#pushing thoughts of angst away and trying to make his escape
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tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending
(ao3 link or read below)
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“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”
He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?
His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.
He just wanted to sleep.
“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”
Athena! That's who was speaking to him.
He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!
“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.
Whiskey and... and metal.
Blood.
“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”
It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.
“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.
“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”
Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.
“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”
“They're not on shift, Tommy.”
He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.
“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”
“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.
I can't let him see.”
“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”
In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”
*****
He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.
It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.
It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.
He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.
Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.
After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.
He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.
He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!
He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.
He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.
Tonight he was oblivious.
He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.
But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.
He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”
It only made things worse.
He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.
Then there was nothing.
Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.
Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.
*****
The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.
His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.
“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”
The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.
“Ed- Eddie?”
God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.
“Yeah, I'm here.”
He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.
“Wha- Why?”
Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”
Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.
He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.
“Tommy-”
“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”
“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”
Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”
“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”
Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.
Nearly beat to death.
He was nearly beat to death.
Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”
“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”
Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.
“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.
Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”
“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”
Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”
Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”
Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”
Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”
Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”
“You didn't.”
“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”
“Please tell me you didn't.”
“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”
“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”
Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.
Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”
Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.
Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”
“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.
“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”
Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.
“I wanna see," he repeated.
“Tommy-”
“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.
Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.
Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.
The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”
He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.
His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.
“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”
It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.
“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”
“Tommy-”
“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”
“No.”
Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”
“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”
He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.
“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.
“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”
Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”
With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.
*****
Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.
Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.
She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.
Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.
Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.
Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.
These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.
That'd be a lot easier than this.
Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.
He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.
*****
As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.
The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.
Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.
“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.
Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”
Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”
“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”
Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”
“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”
Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.
“Who knew what?”
“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”
“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”
The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”
Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”
Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”
“That doesn't really answer my question.”
“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”
“You can't be serious right now.”
“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”
“Tommy, can you look at me?”
Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.
“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”
“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”
“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”
“Buck, you don't-”
“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”
Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”
“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”
*****
They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.
They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.
Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.
Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”
They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.
So, a fight was expected.
What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.
Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.
Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.
When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.
“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”
“I'll help you there.”
“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”
Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”
And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”
Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”
“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”
“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”
“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”
“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”
How in the hell did they end up here?
“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.
He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”
“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”
“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”
“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”
“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.
Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”
“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”
“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”
Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”
Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”
Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”
They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.
Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”
Tommy nodded. “It is.”
“Took us long enough.”
Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”
“I think I would have felt better if you did.”
“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”
Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”
They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.
The fight wasn't much, but it was something.
It was enough.
For now.
*****
“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.
“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”
Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”
Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”
Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.
Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.
"I know."
“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.
“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”
“Good. That's... That's good.”
“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”
Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.
“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.
“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”
“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”
Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”
Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”
Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”
“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”
“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”
“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”
#bucktommy#911#911 abc#evan buckley#tommy kinard#there was gonna be so much more here but I needed to release it into the world#and from my mind#sorry if there are errors#i didn't get to read over it very well#let me know if I need to add more tags#I usually forget something somewhere
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Then it would only be second to death.....
Hozier x fem!reader
Author's note: this shouldn't have taken me a month.
Masterlist
Summary: Following their chance run-in at the farmers market, Andrew shows up at Y/n's house. Part 2 of What if this is the last time I see you?
Warnings: Angst
“I’m right here,” he threads his fingers through his hair, “right here. We’re getting married, it doesn’t get any more present than that.”
Y/n scoffs, turning away from him, and Andrew knows that it’s because he’s brought her to tears – she hates when people see her crying. He hates making her cry. “Is that why we’re getting married?” Her voice breaks and she quickly swipes at her cheek, “so you can prove to yourself that you want to be here?”
“I want to be here,” when he takes a step towards her, Y/n takes one backwards and shifts her shoulder. He winces at the gesture, as if she’s actually pushed him away – though he supposes that in a way, she has. “I’m here –”
“You keep saying that but you’re not!” When she finally looks at him, her eyes are wide and glassy. He’s trying to think of the last time he heard her yell, but he quickly realizes that such a memory doesn’t exist. “You're at the studio, you’re in L.A….you’re on tour –”
“I'm working,” he grits.
“So am I. But I don’t forget that you exist when I do.” He’s irrationally offended by her comment; Andrew has never forgotten that she exists, he’s just been…..compartmentalizing. When he’s at work, he’ll work – when he’s with her, they’ll be together.
But when was the last time they’ve been together? When was the last time he’s taken her out or just sat down with her on the couch with her? Gone to bed the same time she has?
He can’t immediately remember – it must’ve been months ago.
But she should understand; that's what being with him means sometimes. It's not some well-kept secret, Y/n knows him – and he's the same person he was when they first met.
So he says that.
“You have always known who I am,” the minute the pointed words leave his mouth, Andrew regrets them and the only thing he wants more than to pluck them out of the tension-riddled air and shove back into his mouth. The look on her face is one he’s never seen her wear before, and it might be because she’s never been hurt that badly before.
The tears in her eyes. The quiver in her lips. The visible tightness in her throat. The way her cheeks suddenly seem hollow and it looks like she’s holding her breath.
“Right,” the word is broken up by a strain in her throat, “you’re right. You have much more important things going on. It was silly of me to assume that for once you’d put us first –”
“No,” he reaches out, but Y/n pulls away and grimaces, as if the thought of his touch is physically painful, “honey, that’s not what I meant,” he swears, breath is escaping him and he’s struggling to come up with the words that will fix things, “you’re misunderstanding –”
Again, Y/n brushes her face with the back of her hands, “no, I think, for the first time, I understand you perfectly,” he protests when she starts taking her ring off, but Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it – or particularly care. “I’ll come back for my things,” she says, slipping the little, emerald cut, Welsh gold ring into the breast pocket of his camel-coloured coat.
“Please don’t go,” he rasps, loosely gripping her shoulders, “please.”
“I just need to get away for a while,” Y/n offers softly, standing on her toes and holding onto her shoulder as she reaches to kiss him. He bends his head mechanically to allow her lips to meet his cheek. When she pulls away, it feels like he’s suffocating and while Andrew knows that going after her as she heads for the door has the potential to make all the difference, he can’t get his legs to move. The air is thin, his head is swimming and his legs feel like they're made of cement. So he does nothing but regret everything.
There’s so much he’d do differently, but Andrew thinks the thing that he’d change first is that moment when Y/n told him that it felt like there was an immeasurable distance between them. It was following a forgotten appointment with a wedding planner he’d meant to hire as part of an early wedding present but had neglected to, he hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten until he got home and found her on the sofa, coat and keys discarded on the coffee table and eyes red-rimmed. Andrew can’t quite remember what had made him forget, but in the moment it had seemed more important than their wedding – except now he’s forgotten all about it but the memory of her telling him that she’s lonely in their relationship, and that he feels light-years beyond reach is still fresh in his mind.
Unbridgeable – that was the exact word she’d used.
“I can’t get to you,” she says, the hazy blue film of such a bruising memory shrouds the glassiness of her eyes but barely hides the thick emotion in her throat, “I keep trying, hoping you'll let me get close. I want to be with you, be there for you but most of the time I can’t tell what you’re thinking — I'm not sure if you even want me around. Whatever’s between us its……unbridgeable.”
Unbridgeable.
It makes him think of oceans and gaping canyons. That unmeasurable distance between the deepest point of the sea and the barest end of space. Unreachable – was he really that bad?
So far away that for every time they kissed, Y/n felt like she was locking lips with a memory she never made?
It doesn’t matter though, because to her, it certainly felt that way.
Andrew is sitting in the driver's seat, glazed over eyes staring at the way rain beats down on his windshield. He’s been parked outside her house for longer than anything that would constitute a normal amount of time – though, he doesn’t exactly know where the threshold between normal and creepy ex-boyfriend is.
Well, ex-fiance. Though, he isn’t sure if semantics matter.
The gentle buzz of the engine is the only thing joining the swoosh of the near violent downpour. They haven’t experienced rain like that in a while; swollen droplets pouring from the milk sky in a slanted fashion. So intense that even the tallest trees seem to be weighed down by the weight of it, branches adopting a downward curve and leaves hanging despondently.
And still, it isn't the prospect of getting drenched on the brief walk to her front door that stops him from getting out of the car. It's the fear that he’s making a bigger mistake than he did five years ago that rivets him to the driver's seat, fingers still curved around the bottom of the wheel, the tips of his toes tapping the gas pedal as the car lingers in park.
She’s been more of a constant on his mind since that meeting at the farmers market a week ago, than she has been in the past few years. Still, Andrew wasn’t going to drive to her place that night, but somewhere between his first and second beer of the night, with a record that she gifted him playing as he tried to read – but couldn’t – it dawned on him; what if she was it?
Andrew hardly believes in true love or anything of the sort, but he does believe that every once in a while the stars align so perfectly that constellations are more visible and more beautiful than they’ve ever been, and you meet someone whose life changes the trajectory of yours forever. You're meant to be intertwined, like roots twisting and tangling around each other in that graceful, effortless way.
What if she's all of that to him, and much, much more, but he never sees her again? Because that was the last time; it must be some kind of death – to never feel her eyes on him again, to only ever hear her voice in his memory for the rest of his life, like a phantom haunting his mind. To never again feel the way it does when her arms go around him and she presses her body to his, and suddenly they’re nothing more than two puzzle pieces, made with each other in mind.
That little epiphany came over Andrew in a rush, knocking the air from his chest and making him feel as if he’d just been tackled by a wave and smashed face first into freezing cold water. In his chest, he felt a sort of panic that he could only associate with drowning rise up, threatening to spill out of his throat. He didn’t think he could live like that.
He still doesn't think that a life that she is gone from is survivable.
But as he parked along the curb near her driveway, one fear gives way to another;
What if Y/n doesn’t feel the same way at all? What if she doesn’t regret their untimely demise as much as he does? What if the best love he’s ever gotten nothing but a figment of the past? Lost forever, so far behind him that its entirely out of reach.
What if he does get out of his car, beats against the angle of the rain and trudges to her front door, only for her to tell him that she doesn’t want them anymore?
That she’d actually heard when he said he’d missed her, but pretended not to so she wouldn’t have to deal with the messiness of his feelings.
That might be the only thing worse than never seeing her again. And that is why he’s still in the car.
But he won’t know unless he tries, right? It isn’t the reasoning with the most integrity, but its the only thing keeping him there – he just wishes it was enough to get him out of the damn car.
Andrew is staring at a window, a window that he knows with absolute certainty looks into the living room, when he notices the thin, sheer curtain shift slightly. The movement doesn’t last long enough for him to determine who the person behind the window is, but when the front door swings open a handful of seconds later and Y/n steps into the middle of the doorway, Andrew spares himself from thinking too hard on the matter.
She’s holding her cardigan closed at the front, and it falls to the middle of her thighs, effectively hiding the shorts he knows she’s wearing underneath. By the silvery glow of the rainy evening and the sickening yellow hue of the bulb mounted over the porch, Andrew can see her form on the threshold, frozen, like something plucked out of his memories.
He can see her again, one leg crossed over the other as she leans on the doorframe as she watches him playing the piano;
“That sounds nice, its new?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, lifting his fingers off the keys and turning to look at her, “like it?”
Y/n hums, pushing off the frame and sauntering over to him, feet bare and dressed in nothing but the crewneck he’d been wearing the evening before. When her fingers, delicate and gentle, clasp his broad shoulders, Andrew leans into her touch, allowing her to eventually slink them forward. “I love it, its so beautiful,” with her fingers splayed on his chest, Y/n bends so her chin sits on his shoulder, “would you teach me how to play it?”
He chuckles. In all the years they’ve known each other, Y/n has never been interested in learning to play an instrument – she always jokes about being tone deaf. “You sure?”
“Positive,” her lips on his cheek are quick, he almost misses the sensation before fully registering it and if it weren't for the resolve in her eyes, Andrew would pull her in for another, longer kiss.
“Alright,” he reaches for her hand, encouraging her to slip it off his shoulder before guiding her around the small, varnished, oak bench. Y/n goes to sit beside him, but Andrew’s hand on her hip, sneaked under the hem of the thick jumper, urges her onto his lap. “This is better,” he rasps, breath tickling her jaw as he presses his cheek to hers, the bristle of his beard on her skin making her giggle.
“This is how you’d teach somebody?” She laughs, and the sound, coupled with the way she leans against him, makes his chest feel full.
“This is how I’d teach you, sweetheart.” When Y/n angles her head to catch a glimpse of him, he can see the warmth in her cheeks, and takes the opportunity to steal a peck off her lips, “now, pay attention.”
Her hands are much smaller than his, making it easy for him to completely cover them with his long fingers. “I’m gonna show you,” he breathes, “and then you’ll try on your own.” Slowly, he guides her through a single line of the melody he’d been working on. “Do you understand?” He props his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. He loves having Y/n this close, he isn’t sure if he’s ever told her but there’s something about the weight of her on top of him that stirs a sensation that he’s never felt anywhere else. Maybe its peace or comfort or safety – maybe its some combination of all three, wrapped into one magical thing.
“No,” Y/n returns, tone flat, albeit just as hushed as his.
Andrew barks a chuckle that turns out louder than he expected it to be. “You’re not paying attention,” he reprimands gently.
“I’m trying,” Y/n defends, voice pitched, “but my teacher is…….distractingly close.”
“Don’t blame this on me,” he scoffs, wrapping his arms around her middle, squeezing her to him. Her shoulders shake in a fit of laughter as he peppers her neck in a series of ticklish kisses as he loses himself in the way the cologne still clinging to his jumper mingles with the remnants of lavender left behind by her body wash.
“I’m not gonna learn to play this, am I?” Y/n shifts when he pulls away for a brief moment. Her head is tilted a little, mouth barely a hair away from his and the barest tips of their noses are touching.
Lifting one of his hands to thread his fingers threaded through her hair, Andrew eagerly closes the sliver of distance, “not today you’re not.”
A crack of thunder jolts Andrew out of the memory and in an instant, he’s back in the confines of his car, gaze fixed on Y/n as she lingers in the doorway. He needs to get out of that damn car – that prison that's kept him from her long before she pointed it out.
On impulse, he hastily shuts the engine off, and pushes the door open. Within a minute of getting out and shutting the door, Andrew’s coat and the sweater he’s wearing under it is soaked through and his hair is matted to the sides of his face. His shoes hit the gently sloped driveway with a wet, squishing sound with each step as he trudges towards the front door.
“Andrew, what the fuck?" Y/n breathes when he stops at the bottom of the porch steps.
He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The rain is still pounding against his back and head, but he doesn’t dare take another step forward. “I had to see you,” he explains simply. Roughly, he brushes some wet hair away from his brow, “I just-I can't…..I can’t live like that –”
“Andy –”
“No,” he cuts her off desperately, “I know you don’t want me here,” he licks his lips, “but you need to hear this – I need you to hear this,” he pauses, but not near long enough for her to get a word in. “I just….I was thinking….what if that was the last time we saw each other? Could you live like that? Cause I couldn’t. Not without looking for you everywhere I go; every bookstore, at the grocery, every street. At the fucking farmer’s market,” where he’ll linger at every vendor selling strawberries on the off chance of running into her. “Just everywhere,” in every reflection when he pauses to look at a storefront and on planes that take him to places she wouldn’t go without plausible reason, “But I’d never find you because that was the last time.” Swallowing thickly, he ducks his head and wet tendrils fall over his face, disrupting his view of their feet, his clad in water-logged converse, and hers bare with blue, painted nails. “I know you said that I’m good on my own, and I guess I used to be,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “but I’m not anymore. And I’ll never be again –”
“Andy –”
“Please,” finally, he comes up the trio of steps that leads to her small, covered porch. “I’m different now.”
Y/n slumps her shoulders, tilting her head slightly to the side as she blinks away tears, “I was just gonna tell you to come inside,” she says softly when he stops, “you’re gonna catch a cold or something,” there’s a crack in her voice and Y/n scoffs when a lone tear creeps down her cheek. She doesn’t even want to think of him getting sick on her account, especially when he’ll probably be all alone and miserable. She thinks about that sometimes – who’s taking care of him when he forgets to take care of himself?
With the back of her sleeve, Y/n brushes at her cheek before reaching for one of his hands. “I never wanted you to be….different. I wanted…..I wanted you to be who you are….but right next to me,” her thumb grazes his knuckles and Andrew revels in a miniscule shred of contact. It's nothing compared to having her in his lap or her arms around his shoulders, but it's more than he’s had in a damn long time and he’s never been more grateful for anything else.
“I can do that now,” Andrew promises earnestly.
Sighing heavily, she glances away, “but I don’t know that. I won’t live like that again,” so haunted by something she almost has, but never truly will. The ‘almost’ that he became. Almost close enough to let her in, almost ready to let his guard down, almost her husband.
“You won't have to,” Andrew gives her hand a promising squeeze, “I swear. I swear to you, it’ll be different –”
“But I don’t –”
“I can’t live like this,” he urges, “I can’t….” Andrew shakes his urgently, “do you still love me?”
Y/n’s slumps her shoulders, “of course I do.” How could she not? After pouring so many years into their relationship, after years aching to break the wall he kept between them. After spending every minute since the one she took the ring off – the one that makes her hand feel like it's missing something even now – thinking about what they could have been. Really, dare he ask her that?
“Then how could you never want to see me again?” He asks desperately.
A sharp inhale is her initial response, and Y/n thinks back on those first moments after Andrew had approached her the week before – the relief she felt in seeing him, the way that when they hugged, it felt like something was finally going right in her life. There’s so much she’d kept to herself that day, mostly because she was so sure that he was over her and couldn’t possibly still be thinking of them, not the way she does. Everyday when she steeps tea that she doesn’t really like, or goes out into her garden but can’t think straight, because it was something they'd done together.
Its why she let the strawberry bushes die, and weeds overtake the flowers along the back fence before clearing them out.
“I could never want that,” Y/n finally manages, voice soft and fragile, “I think about you all the time.” The strawberries have been rotting in her fridge because she can barely stand to look at them without recalling what it felt like to slip that ring into his pocket.
The warmth the metal had soaked up from being on her finger, the crack in his voice when he said, “honey, please.”
“Then come back,” he rasps, letting go of her hand in favor of taking a gentle hold on her hips.
Y/n’s find his chest, fistfuls of his wet hoodie bunching up in her fingers, the fabric heavy and cold. “Don’t hurt me again,” she pleads softly, inching closer.
Andrew lifts one of his hands from her hip to cup her cheek, his long fingers dwarfing the side of her face, “I wouldn’t.” He roves his thumb over the apple of her cheek, and his breathing settles a little. He hadn't realized just how on-edge he’d felt since she left until right now, when he’s touching her again and it feels like the first inkling of peace he’s had in five years. “I don’t want us to be strangers,” Andrew adds.
“Just let me in then,” Y/n encourages in the same, hushed tone.
Swallowing thickly, he nods, “I will. I want to,” lowering his head, Andrew presses his forehead to hers. “You’re the only person I want this close – for my whole life, I just want it to be you.”
When their lips meet, he feels her shudder just as a shiver runs up his back. It isn't from the cold, or the uncomfortable way in which the fabric is sticking to his skin. It's from the realization that there's never been a homecoming quite like this one. There isn't anything that compares to this; it's like having some lost part of himself snap back into its rightful place.
“Please,” he rasps against the plush softness of her lips, “please let it be you.”
Whatever little resolve she's managed to build up over the years, the scraps that kept her from seeking him out after she walked out, has been entirely ebbed away. Staying away is easier when he isn't at her doorstep, offering her exactly what she's wanted for so long. “Always,” with one hand flattened against the center of his chest, she reaches up to brush away some wet hair matted to his damp brow. “It’ll always be me,” she promises earnestly;
No one can love him the way she does anyway, its a fact that Y/n is entirely certain of.
When she presses her lips to his again, the rain is still coming down around them, though while the sound has been suffocating, Andrew finds that its fading now – all the noises that seem to make the world a little unbearable is so much quieter, and he thinks it might be the universe’s way of telling him that this is the way things are meant to be.
******
Tagging: @tungledotfuck
#hozier#andrew hozier byrne#hozier x reader#hozier x you#hozier x y/n#hozier fanfiction#fanficton#fanfic#what if this is the last time I see you?#then it would only be second to death
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Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 947 WC NSFW 18+
Masterlist
Warnings: sex, L bombs, female reader, p in v, slight angst, cute ending, rough sex
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You held Christian tight; arms around his neck breathing his scent in. He patted your sides lightly, signaling for you to let go. You did so, an embarrassed blush settling on your cheeks. Christian led you through the crowd of fans and paparazzi in the airport until you made it to the car waiting for you both outside. Once in you snuggled up to Christian. He leaned away from you. Your heart sank, six months away on tour and this is how he feels seeing you for the first time. You moved away, leaning away from him as you looked out the window the rest of the ride home. You checked on Christian every so often, looking at him every once in a while. His face was unreadable; blank but also pensive. You watched the city pass by as your thoughts consumed you. The worst replaying over and over again - he wants to break up. You hardly remember going up to the apartment. When the door shut you leaned against it, your fingers fiddling with each other.
“Christian I can tell something is wrong… if it is about us I’d rather you just tell me than give me the cold shoulder. If… if you want to break up just te…”
Christian cut you off, pressing you against the door with his body as he kissed you fervently. You stood still for a moment shocked at the quick turn of events before you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. He leaned down, breaking off the kiss to trail sloppy kisses over your neck. He sucked little marks into your soft skin causing you to let out a whimper. You wore nothing more than a thin tank top due to the crushing heat outside. Christian easily slipped his hands under the flimsy material, caressing you needily.
“Bedroom…” you whispered as you kissed up his neck to his jawline.
Christian responded almost instantly, gripping your thighs before lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around him, lacing your hands through his hair as you continued to kiss him. Sharing breaths between each other, trying to rest your bruised lips yet not being able to get enough of each other. You giggled slightly when he bumped into the walls, trying his best to locate the bedroom while completely transfixed on you.
He set you down on the bed, towering above you. “How do you want it, my love?” he said, his voice deep and husky from the immense lust he felt for you.
“Rough.” you said with a wicked smile.
