ten years old and your mom got you an ice pop at the zoo.

That got you not one, but two looks of incredulity from both Damian and Jill. Huh. You’ve never ever said something like that to Damian before, have you? It feels really good to let those thoughts out.

She pulled you out of there before you could say anything else.

“Wow! I can’t believe I said that!” You exclaimed.

“I know.” She said, giving you a weird look before she looked forward again and kept pulling you along.

The both of you ended up waiting in the ER for nearly three hours. Jill was still holding your hand. She was also bouncing one of her legs and looking to the receptionist every now and then. She’d gone up there four separate times to ask when you were going to get checked up. You were so bored. That was when you finally remembered to ask what had been plaguing you earlier as you two had left the manor.

“Jill? What were you doing at the manor?”

“I came because you didn’t show up at school and you weren’t answering texts or calls. Alfred let me in.” She explained, very indiscreetly glaring at the receptionist lady before she looked to you.

“I wasn’t at school?” But you were? It was hard to forget how mean everyone had been. You’re definitely going to throat punch one of them the next time you see them. You should definitely do that.

“No. You weren’t. You were gone for the entire day.” Jill spoke, looking to the receptionist again, impatiently before looking back to you. She could tell you were slightly confused. After all, she was your best friend! “[Name], when exactly did you start hurling your guts out?”

“Last night?”

Jill stared for a solid minute before putting her head in her hands. “Oh my God.” She muttered.

“Jill? Are you okay?”

The girl dragged her hands down her face before looking at you with a clearly forced smile. “Yup! Great actually. It’s totally not as if there’s clearly something fucking wrong with you yet no one wants to do anything about it!” Jill’s voice raised to a yell as she pointedly looked at the receptionist lady who in response rolled her eyes.

“Okay… well, then why don’t we do something about it? Like leave? Jill, I wanna change out these clothes and take a shower. I probably look and definitely feel like a gas station bathroom.” You tried your best attempt at a serious tone as you gestured to your clothes.

“We can’t just leave. Did you see how much vomit you vomited?” She asked, exasperatedly.

“Well, yes, but, if we’re being honest? I feel wonderful! Like I could do anything! Plus, Alfred’s probably already cleaned my bathroom too so it should be safe now.” You said with a smile.

“I…” Jill trailed off. She then slumped against her chair. “Five more minutes? Please?”

You sighed. “O-kay.”

You both ended up leaving the ER before you were called. By this point, it was dark out in Gotham. Or at least darker than usual which normally meant it was nighttime now. Lovely.

Along the way, you actually got to ask more about what she meant by not showing up to school. Apparently, it turns out that you’d been out cold in the bathroom for about a day. Then Jill came to get you.

“I’m surprised Alfred hadn’t checked up on me.” You remarked, a little hurt. “Jackass.” You grumbled.

Jill gave you another weird look for some reason. “He said that when you came home from school yesterday, you looked really upset. He left you alone because of that. Then, when you didn’t go to school today, he assumed you were taking a break or something.”

“Oh. Wait, that’s actually a little thoughtful. Now I feel bad.” You mused, spying Jill’s apartment complex up ahead.

“Don’t. It just sounds like he was avoiding having to comfort you.”

They bounded up the stairs and into the building. Jill lived on the first floor, apartment 106.

“I assume you’re staying over?” Jill asked, opening the door.

“Yup! Do you think I could stay with you forever? I don’t wanna go back to that house ever again.”

“Uh… maybe? My ma likes you a lot so who knows.” Jill gave you her fifth weird look. “Speaking of her, she’s out of town for the next couple days so you could probably crash as much as you want.”

“Awesome!”

It was a couple hours later that the two of you were now on Jill’s couch, watching a movie. She was eating popcorn. You were eating chicken drumsticks. Raw. Straight from its packaging.

Those weird looks kept on coming.

Finally, after another wet squelch of a bite from the chicken, Jill paused the movie and turned to you.

“Okay, there’s something seriously wrong with you.” She looked so concerned.

“Huh—” You started choking for a bit and she smacked your back a couple times until you swallowed. You then cleared your throat. “Huh?”

“Don’t huh me. [Name] you’re literally eating raw chicken!”

“So?”

“So that’s not normal!” She moved to put the popcorn on the coffee table in front of them. “You’re also acting super weird!”

“I’m not being weird…” You grumbled, taking another bite.

“Yes, you are. Back at the house, you actually wished that little shit’s death! I’ve literally seen him talk shit at you for like five minutes straight with you doing nothing except look kicked puppy!”

“Am I at least a cute kicked puppy?” You ventured.

“Yes! But you’re also happier? There’s also the fact you’ve cursed more times in this single day than in the nearly ten years I’ve known you! Just to preface, we’re seventeen.” Jill crossed her arms.

“Okay, yeah maybe I am acting different, but you’re making it out to be a bad thing.” You put your container of raw chicken drumsticks to the side and also turned to face her. “Jill, like I said back at the hospital, I feel amazing! Like actually awesome! And honestly, I don’t think felt this awesome since… ever.”

“But— but the vomit?” Jill was so close to sounding like she was whining, probably from how hard she was trying to make you understand that this isn’t something normal. You just shrugged in response. “And the chicken drumsticks?” Another shrug from you. “And the little prune-ball-thing in a ziplock bag at the bottom of my freezer?”

“Now that I think about it, what should we do with that thing?”

“I don’t know! If it really is an organ, do you think you should reswallow it again?”

You gave her one last shrug before reaching over to grab one of the drumsticks. You were about to bite into it before a loud crash interrupted you. It sounded like a window shattering.

“Shit.” Jill hissed as she rushed to the kitchen, likely to get the shotgun under the sink. You continued to sit on the couch. Someone was trying to do some B&E? Seriously? In the middle of this awesome movie, with some awesome food, with your awesome friend, while you’re feeling awesome?

You stood up. No one was gonna mess up your time with your best friend. She’s the one person we take solace in! Your Clyde to your Bonnie. Your Tom to your Jerry! Your— wow, you’re unhealthy attached to her, aren’t you?

You stepped out into the hallway. That’s when you saw the guy. He was a big man, holding a handgun. Wasn’t even wearing a mask. He was clean shaven and looked more like he should be doing accounting, despite his large stature, rather than breaking into people’s houses. When he saw you, he immediately trained the gun on you.

“Don’t move! Don’t you dare fucking move!” He yelled in a tone that promised he’d shoot if you did. Despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

After all, earlier, when you cut yourself on the rusted bars of the stairs leading up to Jill’s apartment, you hadn’t bled. Another not-normal thing added to Jill’s list.

Anyways, it’s safe to say, you don’t think you’ll bleed if you’re shot. Emphasis on “you think”.

“You’re gonna stay right fucking there, you got that?” The man yelled once more. What was with all the dang yelling? Geez…

“Oh. Uh… no.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no.” You spoke as you took a step closer. “I’m gonna move and you’re going to get out of this apar—”

Bang!

Oh. Wow. He actually shot you. You stilled for a moment and slowly looked down, the burglar did the same. Nothing. Except some black ooze starting to leak from the wound. The man slowly lowered his gun, probably caught off guard.

It was then you lunged.

You tore into him, your vision going black as the only thing you registered was the food you were eating and just how delicious his kidneys were. You tore through a piece of his lung and then started on of his intestines. You were only broke out of this daze by the sound of clattering.

Your head snapped up.

It was Jill. She’d dropped the shotgun and was looking at you with an emotion akin to horrification and surprise.

“Holy shit…” She mumbled.

For those who’ve watched the show, our friend is going to be our Joel, and for those who haven’t? You’ll know what I mean by that in due time.

#yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #neglected reader #x reader

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keen-li · 2 months ago

Text

All Aisle Ever Need 01 | jjk

chapter: 1/ ?

summary: You decide to take a risk and sign up for a program where you marry a complete stranger. You’re surprisingly okay with the idea—excited, even—though the occasional nerves still creep in. This could either be the best or worst decision of your life. Still, the mystery of it all feels thrilling, and you've made peace with not knowing the man you’re about to marry. No matter who he is, you’re ready to go through with it.

But on your wedding day, as you walk down the aisle, something makes you squint. There’s something familiar about the man standing at the altar. And then it hits you… you know him. You've made promises to yourself before, so many of them broken. This won't be any different...shit.

pairing: Jungkook x fem reader.

story type: series.

Genre: exes to lovers, second chance au, right person wrong timing, lack of communication, forced proximity, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut.

rating: m. Mdni

wordcount: 8.2k+

warnings for chapter: troubled parental dynamics/figures. It's implied that they are both grown, Jungkook is older than reader(the age is subjective). cussing. found family. none really from here on.

A/n: though of this whilst watching MAFS. i've been in a burnout and this got me out of it?. please don't ask me if it's a happy ending story(i'm not saying it is or is not.) I just feel if you ask me that then you're not really interested in the story.

anyways I hope you enjoys it.

date: 25/04/25

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story under cut.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You've always bought the same type of clothes, jewellery, produce as well. Why would you need anything else when you enjoy what you have.

And maybe that’s why you’re in the position you’re in now.

You should’ve been smarter and known that emptiness would follow you soon enough.

If you had taken the leap sooner--stepped out of the one-way route to love--you’d already be where you’re trying to force yourself now.

You would’ve realised that maybe what you’re looking isn’t in the men you find pleasure in.

You'd be getting married conventionally, and not having to sign up for some program.

Comfort comes cause the type of man you want is hard to find. He’s either already married or behind his desk overworking himself.

There is a little ego-death, just a little. Having to confront yourself on the type of man you want when you're at your limit is humbling. It should be something you know about yourself already.

You're not best at caring of yourself of late. When was the last time you had a self-care? You're still alive so it's fine.

Just like your type; you've been stuffing yourself behind your desk any chance you get.

But before your wedding you swear you’ll have a day to care for yourself. Physically at least.

You’ve been shaking your head for coming to this point, but your solace is in hope.

Putting your chance at love in someone else’s hands—someone trained, someone professional—might actually be the smartest move you’ve made in terms of relationships. That way, your own traits that have gotten you nowhere won’t come into play.

None of your past relationships have ever seen daylight because of how dumb you end up feeling for indulging in them, for believing they could be more.

They could never see the sun, let alone could they see the conversation of marriage.

You’ve tried to bring up the topic of marriage, and immediately they turn it down or change the subject. After that, you never bring it up again.

Honestly, after experiencing enough of that, you quit on the idea of commitment. Maybe you were stupid for wanting that.

What does marriage have that you can’t get from a simple relationship bound by an unstable verbal agreement.

You could definitely survive on that, right?

That’s what past you got by saying to herself.

You gave up on getting attached. It was just hook up and get out. None of them ever wanted anything serious, so you became that too. But it was never fulfilling, you thought that would be your answer. But it's not who you are.

You went on and it wasn’t long until you felt the emptiness of it all. And you had enough.

But still, somehow you still got stuck with the bro type. You'd like to blame lust but your therapist would like to blame your fear of being alone. You get her point but you don't think it fits your case well. You've never felt lonely or been afraid of it.

Anyways, you’ve dealt with that type for so long and you conclude if was just lust.

So, many of the guys following your frontal lobe development, have told you that you were too much. But all that meant to you was you knew what you wanted and they were not in the same frame. You have goals.

Now you want something serious and someone serious too. Someone who knows what they want and where they want to be in the future. Someone who’s going to have a plan immediately they see you. Because you do.

“I have to tell you guys something.” You clear your throat calling for your friend's attention.

Taehyung's head snaps to you. Jisoo on the other hand meets you with her eyes first.

You’d been hanging out normally, just chatting, laughing and catching up.

No moment was perfect enough to say what you wanted to, so you waited. But you’d been laughing and getting carried away with connected stories that the moment was not getting perfect enough.

For a moment you contemplated procrastinating the news. But if you procrastinated this any further you’d end up having no one at the venue.

So, being presented with the opportunity when a silence settled. It was now or never.

You want lie that it’s excitement, but there’s nothing exciting about the dryness in your throat.

You watch taehyung, seated on a stool elbows leaning against your island, and Jisoo standing next to you, walking from the fridge to the sink. Shit you have their attention.

That’s what you wanted. Speak.

You’ve been friends with Taehyung the longest because you were at the same high school, and you met Jisoo in university because you were in the same dorm and happened to be doing the same program. You all got along as a group and stayed that way. So, being there for each other through most life events, you have to tell them no matter how nervous you are.

And knowing them, what you’re about to say is far from what they expect.

Due to the serious and nervous undertone in your voice, they stare at you closely, inspecting your awkward tucking in of lips. Normally, Taehyung would be quick to say something witty about your behaviour, but he’s silent, only making you more nervous.

You release your lips and suck in a breath. “Okay... promise not to judge?” You warn, watching them both, but focusing more on Taehyung.

“What the fuck are you 'bout to say?” He narrows his eyes at you like he does when investigating you about a boyfriend. Does he think that’s what you’re about to say?

“You’re not going to judge?” You ask once more for good measure but it serves to irritate them. You chuckle like it’s amusing. Nothing is amusing, not after you tell them.

“At this point, we will.” Jisoo exclaims with a laugh, and Taehyung follows.

"Yeah, we might just."

Feeling the non-existent pressure on your neck, you pull your mouth open. “Fine.” You mumble to yourself for encouragement. There’s no going back; you’ve already told them there is something to be said. “I’m getting married.” It comes out quick and rushed, if they hadn’t known you like they do it could’ve been sworn you had just spoken gibberish.

They look confused. Do you repeat yourself?

You probably shouldn’t have started it that way. You could’ve started with explaining the program. Cause now they think you’ve lost your mind.

The two stare at your empty ring finger, then at each other, and then back to you, hoping you’ll clarify with a mocking laughter at their foolishness.

“What?” you say fumbling with the finger. They look at you like you’ve finally lost your last marble.

“To who?” They thunder in unison, confusion dripping from each syllable.

The reaction doesn’t shock you, and you don’t judge the question either. But little do they know you’ve been wondering the same thing as well.

“Well, I don’t know that part, but...” you feel a little ashamed to say it because they will think you’re definitely crazy now. You’ve never been the type to do something like this. They knew you wanted to get married, but not this much.

“Do we need to get you on medication?” you're not on any medication but the words still spill out of Jisoo’s mouth with concern and shock.

Your news has, Taehyung sitting up with folded arms, his eyebrows knit so hard they could touch.

“You barely have a boyfriend, what do you mean marriage, babes?” You turn your head away from Taehyung’s eyes. This is embarrassing.

It’s true for them it’s quite the jump, but if you could just explain yourself...

“You're hiding a boyfriend?”

A boyfriend? it’s comical.

After your nervous laughter dies down, you elaborate. “No. I signed up for this thing where you get married to a stranger.” You explain, your hands waving as you speak. It’s something you always do when you’re defending yourself.

As you process the words to use, you realise it does sound not like you. You’d definitely react like the same. “It’s called Married at First Sight.”

“Wow.” Is all that you get back. What the hell do you do with that?

“I got picked, which means I’m getting married.”

“To a random guy?”

You nod, lips folding again.

Telling your friends makes all this feel so real. You still can’t believe you signed up for this, let alone that you got picked. Something in you hoped you wouldn’t get picked because 1. what are the odds? And 2. maybe if you didn’t get picked, it would be a sign from the universe that you should just sit your ass down.

Your fingers fumble with the marble of your counter. As much as you’ve seen their reaction, you still don’t know what they think and it's making you feel more embarrassed. If they don’t support you or want you doing this, what the hell would you do? What if they think it’s stupid. “What do you think? You’re making me nervous.”

“I mean—how do you feel?”

“I’m okay." You scoff. “But I’m going into this so blind. And I kind of hate the feeling. But it’s nice to have the weight of finding a match out of my hands.” But having the control out of your hands is not like you, so that’s where the nerves are coming from as well. Cause what if they don’t give you what you want?

“Why’d you sign up, though? could’ve set you up with this guy I know.”

You appreciate your friends setting you up on blind dates; you really do. But they never go well, which is not on them but more on the guys. Surface level, they look like a match for you, but mentally and emotionally, they couldn’t be further from what you want. Maybe you need to look deeper than the superficial, which is honestly what this program is doing for you.

“Those don’t go well for me. You know that.” They do.

Did you mention that Jisoo is engaged? You’ve never seen her happier. She wasn’t even this happy when she graduated.

And you want that too. You’ve always thrown yourself into school and work to suffice for the love you weren’t able to feel. And growing up you always relied on academic validation. But it could only carry you so far after you hit every milestone and still felt nothing. The only thing that came close were the relationships. Situationships.

“You really want to do this?” jisoo coos.

“it’s not so bad to try"

“If they give you what you want.” Taehyung intersects.

You hope they do. “I wrote in detail, so they better.”

You have no clue what criteria they go by, but it couldn't be something contrary to your asks.

You get excited thinking of the perfect man for you standing at the end of the aisle. Like, gosh, you’re going to be so happy. Your stomach flutters already.

“They probably know what I need though.”

“Yeah. But you still want the basics, like—” Jisoo doesn’t even have a chance to finish when you cut in.

“Oh yeah... tall, smart, a man with a plan type of thing.” You feel so childish for being so excited about this. But it’s more about the excitement of having the perfect man for you. You try not to picture his physical appearance because you might end up disappointed if you linger on it for too long.

Taehyung and Jisoo smile, listening to how excited you are. If you’re happy, they are too; that’s all they care about. That what what think of and not that this is the most conventional way to go about it.

Returning to your cooking, you decide to dig more into their thoughts. “What do you guys think I need?”

Feeling experienced, Taehyung takes the lead to share. He’s heard and seen a fair share of your crushes and boyfriends and how it's ended, so he feels like he knows what you’d like. “Definitely a business-style, you know. Sleek back hair, tall, nerdy.”

“Is that what I give off?” You chuckle a brow raised. Embarrassed. You've definitely grown into that assumption.

You do. You’ve always been the academic type and Taehyung’s parents always trashed him for not being like you. Even though he wasn’t even a bad student. You always made him look bad. But that's all to say you’re smart and a work focused person, so you need a man who is the same.

You also like to be control. Whether that’s knowing all the tiny details of an event, or planning all the trips. As much as he benefits from it, Taehyung is definitely sure you use it as a coping mechanism for something.

“You need someone who can take control.” He adds.

"But still obsessed with her." Jisoo chirps in and Taehyung couldn't nod harder.

It would be nice to have someone to do things with. But an obsessed man? You're not sure. You want him to love you but shouldn't be too overbearing.

“I feel crazy for doing this.” You bite your lower lip, letting your worries out a little. “Like I’m seriously going to get married to a stranger.” You believe it less the more you say it.

“It’s not the conventional way, but you know we’ll be there for you no matter what.” You warm into Jisoo’s rub on your back. You’re trying to mask your true nerves with excitement; you doubt it’s fully working, but you’re trying. “As long as you’re happy And he makes you happy.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Taehyung promises, sounding more like a threat to your groom.

You seem serious about it and it must be if you got picked. So the only power he has is to be there for you as a friend. Its honestly not such a bad thing, if he wanted to get married he'd think of doing it like this too. It more thrilling. And there’s nothing Taehyung loves more than thrill.

Having your friends feels comforting, and it’s all you need. Really. But with how serious this is, you’re going to have to call your family soon, and you’re not ready for that. The idea raise the bile in you.

Unlike your friends, you have no clue how they’ll feel. You haven’t spoken to them in a while but the last thing they’d be thinking to hear from you is marriage. The last you remember none of them thought you were marriage material.

It's out of courtesy that you’re even telling them. But no matter what they say, you’ve already been picked, and you are getting married.

“it's still crazy though.” this isn't how he imagined this going. But he should be the last person calling you crazy when it’s the only thing he knows. But you get it; it’s out of your character to do something like this. But who knows you could find what you’re looking for outside of your comfort zone. It’s not 100%, but you’re ready to take that risk. “Imagine you marry an ex...”

Taehyung is not helping soothe you. The thought has crossed your mind before.

“Don’t scare me,” you brush off the thought with a hand on your chest, and they both can’t help but laugh. It would be so funny if you walked down the aisle and it was one of your stupid exes. Gosh... you’d walk out immediately, no question. “Don't think they would be serious enough for marriage.” They’re all probably out there still being reckless and whatever.

“What if he doesn’t like something that you like?”

“Don’t know" you chuckle "But I’d be damned if he doesn’t want to listen to my playlists.”

“Ouu, he’d be a gone man if he didn’t like your mugs too.” You know Jisoo’s being sarcastic; for some reason, everyone dislikes your mugs. The designs specifically. But you like them, so he would be damned if he didn’t like them.

“I mean, we have 3 months until we decide whether we want to be together or not....”

“Would you want to get divorced?”

You don’t even want to think of that. Divorce is not something you think about or want to think about. You know how much you hate it and how it affects children. You don’t have kids with the man, but still, you just hate divorce. It feels too much like failure.

“I hope not, but if he’s completely unreasonable, then I’ll have no choice.” You wouldn’t want to fight for something that bears no fruit. But you pray that’s not going to be the case. It shouldn't be too bad.

“I just want to like him, and I hope he likes me too. I would want this to work out.” You stare blankly at your hands. “I don’t know if I’d be able to look for love again after this.”

You’re being to dramatic but that’s because this feels like all you have.

“In that case, let’s pray he’s the one.”

You all go quiet for a second. The pot on the stove starts to bubble.

“This is real,” you murmur.

And somehow, that thought is both terrifying—and thrilling.

“Namjoon, what do you think?” He’s the only one who’s been quiet about what just came out of jungkook’s mouth.

It’s not the idea of Jungkook getting married to a stranger that’s concerning (Though that’s its own thing.) It’s more about the idea of Jungkook getting married in general.

“I mean—do what makes you happy. It’s not the conventional way...” Namjoon begins, and Jungkook can’t help but roll his eyes at how serious his friend is being. He’s not surprised, though; Namjoon has always been the more serious and mature one between the two. Unlike Jungkook, Namjoon has always known what to do and when to do it. He is the kind of guy with structure, but Jungkook, on the other hand, is more of the go-with-the-flow kind of person.

He does things on a whim, reckless with who he goes out with. Relationships have always been fun for him; he never took them seriously. That was until he sat with himself and looked around. All of his friends were settling down and were not available to go out. One was having a child, the other was getting married, and standing at the altar as a groomsman so often, had him worried about what he was doing.

He watched his friends fall in love and be so happy; he wanted that too. Could he have it too? The bro lifestyle he was living was not going to give him that.

He hid behind hookups so much that he hadn’t realized he did want to settle down, find a nice woman, and live that picture-perfect life, he saw his parents have.

And it was time for that. So, by chance and through his coworker, he stumbled upon this program and signed up.

He wasn't going to get picked, so it wouldn’t be so bad if he did try.

He never had much hope in it; like, how would some experts know from a form who to pair him up with? It was a scam to him. His plan was to go out and meet ladies the usual way, but even they didn’t see him so seriously; he was just a hookup to them too. It did hurt him. But honestly, they weren’t wife material anyway.

Jungkook has always liked doing stuff that people would call crazy; it made him happy. So being told that a match was found and he was going to get married to a stranger didn’t make him nervous at all—if you exclude the seriousness of marriage though.

“Come on, hyung...”

“I wouldn’t put this past you, so I’m not surprised. I’m just worried if you’re ready for this. I don’t think you realize how serious it is.”

It’s not shocking that Namjoon stares at Jungkook with such distrust; he himself doesn’t trust himself fully. But he wants to. Because how can a wife trust him if he doesn’t?

Nothing will convince him or others that he is serious and growing, other than through actions. And that’s what he intends to do. Namjoon may not trust him now, but when he sees how serious he is, he will.

“I’ve grown, hyung, don’t you think?” Jungkook sips his beer, staring at his friend. Having this conversation at a bar may not have been the best, but it was the perfect moment to do so. Though jungkook has never cared about perfect timing.

Namjoon lets out a puff of air. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s not supportive. “You have, but this is a serious commitment, Kook.”

He doesn’t need to be told once more how serious this is; his brain can do that just fine.

“I know. But I’ve reached that point where I want to settle down. I’m ready to get serious.” It’s definitely something he never thought he would say. “I want to show that I can be serious, you know? I want to be like you, Seokjin.”

He pats the man on his shoulder, and he can’t help but feel honored to be an inspiration. Seokjin was one of the first to get married and is now expecting a child. Jungkook envies that—the ability to feel stable enough to bring in another life. He wants to be stable too. Have a little mini him to play around with.

Who the hell has he become.

“I think it’s good you want to settle down, Koo. I just hope you’re doing this for the right reasons and not just to prove yourself,” the oldest begins. Seokjin doesn’t think he’s some wise man, but he can confidently say he has the most knowledge on this among all of them. He does support his friend and thinks it’s great he’s doing this, but something in him fears he’s in it for the wrong reasons. “I mean, it won’t only be you. You’re merging your life with someone else—someone you don’t know to add. I wouldn’t want you to drag her feelings into a journey of trying to prove yourself.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Because the truth is, part of him doesn’t know truly why he’s doing this. And not knowing is something he hates nowadays.