Christian didn’t hesitate to flip you over, your chest against the bed but your ass high in the air. Christian wasted no time moving your lengthy skirt to the side. He let out a groan at the sight before him, “No panties? That’s my good girl, always ready for me with a needy cunt.” he said, dragging two fingers through your already slick folds.
You shuttered at the contact, “Please…” you mewled.
Christian chuckled, he gave you no time to adjust before plunging his cock into you. You almost screamed at the sensation. Your tight hold strangling him after not having him for months. “Fuck baby…” he gasped, pulling out and running the tip of his cock through your folds, paying special attention to your clit. Your legs started to shake, Christians strong hands moved to rest on your hips. “You alright?” he asked gently.
You nodded quickly, pushing your hips back against him, begging him to fuck you. And he did just that, this time slowly inching his cock into you making you both moan. He set a fast pace, battering against you just how you liked it. Your knuckles were white as they gripped the sheets. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, how your ragged breaths did nothing to stop the moans and whines escaping your mouth without your consent. Christian gathered your hair in his hand, yanking you up slightly. He sped up his thrusts, yanking your hair every so often making you cry out in pleasure. Your nipples skimmed against the sheets as Christian held you up, increasing the bolts of electricity that cascaded over your skin. You felt his other hand wrap around your waist, drawing fast circles over your clit repeatedly. You cried out as your body shook, waves of pleasure crushing you.
Christian let go of your hair, watching your body slump against the bed. Yet you continued to rut against him, wanting to drag out your high as long as you could. He maintained the slow circles on your clit until you cried out for him to stop. As your cunt spasmed around him for a final time Christian held you tight to him, his cock buried deep inside you. You felt him cum as his fingers dug into your sides. He leaned down, kissing up your spine. “I love you.” he said.
You slowly rolled onto your back as Christian pulled out. You held out your hand, which Christian gladly took, climbing into bed next to you. You cuddled into his chest, still trying to regulate your breathing. Even closing your legs was a struggle due to how sensitive you were. Christian pulled a thin blanket over the two of you, a peaceful calm resting over you both.
“I gave you the cold shoulder because I knew the second I laid my hands on you I had to have you like this.” he said against the crown of your head.
You chuckled slightly, “And to think you wanted to break up with me.”
Christian squeezed you tighter, “Never, I want you close to me. Always.”
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Naboo's Note:
Hello :) just a quick smut for our boy. I got offered a job so things are looking up! I'll be working as an orderly in a mental hospital and I'm honestly really excited. I hope everyone is doing well and to all who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving! Stay safe and be well! XOXOXOXOXOXOX
#writing#christian yu x y/n#christian yu x reader#christian yu#dpr#dprian twitter#dpr ian x y/n#dpr ian#dpr ian x reader#dpr ian smut#dpr ian fluff#mito
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Tommy Week Masterlist!
(all bucktommy except day six which is bucktommy plus tommy/omc)
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the slightest touch
Day one: masturbation | Words: 3,917 | Rated: E
Established Relationship | Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot | Masturbation | Sexting | Phone Sex | Dom/sub Undertones | Praise Kink
Home, he texts Evan as he heads for the kitchen and the leftover lasagne in the fridge. Miss you. After eating and showering, Tommy collapses into bed, bone weary and feeling a little sorry for himself without his boyfriend's bare chest to snuggle into. Almost as if Evan is listening to his thoughts, Tommy's phone dings with a message and he opens it to see a photo of him, shirtless and smirking into the mirror of the bathroom at the 118. Miss you too.
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with or without you
Day two: acceptance | Words: 3,407 | Rated: G
POV Tommy Kinard | Post-Episode: s08e06 Confessions | Light Angst | Making Up
It's not the first time since they'd broken up that Tommy has driven to Evan's - Buck's - place after work instead of his own. This is, however, the first time he's halfway out of the car before he's realised where he is, and he turns back to his truck in a mild panic, hoping, praying, that he doesn't see anyone he knows before he can escape his stupid mistake. Apparently the universe has other ideas. "Tommy?"
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more than fine
Day three: supernatural creatures | Words: 1,701 | Rated: G
POV Tommy Kinard | Established Relationship | Fluff and Humor | Tommy is a movie guy | and Buck definitely isn't
"So, what did you think?" Tommy asks, holding the door open for Evan as they leave the movie theater. "And you can be honest." He slides his hand into Evan's as they start along the sidewalk back to the loft, strolling leisurely as the sun sets across the city. "Can I, though?" Evan teases, bumping Tommy's shoulder with his own. "You're not going to dump me if I don't like another one of your favourite movies?"
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heavy on me
Day four: dom/sub dynamics | Words: 4,128 | Rated: E
POV Tommy Kinard | Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot | Bottom Tommy Kinard | Dom/sub Undertones | Mild Praise Kink | Anal Fingering | Anal Sex | Evan gets his reward...
Once the dishes are put away, Evan turns to him, clearly trying not to be too pushy but with a hopeful look on his face nonetheless. Tommy steps into his space with a smirk, sliding his hands around his waist and pulling him close as he leans in to whisper in his ear. "Where do you want me, baby?" he breathes, feeling the shiver that his words send down Evan's spine.
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long time coming
Day five: anxiety/PTSD | Words: 1,949 | Rated: G
POV Tommy Kinard | Past Child Abuse | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | With a fluffy ending
Your father's dead. His aunt's voice echoes in his head, churning up all sorts of feelings he doesn't know what to do with, and he sits, staring blankly at the phone in his hand. Wrapped his car around a streetlamp. Three sheets to the wind as always. "Hey babe," Evan calls from down the hall, voice becoming louder as he walks towards their bedroom, "did you say you're off next Thursday night-" Tommy feels more than sees his frown as he pushes the door open, pausing in the doorway as he catches sight of him. "Tommy?"
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old flames, new fires
Day six: flashbacks/Tommy begins | Words: 3,127 | Rated: G
POV Tommy Kinard | Past Relationship | Soft Tommy Kinard | Flashbacks | Tommy bumps into an ex at trivia night...
The picture round arrives with the interval, and they're hunched around the sheet, arguing over a country outline that has them a little stumped when a figure approaches their table hesitantly. "Tom?" he says, and Tommy looks up in surprise. "Oh my god, Mateo?" he says, eyes wide as he stands to greet him. "Yeah," Mateo replies, grinning, and Tommy doesn't miss the way he looks him up and down appreciatively. "Man, how long has it been?"
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sweet surprise
Day seven: unexpected events | Words: 3,151 | Rated: E
POV Tommy Kinard | Established Relationship | Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard | Fluff | Mild misunderstandings | Tommy Kinard is loved
"Thanks," Evan says, tipping the driver as Tommy climbs out of the car, looking around in confusion. "I thought we were going to Miceli's?" he asks, turning to Evan with a raised eyebrow. "Change of plan," Evan replies, snaking his hand into Tommy's and leading him inside the rowdy looking bar they've been dropped at, clearly trying to hide a smile.
#21.380 words in a week!!#so impressed with myself that I managed to get them all done on time#char writes a thing#911#911 fic#bucktommy#tevan#kinkley
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touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc. part 2
a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.
it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.
after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.
"everything okay?"
you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.
"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."
"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.
you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.
"you should keep the apartment."
"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"
"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."
your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.
you didn't know what you were expecting.
stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.
"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."
you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."
"you're not-"
"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."
you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.
hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.
it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.
you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.
"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.
"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"
"do you have any names in mind?"
"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."
when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.
"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"
"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."
for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...
the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.
"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."
rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"
"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."
rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.
untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"
you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.
you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.
"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."
rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.
"look. that's our baby."
"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."
just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.
you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.
you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.
"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.
"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.
"what's wrong?"
"i'm pregnant."
without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.
to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.
his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.
you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.
a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.
and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.
an engagement ring.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#drew starkey#outer banks fanfiction#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron obx#outer banks rafe#obx season 4#obx4#rafe cameron angst#angst#rafe x you#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#outer banks fic#rafe cameron fluff
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Cry For Me
Pairing: DomCEO!Hongjoong x SubSecretary!Reader
Genre: Smut 18+, slight angst, PWP, Office!AU
Notes: Cheating (don’t do it yall. this is just fiction), Unprotected sex (wrap it up!!! do not try this irl, it is pure fantasy!), explicit language, dacryphilia kink, humiliation, degrading, power fixation, Hongjoong lowkey manipulates (but for the better ig lol)
Word Count: 13k (condensed some ideas to bring down the word count LOL)
Authors note: This is pure horny imagination and in NO WAY, reflects on the characters in real life! If you do not like this type of content pls ignore or block me.
Pt. 2 | Pt. 3
———————————————————————
As you stepped into your apartment, the night sky cast a deep blue glow through the windows, shimmering like a vast ocean. The warm glow of the sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the entryway and casting soft shadows on the walls. You paused for a moment, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips, echoing in the stillness of the room.
It was the fifth time this month that your boyfriend had canceled on you, and each time felt like another nail in the coffin of what once seemed like a blossoming romance. The disappointment settled heavily in your chest, making each step toward the kitchen feel more burdensome than the last.
With a determined resolve, you made your way to the fridge, the familiar chill greeting you as you opened the door. Your fingers closed around a half-filled bottle of wine, the label slightly crumpled from the many times it had been hastily put back. You pulled it out, and reached for a glass. You stare blankly as you poured the wine, watching as the dark liquid rose to the rim, glistening in the soft light. Without hesitation, you brought it to your lips, taking a few deep gulps, each swallow both comforting and numbing. As the warmth spread through you, tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, a familiar sensation that you had tried so hard to push away.
The memories of the past 2 years flooded back—Siwoo’s laughter, the shared moments that now felt like distant echoes. But lately, he had become a stranger, his warmth replaced by an impenetrable distance. You had tried to reach out, to bridge the growing gap, but each time ended in disappointment. Now, standing in your quiet apartment, you felt a profound sense of loss that had settled deep within you, leaving you feeling numb, as if you were merely going through the motions of life without truly living it.
You quickly wiped your tears away, the salty tracks on your cheeks feeling foreign yet familiar. With each brush of your fingers, the sadness that had threatened to overwhelm you twisted into something sharper—anger.
*Ding.*
The sudden sound pulled your attention away from your thoughts. You turned your head toward your phone, its screen lighting up with a notification. The sight of Siwoo's name, accompanied by a little heart, made your heart sink further.
Siwoo <3: I’m sorry I cancelled again. Please don’t hate me. I’ll see you on your lunch tomorrow.
You stared at the message, the words blurring momentarily as your vision wavered. Another empty promise. With a shaky hand, you raised your glass to your lips, the bitter taste of the wine filling your mouth as you took another long gulp. It was a poor substitute for the warmth you once felt from Siwoo's presence.
You couldn't bring yourself to respond—not now. You needed a few moments to gather your swirling emotions, to avoid lashing out with the hurt and anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The silence of the apartment enveloped you, amplifying your racing thoughts and making the weight of his message all the more suffocating.
Once you finished the rest of the wine bottle, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a fraction. You turned away from your phone, not wanting to see another message or another reminder of the chasm that seemed to grow between you. With heavy steps, you made your way to the bedroom.
You plopped down onto the bed, the soft sheets cradling you in their embrace. As your body sank into the mattress, fatigue overtook you, pulling you into a deep slumber. In the quiet darkness, you hoped for dreams that could somehow soothe the ache in your heart, if only for a little while.
———
The next day dawned with a muted light filtering through the curtains, the world outside still waking up. You rolled over, disoriented for a moment, before the reality of the day ahead crashed over you. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, the remnants of last night’s indulgence weighing heavily in your mind.
As you shuffled to the bathroom, the headache from downing that last glass of wine throbbed at your temples, a persistent reminder of your restless night. You cursed under your breath, regretting the decision to finish the bottle in a moment of vulnerability.
You quickly went through the motions of your morning routine. Your job as the secretary for one of the most well-known CEOs in the Creative Arts Institution required precision and poise, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had kept you up late. You dressed in a tailored blouse and a pencil skirt, the fabric smoothing against your skin as you adjusted the collar. The mirror reflected a professional exterior, yet you felt anything but composed inside.
After applying a touch of makeup to mask the fatigue in your eyes, you gathered your things—laptop, planner, and the ever-essential cup of coffee that awaited you in the kitchen.
———
As you step into the tall building, the morning sun filters through the glass façade, casting geometric shadows across the polished marble lobby. The familiar bustle of your colleagues greets you, their voices merging with the gentle hum of fluorescent lights. You nod and smile as you greet in response. You make your way to the elevator, its silver doors glinting in the light. Pressing the button for the top floor, you mentally prepare for the day ahead, trying not to show your exhausted emotions, mentally and physically. When the doors slide open, you step into the expansive hallway lined with art. At the end of the corridor, you enter the grand office door. You walk to the enormous desk adorned with a gold plaque that reads “CEO Kim Hongjoong” and set down the iced Americano you picked up on your way in. You reach into your tote bag and retrieve a neatly organized file folder. Flipping it open, you scan through today’s itinerary, noting the key meetings and tasks that lie ahead. Once satisfied with your briefing, you close the folder and return it to your bag. You head to the front desk positioned just outside the CEO's office, and begin your morning tasks. Every day in the office has settled into a rhythm, a familiar routine that feels almost automatic.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” “Hello, Mr. Kim!” The greetings echo as your colleagues bow slightly, their respect palpable.
You rise from your chair, straightening your blouse, and offer a nonchalant nod, masking the exhaustion lingering just beneath the surface.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you say as you bow, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Hongjoong approaches, his expression warm yet focused.
“Hello, Y/N. Have you prepared everything for today’s schedule?” he asks, moving past you toward his office.
“Yes, you have a meeting in an hour with a client…” you begin to relay the itinerary, following him inside. He settles into his chair, taking a sip of the Americano and nods in response.
“Also, I dealt with the complaints from the last exhibition. Everything’s been taken care of, just like you wanted,” you add, your tone casual, though the weight of your own issues tugs at your thoughts. Hongjoong looks up, a smile breaking across his face.
“That’s why I have you as my secretary, Miss Y/N. Thank you so much.”
You nod, the compliment momentarily brightening your mood, but it’s fleeting. You bow again before slipping out of the office. As the door closes behind you, you take a deep breath, pushing the worries from your relationship to the back of your mind, ready to tackle the day ahead with practiced indifference.
Throughout the morning, you flit in and out of meetings, accompanying Hongjoong as he navigates a flurry of tasks. The office is a hive of activity, and you move seamlessly between conversations, taking notes and organizing files, but the weight of your personal life hangs heavy in the back of your mind.
You glance at the clock on your desk: just thirty minutes until your hour break. A sigh escapes your lips, and you reach for your phone, hesitating. Siwoo’s message sits unread, a lingering question mark in your thoughts. You know you should respond, but the uncertainty of his invitation makes you hesitate. Is it pettiness that keeps you from reaching out, or a defense mechanism to shield your heart from further pain? You shake off the intrusive thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand.
*Ding.* Your phone buzzes, drawing your attention. It’s another message from Siwoo.
Siwoo <3: I won’t be able to make it today. Something came up at work. Sorry.
You scoff under your breath, a bitter taste filling your mouth. His absence stings, but you’ve braced yourself for this—after all, it’s become a pattern.
Just then, Hongjoong’s voice crackles through the telephone intercom on your desk, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. “Miss Y/N, please come to my office.”
“Yes, sir,” you reply, rising from your seat with a practiced smile as you make your way into his office.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?” you ask, your tone polite, carefully masking the frustration beneath the surface from Siwoo’s message.
Hongjoong leans back in his chair, his expression serious.
“I know you have your hour break in twenty minutes, but I just got off the phone with a potential client. They want to meet over lunch in a few minutes, and I need you to tag along to take notes. If you can wait on your break for another hour, I’ll cover your meal if you accompany me now.”
His words feel more like an instruction than a request, and you nod in response, pushing your personal frustrations aside.
“Of course, sir. Shall I call the chauffeur now?”
“No need,” he replies, grabbing his briefcase. “We’ll take my vehicle. I’ll drive.”
You nod and follow Hongjoong out of the building.
You settled into the passenger seat next to Hongjoong, the sleek interior of the car enveloping you. The rhythmic clicking of the turn signal punctuated the silence, while the soft murmur of the news on the radio served as a gentle backdrop.
“Miss Y/N, is everything alright?” Hongjoong's voice cut through the quiet, steady and attentive. You turned to him, slightly taken aback by his directness.
“Y-Yes, sir. What makes you concerned?” you replied, a hint of surprise coloring your voice. His eyes remained fixed on the road, focused yet perceptive.
“My top employee—my secretary—has been unusually quiet lately. You seem a bit off,” he remarked, expertly navigating the car into a parking lot. His concern was genuine, and you felt a flutter of warmth at his attention.
“I apologize if I gave that impression today, sir. I assure you, I’m alright,” you replied, straightening in your seat, trying to project confidence. Hongjoong parked the car and turned to face you, his expression serious.
“Y/N, I’m not just talking about today. You’ve been like this for a few days now. I don’t want to pry, but if something is bothering you, please let me know. You never slack off—well, not that I’ve noticed—but you’re a vital part of our team. If you’re not at your best, it affects us all, especially me. Let’s tackle any issues together, professionally.” His words carried a weight of understanding that took you by surprise.
You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal.
“I… I apologize, sir. It’s just some personal issues in my relationship. I promise I won’t let it interfere with my work,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. You feared that honesty might blur the lines of your professional relationship.
Hongjoong regarded you with a thoughtful expression, his brow slightly furrowing. “Problems in your relationship?” he asked gently. You nodded, keeping your head bowed.
“Yes. I appreciate you asking,” you replied, feeling a rush of gratitude mixed with apprehension.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, his tone shifting back to his usual professional demeanor. “Let’s get to work.”
The next hour unfolded at a high-end restaurant, its luxurious ambiance creating the perfect setting for a business meeting. You sat next to Hongjoong, across from two potential clients, the atmosphere charged with opportunity. As they discussed plans for an upcoming exhibition, you diligently took notes, your mind sharpening as you transitioned into your role.
Hongjoong exuded charisma, ordering champagne and an array of exquisite appetizers while skillfully guiding the conversation. You admired the way he balanced authority with approachability, creating an atmosphere of collaboration.
———
As promised, Hongjoong granted you your hour break once you both returned to the office. The day had been packed with meetings and conversations, but you had already eaten at the restaurant, so instead of lingering in the bustling atmosphere of the office, you decided to find solace on the rooftop.
Ascending to the rooftop, you pushed open the heavy door, the cool air hitting your face like a refreshing wave. You walked over to one of the bistro tables, the metal surface gleaming under the midday sun. You sank into one of the chairs, letting out a deep sigh that released the pent-up stress from the morning. In your left hand, you cradled an iced Americano to keep you alert. In your right, you held your phone, its screen illuminating your face as you contemplated the text messages from Siwoo.
He should be off work by now, you thought, scrolling through the thread of messages. You hesitated, biting your lip, unsure of how to approach him. The uncertainty had lingered in your mind for days, and it felt like a weight on your chest. After a moment’s deliberation, you resolved to take initiative and give him a call.
You tapped his name, and set the phone on speaker. As the phone rang, the sound echoed in the serene space around you. It rang for what felt like an eternity until finally, you heard his voice on the other end, slightly breathless.
“H-hello? Y/N?” Siwoo stuttered, his tone hesitant.
“Siwoo, what are you doing?” you asked, trying to sound calm, though your heart raced with anticipation.
“Mmm, n-nothing much, just working out. I-I went to the gym after work,” he replied, punctuating his words with a grunt that surprised you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Since when did he ever work out?
You decided to push forward, hoping to reconnect. “Do you want to come over tonight? I’ll make dinner,” you offered, softening your voice as if trying to coax him back into your world.
“A-ahh, probably not tonight. I have to finish some work at h-home,” he stuttered again, his voice strained, as though he were struggling for breath.
Disappointment settled in your stomach, but you pressed on. “I can come over then, yeah? I’ll make you your favorite dish?” You mentally kicked yourself for even suggesting it, a flicker of doubt reminding you of all the times he had flaked out before.
“N-no, Y/N. I-It’s okay. A-ahh!” Siwoo grunted loudly, and a chill ran through you at the sound.
“Siwoo, what’s going on?!” You raised your voice slightly, urgency creeping in.
“I told you, Y/N. I’m working out. We can’t see each other tonight; I’m busy. I have to go,” he snapped, the finality in his tone cutting through the air like a knife. The line went dead, leaving you with only the echo of his voice. Your heart sank, a familiar ache running within you.
You stared at the phone in disbelief, the cool metal suddenly feeling heavy in your hand. How could he do this again? A mix of frustration and sadness swirled in your chest, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it did little to quell the rising tide of emotions.
——
You glance at the small digits on your screen, the glowing numbers reading 8:00 PM. Your shift officially ended thirty minutes ago, but here you sat, a blend of dedication and denial keeping you tethered to your desk. Guilt washed over you, a stark reminder of Hongjoong’s earlier words. There was no point in heading home, not when the weight of unfinished tasks bore down on you. The quiet of your apartment would only invite sorrow, while the office, though nearly deserted, offered a comforting distraction.
The atmosphere had shifted; the energy of the day had given way to silence as colleagues trickled out, exchanging soft goodbyes. Each farewell came with a gentle reminder not to work too hard, and you managed a smile, masking the turmoil brewing inside you. Once they departed, you returned your focus to the glowing screen, rifling through files and diligently noting necessary information, your fingers a blur over the keyboard.
A flicker of light caught your eye—a warm streaming light from Hongjoong’s office. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity; you’d assumed he had left an hour ago. Shaking off the thoughts that threatened to wander, you turned back to your work.
“Y/N?” Hongjoong’s voice broke through your concentration. You looked up at him through your rectangular glasses that rested on your face. He cut an impressive figure, dressed in a fitted black dress shirt and a black vest that accentuated his shoulders.(What the fuck Y/N; he’s your boss.) You mentally scolded yourself, attempting to dismiss any inappropriate thoughts.
“O-Oh, yes sir?” you replied, setting your pen down on the desk.