This is where Jungkook’s second thoughts root even further. He fears that—fears dragging someone along into his flawed perception of self. But it’s not what this is about, and even though he doesn’t mention it, he does want to find someone to love and someone to give the love he hasn’t been able to give his past lovers.

“I get what you’re saying, hyung, and I promise that’s not the case. I do want to care for the person too.”

Seokjin nods, taking a sip of his drink. “That’s good. You are growing,” he mocks, and they all laugh.

“The not knowing what’s ahead is a little off putting, I’ll be honest.” Jungkook doesn’t stare at his friends but rather analyses every bubble of air in his drink that rises to the surface. They rise fast, then disappear. Like everything he used to think love was.

“Do you think you can do it?”

“I think I can... I want to.” He finally looks up to stare at nothing in particular.

“The first step is the commitment, so if you have that, then you’re good.” Jungkook nods; he should probably be taking notes on what Seokjin is saying. “Oh, Namjoon, you’re going to be the only single one.” They all laugh, but Namjoon only chuckles.

“It’s scary how you’re still single.” His friends see him as the perfection of what a woman wants: tall, smart, a man who knows what he wants. It’s all what women describe, but still, the tall silver-haired man has never taken dating seriously, nor does he hook up. It’s concerning.

“It’s because I want to,” he replies, taking a drink of his beer. And that’s all they’ll ever get from him.

“So what are you looking for, Koo?”

They shouldn’t even get him started on this. He’s never really known because he’s never really thought about it. But of late, the answers have been coming in like ants—tiny but a lot. “Um, just someone outgoing, you know... likes to have fun.” He won’t burden them with all he’s been thinking because some are just stupid stereotypes. “Someone who likes to go out and try new things, likes to have fun.”

“Jungkook? a party girl?.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes; maybe his previous preferences slip into his ideas of who he wants, which is not good. He wants something new, something he’s never had. Because what he’s had is not what he needs. So maybe this will be different.

“No... listen. I like going bowling and stuff like that, you know? So I hope she would want to do that with me.” He smiles, trying to defend himself. “When I get married, I’ll quit the club too.” The additional sentence causes a roar of laughter among his friends, drawing attention from other bar-goers. Seokjin does go out occasionally, but the difference (especially with his wife’s due date approaching) has been significant.

The laughter dies down.

“Look at him acting like he’s grown.”

“I am grown... I’m going to be a husband.” It’s surreal for him to say.

“She needs to be strong to handle you.”

“I’m not that bad..”

The most exciting thing about this whole thing is finding your dress. You’ve been looking at dresses for a long time so you would like to say you know what style you’re looking for, you’ve been thinking of this since you were in middle school so you should know. You’re grateful your taste has grown out of the poofy ballgown phase.

Cause of the context of the wedding you want something simple. Clean. Intentional.

And Jisoo knew of the perfect store to go to.

Most women find their dress months in advance, but you’ve got a week. A week. So this has to be it. Today should be the day.

Picking out the dress is the only part of this whole process that feels like you have control over, so you’re throwing yourself into it. And with that comes nitpicking. A lot of it.

You step out of the dressing room in your fourth gown and face the mirror. It’s a beautiful dress. You loved it on the rack. But now, wearing it, something’s... off.

“Why don’t i feel something?” you ask, running your hands down the dress draping your figure. You turn to your friends, looking for validation. “I’m supposed to feel it, right? Isn’t that a thing?” you aren’t sure if it was a myth, but you’ve heard that when you find the right one you’ll be able to feel it.

“You should.” Jisoo says gently, sitting up straighter at the sight of your face. She knows how sensitive this moment is for you. The time pressure, the stress, if you spiral now, it’s over. “What don’t you like about it?”

You stare at the mirror. Tilt your head. Bite your lip. Try to search for an answer.

“i don’t know i just dont feel like a bride in it.” You continue to feel over it trying to convince yourself but still nothing.

Maybe its cause you have no romantic connection with this man and hence you don’t feel like the conventional bride who can actually feel like she’s dress shopping with a purpose.

“Then we try another,” the stylist says with an encouraging smile.

You hope you don’t sound like a bridezilla because this is the fourth dress you’ve tried on and don’t like. Your stomach churns.

What if you don’t find one? What if you end up walking down the aisle in something you hate cause you weren’t able to find ‘the one’ in time. You can’t wear something that doesn’t feel like you. You’re not a person very particular about clothes but this is your wedding dress in question. It has to be perfect.

“Hey...” Jisoo comes to your side, her hand warm on your arm. You feel your shoulders drop just a little. “Don’t pressure yourself. We can come back tomorrow.”

You nod, but the thought makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to come back. You want to feel it now.

“Can I try a few more first? Just in case?”

“Of course,” she says, like she never had a doubt.

You head back into the dressing room. One more. Just one more.

Walking back into the dressing room and getting into another dress. You’re praying this will be the one or good enough at least.

“Fucking hell yn...” Taehyung whistles.

That’s new. He didn’t react like this for the others.

“You look so gorgeous babes.” Jisoo adds with a blushing smile as you walk onto the pedestal to finally see what they see.

The dress in terms of material feels great. It’s soft on your skin and it pours down your body like liquid. Without even looking at it you’d say you feel comfortable.

Once you take in your figure in the mirror, you can fel the tears sting the corner of your eyes. You definatlety feel it. You feel that feeling.

With the other dresses it felt like they were wearing you, but for this one, you’re definitely the one owning it.

“Gosh.. it’s almost too perfect to be marrying a stranger in.” You state still enamoured and not believing that the reflection is you.

“if this dude doesn’t cry or fall to his knees when he sees you i’ll beat his kneecaps in.” Taehyung expresses and when you look at him through the mirror you catch him tabbing a tissue at his eyes, jisoo too. Gosh now your tears are falling too.

“Come on guys.” You try to say through a sniffle. “you’re making me cry.”

Sniffling and patting at your eyes with a tissue you try to collect yourself.

“on a serious note. You look gorgeous.” Taehyung says, folding the tissue in to his palm. “you look beautiful. I should’ve married you instead. This guy doesn’t deserve you.”

You choke out a laugh, knowing he’s joking. You and Tae never looked at each other like that.

“If we were getting married, I’d wear sweats. Jeans if I’m feeling fancy.”

“Ouch,” he gasps, clutching his chest. Jisoo snorts. “Is that all I am to you.” He’s way more than that. He’s everything you'd ever want to dream of in a friend.

“i hope this dude realises how much he’s won with you.” Jisoo says softly.

“If he has two eyes, he will otherwise we’ll fight.” Of course it’s tae saying that.

“Why do you hate him you barely know him.” you say causing the man to pull back in defence.

“I’m just setting boundaries.”

He’s always been protective. You can’t blame him.

“But how do you feel?” Jisoo asks.

You take a breath. Let the silence hold for a second. You take in the weight of the dress, the way it fits, the way it makes you feel like maybe this whole thing won’t be so terrible after all.

“i love it.” It comes out soft but it says all that’s needed to be said. “i think it’s the one.”

Cheers erupts in the room the room, and your heart feels light for the first time in days.

You laugh through your tears. “I’m gonna be a Mrs. Something.”

“I just hope he’s got a good last name, at least.” Taehyung grins.

You hope so too.

But that’s one of the many things you’re choosing not to think about. Not yet.

Jungkook has never woken up early for anything. And the last thing he ever thought he’d be waking up early for was his wedding.

“You ready for today?” Seokjin says bascally aready dressed while Jungkook walks around in his sweats.

“As ready as i can ever be.” His eyes don’t leave the suit hanging on the wall. Gosh how would he have found one if he didn’t have his friends.

“You sure? You’re too calm.”

“Not everyone’s gonna be in panic.” Namjoon chimes in.

Seokjin’s wedding morning was definitely chaotic cause of how the man panicked.

Though at the time he never thought of it seriously, Jungkook worried that it was custom to panic like that and he’d panic too. But even still he feels too relaxed, last night’s drinks might have something to do with it. When Seokjin and namjoon had gone to sleep, and jungkook couldn’t, he's only solace was the liquor cabinet. He hopes it’s not obvious. Cause he can fool his friends but his mother might be able to catch it, no matter how hard he’s brushed his teeth.

“it’s good to atleast show some of your nerves.” Seokjin moves to the counter to pour some drinks. Jungkook gags at the smell of spirit. “You can’t be perfectly relaxed.”

Can’t he? It is possibe for him to not be worried about anything. He doesn’t have to be having doubts and fears for this to be real. He doesn’t.

“I’m fine.” He groans, rubbing his face and reaching for the suit hanging on the door of his room. He's fine...so fine.

Seokjin doesn’t dig in deeper. And one thing the older does know is that no matter what, Jungkook must be feeling something and his silence about it might be proving what Seokjin thought. Thinks.

“Did you send the gift?” he turns to namjoon worried about one thing.

“Yeah.”

Jungkook wanted to make a good impression so he hopes the gift does some apologising if you’re able to notice he's fucked up face.

“Can you help me with my tie?” He knows how to do it. Has been doing it for school for so long. But for once he just wants to feel like she’s involved in something he's doing. Something positive.

The drooping look on her face is discouraging enough, but he tries.

“You’ve been doing it for so long. Do you really need my help?” She says not even looking at him, and yet again he feels the embarrassment.

Clearing his throat, he turns to do it himself but his dad replaces his hands. “I told you guys, you didn’t have to travel for this.” He says lifting his chin up a little for his dad.

He was fine with them not coming, and seeing that they lived so far away it would’ve been an inconvenience. And it’s not like its a wedding his mother would want to attend anyways; so he didn’t want to waste their time.

He was perfectly fine with them not coming.

“it’s your wedding why wouldn’t we come?” His father says patting down the tie and arranging his collar. It's almost as if it’s his first day at school and his graduation again. He hopes he can do this for his son one day too.

In a whisper away from anyone else his father speaks. "I want you to enjoy today. And whoever she is I want you to give her your all. Love her more than you love yourself, more than you’ve ever loved anything.”

His eyes are sincere as the words are spoken. His father isn’t emotional so even that soft fall of his brows is a lot. And it’s all Jungkook can ask for. “She's gonna love you too, I know it. You’re a good kid.” He pats his shoulder.

He can cry...no. So he sniffles the waters away.

His father has always been a good husband. And that’s who he wants to be as well, no matter who he marries, no matter how difficult she could be.

His parents have been the ideal couple in his life for a long time. And that doesn’t change no matter what.

Everything is silent for a moment as jungkook sinks into what’s about to happen today. It’s only until a voice breaks his serenity.

“Namjoon!” his mother calls out playfully with a glass in her hands, she doesn’t even drink.

Namioon flinches and turns to her smiling awkwardly. He's never known how to act around her. “When are you getting married? Sure there are so many woman dying to be hitched up to a perfect guy like you.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and tells namjoon he doesn’t have to answer.

But his mother won’t let that be.

“Not anytime soon Mrs jeon.”

The laugh she releases is sharp and demeaning. But it’s not directed to namjoon. “You see? People who wait to find a girl the right way.”

When Jungkook’s gaze meets hers, he has to remind himself she's the woman that birthed him.

“You didn’t have to come you know that?”

“Come on. You want me here, I’m your mother.”

Contrary to popular belief...

“You’re such a handsome boy, why do you want to get married. You’re wasting your time.” She starts.

She should be praising him for seeing the value in getting married and maturing to the idea. But no...

Jungkook puffs out a breath. The room has been silent since his mother began speaking. And he drowns in it. There's a lot he could say.

Instead, he throws the jacket on and teases at it a little in the mirror. Some are unnecessary touches but he does them anyways. Feeling ready enough he steps away but before he walks out further he looks at the woman sat on the couch.

“If you can..,try your best not to speak to her, okay?”

“Did they call?” Taehyung’s voice is almost none existent in your field of thoughts.

It’s only when he repeats that you catch what he said. "no.” You say no energy in your voice. “but it’s fine...their loss.”

You toss your phone on the couch a little too harshly, just wanting to forget it. Forget everything.

You won’t and can’t beg for people who don’t want to be in your life. Informing them was just a courtesy, you didn’t want him here anyways.

Though it would’ve been great if they could just put their pride aside for you for once.

Taehyung wraps his arms around you. “Their loss. Just know you’ve got us.” He nudges at your temple with his nose.

“Yeah, you’ve got people who care and that’s all that matters.” Jisoo hugs you too and now you’re sandwiched between them. It reminds you that no matter what, you still have people around you who do care and want to support you. So if those people who you thought would want to see succeed didn’t want to be here then it’s not on you. You have your friends.

“let’s finish getting ready guys.” They brush them away playfully and immediately your hairstylist is quick to working on you.

“So bossy.” You roll your eyes at the remark. “Gonna give this guy a run for his money.”

It doesn’t matter. You cheer to yourself.

Nothing else matters today, you’re getting married and you don’t need to cloud your thoughts with negativity. You wouldn’t want your husband to see you all gloomy. That’s not gonna to be your first impression.

You smile.

All you want to do right now is walk down that aisle. Nothing else matters.

“Did i mention a little something came in for you in the mail” jisoo’s voice comes in excited but you aren’t able to turn cause you’re on your final steps of getting your makeup done.

“huh?” when she stands in front of your eyes fall in the object in her grasp. “What’s that?” you eaxclaim with a smile taking the box onto your lap.

“Open it.” She exclaims, more excited than you.

The tiffany and co logo on the box is evident when you unwrap it. You can’t help but smile from ear to ear. You haven’t met him yet and he’s making you smile this hard? Once it’s open you’re met with a silver locket and bracelet. You’ve gotten gifts before but you have no clue why you’re blushing so hard for this one.

“oh my gosh these are so cute.”

“tiffany and co too...” Jisoo adds, immediately rushing for you to put it on cause it would look good with your dress.

Taehyung watches from across the room, already dressed. “Anybody can buy that.”

“hater...” you and Jisoo choir.

Seokjin made it clear for him to behave when he sees your family. He has no clue what he thought he would do, because as much as he’s outgoing, In front of the in-law's he’s a dove.

He’s trying to be calm and act like he’s ready and been ready, but he can’t deny the cold sweats that threaten to run and mess his suit. This is the most trust he’s put into anything. All he’s praying is that it works out.

He’s a fucking groom.

Jisoo sits watching him closely, he is handsome and somebody you would find handsome too. But something she knows you’ll be worried about is probably his personality. He looks like the opposite of what you want and all you’ve been running away from. But who knows with you nowadays. He could be a good guy though.

“Hello.” Jungkook waves to your side. From all he can see, there’s a woman probably same age as him, could be a sister? Friend? Next he sees is an older lady probably the same age as his mother. That could be your mother. The rest of the crowd is filled with 2 people.

Not many people, but t doesn't matter. He wouldn't invite anybody too, if he didn’t have to. Maybe you're too embarrassed to be marrying already.

He's eyes can't stay on one spot. He tries but it's painful.

When he turns to his side, Seokjin and namjoon smile at him, it helps ease whatever he’s feeling but immediately his heart tightens up watching the person sat next to his father whisper into his ear..

What the hell is she saying? Is he standing up straight? Is he smiling enough or too hard.

This is the craziest thing you've ever done. The bravest too.

And—God, you hope—it’s the last wild thing you’ll have to do for a while.

Breathing is something your body usually handles without question, but now it needs supervision. You have to consciously pull air into your lungs, or you won’t make it down this aisle walking.

You have no idea what’s waiting at the end of it.

What if you’re not attracted to him?

Worse—what if he’s not attracted to you?

What if you’re not what he’s been hoping for?

“This still feels like a dream,” you mumble, looping your arm around Taehyung’s. He smells like cologne and nerves. What the fuck is he nervous for.

“You ready?” he asks gently.

No, but you nod. “Yeah.”

The gentle music of a live plays as people stand and you walk, still not in view yet cause if the infrastructure. Its a small venue but sill manages to make you feel like you’re drowning.

As you walk and get closer you try your hardest not to look at the one thing you’re most curious about.

So your eyes choose to scan the venue instead—the warm fairy lights, the soft music, the flowers. You knew the production team would go all-out, but you didn’t expect them to go all out for you. It’s perfect.

You’ve never felt this special in your life. Twelve-year-old you couldn’t have imagined this moment. Even though this isn’t the love story you thought you’d get, the feeling is still here, blooming in your chest.

Who says he can’t become the love of your life?

Jungkook's eyes are wide when they land on your.

From your soft smile to styled hair amd the the dress that falls down your body carefully, he watches every detail. He can’t look anywhere else. He swears his heart was just in his chest a moment ago.

Jungkook watches the person walking you down the aisle, he’s a younger guy. That’s interesting. A sibling?

From all that he’s imagined he could get, you were not on the card. But he'll take it.

You’re more than he bargained for.

You walk slowly, soaking it all in. Nearing the arch, you finally allow yourself to look at the man chosen for you.

And—shit.

He’s… handsome.

You eyes squint.

He smiles as you approach, so at least he doesn’t seem horrified. That’s something.

Taehyung shares a nod with the man, nothing warm or cold behind. You hug him before he walks to his seat, clinging for just a second too long. Then, it's just you and him—your groom. You can’t meet his eyes for more than a second. And it’s embarrassing.

You’ve been on debate teams, presented in University projects and in meetings at work. Basically you’ve had eyes on you before and it was manageable...but these? They burn.

“Hi,” you say, voice small.

You glance toward his side. A good amount of family. One person stands out—tall, silver hair. Probably a groomsman.

Your groom is attractive, sure, but not your type. Tattoos?, the way he stands—he looks like someone you tried to avoid.

You hate how superficial that sounds. But the thought won’t leave.

At least he’s taller than you.

“Hi,” he replies, equally nervous. Then leans in. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look nice too.” You eye him down, eyes narrowed.

If this were a blind date, you’d already be knee-deep in awkward small talk. But this? This is… bigger. It requires bigger questions.

“Let me take that for you.” Jisoo’s whisper interrupts. She takes your bouquet and you almost refuse, needing something to keep your fingers occupied.

“I see you got the jewellery.” His voice is as light as the pale blue sky. It’s odd to compare it to a colour but that how it feels. His voice reminds you of the blue sky you’ve stood under so many times wondering if your soulmate died. There’s still a possibility of that.

You glance down. You’d worn it and forgotten. It had become that comfortable. That familiar. But now with the recognition, you can feel the cold silver touch every part of you. You can feel it sway and graze you every turn you make. Even the smallest action causes movement.

“Oh yeah. Thank you.”

“You’ll have to thank my groomsman too. He helped me pick it.”

He looks over at Namjoon, who immediately looks like he wants to disappear.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It might sound like he couldn’t handle it alone. But truthfully, Namjoon just knows more about…well, this kind of thing.

“Thank you, groomsman,” you direct a more warm smile to the man.

Namjoon mumbles something, but you don’t catch it.

Turning back, you stare a beat longer when your eyes catch he's features. You bite the inside of your cheek. His face—it’s not common. Not forgettable.

And yet…

The officiant steps forward. Time for the official part.

“Yn, meet for the very first time, Jungkook Jeon. Jungkook, meet for the very first time, Yn Y/l/n.”

His name hits you like a church bell.

“Jungkook?” you repeat sounding a little shocked, like you didn’t hear it right the first time.

He chuckles nervously. “That’s me.” Do you not like his name?

Your stomach drops.

You know him. The name. The face. It clicks.

Your nose works over time pulling in air. You can't open your mouth, cause you might just puke.

Shit—does he know you? He doesn’t seem like he does.

Is this real?

The man you remember wouldn’t be standing here right now. Does she have some polar opposite twin or something?

You rub your arms and wish you could blame the AC for the chill. But that's all on him.

Glancing at your friends. They have no clue what’s happening inside your head right now. They don't know how fast the room spins.

Where do you put your hands, what do you hold onto?

None of them know about him. He’s the only one you've never told them about. And they sit there waiting for you--with smiles and excitement--to marry him.

You made them come here. They smile for you. They support you.

You asked them to be here for you. You wanted to do this.

What a waste of time. You should’ve known.

To add-on, as you look at your friends for a second time you stop at a face you were not expecting and hadn't noticed. How did you miss that? A face that had told you she didn’t want to be here, well not her specifically but mainly on behalf of your father. But what the hell is your mother doing here? She said she couldn’t come.

What the fuck is going on. Collect yourself, you don’t want to look like you’re about to faint. Even though the overwhelming review of information could just kill you right here.

But it’s okay. You still have time to walk away. Walk away from everyone.

You thought this was going to go well.

You hoped it would.

But now?

This is not what you wanted.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/n: 😏😏 what did you think? I hope you liked it. Please don't ask me if it's a happy ending story(i'm not saying it is or is not.) I just feel if you ask me that then you're not really interested in the story progression. I will try my best to post frequently (I've been working on 2 as well) so just hood your horses.

anyways I hope you enjoyed.

same time next week?

Lets discuss in the replies 🖐😊

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @granataepfelchen @jksusawife @notsevenwithyou @llallaaa @kmpj9 @lryf @smileyshaven @dragonflygurl4

note: to join taglist just inbox.

every note, reply and reblog is appreciated.

let me know what you thought of this chapter. do you think she'll marry him?

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omgfangirlland · 4 months ago

Text

The Shadows That Nurture 21

Batsis needs a vacation but someone else will start working on making her consider it behind the scenes😇

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 21 >>next

“It’s crooked.” Mark looked at the pillar he placed down before looking back at you. “Nuh-uh.” You give him a look. “The fuck you mean nuh-uh? Look at it- it’s leaning to the right.” Mark just nudged it to sit straight with his foot. “Nuh-uh, it doesn’t.” The blank stare you gave him made his neutral expression break for a second, amusement making his lip twitch. “Markus. Do not play with me right now.” At your empty threat, he simply laughs.

Your attention was brought over to Andressa and Nolan who were calling you two over. “We’ve completed a ship to take you home.” Andressa said while handing the baby over to you as Nolan placed a hand on your shoulder. ”I’ll miss you two greatly, make sure to visit.” Your eyebrow raised at his words. “You’re coming with us.”

The statement was met with a confused what from both men. “And our son will go with you.” Andressa continued. She also was met with the same shock and confusion. “It’s time you all returned to Earth. Don’t argue with me, Nolan. Each week I’m aging more and more. By the time our son will speak his first words, I’ll be long gone.” Her hands move to caress both Nolan and her son. “You two are so special to me, but my life will run its course far faster than either of yours. I’d feel terrible keeping you here for another month just to have you leave when I’m gone.”

“But the government- Debbie-“ Nolan’s stuttered confusion was met with a smile from the two women present. “We conspired behind your back.” You shrug. “Lawyers have already been contacted, Cecil’s on our side, for now at least, and will push everyone finding out about you for a while, and mom knows. About everything.” You nod towards Andressa, who simply smiles brighter at the silence of the two men. “I had to know what type of woman would raise my baby. You chose well.”

Nolan and Mark looked at each other, both trying to process what just happened. “You’ll be stuck on feeding and diaper change duties, by the way. Think of it as your start towards paying for your crimes.” You nudge your father before boarding the ship. “I told you I’ll make sure you repent for what you did.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I can’t believe you put us through a week of spaceship travel just to see dad change diapers and feed the baby.” Your dearest brother nudges into your mind. “Was it not fun to see him panic, fail, and look so betrayed when we wouldn’t help?” Mark huffs as he opens the front door. “Fair.”

You, Mark, and your baby brother walked in just fine, no problems, but as soon as Nolan stepped in he was met with a pan to his face, the body of it slightly molding to his face. “Huh. You were right.” Debbie’s voice was heard, making Nolan’s half-asleep mind go out of fight instinct. “I do feel better after hitting him.”

You just smiled while kissing your mom’s cheek, leaning into her hug as Mark joined. “My babies.” She almost sings while squeezing you both, being mindful not to squeeze the baby too tight. While Mark pulled away sooner, you still lingered, only moving when your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message. “Oh, sorry mom. I have to go. I promised to see Talia as soon as I got back.”

She doesn’t take your littlest brother when you try to move him from your wrap carrier. “No. You should take Oliver with you, too.” Marks raised an eyebrow. “Oliver? You already named him? And after grandpa, too?” Debbie just shrugs. “We can’t call him baby. And I’m not letting your father name him like he named you, Markus. You should go too. I’m sure Amber misses you.” Locking eyes, you two immediately got the memo, so while Mark flew upstairs to change and go out the window, you quickly put an illusion spell on Oliver, his purple skin changing to a more human tone, and flew out of the house too.

“Debbie-“ Nolan started but his wife wasn’t having any of it. “I don’t care, Nolan. I really don’t. I’ve realized my life can go on without you. I don’t need you to help me raise my kids, I don’t need you to make me feel good about myself. I don’t need you. Period.” The woman crosses her arms. “But I can’t protect our kids in the same way you can. That’s the only reason I let you back into my house.”

“Cecil may be willing to help now, but I don’t trust him. There have been whispers of the Guardians having an inner war, whispers of the Justice Leagues doing something behind the government's back, which isn’t new, but Lois has been awkward with me lately, especially when the two B’s are brought up. She gets this guilty look. She’s keeping something from me.” The viltrumite’s muscles tensed at the mere mention of the bat. “He’s planning something, they all are, and I can’t do what you do.”

“You won’t have to.” Nolan reassures, hands itching to wrap around her, to soothe her worries. “I’ll deal with that. With everything… But we really should talk about us.” Debbie just sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “We… should.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Mother. I beg of you to stop.” Damian complained as Talia ran her hand through his hair, the tips of her fingers caressing his temple. “No. I’m your mother, and I have missed you.” The youngest bat sighs at his mother’s antics. “And stop fidgeting, she won’t bite your head off.” Her teasing is only met with a glare.

“I don’t know. Mom says she likes to bite people.” Jon shrugs, not noticing his friend tensing up. Talia’s chuckle is soft as she finally pulls her hand away from her son’s hair. “I said she won’t bite his head off. I never said she won’t bite.” The teasing only made Damian more nervous, his nostrils flaring, eye twitching.

“Stop scaring the kids, Talia. I don’t bite… Hard.” Your toothy smile didn’t ease Damian, who had stood up as soon as he heard your voice. Putting the fact that he hasn’t noticed you, burying it at the back of his head as a matter of fact, it was strange to see you without your costume. “I see we both brought our kids with us.” You smile at the two boys while introducing yourself and sitting down across the other woman.

“Is that yours?” Damian didn’t even introduce himself, his eyes were fixated on the dark-haired baby, already making plans on how to eliminate the alleged father. Jon cringed at the chosen words, kicking Damian’s shin gently. “Oh, no. I should have worded that better.”

You smile brightly as you ruffle the baby’s hair, messing it up even more. “This is my baby brother, Oliver. He got adopted recently, and mom needed a break, so he’s stuck with me.” This is so much worse. Damian would have preferred a nephew over a rival to the title of little brother. Talia took over as her boy was processing everything. “Well, they are having a school trip. This is Jon Kent, my son’s friend. And this is-“

“Damian al Ghul, my mother speaks highly of you. Nice to meet you.” His hand extended for a shake as he spoke. Talia’s face remained unmoving, but he could feel hers and Jon’s disapproving look. He chose to ignore it. “Nice to meet you, too.” Your constant smile eased his nerves, sitting back down while Jon greeted you as well. You took the other boy’s shaky smile as him being shy. Lois mentioned that once. “Oh, thank you for keeping my mom active and not letting her drown in all this mess, Talia- ”

The voice of Cecil ringing through your earpiece made you stop talking, giving the boys and the woman an apologetic smile as you started speaking to the old man. “Can’t this wait-… Look, I know you’re worried or whatever-…” You sigh, rubbing at your forehead. “What about Mark?... Alright. Fine, I’ll see you there.”

“You barely got back and are off to save the world again, huh?” Talia’s joking is met with a sad smile. “Sorry- I really have to help with this one-“ Damian quickly jumped at the opportunity. “We can help.” His words were met with a confused look from both women, but Jon saved him. “With the baby! We can help with the baby! I- I’ve babysat before, and we have an adult- I mean, you can’t just leave Ollie with your mom since she needed a break-“

While Jon kept on talking, your eyes met Talia’s, who smiled reassuringly at you. “We can take care of him. Don’t worry. We can go straight to my apartment. I’ll send you the address, and you can come and pick him up when you’re done.” You relent, letting Talia grab Oliver while you untie the wrap and hand it over, too. “Oh, here’s a jar of some food for him- he’s picky. And this is a gift for you.” You set on the table, next to the jar, a Thraxan flower encased in a clear quarts. “The quarts is magically made. It’s supposed to keep it from rotting and withering.” You shrug. “I remember you mentioning you miss your garden, and I sure miss mine. So, while this isn’t a garden, it’s something that you can carry around wherever you go. And I’m sorry to you both, if I knew, I would have gotten you two something as well-“

“Love. Thank you for the gift, but you’re rambling. Go before I decide to keep you too.” You pouted at her teasing. With one final goodbye and a kiss to Oliver’s hair, you left. Damian huffed at the baby, who looked at him before his mug scrunched up, burying his crying face in Talia’s shoulder. The scowl on Damian’s face only got bigger as Jon scolded him for glaring at a baby.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Getting stuck in such a small space with the Immortal was making you crazy, especially as he kept staring at you like a guilty pup. To say you were pissed was- sigh. Your nerves were still up, the League doing jack shit, the legal shit that the whole family was preparing for, and now this. “What?!” You snapped once he opened his mouth and closed it for the hundredth time, interrupting Eve’s and Mark’s shitty dad talk. The Immortal froze, his eyes looking around as everyone in the spaceship looked at them.

Black Samson took pity on him, mouthing “I’m sorry” to the man, pointing to Mark as well. “I- I’m… sorry. For what I said about both of you. It was uncalled for and out of misplaced anger.” Mark smirked at the man, unable to stop the words from coming out. “That sounds like you’ve been to therapy.”

“I have been. What your father did had nothing to do with any of you. You were just the closest thing to getting what I wanted. It was wrong of me to say that you both were ticking bombs. It took a while, but it made me realize that I haven’t been okay since… I’m sorry.” You finally turned from the screens of the spaceship to face the man. “Then you better act like it. Your apology is appreciated, but it’ll mean nothing if you act like we’re the enemy. There are bigger things to worry about.”

While The Immortal walked closer to you and started interrogating Shapesmith, Amanda leaned closer to Mark. “Are you sure they didn’t date?” Her whisper brought the attention of Samson, Bulletproof, and Eve, too, their eyes following how Mark leaned in closer, his smile dropping. “If he did… I’ll kill him.” Invincible brought his easy-going smile back up, moving away into his original position, ignoring the shocked looks. Zandale, despite the look he threw to Mark, brushed his words off as him being an overprotective brother.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” Your voice brought everyone’s attention back to the actual conversation. “Shapesmith...?” The worried tone in Rudy’s voice immediately made you look back at the screens. “Yes, those. Look. Th-Those are the missiles I was talking about.” Mark’s head snaps to the Martian. “Missiles?! Don't we have shields or something”

“This isn't Star Trek. We're unarmed.” Robot furrowed his brows at Mark’s question. “Everyone, close to me. Now!” Eve was quick to act once everyone was in range by creating a bubble around them. You sigh as everyone started talking over each other. “Can’t you teleport us inside?” Monster Girl groaned, making everyone that didn’t know question that. “No. I don’t know how the inside of the ship looks like. I could open a portal in the middle of an army of Martians, in the middle of a- a vat of acid or a garbage disposal-“

“Alright, everyone who can fly push towards the ship. I have a plan.” Eve cuts through, and everyone listens. Changing the atoms on such a delicate scale was quite hard, but walking right in the middle of rebel Martians was a better option than the middle of an acid vat or being immediately crushed and minced to hell.

“I bet the others are having a better day.” Amanda mumbled to you as soon as Zandale crushed the parasite, and the rumbling of the army of mid-controlling jellyfish coming for them could be heard. “Don’t jinx it. Everyone’s luck has been shit lately.” You sigh, preparing for the fight that’s about to come.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Master Bruce?” Alfred turned towards the tired man. “It’s for you- You should hear this.” The butler insisted, handing over the landline phone. Bruce sighed but took it from the old man. “This is Bruce Wayne.” The voice of Damian’s art teacher immediately made Bruce tense, thinking of the worst. The more the woman spoke, the more his worry turned to anger. “Thank you, Miss Jackson. It’s great to hear how much Damian has been missed.” His eye twitched. “And no worries- he’ll be back by next week. Oh- How is the school trip to Chicago going? He’s been muttering about it for a while bit.”

“School trip to- On, no. The poor thing is sicker than I thought. There are no school trips this semester, Mr. Wayne.” Bruce didn’t quite hear what she said after, his grip on the phone almost crushing it. This year was getting worse and worse. “Thank you again, Ms. Jackson. I may just have to take the boy to Chicago myself. He’s been such a good student and kid- he deserves it.”

He kept the act up, dropping his smile only when the call ended. Chicago. His son lied to him, lied to Alfred, lied to the school, to go on his own to Chicago. Why would he? The only thing happening there is-… The only things he could have gone there for are his sister and- … His sister and the Sorceress… The- his… no. There’s no way- Bruce stormed out of his office straight for the Batcave, ignoring Alfred completely. No. There was no way. Is that why she left? No- she couldn’t be-

Bruce almost squished Tim, the young man barely escaping the storming man. Bruce didn’t answer Tim’s questions, his fingers moving across the keyboard faster than they ever did. Age progression photos are subject to error. They are informed predictions, not set in stone stuff- but the more the man worked on it, creating three variations, one more leaning to his features, one leaning towards her mom’s, and the other a mix of them both- the more his heart dropped into his gut.

Once the photos were done, Tim brought up the maskless face of the Sorceress, straight from her social media. “I fucking knew it…” Red Robin growled. “That little demonic brat- He deleted the footage! I knew it!” The young man opened a slightly corrupted file he barely managed to recover, but the image of the Sorceress was as clear as it gets. “Can’t believe the fuckers went through my stuff.”

Bruce dropped into the chair. His child, his daughter, was the Sorceress. The Killer of the Joker. The kid Omni-Man had taken in and probably raised as a soldier. “Damian knew! He knew! That’s why-“ Bruce just sighs. “I know…” He had a lot of phone calls to make. Starting with Jason and the Kents.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can’t hold it-“ Eve’s grunt made you act as quick as you could. “Pots eht setisarap ni emit dna ecaps!” The surge of magic that stopped the parasites, leaving them unmoving, left you slightly drained. You groaned as your feet touched the ground. “Hurry up- that won’t stop them for long.” Bulletproof looked at you, voice shaking as he asked how you did that. “Magic. Keep killing.”

The break gave Eve some time to regain some strength and gave Robot enough time to finish while the others did their best to level the field. “Could you make a shield if the spell you did wears off?” You cringed at the question. “I- maybe? I don’t know any specific spell for them, so I’d have to be quite careful with the wording if I go the on-the-spot route.” You shrug. “Done! Get this close to Russ and then press the button!” Robot held the device above his head, letting go when Mark grabbed it. And just in time for the spell to come undone.

The parasites squealed as the transmission was heard from the main host. “Alright, let’s grab the guy and leave-“ Your groaning was cut short as the Martian leader burst through the doors with his army. “ Halt! You saved us from the sequids, and for that we are grateful.” The alien stated. “Yeah, you're welcome. Uh, look, we got to go-” Mark was interrupted by the leader.“But we cannot permit you to leave with the great betrayer. This is all his doing.” Shapesmith’s eyes met the leader’s. “You must remain here for punishment.” Marks sighs as you groan. “ What kind of punishment?” The answer was simple. Death. Your eyes meet Mark’s. “We understand.” You both said, nodding solemnly... And then you grabbed Amanda and Rudy while Mark grabbed the astronaut and Shapesmith. “Fly!”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The noise of everyone arguing only worsened your headache, your eyes fixating on the screen of the ship… Should be good enough. “ Srekcatta og kcab emoh.” With the spell finalized, the other Martian ships stopped and returned back. “That… works.” The Immortal hummed. “You’re speaking backward. I didn’t catch that before.” Robot turned to look at you. “Yep. It’s a form of magic Zatanna taught me. It’s harder than other forms of magic for me due to actively having to think about it… Zee makes it look so easy.”

“You met the Zatanna Zatara?!” Both Eve and Amanda seemed to geek out at the newfound information. “Yeah, she trains me sometimes. Mainly when John’s too lazy.” You shrug. “Dude, what is your life?” Amanda laughs. “A mess-“ you whined, leaning your head against the closest person.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You slowly entered Talia’s apartment through the open window, immediately being met with the image of an unimpressed Talia, a terrified Jon, a Damian who seemed ready to crash out, and a purple Oliver giggling. “We are so sorry!” Jon jumped in as soon as he saw you. “We swear this just happened- one second he was ok and then he just turned purple-“

“Take a breath, hon’.” You put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “He’s an alien, we’re trying to keep it low profile. The purple is his original color, what you saw before is an illusion. You did nothing wrong.” The teen immediately relaxed. “Oh thank god-“ He slumped down next to Damian. “You look tired.” Talia spoke, moving Oliver higher on her hip. “I am.” You whine making grabby hands at Oliver. “Stay the night. I do not trust you to fly with a baby.” You pouted. “Talia, that’s real kind of you, but-“

“Are you really willing to risk the safety of your little brother?" Damian’s words were met with a half-hearted glare. “He truly is your son. Just as manipulative.” Talia laughed at your words, knowing they’d won this one as soon as you pulled out your phone to let your mom know.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince @swanluver

Chapter 22 sneak peek:

“Jason..?” Roy drawled out softly. “Are you okay? Have you taken too much of Scarecrow's gas, again?” Jason turned his head towards the man, grinning widely. “This may top Joker’s death.” Roy just sat up after processing it for a bit. “Okay… I’ll go get Selina… and maybe Harley too. You just- stay put, okay, buddy?”

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female reader #platonic yandere #yandere mark grayson #yandere nolan grayson

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twice-inamillion · 10 months ago

Text

The Company

New Assistant

Smut (Defloration, first-time sex, deep penetration, creampie, whinging, rough sex, ass spanking, little aftercare, slave contract)

Chapter 17

3975 Words

(It’s time for a new assistant with Irene getting busy with her new girl group. Luckily she has a junior assistant in training that is due for a promotion. As her new boss it is required for you to welcome her and break her in.)

The office has been busy since returning from San Francisco. Multiple meetings with project managers, clients, partner companies, and personal meetings. You previously met with JYP and suggested a survival show with the trainees from his company. He mentioned it would give it a twist when it comes to the creation of a girl group.

At first, you were hesitant, but after much discussion about what it would look like, you decided to get on board. You even considered adding Mina as a contestant since you were confident in her skills.

The only thing remaining would be to inform the trainees about their participation in a survival show, so you and JYP decided to hold a meeting with all the trainees.

The meeting went as you suspected; the trainees were nervous about their participation. The younger trainees saw this as a way to prove themselves and increase their chances of debut, while the older ones voiced their disapproval.

Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and especially Jihyo were angry at JYP for even suggesting the idea after their failed attempts at debut.

Jihyo cries from disappointment, with the other two comforting her, knowing how much they have worked for these past few years.

The meeting ends, leaving a sour taste in your mouth, not knowing how to react. You should have gone with your gut, but it's too late to change your mind, and only for the best outcome.

When you get back to your office, you discuss things with Jieun (IU) and understand the situation. Being closer to them, she has learned a few things and has learned how disappointed 3Mix would be with their recent failed attempt. They assumed that switching companies would have an easier path to debut, especially Jihyo, who has been in training for the longest time among the trainees in the company.

“I can’t back out.”

”I understand, sir, but try to be a bit understanding.”

”I’ll try.

The room is silent; you can feel the tension in the air and ask, “What’s next on the agenda?”

”You have a meeting with Irene to discuss about Miyeon.”

“When is that?

”Later today, it's your last meeting.”

”Thank you.”

———

You hear a knock, “Sir, it’s Irene.”

”Come in.”

”Thank you.” She stands in front of you with folders in her hands, waiting for you to look up at her.

“Take a seat.”

”Yes.”

”Let’s get to the point. How is she doing?”

”At the beginning, she had a bit of an adjustment to her new schedule. She asked a lot of questions but began to pick things up at a reasonable pace. I also made sure she continued her education and decided to pursue higher education.”

”That’s great. Seems like these few months have been good for her.”

”Yes, I tried not to give her so much at the beginning and slowly increased her workload. Now that I’m in my group, she makes my duties easier.”

”Do you think she can take over your duties once you get busier?”

”With the basic stuff, yes. I haven’t even her any sensitive information yet.”

”Let me ask you one thing. Do you think she can be trusted?”

”She hasn’t let me down. So yes, I think she can, but I can't promise she won’t make a mistake.”

”Jieun suggested a contract like the two of you have as assurance.”

Irene looks perplexed about Jieun's suggestion, “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

”No, that’s a great idea. I should have mentioned it sooner.”

In reality, Miyeon has grown on Irene throughout their time together. Hearing about binding her into a contract like the one she is in saddens her as she knows that Miyeon’s freedom will be stripped.

“Here are her files, sir.”

You read over her report, the things she’s helped Irene with, and her newly gained skills as an assistant. You opened her health file and noticed that her birthday was recent, “Oh, she just turned eighteen. How nice.”

Irene clenches her fist, seeing your grin. She understands what you’re thinking and is disgusted by it.

”Yes, I bought her a birthday and a small dinner together.”

”That’s sweet.”

”Thank you, sir.”

You close her file and say, “Thank you for the report. I’ll have IU put together her new contract and set up a health check for Miyeon as soon as possible.”

”Is that really necessary?”

”I would have thought you would be happy. She’ll take over some of your duties unless you want her to?”

”No, I’m grateful,” but she just felt sorry for Miyeon.

”Okay, you can go now.”

Irene exits your office, defeated, and heads to meet her members in the training room.

——-

It’s been a few days since your meeting with Irene, and now Jieun and Irene are meeting with Miyeon.

She’s nervous about the meeting, hoping it's about her effort as a junior assistant.

She is greeted by Jieun and escorted to the conference room you use for private meetings.

“Irene unnie, good morning.”

”Good morning, Miyeon.”

They sit and discuss Miyeon’s position as a junior assistant. It’s most of what you and Irene talked about a few days ago, but now it comes to the main part. Irene mentions that she believes Miyeon can take on a larger role within the company. This makes Miyeon smile and happy about her efforts being looked at after her mistake a few months ago.

“Irene and I would like to consider you for the position of one of the CEO’s personal assistants.”

Miyeon looks surprised and at Irene sitting across from her, “Does that mean that I’ll be working in the same position as you, unnie?”

Irene replies, “Actually, I’ll be taking a small role since I am trying to focus on my group, but you’ll be working closely with Jieun.”

Jieun interrupts and asks, “What do you think? Would you be interested in the position?”

Miyeon immediately replies, “Yes, I’d love that. I want to prove myself to everyone here after my incident a few months back, so I would love to do my share.”

”Great, that’s the sprint,” says Jieun. “We figured you would accept, so I brought up a contract for the meeting. You know, just to make this official.”

”Yes, of course.”

She goes over the contract and covers the position as the CEO’s assistant, as well as some benefits.

”I talked to CEO-nim, and he said that you’ll be getting a biweekly salary and spending money.”

Miyeon looks at the contract and is surprised by the amount, “Oh my god, isn’t that too much?”

”He wants to make sure you’re comfortable.”

”Thank you so much.”

”Of course. Also, this section talks about you moving in with the CEO and assisting in his daily needs, like taking notes, setting up meetings, getting his dry cleaning, making sure he has his meals and other miscellaneous things.”

”Oh, I’ll be living with him?”

She looks at Irene, worried, and Irene responds, “We’ve all done it at one point, mainly at the beginning. Once you get out of your probationary period, you will have the ability to move out to your own apartment like we did.”

“Oh, I get my own apartment?”

“Irene says, “Yes, like the one we live in. The CEO provides it for us.”

”Okay, I’m excited.”

”Down below are some of the perks that come with the job.”

Miyeon looks at the list and is surprised by the amount of perks, each better than the previous one.”

”Where do I sign?”

Irene interrupts, “Wait, we also want to let you know that this job comes with sensitive information, so confidentiality is required.”

”Yes, I understand.”

”Are you sure? Would you like us to give you some time as you read over the contract to make sure that everything is okay?”

Jieun gives Irene a side eye, signaling to not step out of bounds.

She turns the numerous pages and skims over the large letters that talk about job expectations, payment, sickness, insurance, dental, memberships, education opportunities, a termination clause, and other issues that are in fine print.

“Where do I sign?”

Jieun points at the numerous blank spaces that require Miyeon’s signature. After signing about ten pages, she gets to the eleventh page and asks, “I have fully read and understood the content of this agreement. I sign this document entirely of my own accord without any enforcement and accept any consequences if the agreement is violated or broken.

Irene tries to get Miyeon’s attention, but Jieun stops her, allowing Miyeon to give her final signature and stamps her Dojang (family seal) as a signed agreement.

A tear falls from Irene, knowing that Miyeon has sealed her fate as your newest toy. “Unnie, are you crying?”

”Sorry, it's just that…”

”Irene is just happy for you, that's all.”

“Aww, thanks, unnie. I’ll make sure to make you proud.”

Irene feels like she’s about to cry and says, “Oh wow, look at the time. I have another commitment to get to. I’ll take my leave, but Jieun will continue with your onboarding.”

”Thanks again, unnie.”

Irene walks away and exits the room, leaving Jieun and Miyeon alone. Jieun asks Miyeon if she has any questions, and they continue to talk for a while. Most questions are about the role and about the chance to debut in the near future. Jieun replies that anything about her debut is up to the CEO, but she and Irene can answer questions about the job.

Jieun then takes out a folder with Miyeon’s name on the front, “I have your health file right here. It shows that all shots are up to date and have no signs of illness; they are practically healthy.”

”Yes, I take care of myself.”

”It shows.”

Miyeon giggles at the compliment when she hears Jieun ask, “Miyeon, are you still a virgin?”

”Ehh?”

Surprised by the question, she tries to calm herself before answering in a shaky voice, “Ye… yes, I am.”

”Just wondering. Since of your previous mistake.”

There’s a moment of silence, causing Miyeon to feel nervous, but Jieun changes the conversation, “I’ll submit the paperwork today, and your new badge should be ready for tomorrow. Also, begin packing, and I’ll send someone to pick up your items in the morning.

——

Miyeon has spent most of the night packing her belongings. She tried to talk to Irene but never got home. Waking up, she sees a message on her phone from Irene saying that she ended up crashing at her member’s dorm after practice and will see her later today.

Miyeon hears a ring and sees it’s the workers from the moving company. They help take her belongings to the CEO’s condo, where Jieun greets them. She escorts you to your room, which is much bigger than the one she was in previously.

After unpacking the necessities, Miyeon accompanies Jieun to her office, where she gets her new badge and a copy of her job requirements and daily and weekly assignments.

“It’s going to be most of the things you do now, but over time, you’ll be responsible for what’s on the bottom of the list.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Also, this is what a typical schedule for the CEO looks like. Meetings throughout the day, but his mornings and evenings are mostly free, and there are gaps throughout the day.”

Miyeon looks at the schedule and sees an asterisk for the morning and late evenings. “What are the asterisks for?”

“The CEO might need your help in the morning. For the evenings, it’s just helping him after a long day at work.”

“Oh, like a massage?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Oh, okay. I’ve done that before with my appa and eomma.”

“Nice. I’ll show you how it’s done since it’s your first time.”

“Thank you, Jieun unnie.”

“You can go home and unpack. Just meet me in my apartment around dinner. I want to go over some things with you.”

——

Miyeon meets Jieun at her apartment a few hours later. They both enjoy a simple dinner and talk about their personal life when she receives a notification that you arrived back at your condo.

“He’s back from his dinner. Let’s get ready and greet him.” She looks at Miyeon and says, “Come with me. I’ll give you some things to make sure you look presentable for today.”

They exit the elevator and head towards the large doors. Using their pin, they enter the room and hear the shower.

“Seems like he’s showering. Come with me.”

Miyeon follows Jieun to the service room and starts to get undressed. Surprised, Miyeon asks, “What are you doing, unnie?”

“Get undressed, rinse yourself, and put this on,” as Jieun hands her a two-piece bikini.

Jieun looks at Miyeon as she shows a lost expression, “Quickly before he gets out.”

“What are we doing?”

“Service.”

“Ehh?”

She helps Miyeon undress and pulls her to the shower. Miyeon tries to cover herself with her arm but is shocked by the cold water coming from the shower head. Miyeon’s mind goes wild, thinking of what type of service Jieun meant.

After rinsing, they quickly dry themselves and put on their bikini before coming out of the service room.

They see you swimming in your pool, going from one end to the other. Before reaching the sliding door, Jieun pulls Miyeon to the slide and whispers, “Make sure to do whatever he asks. He can be nice, but if you rub him the wrong way, he’ll make your life rough and even ruin your career.”

Miyeon nods nervously and follows Jieun, who slides the door open and walks towards the side of the pool. She waits until your head pops out of the water and waves at you.

“Good evening, sir. I see that you’re enjoying your swim.”