“Your shift ended an hour ago. Why are you still here?” His brow arched in genuine curiosity, his tone both commanding and concerned.
“I’m just catching up on some work, sir. I apologize. I’ll be heading home soon,” you replied, striving for composure even as nerves danced in your stomach.
“Y/N, come to my office,” he said, his calm demeanor masking the authority in his request. You hesitated, uncertainty creeping in. Why did he want to speak in private, especially when the office was nearly empty?
Despite your reservations, you take off your glasses frames, place them on your desk and follow him into his office. The door clicking shut behind you, a sound that felt like a declaration. The dim light cast long shadows, enveloping the room. He sits at the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.
“What’s going on in your relationship?” Hongjoong asked, his tone direct yet oddly informal. The question hung in the air, leaving you momentarily stunned. Your eyes widened, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck.
“Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about personal matters at work…” you managed to reply, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you avoided his gaze.
“It’s after work hours, Y/N. You can speak comfortably,” he said, his voice calm and soothing, yet imbued with a sharpness that conveyed he was not one to be easily dismissed. “I can tell something is wrong.”
You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to formulate a response. A swirl of emotions crashed over you—fear of crossing professional boundaries mixed with the realization that perhaps he genuinely wanted to connect with you on a deeper level. Colleagues had often joked about how you and Hongjoong were like a married couple at work, a notion you had always brushed aside. The title felt cliché, almost childish, and you had preferred to maintain a strictly professional atmosphere.
But as you looked at him, a flicker of understanding passed between you. Maybe he wasn’t just playing the role of the CEO tonight. Perhaps he truly wanted to understand what you were going through. You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you considered opening up.
“We have… just been distant lately,” you say hesitantly, the words slipping out with reluctance. “Our schedules don’t seem to be aligning, and our communication is off. That is all, sir.” You glance at him, searching for a response.
He hums thoughtfully, nodding in acknowledgment. “Shall I… cut your hours? Maybe find a second secretary to fill in while you get to spend more time with your significant other?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.
“N-no, sir!” The words escaped your lips almost too hastily, an instinctive reaction that made you feel slightly embarrassed. Hongjoong chuckled, his head lowering momentarily before he lifted it again, locking eyes with you.
“So, is it his schedule that’s not cooperating with yours?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded in silence, the weight of your emotions pressing down as you considered the truth behind your answer.
“Mm… interesting.” Hongjoong tapped his chin thoughtfully, the wheels of his mind clearly turning. Curiosity prickled at you; what was going through his head? You couldn’t help but wonder about the direction this conversation was taking.
“Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what does your partner do for a living?” he asked, his tone calm and inviting.
“He’s a professor at the university located downtown,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.
“A professor?” Hongjoong mused, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone. “I doubt their schedules are that busy compared to yours—a full-time secretary for a well-known company.” He dropped his hands into his pockets, his gaze intent and probing.
“Are you sure you should be concerned about his schedule? Maybe… it’s something more?” Hongjoong added nonchalantly, his casual demeanor contrasting sharply with the seriousness of his implication.
You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. What was he suggesting? Your mind raced, trying to decipher his words. Was he implying that the distance in your relationship could be rooted in something deeper than just busy schedules? The thought unsettled you, but a part of you was intrigued by his concern. You hesitated, caught in a web of uncertainty as you considered how to respond.
“I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir…” you murmured, your gaze dropping to your black heels, the polished tips reflecting the dim light of the office.
“Come here, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice a blend of softness and authority that sent a shiver down your spine. Almost instinctively, you found your feet moving toward him, the rhythmic click of your pumps echoing softly against the floor as you approached. You stopped just in front of his black loafers, your heart racing in your chest.
“Closer,” he instructed, his voice lowering, deepening with an intensity that made you catch your breath. You stepped forward, positioning yourself between his slightly parted legs, the air thick with unspoken tension.
His hand reached out, a gentle yet firm grasp settling on your waist. You gasped in shock, the unexpected warmth of his touch flooding through you. This is wrong, you thought, panic stirring within, but something deeper held you in place, a pull that made it difficult to consider pulling away. Instead, you stood there, caught in a moment that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Maybe…” Hongjoong began, his thumb rubbing softly against the fabric of your blouse, the gentle motion both soothing and unsettling.
“your partner is being unfaithful…?” The words hung heavy in the air, a sentence that felt like a blade slicing through your gut.
A part of you recoiled at the thought, refusing to believe it. Yet, as you stood there, something nagged at you, a whisper of doubt that you couldn’t shake. The realization that he might be right crept in like a shadow, darkening your thoughts. Stupidly, your heart leaped to defend Siwoo, the man you cared for, even as uncertainty gnawed at you.
“Mr. Kim, I don’t appreciate you assuming that,” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared between the gap of Hongjoong’s legs that revealed the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.
“You don’t know our relationship, so please do not accuse him of such acts…” you added, your tone a fragile mixture of firmness and vulnerability. As the words left your lips, you felt your eyes begin to well with tears, confusion and anger swirling within you. You trusted Siwoo; you had to. But the doubts Hongjoong had planted took root, and you didn’t understand why he was suddenly acting like this.
You wanted to leave, to escape the charged atmosphere and the unsettling intimacy of the moment, but your feet remained stuck to the floor. Deep down, beneath the rising tide of panic, you recognized that you craved the odd comfort Hongjoong provided, a warmth that felt so different from the turmoil in your heart.
Suddenly, a whimper escaped your lips, a sound that surprised you as tears began to cascade down your cheeks, dropping onto Hongjoong’s lap.
“Oh, baby…” Hongjoong cooed, his voice laced with a tenderness. You gasped at the sudden pet name. With a gentle yet deliberate movement, his unoccupied hand reached toward your face, lifting your chin slightly so that he could wipe away the tears that streamed relentlessly down. Your eyes however, still refusing to look at him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your heart raced at the intimacy of the moment.
“You defend him, yet you’re crying,” he observed, his voice low and soothing, but his words only added to the turmoil within you. It was as if he could see right through the facade you had tried to maintain. As his hand, previously resting on your waist, moved to the other side of your face, you felt the weight of his palms cupping your cheeks, an act of reassurance that both calmed and stirred your emotions.
“Look at me, Y/N” Hongjoong softly demands. Your pretty eyes look at him. Sparkling from the tears that are still streaming down your face slowly. Hongjoong bit his lip, fighting to maintain his composure, though he couldn’t help but think how fucken pretty you look when you cried… how vulnerable.
“I’m sorry for assuming,” he continued, his tone tender yet firm. “It was unprofessional of me. I was just trying to express my concerns.” His fingers brushed against your skin as he gently cupped your face, his thumbs softly stroking away the remnants of your tears. “I don’t want to see you cry anymore, okay?”
Confusion swirled within you, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. What was Hongjoong doing? His touch sent conflicting signals through your mind, making it hard to decipher the intentions behind his kindness. You felt your heart race as he held your gaze, searching for answers that remained elusive.
“Let me take you home. It’s getting late.” He reluctantly withdrew his hands, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. Hongjoong lightly tapped your waist,
“Okay?” he asked again, his voice softening as he sought your approval. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you looked into his eyes, those doe-like orbs filled with an innocence that belied the complexities of your situation. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, each moment stretching out as you found solace in his presence, even amidst the confusion.
———
The car glided smoothly along the quiet streets, the only sounds breaking the stillness were the gentle notes floating from the radio and the rhythmic tapping of Hongjoong’s fingers on the steering wheel. Each beat resonated with the unspoken tension lingering between you, a subtle backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your mind.
As the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, you felt a mix of relief and reluctance. The evening air was cool against your skin as you unbuckled your seatbelt and gathered your bags, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders.
“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing your head slightly, unable to meet his gaze. It was a gesture of politeness, but it felt more like a shield, protecting you from the warmth of his soft smile that you could sense even without looking.
“No worries, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you Monday,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with an unshakeable confidence. You heard the warmth in his tone, even as you turned away and walked towards the entrance of your apartment building, his farewell echoing in your ears.
The elevator ride felt interminable as you ascended to your floor, each ding of the buttons amplifying the heaviness in your chest. Finally, you stepped into your small apartment, the familiar space offering little comfort. You dragged your feet toward your room, exhaustion pulling you down, both physically and emotionally.
Once inside, you kicked off your heels, the sharp clack against the floor a welcome relief. You stripped off your clothes with a mindless haste, leaving only your undergarments as you collapsed onto your bed. The cool sheets enveloped you, but they couldn’t ease the confusion swirling in your thoughts.
With a deep, resigned sigh, you sank into the mattress, your mind replaying fragments of your conversation with Hongjoong.
In a moment of desperation, you reached for your phone, dialing Siwoo’s number. The ringing felt like an eternity, and when it went to voicemail, a knot tightened in your stomach. You glanced at the clock—10 PM. Another attempt led to the same unyielding voicemail. Frustration filled within you, mixing with a pang of anxiety that settled in your chest.
You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The coolness of the room contrasted sharply with the heat of your thoughts. Slowly, memories of Hongjoong flooded your mind—his perfect figure leaning casually against the desk, his strong hand lingering on your arm, the gentle caress of his fingers against your face.
Your heart ached, not for Siwoo, but for Hongjoong. You suddenly craved his comforting and reassuring voice. His lingering touch on your skin. Your legs close together as you feel a wave of warmth between your thighs. Your hands moved down your soft skin, reaching towards your heat…
You gasp softly, shaking your head, trying to dismiss these feelings. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. Hongjoong is your Boss. And plus you have Siwoo. Your… loving boyfriend.
The weight of silence wraps around you like a thick fog, pressing down on your chest as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. You can’t shake the feeling that these spiraling thoughts. In frustration you convince yourself that you’re probably just deprived of touch from your significant other.
With sudden resolve, you push yourself up from the tangled sheets, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine, and head towards the bathroom. Turning on the water, you let your thoughts drown in the hot water. Making your way back to your room, you slowly dry off and change into pajamas.
As your head hits the pillow, a sense of calm envelops you, pulling you into a deep slumber. The world outside fades, and for the first time in ages, you allow yourself to drift away, hoping that tomorrow will bring a spark of connection back into your life.
———
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across your home office. You’re working from home today, since Hongjoong isn’t in office on the weekends. You sat your desk with a steaming cup of coffee cradled in your hands, you let the aroma fill your senses, the rich, dark liquid fueling your focus as your fingers typing across the keyboard.
The rhythmic sound of your typing created a serene atmosphere until it was interrupted by a sharp buzz from the apartment door.
Setting your coffee down, you pushed back your chair and stood, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread as you approached the door. Taking a deep breath, you swung it open, and your heart dropped. Standing there, looking both sheepish and regretful, was Siwoo, clutching a bouquet of flowers.
“Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry for flaking out on you so many times,” he said with a fake pout.
A year ago, you would have melted at this display. You might have accepted his half-assed apology with a smile, the flowers a token of his remorse. But today, your mind raced with reminders of all the times he had done this before. The constant stand-ups, the empty promises, the fleeting moments of connection overshadowed by disappointment.
Your heart ached, not with the sweet pang of love but with the heavy weight of frustration. You stood there, staring at him, emotions swirling within you like a storm. Hurt and upset battled against the tenderness that still lingered for him. You could feel the walls you had carefully built in the past months tightening around you, whispering that this was a cycle you were tired of repeating.
But your heart, foolishly hopeful, betrayed you. Before you could think it through, you found yourself reaching for the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh blooms. Then, without a second thought, you pulled him into a tight embrace. As his arms wrapped around you, the familiar warmth flooded back, and you felt your resolve waver.
In that moment, you wanted to believe that this time would be different. Yet beneath the surface, a deeper ache throbbed—a desperate question lingered in your mind: why do you keep doing this to me?
As the hours unfolded, Siwoo settled into a chair across from your desk, his laptop open and papers scattered around him. The familiar hum of shared work surrounded you, a scene that once brought you joy. He would glance up occasionally, flashing you a smile that was meant to soothe the tension in the air. Yet, despite the comforting proximity, your heart was locked in a battle against the memories of hurt he had inflicted upon you.
You tried to push those thoughts aside, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand. Still, they lingered like unwelcome shadows, flitting in and out of your consciousness. Each time Siwoo laughed at something on his screen or leaned back with a satisfied sigh, a part of you wanted to bask in the moment, to let yourself feel the happiness he once brought. But the other part—a weary, wiser part—reminded you of the countless times he had let you down.
Your mind already flooded with so many issues, decided to remind you of last night’s conversation with Hongjoong—the way he spoke to you, his touch… The longing for deeper connections hung heavily on your mind, teasing you with confusion.
You caught Siwoo watching you, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice breaking through your reverie.
You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, just thinking about work.”
———
Throughout the day, with Siwoo at your side, a disquieting realization settled in your chest: you felt less like his girlfriend and more like a maid. He moved to lounge in your living room, casually asking for snacks and drinks while you sat at your desk, trying to concentrate on your work. Each request chipped away at your patience, drawing a line between the intimate moments you once cherished and the mundane reality of this interaction.
Glancing over, you caught sight of him: relaxed, almost carefree, tapping away on his phone with a soft laugh escaping his lips. Maybe it was Hongjoong’s words playing tricks on you, but a knot twisted in your stomach as you watched Siwoo, feeling an unfamiliar ick wash over you. It felt as though he was taking advantage of your hospitality, oblivious to the growing frustration bubbling within you.
“Oh, Y/N, can I borrow some money?” Siwoo asked, his voice casual, his eyes glued to the screen as he continued to chuckle at whatever amused him.
“May I ask why?” You replied softly, a frown creasing your brow as confusion settled in.
“I need to buy new materials for work. It’s required for all professors, and I’m just short by a few bucks,” he explained, his gaze still firmly fixed on his phone.
You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Doesn’t the university cover materials for professors?”
“Mmm, not this time. Please?” he said, finally looking up at you, his irritating smile brightening his face as if he expected you to fold under the charm.
Taking a deep breath, you felt the tension in your chest tighten, but you nodded anyway, wiring him a sum that was likely more than he needed. Maybe it was an act of guilt or an old habit of wanting to keep the peace.
“Thanks, honey. You’re the best!” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. The grin on his face widened as he returned to his phone, engrossed once more in whatever had captured his attention.
“Y—you’re leaving so soon?” The words spilled out before you could stop them, a mix of desperation and disappointment. “I’m almost done with work. Let’s have dinner…”
He turned to you, his expression unchanged. “Maybe another day, Y/N. I have to head back to the campus.”
With that, he walked out without a backward glance, leaving you standing there, a swirl of emotions crashing against one another. As the door clicked shut, the weight of his absence pressed heavily on your heart, mingling with the irritation that had been building all day.
——
The weekend slipped away in a blur, its fleeting hours vanishing like sand through fingers. As you stepped into the office on Monday morning, you glanced around the workspace, filled with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint rustle of papers, and realized you wanted to be here. The thought of Hongjoong entered your mind unbidden. You couldn’t help but remember the conversations that had left you feeling confused but wanting more.
But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, chastising yourself. This wasn’t the time for daydreams. You were his secretary, bound by professional decorum. It was crucial to maintain composure, to focus on your tasks and responsibilities. After all, any semblance of personal feelings could only complicate matters.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing slightly from your desk as he entered his office, and you follow behind him. The air felt charged with unspoken tension, a remnant of the incident that had unfolded just days prior, a moment you both seemed to ignore.
“Good morning, Miss Y/N,” Hongjoong replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he settled into his chair behind the desk. His eyes flickered momentarily to the iced Americano you had picked up for him earlier, the cool condensation glistening against the glass.
“What is the schedule for today?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but you could sense the sharpness in his gaze as it remained fixed on you.
Clearing your throat, you began to relay the day’s itinerary, focusing intently on your notes. “We have the marketing meeting at ten, followed by the conference call with the investors at noon.” You spoke steadily, but your heart raced, memories of that night creeping back into your mind—a fleeting brush of his hands, the way his gaze had pierced through the façade of professionalism.
Hongjoong listened, nodding occasionally, but there was an air of distraction about him, too. He was acting as if nothing had happened, and you were determined to do the same, though it felt like walking a tightrope. You maintained your composure, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady and professional as you continued.
His expression remained neutral, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between you. You stole a glance at him, noting how the light caught the edges of his features, the way he effortlessly commanded the space around him.
“And finally,” you added, pushing the memories further down, “we have a team meeting at four to discuss the new project timeline.”
As you finished, a heavy silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the soft sound of his drink being set down on the desk. You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the unacknowledged moment hanging in the air. “Thank you, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice smooth as he rose from his chair. The brief moment of gratitude hung in the air between you, creating a small, intimate space in an otherwise professional atmosphere. You bowed slightly in acknowledgment, the familiar gesture a part of your daily routine, before you turned on your heels, ready to leave the room.
“Wait a moment,” he called out just as you reached the door. You paused, your heart skipping a beat, then turned back to face him.
“Yes, sir?” you replied, your voice steady but your mind racing.
“How are you doing?” he asked, the question casual yet layered with an unexpected warmth. The simplicity of it took you aback, a small flicker of surprise igniting within you.
“I—I’m well, sir. Thank you for asking.” You stumbled over your words slightly, an involuntary shyness creeping in. “How about you?” You returned the question out of politeness.
“That’s good to hear, Y/N,” he replied, his soft smile breaking through the formalities and lighting up the room. “I’m doing fine as well.”
You nodded, the warmth of his expression lingering in the air as you took in the moment. “I’ll get back to my work then,” you said, turning once more to leave.
As you stepped out of his office, the door closing softly behind you, you made your way back to your desk, the echo of his words and that fleeting smile still resonating within you.
——
Once you stepped out of Hongjoong’s office, he sank back into his chair, the weight of the world settling on his shoulders as his thoughts turned inward, swirling around you. He couldn’t deny the fondness he felt. From the moment you had started working as his secretary, you had made it clear that you were in a serious relationship. He respected your loyalty, admired it even, but it didn’t erase the growing complexity of his own feelings for you.
As he gazed out the window, memories flooded back, particularly the recent lunch meeting on Friday. You had accompanied him at the last minute, and during the drive, when you admitted to him about your relationship struggles. The admission struck him deeply—he felt a flicker of triumph at your honesty, a selfish part of him celebrating. Yet, mingled with that spark was a simmering anger; the man you were with was clearly causing you distress.
After returning to the office, you took your promised hour break, and Hongjoong found himself drawn to the rooftop. He hadn’t intended to pry; he simply wanted to offer words of encouragement, to lift your spirits. But as he approached, he overheard your phone ring and the familiar cadence of your voice pick up the call. A sinking feeling took root in his stomach when he recognized the voice on the other end—Siwoo, your boyfriend.
He paused at the steel door, unable to resist the urge to listen. Siwoo’s breathless tone was unmistakable, the hurried speech revealing more than mere exertion from a workout. Hongjoong's heart raced as he deduced the truth— Any man would know, this was not the voice of a faithful partner. The realization struck him like a punch; this man had the audacity to take your call while clearly entangled in something inappropriate.
A rush of guilt washed over him as he retreated to his office, grappling with the anger that grew beneath the surface. How could someone hurt you, an innocent, kind, and beautiful person? He felt torn, wanting to protect you while recognizing the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.
In the hours that followed, a storm of thoughts brewed within him. It was reckless, perhaps, but the idea of bringing you into his office after hours began to take root. He wanted to voice his concerns casually. But when you began to softly cry, that’s when he felt the line blur. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your pretty doe-like eyes glistening with unshed tears— (fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking like that).
Hongjoong pulled back from his reminiscent thoughts, deciding it was best to let you navigate this situation on your own. Maybe you would uncover the truth about Siwoo, perhaps the pieces would fall into place. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, and as he sat in his office, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could contain his feelings, how much longer he could remain a silent observer to your heartache.
Fuck it? Hongjoong thought to himself. Siwoo deserves a taste of his own medicine.
Hongjoong scoffed to himself at his idea as he sipped on his coffee.
———
The workday unfolded in its usual rhythm, a blur of emails, calls, and the occasional paperwork that seemed to multiply by the hour. You navigated through the tasks with a practiced efficiency, though your mind occasionally drifted to the flurry of messages buzzing on your phone. Each notification from Siwoo felt like a weight pressing down on you, filled with meaningless apologies, and pleads to wire money for some other things, god knows what he needed it for.
With a deep breath, you made the decision to ignore his messages for now. You turned your focus back to your work, fingers typing over the keyboard, pouring your energy into the tasks at hand.
As you typed, the sound of footsteps drew your attention. You looked up to find Hongjoong standing before your desk, his presence commanding yet familiar. He had a way of drawing you in, and for a moment, the chaos of your personal life faded into the background.
“Miss Y/N, please come to my office after work hours,” he said, his tone smooth yet imbued with a seriousness that piqued your curiosity. He turned and strode into his office, leaving you with a flurry of thoughts.
“Yes, sir,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him go.
With a sigh, you returned to your work, the clock ticking steadily toward the end of the day. Each keystroke felt heavier as the minutes dragged on, and the anticipation of your meeting with Hongjoong lingered like a sweet ache in your heart.
———
As the final colleagues trickled out of the building, the quiet hum of the office began to settle into an echo of solitude. You sighed as you recalled Hongjoong’s instructions. Straightening your buttoned blouse and smoothing down your skirt, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in his office.
You knocked softly, the sound barely breaking the silence.
“Come in,” Hongjoong’s voice resonated through the door. You opened it slowly and stepped inside, closing it behind you with a soft click.
Hongjoong was seated at his desk, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms accentuated by a dark tie. The sight of him brought a swirl of emotions; he exuded an effortless charisma that both intimidated and drew you in.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor, an attempt to hide the mix of anxiety and curiosity swelling inside you.
“Yes, please come here, Y/N,” he replied, his voice calm and low. As you approached him, the familiar sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor echoed in your mind, reminding you of the similar situation a few days ago in this very spot.
“Please, sit,” he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, positioning yourself at the edge, an instinctive reaction born from uncertainty.
Hongjoong rose from his chair and began to circle around the desk, a pen spinning effortlessly between his slender fingers. The movement was fluid, almost hypnotic, and it pulled your attention as you tried to read his expression.