”After a busy day at work, I couldn’t help myself. It’s such a stress reliever.”

”That’s great to hear. I brought Miyeon with me today,” and waves at you to step forward.

”Good evening, sir,” and bows her head.

”I see that Jieun is teaching you properly.”

”Of course. May we join you?”

”Yes”, giving a satisfied smile.

Jieun walks towards the edge of the pool, grabs the rail, and walks into the pool.

You look at Miyeon, who is standing frozen, “Join us.” She nods and follows, walking slowly into the pool. She makes her way to where you two are and is surprised to see your hand on Jieun’s ass.

Jieun giggles and gets closer to you, letting you grip her cheeks, “Nice and firm like always.” Jieun blushes, “I try to work out since you like it so much.”

You look at Miyeon and extend your hand, “Come, don’t be afraid.” Miyeon hesitates but remembers what Jieun said earlier and extends her hand. “Wow, Miyeon, you look great in that bikini.”

”Thank you…” trying to hide her face by tilting down.

Suddenly she feels the touch of your hand on her ass and freezes. “Miyeon, you have such a soft butt.” There is no response, and Jieun speaks up, “I bet she’s happy about your compliment but is too shy to say anything. How about we spice things up a little?" and undoes her bra, letting it float to the top.

You let your hand off of Mieyon’s asscheek and grab Jieun’s waist, pulling her towards you. She wraps her legs around your waist, and you go in for a kiss on her neck. Jieun moans, feeling your lips kiss her neck to her collarbone.

Miyeon remains frozen, seeing you massage Jieun’s breast as you kiss her. She understands now what Jieun meant when she said “service” and realizes what her role as the CEO’s personal assistant meant.

Out of nowhere, Jieun says, “Did you know that Miyeon is a virgin?” Miyeon sees your attention and immediately goes towards her. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, her body was silky smooth as well.”

You put Jieun down, walk towards Mieyon, and say, “Come with me.”

”Where are we going?”

”To the bedroom, of course.”

She looks back at Jieun, who follows behind them. Miyeon asks in a trembling voice, “I don’t want my first time like this.”

Jieun replies, “Remember what I told you earlier. You belong to him now.”

You take Miyeon into the bedroom, drop your shorts, and toss them into the hamper. “Undress, I want to see what I’m going to be working with.”

Miyeon's body trembles at the idea that she’s going to lose her virginity in this manner. She assumed it would be with her boyfriend and a romantic setting, but instead, as your assistant.

You say sternly, “Strip, while I’m being nice.” Miyeon flinches and undoes her bra, dropping it on the floor before moving on to her bottom.

With her completely nude, you circle around and admire her body, small breasts, flat stomach, and pretty face. You get behind her, part her hair to the side, and kiss the side of her neck.

Miyeon closes her eyes, foreign to a male’s touch. She tells herself that she can do it; her dreams of becoming an idol are much bigger, and she is willing to sacrifice her body for a moment that will change her life.

You can see her shiver in fear, like a gazelle that’s about to be eaten by a lion. It turns you on, the feeling of having control of a female. You get closer to her, and she gets startled when you press your body against hers. She feels a thick, hot sensation touching her back and remains frozen.

You whisper in her ear, “I’m going to give you two choices; you can be in control of what happens to you, or I make the choices for you.”

She is at least thankful that she can decide on how she’ll lose her virginity. “I can do it myself.”

“Alright, tell me what you want me to do.”

Miyeon tries to come up with an idea quickly. She looks around and says, “Get on the bed and lay down.”

You agree, head to the large white bed, and lie in the middle of it. She walks and climbs on the bed, sitting next to you.

With no idea what to do, she climbs on your thighs and stares at your cock. It's the first time she's seen a cock, and she is lost on what to do. She turns around and looks at Jieun, who is standing in the corner. “Miyeon, grab it with your hand and stroke it like this. Here, you use this.” With the bottle of lube in her hand she opens it, pours some on your cock, coating it. She uses her right hand, stroking it awkwardly at first. As she continues, it starts to get bigger, which makes her use both hands.

“I don’t think it's going to fit inside of me.”

You respond, “You don’t know until you try,” giving her a smirk. She turns around once more and looks at Jieun, hoping for her to save her. Instead, Jieun replies, “Miyeon, you got this. Hwaiting!”

There’s no way around it; she has a future to think about, and giving her virginity is a small price to pay. That’s what she is trying to make herself believe. It’s the only way she’ll be able to accept what she is about to do.

Miyeon then grabs your cock and lifts herself off. She tries to align your cock to her entrance and is scared by how big it really is compared to her small entrance.

She lowers her body, pressing her lower lips against the mushroom tip of your cock, and stops. Miyeon looks at you with the look of someone who’s accepted her fate and control of her life to you and slowly drops her body.

You feel your tip spread her lower lips, pushing into her virgin hole. She groans, experiencing being stretched this much for the first time. She stops when she reaches her thin barrier and looks at you once more before giving her a hungry smile.

With her hands on your abs, she gives a hard drop; she gasps but immediately bites her lip. “Fuck, you’re so tight!”

There’s no response, only her body trembling as she’s trying to quickly adjust to the pressure. You place your hand on her arm, but she waves you off. She immediately apologizes, “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that I’m trying to get adjusted to your size.”

“Don’t worry, it’s expected.” You touch her arm once more, this time allowing you to embrace her.

“Want me to take over?”

She nods, “Yes.”

You place your hands around her small waist and lift her, pulling her out from her cunt. “Bend over and get on all fours.”

She does as she’s told and places her body on top of the large pillow. She presses her face against it and closes her eyes and she feels you press your cock into her cunt.

“Hmph… hmm…”

She clenches the pillow, feeling your cock stretch her walls. She yelps when you hit the back of her womb, “Wait, wait, you’re breaking me!” You don’t respond and increase thrust inside her. She clenches her hands on the pillow as you use her body for relief. You want to make sure that her body gets used to your cock, especially her womb, since you’re its new owner.

“Does it feel better when I take over?”

There’s no response from Miyeon, so you raise your arm and give her a slight slap on her ass. She yelps and lifts her head, “Ow!”

You increase the pace of your thrust, your balls hitting her flesh, “Fuck, you’re going to be as great as my new toy.” Miyeon just continues to bite onto the pillow, listening to you talk about her position as your new toy.

Before long you’re about to cum and warn Mieyon on your orgasm nearing. “I’m going to cum.” Miyeon lifts her head, her mouth drooling, and pleads, “Please… outside… do it outside…” You scoff and say, “You’re in no position to throw out demands, I’ll cum wherever I want, and I always cum inside.”

Miyeon feels your cock throb and releases a large wave of cum, flooding her walls and womb. “No! So much inside!” Your cum floods her womb to the brim; she can feel her womb getting addicted to your cum and cock, knowing that there is no coming back after this.

Jieun leaves after the second round and is satisfied, knowing she did a good job for her master. You continue to fuck Miyeon, round after round, until she passes out, and even then fuck her until you get your fill.

Miyeon wakes late in the morning completely nude, and her lower body is completely sore. She tries to get up, but any pressure on her legs causes her to tremble and fall back onto the bed.

“Miyeon, it’s me, Irene.”

”Unnie, come in.”

Irene comes inside, sees the mess, and feels sorry for what Miyeon just went through. “How are you feeling?”

”Horrible, I lost my virginity, and my body is completely sore.”

”I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

”Jieun said it was necessary if I wanted the slightest chance to make it in the industry.”

There’s a silence, and Irene breaks the ice and says, “Here, take this.”

”What is it?

”A morning-after pill.”

762 notes · View notes

yslgreen · 1 month ago

Text

The Tides Between Us part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: dbf!Joel x fem!Reader | dbf!Tommy x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Day two of the trip at the Miller's beach House. Joel still avoids you. Tommy keeps finding ways to get closer. Some things are left unsaid, while others are finally starting to come out.

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI (still no smut yet in this chapter, but the next one... ), no outbreak au, no ellie, dbf!joel, dbf!tommy, age gap, no use of y/n, angst and tension, forced proximity, alcohol consumption,

A/N : Thank you so much for all the love on the first part ! Hope you enjoy this one too! I’m almost done with finals, so the next chapter should be out sooner than this one. And yes, there will be smut, I promise. Again, sorry for any typos... Enjoy!

Here on AO3 | Wc : 11 k

You wake up groggy. The night had been anything but restful.

At least it had been dreamless—your mind kind enough not to drag you through it all again. No replays of the way he looked at you. No echoes of his silence. Just hours of tossing under the thin sheets, staring at the ceiling until it blurred.

But even without dreams, there had been no peace. Because from the moment you left the terrace and climbed back into your bed, all you could think about was him.

Joel.

You hated how easily his name slid into your thoughts, like a reflex you couldn’t shake. And worse, you hated what came with it—the ache, the guilt, the quiet hope you couldn’t quite kill no matter how hard you tried.

You sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees. You drag a hand over your face and let out a slow breath. The room is warm with early light, shadows stretching lazily across the floorboards.You can hear the ocean in the distance, the muffled hush of waves folding into the shore. It’s peaceful—but it doesn’t reach you. Not this morning.

You head straight for the bathroom just down the hall from Sarah’s room, your steps quiet in the stillness of the house. The light in there is soft, filtered through a small frosted window, and the tiles are cool beneath your bare feet. You step into the shower, letting the water run hot at first, then cooler—hoping the shift in temperature might shock you into feeling a little more like yourself.

It doesn’t, not really. But at least it helps clear some of the fog from your head.

Back in your room, you towel off briskly and slip into your swimsuit, layering it under a pair of soft, worn-in shorts and a loose t-shirt. You move on autopilot as you pack your beach tote—headphones, sunscreen, sunglasses, a towel, the book you’ve been pretending to read for days. Anything to keep your hands, your mind, busy. At least the beach was still waiting for you. And soon, Sarah. You just had to make it through two more days.

You head downstairs with the bag slung over one shoulder, the quiet hush of the house making your footsteps sound louder than they should. For a moment, you think you might be the first one up. But of course, you’re not.

Joel is in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, a mug cradled loosely in his hand. Coffee, no doubt—black, bitter, the kind you’ve never been able to stomach. He used to chuckle when you tried it, the way your nose scrunched up in distaste. Teasing you as you drowned your own cup in sugar and cream, calling it dessert, not coffee.

“Hi,” you say quietly as you step into the room.

You wonder, too late, if you should’ve pretended you forgot something upstairs, or just ignored him like he seemed to want last night. But a part of you, small and stupid and still stubborn, had hoped maybe the night would’ve cooled something off. That he’d look at you this morning and be… normal again. Familiar. The way he used to be.

Joel stiffens slightly at the sound of your voice, like you caught him off guard. His eyes flick to yours—just for a second—and you see the hesitation there.

He just gives you a nod—barely more than a twitch of his chin. Not even a word. You get the message loud and clear. He doesn’t want to talk to you.

Nothing’s changed.

Joel sets his mug down on the counter with quiet finality, then walks out without a glance back. No simple “mornin’,” no asking how you slept, no teasing comment about your beach bag or what you planned to do with the day. The kind of small, familiar things he always used to say. The ones that used to mean something.

He doesn’t slam the door. Doesn’t raise his voice or say anything cruel. He just leaves—like you’re not even there.

And somehow, that’s worse.

You stand there, rooted in place, heat crawling under your skin—not from shame this time, but frustration. Irritation. If last night hurt, this morning just pisses you off.

Yes, you’d messed up. Yes, he was allowed to be angry, to need space. But this? This cold, clipped silence like you were just some girl in the house he had to tolerate for a week? It stung more than anything he could’ve said.

Fine. He didn’t want to talk about what happened. You got that. But did he really have to pretend like you didn’t exist? Did he really plan to act like this all week?

You sling your bag higher on your shoulder, jaw clenched as you grab a bottle of water from the fridge and a chocolate bar—barely breakfast, but enough to get by. Fuck Joel, you think, slamming the fridge door harder than necessary. If he wanted to act like you didn’t exist, fine. You could do the same.

You don’t look back as you step out of the house and into the morning heat. The sand greets you just a few steps beyond the back deck, warm already beneath your feet, soft and familiar. One of the many luxuries of this place—the kind of beach that felt almost yours. Quiet. Secluded.

Only a few people dot the shoreline: a family further out, laughing as they wade into the water; an older couple tucked beneath a parasol at the opposite end, books in hand, already deep into the morning's peace. You pick a spot not too close to anyone, not too far from the edge of the tide.

You spread your towel, shake it flat, and strip off your clothes in one smooth motion, leaving only the green bikini underneath—your favorite. The sun kisses your skin as you lie on your stomach, sunglasses slipping into place, your headphones tucked in moments later. You thumb through your playlist, landing on something with enough bass to drown out the sound of your own thoughts. Especially the ones that sound like Joel.

You close your eyes and let the music take over, the warmth from the sun slowly loosening the tension coiled in your chest. You try not to think. Not about that night. Not about his cold voice yesterday. Not about the kitchen this morning. Not about how much you used to look forward to this trip just a few days ago.

People come and go around you. You hear them faintly—the distant splash of feet hitting water, kids yelling, the occasional laughter from the couple reading across the way—but you don’t move. You don’t care.

Until a shadow falls over you.

You squint one eye open, blinking against the sunlight, and find a familiar figure standing beside your towel. Tommy. He grins down at you, towel slung over his shoulder, already shirtless and in swim trunks.

“Hey,” he says as he drops his towel and sits down beside you.

You take off your headphones and push yourself up onto your elbows, smiling. “Morning.”

Tommy settles in next to you, his towel brushing lightly against yours as he stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows. He glances sideways at you, squinting a little under the bright sky.

“Didn’t expect you to be out here already,” he says with a smile. "Went to your room and you were already gone."

You shrug, brushing some sand off your arm. "Sorry. Was eager to get here, I guess."

He gives you that familiar grin, warm and a little teasing. "Nothin’ to apologize for. Just surprised is all." He nods toward the water. "You been in yet?”

“Not yet,” you say, glancing toward the waves.

“What’re you waitin’ for?”

You flash him a smile. “Didn’t put on sunscreen yet.”

“Oh, irresponsible,” he teases, shaking his head.

Feeling bolder, your mind flicks back to the conversation you’d had with him the night before. “I was waiting for you,” you say, a little challenge in your tone.

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thought you weren’t a kid.”

“Do I look like a kid?” you shoot back, equally bold.

Tommy lets his eyes drift over you for a beat, quick but deliberate. “Definitely not,” he says with that easy smile before turning back to watch the waves roll in.

You feel your skin warm under his gaze. Tommy’s always been the kind of guy who blurs the line between friendly and flirty—never pushy, always lighthearted. The kind of attention that makes you smile and feel seen without any pressure.

Behind the cover of your sunglasses, you take a moment to really look at him. His dark curls catch the sunlight, and the light flecks across his face stand out more than usual. He looks a little different from the last time you saw him—probably because he’s shaved off that mustache you usually associate with him. You’d always known he was good looking, but today, something about him catches your attention. Maybe it’s the fresh, clean look without the mustache, or the way the sun highlights the lines around his eyes, but suddenly you realise you’ve never really noticed just how handsome he is.

As if he could feel your eyes on him, he looks back at you, a spark of curiosity in his gaze. You don’t look away—instead, you give him a small, confident smile before reaching into your bag and pulling out the sunscreen. Slowly, you start applying it, your fingers careful and deliberate, all under his watchful eyes.

He follows your movements, his gaze tracing the path of your hands as they move across your skin. When you reach just above the line of your bikini, he respectfully looks away, giving you that space.

When you finish your front and shoulders, only your back is left. You hold the bottle out toward him, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Do my back?”

He just nods with a slow smile, and you turn, your back facing him. You hear the gentle press of the bottle as he squeezes sunscreen onto his hands. Then, his hands settle softly on your back.

The cool touch of the sunscreen makes you flinch slightly, but what really catches your attention is the careful way his hands move — gentle, deliberate, tracing the curves of your shoulders and back. His palms press a little, easing tension as he rubs the lotion in, and when his fingers slip just beneath the string of your bikini, you catch your breath. But he doesn’t let his hands linger. They move with respectful care, spreading the sunscreen evenly before pulling away quietly.

“All done,” he says, a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you face him.

“Thank you,” you reply softly, the warmth from his touch still lingering on your skin.“Need me to return the favor?”

He chuckles, a low, easy sound. “Wouldn’t say no to that.”

He turns away from you, giving you a full view of his broad back. His muscles ripple under the sun, clearly shaped by long days spent outdoors. The skin there is slightly tanned, dotted with faint scars and freckles—evidence of a rugged life. Joel’s is broader, you catch yourself making the comparison before quickly pushing the thought aside.

Your hands move carefully, spreading the sunscreen in slow, deliberate circles. You feel him shift slightly beneath your touch, his posture straightening just a little as your fingers work over his shoulders and down his back. Then your fingertips catch on a tight spot, knotted and stubborn.

“Tense?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Just old,” he says, and though you can’t see his face, you know that a smile is there.

You linger a moment longer on the knot, trying to soothe it, your touch gentle but purposeful. The world around you blurs into the steady rhythm of crashing waves and distant seabirds, the only sounds filling the space between you.

It feels strange—being this close, the warmth of his body so near, touching him like this—but not in a bad way. It’s something new, unfamiliar but comforting. At least one of the Miller brothers doesn’t mind having you near.

“All done,” you imitate, your hands finally leaving his back.

He glances over his shoulder with an easy grin. “Appreciate it,” he says, stretching his arms out with a satisfied little groan. “Let’s go for a dip.”

Before you can answer, he’s standing and offering you a hand. You take it, his grip warm and firm as he helps you up off the towel. The two of you walk across the sun-warmed sand toward the water, the light breeze brushing against your skin.

You step into the ocean and let out a soft gasp as the water wraps around your ankles, cooler than you expected. Tommy laughs at your reaction, the sound light and easy.

“It’s not that bad,” he teases as he wades in further.

You follow him, diving in fully with a sharp inhale, the water biting but refreshing. Soon you’re both swimming, drifting through the soft rise and fall of the tide, the sun warm on your faces when you surface.

Between strokes and splashes, Tommy starts talking—filling you in on his life back in Arlington. How running the Miller Contracting branch keeps him busy, how the work’s good and steady, but how it’s not the same as being in Austin. How sometimes he misses home more than he wants to admit.

“I mean, it’s good, y’know?” he says, floating beside you. “But there ain’t nothin’ like being close to your people.”

You nod, treading water beside him.

“That’s why I came back after college,” you say. “The East Coast was… nice. Fast, busy. But I missed my dad. Felt wrong leaving him alone in that big old house.”

Tommy hums in understanding, letting himself drift a little. “Not missin’ California, then?”

You shrug, smiling softly. “I miss parts of it. Some friends, a few spots I used to go to. But most of 'em moved away too. What I really miss is the college life, I guess. Everything felt… easier back then.”

He chuckles, a low sound carried by the breeze. “Yeah, I bet. Fewer bills, more bad decisions. Hard not to miss that.”

You laugh, tilting your head toward the sun. “Exactly.”

There's a small pause before Tommy speaks again. “Hey… you wanna hit a bar tonight? There’s this little spot down the beach—DJ’s terrible, but the beer’s cheap and cold.”

You glance at him, one brow raised. You laugh softly, wiping water from your face. “Not sure that’s the kind of place my dad and… Joel would be into.” you say, the words casual, but Joel’s mention catches on your tongue like a splinter. You push the thought away just as quickly as it comes, flashing Tommy a smile to cover it.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, amused. “So what? We’ll go, just the two of us. Let the old men stay home.”

You smirk. “Love how you decided you weren’t one of the old men yourself.”

He chuckles, swimming a little closer, the sun catching in his eyes. “You only get old when you decide you are,” he says, that easy Southern charm curling around his words. “And I ain’t made that decision yet.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself.

“Come on,” he adds, voice dipping a little lower, more sincere now. “Just you and me. Couple drinks, somethin’ simple. A little music, a little beer. Celebrate this trip the right way.”

It’s tempting—the idea of spending the night sharing drinks with Tommy, letting the hours slip by with his jokes and that warm, familiar laugh. Being around him feels effortless. No tension, no unspoken things hanging in the air. Just simple, easy company. And right now, you need easy more than anything.

“Sure,” you say, and the way his smile widens at your answer makes something loosen in your chest.

The two of you linger in the water a little longer, drifting through light conversation. Easy banter about movies, food, work. The kind of talk that doesn’t demand anything,

Eventually, you both make your way back to the towels, still damp, hair dripping, the sand clinging stubbornly to your skin. Tommy flops down with a sigh, hands folded behind his head, eyes closed as he lets the sun soak into him. You settle beside him, pulling your book from your bag, pretending to read while your eyes skim over the words without really absorbing them.

The silence between you is comfortable—unspoken, but not heavy. The kind that settles naturally between people who don’t feel the need to fill every second with noise. Every now and then, he lets out a quiet hum, shifting slightly to stretch a leg or adjust the towel under his head.

After a while, you turn a page you haven't really read and glance over at him. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You find yourself watching him a little longer than you should, before quickly tearing your gaze away.

But your mind wanders, wondering why the Miller brothers have this strange way of making you feel so aware of them—sometimes without even realizing it. Joel comes to mind, and despite everything, a small, stubborn part of you wishes he were here beside you now. You know you shouldn’t. His coldness still cuts, and his attitude this morning still lingers like a bruise. But old habits die hard, and you’re so used to wanting him close that letting go feels impossible. Yet, deep down, you know that very feeling is exactly why he isn’t here right now.

The memory of that night sneaks back in, uninvited. What do you think you’re doing? Joel’s voice echoes sharply in your mind. You blink hard, pushing the thought away, letting the sun’s warmth soak into your skin—too bright, too comforting—to dwell on anything so frustrating.

Tommy shifts beside you, breaking the silence. “Alright, I reckon it’s time to grab some food,” he says, standing up and stretching. You nod gratefully, realizing the chocolate bar you’d stashed in your bag probably melted hours ago.

“Sounds good,” you say, the hunger finally settling in your stomach. Together, you gather your things and make your way back toward the house. It’s quiet inside—too quiet. Even though your dad likes to sleep in, he should be up by now.

“Where is everyone?” you ask, glancing around.

“They headed out to golf earlier, before I left,” Tommy says, shrugging. “They’re probably still at it.”

Golfing? Joel has always hated golf. You remember the first time your dad managed to drag him along to a game—Joel reluctantly agreed, probably just to keep the peace. But it quickly became clear that the sport wasn’t for him. He never had the patience for the slow pace, the endless waiting between shots, or the constant small talk with strangers in polo shirts. After that, he was always finding some excuse to skip the next invitation, and it used to make you laugh how the excuses became less and less creative. From him having a sudden cold, even though he was hardly ever sick, to him having too much work even on Sundays. Eventually, the excuses didn’t even sound convincing anymore.

If Joel was out golfing today, you knew it wasn’t to please your father. It was about being anywhere but here—anywhere but around you.

Fuck him.

Tommy opens the fridge, offering to whip up a salad, but both of you quickly agree that reheating some leftover pizza sounds way better. You carried your slices out to the terrace, settling into the comfortable lounge chairs as the sun shone bright above you.

After the quick lunch, the afternoon slips away peacefully and unhurriedly. You moved down to the poolside with your book, dipping your feet into the cool water before finally deciding to wade in when the sun made your skin feel too warm. It's a lazy afternoon.

From time to time, you glance back toward the house. Tommy is inside for most of the afternoon, not quite fully on vacation as he’d admitted earlier. You watch him pacing the living room, phone pressed to his ear, juggling work calls and hammering out plans and contracts.

You’re half asleep on one of the lounge chairs, working on your tan, when you hear your dad’s voice drifting from inside. He’s talking to Tommy, teasing him about Joel’s golf game—how he’s supposedly getting better if only he’d come around more often. Moments later, your dad steps out onto the terrace, spotting you immediately.

“How’s my favorite kid doing?” he asks with a grin, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

You smile, turning your head toward him. “Still your only one,” you reply lightly. “I’m good. How was golf?”

As your dad talks, you catch a glimpse of Joel’s silhouette behind him, watching you. Maybe it’s the angle, or the shade of your sunglasses, but you’re certain he thinks you don’t notice. Yet, you’re too aware of him to look away. You feel his eyes travel over you in your bikini—quick, almost subtle—but it sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps rise on your skin at the heat of his gaze.

Before you can say anything, he turns away, disappearing back into the house and leaving you to nod along distractedly as your dad rambles on about the game. You try to focus on what he's saying, but your mind keeps drifting. Of course it does. Because no matter how hard you try, Joel is always there. Taking up space in your thoughts like he belongs there.

Dinner rolls around, and the four of you gather at the table. Thankfully, your dad is in a chatty mood, more than happy to carry the conversation himself. He talks about the golf course, his latest projects, and how he’s decided he has to get to the beach tomorrow as soon as he wakes up. You mostly just listen, your responses brief. Joel stays quiet too, only chiming in when directly addressed, and even then, only barely.

When dinner wraps up, you slip away from the table and retreat to your room to prepare for your night out. As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, Joel's voice drifts up the stairs—clearer now, warmer, more alive. He's laughing at something Tommy says, tossing in his own comments with the kind of ease he hadn’t shown once when you were in the room. Of course. He waits until you’re gone to come alive. It shouldn't bother you. It does anyway.

You take your time getting ready. The hot water rinses away the day—salt, sand, and irritation—until you feel a little more like yourself again. You take your time drying off, smoothing lotion into sun-warmed skin, and blow-drying your hair, not ready to tempt a summer cold with damp strands and a coastal breeze. You tug on the first sundress that catches your eye. Blue, light and soft, something you’ve always liked. Only when you’re slipping your feet into your shoes do you realize it’s that dress. The same one you wore that night.

You pause in front of the mirror. It isn’t intentional. But now that you’re looking at yourself, there’s a flicker of satisfaction under the nerves. It’s a good dress after all. You hesitate, just for a second, wondering if it’s too much, or not enough… for what’s supposed to be a casual drink with Tommy. But you don’t change.

After putting on some light makeup and perfume,you slip your phone and wallet into a small bag and head downstairs. Joel and your dad are still at the table, sipping the dregs of their drinks, and the second you walk in, both men look up.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” your dad says with a grin. “You headin’ out somewhere?”

Before you can answer, you feel Joel’s gaze on you. His eyes land on you, and you see something flash in them before he can hide it. The way his gaze slowly drags down the length of you. He takes in the dress, your bare shoulders, the way the fabric curves around your waist. His eyes darken for half a second, and you can see the moment he realizes it.

He remembers that dress too.

Your gazes lock. It only lasts a second, maybe two. But it’s enough. You see the flicker of recognition, the tightness in his jaw, the way he looks away too quickly like like his mind has been forced back to that night whether he wants it or not.

He says nothing, of course. Joel Miller, man of few damn words those past days. But you don’t need him to say anything to know what’s going through his mind. You didn’t mean to wear the exact same dress. But now that you have?

You're not exactly sorry.

“Going out with Tommy,” you say with an easy smile to your dad, glancing around. “Where is he, by the way?”

Your dad opens his mouth to answer, but before he can get a word out, a familiar arm slides casually around your shoulders.

“Right here,” Tommy says, grinning down at you. “You ready?”

Your dad raises a brow, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. “And where exactly are you takin’ my daughter, Tommy?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice, though the dad-scoff is unmistakable.

Tommy gasps dramatically, turning to you with mock betrayal. “Oh my god—you didn’t tell him?” He looks back at your dad, expression deadpan. “Don’t worry. We’re just on our way to Vegas. Figured we’d elope, get hitched real quick. Classy drive-thru chapel.”

“Maybe an Elvis officiant if we’re lucky,” you add smoothly, and Tommy lights up, clearly pleased at how easily you’re keeping up the bit.

Your dad groans, leaning back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face like it’s physically painful to listen. “You two are insufferable,” he mutters—but the smile tugging at his mouth betrays him.

You and Tommy exchange a quick grin before he adds, more genuinely, “Just a drink down the beach. Nothin’ scandalous, promise.”

Your dad points between himself and Joel. “And we’re not invited?” You glance at the other man, who’s watching silently, eyes flickering away when they meet yours.

Tommy shrugs, casual. “Didn’t think y’all would want to hang out with the youth tonight.”

Your dad huffs. “You ain’t been ‘youth’ in twenty years, son.”

Tommy raises his brows. “You’re welcome to come, but it’s loud music, some kind of DJ, bad lighting, and beers under five bucks. Not the good kind. I didn’t wanna subject you fine gentlemen to that kind of nonsense.”

Your dad chuckles, already shaking his head like he knows he’s not setting foot anywhere near it.

“And I figured I’d catch up with my favorite some more,” he adds, giving you a quick, exaggerated squeeze.

Joel finally speaks. “Your favorite huh ?” He doesn’t look at either of you when he says it—just lifts his beer and leans back, eyes on the table like it isn’t personal. But it is. You can hear it in the way he says it.

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat. “Sorry, brother. Gotta earn the title. She actually laughs at my jokes.”

And for a second—just a second—you think Joel might say something else. His eyes flicker over you again, but he just leans more in his chair with a sigh, gaze drifting elsewhere.

Tommy claps once. “Alright, it’s settled. We’ll suffer through the bar so you guys don’t have to.”

You smooth a hand down your dress. “Don’t wait up,” you say, mostly for your dad’s sake.

“Wasn’t planning to,” he replies with a smile, but there’s a glint of protective warning in his voice as he adds, “Be safe. Take care of my girl, Tommy.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anythin’ less.”

You grab your bag, shooting your dad a quick smile. as you and Tommy head for the door, Behind you, Joel stays silent, his fingers drumming once against the table. You don’t turn around. You don’t give him the satisfaction.

Still, as the door closes behind you, you can feel his eyes on your back, following you into the night.

The bar is exactly as bad as Tommy promised. It’s only a ten-minute walk from the house, but it feels like another world. The dim lights flicker over sticky floors, and the DJ spins songs that should have been retired years ago. You love the place instantly. The bar is packed, mostly with people closer to your age than his, not that Tommy seems to care. He navigates the crowd effortlessly, throwing smiles and nods like he owns the place.

Somehow, even though this is the first time you and Tommy have gone out drinking just the two of you, it feels easy, like you’ve done this a dozen times before. Maybe it’s because most of your interactions over the years have been at birthdays, family barbecues, or parties where you’d inevitably end up next to each other, trying to outdrink one another for sport.

You order the most suspiciously colorful cocktail on the menu while he sticks to a beer. Before you can even reach for your wallet, he’s already tapping his card.

“Never let a pretty girl pay for her own drink,” he says with a grin, like it’s not even up for debate.

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. When your drink arrives, bright pink with a little umbrella sticking out, he snorts, clearly amused. Still, he doesn’t hesitate when you offer him a sip.

“What the hell is in this?” he asks, eyebrows raised after tasting it.

“No idea. Its perfect.”

He laughs and passes you his beer. One sip explains the price tag.

“Wow,” you say, wincing. “That tastes like it was brewed in a basement. During prohibition.”

Tommy chuckles. “Didn’t remember ‘em being that bad.”

You find yourself thinking, without meaning to, Joel would’ve hated this place. He would’ve called the drink an insult to the word beer and gone straight for the whiskey, something neat and respectable. He would’ve scowled at the volume, the lights, the crowd, and spent the night checking his watch. Still, you would have spend a great evening, just because he would have been there. You shake your head, trying to make the thought go away when Tommy suddenly speaks.

“So, what’s going on between you and my brother?”

You nearly choke on your drink, shooting him a sharp look. You weren’t expecting this.

“What do you mean?” you say, playing innocent like you have no clue what he’s talking about.

“Why y’all givin’ each other the cold shoulder ?” His tone is steady, no teasing, just genuine concern.

Of course he noticed. Everyone knows how well you usually get along with Joel — so it’s no surprise his brother picked up on the silence between you two. Did your dad notice too? Bless him, he’s never been the most observant.

You shift uncomfortably. “We’re not,” you say quickly, eager to steer the conversation away.

“Yeah, right. C’mon, what happened?”

Tommy’s eyes don’t waver. You realize he’s not going to let it go. You shift uncomfortably against the bar, your gaze drifting toward the crowd dancing in front of you, the flashing lights and loud music suddenly feeling distant.

“We just…” You hesitate, unsure what to say—definitely not the truth. “We got into an argument.”

“You two fight all the time.” His voice is calm, matter-of-fact. And it’s true—Joel and you had always loved to bicker about everything, but it was always in good fun, never like this. “Must have been bad.”

You take a deep breath. “Well, yeah. He picked me up the other night. I was drunk. I… said things I shouldn’t have.”

Did something you shouldn’t have.

Tommy stays quiet, doesn't pry, and waits for you to continue.

“It was stupid,” you say quickly, forcing a small smile. “Shouldn’t have happened. I just… I need to find the right moment to apologize, I guess.”

And you do mean it—if only Joel weren’t being so impossibly difficult. He hadn’t given you a single opportunity to be alone with him, to say what needed to be said. You just wanted to put that night behind you.

“My brother’s mad at you over something stupid?” Tommy says finally, a skeptical edge creeping into his voice. “Must’ve really outdone yourself.”

You let out a soft huff of laughter. If only he knew.

“You know me. I never really know when to stop myself.”

Tommy takes a drink, then shrugs. “That’s what makes you fun. Keeps the rest of us on our toes.”

“Your brother doesn’t seem to agree,”

Tommy just shrugs, raising his beer in a faux toast. “Well, I ain’t Joel.”

You pause, smile pulling at the corner of your lips despite yourself, because that’s exactly the point.

Soon enough, the conversation drifts back to lighter territory. Jokes, old memories, and harmless gossip about your coworkers. The kind of talk that makes it easy to forget anything else. Tommy insists on paying for another round, and this time, when you order another questionable cocktail with a ridiculous name, he raises a brow… and matches you.

“I’ll regret this in the morning,” he mutters, eyeing the electric blue drink the bartender slides his way.

“Already regretting it,” you reply, taking a sip of your own red cocktail and wincing. “What is this?”

“No clue. Battery acid with a splash of fruit punch?”

You both laugh, trading glasses to compare. It quickly becomes a game—passing drinks back and forth, trying to guess the ingredients, debating whether you should be impressed or concerned. Before Tommy can stop you, you’ve flagged the bartender down and paid for a round of shots.

“At least I know what’s in these,” you say, lining them up.

He chuckles, mock-scolding. “You’re trouble.”

The two of you knock them back, grimacing in unison just as the DJ finally plays something you actually like. The beat pulses through the room, louder, more infectious than the rest, and before you even realize it, your hips are already swaying to the rhythm.

Tommy watches you for a moment, amused, then steps closer and holds out his hand.

“Can’t let the prettiest girl in here dance all by herself,” he says, that charming, easy smile curling on his lips.

You take his hand with a smirk, eyebrows raised. “You call me pretty a lot, Miller.”

He pulls you closer, still smiling. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

You shouldn't feel your cheeks warm at that. Tommy's always been generous with compliments, you’re used to it. But the way he says it this time, low and easy and without a trace of teasing, makes something in your chest flicker, your skin prickling with heat.

He leads you toward the dance floor, weaving through the crowd until you find a pocket of space that doesn’t require elbowing strangers just to move. The music is loud, the beat infectious, and the two of you fall into rhythm without even trying. You move together like it’s second nature, you shout the lyrics together, laughing when you mess them up.

Tommy spins you once, and you stumble back into him, breathless from laughing. He steadies you with a hand on your waist, grinning.

And when the song fades into something slower, softer—music meant for leaning close instead of shouting over—you instinctively take a step back. But before you can fully retreat, Tommy catches your hand again and gently tugs you toward him. His hand finds your waist again, warm and steady. Yours wrap around his neck without thinking, the movement smooth and familiar—like this isn’t the first time you’ve stood this close. Like it’s not strange at all to be holding him like this, bodies close enough for for you to feel the heat radiating off him.

And maybe it’s the music or the drinks or the way he looks at you - but you’re suddenly not thinking about Joel anymore.

Right now, all you can think about is the man standing in front of you, guiding you through the slow rhythm like you’re the only two people in the bar.

Tommy doesn’t look away—not once. His eyes stay on you, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s memorizing something. His hand is warm against your waist, steady. Then, slowly, his right hand lifts, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long against your skin. His thumb grazes your cheek, light but sure, and your breath hitches at the touch.

His gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth, and you know he’s thinking about it. Because you are too. You want to lean in, to close that tiny, tempting distance between you. You want to know what his lips feel like against yours.

But then, like a sudden splash of cold water, Joel’s sharp gaze flashes through your mind. You can’t cross that line. Because some mistakes, you know, are too familiar to make twice.You can’t—won’t—make that same mistake with both brothers.

You shift just enough to create a little distance, to catch your breath and steady your racing heart. Tommy notices immediately. He doesn’t pull away, but his hand slides back to your waist, still holding you, but with a softer, more understanding smile.

When the music fades out, the silence feels a little heavy, and you’re not quite sure what to say. You and Tommy drift naturally away from the dance floor, weaving back through the crowd toward the bar.

“Tommy—”

He cuts you off gently, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t have to say anything.”

But you do want to say something. You just don’t know how to explain it. You hesitate, searching for the right words, but his smile quiets your voice before it can find its way out.

“Hey,” he says softly, resting a hand briefly on your arm, “look, I get it — we’re both a little drunk, I probably misread something. It happens.”

You shake your head slightly. “You didn’t misread anything.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Really? I didn’t?”

“Just… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Too old for you?”

You laugh a little, shaking your head.

“Hey, I know I might not be in my prime, but I don’t think I’m that bad looking,” he says, mockingly wounded.

“You are definitely good looking,” you say before you can stop yourself. He smiles at that, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I don’t care about you being older,” you continue, voice softer now. “But it’s not just me. It’s Sarah, it’s my dad… it’s—”

You pause. Joel.

“It’s just too complicated,” you finally finish.

“I get it,” he says simply, and you know he does. “So… we’re okay then?”

“Of course we are.”

He just smiles, and it’s enough. It almost feels too easy with Tommy. There’s no tension, no awkward silences to fill. Conversation flows back as naturally as the laughter does. You both decide on one last drink before heading back, and he still refuses to let you pay.

You try to argue, but he throws you a grin and says, “Don’t ruin my chivalry streak now.”

You laugh the whole way home, mostly because of something ridiculous Tommy said about the DJ and his “impeccable taste in late-stage regret anthems.” It’s stupid, and exaggerated, and exactly what you need.

By the time you get back to the house, you’re still giggling, both of you whisper-laughing as if you might wake someone, even though the night is quiet. The porch light is soft, the air warm. Neither of you quite wants to go in just yet, so you settle by the pool, shoes kicked off, your legs dangling in the cool water. You talk some more, about nothing and everything.

Eventually, after one last debate about his favorite movie, he stands, stretching with a quiet groan. “Alright, I'd better call it. If I stay out here any longer, I’ll end up falling asleep on one of these chairs.”

You look up at him, nodding. “Thanks for tonight.”

You smile, tilting your head up as he steps closer. He presses a gentle kiss to your hair. “Night, pretty girl.”

“Goodnight, Tommy,” you say softly, watching as he disappears back inside.

You stay a while longer, letting the quiet settle in around you as the buzz from the bar slips into something gentler, more distant. The night air is cool against your skin, and before you’ve really thought it through, you’re slipping out of your dress, letting it fall beside you before easing down into the pool in your underwear.

The water is colder than you expect. It makes you gasp, a small shiver rolling through your limbs as your body adjusts. Of course it’s cold, the sun’s been down for hours, but still, it feels good. You float on your back, arms spread wide, eyes fixed on the sky above. The stars are impossibly bright out here—so much clearer than in Austin, where the city lights dull everything to a tired gray. Out here, they pulse with quiet life.

For a moment, you close your eyes. Let your body drift. Then, with a breath, you slip under the surface completely. The silence is instant, wrapping around you like a second skin. You stay there, weightless, grounded only by the cool pressure of the water. Then you do it again, this time sinking down farther until your feet touch the bottom. You settle, the blue-tinted world oddly peaceful, and close your eyes.

You used to do this with Sarah all the time—have contests to see who could stay down the longest. She’d win, every time, her grin wide and wild when you popped up gasping for air. You don’t even have time to wonder if you’d finally beat her this summer—

—when strong arms grab you without warning, yanking you up in one smooth motion.

You break the surface with a gasp, flailing instinctively as water runs down your face. Before you can register anything else, a voice snaps at you, sharp and alarmed:

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You blink the water out of your eyes—and find Joel standing close to you in the shallow end, fully dressed, soaked. His jaw is tight, brows drawn, eyes burning into yours like you’ve just given him a heart attack. His hands are still around your waist, holding you steady above the surface, chest heaving.

You stare at him, too stunned to speak.

“What the fuck,” he says again, quieter now, like he doesn’t trust his own voice. “You were just… sittin’ down there. Jesus.”

You blink, sputtering slightly, trying to make sense of what just happened. His face is close—too close—and wet now too, droplets running from his hairline down his jaw. He’s in a T-shirt and jeans, both soaked through, clinging to his frame, and you realize with a jolt he must’ve jumped in after you.

“I—I was fine,” you manage, breathless.

He doesn’t let go right away. “You weren’t movin’.”

“I was holding my breath,” you say, pulling back just enough to tread water on your own. His hands drop from your waist , but the look on his face doesn’t soften. His brow is still furrowed, mouth set in a hard line.

“In the dark? Alone?”

You’re trying to be patient, trying to remind yourself that this is Joel, and Joel worries in ways that look a lot like anger. Still, your pulse is racing, and not just from the cold. “I wasn’t trying to drown myself, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s not funny,” he snaps, then scrubs a hand down his soaked face, water flicking off his fingers. He looks furious. Or terrified. Maybe both.

“You didn’t have to jump in after me.”

“You weren’t answerin’. I called your name three times.”

You hadn’t heard him. Underwater, everything goes quiet. Peaceful.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, and this time you mean it. Not for being in the pool—but for the fear that clearly rattled him

Joel doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at you, water dripping from his hair, clinging to his lashes. Then his eyes flick downward—just for a second—but it’s long enough for both of you to remember you’re standing there in nothing but your soaked underwear.

You cross your arms over your chest on instinct, suddenly aware of how the light fabric hugs every inch of your skin. His gaze jerks away almost immediately, jaw tightening as if he’s mad at himself for even looking.

Without a word, he turns and swims to the edge of the pool, climbing out with slow, heavy steps. His clothes cling to him, water dripping off him with every movement, and under different circumstances you might’ve laughed—he looks like a pissed-off cat that fell in by accident.

But now isn’t the moment.

“Where’s Tommy?” he asks, still not looking at you, peeling off his soaked T-shirt with one rough tug. You catch yourself glancing—only for a moment.

“He went to bed not that long ago,” you say, trying for lightness, maybe even a smile. “Guess he can’t hold his liquor. We drank a bit too much, I suppose.”

Joel shoots you a look then—one that’s hard to read but heavy all the same. His brow lifts, the corners of his mouth tightening just slightly. You can tell he’s trying to keep his expression neutral, but you’ve known him long enough to catch the judgment behind his silence.

“Of course you did,” he says, his voice low and just a little too sharp. Condescending in a way that immediately irritates you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” he says, eyes locked onto yours now. Serious. Unflinching. “You never make good decisions when you’re drunk.”

And just like that, you’re not standing in a pool anymore. You're back in that moment, three nights ago.

Joel smiles when he sees you crossing the gravel lot, headlights from the bar casting a soft halo around your silhouette. His posture is easy—one shoulder against the truck, arms crossed, like he’s been waiting a while but didn’t mind.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice warm, familiar. Steady in the kind of way that always made you feel a little safer than you should.

You try to mirror his calm, but your words come out a bit uneven. “Hey, Joel.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, not quite laughing at you, just amused—gentle. “You sound like you had yourself a night.”

“Too good,” you admit, brushing your hair back as you stop in front of him. The buzz is still heavy in your veins, but standing this close to him cuts through some of the haze.

He just shakes his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only that same patient look he always gives you—like he’s used to this, like nothing you do could ever surprise him anymore. You would prove him wrong quick enough.

Without a word, he reaches past you and opens the passenger door.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you home.”

You climb into the car, the familiar scent of his truck already wrapping around you—faint soap, leather, the kind of warmth that clings to someone who’s always outside. The door shuts behind you with a solid thunk.

Joel slides into the driver’s seat a moment later. The engine rumbles to life, and the cab fills with that soft mechanical hum, broken only by the click of the A/C. He glances over, just briefly—but you're already looking at him.

You can’t help it. You never really can. Your eyes trace over his features like it’s habit by now—the worn edges of him you’ve memorized without meaning to. The strong curve of his jaw, the faint lines that deepen when he’s amused, that salt-and-pepper hair that somehow makes him look even better than he probably did in his thirties. It suits him, all of it.

“You okay?” he asks when you're still looking at him after a few seconds, adjusting the rearview mirror without taking his eyes off the road ahead.

You nod, slow and soft, your head leaning back against the seat. “Yeah. Just… tired. Thanks for picking me up.”

“You shouldn’t drink so much, sweetheart,” he says, not unkind—more like a reminder. Soft, almost resigned. Like he’s said it before and will say it again, no matter how many times you ignore it.

You glance over at him, and your smile comes crooked, loose from the alcohol. “Then stop showing up to drive me home. Makes it too easy.”

Joel raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Smartass. And how exactly would you get home, huh?”

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. “Catch a ride from someone.”

“Someone as drunk as you?” he fires back without missing a beat.

You roll your eyes dramatically, leaning your head back against the seat. “Okay, fine. I could’ve ordered an Uber.”

Joel snorts. “Right. And pay more for that ride than you did for all your drinks? Yeah, that sounds real smart.”

“I could’ve called my dad,” you suggest with a shrug, trying to sound casual.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “And wake him up from his beauty sleep? C’mon, you know how that goes.”

You laugh, tipping your head to look at him. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“That’s ‘cause you’ve never had a good plan,” Joel teases, glancing over just long enough to catch your grin.

You shoot him a quick smile. “That’s because you’re my plan.” You let the words linger, the meaning of them a little too familiar, but it feels easy. It always feels easy with him.

It’s not even a lie—Joel is always your plan. He’s the first name you type out when the night winds down and the drinks hit harder than expected. You don’t even think about the other options anymore; they’re an afterthought. Because you know he’ll respond. You both know the routine: One text. That’s all it ever takes. And without fail, he replies within minutes. On my way, text me the address. Every. Single. Time. You should feel bad about it. And sometimes, you do, but that guilt is quickly swept away when you step outside into the quiet of the night and see him already there, leaning against his truck, looking far too good for the hour. Hair tousled, flannel sleeves pushed up, that unreadable expression on his face until his eyes find yours. Knowing he’s here for you—and only you—has a way of making the guilt disappear completely.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Did I wake you up from your own beauty sleep?” you ask with a smirk.

Joel doesn’t miss a beat. “Wasn’t sleeping,” he mutters, his eyes focused on the road.

“Why not?”

He shoots you a look, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “Knew you’d text me,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Sometimes, you wonder if he realises what those simple words mean to you—the way he always knows exactly what to say. It’s not even a question— picking you up, making sure you get home, hearing your voice slur through a tired “thank you” each time is just what he does. No second thoughts. No hesitation. Like taking care of you has always been written into his bones. It’s unfair, really, how casually he implies it. But then again, Joel is always unfair.

Unfair how good he looks for someone twice your age, like time has only made him sharper, more rugged, somehow. Unfair how his flannel looks effortlessly perfect on him, hugging his frame just right. Unfair how he’s your dad's best friend, a constant reminder of what you can’t have.The man who’s been around for years. The man you were never supposed to look at like this. Want like this. But God, when he smiles—when his lips tilt up in that easy, crooked way—it makes your stomach flip and your pulse trip over itself.

After a while, the truck rolls to a stop in front of your house, and for a moment, you hesitate. You don’t want to leave the comfort of the ride. You don’t want to leave him.

The engine cuts off, the soft hum of it fading as Joel shifts in his seat. He turns to you, his gaze softening. “Alright, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You’re home.”

Sweetheart. He always calls you that. And every time, it settles deep in your chest in a way you can't explain. You like it more than you should. Something about the way his southern drawl rolls the word off his tongue, like it’s meant only for you, makes you ache a little. A small, quiet longing blooms in your chest. You wish you could steal the word from his lips, hold onto it like a treasure.

You nod, your chest a little tight as you gather yourself, your thoughts swirling faster than they should. You open the door and slide out of the truck, stumbling slightly as your feet hit the ground. The alcohol still lingers in your system, making everything feel a little off-balance, the world a bit too fuzzy.

Joel’s door opens a moment later, and without missing a beat, his hand is at your back, steadying you. The warmth of his touch instantly grounds you, firm and reassuring. You don’t realize how much you’ve been swaying until his hand is there, steadying you with that quiet, solid presence of his.

“Easy there,” he murmurs, his voice low, gentle but firm, as he nudges you toward your house. His hand stays at your back, lingering there.

You can’t stop the thought that crosses your mind. His hand is just a little lower than it should be, resting against the curve of your lower back. And the warmth from his palm spreads like heat through your body. You wish—God, you wish—his hand would slip just a little lower, trace the line of your waist, your hip. You force your mind to focus, but it’s harder than it should be. There’s a knot in your chest, a twisting feeling that you don’t know how to handle. You’re drunk, too drunk, and that only makes everything he does to you stand out more.