“Miss Y/N,” he began, pausing for a moment, “you’re one of my smartest employees, correct?” His gaze remained focused elsewhere, a slight distance in his eyes.
“Th—thank you, sir. I—” you started, but his voice cut through your response.
“A person with an important job like yours requires a lot of skill, attentiveness… and have the ability assess the environment around the office, Correct?”
“Yes… that is correct, sir,” you replied quietly, maintaining eye contact,
“Would you agree that you have been lacking some of these skills, Y/N?” Hongjoong stopped infront of you, sitting at the edge of his desk. His arms crossed over his chest, revealing the strong veins that ran along his forearms, an unconscious display of his physicality that made your heart race.
“I—I haven’t noticed, sir. I apologize if I haven’t been performing well…” The words tumbled out, anxiety creeping in. Were you about to get fired? The thought sent a chill through you, and you mentally recoiled at the prospect of your life spiraling further down.
“I’m not going to fire you, Y/N,” he said, and your eyes widened in surprise; it was as if he had plucked the thought straight from your mind.
“I’m not really following this conversation, sir…” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you began to fidget with your fingers in your lap, seeking any distraction from the mounting tension.
Hongjoong released a frustrated sigh, and suddenly he pushed himself off the edge of the desk, stepping toward you slowly. His strong arms landed on the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you in place. He leaned in closer, the proximity forcing you to lean back into the seat, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden intimacy of the moment.
The air between you thickened. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the sharpness of his gaze holding you captive.
He scoffed, the corner of his lip turning into a smirk as he looked down. His eyes landed on the unbuttoned opening of your shirt. He sees your chest breathing up and down in anticipation. He looks up, gazes at your lips quickly before looking into your eyes.
“For someone so pretty and smart, you’re quite naive” He chuckles. A rush of heat seeps into your cheeks. You’re at a loss for words. You don’t know how to respond, so you opt to stay silent.
“Miss Y/N” Hongjoong says sternly in a soft voice.
“Yes, Sir?” You quietly reply back.
“Can you assess the environment in this office right now?” His voice is a whisper.
“U—Uhm…” you stutter, not knowing what to say. Hongjoong chuckles at your flustered expression.
“Let me give you a hint, Y/N” Hongjoong whispers and leans in closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm wave. Then, in a moment that felt both thrilling and terrifying, his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes widened in shock. This is wrong, a voice in your mind screamed. You shouldn’t be doing this. But as much as you tried to summon the strength to pull away, your body betrayed you.
His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly gentle as they molded against yours, igniting a fire that swept through you. The worries around you faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in this unexpected moment. It felt as if time had stopped, your heartbeat loud in your ears, drowning out the rational thoughts that screamed for you to stop.
As he finally pulled away, the distance felt electric, charged with a lingering intimacy. His gaze searched yours, earnest and intense. “Do you understand now?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You nod slowly.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks softly as he looks at your plush lips. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. All you know is that you want whatever lingering feelings Hongjoong has bestowed on you. As much as you know it’s wrong, you can’t help but crave him.
In response to his question, You shake your head in protest. His thumb caresses your chin tilting your head to look up at him.
“Use your words baby.” Hongjoong’s voice is low as he stares into your eyes, searching for an answer.
“Please… don’t stop sir.” You say quietly. Hongjoong smirks and pulls way from you. You look at him confused. His position is sat back onto the edge of his desk.
“Show me you want it too Y/N” He’s teasing you. Wanting to see how far you’re willing to go. Knowing that deep inside, as much as you want this you still feel a tiny ounce of guilt from being unfaithful to your partner. Regardless, You rise from the chair and make your way to Hongjoong. You position yourself between his legs that are slightly spread and place both your arms on his shoulders. You lean forward and kiss him. Hongjoong returns the kiss almost immediately. He can feel himself already growing hard as his lips move against yours. His hands are securely gripped onto your waist bringing you closer to him. He deepens the kiss and swipes his tongue over the bottom of your lip. In response your mouth opens as you release a whimper. Both of your tongues now move together skillfully, resulting in a moan from both of you. As the heated make-out session continues, you notice Hongjoong’s arm pushing away some papers and other items on the desk behind him.
Smoothly, Hongjoong moves your position, his strong arms swiftly carry your body onto the desk. You are now sat on top of the cold wood, arms wrapped around his neck, as he continued to devour your lips. You slightly pull back in attempt to catch your breath. You’re a panting mess, and so is he. Hongjoong however doesn’t want to stop. He pecks your lips, before leaving a trail kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your soft cheek, and finally to your slender neck. Shivers were sent throughout your body as Hongjoong left soft warm kisses on your neck.
“A—ah Sir…” you whimpered quietly. Hongjoong hummed in response as he began to leave opened mouth kisses on your skin.
Hongjoong pushed your legs apart, your skirt already slightly hiked up from him placing you on the desk moments ago. Revealing your exposed thighs, Hongjoong’s hands moved from knees, and traveled up your soft plush thighs, causing you to close them in an instinct, but his strong arms prevent you, keeping them open.
His lips trails up to your ear nibbles on your lobe before whispering softly, “I want you to say my name okay?” You nod in response.
His hands moved dangerously closer to your heat that was radiating from your exposed thighs, but he stops, he was teasing you. His hands caressed your inner thighs, not daring to move closer as he continued to kiss your neck and face. His lips found his way back to yours and takes it in softly.
You whimper against his mouth and he slowly pulls away.
“What’s wrong baby?” His voice is so soft, sending another heat wave down your body.
“Please… touch me, sir” you say sheepishly.
“I told you Y/N, I want you to say my name.” Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs tighten, causing you to whimper in pain and pleasure.
“H—Hongjoong…” your soft, angelic voice echoed in his ears as his name rolled off your tongue.
“Yeah baby?” He tries to hold back a groan, already so turned on by you calling his name.
“Hongjoong, touch me… please?” You plead with your doe eyes staring at him. Hongjoong bites his lip as he looks at your pretty, desperate face.
“Fuck, Y/N… you make me do stupid shit” He curses under his breath before devouring your lips once again.
This time, his hands finally touch your warm clothed pussy. You moan at his touch. His fingers slowly rub against your clit, creating a friction against the fabric of your underwear. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck tighter. Moaning into his lips as he continues to rub you.
Unexpectedly, tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes. Not in pain, not in discomfort, but in a frustrating pleasure.
“Hong—j-joong, stop teasing please” You whimper as he slightly pulls away. He looks at your face, tears slowly falling down. He smirks, “Mm such a dirty brat, crying for me…” He degrades you in a low tone.
His hands find the hem of your underwear, and he skillfully pulls them down. They rest at the ankles of your legs, stopped by your heels that restricted them from falling to the floor. Hongjoong’s left arm cradles your back, as his right hand pushes up your skirt more to reveal your bare wet pussy.
“Fuck… so wet already just from me kissing you, and barely touching you?” He teases you, even though he too is already so rock hard in his slacks, from just kissing and touching you.
His hand makes his way to your clit. The soft bud of his middle and ring finger gently rubs circles, causing you to hold back a moan. Skillfully, his fingers dip down to your entrance, not fully going inside you, just enough to collect your wet fluids, and bring them back up to your clit. He rubs it again, slowly picking up the pace.
Your right hand drops behind you as it land on the desk, supporting your weight. You slightly throw your head back and cover your mouth with your unoccupied arm trying to hide your moans.
“Let me fucken hear you moan baby. No one is here. Just you and me” Hongjoong groans in your ear. His voice turned you on so much, resulting in a soft moan slipping from your lips.
Hongjoong’s fingers make their way to your entrance. Slipping in your tight folds. You gasp and grab onto his shoulder. He pumps his fingers slowly, as he studies your facial expressions. Your eyes are sparkling from the previous tears you shed. Your glossy lips slightly parted as you released soft moans.
“So fucken pretty” Hongjoong moans as he leans down to kiss your forehead. The gentle gesture, mixed with his lewd actions makes your stomach turn in a good way. He begins to pick up the pace. The office room is silent, with only the sounds of your mixed moans, pants, and the wetness of your folds fapping against Hongjoong’s hand.
Your mind begins to get fuzzy as you feel an orgasm near by. Hongjoong feels your pussy tighten around his digits, he chuckles before he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You whine in protest, frustration builds up in you, you were so close. Your arm around his neck tugs him closer, reaching for his lips, wanting to feel some sort of physical contact. But he pulls away from you. Completely. He steps back and looks at your figure.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, an unsettling knot tightening in your stomach. Why did he stop? Just moments ago, the air had felt charged with lust, and now it hung heavy with an unspoken tension. A flood of negative thoughts surged through your mind, drowning out any remnants of clarity. Embarrassment crept in, a heat rising to your cheeks, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Guilt wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, its weight almost suffocating. You could feel the sting of tears pooling in your eyes, the familiar ache of despair threatening to spill over. In a swift, instinctive motion, you cast your gaze downward, as if to shield yourself from the world around you. Your heart raced as quiet whimpers escaped your lips.
Hongjoong watches you as you softly cry. He tries not to loose his composure. The cute look of confusion on your face makes him feral.
“Aww baby… why are you crying hm?” Hongjoong’s voice is raspy. He tilts his head, trying to get a good look at your flushed face. You can’t find yourself to respond, only sniffles and soft whimpers can be heard.
“You know… to be completely honest Y/N…” the sound of Hongjoong’s belt unbuckling fills the air. You glance at him with your doe eyes.
“When I told you… I don’t want to see you cry anymore…” He slings his belt off his pants and drops it to the floor. His hands moving towards the button of his slacks. He shifts towards your body, and leans close to your face.
“I actually meant… I don’t want to see you cry for anyone else but me.” Your eyes widen at his statement. He chuckles at your expression and grabs your hands. He brings them towards his hard mound covered by the soft fabric of his pants.
“You look so fucken pretty when you cry. It turns me on so much. Knowing that you feel so good, you can’t help but shed a few tears” He moans as you begin to instinctively rub your hands on his huge hard on.
“Help me out baby. Be a good girl” Hongjoong whispers to you, and you nod. He smiles at your response. You make your way off the desk, and position yourself on your knees. You slowly unzip Hongjoong’s pants and pull them down along with his trousers. His hard, long cock springs out and softly hits your face. You gasp at the sudden sight. Earning a chuckle from him.
“Open your mouth.” He demands softly. Your lips part, tongue slightly sticking out, as you take Hongjoong’s length in. He releases a loud groan. Cursing under his breath as you begin to slowly bob your head up and down. You twirl your tongue a few times over his tip, causing him to tightly grip onto your soft hair.
“F—Fuck baby…” Hongjoong throws his head back.
“… damn, your boyfriend is this lucky and can’t even fucken appreciate you” You freeze at the sudden statement, and Hongjoong smirks as he scoffs. In response, he begins to thrust into your mouth slowly. You moan on his cock as he begins to shove himself deeper into your mouth. You tap Hongjoong’s leg, and he pulls you off him instantly. You gasp for air, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to his cock, as you begin to cough. Hongjoong chuckles, caressing your hair.
“Stand up” He demands. And in an instant you’re on your feet. Hongjoong swiftly lifts you up and places you back onto the desk. His hands are hastily unbuttoning your blouse as he kisses your lips. You moan, furrowing your brows, still thinking about the humiliating statement Hongjoong said. Something about his touch is so intoxicating, making you want more. Making you not care about anything in your reality.
As Hongjoong releases the last button on your blouse, he quickly pushes your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra filled by your perfect plush breasts. His hands grace over your chest, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses the exposed skin of your breast. His hands moving towards the straps, as he pulls them off. He reaches behind you and skillfully releases the clasps of your bra. The black lace drops swiftly revealing your perfect boobs.
“So fucken perfect for me baby.” Hongjoong whispers as he gropes them with his hands. You moan at his touch. He takes one in his mouth and laps at your nipples, resulting in you throwing your head back in pleasure.
“H—Hongjoong” you moan his name, he hums in response, still working on your breasts.
“Want.. m—more” you stutter under his touch.
He pulls away from you and pants, trying to calm himself down.
“Want more what?” He cocks an eyebrow at you. You pout, too embarrassed to verbally say what you want from him.
“Tell me now, or I’ll leave you here” Hongjoong threatens as he begins to pump himself, already knowing what you want. But he still wants to hear the words from your mouth.
“I want… you inside me… please?” You whimper in embarrassment. You look at him and you see a spark of excitement in his eyes as he smirks at you.
“Atta girl. Wasn’t so hard to say right?” He teases you as he brings himself closer to your pussy. Your breath increases as he places his tip right at the entrance. He only inserts his head before pulling out, repeating the gesture a few times. You whine as a tear falls from your eyes.
“Quit being a fucken brat” Hongjoong hisses at you bringing a gentle hand to your face as he wipes the tear away. Finally, He pushes his whole length inside you, earning a loud yelp from you. His cock instantly hits your sensitive spot and you cling onto his arms. He pauses inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. You’re definitely not used to his large length and thick girth, he’s stretching you out so good.
“Damn baby, you’re so tight? Your boyfriend isn’t big enough huh?” Hongjoong snickers at you. You whine at the sudden mention of your boyfriend again. It’s like he wants to remind you of him on purpose. To humiliate you. Hongjoong begins a slow pace inside you. Grunting as he moves against you.
“Answer me…” he demands, his hand cups your chin to force your gaze on him.
“H—he isn’t big enough. Y—you’re bigger Hongjoong…” You moan as he thrusts deeper.
“You… make me feel s—so good” You close your eyes as you take in the pleasure running through your body. Hongjoong manically smiles. Ecstatic at your response.
“Yeah?” He teases. Picking up his pace. The sound of your sweet moans heighten, the wet sounds of you two slapping against each other fill the room along with Hongjoong’s dirty words.
“Bet you, he doesn’t fuck you this good huh? Look at you. A fucken mess on my cock.”
“N-no! He doesn’t.” You whine, another wave of tears begin to fall from your eyes. The overstimulation of Hongjoong pumping into you along with his degrading words overwhelms you. You don’t want to admit it, but you fucken love this. Your body is enjoying every fucken moment of this dirty, lewd affair.
“F-Fuucckk” Hongjoong moans loudly. “Look at me while you cry, baby. Let me see that pretty face” you listen to him without hesitation. Your eyes locking with his. You feel yourself closer to reaching your high. Until you’re both interrupted with a sudden ringing.
You both turn your heads to the chair you sat on when you first entered Hongjoong’s office. The sight of your bright phone screen illuminates the dim room.
*Siwoo <3 is Calling*
Your heart drops at the name. Anxiety suddenly filling your body, replacing the pleasure you felt before. Hongjoong notices and smirks at you. He reaches over and grabs your phone.
“Answer it.” He demands. You shake your head no.
“I said fucken answer it. Your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don’t be a fucken brat now. Do you want me to stop?” Hongjoong’s words are harsh. You instantly shake your head in protest of him stopping.
“Then fucken answer it” Hongjoong shoves the phone towards you.
You hesitate as you grab the phone from his hands and click the green button. You bring the phone to your ear, but Hongjoong pulls your wrist, and clicks on the speaker button. He cocks his head at you, signaling you to continue,
“H-Hello? Siwoo?” You begin. Hongjoong resumes his pace. Fucking you in and out.
“Hey Honey. What are you doing?” Siwoo’s voice is calm, in contrast to what you’re feeling right now.
“A-Ah.. I’m j-just finishing up some w-work” You stutter as you try to keep your composure. Hongjoong makes it harder for you as he begins to lick your neck.
“You’re still at work?” Siwoo questions.
“M—mm, Yeah. Don’t worry. I—I’ll be home soon” You bite your lip trying to contain a moan.
“You okay Y/N? why do you keep stuttering?” Siwoo’s voices a concern.
“I—i’m okay. I-I just don’t feel too well. I think it’s a stomach tic” You bluff, trying to find an excuse.
“You don’t feel well? Shall I come pick you up from work-?” Siwoo suggests
“No!” You cut him off. You curse to yourself. Hongjoong smiles against a your neck and softly bites it as he continues fucking you senseless.
“Oh- okay then. Just be careful. take some medicine” You roll your eyes. (why the fuck does Siwoo decide to be sweet right now out of all days?) You mentally say to yourself.
“Y-yes I will…” You reply softly.
“Anyways, did you see my text? can you wire me some money?” Siwoo asks nonchalantly. You scoff, earning a vocalized chuckle from Hongjoong. Your eyes widen as you pull him closer to your neck, trying to muffle his laughter. You bite your lip, in hopes Siwoo didn’t hear anything.
“S—sorry, Siwoo. I don’t get paid till this Friday.” you manage to get out.
“Aww please? just a few bucks” Siwoo whines. In annoyance, you roll your eyes once again.
“Siwoo, I—I can’t. I have to go” You quickly hang up the call and throw your phone down. Hongjoong detaches from your neck and chuckles before attacking your lips. His pace begins to pick up. He holds onto your waist for support and you hold him closer. Hongjoong pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours.
“Does he take care of you? or do you take care of him?” He teases as he tries to hold back a laugh.
“S—Shut up” You moan in response. Hongjoong thrusts hard into you, earning a loud yelp from you.
“Someone’s suddenly mouthy?” Hongjoong’s hand grips onto your chin as he lightly taps your cheek.
“F—Fuck” You moan as he shoves himself inside you, with long and deep strokes.
Hongjoong then suddenly pulls out of you. Not wanting to waste any time, he lifts you off the desk and flips you over. Your front is pushed onto the cold wood, and he pulls your hips higher. Your forearms hoist yourself for support as you feel Hongjoong enter you once again. His hands grip under your skirt pushing them up towards your waist, giving him a perfect view of your ass. He mentally curses to himself as he watches your butt bounce on his cock at a constant pace. He brings his hand down to caress it before raising it and bringing it back down in a hard, but pleasurable slap. You yelp in response, eyes widen at the sudden contact.
“Such a fucken naughty girl. Fucking your boss, when you have a boyfriend” Hongjoong degrades you as his hand makes contact with your ass again. You whimper at the stinging sensation. Your tears fall onto the papers infront of you.
“Who fucks you better baby?” Hongjoong pants as his speed increases. “Me or Siwoo? Hm?” He asks again taking you in deeper.
“A—Ahhhh~ You, Hongjoong.” You sniffle your tears , “Hongjoong fucks me better!” You scream as his pace becomes sloppy. Hongjoong hears your crying whimpers and quickly turns you around to face him. Your body now lays flat on his desk as he pumps into you.
“Yeah? bet I can be better lover than him too” Hongjoong confesses as he smashes his lips onto yours. Your heart clenches at his statement. A sudden wave of orgasm hits you. Your pussy tightens around him as you come undone. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you release a loud moan. Your face buried in his chest, as he continues to fuck you and chase his high. Hongjoong’s thrust become sloppy, and quickly pulls out of you.
“Let me cum on your pretty face” He hastily demands. You quickly move towards his lower body and he pumps himself quickly on you. Hongjoong looks at your sparkly doe eyes, and bites his lips. His warm thick load releases into your face, along with a loud grunt from his mouth. You gasp as the feeling of the strings of cum landing on your soft skin. Your mouth instinctively opens,
“F—Fuckkk baby” Hongjoong hisses as he continues to pump more of his load onto your tongue.
The office room is filled with the sounds of you and Hongjoong panting, trying to catch your breath. The room reeks of sex. Your eyes are still locked on his. His white cum painted on your face and mouth. Without any other choice, you close your mouth and swallow his bittersweet cum.
“Fuck” Hongjoong whispers under his breath. He caresses your hair and reaches over his desk to grab a few tissue papers. Hongjoong wipes your face gently and kisses your forehead.
"Let me clean you up down there,"
Hongjoong whispered, his voice a soft, intimate murmur that seemed to linger in
the air between you. The earlier intensity of steamy sex had left a palpable tension, but now, a gentle calm enveloped the room. His eyes, once aflame with desire, were now filled with a warmth that reassured you, reminding you of the caring side he often showed.
After the whirlwind of passion, Hongjoong's demeanor had transformed completely. The fire that had ignited between you both settled into a tender glow as he moved closer, his presence both comforting and protective. With a steady hand, he reached for another tissue, his fingers brushing your skin lightly as he began to clean you up. The touch was careful and deliberate, as if he were trying to convey his affection through each gentle motion.
You felt a mix of vulnerability and warmth wash over you, grateful for the way he approached this moment. It was as though he understood the importance of transitioning from the intensity of physical connection to something more nurturing and intimate. You appreciated how he took his time, ensuring that you felt cared for, both emotionally and physically. As you two began to help each other back into your clothing, you couldn’t ignore the lingering feelings.
“I’ll take you home” Hongjoong smiles gently at you and brushes a strand of your hair out of your face. You nod and follow behind him out of his office. As he approached your desk, Hongjoong gathered your bags. You instinctively reached out to grab them, but he gently shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Let me handle this,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. With that, he took the lead, guiding you toward his car.
As you followed behind, your legs felt wobbly, you could sense him glancing back occasionally, ensuring you were still keeping up.
At the car, he paused, opening the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in. You slid into the seat. He placed your bags in the back with care, then turned to you, his demeanor softening as he reached for his spare coat. With a fluid motion, he draped it over your shoulders, its warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug.
“Hongjoong—” you started, the silence stretching between you, but he raised a hand to quiet you.
“Shh, it’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to say anything. Just rest,” he said gently. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
The drive home was silent. The hum of the engine a lullaby in the stillness of the night. You fought to keep your eyes open, fatigue clawing at you, but each passing moment, tried to invite you to surrender to the drowsiness. Suddenly, the car came to a stop, signaling at you from your drowsy haze. You turned to look at Hongjoong, who was already gazing at you.
“Y/N…” Hongjoong’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight. “I meant what I said when I told you I can be a better lover than Siwoo.” The sincerity in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “He doesn’t treat you well. You deserve someone who truly values you.” His eyes held a raw intensity as he continued, “I don’t think I can go on without you knowing that I’ve always wanted you for myself.”
His sudden confession took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily speechless. The air around you felt charged, and you could hardly process the emotions swirling within you.