He lets go of you just before your door, his hand pulling away almost reluctantly like it doesn’t want to leave you yet. You fumble with the keys, your fingers uncoordinated, and it takes you twice as long as it should to unlock the door. The sound of a soft chuckle from behind you breaks through the fog in your head, and you look up to see Joel watching you, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Stop laughing,” you say, unable to keep the smile tugging at your lips, your voice soft and a little breathless.

He doesn’t respond right away, just gives a small shake of his head, like he’s trying not to grin. Like he’s seen this scene play out too many times, and somehow still finds it endearing.

You push the door open and glance back at him. “Thanks, Joel.” The words come out quieter than you intend.

“My pleasure,” he replies, his voice low and gravelly,

Joel watches you for a heartbeat, his eyes unreadable in the dim porch light, like he’s weighing something—deciding, maybe. Then, without a word, he steps forward, closing the space between you. His hand lifts, just a brush of his fingers against your arm, light and almost hesitant, but then his lips press gently to your cheek.

It’s a simple kiss. Soft. Fleeting. But it lands like a spark, catching you off guard. For a second, the world outside of this moment fades away, and all that’s left is the warmth of his lips on your skin, the slow pull of the air between you. He doesn’t do that—not usually. But somehow, it feels so natural, so right. His lips on your skin sear into you, a soft burn that lingers far longer than the touch itself. And when he pulls away, you feel it. A coldness. A distance. Something inside you already aching for the warmth he left behind.

Without thinking—because if you had, if your mind wasn’t still clouded by the alcohol swirling through your veins, you would have known it was a terrible idea—but Joel was too close and too far away at the same time. And so, before he could step back any further, your hand found the collar of his flannel, and you pulled him toward you. Without hesitation, you crashed your lips into his.

You had imagined this. You’d fantasized about it in the quiet, lonely moments when you tried to convince yourself it was just a passing thought. You’d played it out in your mind more times than you cared to admit, because this was Joel, and Joel had always been out of reach. But not now. Not when you pressed your lips against his, feeling the heat of him, the closeness you’d craved for so long.

For a fleeting moment, you almost feel him respond—his lips parting, just for a second—before he pulls away. It happens so quickly, too fast for you to even process, and as his warmth disappears, a flood of panic takes its place. You blink, struggling to catch your breath, but the guilt and fear hit before you can fully comprehend what’s just happened. You look at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and in that instant, you know—you know you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes, and you can see it all there. The disbelief, the confusion, the disappointment. His expression is like a punch to the gut, and you can feel your chest tighten as you try to figure out how to fix this, how to undo it.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice cuts through the heavy silence like ice, cold and unfamiliar. It sends a shiver down your spine, and it makes your heart drop into your stomach.

Your mouth opens to explain, to apologize, but no words come out. You just stare at him, throat tight, unable to form a single sentence. You reach for him instinctively. "Joel..." you whisper, but he takes a step back, his posture now rigid, as if you’ve broken something between you that can’t be fixed.

"Go inside," he commands, his voice colder now, sharper. There's a harshness in his words that feels like a slap, and it stings. The warmth, the tenderness you’ve always known from him is gone.

He doesn’t even look at you now, his gaze hardened as he turns away. He walks to his truck, each step farther from you, and your heart sinks with every one. He doesn’t wait for you like he usually does, doesn’t watch as you fumble to lock the door or make sure you’re safe before leaving. There’s no lingering, no soft goodbyes. No “see you soon” or “take care of yourself sweetheart.”

He gets in his truck without another glance, starts the engine with a roar that feels like it’s ripping through the night air. The sound of his tires crunching over the gravel as he drives away, leaving you alone on the porch.

Standing there, the full weight of your mistake crashes down on you. It’s the worst thing you could have done, and there’s no undoing it. But more than that, you can still feel it—his lips, soft and warm against yours, a kiss you never should have taken. And now, with the sound of his engine fading into the distance, you realize there’s no way to take it back.

So yeah. You definitely know what Joel’s talking about.

You watch him toss his wet shirt over the back of one of the chairs, the muscles in his shoulders tense, his eyes now deliberately avoiding yours. That—more than anything—makes your blood rise.

Fuck him.

“You’re a fucking coward, Joel.”

His head snaps toward you. “What?”

You’re already climbing out of the pool, water dripping down your skin. He keeps his eyes locked on your face, jaw tight.

“You heard me,” you say, stepping closer. “A. Fucking. Coward. Pretending like nothing happened until it’s convenient for you to throw it in my face?”

“Careful,” he grits out, jaw locked, voice low and dangerous.

“Careful what?” you shoot back, your voice rising, your chin tilted defiantly. “What are you gonna do, Miller? Keep ignoring me? Pretend I don’t exist? Oh wait—you already do.”

His eyes flash. “And whose fault is that?” he snaps, stepping forward—close enough now that he towers over you.

Your chest tightens, your throat burns, but you don’t back down.

“It’s mine, okay?” The words rip out of you, raw. “It’s fucking mine, Joel. And if you had let me say more than two damn words to you since that night, you’d know—I’m sorry. I’m sorry okay ?”

There’s a beat of silence. His expression shifts—barely—but it’s there. A flicker of something uncertain. Like he didn’t expect that.

“You’re sorry?” he repeats, voice quieter now. Disbelieving.

You let out a short, bitter scoff. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Jesus, Joel. I was drunk. I was... I don’t know—lonely. Stupid.” You shake your head, biting down the frustration. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

And that part’s true. You shouldn’t have kissed him. Not just because it caused this mess, but because one second of his lips on yours ruined you. Because now, even standing this close, you’re aching for more. You shouldn’t have kissed him—because now you can’t stop wanting to do it again. But you bury that feeling deep. You can’t let him see how much you’ve been thinking about him. How much you crave him.

What you want, more than anything, is the Joel you had before—the Joel who called you sweetheart and made you laugh until your sides hurt. So you say the words you think he needs to hear, even though they’re so far away from the truth.

“It didn’t mean anything, Joel. I was just drunk. I kiss a lot of people when I’m drunk.”

You don’t catch the flicker in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” you add, your voice dropping to a softer register, almost pleading. “I really am.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, still as stone, the silence between you growing thicker by the second. You reach out, fingers brushing his arm. He tenses at the touch—you feel it—but he doesn’t pull away.

“Can you say something? Please?” Your voice cracks a little, his name barely a whisper. “Joel…”

Still nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, for what feels like the hundredth time. “I did something fucking stupid. I know that. And I hate it. And I hate this. You shutting me out. Pretending I don’t exist,” you say, the words tumbling out now. “If you don’t want me here, I get it. I’ll leave. I’ll make up some excuse for my dad. I just— I don’t want to ruin this trip for you, Joel. I don’t want to ruin anything else.”

You pause, heart pounding in your chest like it’s trying to escape.

You take a shaky breath. “I just… I fucking miss you.”

That last part lands hard. You see it in Joel’s eyes. He really looks at you—really sees you—and for the first time since you arrived, it’s not with distance or anger. There’s something softer there now, something that feels achingly familiar. A flicker of your Joel.

And before you can brace for it, Joel steps in and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him with a kind of urgency that steals your breath.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and steady.

“I’m not?” you breathe, more for yourself than anything. Your arms move on instinct—wrapping tightly around his chest, pressing your wet skin to his.

He squeezes you tighter. “Of course not.”

There’s a pause, thick and full. Then he pulls back just enough to see your face. His hands are still on your arms, grounding you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re right.”

“I am?” you say, surprised, the corners of your mouth twitching like you’re not sure if you’re allowed to smile yet.

He nods, reluctant but honest. “Yeah. I’m a coward, I guess.” He exhales hard through his nose, a hand running through his damp hair. “I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve let you explain. I was just… I thought…”

He pauses, searching for the right thing to say, but whatever it is, he swallows it back down.

“Never mind,” he finally say, and you dont press, too relieved.

“I promise I won’t do anything like that again,” you blurt, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You mean them, even if part of you aches with how wrong they feel.

Joel’s gaze lifts to your lips for a second, then to your eyes, unreadable. For a moment, it feels like he might say something. But then he just nods once. Something flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone too quickly to catch.

“Okay,” he says, after a beat. “Good.”

A brief silence stretches between you. You shiver slightly, the night air finally catching up to your soaked skin. He notices—of course he does. His gaze dips, barely a flicker over your body, but it’s enough to make your heart stutter. Without a word, he bends down, picks up your dress from where it had fallen near the pool, and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says, his voice softer now. “You should go warm up. Don’t want you gettin’ sick.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking the dress from him.

The conversation, the moment, is over. Even if it could have happened under better circumstances, you’re glad you finally talked to him. Still, part of you wishes none of it had ever happened—that you wouldn’t have to have this conversation at all.

It already feels a little lighter. Not like things are back to how they were before, but maybe, soon enough, the two of you will laugh about it, pretend it never happened. Joel knows now it was a mistake—he just doesn’t know that you’ll be thinking about it long after tonight, right before you fall asleep.

You hope that, with time, it will lose its weight and truly mean nothing to you anymore. But not tonight. Not yet.

You push open the door leading inside and pause, turning back to him one last time. He’s already watching you, eyes soft in the dim light.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

taglist (ask to be removed/added) : @pintobug @keseqna @skye-44 @lilasskicker2 @pinkcabinet

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #tommy miller

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rizzanon · 6 months ago

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update.

hello everyone. it’s been a while. but a lot has happened in these last few days and it’s a lot to take in. i will not share in detail, but i lost someone important to me recently. it was sudden and out of nowhere so it really caught me off guard. honestly, even now, i don’t know what to think about all of it. the last few days, i took the time to process this and grief because yeah, i can’t believe they’re actually gone. so i apologise for not being active here and for delaying chapter 6 of undoing fate.

to those who were worried about me and have been asking me if i’m ok in my inbox, i appreciate every one of you and thank you for caring. it truly means a lot to me. and for most of you who are waiting for me to drop chapter 6 of undoing fate, i apologise, as i will have to postpone chapter 6 for a bit. chapter 6 is unfinished when i last touched it, and it would be unfair to you all if i just posted something that i didn’t put my whole heart into, or if i just posted it unfinished and half-done. i probably should have posted a notice update sooner, but yeah like i said, i was grieving and still trying to process this recent loss.

i definitely won’t be dropping undoing fate, but i do hope you guys will be patient with me. i will definitely come back before the end of jan with the next (two) chapter(s) at least, and i promise it’ll be longer than the past chapters to make up for the time i was inactive. until then, i probably won’t be active on tumblr again for the next few days. i love you guys and wish you all well, and happy (belated) new year!

#rizzanon #undoing fate updates #sorry for being inactive for a while #undoing fate chapter 6 will come soon

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 6 months ago

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P*rn ☆ Chapter 9, Guess who's back

Masterlist Word count: 2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Now that you've all had a nice portion of smut, here's some more angst <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

It's early in the morning but you feel like heaven is being bestowed upon you by God's favorite angel. You try to squeeze your thighs together as you stretch your body in your sleepy state, but they are held down.

When you look down, you see your angel. A perfect picture of worship, pleasure, and sex. Just as he had promised when he offered you a free trial. His eyes are almost screwed shut, completely lost in the sweet nectar between your thighs.

A rumbling feeling of pleasure builds up in you stomach as he splays his hand over top and pressed you down a little. You hadn't even noticed you started grinding against his face. His eyes are open now, wide awake, taking in every little detail of your body, your face, your movements.

You untangle underneath him, thighs squeezing together but it does not matter. Sylus is far too strong to let himself be crushed by your thighs. Though he has tried to get you to do so in the past few weeks.

The waves of pleasure subside, and he lays down next to you, pulling your body against him to cuddle. His thick cock is half hard, but you can feel his release against your skin. For some reason, that never wore off. He's always excited to eat you out. So much so that he comes himself nearly every time.

When he does not wake you like this, you wake him the same way. Only difference is that he doesn't let himself finish until he's inside you. Or at least, he tries to.

'Morning sweetie,' he grumbles against your neck, leaving adoring kisses littered over you skin. A smile spreads across your face as you press a kiss to his forehead.

'Morning love.'

'Do we have any plans today?'

'I have to get packing for my trip with Zayne.' He groans in disagreement. 'Don't be like that. I told you you could join.'

'Too many memories,' he says, his voice barely audible. You grab his chin and lift his face so that he's looking at you.

'I know you don't want to talk about it and I know that you are healing, but we are going to have to talk about it one of these days,' you tell him in the gentlest voice you can manage. He nods and presses a kiss on you lips.

'Then let me take this weekend to collect my thoughts. I'll be ready to talk to you after your trip.'

'No,' you reply sternly, 'if this thing is as bad as I feel it is, you are not going to ponder over it all on your own for a whole weekend. Just tell me when you're ready.'

'Okay.'

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Your annual trip with Zayne once started just a few months after he moved in on complete accident. The trip was supposed to be with Tara, but she got terrible food poisoning the day before you two were supposed to leave. At that point, everything you two booked was nonrefundable. In a moment of despair, you went to Zayne and asked him if he'd like to go with you. This was just a few days after he started dropping off leftovers at your door. You figured it wouldn't be a terrible idea.

If only you had known back then that it would lead to the most valuable friendship you have, you would've done it even sooner.

The annual trip is always a weekend. A few things you two decided at the start is that it should be doable by car so that you two could leave Friday morning and return Sunday evening, only having to take one day of annual leave.

Friday evening is always Zayne's turn to pick the restaurant because he likes to plan ahead. You pick on Saturday after strolling through the city all day. Surprisingly, both choices have never turned out all that terrible.

When getting to the hotel on Friday, there is a mandatory one-hour nap. After that, it's time to explore the city. Then it's dinner, drinks at the hotel bar, reading together in the same room, going to sleep in separate rooms.

On Saturday, Zayne has usually chosen a short nature hike in some nice scenery nearby. Then it's showering, going out to have lunch at some mom-and-pop shop, a little shopping, museum visits, and then dinner. After the whole Saturday you two usually retire to your own rooms right away, but sometimes there's some cuddling while one reads to the other.

Then Sunday morning is "free time." Each does whatever and you meet up for lunch. After that is the drive home.

It's truly not all that thrilling but you enjoy it majorly. You just love being around Zayne.

Despite all that, you do have a strange iffy feeling about leaving Sylus behind. Maybe one day, when Zayne also has a partner, you could all go together. But right now, something just doesn't feel right. You have no clue what it is. Sylus was fine when you left, the house was fine, you checked your luggage three times. Still, it keeps nagging at the back of your head.

'Are you alright?' Zayne's voice snaps you out of it.

'Oh, yeah,' you hum in response, 'just a little worried about Sylus. I have this weird underbelly feeling I can't shake.'

'Why don't you call him when we get to the hotel?'

'I will,' you say with a smile, 'thank you for understanding.' You notice that strangely empathetic look in Zayne's face again. He knows something you don't and you know it's not his place to tell you, but you feel like you're out of the loop and it stings.

'Did you two talk already?' You shake your head and cross your arms, leaning back in the passenger seat of his car.

'He isn't ready to tell me yet. I get it, but it stings sometimes.' Zayne nods.

'He'll tell you soon. I'm sure.'

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Being alone in his apartment shouldn't be strange to Sylus, but without your laughter it suddenly feels empty. He put on some music, but without you dancing around his living room it's not quite what he's used to.

It's so strange. It has only been a few weeks, two months maybe, but he can't shake this feeling that he cannot go without you. You had given him your house key a few days back. Back than you explained that he would come over anyway, so what would it matter if he let himself in? Would that offer still stand now, when you're not there?

He turns off his music and goes out into the hallway. It's just a few steps to your apartment but he gets interrupted.

'Would you look at that. Long time no see, Sylus.' That voice. It scrapes it his head like nails on a chalkboard. His whole body tenses up as he looks down the hallway. It's her. She looks smug, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as she looks Sylus up and down. Every inch of hair he has is standing straight up.

'What are you doing here?' She pushes off the wall and saunters a few steps closer. Sylus doesn't want to take a step back, he doesn't want to be under her thumb again. It seems she's considering what to tell him, as if she hasn't quite thought of what she's doing here yet.

'Visiting a friend,' she decides, 'you?'

'Same,' he chooses to answer. After all, she was the first to leak his address. Better to be safe than sorry. She looks him up and down again and he realizes he's still wearing his house slippers and clearly coming from the last apartment with a key in his hand. She's always been very observant, so he doesn't doubt she knows exactly what he's doing here.

'Hm,' she huffs, running her tongue across her lower teeth, 'doesn't look like it.' She takes another step closer, clearly liking how nervous he looks.

'I don't have to explain myself to you.'

'No, of course not,' her lips pull into an evil grin, 'but I can tell you want to.' The hallway feels ice cold, Sylus can feel himself shiver. With a slight quirk of her lips, she relaxes her body. 'Okay, don't tell me. I know you're probably hooking up with some girl for your little porn videos.' Her tone is so demeaning, it feels like a punch to the gut. Sylus has to keep himself from physically doubling over. 'I guess I'll see you around.'

'I'd rather not,' he manages to say, his voice luckily keeping a steady tone. She pushes out her bottom lip, trying so hard to look hurt but her eyes are dead. There's no soul behind them, just a shell of a human with evil intent.

'Ouch, I'm hurt darling. We had some fun.' She tries to reach out for him, but he flinches back. Her grin reappears. She got exactly what she wanted. 'See you soon, Sylus.'

He watches her turn on her heel and walk down the hallway to the other end. Near the end of the hallway, she pulls out a key and sticks it in the lock. She turns her head to Sylus and sends him a wink.

When she disappears into the apartment, Sylus feels physically sick. He runs into your apartment and bents over the toilet but nothing comes out. There he sits, a weak, pathetic man still under the thumb of his ex. A million questions run through his mind.

"Why is she here?"

"Did she know I live here?"

"Is she really living here or is she visiting?"

"Why does this have to happen now? Things were so good."

"What do I do now?"

The sound of his phone ringing pulls him out of it. He leans against the cold tile wall of your bathroom as he takes his phone out of his pocket, still feeling queasy. It's you. For a second he considers not picking up, but he knows he can't. He takes a second to breathe before picking up.

'Hey sweetie, how was the ride?' It stays silent for a little bit. The nerves from just now have not yet subsided and a whole new wave washes over him when you don't talk. 'Sweetie?'

"Are you okay?" Shit, his voice has betrayed him.

'Of course. Why do you ask?'

"You sound weird, and I've been having this weird feeling that something happened." Thank fuck for your superstition. He can get out of this without making you want to return from your trip early.

'I just worked out and-'

"You didn't," you say, cutting him off, "you never work out on Fridays. I know you better than that." It's his turn to fall silent. He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand to wipe off something itchy. When he pulls his hand back, he sees a wet spot. He's crying.

'I'm fine.'

"You're not. Please don't lie to me." He hates how you know him so well already, hates that you can tell he's not alright, hate that you care so much for him. At this moment he just wants you to take his words for truth. "Alright, I'm going back."

'No, please don't,' his voice trembles. 'I want you to enjoy your time. Please.'

"Fine, but then you're driving up here. Something clearly happened and I don't want you to be alone."

'No, this is your time with Doctor Zayne. I wouldn't want to-'

"Zayne! Can Sylus join us tomorrow?" "Of course." Doctor Zayne speaks without hesitation. Sylus can't quite wrap his head around why he would be so kind to him. It doesn't matter though. You've made up your mind, so: "You're coming."

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

After dinner, you and Zayne sit down with your books but neither of you is in a mood to read. He places his book on his lap and turns to you. 'So what happened with Sylus?'

'I don't know. He wouldn't tell me, but he sounded terrified.'

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Previous - Next

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Taglist

@carmelves

@terriblesoup

@valkyyriia

@fvcknwww

@itsizumiiii

@ludwigsb0nker

@amywright

@frenchmess23yo

@malleus-draconias-rose

@deathkat657

@sweetnanah

@trishiepo0

@iraot

@nyxie-00

@sherlockstolemyname

@poptrim

@dummiebunny

@everythingistaken00

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@tyys-stuff

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@pxxchyjjk168

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@brekkers-whore

@datfangirl

@datura109

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@sinnamon-bunn

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actuallysaiyan · 4 months ago

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The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Eight: Nevermind The Trailers, Here's The Main Event

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, sending nudes through text, love confessions, semi-public fingering pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: the two of you are navigating the waters after your last encounter. Nanami surprises you during a date and it ends with the two of you officially cementing what this relationship means for the two of you. a/n: HERE IT IS! The next chapter! We have love confessions and then some! More to come sooner than later, I promise!

taglist: @cherryblossombankai @kenpachisbrat @benkeibear @harlekin6

@brokennerdalert @marikuchanxo @gennaray

@sugurusprettygirl @hazzelle-kento @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist

The following weeks sees you and Kento spending almost every waking moment together. It’s known on campus that you two are the cutest couple ever. Most girls watch you in awe as you have the most romantic man charming you every time he’s around you. Even the girls who caused you problems during the party seem to be jealous.

On Kento’s side of things, not only does he feel more confident with your relationship being more stable, he also feels like things are looking up for him for the first time in so long. The thoughts of returning to the sorcerer world are pushed aside for the daydreams of a future with you. He fantasizes about maybe having a family with you once you’re both done with school.

Things couldn’t get any better, really. And now that you two were both comfortable in your positions at school and with each other, it was only going to get better from there.

Kento spends a lot of time with you in your dorm. He’s happy to shower you in affection. He’s so much more layered and complex than you previously could have imagined. He shows you parts of himself that even he keeps tucked away from himself. He’s honest and kind, always wanting to talk to you about all kinds of things.

The only thing that sort of lingers between the two of you is his virginity. You know you’d love to go that far with him, but you still want to tread comfortably. You two have just gotten together for real recently and to push the subject could make him uncomfortable. So you decided to just continue the way it’s been going and see where things go.

For the first time, Kento is now debating on whether or not to send you a nude. He’s got picture messaging on his phone and you two have been official for a few weeks now with nothing else going on. He wants to show you that he is, in fact, still interested in pursuing something sexual with you as well as romantic.

He’s pacing around in his room. Over the summer, he regained a bit of muscle mass. He had been going to the gym regularly to occupy his time. So he knows he doesn’t look bad. It’s just…how do you even take a good picture to send as a nude?

He groans as he tries different angles, but he thinks he looks stupid in every single one of them. After about twenty deleted pictures, he throws himself on his bed and whines. It’s frustrating to try and be sexy. He knows he doesn’t have to try too hard, but he wants to. He wants to look good for you.

Then he decides to take a shower. Once he’s got his clothes off and the bathroom is nice and steamy, Kento realizes just how perfect this set up is. Finally, he grabs his phone and snaps a picture of him with his shirt off and his cock in his hand. Looking at it, he finds himself actually impressed.

Your phone vibrates as you sit in your dorm studying. You smile when you realize it’s a text from your boyfriend. When you open it, your eyes widen. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen Kento so confident as he looks in this picture.

The thought of him taking this photo for you has you really riled up. You settle on your bed, your studies forgotten for the moment. You push your pants down and tease yourself through your panties. With your free hand, you snap a picture of your panties pushed to the side and your slick dribbling down your thighs.

Miss you.

He sees the message before going into the shower, and he gets even more confident. He strokes his cock a few times, squeezing the head gently to make some precum pearl at the tip. Then he sends you a picture of that.

See you soon, beautiful.

The next time you two see each other, you’re both blushing. It’s a shared secret. Something that only the two of you understand. And it makes you feel even closer together. Soon, he’s talking about taking you out on a date over the weekend.

He meets you in the parking lot outside the dorms. You look so adorable, dressed in a plaid skirt and a band t-shirt. His eyes widen and he smiles when he notices it’s the shirt he forgot in your dorm one time. You grab his hand and the two of you start walking towards the movie theatre.

“I’m really excited for this,” you say softly.

“Me too. It’s been a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Nanami pays for the tickets, the snacks and he carries everything to your seats. It’s in the very back of the theatre. It’s nice to have these dates. It reminds you of why you really fell for the guy in the first place. He shows you his charming side, when everyone sees just this brooding, moody emo kid.

The trailers begin and the sound is booming as the screen shows you previews for a romcom first. You both laugh at how cheesy it is, but it still seems funny enough for the two of you to wonder if you’d like to come see it. The next trailer is a gory slasher flick, which piques both of your interests. Following that are some ads for some bank, the snacks at the concession stand and then there’s one last trailer for a historical piece before your movie starts.

At first, the movie was very captivating. You and Kento can’t look away, even as you munch on some hot, buttery popcorn and sweet chocolate. Then halfway through, the movie shows its true colors and you realize that it’s going to be very disappointing. You whine and rest your head on his shoulder, and Kento chuckles at just how cute you’re being right now.

One thing leads to another, and you kiss him. He kisses you back, letting you take the lead on this for the time being. He’s not wanting to press things, considering you’re in a movie theatre and getting caught would really suck if you wanted to return for another date.

But the thought of you teasing yourself in those panties when you sent that nude has his blood boiling. It’s been a few weeks since the two of you had any kind of intimacy. He’s growing hard with every little kiss you give him. It’s almost like you’re trying to tease him on purpose.

He looks at you slyly as he pushes your skirt up just a bit. Then you bite your lip to hold in your moan as he begins to rub your clit through your panties. You were wearing silky ones this time, just to spice things up for your date.

The gasp you let out when he pushes them aside and parts your folds has him chuckling. You glare at him, but you’re spreading your thighs even more. He’s so much more confident now than he’s ever been. You remember the first time you two kissed, and how he was such a needy guy back then. Now Kento was calling the shots and you were loving it.

“Try to be quiet, baby.” He whispers in your ear before kissing your neck.

Two of his fingers slip into you, making you let out such a cute little moan. Thankfully the theatre is nearly empty and you’re sitting far away from everyone else. Kento begins to thrust his fingers into you, curling them against your sweet spot. His cock is throbbing but that’s not what’s important here. What’s important is that you see stars.

His thumb rubs your clit in time with his slow and meticulous movements. Every second is agonizingly pleasurable. Your eyes roll back in your head and you begin to hump his hand. It feels like so long since you were able to get off on his long fingers. Kento smirks when he sees just how needy you are right now. You’re just a mess, dripping all over his fingers.

“Cum for me,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sensual kiss.

He keeps your moans muffled as your walls begin to pulse around his digits. Kento keeps kissing you, drawing out every little bit of pleasure from you. Then slowly, he pulls out of you and brings his fingers to his lips to lick them clean. You pant as you try to catch your breath. You’ve got a few minutes to clean yourself up and straighten up before the credits begin rolling.

He grabs your hand and guides you out of the theatre. The night air feels so good on your sweaty skin. You feel so giddy. Your heart is racing and your tummy is still full of butterflies. You kiss him over and over, and he smiles sweetly.

“Be mine,” you say. “Be my boyfriend.”

He blushes. “I…I would love to.”

You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him so deeply. Kento wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. You’re both tucked away on the side of the entrance, away from the rest of the world. The rest of the world could disappear and none of that would even matter to you and him.

“I love you,” he finally says once more.

You smile. “I love you too. I have for a long while now.”

It feels so good to finally say those words out loud with the person you love. It’s so natural, but it feels like this explosion of emotions has gone off inside of you. You feel like you’re shaking, and Kento feels similarly. He can’t quite wipe the stupid grin off his face.

“I want you,” he whispers in your ear. “Want you to be the one who takes my virginity.”

This makes your heart skip a beat. The words sound so sensual, even though he hasn’t really said anything dirty. You look up into his eyes and you notice just how dark they are. He looks very serious too, like he didn’t just ask you to be the first person to fuck him.

“...I want you too. Whatever you want, you can have that with me.”

He kisses you again, this time it’s a lingering kiss. His thumbs caress your cheekbones. He holds you close to him, like you are the only thing in this world that has any kind of meaning to him.

“I will always love you.”

The words feel warm inside of you. They make a warmth blossom so deep inside and it’s visible on your face. Kento smiles now too, loving the way you look at him like he is the only man who could ever make you smile.

“I will always love you too.”

With your fingers intertwined, Kento walks you home under the twinkling stars.

#bacon.writes #kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x you #emo nanami #the first time aka how Nanami Kento lost his virginity #dividers by adornedwithlight #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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latin5mamii · 10 months ago

Text

Angel - Jude Bellingham

warnings: long chapter (1829 words)

genre: childhood best friends to lovers

summary:How could you know that a stupid nickname could change everything?

author's note: I know you've been waiting for this, and I'm so excited to finally share the latest chapter with you! I truly hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And yes, I might have left you hanging a bit, but trust me it’ll be worth it😌. I’m already planning to write the next chapter tonight. Plus I’d love to hear your thoughts—if you have any ideas or twists you think could make the story even more exciting, feel free to share them! last chapter

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“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

There he was, leaning against the door frame, looking effortlessly handsome as always. His presence seemed even more magnetic after the words he’d left you with the night before, words that had kept you awake, replaying over and over in your mind.

"We’ll have plenty of nights together, don’t worry."

You hadn’t slept much, but who could blame you? Thoughts of Madrid, of Jude, and of how drastically everything was about to change had swirled in your head all night. But now, with him standing there, his familiar grin melting away your worries, it all seemed to make sense.

“Good morning,” you mumbled back, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you sat up. Jude crossed the room in a few quick strides and wrapped you in a hug, his embrace warm and reassuring, as if promising that everything would be okay.

“This feels weird,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper against his chest.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. “Weird? Why’s that?”

You shrugged, still struggling to put your feelings into words. “I don’t know… it’s just… surreal. Like this is all a dream or something.”

He smiled, that boyish, disarming smile you’d known since forever—the one that always made you feel safe, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as he was around. “I get it. But hey, you’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You chuckled, the tension that had been knotted in your shoulders slowly melting away. You held onto him a moment longer, savoring the comfort of being close to him, before finally letting go.

Jude, always the playful one, grabbed your suitcase with a grin and started heading towards the door. “Come on, let’s get moving before you change your mind,” he teased.

As you watched him, it hit you just how surreal this all was. You’d never imagined that you’d be moving to Madrid with your childhood best friend, the same boy you used to chase around the playground, the same boy whose grandma used to joke you’d end up marrying one day. You’d laughed it off back then, never believing it could really happen.

But now, here you were. You thought back to when he first started getting famous, when he left for Dortmund, then Real Madrid, and how much you’d missed him. The messages, the late-night FaceTime calls, the way you both tried so hard to stay in touch despite the distance.

But now, one question lingers in your mind.

You're literally going to Madrid with your childhood best friend for who knows how long, the same one you made out with once after sharing a bed, and who constantly flirts with you.

You didn’t want to ask him that question because, well, he’s famous and has other things to think about. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way,” his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He knew how much you loved surprises.

“What is it?” you ask, a playful smile on your face.

“Wait and see.”

As soon as you arrive at the airport, the car takes a different turn from the usual route, stopping in front of a smaller yet equally impressive plane. Now you understand what the surprise was. And you felt a little silly for not realizing it sooner: Why would someone so famous take a commercial flight when they could afford a private jet?

As you stepped out of the car, your eyes still wide with surprise at the sight of the private jet in front of you, Jude chuckled and took your hand in his, leading you toward the sleek aircraft. His touch was warm and familiar, like it had always been since you were kids. But now, with everything that had changed, the fame, the move to Madrid, the endless possibilities ahead,his hand in yours felt different..

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised by this,” he teased, his grin contagious as you reached the steps of the plane.

“I mean, I should’ve seen it coming, but come on, Jude,” you said, giving him a playful shove. “A private jet? Really?”

He shrugged, still holding your hand as you both boarded. “Gotta travel in style now, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

The interior of the jet was even more luxurious than you’d imagined. Soft leather seats, a spacious layout, and every inch of it screaming luxury. Jude plopped down onto one of the oversized seats, pulling you down beside him before you could even take it all in.

“Get comfy, we’ve got a few hours ahead of us,” he said, stretching out as if the whole plane was just his personal living room.

You never thought you'd experience this. You remember when in the past Jude and Jobe used to fight a lot, and you just brought peace to them, that’s one of the main reasons their mom loved you.And that feels like yesterday and now everything changed.

As you sank into the soft leather seat beside Jude, you couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, the weight of it all finally starting to sink in. Jude turned to look at you, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“What’s funny?” he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You shook your head, still caught up in the whirlwind of memories. “Just thinking about how different everything is now. I mean, you used to fight with Jobe all the time, and I’d always have to step in and keep the peace. Now you're taking me to Madrid on a private jet.”

Jude chuckled, leaning back in his seat with a lazy grin. “Yeah, well, you were good at keeping us in line. Still are, actually.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Come on, Jude, don’t start.”

“Still,” he said, nudging you playfully, “you’re younger, and I’m always going to be the one looking out for you. That’s just how it is.”

You huffed, pretending to be exasperated. “Four months, Jude. Four.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied with a smirk. “Still the older one, and I’m still going to protect you.”Jude gave you a smug smile, leaning back in his seat.

You rolled your eyes, smirking as you fired back, “From who? Jobe?”

Jude chuckled, nodding as if he were genuinely considering it. “Yeah, he can be pretty evil sometimes.”

You shook your head, laughing at the thought. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head with a smile. His playful banter, the way he could always make you feel at ease, was exactly what you needed.

But there was something else you’d been thinking about—something you weren’t sure you should say. The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“When you were in Madrid,” you started, your voice a bit more hesitant than you intended, “I used to check the news about you. You know, just to see what was going on.”

Jude turned his head toward you, intrigued. “Oh, yeah? Keeping tabs on me?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faded as you continued. “Well, yeah… but not just for fun. There were times when I’d come across people calling you arrogant, or childish, and it kind of freaked me out.”

Jude blinked in surprise, his playful expression faltering for a second. “Freaked you out? Why?”

You hesitated again, not wanting to sound dramatic. “Because… I didn’t know if you’d changed. I mean, all those articles and posts made you sound like someone I didn’t recognize. And I guess I was scared to see you again, scared you wouldn’t be… you.”

There was a pause as Jude processed what you said, and you felt your heart thudding in your chest, waiting for his response. But instead of going serious, like you expected, he grinned—full-on, mischievous Jude.

“Oh, so you thought I’d turn into some big-headed superstar, huh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “What, did you think I was going to show up wearing sunglasses indoors and demand people call me ‘Mr. Bellingham’?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, your worries easing as his joke broke the tension. “No! But—”

Jude leaned in, his grin widening. “Or maybe you were scared I’d start talking about myself in the third person. ‘Jude Bellingham doesn’t wait in line.’ ‘Jude Bellingham only flies private.’”

You shook your head, laughing even harder now. “Stop! That’s not what I meant!”

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with mock arrogance. “You know what? Maybe I should start doing that. Sounds kind of fun.”

“Oh, please,” you said, playfully swatting his arm. “You’d be unbearable.”

Jude laughed, the warmth in his voice settling your nerves. “Nah, I get it. People love to talk. But you should’ve known better.I’m still me. Just with a bit more style and better hair.”

“Better hair, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s debatable.”

He reached up, running a hand through his hair with exaggerated pride. “Debatable? This is prime hair right here. You’re just jealous.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the lightness in your chest was undeniable now. The Jude sitting next to you wasn’t the arrogant football star the tabloids sometimes made him out to be. He was still the same guy who used to annoy you with dumb jokes and competitive childish games, and still, the same guy who made you feel safe and at home.

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Jude's house was incredible, a dream come true. He had told you about it before, but you never imagined it would be like this. You felt an overwhelming excitement, knowing you were experiencing something that millions of people could only dream of.

"Like it?" he asked, as he unloaded the suitcases from the car.

You were surprised because you thought someone else would do it for him, but it seemed he was doing it himself just to spend as much time with you as possible. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, just as they always did whenever he was near.

You nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah, I mean… it’s unreal, Jude.”

He flashed that familiar boyish smile, the one that made your stomach do flips. “Wait ‘til you see inside.”

And he was right. The inside was even more stunning than you imagined—high ceilings, sleek furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a breathtaking view of the city below. You followed Jude through the living room, your eyes wide as you took it all in.

“I feel like I’m in a magazine or something,” you said, spinning in a slow circle to take everything in.

Jude chuckled as he dropped your bags at the base of the stairs. “Well, I did say I had more style now, didn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you that one.”

He came up behind you, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his touch. “Hey,” he said softly, his tone a bit more serious now. “Do you want to go grab dinner? I know it’s been a long day, and there’s a place nearby I think you’d love.”

You glanced up at him, surprised but touched by the gesture. “Dinner? Right now?”

He nodded, his eyes soft and inviting. “Yeah. Just you and me. What do you say?”

You didn’t have to think twice. “Sure, sounds perfect.”

A smile broke across his face. “Great. Give me ten minutes, and we’ll head out.”

True to his word, Jude was ready quickly, and soon, you were heading out together.. The restaurant he’d chosen was chic but not overly formal, nestled in a quiet part of the city.

As you both sat down at a cozy table near the window, the ambiance was perfect: low lighting, soft music, and just enough privacy for you to feel like it was your own little world.

Jude ordered a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for each of you.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a teasing smile, “on a scale of one to ten, how jealous do you think Jobe is knowing that you’re with me now?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, he’ll surely give it back to me in a while”

Jude’s grin widened. “Yeah, well, too bad for him. You’re all mine now.”

The way he said it sent a flutter through your chest, and you couldn’t help but blush. He noticed, of course, and leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering just enough to make your heart race.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now,” he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I’m not shy” you protested, trying to hide your smile as you took a sip of your wine.

“Right,” Jude said, leaning even closer across the table. “You’ve never been shy a day in your life.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “You’re annoying”

You weren’t sure who made the first move. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you, or maybe it was both of you leaning into the inevitable. But suddenly, his hand was brushing lightly against your arm, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down to your wrist. It wasn’t much, just a simple touch, but it felt like everything.

His gaze dipped to your lips, and your heart raced in your chest as he took another sip from that glass. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, barely above a whisper.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, his breath ghosting over your skin.

You blinked, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. “Think about what?”

He swallowed, as if debating whether to say it out loud, and then, in a voice barely audible, he said, “When we kissed.”

Your breath caught in your throat, memories of that kiss rushing back to you—the way it had felt so easy and so right, yet so confusing at the same time. You haven’t talked about that since it happened, maybe it was time

“Jude…” you started, but your voice faltered.

He didn’t let you finish. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You shyly smiled, breaking eye contact and looking down, feeling the warmth of his words flush through you. Without knowing how to respond, you took another sip of your wine.

Jude noticed your reaction, letting out a soft chuckle. Leaning in close, his breath tickling your ear as he had to reveal a secret, he murmured,

“We should talk about this at home, shouldn’t we, Angel?”

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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 23: Regrets

Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,940

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst

A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.

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They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room.

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.

You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation.

You are.

“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.”

You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”

Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.”

Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you.

“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes.

You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.

It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now.

The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away.

“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.”

He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him.

He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away.

He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job.

It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you.

“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him.

“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.”

“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta.

“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back.

“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.”

The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready.

John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?”

There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.

“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not.

It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours.

There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other. Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it.

They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now.

He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way.

All because Simon is gone.

How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them.

How silly that idea had been.

It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack?

Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills.

John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision.

John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.”

“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.”

“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling.

“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?”

“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. .

“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously.

“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again.

Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you.

“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.”

“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly.

“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.”

Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him.

“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful.

He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection.

“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek.

He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega.

He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited.

What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that.

“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”

“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated.

“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.”

You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.”

“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself.

“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.”

“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave.

He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”

You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon?

Or is he coming back already?

You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open.

Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him.

“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you.

“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. “I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.”

It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source.

You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you.

“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...”

He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job.

Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own.

Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed.

You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably.

Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while.

It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly.

They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room.

He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent.

“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you.

You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold.

It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out.

A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else.

You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something.

You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual.

They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything.

Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t.

You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care.

You just want Simon back.

“I’m worried.”

“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.”

He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents.

“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”

He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity.

“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear.

“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.”

John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are.

“How do we teach her?” He asks.

“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.”

“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together.

“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.”

He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either.

Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack.

He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now.

Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was.

He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack.

He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha.

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you.

He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp.

“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands.

“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it.

He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear.

“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear.

He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.”

You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way.

Things have changed.

“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.”

“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly.

“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.”

He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives.

“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind.

He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again.

There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence.

“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you.

John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at.

His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?”

It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying.

“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again.

Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint.

“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”

You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again.

There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.”

You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out.

“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles.

“When will you be back?” You ask.

“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says.

“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid.

“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.”

“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John.

He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home.

“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back.

A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head.

“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile.

“He's never called me that before.” You say.

“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says.

You sure hope so.

It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left.

You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders.

You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back.

He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with.

You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body.

You're not prepared for what he does next.

One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips.

You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real.

He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you.

The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.

He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks.

“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember.

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left.

“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly.

“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it.

“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.

“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back.

“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear.

You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream.

He's really back.

You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special.

Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others.

“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm.

“Hurry back?” You stare up at him.

“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart.

You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like.

Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb.

Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head.

You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then.

Always the job first.

Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming.

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.”

You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall.

“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest.

He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?”

“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make.

Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”

You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”

Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”

“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.”

Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”

You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room.

Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass.

Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time.

Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject?

“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?”

“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”

“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”

You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to.

Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier.

You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face?

You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn?

It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again.

You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway.

You’ll have to make the first move.

Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway.

One step at a time. One step at a time.

You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it.

The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely.

You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone.

“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you.

“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment.

You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real.

You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired.

“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven.

“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face.

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.”

He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”

Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions?

You might never know, just another secret hidden between you.

A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try.

Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to.

“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation.

He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it.

You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before.

He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him.

There’s no going back.

Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while.

You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge.

How silly that thought had been.

His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space.

He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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lowkeyerror · 1 year ago

Text

The Family Business Ch.4

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Chapter Notes: Brief mention of the red room nothing crazy

Summary: Natasha is nervous about finally having some personal time with Wanda’s family. You help her fight through those nerves. Meanwhile Wanda struggles to come to terms with how much of your growth she missed.

An: Posting consistently again got me feeling in my prime. No promises, but might post chapter 5 later this week instead of next monday.

Series Masterlist| Masterlist

Once you were done with work, and had your flowers for Flora, you were ready to go to the Maximoff’s house. You’d sent a quick text to Dragos telling him that you’d bring Natasha with you, to save them an extra unnecessary trip.

You pack your things quickly and head to the car, Natasha follows behind you. When you get in the car, you finally notice the subtle nervousness of Natasha.

“Are you scared to meet Wanda’s mom?”

Natasha nods a little, “It’s more than that. You guys are the most important people in her life. She told me so herself. Dragos doesn’t like me yet, Pietro and I really just looked at each other, and I heard Flora’s got high standards when it comes to partners.”

“Well, they are the kindest people you could ever meet. All they'll care about is that you keep Wanda happy,” you insist.

“I think the kindness goes out of the window, when you find out your daughter got married to a Russian spy that tried to kill her,” Natasha mumbles.

You try to offer her some comfort, “I’m not going to argue with that but, you’ll get a little break, when I tell them I like you.”

“Really?”

“If Wanda told you all about me, then you should know they've got a soft spot for me,” you’re a little embarrassed when you say it, but it’s the truth.

If Natasha notices your embarrassment, she doesn't bring it up, “Wanda says you’re basically a Maximoff every time she tells a story about you.”

You smile, “I like to think of them as my family too. There’s been plenty of times where I want to call Dragos, papa. That means there’s even more times when I want call Flora Mama.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want to take the chance and ruin our dynamic.”

The Russian sighs as the house comes into view. “I think they’d both love it. The way Wanda tells it, they feel as though you're one of their kids.”

You park the car before answering Natasha, “Maybe one day.”

With the hydrangeas in hand, you head to the front door. Natasha tries to walk behind you, but you pull her forward so she’s next to you.

“This is a family you have to face head on. Those uncertainties you have, keep them close to you. Don’t let them see your nerves because they’ll pounce. Just remember that you love Wanda, and she loves you too,” your attempt at a pep talk seems to calm her nerves a bit.

“You said they were nice people. Nice people don’t have warnings.”

You roll your eyes, “Natasha you secretly married the daughter of a crime lord without ever meeting the family, there’s a shitload of warnings.”

The door swings open before you have the chance to knock. You find yourself being pulled into a warm hug. It’s only a moment before Flora’s hands land on your face. She turns your head a couple times checking that you are fine, before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Y/n, where have you been sweetheart? Too old to come see me anymore, huh? You’ve got bags under your eyes Malysh, have you been sleeping ok?”

You smile warmly at her antics, “I’ll never be too old to come visit my Flora. As a sorry, for being away I brought you these.”

Flora takes the flowers from you. “Always knowing how to get into my good graces, these are beautiful Y/n.” Her eyes dart to Natasha and you watch as her features go neutral.

“You must be Natasha.”

The red head extends her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs.Maximoff.”

Flora shakes her hand, “Yes, if only we could've done this sooner. “

Natasha doesn’t shift at the words, but you can feel her nerves from besides you. Flora beckons you both into the house and you follow her into the kitchen. She grabs a vase for the flowers and begins to fill it with water.

“So, why Natasha?” She says as she places the flowers in the vase.

“I’m sorry?” Natasha is confused by the question.

Flora keeps her eyes on the flowers, “Why’d you pick the name Natasha? Natalia is a fairly pretty name, why not keep it?”

You weren't surprised that Flora had done some research on the woman. However, Natasha was taken aback by the question. She wasn’t expecting it, so it took her a moment to respond.

“As a spy, I have many aliases. However, Natasha never felt like an alias, she just felt like me. My parents and sister call me Natalia often just to tease me, but even they seem to like Natasha better.”

You decide to help the Russian out, “Are you close with your family, Natasha?”

She nods, “Very close. My parents took Yelena and I when we were very little. They saved us from some terrible people, I owe then everything. Though they'd never let me repay them.”

“Reminds me of us,” you say to Flora, who has now softened her gaze on the redhead.

Flora had a soft spot for children in tough places. You knew that's why she originally gravitated towards you, when Pietro first brought you around. This was the perfect topic to get Natasha on Flora’s good side.

“If we found you any younger you would've had our last name,” Flora places the vase the table. She eyes Natasha for a moment before asking about her childhood, “Foster care?”

Natasha stiffens a little, “Worse. Young girls all taken and trained to be weapons for whatever they needed.”

Flora’s eyes become glossy, “The red room.”

Natasha’s gaze was locked on the floor, “Yeah.”

It is a quick turn of events when Flora wraps her arms around Natasha. She holds the woman firm as she begins to speak in Russian. You don't understand all of it, but it seems that Flora was intimately familiar with the place.

“You two go and make yourselves comfortable while I start dinner,” she says finally releasing Natasha.

“You don’t want help?”

Flora shakes her head, “Go, relax malysh. I’ve got it covered in here.”

Instead of leading Natasha to the living room, you take her to the backyard. There is a beautiful large grass area, with a nice garden space in the corner. The patio has the perfect view of the sunset. You sit on one of the patio chairs and Natasha sits beside you.

“I think that went well,” you say to her.

“Thanks to you, it went really well,” Natasha looks at you gratefully.

You shake your head, “I didn’t do much.”

Natasha argues back, “I see why they call you the glue. If you hadn’t made your comment, she would’ve slighted me all night.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, you would've had her the moment you asked how many people she killed,” you joke, and Natasha gets a bit embarrassed.

“Sorry, I guess I just- “

You stop her, “It’s fine, Nat. I’ve been underestimated all my life. My first kill is symbolic to me, even in that pitiful state, I was able to snap someone’s neck. I remember all of them, though it’s not a lot, I also remember each one getting easier.”

She looks at you, “The longer it gets, the less you remember, and then one day you’re left with the memory of how you used to feel about it. Maybe it fills you with pride in the beginning, but eventually killing just leaves you feeling empty.”

Wanda comes into the backyard before you could answer the Russian.

“She’s not giving you too much trouble is she, Y/n?”

Natasha sends her wife a pointed look. You laugh at the interaction.

“She’s a pleasure to have around. I can see why you married her, regardless of the assassination attempt.”

Wanda tilts her head but keeps a smile on her face, “Telling our love story without me, my love?”

“It just came up. How was the meeting?”

Wanda plops down next to you before leaning back, “Apparently Kingpin is looking to expand his control. At least that’s what Hammerhead said.”

You clench your jaw at the mention of the large man, “He’s such a greedy bastard. He has the second largest market besides us. Which means he thinks he can take over us. I couldn’t imagine being a guy that big with no fucking brains.”

Wanda shakes her head and chuckles slightly, “You sound just like Papa. He was pissed when he heard.”

“How is he now?” You ask knowing he could get a little reckless when he was angry.

“For now, he’s alright. I told him we could use Kingpin’s greed as an example. We can crush him and in turn teach the others not to try to cross us.”

Your hands reach to rub your temples, “You make it sound so easy.”

“It will be,” you can hear the determination in her voice.

Natasha interjects, “I think Y/n has a point. It’s definitely easier said than done.”

You keep your composure, “Kingpin selling is a problem in itself, but the people should know better than to buy from him. Whoever is making purchases with him is not being loyal to us. That means he’s making allies, or rather he is taking our allies away from us. It strengthens his numbers while diminishing ours. He’s trying to start a revolution.”