“Let me prove to you that I will love you better. Please, Y/N,” he urged, his gaze earnest and imploring. The vulnerability he displayed was a stark contrast to what he portrayed in the office just moments ago. This was a side of him that revealed his deep feelings, and it struck a chord within you.
Your heart raced as you absorbed his words, the truth of them resonating deep inside. You had long felt the magnetic pull toward him, the warmth in his presence that made you feel seen in a way Siwoo never had. You realized in that moment that you, too, wanted to love him—fully and unreservedly.
Compelled by a rush of emotion, you leaned in closer, the space between you evaporating. Your lips met his in a tender kiss, a hesitant exploration that quickly deepened as he responded. His hands found their way to your face, cradling it gently as he pulled you in, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.
“Fuck- if you kiss me like that I might take you right here again” Hongjoong chuckles against your lips. And you giggle in response. However, his expression falls down.
“Y/N… I should tell you that Siwoo has been cheating on you.” Hongjoong sighs as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Who’s Siwoo?” You joke trying to mask your disappointment of him mentioning your now ex. “Y/N, I know I initiated an affair while you are dating him too but, you needed to know.” Hongjoong states in a serious tone.
“I know, Hongjoong.” You say softly. “I figured after our conversation we had on Friday, when he came over to my house the next day. I guess my naive self chose to ignore it… I messaged him earlier when we got to the car that I’m over with him. I’m no longer his.” You look at Hongjoong as he studies your face.
“So… does this mean you’re mine?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. You softly smile and shrug your shoulders. Hongjoong smirks at you and in an instant unbuckles his seat belt and exits the car. He makes his way to the passenger door and opens it. Swiftly, he lifts your body and throws you over his shoulder. You yelp in response and he carries you towards his house.
“You drove us to your house?!” You exclaim as you giggle over his shoulder.
“Let me remind you again who you really belong to” Hongjoong chuckles as he playfully slaps your ass and quickly makes his way through the doors of his home.
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Pt. 2 (updated 10/21)
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Author’s commentary: Should I do a sequel? 👀. I had way more ideas for this story but decided to cut it short LOLLL. Anyways, I hope yall enjoy😝 feel free to fangirl in my comment section/ ask box🤭.
#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez smut#ateez x reader#ateez fanfiction#ateez writing#yeostinywrites#hongjoong smut#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong fanfic#hongjoong imagines#hongjoong hard thoughts#hongjoong#hongjoongcryforme
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I bet on losing dogs || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Summary: The complications of reader's first pregnancy
Warnings: this fic deals with a miscarriage please read at your own risk, mention of blood, angst
Word count: 1,55
A/n: This is what readers mother was referring to in foreign feelings if you are confused with the timeline of anything, feel free to ask but this occurs after first pregnancy and before reader finds out she is pregnant again with Leo (a fic I haven't written yet)
divider by @h-aewo
You hear Rafe let out a loud sigh as he settles under the covers, his usual tension evident even as he prepares for bed. You glance over at him, noting the way he turns his back to you. With a soft exhale, you make your way to the bathroom, the familiar fluorescent lights flickering on as you begin your nightly skincare routine.
It’s a soothing ritual, one of the few moments you feel entirely in control, a brief escape from the complexities of your life with him. You open the drawer, carefully pulling out your favourite cleanser, the cool feel of it against your skin offering comfort as you massage it in slow, circular motions. Through the mirror, your eyes flicker back to Rafe’s figure, now still under the blankets.
His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the soft rise of his breath somehow grounding yet distant. You wonder, for a brief moment, what’s on his mind, but you shake the thought away, knowing that such questions are often met with cold indifference or irritation. As you close the lid of your moisturiser, you pause, your hand freezing mid-motion as a sharp pain suddenly radiates through your stomach.
A wince escapes your lips, the pain so sudden and intense it takes your breath away. You grip the counter, steadying yourself, eyes squeezed shut as you try to will it away. The silence of the room feels heavier now, and you glance again at Rafe, who remains motionless. Despite the growing ache in your body, you resist the urge to wake him, knowing that any sign of weakness would only widen the rift between you two.
Forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, you push past it, trying to maintain your calm. But the sensation of liquid rolling down your thigh causes a wave of panic to seize your chest. Slowly, with trembling hands, you reach beneath your nightgown. Your breath hitches in terror as your fingertips come away slick with blood. “Rafe…” your voice is barely above a whisper, fragile and trembling as your eyes lock onto the crimson stain spreading across your once pristine white nightgown.
“Oh my god…” you choke out, your heart racing as the blood pools beneath your feet, a deep, horrifying red against the cold bathroom tiles. "Rafe!" Your voice cracks, louder this time, filled with raw panic as the sobs come uncontrollably. Rafe jolts awake, startled by the sound of his name. Groggy and confused, he turns toward the bathroom, squinting against the light as he tries to focus.
The sight of you, slumped and trembling, blood staining your gown, pulls him from the haze of sleep in an instant. “Rafe, the baby. Is the baby okay? Why’s there so much blood!” Your words come out in a terrified rush, your sobs making it difficult to breathe as you clutch your stomach. Rafe’s eyes widen in horror, his expression rapidly shifting from confusion to alarm.
“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, his voice tense, almost as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. He stumbles out of the bed, rushing toward you, but before he can reach you, you collapse to your knees, cradling yourself, the blood continuing to seep into the floor beneath you. Rafe stands by the door, eyes wide. “Fuck… Anita!” Rafe yells, his voice desperate as he runs toward the door, his panic bubbling over.
He shouts for Anita again, his voice echoing through the house, but the seconds stretch on, feeling like an eternity as you sit there, your body trembling violently with sobs. You hold yourself tighter, rocking slightly as the tears fall, the world around you closing in. Rafe comes rushing back in, his face pale and frantic as he stares at you, at the blood. He stumbles, clearly unsure of what to do as panic claws at him too.
For once, the cold mask he usually wears in moments of crisis has shattered. He kneels beside you, reaching out but hesitating, his hands shaking as he hovers over you. “I—shit, we need to get you to a hospital.” His voice wavers, no longer the confident Rafe you’re used to seeing. “No-no. My parents will hear about it, I haven’t told them yet remember?” you murmur through shaky breaths, your voice fragile and barely audible.
Rafe stares at you, his usual coldness softened as he gently brushes the stray strands of hair from your tear-streaked face. “Okay, okay—uh—I’ll call James,” he replies, swallowing hard as if to steady himself. You give a weak nod, trying to focus on your breathing, though every second feels like agony. He stands up, glancing at you one last time before quickly leaving the room. Within minutes, another sharp pain grips your abdomen.
A choked sob escapes your lips, and you bite down on the back of your hand, tears spilling freely as the pain intensifies. "Hey, hey. Let's get you in the bathtub," Rafe’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle, reaches you through the haze of your suffering. He kneels beside you, carefully helping you to your feet. The warmth of his touch feels distant, like a lifeline you’re too afraid to grasp.
Rafe moves quickly, turning on the water before easing you into the tub. You draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as the sobs wrack your body. The sound of the water fills the room, mingling with the raw, broken cries you try to muffle. Rafe watches you from the side, his heart constricting at the sight of you so vulnerable, so broken. His mind flashes back to when you first told him about the pregnancy, the disbelief and apprehension that had shadowed his reaction.
Now, all of it feels so distant, as if the fragile hope of that moment has been ripped away. “Good lord,” Anita’s voice breaks through the quiet tension, her shock evident as she takes in the blood-stained floor, her steps faltering at the doorway. James follows closely behind her, his face grim, prepared for the worst. Anita rushes to your side, and Rafe stands, backing away to give her space as she kneels by the tub.
Anita wraps you in her arms, her presence grounding you in a way that only she could. Her hand strokes your back in soothing circles, her words soft and gentle. “It’s okay, shh, just let it out. I’m here, my love.” “T-There was so much blood, Anita. So much,” you gasp between sobs, your voice trembling with terror. “I know, I know, just try and calm down,” Anita murmurs, her voice unwavering, though her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
Meanwhile, James exchanges a somber look with Rafe before stepping forward. “You’ll still bleed for a little while, Y/n. I’ll give you something to calm down, but right now, your body needs to process what’s happening.” His voice is calm, measured, though the sorrow in his eyes is unmistakable. “I am so terribly sorry for your loss.”
You lift your gaze, and through tear-blurred vision, you see Rafe standing by the bathroom counter, his hands tangled in his hair, his expression dark and haunted. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the weight of everything presses down on you. The grief, the guilt—it’s suffocating. Rafe’s head snaps up, and the room falls silent as everyone’s attention shifts to you. “For what?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet, and he pushes himself off the counter, stepping toward you.
“For losing the baby—” you begin, your voice small and broken, but Rafe interrupts, his tone sharp, almost impatient. “Don’t be sorry. You’ll have plenty more chances of being pregnant again,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration, as if your sorrow is misplaced. It’s the coldness in his tone that stings the most, as though the loss is nothing more than a setback, something that can be fixed or replaced.
You fall silent, staring down at your feet, the water lapping softly against the tub. The ache in your chest deepens, not just from the physical pain but from the emotional distance between you and Rafe. You feel the weight of his indifference like a stone pressing down on your already fragile heart. “But what if I’m not meant to carry a child?” The words spill out before you can stop them, the doubt and fear you’ve been holding inside for so long finally breaking free.
“Don’t say such a thing,” Anita’s voice is firm, her hand tightening on your shoulder. “You’re a perfectly healthy woman who was unfortunate to have a miscarriage. This isn’t your fault.” Her voice is soothing, but you can’t help the gnawing sense of inadequacy that grips you. Rafe stands quietly, his gaze hardening, as if he can’t quite understand your grief—or perhaps, refuses to.
He’s always been practical, focused on the future, but in this moment, all you want is for him to see you, to acknowledge the depth of what you’ve lost. Instead, you’re left feeling more alone than ever, despite the people surrounding you.
#rafe cameron x fem!reader forced marriage au#drew starkey#rafe cameron#outer banks#fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x you#drew starkey x y/n#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x smut#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe cameron prompt#outerbanks rafe#outerbanks#outerbanks x reader#outer banks x y/n#outer banks fanfiction
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Euphoria
professor!Joel Miller x student!f!Reader
Summary: One wrong call led to this, that instead of your boyfriend, it's your professor who picks you up from the party. Warnings: +18, MDNI, mention of drugs and alcohol, use of drugs (by reader), being under the influence of drugs, protective!Joel, angst, professor-student relationship, age gap (not specified), kinda perv!Joel(??? idk you'll judge), blowjob, pussy eating, cheating (kinda), protected PIV (he had a vasectomy), creampie, dom!Joel, no-outbreak AU, Sarah’s alive and happy, dubcon kinda? Wordcount: 8,1k An: Hiii, I would like to ask you to read the warnings before reading. If you are comfortable with the topic of drugs, angst and sex under the influence, I invite you to read and I hope you enjoy it. Meal is a meal and professor Miller is professor Miller so… this is just a good shit. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3 Music I worked with: Make You Mine - Madison Beer
Masterlist
The music was getting louder in your ears. Pushing through the sweaty, dancing people was becoming more and more of a challenge. Everything was starting to spin. You needed some fresh air.
The pills you took didn't work as they should have. Maybe you drank too much before, maybe you had a bad day, or maybe the guy had some shitty stuff.
Your lungs started to collapse more and more as you tried to take another breath. You panicked. You started pushing through the crowd faster and more aggressively. They didn't give a shit about you as much as you didn't give a shit about them.
Here, everyone lived their own life. Everyone had fun. You wanted too.
Until now.
A silent scream tried to escape you as you began to gulp air. You couldn't breathe any other way. You were getting weaker and weaker. Everything was getting hazy. The music was getting less and less distinct. Everything was like behind thick glass.
And right in the middle, in a little glass box, was you. Locked away with no access to oxygen and no cry for help.
You were alone.
Just when you thought the crowd would swallow you, you saw the door. A light at the end of the tunnel.
Something inside you, some instinct, forced your legs to move towards the exit. Your body acted as if it was programmed, like you weren't the one controlling it. Some greater force was moving you like a puppet.
The same force made the mysterious man appeared in front of you. You stopped, frowning and trying to focus your vision to identify his identity. But his face was blurry. Just like the touch of his arms, which wrapped around you to stop your body from falling.
"You've had enough for now," he said, slightly amused, and began to pull you towards the exit. You knew him. His voice was like a breath of fresh air and his arms gave you a false sense of security. You liked that voice. You liked the feeling that allowed you to take a moment to rest amidst the chaos around you and inside you.
"Call Joel," you mumbled indistinctly.
You reached your hand into the back pocket of your jeans and tried to pull out your phone a few times, but your strength disappeared. You couldn't even bring yourself to clench your fingers around this damn thing.
You were helpless and barely conscious, which made tears appear in your eyes.
Why did something like this have to happen when you finally wanted to break free and needed it more than anything else?
Why couldn't you have fun like the rest of them for once?
Why was it always you who got screwed?
"What's your password?" The pleasant male voice spoke again.
You frowned, closing your eyes as you tried to force yourself to think, or worse – say it out loud. The wind blow across your heated skin, making you shiver. You were freezing cold despite it being the middle of summer.
You felt bad and it was getting worse with every passing minute.
"Four zeros," you managed to choke out and looked around shakily. You were standing at the top of the stairs leading to the house.
When had you two left? You didn't register that moment.
The arm around your waist dug harder into your flesh as your knees buckled beneath you. You gasped, trying to keep your weight on the unstable sticks which were your, not so useful right now, legs.
The slightest gust of wind, or even a slight tilt of your head, made you swung like a blade of grass in the wind.
The feeling of falling sent panic through the corners of your brain, but your eyelids continued to droop heavily, blocking your vision. You braced yourself for the pain that was about to dull the rest of your senses, but all you felt was something hard under and behind you. After a moment, a cold sensation appeared around your head, which brought you no small amount of relief.
You purred with pleasure, snuggling closer to the metal railings by the stairs. Your friend looked down at you with concern before he went back to searching for the right contact in your phone.
And that's when the first problem appeared.
You had two phone numbers saved the same way.
Joel.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath and selected the first contact.
Seconds passed, another ring sounded by his ear until automatic voicemail went off.
In that case, it had to be the second number, he thought. Since the first one was inactive, the second one had to be the good one, right?
Bull's eye.
After the third ring, a sleepy 'hello' sounded in the speaker.
"Hi, sorry to wake you up, but your girlfriend isn't in the best shape," he started immediately, glancing at your semi-conscious figure, cowering on the stairs. “’think she took some crappy stuff and is goin’ down the drain. She told me to call you. Can you come pick her up?”
There was silence on the other end.
A long silence.
A drawn-out silence.
He had to check phone to make sure the call was still going.
“Hello?”
“Give me the address.”
A quick exchange of the most necessary information ended the conversation. That was enough for Joel to appear in the district where the address was located in less than twenty minutes.
You were sitting cuddled in the arm of your friend, who was soothingly stroking your back. He didn't know if you had fallen asleep or if you were just that calm. He only hoped that you weren't struggling too much in your head after taking some shit. You weren't able to help him find out what and who you took it from.
His attention was drawn to the car that stopped in front of the house.
"Joel came to pick you up," he whispered with a smile and noticed that you woke up a bit at his words. You blinked a few times, raising your gaze.
"’s not that Joel," you mumbled.
He frowned, surprised by your reaction, and looked towards the man who just got out of the car and headed towards you.
At first, he couldn't recognize his face, but the closer he got, the clearer it became.
Indeed, he didn't look like your boyfriend. He was... too old to be in a relationship with you. He looked more like your father.
Maybe he was your uncle and he just got you into trouble? Damn it.
"You're not her boyfriend," he stated as Joel stopped by the stairs. His gaze was fixed on you and this sight definitely didn't satisfy him but he tried to didn't show it.
"Do I look like him?" he muttered unpleasantly and looked disapprovingly at the young boy who was holding you in his arms.
His silence was quite telling.
"What did she take?" he asked glancing at your barely conscious form.
"I don't–"
"Wonderful." The rough answer, silenced him effectively. "Did she have some stuff with her?" The next question only stressed the young boy out more.
"Are you her father or somethin’?" he asked, a bit skeptical of the older man.
"I'm her teacher," he replied, pressing his lips together tightly at the sight of you.
No one expected such an answer.
A quiet voice in your friend head blamed him for confusing the contacts and calling a strange guy instead of your boyfriend. What confused him more, was reason, why you had your teacher's number in your phone. And what was even more interesting, was why he picked up at such a late hour and decided to come pick you up.
"I–" he began, not very convinced by the fact that he had to hand you over to a strange guy who was your 'teacher'.
"I'll take her home," he cut him off firmly before he could express his distrust.
Without waiting for the boy to answer, Joel approached you and took your jaw in his hand. You frowned at the sudden movement, because your head was spinning in a bad way. Your gaze was absent as he tried to assess your condition.
Fact, you were in bad shape. He didn't even know if you were able to recognize him, which made the situation a bit more difficult.
"Sweetheart, tell me what you took," he said in a soft but firm tone.
You snorted sweetly, because his voice had a strangely soothing effect on your insides. You couldn't recognize his blurry face, but his touch was familiar. Warm, thick fingers that sent warm shivers through your body. You wanted to melt in his hand, and that's exactly what you did.
The entire weight of your head flew towards him, which made him tighten his grip, digging his fingers into your cheeks.
"Sweetheart..." he repeated softly to get your attention.
You opened your eyes with a blissful smile and tried with all your might to remember who those dark chocolate eyes belonged to. But it was his glasses that made a light bulb go off in your head.
“Just one blue pill, Professor,” you replied, causing relief from Joel and surprise from your friend.
"What are the blue ones for?" he asked, returning to his cold tone as he looked at the young boy.
"I– I don't know," he stuttered, frightened by sudden change in man’s behavior towards him.
"Then find out," he growled, nodding toward the house. Not a second had passed when the boy hurriedly disappeared behind the door.
Joel looked at you again with concern. You didn't look as bad as you had a moment ago. In fact, you looked like you were having a great time. Maybe you had a slightly wandering look, but the smile on your face and the sparkles in your eyes gave a misleading impression.
He knelt down in front of you with a quiet groan and looked at you from every side. There were no signs that anything bad had happened to you.
One stone from the heart. You were safe and sound. A little high, but healthy.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked and with his other hand he fixed the hair that was falling over your face. You watched his movements as if enchanted.
Everything had more vivid colors. His eyes were darker, deeper; you could drown in them. Every move he made seemed to play out in slow motion, giving you all the time you wanted to admire him.
"Joel Miller," you replied, smiling wider. "I didn't know you liked parties," you added before he could say anything. You threw him off balance with that.
He frowned, looking at you closely and he had to admit that he himself had once been young and had done a lot of... illegal things; that's why he decided to go in the direction you had imposed.
"I don't, but sometimes it happens and I end in places like this. I'm a little too old for such fun, you know?" he smiled gently, seeing that you were feeling better and better or the opposite – the drugs were starting to work.
"Just like me. But I'm young." You laughed charmingly, to which he laughed too and nodded. Your burst of energy was starting to worry him a little, but he'd rather that than you having a bad trip.
"So... since we're both not into parties, how about I take you home?"
He was treading thin ice to see if you'd cooperate with him. Unfortunately, your smile suddenly disappeared and he cursed in his mind.
"I can't, my parents think I'm at a friend's," you explained, rubbing your arm nervously.
Okay, that wasn't the answer that would put him in a bind.
"Then I'll take you to your friend's," he suggested but all he got in response was a negative shake of the head.
"She left."
That was already causing a bigger problem.
Joel tried to think quickly. All the possibilities flew through his head, choosing a few that he could test.
"Your friend said something about your boyfriend," he remembered, feeling that this was the way out of the whole situation. Your boyfriend, who was supposed to come here instead of him. At least that's what he concluded from the call he received.
"That asshole stood me up. He was supposed to come here with me, but he went with his friends to who knows where," you snapped, feeling furious at the jerk who dared to call himself your partner. Maybe you would regret this relationship if it wasn't for the fact that you were together for sex. Actually, apart from that, you didn't even like each other that much.
Despite that, he was good in bed, he took care of you at parties and other outings, and his name was Joel.
Exactly.
You were with him because you could shamelessly scream his name while you fucked, while really thinking about someone else. But that was your sweet secret. Sweet secret that held your jaw, staring at you through the lenses of his glasses.
"You don’t have anyone I could take you to?" he asked, increasingly helpless.
You smiled sweetly and shook your head in denial. "Nope."
A quiet sigh left his lips as he tried to think of a way out of this situation.
The worry in his eyes didn't match your current mood. You didn't like the fact that he was sad around you. You wanted to have fun, be happy, forget about all your problems for a moment.
"That's why I have to stay at the party until the morning," you said with a wide smile, at which he frowned.
"No," he ordered seriously, surprising you a bit. You rarely witnessed Joel addressing anyone like that. Especially you – his favorite. "I won't let you stay here when you're under the influence of some shitty pills."
"But–"
"No," he cut you off immediately. "I don't want to hear a word of protest. I'm your teacher even outside of working hours. I have to take care of your safety." His tone clearly indicated that he didn't want to hear your reasons for staying.
How could you argue with a man whose every word was sacred to you? Even if you wanted to, you couldn't because your friend came out of the house, catching your attention or at least Joel's attention, because yours was still focused only on him.
A smile bloomed on your face again as you could look at him with impunity.
Oh, he was handsome.
Deadly handsome for a man his age. Your father was younger than him and he looked much worse.
How was it even possible that you started to be attracted to a man older than your own father? You didn't know that, but you weren't going to delve into it because you liked the feeling he aroused in you.
"She took ecstasy." You heard from somewhere behind you before Joel looked straight into your eyes again as if he was looking for something. You didn't know for what, because he couldn't be looking for you; you were right in front of him.
"Come on, sweetheart," he sighed with a warm smile and slowly stood up. "I'll take you home, okay?" he suggested, holding out his hand to you.
You looked up at him with doe eyes and nodded silently. You didn't want him to be mad at you.
You didn't want to let him down so you politely gave him your hand and let him pull you up. It took a moment for your legs to get used to doing their duties again before you could fully stand on your own but despite that, Joel still wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you tightly to his side.
He didn’t want to risk you falling and cracking your head. Fate liked to play games with people and he had learned that the hard way many times. Way too many times.
Without any additional pleasantries, he led you to his car and sat you in the passenger seat. Your head was getting heavier as you tried to watch his movements; the way he fastened your seatbelt, the way he made sure you weren't sick, the way he ran his gaze down your body to make sure everything was okay.
But all he had to do was close the door and your eyelids closed by themselves. The car was quiet, nice and warm. You felt safe and the delicate scent of perfume he used only relaxed your muscles more.
Joel got into the car and before he drove away, he glanced at how you were trying not to let your eyelids fall. He sighed quietly, shaking his head in resignation and slowly drove out onto the street. Silence fell between you due to the fact that you had lost the fight with tiredness and simply fell asleep.
And at the same time he was struggling with his thoughts of what he should do. What was appropriate for him to do. He should have taken you home. Even if you were going to have a row after crossing the threshold. It was none of his business what happened to you after he got you to safety.
But another thought lurked in his mind. An idea that shouldn't have been there. Had no right to be there. Yet this thought overshadowed what was right.
Because Joel had long since admitted to himself that you were more important to him than the rest of the students. He had stopped denying how much he enjoyed sitting with you in his office in the evenings, helping you study. After many months of struggling with himself, he realized how much he appreciated your company, your attention, your smile, all of you.
That's why the thought of taking you home and witnessing the fight immediately slipped of off his mind.
He didn't want to cause you any trouble at home. The fact that he found you in such a state only proved that you had enough to worry about. Why would he give you more? He didn't like it when your pretty little head was filled with problems he couldn't help you with. But with what was happening now, he could help you.
That’s why after twenty minutes he stopped in front of his house.
You continued to sleep soundly, not worrying about anything anymore and he didn't have the heart to wake you up. You looked too innocent for him to interrupt your peaceful state of unconsciousness. The smudged mascara and a bit of glitter on your eyelids only added to your charm.
Joel really wanted to hate himself for the way his heart beat at the sight of you, but he couldn't. He couldn't hate the feeling you evoked in him. Because this feeling was good. Warmth spread across his chest and more wrinkles formed around his eyes from the wide smiles you caused in him.
You were like a ray of sunshine. Why would he hate the sunbeam that fell on him?
He knew he shouldn't feel this way. You were his student, the best he'd ever had the chance to teach. But he couldn't fight it. Not when you were pushing yourself into his arms. When you gave him your full attention. When your hand touched his every chance you got. He just couldn't.
That's why it didn't bother him at all to carry you home. Actually, he did it with all too much desire. He couldn't resist the feeling of holding you in his arms as your head rested peacefully on his shoulder.
The door closed behind him with a soft click as he slowly walked down the hallway. Darkness reigned everywhere after he was suddenly yanked out of bed. Now there wasn't much left of his desire to sleep.
He carefully opened the door to the guest room and tightened his arms a little as he walked with you over the threshold. As if to spite you, your phone began to vibrate, which made you grumble anxiously. He quickly laid you on the bed and reached into the back pocket of your pants. The bright screen forced him to squint as he tried to see who was calling you at this hour.
Joel.
He frowned, glancing at you and then back at the phone. Before he could think about his decision, he clicked the red receiver, rejecting the call and muted your phone, placing it on the cabinet next to it. Just in case, he did it in such a way that another incoming call wouldn't be visible.
Your quiet groan caught his attention so he didn't wait for you to wake up any longer and carefully started to take off your shoes; right after that, socks. He couldn't let you sleep uncomfortably after, what was probably a pretty lively, party. He felt that he had to take care of not only your safety but also your comfort, so that you could wake up in the morning without any consequences after tonight. And only because of that reason, his gaze wandered to your legs covered in jeans.
He cursed himself in his mind because of the ideas that started to come to his mind.
He couldn't.
He should leave you like this and go back to his bedroom.
He should have done it.
And yet, he leaned closer to you and gently stroked your cheek. "Sweetheart," he said quietly, wanting to wake you up.
Although there was at least that much common sense left in him.
He smiled fondly when he saw that you opened your eyelids a little with a grunt. "Lift your hips," he ordered and all he got in response was to do as he asked. No questions or comments.
Feeling the growing tightness in his chest, he unbuttoned your button and zipper. Deep down he knew how fucking wrong it was. But he couldn't fight it as his fingers began to slide the material of your jeans down your hips.
Another grievous sin was added to his mental list as his gaze fell on your underwear. The lump in his throat began to grow with every second his eyes were fixed on your black panties.
So damn plain black cotton panties.
Then why was this the sexiest sight in his whole life?
"Fuck," he cursed in a whisper and pulled your pants all the way down. Then your hips fell back onto the mattress with a quiet sigh.
He felt like a pervert, seeing you like this when you were on the edge of reality and dream so he forced himself to leave the room while he still could.
How long before he gave in?
It took a trip to the bathroom and his room.
Then he reappeared by the bed where you were lying half naked; with his old t-shirt in one hand and micellar fluid in the other. Having a daughter had many advantages, so he knew that falling asleep with makeup on was not something pleasant.
That's why for the next ten minutes he gently wiped your face with soaked cotton pads. He sat by your side, carefully wiped off the smallest traces of makeup and had to admit, that it was also refreshing even for him. A moment of silence helped him calm his thoughts, and the sight of your innocent face only confirmed that he had to take care of you. That was all that mattered now.
Until the moment you purred and delicate smile spread across your lips.
That was enough for a burning heat to appear in his chest again.
"This feels nice," you whispered in a slightly hoarse voice.
Joel was just finishing cleaning your cheek when your eyes began to stare at him. This time you didn't have a wandering gaze. You seemed... normal.
He quickly believed it because he wanted to believe it. He wanted you to be sober at the moment when you were closer than ever before. When you were in his house. Lying in his bed. On his sheets.
"How do you feel?" he asked, placing the cotton pad on the cabinet next to him, not taking his eyes off your shiny ones.
"Good." Your smile didn't disappear for a moment as you watched him carefully. You definitely weren't complaining about seeing him, but you wondered about other thing. "Where are we?" After that question, you looked around the dark room a bit. You didn't remember ever being in this place. It was too pretty here compared to the places you usually stayed.
"In my house," he replied, a bit afraid of your reaction.
Maybe he really should have taken you to your house despite the problems that were to come?
Maybe he went too far by bringing you to his place without your consent.
It's true that at university you were close, but it was always at the university. Never outside of it.
"It's nice here."
Your comment dispelled all his doubts. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath when a sigh of relief finally left his lungs.
"Do you need anything?" he asked, wanting to get back on solid ground.
Your presence of mind would allow him to pull himself together. All you had to do was say you were tired. That you wanted to go to sleep. That you wanted for him to leave you alone.
Anything that would indicate that he should go and leave you alone.
"Can I have a glass of water, please?" you asked, looking at him as if the request was too much to ask for.
You had already violated his hospitality. He had picked you up from a party in the middle of the night and brought you to his house. You were slowly starting to feel like an idiot.
"Of course," he nodded and left the room, leaving you alone.
You rubbed your face with your hand and slowly sat up. A penetrating feeling of shame crept into your head as you began to look at your thighs.
Did you undress yourself or did he undress you? You probably didn't want to know the answer to that question.
You felt like you'd already made a fool of yourself. You couldn't even tell if the drugs were still affecting you. You felt light, good, but your mind was starting to work differently. You didn't know what to focus on what to think. There were so many things happening that you should have been in control of right now and yet you sat there helplessly, staring at your flesh.
You came to the conclusion that you probably didn't have the strength to feel ashamed of what was happening now. You were too tired. Your mind wouldn't cooperate with you, so the best option was to face everything in the morning.
Despite your momentary sobriety, you still couldn't fight the feeling that was growing in your belly. Like a big warm ball was warming up your insides and giving you pleasure. That was the only reason you had a constant blissful smile on your face. It felt good. Focusing on that feeling was much more enjoyable than trying to think.
Joel returned a few minutes later with a glass of water, finding you dressed in his shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed with your head down. He swallowed hard, fighting the feeling the sight of you had stirred in him. He didn't want to admit what it was doing to him.
“Here,” he said, catching your attention. You looked up at him, your eyes so big and shiny that he had to clench his jaw to control his emotions. It wasn’t until a moment later that your gaze dropped to the glass in front of your face and, with a silent 'thank you', you took it.
In silence, he sat down next to you and watched as you took small sips. The cold water brought you some relief and tasted much better than usual. Only when you had drunk half a glass, you put it on the cabinet next to you and wiped your lips with the back of your hand. The silence echoed in your ears, making you focus more on the growing feeling of pleasure in your body.
You had to do something to not fall into this.
"I'm sorry," you said, starting to gently bite your lip. Despite the whole situation, you wanted to smile. "This wasn't supposed to be like this."
"And what was it supposed to be like?" His question made you look at him. Warmth radiated from him. He didn't seem angry. He didn't seem like he blamed you for your irresponsibility. It was a strangely pleasant change from what you usually experienced with your father.
You laughed quietly and looked down. “I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging. You didn’t even know how to answer that question. Because what exactly did you expect? “I wanted to escape reality for a bit.”
“Aren’t there other ways to do it?”
“There probably are, but that was the only one I know of.”
You might be ashamed of it, but it was the truth. There was nothing in your life that would allow you to forget, even for a moment, all the shit that was going on around you.
You didn't want to think about it at a time when you felt light as a feather. You clenched your fists tighter into the mattress to hold back your smile because all you wanted to do was gasp while laughing at how good you felt.
Joel didn't seem to notice. He felt like you were struggling with negative emotions and he wanted so badly to help you get rid of the thoughts that were occupying your mind. You looked like you were at least physically in pain as your entire body tensed up as if searching for the slightest point of contact. Without thinking too much, his hand covered yours. You let out a shaky breath as his large fingers tightened around yours. It was a comforting gesture on his part, but to you it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. His touch was all you could focus on. The hot, large hand that was touching your small, cold one.
You began to tremble. Everything inside you began to crave more of that feeling, even though his hand alone was enough to make a moan die in your throat.
"I want to help you."
His offer hung between you like heavy clouds. His words had no second meaning, and yet you took it that way.
He wanted to help you. But how?
How could he make your mind stop running with tormenting thoughts?
You searched for the answer to this question in his eyes and even though this was an ordinary question, something else was lurking inside him. Something that you caught. Or at least that's what you thought.
However, thinking at a time like this wasn't working out very well for you. That's why you didn't know how your lips found their way to his. You couldn't remember when you got so close, pressing a strong kiss to his mouth.
You squeezed your eyes shut, frozen and waiting for his answer but Joel was in too much shock to do anything. Even breathing seemed like a superhuman ability now. That's why after the seconds dragged on, you pulled away with a sense of shame. Seeing the shock on his face, you really felt like an idiot but you couldn't control yourself. You didn't even know how on earth you decided to do something like that. How on earth did you decide to cross the sacred border.
"Professor, I'm sorry-" you tried to explain yourself but then his hand found its way into your hair, pulling you firmly only for him to initiate the kiss this time.
You moaned not expecting such a turn of events. His stubble pleasantly irritated your skin, sending waves of stars all over your body. A smile spread across your lips as his proximity began to stimulate you. Soft lips perfectly matched yours. Every kiss he gave you was like you had done it a thousand times before. His tongue was delicate and sweet, making you purr with pleasure. Every second of his closeness gave you more strength.
He and drugs were the most addictive combination you had ever had the opportunity to try. Apart from the fact that all your desires, that you had for this man for a very long time, were coming true.
Neither of you even thought about how fucked up it all was. You both wanted this too much to care about anything but each other's touch.
Even Joel started to feel like he was high. Your soft lips and quiet sighs gave him shivers of desire. He couldn't remember the last time his cock hardened as quickly as the moment your hand started to travel up his thigh.
He couldn't hold back a groan when your fingers gently tightened around the bulge in his sweatpants. The mere fact that he was so turned on by you, sent waves of arousal through every corner of your body. Heavenly feeling overshadowed all your senses.
“Please,” you whispered desperately into his mouth.
You felt his hand tighten around yours, making him moan, and you took that as an answer. You hooked your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, silently asking him to take them off. And that’s exactly what he did, without thinking too much, he lifted his hips and slid everything in your way off of them. Your kisses became sloppier and deeper as your hand found its way to his cock again.
Cold fingers wrapped around his hot, throbbing friend. The skin-to-skin contact elicited a throaty groan from him.
He was thick. You could barely contain him as you slowly began to pump him, up and down, letting more precum wet his tip. You gently ran your thumb over his head to spread everything. His cock trembled in your hand, trying to escape the too intense feeling.
His fingers tightened on your hair and his lips stopped coordinating with yours. You smiled widely and synchronized your kisses with the movements of your hand. With your tongue, you collected all the moans that came out of him. Joel felt like he was in a trap that he didn't want to get out of. Your gentle kisses and touch were driving him to the limits of his self-control.
And any remaining control disappeared the moment you fell to your knees before him.
You settled comfortably between his thighs, licking your lips. Joel sighed at the sight and propped himself up on his hands, leaning back a bit to get a better view of the way a string of saliva flew out of your mouth. His cock didn't even have time to twitch at this feeling because his tip disappeared into your mouth.
“Oh fuck,” he inhaled loudly.
You didn't give him a chance to get used to your warm tongue before you swallowed him halfway. He winced at the sudden surge of pleasure and looked at you with his mouth parted. You began to work your head, taking him deeper with each pass.
You were determined to swallow him whole, despite what you were capable of. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do it, that you could do more for him than for others.
“That's right, baby,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Hearing the praise from his lips, you felt like you were capable of anything. And that's exactly what you did, swallowing him whole.
A loud moan bounced off the walls as your throat tightened around his tip. He thrust his hips, trying to go deeper, and you let him. You pressed your nose into his flesh, holding him completely in your mouth. Joel watched everything with delight. Every twitch of his cock causing your walls to tighten around him.
He tried to breathe calmly but he couldn't focus on anything except how wonderful it felt to feel your mouth on his dick. He preferred not to admit how many times he had seen this sight before his eyes when he masturbated. Now, when he was experiencing it firsthand, he felt like he was in heaven. His imagination couldn't even match up to how skillfully you drove him crazy.
You started to choke so you immediately pulled away from his crotch. A string of saliva was the only thing that connected you two as you raised a tearful gaze at him. Joel was breathing heavily as he stared at you with adoration. And even though he wanted to feel your lips around him again, he couldn't stop himself from feeling them on him again.
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hard kiss and covered your cheeks with his hands, forcing you to stand up. You didn't resist his movements, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. His cock throbbed, hitting your lower abdomen, causing another wave of arousal to start leaking out of you.
You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, deepening the kiss and allowing yourself a moment to play with his tongue. Joel was more than willing to let you do whatever you wanted to him. He gripped your ass tightly, earning a moan from you.
The hot ball inside you turned into a real fire between your thighs. The feeling was starting to overwhelm you, forcing quiet squeals out of you as you rubbed against his hard cock over and over again.
You needed to get rid of this feeling.
You needed to relieve yourself of the pain of arousal.
“Please, I want you inside me.”
Your silent plea didn't have to wait long for his answer. In one movement, he turned you over, letting you fall onto the soft mattress. You gasped when he suddenly pulled away from you and practically ripped your panties off. All the wetness smeared across the inside of your thighs but Joel was too busy to notice. He squeeze your panties in his hand, feeling the black material was completely soaked and shamelessly inhaled your scent.
Your pheromones awakened things in him he didn't know existed. Like in a frenzy, he hid your underwear in the pocket of his sweatpants and blindly threw his glasses on the table. He didn't really care that they probably broke when you writhed in anticipation on the bed in front of him.
"I've been waiting ages to find out what you taste like," he said, more to himself than to you, and grabbed you tightly by the hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. Your breath caught in your lungs as his hands began to roam your body in a possessive way and right under your shirt.
But when his face disappeared between your legs, you couldn't take the tension anymore and you threw your head back with a moan. Just the feeling of his breath and the knowledge of how close he was to your pussy was driving you crazy. He didn't have to do anything at all to make you writhe under him.
Every muscle in your body tensed as you felt him start to lick everything that smeared on your thigh. You began to pant heavily, feeling as he got closer to his goal with every second. Until finally, he planted the wettest, deepest kiss on your slit. You moaned loudly, arching your back at the overwhelming feeling. His tongue ran along the length of your pussy and with a growl of satisfaction, he sucked on your clit.
Instinctively, you clenched your fists tightly on the sheets and tried to move your hips out of his reach, but his hands on your waist effectively stopped your movements.
The sting of his beard perfectly matched his agile tongue. You were shocked at how quickly a familiar feeling began to gather in your lower abdomen. You couldn't remember the last time someone had brought you to such a state.
You didn't know what was causing it. The drugs that were still circulating in your blood, your desire for him or his amazing abilities. It was also possible that all of them at once made your legs tremble.
You wanted to scream, squeal, tell him to stop, tell him to continue. You couldn't decide but he made the decision for you, pulling away and depriving you of your orgasm. You opened your eyes, searching for him with your gaze and you wanted to beg him to come back to his place.
Seeing your gaze, a smirk appeared on his face. Having you in such a state made him feel like a god. He had already forgotten what it felt like to have such power over someone, to experience someone looking at you with such desire as you did for him when he took away your opportunity to come.
"You'll come with my cock inside you," he decided.
You blinked a few times and closed your mouth in shock. It was the first time you had witnessed such a change in his behavior and you had to admit that you liked him even more this way. You loved his gentle nature that surrounded you every day but his possessive version aroused a wild desire in you.
You wanted to dig your nails into his flesh until it bled and beg him to come inside you so hard and deep that you would see stars. But instead of saying that, you nodded, barely able to say a quiet 'okay'.
Your answer satisfied him.
Your submission satisfied him.
Holding his cock stiffly, he positioned himself between your legs. You felt him right at your entrance and you shuddered, clenching around nothing. Joel looked with satisfaction at the mess that you were. Disheveled hair, shiny eyes, his shirt that now revealed more than it covered.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispered affectionately at the sight of you.
Your breath caught in your throat when you locked eyes with him. But your eyes rolled back in an instant when his hands gripped your hips tightly and in one movement he pulled you to him, impaling you all the way on his cock. The cry that came out of you was the most animalistic sound he had ever heard. He shuddered with a moan feeling your tight pussy pulsating around him. He couldn't even experience this feeling in his dreams.
"I knew you'd be perfect," he gasped and slowly pulled out of you only to thrust hard back.
Another scream tore through your throat like fire but it didn't stop him from slowly setting the perfect pace for himself. The sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the room.
"Soaked, warm and tight."
He thrust harder and harder and you couldn't shake the feeling of him going so damn deep inside you. The arousal overshadowed the pain he was causing you. You weren't used to his cock. It was thicker and longer than the one you usually had inside you.
"Made especially for me," he growled, digging his fingers deeper into your hips.
You wrapped your hands around his wrists and dug your nails into them, silently begging for him to be more gentle.
You never expected someone like Joel to be so domineering in bed. In your fantasies, it was always you who was finishing him off, not him finishing you off.
“Who does this pussy belong to?” he panted, searching for your gaze until he finally found it, completely cock drunk. You winced as he thrust hard into you once again, not giving you a chance to catch your breath. He saw how bravely you were struggling with what he had given you, how you were trying to get used to his size. He felt you still clench around him tightly and if you could, you would rip his cock off. "To who?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.
For a guy his age, he held himself surprisingly well despite how fast he moved his hips, impaling you over and over again with his entire length.
"Toyoutoyoutoyou," you hissed in one breath and began to pant heavily, feeling the increasing tension in the muscles between your legs.
Joel smiled, pleased with the state he had brought you to, and pushed harder into you. That was the first time you saw stars and your lungs forgot how to breathe.
"You're right, to me," he nodded, leaning towards you. His hand slid under your shirt and after a moment it squeezed pleasantly painfully on your breast. You whimpered from the new stimulant that echoed off your clit. "And you know what I don't like?" he asked, teasing your nipple with his thumb, while slowing down the movements of his hips, entering you more passionately. "Sharing," he answered before his question even reached your consciousness.
Longer and longer moans accompanied every movement of his hips. His cock smoothly began to rub against that perfect spot in your pussy. You felt like crying from the pleasure that intensified the feeling of ecstasy inside you.
"Do you think your boyfriend will be happy when you tell him who's going to fuck you from now on?" he purred, rubbing his nose against your cheek. The scent of desperation filled his nostrils. You needed to come. You needed to be free from this burning feeling in your mind.
"What boyfriend?" you asked, overcome by the approaching fulfillment.
Joel smiled against your face and began to place wet kisses on your neck. You closed your eyes, tangling your fingers in his hair and fully surrendering yourself to everything he was giving you. His cock gently stimulated your cervix and the rest of his length created the perfect friction that drove you crazy. His hand sensually stroked your thigh and the other caressed your breast. This deadly combination quickly took away the last of your ability to think.
"Will you come for me, pretty girl?" he whispered, gently biting your skin. "Cum for me and let me fill you."
The only answer you were able to give him was a long moan as you reached your peak. You could dimly hear his praises and how proud he was of you. The feeling of euphoria spread through your body in strong waves, reaching the furthest corners of your body. Joel watched with fascination as the orgasm took over your body, the way you began to arch beneath him, the way you clenched your fingers tightly in his hair in need. This sight was something he feared he would never see again in his life. And yet, it was you lying beneath him, satisfied, overcome by pleasure.
The throbbing of your cunt and just you in yourself, drove him mad. Orgasm shook his body as if the last time he fucked was thirty years ago. The pleasure overpowered his ability to breathe. He froze, letting his cum fill you completely.
It felt like when he first discovered what his hand could do.
Overcome by the experience, he didn't even notice you watching him in silence, trying to calm your breathing. Your eyes sparkled as you stared at his tired face. You couldn't accept the fact that you had just experienced what you had dreamed of for a long time. And for the first time in a long time, you were just so fucking happy.