Before it could be discussed any further Dragos appears, “We can discuss it more tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate Wanda’s homecoming… and marriage. Dinner is ready.”

You’re the first out of your chair and into the house. It leaves Dragos some time with the couple.

“Remember we only talk business outside of the office, if it is absolutely necessary,” he reminds his daughter.

“She still gets that way?” Wanda asks referring to you.

He shakes his head, “She’s just started brainstorming and it’s hard for her to put it aside. She’s not that timid little girl anymore.”

Wanda lets out an irritated sigh, “Why does everyone keep saying that? I know her just like everyone else, papa. I’ve cared for her, I’ve trained her, and- “

“You missed 5 years of her life; you missed her graduation, you missed her putting all of her training to practical use, you missed her joining the family business. No one is saying that you didn't know her well, but you can’t act like you witnessed her growth.”

“It’s not my fault that I wasn’t there,” she speaks through gritted teeth.

“No one is saying it was, malysh.”

Natasha grabs her wife’s hand, “We’re celebrating you tonight like your father said. Let’s just enjoy this and eat. You never stopped talking about your mother’s cooking and the longer we spend out here, the colder the food gets in there.”

Wanda gets up from her seat, “You’re right. I’m sorry Papa, I’m just not used to being home yet.”

“It’s alright, her growth is startling. I still remember how I felt when Pietro told me she killed a boy. It was a shock; I didn’t want to believe it. She was so delicate that I couldn't picture her doing it.”

“Y/n killed somebody?”

Natasha nods, “She told me about it. Y/n actually has a little ledger, 8 people.”

Wanda’s eyes widen, “She told you about it?”

The conversation stops there, when you come back, “Flora said if you guys don’t come to dinner now that Piet and I can have your plates.”

“You’d eat Wanda’s welcome home meal, that’s pretty criminal even by our standards,” Natasha says pulling her wife along into the house.

“Oh 100%, you would too if you had Flora’s cooking.”

The playful banter continues, even once everyone is sat at the dinner table. Conversation flows freely, but Wanda doesn't contribute much. All that circles her mind is you.

Her father’s words echo in her head. She had missed some of the most important moments of your life. Wanda was scared to admit that she hardly recognized the woman you’ve grown into.

It bothered her. She was jealous that everyone got to see you blossom, but her. Even Wanda’s wife seemed to know things about you that she didn’t. It was a pill that she didn’t want to swallow.

Her little Krolik wasn’t so little anymore.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

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athenagc94 · 3 months ago

Text

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 20

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Some 18+ Content - MDNI - most of it is SFW and it is pretty obvious when NSFW will begin.

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Body Dysphoria, Nipple Play, Making Out

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 20

Dear Brucie,

Did you know that’s what people call you?

I assume you do. How could you not? But I find it hard to believe you revel in the idea of people calling you “Gotham’s Favorite Himbo”. Not that being a himbo is a bad thing, but I want to believe you have more substance than that. A man is more than how many times he falls into a fountain, after all.

Twelve times, in case you were wondering.

You probably weren’t wondering.

I have some exciting news, and no, it has nothing to do with giving up my academic pursuits to live in rural Appalachia (though I stand by the argument from my last letter. The world needs more cryptids, and I could totally pull it off).

If you recall, I entered a writing competition in December. I never thought anything would come of it, but I just got a call saying I was a finalist! Your faith in me hasn’t gone in vain, and now, I have proof.

There’s a showcase in March. More details to come, but I’m allowed to brin two guests, and I think you should be one of them.

Only if you want to, of course.

Don’t feel pressured to come on my behalf, though it would be a good opportunity to properly thank you for your generosity. I don’t make it a habit to thank rich people for doing the bare minimum, but I also recognize that none of this would have happened without you.

Just a thought.

Actually, forget I mentioned it.

This is more than enough.

Jason sighed as he shoved your latest letter in his pocket. His head fell back against the gargoyle that loomed over him, serving as a quiet sentinel that overlooked the city. A rare blue sky stretched on as far as the eye could see. Normal people might bask in a nice day like this, but Jason preferred an overcast sky that carried the promise of rain. Perfect reading weather. But, alas, the sun was the least of his worries.

He should have expected a letter like this one sooner or later, but that didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

This web of lies had grown more complicated as the weeks wore on, with Jason was trapped at its center. Each tug and pull created a hopeless knot and a bigger mess. He wasn’t entirely sure how to break free, but he knew one thing for sure. While you might pretend like it wasn’t a big deal, having Bruce at your showcase would make you happy.

Jason wanted more than anything to see you happy, but Bruce had no idea you existed.

If you approached him at the showcase, his vapid attempts to placate you would sever the web of lies, leaving him in free fall. Jason convinced himself that wasn’t a fall he’d survive, but making Bruce care wasn’t a string he could pull. If it were that easy, the Joker would be dead, and Jason wouldn’t spend his holidays alone.

Maybe he could convince Dick to show up dressed as Bruce?

No, that was stupid. That only worked under the cowl.

He would figure something out before the showcase. Preferably a plan that didn’t involve someone prying into his personal affairs. The fact that certain members of the Bat-brigade knew you existed left him irritable.

Asking for help wasn’t his strong suit.

In fact, he loathed it with every fiber of his being.

Luca was right. Black Mask had enough men that allowed him to move at all hours of the day. Jason’s henchmen were good, but they weren’t detectives. Admitting to you that he had no one else to fall back on should the need arise opened his eyes to the gaps in his plan. Splitting his time between vigilante work, crime lord business, and spending time with you had spread him thin. Something had to give. Black Mask might not be a threat to Red Hood, but he didn’t want innocent bystanders to get hurt because he let something fall through the cracks.

He needed someone smart—both book and street.

And preferably someone with a neutral opinion of Red Hood.

That left him with fewer options on the list of willing vigilantes than he would have liked, but at least there were still options.

Jason rarely operated during the day, but he would grudgingly admit that Bruce trained him well. He knew the patrol routes by heart. All of them. He could pinpoint where a Robin would be down to the minute.

But Signal wasn’t a Robin.

He did things differently. Good on him for breaking away from the Bat-shaped mold. All of them did at some point, but his patrol routes didn’t make a lick of sense. One would think finding a guy dressed in neon fucking yellow would be easy, but it took the better part of the morning to track him down. Stooped in the shadow of the gargoyle, Jason felt oddly exposed with this many people milling about on a sunny day.

Signal came to him, landing at the feet of another gargoyle a few feet away. His uniform reflected the light in a way that left Jason squinting behind his visor.

“What the hell? Day patrols are my thing. You don’t see me stealing your thing, but I totally could. Watch me shred through Crime Alley waving a gun around like a dumbass.”

Maybe neutral wasn’t the right word for Duke’s opinion of him.

Jason pivoted to face him, still huddling between the feet of the gargoyle. “Good to see you too, Signal.”

Duke clucked his tongue. “What do you want? Your territory is on the other side of the city and it’s about…” He checked his wrist. Except he didn’t wear a watch. “…a lot of hours past your bedtime.”

Snarky fucker.

Jason respected it.

“I come in peace.”

“Yeah, no shit. Tim always said you were dramatic, but I hope you’d pick a more practical fighting ground if you wanted to jump me. You also wouldn’t wait for me to come to you.” He smacked his lips. “So, if you don’t want to fight, what do you want with me?”

“I need—” He gagged. Admitting he needed help out loud made him want to vomit. “I need some help.”

A tense beat passed between them.

“And you’re asking me?”

“Yes.”

“No offense to myself, but why?”

“Because you’re smart and you grew up on these streets like I did. You know them as well as I do.”

“I would argue Steph knows them better.”

Jason gritted his teeth. He had a point. Duke grew up in Gotham’s Narrows whereas Steph was born and raised on Park Row like him. While she was the logical choice, she’d be unbearably smug about the whole thing. Involving her would inevitably lead back to Tim and Cass. Cass, he could tolerate fine, but Tim was still on his shit list for telling you someone was reading the letters. His skin crawled just thinking about it.

So, no, he would not be asking Steph for help.

“But I want your help,” he insisted.

“Because if you asked anyone else, they’d involve the others.”

“See. I knew you were smart.”

Duke rolled his eyes, emphasized by the exaggerated flick of his head. “Right. I’m the chosen one because you think I won’t snitch. Thanks for that vote confidence, I guess, but whatever you need, I’m gonna have to pass. I already do day patrol alone. I don’t need your shit too.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I thought you didn’t sell to kids.”

Jason was ready to whip out a lecture on drugs and the lasting impacts they had on one’s life when he noticed the mischievous turn of his mouth. Duke was fucking with him. Wind stolen from his sails, he slumped and said, “I was going to offer to proofread your English papers for the rest of the semester.”

“Bold of you to assume I need help in English.”

This was going about as well as he expected. Unfortunately, Jason didn’t have a lot going for him that Bruce or one of the others couldn’t give Duke already.

“What do you want?”

“College essay topics. Apparently, the admission offices won’t be moved by the whole my parents were jokerized sob story. It isn’t unique enough to make me stand out, according to my advisor.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I hate this city sometimes.”

“Preach.”

College essays were his bread and butter. Not that Jason ever made it that far, but sometimes, when he was feeling particularly spiteful about his lot in life, he’d start a college application knowing full well he’d never hit that submit button. It didn’t stop him from drafting dozens of essays that would bring a whole admission board to tears.

Fuck, maybe Tim was right.

He needed to get a life.

Or at the very least, a new hobby.

“I can think of a few topics that’ll help you stand out from the rest. We can workshop it.”

Duke shook his head in disbelief. “I expected more pushback. You must be desperate.”

“I need someone to watch my territory during the day. Black Mask is prepping for a comeback, and I don’t know what he has planned, but I’ve heard it’s going to be big. It’s possible he’ll try to make moves during the day to throw me off his trail and I physically can’t keep tabs on him at all hours of the day. You don’t have to do anything about it, but if you happen to see something—”

“Say something?” Duke cut in with a smirk.

“How are you more insufferable than the others?”

He shrugged. “You came to me, man. I’m entitled to make you work for it.”

This was precisely why he hated asking for help. He jumped in on the rare occasion they exhausted their list of eligible vigilantes, but when Jason needed something, he had to grovel like a dog.

But he was desperate, so he plastered on a smile and barked.

“Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. I’ll add Park Row to my rotation.” He waved him off. “Now, can I get back to my patrol? I’ve been tracking a couple of Falcone’s guys all morning and I don’t want them slipping through my fingers because we decided to get chummy.”

“Want some help while I’m here?”

Duke smirked. “Only if you can keep up.”

Jason caught himself smile for real this time. “I’ll be running laps around you in no time.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

“And…” His throat tightened before he could finish, rejecting the words that gathered on the tip of his tongue. He cleared his throat and tried again. “And thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”

“How much psychic damage was that right now? 3—no, 6D6?”

“Fuck off.”

***

Jason landed outside your window a few hours later, joints aching and feet dragging across the icy grate. After helping Duke nab Falcone’s guys, he decided to follow a few weak leads to find Black Mask before his regular night rotation.

Nothing came of those leads, no surprise there, but now he had a few hours to rest before he headed out again. He could have gone to one of his safehouses, but he ended up outside your place instead.

Weird, he thought idly as he fiddled with your window.

He balked when it slid open, unlocked despite never mentioning he planned to stop by. Either his appearance had become so routine over the last few weeks that you expected him to come, or you never locked your window. Both options were bad, but one was arguably worse.

Glancing around, you were noticeably absent despite your bag and keys sitting on the kitchen table. Panic sparked in his chest as he stepped further into the room and called out, “Hello?”

“Wha—”

You popped up from where you sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch, a sheet of loose notebook paper stuck to your cheek. “Shit,” you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, “Is it that late already?”

He frowned. “You fell asleep with you window unlocked?”

“I was working on homework with the window unlocked,” you said around a yawn, “The nap took me by force, but would you look at that. No one broke in to kill me. Joyous day.”

Your blatant disregard for your safety would kill him.

Again.

Jason began the arduous process of removing the various layers of his uniform. Boot first, helmet, and so on, each movement automatic and practiced. “Has your workload gotten better yet?”

You laughed hollowly as you peeled the paper from your cheek. “I finished one of my readings before my nap, but I still have, uh, six more to go before Monday.”

He nodded along, listening, but only processing every third word or so. Now that he had finally slowed down, exhaustion settled over him like a wet blanket. “A nap sounds nice.”

You hopped onto the couch, arms resting along the frayed cushions as he fumbled with the various clasps and buckles on his harnesses. His coordination wasn’t nearly as fine-tuned as he would have liked. “It’s a little early for the full Hood getup, isn’t it?”

“Had some business to handle this morning, so I decided to stay out. I’ll head out again later.”

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I hate myself, apparently.”

You were quiet for a moment, the soft clack of metal buckles filling the empty air before you asked, “And you decided to come to my place because?”

Jason stopped, your question bringing a sudden burst of clarity that put everything into razor-sharp focus. He broke into your place and started stripping like he lived here, didn’t he?

“Because…” He wracked his brain, but there was no gas left in the proverbial tank. His hands fell from the buckles on his chest. “I don’t know why I came here.”

“Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but you look ready to keel over any second now.”

“It’s been a long week.”

A long month, a long year, a long life. He really should have asked for help sooner, but stubborn pride got in the way of things that ultimately helped him. Asking Duke had taken a lot out of him. There were a million ways involving Duke could go wrong, all of which he’d considered, but there were also a million ways it could go right. His bruised ego would survive, but for now, he was still feeling a little raw.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can go if you need to focus.”

Your expression softened. “You’re welcome to nap in my bed while I work.”

He blinked. “You want me in your bed?”

“You make it sound like I have nefarious motives. I am a gentile English lady of the softest constitution, Mr. Darcy. Consider my modesty.” You tried to look offended, but the subtle crinkle around your eyes betrayed you. “I’m trying to be considerate. It’s more comfortable than sleeping on my shitty couch.”

Anything was better than the lumpy brick at his place. He woke with more knots on his back that Batman had batarangs. It was probably wiser to invest in a nicer mattress. He wasn’t getting any younger, and his work demanded he be in peak physical form, but he also had a bad habit of going with the cheapest option—side effect of always watching his money and all that jazz.

Again, when he tried to come up with a compelling argument as to why he shouldn’t, he came up short. “Fine,” he said with a shrug.

Once he discarded the rest of his things, he turned back to you, dressed in the thin underlayer of his uniform and his cargo pants slung low around his hips. “Can I wear this in your bed? I don’t want to get it dirty.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I had a problem with what you were wearing,” you said as your attention returned to your homework.

He took that at face value and staggered over to your bed, fading and fast. You decorated the queen-sized bed with pillows of varying shapes and patterns that seemed impractical for sleeping. It was, however, warm and inviting, like everything in your apartment, even as Jason hesitated at the foot of it.

“It won’t bite you, I promise.”

“I know that,” he shot back, sharper than he intended. His fuse shortened considerably when he was tired, but that was a him problem. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. It feels wrong.”

“Elaborate.”

“Sleeping in your bed.” His other hand curled and uncurled at his side before he added, “Without you.”

Mind to mouth filter?

Ha.

That didn’t exist now that he’d passed 36 hours without sleep.

You sat with that for a second before responding. “Did you want me to lay next to you?”

Ever the problem solver.

You made it sound like a reasonable request when reason played no part in his sleep-addled musings. This was purely selfish on his part, but now he felt less awkward saying, “Yes.”

The springs in your couch groaned as you stood, your sharp exhale sounding suspiciously like a laugh. He sensed your presence over his shoulder, still keen despite his exhaustion. You flopped onto the bed, a finger pressed between the pages of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus.

He chose to focus on that as he sprawled out next to you. “That’s one I haven’t read yet.”

“Really? I figured you’d be all over it given the plot.”

His brain was too muddled for the mental gymnastics it would take to figure out what you meant by that. A problem for later, he decided as he buried his face in one of your pillows. He all but moaned. They smelled like you—your shampoo, your laundry detergent, all the scents that created a potent concoction that left his head spinning. He pressed his face more deliberately into the velvet pillow edged with string tassels.

Mercifully, you didn’t comment on how weird he was being. “You’re welcome to read it when I’m done.”

“I’d like that,” was his muffled reply.

Silence followed.

One minute passed, then two. Jason adjusted and readjusted half a dozen times to get comfortable, but nothing felt quite right. He peered up at you, nose still buried in the pillow. You seemed content to sit beside him, fingers pressed to your temple as your eyes darted across the page. With his initial reservations falling by the wayside, Jason came to the startling conclusion that simply laying beside you wasn’t enough and he wanted more.

He rolled onto his side. “Did you want to read on my chest?”

You looked up, a bemused smile curving your lips. He tried to look indifferent, though he could already feel the mask slipping. “Did you want me to lay on your chest to read? Like a weighted blanket?”

He softened like butter. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

Permission was all he needed. His arms hooked around your hips, dragging you with him as he rolled onto his back once more. You pinned him to the mattress, leaving him feeling less like a sailboat fighting to stay afloat during a tumultuous storm. He closed his eyes as his hands settled on your back.

You chuckled as you opened your book on his chest. “Better?”

He hummed. With his eyes still closed, Jason sank back into your collection of pillows as if they were cumulus clouds instead. Alright, he now understood the appeal of the pillows.

Soft instrumental music filtered from the speaker on your phone a few seconds later. A combination of strings and the soft trickle of a piano that reminded him of rain drops on windowpanes. He purred with approval. Minutes passed. Jason teetered on the edge of consciousness, almost, but not quite ready to take the full plunge.

His hand slid under your sweatshirt, seeking the warmth of your skin. Nimble fingers traced the length of your spine, a bra noticeably absent this go absent. His second hand joined the first, tracing intricate patterns on your skin in hopes of lulling himself to sleep. You squirmed a little as he ghosted over a ticklish patch of skin, but you seemed content to let him continue as you flipped to a new page.

Eventually, he found a sweet spot somewhere between lucidity and contentment. His breaths evened out, muscles going loose as his hands came to rest on the small of your back once more.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

It barely crested a whisper, but it was enough to startle him awake. His eyes snapped open, vision clearing after a second. “W-What?”

You hid your face behind your book. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t really sleeping. Don’t feel bad.” His arm curled around your waist. “What’s up?”

“It’s just, well, I knew Titus was one of his bloodier plays, but damn, I wasn’t expecting it to pan out like this. I just got to a scene about Lavinia, Titus’ daughter, and the most horrendous—”

“No spoilers.”

You rolled your eyes. “This play is over 400 years old. It’s a tragedy. I don’t think spoilers apply in this—”

He pressed a finger to your lips.

You froze. His surprise followed a half second later, breaths turning shallow as he traced your bottom lip. It was soft under the pad of his finger. He knew he shouldn’t. Kissing you was an act doomed by the narrative, trapping you both in a hellish limbo whenever he tried to close the distance.

Undeterred by the odds, you dipped your head to capture the tip of his finger in your lips and sucked. Pleasure ripped through him like a crack of lightning, tightening his groin and curling his toes. Jason was a goner from the start, but this sealed the deal.

When he looked back on this moment, he could never remember who closed the distance first, only that your lips eventually met his. It started sweet. Tender in all the ways he imagined a first kiss should be, even if this wasn’t the setting he envisioned for it. He cradled the back of your head, a soft groan rumbling deep in his chest as he slanted his mouth over yours.

Your lips parted on a sigh, warm and inviting. His tongue pressed inside, desperate for a taste. He had, admittedly, imagined this moment a million ways, but the reality was just so much more satisfying. You tossed your books aside and curled your fingers in his collar, pulling him closer with unspoken intent.

Message received.

Jason sat up as you slid comfortably into his lap, the kiss never breaking. He was certain if it had, it would have felt like breaking the surface of water, but he was content to drown in everything you. His hands slid under your shirt once more, roaming with newfound purpose as your lips worked fervently. His thumb brushed hesitantly over the peak over your breast. You shuddered, arching into it. Encouraging. He kept going, circling your nipple until it was a hardened nub while his other hand massaged the other, soft and malleable like clay beneath his fingers.

Your fingers carded through his hair. Pleasure twined with affection as he broke away, vision swimming as he took in the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. You pressed hot, open-mouth kisses along his jaw and down the juncture of his throat. The smooth enamel of your teeth grazed his pulse point and—

His hips bucked involuntarily. “Fuck.”

He could feel your smirk on his skin as your thighs tightened around his hips, anchoring him in place. His reaction was immediate and visceral as he fought the urge to buck again.

“Patience, Mr. Darcy. I want to savor this moment.”

His head spun. “You’re going to kill me ag—”

That thought died on a whimper when you kissed his pulse point instead. Soft enough to steal the air from his lungs. He melted beneath you.

You tugged at the zipper on the front of his underlayer, its slow drag drowning out the soft music coming from your phone. Your hands slid beneath the flaps to explore the broad planes of his chest, ghosting over scars old and new. His skin prickled faintly, the current trajectory of your lips promising.

He wrestled with the sleeves on his uniform, peeling them back until the excess fabric fell around his hips. He wound his arms around your waist and fell back onto the bed, lips molding with yours once more.

He tugged on the hem of your sweatshirt, hoping you would get the hint. You caught on quickly and drew back to pull it over your head, eyes roving over his bare chest. Your lips glistened in the dim light. He gripped the sheets to keep himself from capturing them once more.

The fluid motion of your hands stuttered and fell, lust-filled eyes clearing. “Is that a…”

His grip loosened as he glanced down, already knowing what he’d fine. An autopsy scar spanned the length of his heaving chest and down his stomach, stark against his pale skin. His jaw worked as he grappled for an excuse to soften the blow, but there was nothing to say. He wasn’t going to insult your intelligence by pretending this was anything other than what it was.

Hard as he tried, there was no escape from the tragedy of Jason Peter Todd. It was one of many reasons why he never corrected you when you called him Jacob. At least as Jacob, he could pretend he wasn’t nearly as broken. His body was an exhausted story fixed in time. A constant reminder of all the things he lost. His shortcomings, his failures, all that he wasn’t ready to share. Not with you, not with anyone. He feared something like this would happen, and now that it had, he wanted nothing more than to turn back time.

He stumbled over his words as he shoved his arms back into his sleeves and zipped his uniform to the chin, hiding the offensive scar from view. It wasn’t enough. Under your discerning gaze, it was worse than being stripped bare. You’d already seen the secrets hidden beneath.

Jason could handle a lot, but he refused to accept your pity. It swam with the sadness and heartbreak in your eyes, snagging on his resolve. His nails bit into his Kevlar sleeves as he fought the urge to peel back his skin until there were no more scars, leaving nothing to pity.

“Don’t—please. Disgust, anger. Anything but pity.”

“Jacob, I don’t—”

He recoiled when you reached for him, scooting back until there was nowhere left to go. Cornered like prey. Tears burned his eyes. He wiped them away, cursing the annoying habit of crying when overwhelmed.

“Oh, sweetie. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” You wrapped him in a tight embrace. Jason faltered, unsure whether to shove you away or bury his face in your neck and sob, so he just sat there with tears streaming down his cheeks. You kissed his temple and whispered, “I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m sorry it did.”

Your words hit him like a freight train. The ones who’d taken from him would never apologize. He was a child. Yeah, maybe he’d gotten drunk on the thrill that justice provided, and he felt invincible, but he was still a child that wanted to be good and make the world a better place.

His sacrifice didn’t matter.

Life went on. Jason remained unavenged. It was a bitter truth that hung over his head every hour of every day. He could never escape it. Even when he tried to make a difference now, the people who should have been on his side turned their backs on him instead.

When they looked at him, they saw an angry boy who had turned into a violent man. Someone who was irredeemable. A lost cause. He was so much more than that.

Why couldn’t anyone see that?

You smoothed his hair. “You didn’t deserve it.”

Something inside him shattered. Jason collapsed in your arms with a shuddering sob. Between your soft assurances, you kissed his hairline, his temple, the scar on his cheek, showering him with affection until he had no more tears left to shed. He clung to you, worrying the fabric of your sweatshirt between his fingers.

“Sorry for ruining the moment,” he mumbled, shame burning at his cheeks.

“Never apologize for something like this.” You squeezed him tighter.

“But I’m a mons—”

“No. Stop that thought right in its tracks. That wasn’t an invitation to tear yourself down, You’re not a monster. I never thought that about you, and I still don’t,” you muttered against his hair, “If you really want to talk about this, we can do that later, but tonight, you’re tired and emotions are high. Just sit here and let me comfort you.”

His fingers curled in your shirt, fearing he’d fall to pieces if you let go of him before he was ready. He dipped his nose toward the slope of your neck, forcing himself to breathe as he pulled himself back together.

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

A/N: So... there was your kiss, but at what cost?

Anyway, welcome to Duke Thomas, we're happy to have him on the team. Thanks so much for reading and interacting. It's always fun to chat with people!

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