"Thank you," you whispered, placing your hands on his cheeks and lifting your head to connect your lips in a gentle kiss. Joel didn't resist even a second as he deepened the kiss, crushing you with his weight.
In that moment, you could admit that you forgot about the whole world. It was only him.
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#sanarsi fic
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‘your lover may not be the best in showing his affection for you, but when he does try, it’s always in the ways you least expect.’
☀︎|tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, slight angst, suggestive. subtly implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). size difference. mentions of hickeys. reader gets called ‘princess / little girl.’ based on an anon request.
“am home.” toji announces under his breath after locking the front door. he kicks his shoes off and makes a beeline towards your shared bedroom. as expected, you were there, body wrapped in a thick blanket to protect it from the recently cold temperatures.
you smile and toji’s fatigue becomes nonexistent. it was like he hadn’t just fought for his life for almost two hours straight — making money to quite literally survive. and to provide for you in the best way he could.
“ah, hi, babe! welcome hom—” your sentence was cut short by a heavy weight settling down atop your chest. toji’s body presses you back into the mattress, big hands instantly searching for their desired destination; that being your waist.
his warm breath - the heavy sigh that carried his worries - instantly softens the look in your eyes. it was this vulnerable side of your lover that you adored most. it wasn’t a sight you got to see often after all.
toji wordlessly attaches his lips to your exposed neck as he withdraws the blanket from your body. even though he has yet to utter a single word to you, his actions told you all, “missed you, toji.”
he mumbles something incoherent in response which you could guess were words of acknowledgement. you were ticklish, your skin tingling with every peck left by the dark-haired man whom you loved dearly.
“were ya waitin’ for me?” toji’s voice was muffled, his mouth busy kissing and sucking your skin. his rough fingers move under your clothes and run up to your shoulders—freeing them from the straps of your top.
you tilt your head to the right so he could gain more access to your skin. you didn’t protest nor said anything about toji’s sudden display of affection. you rub his back and allow a hum of satisfaction to escape your throat, “mhm. was waiting for you all night.”
your voice sounds like a soothing lullaby to the older man. a heavy breath leaves his lips and his sloppy kisses on your neck and shoulder blades abruptly come to a halt.
toji rests his head in the crook of your neck. the pad of his thumb travels up and down the marks he had left—his saliva subtly glistening under the light from the bedside lamp.
“tsk. i told ya not to stay up f’me, princess.” your lover grumbles with his tired eyes half-closed, fingers not stopping their rubbing motion, “but i guess there’s no point in tellin’ you that right now.”
toji still can’t understand why you go to great lengths to show your love for him. he’s a cold hearted assassin, a man whom is feared by many including his own clan and yet you love him unconditionally.
despite it all — he still appreciates the fact that you stay up to welcome him home. even if he may not directly show that said appreciation.
“‘i told ya not to stay up for me,’” you teasingly mimic toji’s deep voice and can only laugh at your own antics afterwards. however, a sudden pinch to your side makes you squirm and yelp. it didn’t stop there; toji took the opportunity whilst you were caged underneath him to remind you of who’s boss.
soon enough your high pitched squealing and broken giggles is all the noise that fills the room.
“whadd’ya say there, little girl?” toji grunts as he blocks your futile attempts to escape. he could see the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your body writhing around the best it could and your little hands trying desperately to push him away.
you shake your head and continuously apologise between loud giggles, vision blurry from the tears of joy. there’s a triumphant smirk on toji’s face once he notices how quickly you gave up your act of confidence, “heh, that’s what i thought.”
one of his hands gathers both of your wrists and effortlessly pins them above your head. with a grin, your lover kisses his way down to your neck again — this time being more passionate.
you take the chance to calm yourself down, chest still heaving with each breath. a pout forms on your lips, but was swiftly replaced by a content smile due to the giddy feeling in your chest.
it’s playful moments like these that remind you of the many reasons why you’ve fallen in love with a man like toji. to others, he might be nothing but a monster—a ruthless and cruel individual—but to you, he’s everything you need and vice versa.
toji’s lips were soft, yet lightly rough to the touch. they’re chapped from the cold temperature he had to withstand when he was outside. you felt bad; you had been laying in bed all night, wrapped up in multiple blankets whilst your lover was quietly suffering.
you know that if you tell toji your current worries, he’ll brush it off with a simple ‘tha’s just how it is’ or a ‘don’t worry ‘bout stuff like that’. still, you cannot help but be concerned about the way he easily disregards his own health.
“toji,” you call out his name as his kisses reach the curve of your breasts. the older man lifts his head in response, eyebrows slightly raised at the sound of his name leaving your lips.
you push down the lump in your throat. your warm hands cup his face and you could feel his stubble prickling your palms. you lower your gaze to the rest of his body — finally getting a good look at his worn out physique.
there were faint droplets of blood hidden right under the collar of his shirt. ones toji probably forgot to wipe away after his mission. his black shirt clings to his torso, the dark spots of sweat subtly evident and the small tears in the fabric proof of his hard work.
you could care less about the fact that toji hadn’t taken a shower before cuddling with you. the first thing he did when stepping into the apartment, was to search for you. that alone told you enough: he needed the comfort your presence brings him — he just didn’t know how to convey that message.
“kiss me.” you whisper and your lover immediately complies with zero hesitation; that’s exactly what he had waited for you to say. his lips crash down onto yours, his large hands hold you by your waist and his tongue brushes against yours like it was the first and last time you’d kiss.
toji’s breath hitches the moment he feels you tenderly scratch his arms with your nails. you always do that to calm his nerves after a stressful day—grazing the tips of your nails back and forth against his bare skin. and it works wonders each time.
“fuck,” the dark-haired man curses in a low tone. his grip tightens on your body and his lips detach from yours. you notice the look in his eyes once he opens them; the look of pure love for you, “i missed you so much — so fuckin’ much.”
you softly giggle at his passionate words and steal another kiss from him before settling back against the pillows. your hands travel upwards to play with his damp hair whilst your legs wrap around his waist.
toji gladly accepts your affection and settles down on top of your body again, careful not to completely crush you with his weight. his face was buried between your breasts, taking in the familiar scent of you which calms him down even more.
“i’m glad you’re back home.” you whisper lovingly whilst continuing to massage his scalp. your tired lover answers with a curt nod and a sigh — this time one of content instead of exhaustion.
“yeah, home.” toji wasn’t referring to your shared apartment. he was referring to you; his forever home. there was an overwhelming amount of love in his heart for you and only you.
if only he could properly express those feelings to you. if only he could express himself.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x you#toji x you#toji fluff#jjk x y/n#toji x y/n#female reader
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Content: domestic Simon ''Ghost'' Riley, husband!Simon, massages, fluff, A LOT of ass smacks because this man has a whole ass bakery.
Simon sat quietly next to you on the couch, mind reeling with the stress from the mission he just came back from, gaze distant and focused on staring ahead. You know better than to take it personal, aware that he simply needs time to unwind and process he's back home, safe and sound.
''Would you like a massage?'' You offer with a small smile, noticing how his muscles seem more tense than usual, bulging out of his clothes even more. He's quiet for a few seconds before looking at you, managing to return a half-smile and nod in agreement. Your hands hold his, trying to pull him out of the couch and being unable to— the asshole is making himself heavier on purpose, a smug smirk painting his lips at the thought of annoying his wife.
You pull harder, grunts escaping your lips because he's just too damn heavy.
''Simon.'' One stern look is all it takes for him to willingly get up from the couch, playfully swatting your head out of the way before running away once you try to kick his ass, running right after him while a small laugh escapes your lips. You crash on his back, purposely pushing him face-down in bed before smacking his ass, dragging a quiet, muffled laugh out of him.
You remove his muddy boots, helping him get out of his clothes until he's stripped down to his boxers, still laying face-down in bed, trusting you completely with his body. You get a bottle of massage oil from the closet, landing another playful slap on his rear before straddling him, sitting on his ass as you began spreading the oil all over his back. He let out a grunt at the spank, but didn't bother protesting, too distracted by the sensation of the cold oil being spread all over his tense muscles.
Your hands work wonders soon after, kneading and applying pressure on every single one of his muscles, slowly getting rid of the knots and tension in his body. He laid in bed with his head turned to the side, eyes closed as he relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of your hands working over his muscles, low moans leaving his lips sometimes at the pressure applied on his back muscles.
20 minutes is all it took to get rid of most of the knots on his back, planting a gentle kiss on the side of his head before giving him another one on the cheek, getting a grunt in response from the half-asleep man.
''I love you.'' You whisper in his ear, using the leftover oil on your hand to massage his bicep.
''I love you too, sweet girl.'' He manages to reply, voice groggy and deeper as he tried to stay awake to spend more time with you. A small giggle leaves your lips when you see his struggle, getting off of him and jokingly playing bongos on his ass, looking at the muscle and fat giggling underneath your touch.
''God, your ass is so perfect.'' Your tone is playful, but he's no stranger to you worshipping his body, a small smile on his lips at your words.
''S'all yours.'' He mumbles sweetly, voice still gravelly and coarse as he allowed you to do as you pleased with him. Another gently spank is delivered to his ass before you lean down, biting one of his asscheeks— not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to feel it. His muscles twitch from the sudden sensation before he relaxes, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he turns to look at you with a smug grin.
A/N: I don't wanna kms anymore so here's some tender Simon instead of angst
#cod mw2#cod mwii#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#husband!ghost#husband!simon ghost riley#mw2 ghost#ghost#ghost x f!reader#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x female reader#wife!reader#mw2 x reader#mw2 fanfic#mw2 2022#cod#cod modern warfare#mw2 smut#ghost call of duty#ghost fanfiction#ghost mw3#mw3
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How you get the girl
He knows how ironic this is. He is Sukuna, the guy who is known to always wear a smug smirk on his tattoed face and have a snide remark ready at all times. And yet, when you stand in front of him and confess your feelings to him, he is at a total loss for what to do.
Aka Sukuna is a lovesick mess who fucks things up on the first try because being open about his feelings is really not his strength but then makes up for it again.
Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, College AU Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: Light angst with a happy ending. Sukuna struggles with opening up about his feelings. Kissing. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.
"And that's why...I mean, what I want to say is, I love you, Sukuna."
You stand in front of him, wringing your hands nervously after saying all those sweet things about him that he never knew he was, and look up at him with a hopeful look in your pretty eyes. And Sukuna feels like he has been hit by a truck as he stares at you with wide maroon eyes and his heart hammering in his chest.
He knows how ironic this is. He is Sukuna, the star player of the basketball team, the popular asshole who gets invited to every party, the guy with the bad boy reputation, who is known to always wear a smug smirk on his tattoed face and have a snide remark ready at all times. And yet, when you stand in front of him and confess your feelings to him, he is at a total loss for what to do.
There are a lot of things going through his head. A lot of things he could confess to you. Like how much he likes spending time with you. Or that he thinks about your smile all day. Or that he likes how you laugh about his jokes and always play along when he says something teasing.
He knows he should be honest and tell you how weirdly full his chest feels when he holds you and that he likes it so much how you fit so perfectly into his arms and against his tall, muscular body. That it makes him want to protect you and care for you, just like the way you care for him so lovingly. He knows he could tell you that you are always his last thought before he falls asleep and the first one when he wakes up.
But he doesn't do any of that. He is frozen somehow. This big bad guy, who is always so loud and confident, is standing there staring at you with wide maroon eyes, nervously pushing his tongue piercing against the back of his incisors while he tries to think of what to say to you.
It's too much, too intense. He is good at flirting. He is good at kissing and fucking and sweet talk. But he isn't good at this!
Sukuna opens his mouth only to close it again, unable to put this overwhelming whirlwind of feelings into words. Or maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's not that he doesn't know what to say, but rather that everything he would say right now would feel too honest, too raw, and that is something that scares him. He has always been the rough one, the one who wears a mask of arrogance and indifference that lets him hide how he really feels.
Maybe that is why all he manages to say is,
"Thank you, princess."
He sees your face fall and hears a shaky breath escape your lips. You try to mask your disappointment, lips lifting in a forced smile as you back away from him with shiny eyes.
"You're welcome... I ... I will just go then. Bye, Sukuna."
He has never felt as helpless as when he stands there with his hands balled into fists as he watches you turn around and leave hastily.
He tries to pretend this moment never happened, tries to tell himself he did nothing wrong. It's fine. His reaction was a normal one. Things will be ok. You will come up to him tomorrow and roll your eyes and tease him about how he stood there like an idiot, and he will laugh and pull you against him and tell you that your beauty left him speechless and that, of course, he feels the same!
But that doesn't happen.
He doesn't see you anywhere in the next few days. There are no texts from you either. You're avoiding him, aren't you? Your friends send death glares his way when he passes them in the hallway.
He loses track of how often he pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans, just for his fingers to hover over your last message to him, unable to find the courage to type something.
The new episode of your favorite show airs tonight. He watches it. Of course, he does. He always does, even though he finds it boring and thinks the actors are super bad. But he watches it because you like it, and so he can talk to you about it. But tonight, you aren't in his bed to watch with him, and you aren't texting him about it either.
So Sukuna grabs his phone and finally texts you. He sends text message after text message all through the episode, commenting on the newest scandal and on the outfits of the main characters.
He doesn't get a reply.
On the fourth day, he sits in the living room with his brother, playing video games and losing round after round because his mind is too occupied with missing you and stressing about why he did what he did. And suddenly, he can't stop himself from throwing the controller on the floor and blurting out,
"I fucked up."
Yuuji looks at him with a questioning look,
"Do you mean in the game or something else? Are you in trouble?"
And Sukuna laughs gruffly and hides his face in his hands as he shakes his head. Luckily, his brother is persistent and doesn't leave him alone. The brat bugs him until Sukuna finally spills it out,
"She told me she loves me."
He doesn't even have to say your name. Yuuji knows. Of course, he does. He blinks at Sukuna in confusion.
"And what is the problem? That is amazing news!"
"I said thank you."
The seconds tick away, and Yuuji stares at him as if waiting for him to say more. Sukuna huffs and shakes his head before he adds,
"That's all. I thanked her... and then she left."
"What do you mean you thanked her, Kuna? What the fuck!? That isn't an acceptable way to reply to a love confession!"
"As if I don't know that! I... shit, I didn't know what to say! I was overwhelmed!"
He glares at his twin, desperation turning him into a hot, angry mess. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. He should grab his gym bag and go lift some weights and hit a punching bag until he is too exhausted to think!
But Yuuji's voice stops him.
"But.. but don't you like her? You looked so happy with her."
"Of course I do! I like her a lot."
He hates how soft his voice becomes when he says the last part. He hates how weak he feels when he feels his mask slip and knows he isn't able to hide the pain in his heart.
But luckily, this is Yuuji, his twin, the brat that has been practically attached to his hip ever since he was born three minutes after Sukuna. It's ok if he sees Sukuna like that. This is the little brother who loves Sukuna no matter what shitty situation he gets himself into. The brother who is so much better at being open about his feelings. The brother who isn't scared to tell him off when Sukuna does something stupid.
"When what are you still doing here, you idiot? Get the fuck up and go to her and talk to her! I will throw you out and lock the door! I am serious, Kuna! You only come back here after you made things ok again with your girl!"
It's ridiculous that he needs his younger brother to kick his ass and tell him what to do. It's absolutely pathetic that he jogs through the rain in the middle of the night to buy a huge bouquet of red roses and then bangs on your door with his pink hair dripping wet and his soaked-through white t-shirt sticking to his abs uncomfortably.
But maybe it's good to be pathetic sometimes because you don't slam the door into his face but look at him with a hopeful expression on your face and a soft,
"Hey, Sukuna."
He doesn't give a fuck anymore at that point. He doesn't care that he is standing in a small puddle of rainwater dripping down from his wet clothes. He doesn't care that his hand trembles when he pushes the roses into your arms. He doesn't care if the whole dorm hears him when he says,
"I am sorry! I was an idiot. You said all those sweet things to me, and in my head were so many things I wanted to tell you too, but I messed up."
He runs a large hand through his wet hair and slicks it back again, looking at you with eyes that glitter suspiciously, but he can blame it on the rain sticking to his long lashes,
"I like you too. Every minute with you was the best I ever had. I see your face in my mind all the time. Last week, I started laughing in the middle of the grocery store because I remembered something funny you said to me. I messed up my last exam because I was too distracted thinking about how your hand feels in my hair. I only feel ok when you are next to me because if you are not there, I feel like there is a crucial part of me missing. I know I suck at talking about my feelings, but that doesn't mean I don't have a hundred thousand of them when it comes to you, and all of them are fucking good and intense and drive me crazy and... I just.. fuck, I love you, princess. I love you, and I am so sorry!"
He feels out of breath, maybe from running through the rainy streets or maybe from letting out all of those words that make him feel so fucking vulnerable when being vulnerable was the one thing he always tried to avoid at all costs.
But there is this happy smile on your face. The smile he missed so damn much. And he knows it was worth it that he ran through the rain and spilled his heart out in the staircase of your dorm.
It was all worth it because you take a step towards him with happy tears in your eyes and a soft,
"Oh, Kuna."
And the next thing he knows is you are in his arms again, your warm body pressing tightly against his, not caring about his wet clothes. Your arms wrap around his neck, and your fingers play with the short hair of his undercut, making him let out a soft sigh. And you get on your tiptoes to kiss him right when he wraps his tattoed arms around your waist and pulls you even closer.
He can hear loud cheers and applause coming from somewhere in the staircase, but he really doesn't give a fuck anymore who heard his love confession. The whole world can know how he feels about you. He will shout it from the rooftop and punch everyone in the face who has a problem with it, if it means he can hold you again and kiss you and feel your smile against his lips.
I made myself cry thinking about this scene and then I HAD to write it aaaaah. I am so weak when Sukuna is a mess, it just makes me want to hug him and ruffle his hair and never let him go again. I am obsessed I think.
Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it and that you are weak for this mess of a boy too ;)
Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
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Puppy love
middle school kirishima x middle school popular! reader
Kirishima, a social outcast who barely anyone knows has a crush on a popular girl. He has barely any chance, right?
warning: a bit of angst mostly fluff also your supposed to be shorter then him in this
a/n I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE ADORABLE! I LOVE LOVE LOVE KIRISHIMA
Kirishima always admired you, always. Since he started middle school he would watch you from afar and just think about how pretty you were, how adorable you were. But as the months ticked on, you became popular and soon enough you were out of his reach.
kirishimas friends always laughed at him for liking you since you would never date him! Or… so they thought.
You whined and tried to drown out Mina's relentless teasing. "Really? Kirishima? The one with the hardening quirk? Awww, that's so cute!" she exclaimed, hopping around with excitement. Her voice echoed through the hallway, drawing unwanted attention. In a panic, you shot up from your seat and quickly covered her mouth, your eyes darting around to see if Kirishima was nearby. "Shut up!!!" you hissed, your face burning with embarrassment. You could feel Mina's laughter against your hand as she continued to giggle.
You blushed and covered your face, hiding the redness of your cheeks. Mina giggled again “hey! It’s no big deal! He’s tall! And he’s cute!” You pushed her chest “back up!” Your possessiveness over him came out. Mina laughed “your down bad!” She grabbed your shoulders and shook you with with excitement.
You and Mina walked down the halls, you could sense someone staring at you. You turned to see who it was, only to make awkward eye contact with eijiro kirishima! You both blushed and looked away, you could hear the deep laughter of kirishimas friends which made the embarrassment soo much worse. Mina smiled brightly and wrapped her arm around you “one day! He’ll ask you out! I know it!”
if only he’d ask you out…..
Mina stomped over, a grumpy look on her pink face. "Kirishima!" she yelled, trying to get the boy's attention. Kirishima turned to look at her, worry etched on his face. Was he in trouble? What had he done? What if she jumped him?
"I gotta ask you something," she said firmly.
"O-okay…?" he stuttered in response.
"Do you or do you not like name?" she demanded, grabbing his shoulders to prevent him from escaping the question.
"W-w-w-wha? N-no!" he stammered.
"Bullshit," came a voice from behind. Kirishima's friend stepped in. "He's in love with her. I'd say it's puppy love, but he literally adores her every body part. It's kinda creepy," his friend whispered the last part.
"Hey!" Kirishima yelped, his face turning crimson.
"Oh thank God!" Mina sighed in relief, her tense shoulders relaxing.
Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "Wha-?"
"Nothing!" Mina blurted, and with that, she turned and ran away.
Now kirishima had a reason to believe that you liked him back, his determination to win you over becoming stronger. One random Tuesday, a hand taps you on the shoulder. You turn to face whosever this was, only to come face to face with kirishima “oh.. hey!” You managed to get out from the initial shock “hey.. Uhm” he stuttered “do.. do you know who I am?” “Eijiro kirishima” you blurted out almost immediately “I mean.. your kirishima? Right?” You tried to fix yourself up, tucking a lock behind your ear. Kirishimas eyebrows raised from the fact you so easily knew his name, most people barely knew him and if they did they were his friends and he only had about 5 friends in the whole school. “Yeah.. I am” he smiled.. he smiled a genuine smile. Showing off his sharp teeth “woah.. your teeth are sharp!” You looked surprised and shuffled closer to him so you could get a good look at his teeth. Kirishimas face turned pink “h-h-h-hey b-bit close there..” he didn’t try to back away however.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" you said, backing away. In the distance, you could see Mina grinning from ear to ear. You then looked back at Kirishima. "So… what can I help you with?" you asked, smiling sweetly and trying to act natural.
"U-uh, t-this… flower… it made me think of you," he stammered, quickly handing you a pink tulip that he had clearly found in the school garden.
"Oh, Kirishima, thank you!" you said, genuinely moved by his gift.
"N-no problem…" he mumbled, standing there awkwardly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Kirishima inhaled deeply, trying to settle his nerves. When he exhaled, he looked down at you and blurted out, "Gee… you're a bit short." His cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.
"Hey! That's not fair—you’re just tall!" you whined, crossing your arms in mock anger.
Mina seemed more than pleased with what was unfolding before her eyes. "I-I’m sorry! I-it’s just you are small! It's not a big deal!" Kirishima stammered, trying to comfort you after inadvertently insulting you.
You turned around, facing away from him, pouting in exaggerated anger. Kirishima sighed and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry…"
Your face flushed pink again as you turned to face him. "It's fine… just… don't do it again!" you whined, unable to stay mad at him.
Kirishima chuckled and nodded. "Okay, I won't. Promise."
You blushed again, feeling the warmth of his presence. He seemed so sincere, so kind, and his touch was so warm that it made your heart race.
suddenly the bell interrupted your interaction. You sighed in disappointment “well.. see you later?” Yiu looked up at him hopefully, he blushed and his face lit up “yeah.. see ya”
over the next few days you and kirishima spent more and more time together, often finding ways to run off from your friends and hang out.
One day, you waited for all your friends to run off and do other stuff just so you could sneak away and run in the direction were you and kirishima normally met up. You had gotten his message to signify that he was there so you knew where he was. You giggled and jumped onto the boys back, he yelped in surprise “hey *name*!” he said with a chuckle, patting your thigh as he bent his knees you help you slide down “let’s go to the cafeteria! They have pizza today and I REALLY WANT SOMEE” you insisted “I dunno… maybe I just wanna chill” he mumbled, tilting his head for you to follow him.
you two began walking through the court yard, talking and joking around. He seemed happier but more nervous than usual. The occasional stutter turning into a more frequent stammer. You just thought it was all the hormones of being 14, suddenly when kirishima brought you to a more… private place. He sighed “*name* I need to ask you something” he said with a determined look on his face “yeah? What’s up?” You asked, tilting your head to the side
“will you… will you be my girlfriend?!” He blurted out loudly, his fists curling up in nervousness. Your whole face turned pink “r-really? Yeah! Yeah I will!” You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, he blushed and sighed in relief. Kirishima placed his hands around your waist, you two hugging each other.
“AWWW GUYS!” Mina squealed, turns out she had followed you “SHUT UP.” You two screamed and you hid your face in his chest.
a year later
Now a days things are a little less awkward, you even got to share a dorm after convincing aizawa to let you guys. You rolled over in bed and buried your face in the crook of kirishimas neck “hey Bub” he said as he grabbed your thigh and brought it up to his hip. “Comfy?” He murmured and kissed your forehead, his warm lips pressed against your skin “mhm.. yeah..” you ran your fingers through his freshly re dyed red hair.
“I love you”
“I love you too kiri”
#bnha eijiro kirishima#eijiro kirishima#eijiro x reader#eijiro x katsuki#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima x you#lisa frankenstein fanfic#kirishima x reader#mha#bnha#kirishima fanfic#eijiro kirishima x reader#Kirishima one shot#Eijiro kirishima fluff#bakusquad#mina ashido#kirishima x reader fluff#ua high school#mha fanfic#bnha fanfic#bnha kirishima#mha kirishima#mha x reader#my hero academia fanfiction#fanfiction#fluff#fanfic#bnha fluff#kirishima eijirou#hes so manly guys
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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (04)
MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 6.4k
Aliyah's Notes: i'll say it again, but specifically this chapter depicts heavy body image and ed descriptions + vomit so i beg of you to skip the beginning if you're uncomfortable with that. besides that, the chapter is cute and full of rafe and reader moments
No, no, no, no, no…
The air in the cramped bathroom felt stifling, its walls pressing close as if they could hear every breath slipping through your lips. Your phone screen glared up at you, the message burning into your mind, twisting your insides. It felt like a rope tightening around your chest, the words somehow dragging you thousands of miles back to a place you fought so hard to escape.
It was just a text. Just words. But your body reacted as if you’ve been thrown into an ice-cold river, your mind spiraling as your heartbeat thumped in your ears, louder and louder, drowning out all your sense of reason. You weren’t supposed to feel this way—not here, not anymore. You fought too hard to let a few words send you back to that place.
The text was simple, it read: "Hey, do you remember me? Just to let you know we're coming to the U.S. in a few weeks."
Your fingers, knuckles white, tightened around the phone as you tried to calm yourself. You had come so far, broken so many boundaries to make it, to have a life that was your own, that you chose. And now? Now your world felt as fragile as glass, your strength chipped away by something as simple as a message.
For years, you pushed that life aside, buried it beneath layers of success and glossy magazine covers, of flashing cameras and compliments that felt like armor. You learned to smile, to keep your chin up, to say what people wanted to hear. Y/N Y/L/N, the golden girl, they’d call you, the one with the perfect life, the charmed career. They didn’t see the cracks beneath, the memories you pushed so far down you could almost believe they’d never existed.
You missed them, sometimes. In quiet moments, when you let yourself think of them, you felt the familiar pang of loss. But you missed them on your own terms, and never to this point—never to the point of feeling that old, oppressive weight. The suffocating sense of having your every move watched, every thought scrutinized and molded into someone else’s idea of perfection. You’d broken free of those chains. Or at least you thought you had.
Your breath hitched as a tear slipped down your cheek, cold against your heated skin. You quickly wiped it away, but another followed, then another, until you were gripping the edge of the sink, trying desperately to hold yourself together. “You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely a breath. “You’re fine. Suck it up, come on.”
The words felt hollow, but you forced yourself to repeat them, steadying your breathing as you stared at your reflection. The woman looking back at you wasn’t the helpless girl from your past; she was someone stronger, someone who’d fought for every inch of her success. But as you brushed away the tears, you wondered just how deep those old wounds ran.
Another shaky breath, another splash of cold water. You didn’t have time for this. Not here, not today. There was a shoot waiting, people depending on you to be the flawless professional you always were. You could fall apart later. That would have to be enough.
Drawing yourself up, you checked your reflection one last time, wiping away any trace of emotion from your face. Your fingers still trembled, but you forced them to steady, exhaling one last time before stepping out of the bathroom, your shoulders set with the poise you spent years perfecting.
As you walked back into the studio, the lights blinded you momentarily, the heat from the set lights prickling against your skin. The room buzzed with activity—assistants darting back and forth, stylists fussing over racks of clothing, and the low hum of the photographer’s voice directing the scene. You slipped back into your role, letting the familiar rhythm carry your as you took your place on set.
“Finally,” the photographer muttered, barely looking up from his camera. “We’re on a schedule, Y/N. I don’t have time for dramatics.” His voice was cold, clipped, as though your presence was nothing more than an inconvenience.
You clenched your jaw, brushing off the comment. Just keep your head down, and keep moving. You struck your first pose, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm of the camera’s clicks. Each flash, each snap, pulled you farther away from your thoughts, grounding you in the present. You knew this world, knew how to inhabit the perfect persona they wanted from you. You could do this.
“Okay, chin down,” the photographer barked, barely glancing up from his lens. “More. More—there, but tighten up your core, Y/N. It’s looking a little… fat.”
The comment hit you like a slap, the faint tremble returning to your hands. You adjusted your pose, forcing yourself to stay calm. You've heard comments like this before. Your body was scrutinized in ways most people couldn’t understand, your curves debated and dissected like they belonged to someone else. You have been trained to brush it off, to smile and push through it with the poise they expected of you.
But today, after everything, the words dug a little deeper.
The photographer snapped another shot, then lowered his camera, looking you up and down with a critical eye. “You’re slipping, Y/N. You used to be skinnier. Are you having those episodes again?” He cocked an eyebrow, his tone dripping with condescension. “If you’re going to stay at the top, you have to stop whatever it is you’re doing that’s triggering you. That means discipline, diet, focus. Do you have that? Or am I wasting my time here?”
You bit down on the inside of your cheek, the words stinging sharper than you wanted to admit. You knew you gained a little weight—nothing drastic, nothing worth commenting on, but in your world, even a fraction of a change was enough to invite scrutiny. You forced yourself to hold your pose, to keep the practiced smile on your face, even as your heart pounded in your chest.
“No,” you said quietly, your voice steady but clipped. “You’re not wasting your time—I understand. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to his camera. “Because the camera doesn’t lie, Y/N. Either shape up, or Chanel will find someone who will.”
The ride home was a blur, the city lights streaking past the window as you sat, rigid, in the back seat of the car. Your stomach twisted painfully, a churning knot of anger, shame, and something that felt dangerously close to despair. Each time you closed your eyes, the photographer’s words replayed like a cruel loop in your mind, mocking you, unraveling every shred of confidence you’d managed to build. You’re slipping… used to be skinner…discipline, diet, focus. His voice echoed with the ghost of memories you’d focus so hard to bury.
You barely noticed when the car finally stopped. As soon as you stepped out, the familiar ache in your chest intensified, the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating. You fumbled with your keys, barely able to keep your hands steady long enough to unlock the door. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, not even caring where they landed, and stumbled over to the couch. Every nerve in your body screamed, the urge clawing at you with a ferocity that was both frightening and familiar.
You sat there, breathing heavily, your fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you fought to steady yourself. But the memories kept coming, one after another, tearing at you until it felt like you were drowning in them. You saw yourself, younger, lost, staring into the mirror late at night, desperate to feel in control of something—anything. The hunger, the self-loathing, the endless cycle of guilt and relief—it all rushed back with a force that stole the breath from your lungs.
It would be so easy to give in, a voice whispered in the back of your mind. Just this once. Just for tonight. You could have the relief you craved, the escape from the pressure that felt like it was suffocating you from the inside out.
No, you told yourself, clenching your fists. You’re stronger than this.
But the temptation was too strong, too insistent, and before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself in the kitchen, stuffing your face with whatever you could find. You just needed to eat, eat, eat, and eat more. You blinked and found yourself in the bathroom, hands braced against the sink as you stared into the mirror, a tear-streaked, desperate face staring back at you. Your chest tightened as the shame washed over you, the familiar ache settling deep in your bones, dragging you down into the darkness you’d spent years trying to escape.
Your fingers brushed your throat, trembling as you fought against the impulse. You didn’t want this, not really. You knew the pain that would follow, the emptiness that would settle in your chest like a lead weight, crushing you from the inside out. But the need for control, the need for release, was stronger than you were.
As if in a trance, you gave in, the guilt and shame numbing your mind as you went through the motions, each step mechanical, devoid of thought. The feeling of release came in a rush, bringing a momentary sense of relief that quickly dissolved into nausea and self-loathing. You sank to the floor, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling as the full weight of what you’d done settled over you.
The bathroom floor was cold against your skin, grounding you in the present even as your mind spiraled, tangled in a haze of guilt and despair. You pressed your forehead to your knees, the tears coming fast and hot, unstoppable. Your chest heaved with silent sobs, each one cutting deeper than the last as you choked on the bitter taste of regret. The walls seemed to close in around you, trapping you in a prison of your own making, a prison you’d vowed to escape but somehow couldn’t.
You thought you were done with this, that you’d left this part of yourself behind. But here you were, broken and hollow, the fragile pieces of your self-control shattered beyond repair. You wanted to scream, to tear at your own skin, to do anything that would make the pain stop, even for just a moment.
“Why am I like this?” you whispered, the words barely audible through your tears.
When the tears finally slowed, you felt hollow, emptied, the relief you’d hoped for replaced by a numbness that was somehow worse. You pulled yourself up, the motion slow and heavy, as though your limbs were weighed down by the shame you carried. You splashed water on your face, watching as the streaks of mascara and foundation washed away, leaving you bare and exposed, a shadow of the person you pretended to be.
Stumbling back into the living room, you sank onto the couch, the silence of the apartment pressing in around you, thick and suffocating. Your stomach ached, a dull throb that echoed the ache in your chest, a reminder of everything you’d tried to forget. You leaned back, closing your eyes, your fingers still trembling.
The silence was shattered by the faint buzz of your phone, the sound jarring in the quiet. You opened your eyes, feeling a fresh wave of dread as you reached for it, already bracing yourself for more bad news. The screen showed a message from Rafe, sent twenty minutes ago.
Rafe: “Hey. On my way over. Be ready. We’re going out.”
Your heart skipped a beat, panic flaring in your chest as you processed the words. Rafe was coming here. He’d be here any minute, expecting you to be ready, expecting you to be fine. But you were anything but fine. The thought of facing him, of pretending everything was normal, felt like an impossible task.
You wanted to ignore it, to curl up on the couch and let the world fade away. But you knew you couldn’t. He’d see through you, he’d ask questions, and you weren’t ready for that. You weren’t ready for him to see the broken pieces.
Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping the last traces of tears from your face. You couldn’t fall apart now. You’d have to pull yourself together, put on the mask he expected to see.
But as you stared at the screen, the weight of what you’d done settled over you, a cold, crushing ache that threatened to drown you all over again.
A sharp knock broke the silence, the sound slicing through the thick air of your apartment. You jolted, your heart racing as you looked toward the door.
Fuck! You hadn’t even had time to fully compose yourself.
Another knock, lighten this time, followed by his familiar voice. “Come on, open up, sweetheart,” Rafe called out, his tone easy, teasing. He was here. Of course he was here.
Forcing a deep breath, you pushed yourself up from the couch, running your hands through your hair in a last-minute attempt to look put-together. You brushed a hand over your face, trying to erase any trace of what had happened, then ran to close the door of your kitchen to hide the mess of food sprawled everywhere.
The moment you opened the door, Rafe’s eyes locked onto yours, his playful smile faltering as he took you in. The lightness in his gaze shifted, softening with a concern that made your chest tighten. You could feel his eyes sweeping over your face, catching the lingering redness around your eyes, the slight shake in your hands and naked legs, the way you wouldn’t quite meet this gaze.
“You…” he said, stepping forward as his brow furrowed. “You okay?”
You forced a smile, dismissive, brushing it off as though he hadn’t seen what he had. “I’m fine, Cameron. Just a long day, you know,” you replied, your voice steady but rough, your fingers clutching the edge of the door.
He didn’t move, his gaze unwavering as he studied you, his expression laced with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice careful now. “You don’t look fine. Your eyes…”
“I said I’m fine, Rafe!” you snapped, the words sharper than you’d intended, the force of them surprising you both. His brows shot up slightly, but he didn’t move, his gaze locked on yours as though he were searching for something beneath the anger.
“I’m just asking, but something’s obviously wrong. You don’t have to—”
“Why do you care?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a defensiveness you couldn’t control. “It’s none of your business, alright,” Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them back, pressing down the wave of emotion threatening to rise again. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”
The silence stretched between you, tense, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. You could see the hurt flash across his face, fleeting but unmistakable, before it softened into something closer to understanding, something that only made you feel more exposed.
“Alright,” he murmured, his tone calm, measured. He took a step back, lifting his hands slightly in surrender, his gaze lingering on you, patient, waiting. “If you say so.”
But you could see it in his eyes—he didn’t believe you, not for a second.
You stepped back, allowing him to come inside. He moved past you slowly, his gaze flicking back to you once before staying put. You headed toward the living room, and he followed you, swallowing the lingering shame in your throat as you focused on steadying your breath.
He paused near the couch, glancing around the room as though searching for a sign of what had shaken you.
“Alright, so… where exactly are we going?” you asked, aiming to keep your tone casual. Your gaze dropped to your hands, hoping to mask the slight tremor of your nerves.
Rafe glanced over, he seemed to take a moment to consider his answer, studying you as though choosing his words carefully. “One of my friends is hosting a little get-together…”
“Topper?”
“Hell nah!” He quietly laughed, shaking his head. “Not this time. It’s Kelce. He throws these gatherings sometimes—more chill than anything else. It’s just a handful of people, around a dozen or so, max. You think you’ll be okay with that?”
His gaze lingered on you, a mix of playfulness and genuine concern softening his features. You swallowed, nodding as you offered a small shrug. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. So… just friends? Are there going to be, um… other girls?”
He tilted his head. “Yeah, some. Kiara and Cleo are usually around for these things, and…” he paused, scratching his jaw before continuing, “my sister.”
That made you look up, your curiosity piqued. “You have a sister?”
“Two actually, both younger,” he replied with a faint smile. “But only one’s coming tonight. Sarah. I think she’s around your age. You’ll probably like her. She’s… got a bit of a wild streak.”
You nodded and stayed quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before glancing back at Rafe. “So… I’ll just go get ready—wait! How should I dress up? Is it a casual-casual or a casual-but-nicely-dressed type of gathering?”
Rafe’s lips quirked into a smile, visibly relieved to see you bouncing back to your usual self. “Pretty sure, whatever you wear, you’ll make it look elegant, sweetheart.”
“That’s not helpful—but thanks.” You arched a brow at him, waiting.
"Just something simple," he replied with a shrug, leaning back on the couch. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your outfit—a pair of black shorts paired with an oversized, ripped T-shirt splashed with images of Barbie. Somehow, even in that, you looked hot, and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger.
“Simple?” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Like…a dress? Wait, maybe a skirt is better for this. But a dress is more of a party vibe…” you started muttering to yourself, lost in wardrobe decisions. “Should I wear something with prints? Oh, wait—”
“Just wear a skirt, baby,” he cut in smoothly, his gaze softening as he watched you.
That one little word—baby—made your heart flutter and stopped your train of thought cold. You caught his eyes, trying to ignore the sudden swarm of butterflies, and arched a brow at him with a teasing smirk. “Oh, I see what this is. You just want an excuse to look at my ass. Bet you’re hoping for a little peek under my skirt, huh, you perv?”
Rafe’s smirk grew, and he sat up, his blue eyes gleaming with something undeniably mischievous. “I’ll see your ass at some point during this marriage, whether it’s tonight or some other night,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Got you speechless now, huh?”
You rolled your eyes, pretending his words hadn’t just lit a spark that was still buzzing beneath your skin. “No, actually, I was just thinking of all the ways I could strangle you.”
“Kinky,” he teased, eyes alight with amusement.
You groaned, chuckling despite yourself. “Not like that, you perv.” You waved your hand dismissively, shaking your head. “Enough of this. I’m gonna go get ready.”
Before you turned, he grinned and made a move to get up. “Can I come and watch the show?”
You placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down with a laugh. “Absolutely not. Stay here and be patient. I won’t be long.”
Rafe relaxed, settling back with a smirk as he watched you disappear into your bedroom, and you made sure to close the door firmly behind you.
You emerge from the bedroom an hour later, dressed in a strapless leopard-print tube top that clings to your figure just right, paired with a faded denim mini-skirt. For makeup, you opted for a natural look with a subtle glow, focusing on your lips, and you left your curls loose, letting them fall naturally over your shoulders, once again.
You walked into the hallway, slipping on your black Louboutin stilettos. As you straightened, you didn’t need to look back to know Rafe was right there, his presence a steady hum in the quiet of your apartment. You’d heard his soft footsteps the second you stepped into the hallway.
"You—"
"Watch what you’re about to say, Cameron," you cut him off, throwing a teasing glance over your shoulder, "because if it’s about my ass, I’ll slap you so hard you’ll fly out the window."
His smirk widened. "Now, I wasn’t gonna say anything like that," He let his gaze travel up and down your figure, lingering on the way your fitted mini skirt hugged your curves. "But since you brought it up—yeah, it’s the perfect opportunity to take a peek. Especially with you bent over and all."
You straightened up, narrowing your eyes at him, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. "Rafe."
He raised his hands, palms out. "Alright, alright—my bad." He let his eyes travel over you one more time, this time slower, more appreciative. "But you look nice."
"Just nice?" you teased, tilting your head slightly as you stepped closer, noting the way his eyes darkened as he drank you in.
"No..." His voice dropped, his eyes turning hungry as they lingered on you. "You look hot. Really hot."
You felt a satisfied smile spread across your face. "Perfect. That’s exactly what I was going for."
"Well, you succeeded, sweetheart," he replied, voice thick with an admiration that felt too close for comfort.
You smiled, pushing down the heat rising to your cheeks, and made your way to the door, pulling it open. Rafe followed close behind, stepping into the hallway as you both moved toward the elevator.
"So," you asked as you pressed the elevator button, "do your friends know about the arrangement, or…?"
Rafe shook his head, popping the 'P' as he answered, "Nope. None of them have a clue. Not my teammates, not my sister—nobody. So you’re gonna have to pretend to tolerate me for a few hours. Think you can handle that?"
You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. "Tolerate you? For a few hours? I mean, it’s gonna be a challenge, but I think I can manage.”
“Is that so? Gonna be that hard to put up with me?”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything, in fear to hurt your poor feelings but you are extremely annoying and hard to put up with, Rafe Cameron,” you shot back, your eyes sparkling.
“Ouch,” he touched his heart and mocked a pained expression. “You’re hurting your husband’s feelings here, sweetheart.”
“Future husband,” you corrected with a smirk. “And, womp womp!”
The elevator reached the lobby, and the two of you stepped out, making your way toward the exit. Rafe opened the door for you, his hand resting briefly on the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine.
Outside, his car was waiting, sleek and polished under the streetlights. He held the passenger door open, and you slipped inside, watching as he rounded the front and got in beside you.
The car ride was quieter than you expected. He seemed content, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. You stole a few glances at him as he drove, catching the glint in his eye as he noticed you looking.
Finally, he spoke up. "You know, if you’re gonna be my girlfriend for the night, you’ll have to act the part."
"What do you mean?"
He smirked, shifting gears smoothly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Maybe try not to glare at me every time I look at you. Oh, and try smiling, or I don’t know, pretend like you don’t find me annoying.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. "Noted. You have some more notes, Mr. Cameron?"
“I do, actually, future Ms. Cameron,” he said, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “As my girlfriend, you should probably let me put my arm around, or even hold my hand if we’re getting really freaky.”
You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Oh, yeah ‘cause touching your hand will make me nut, right?”
He chuckled, glancing over you, his expression full of amusement. “I mean, that’s usually how most people feel—but more seriously, we need to make this believable. The whole world has to think we’re in love.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "And here I thought this was a marriage of convenience. You know, strictly business. But since we’re giving notes then I think you should show a little more enthusiasm."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he navigated the streets. "Alright, I can do enthusiasm. How about I serenade you while I drive?"
"Oh my God! Please don’t," you laughed, shaking your head. "I’d like to keep my hearing intact."
"Suit yourself." Rafe grinned, glancing at you with a mock-seriousness. "But if I can’t sing, then I have to hold your hand. That’s the rule."
You hesitated, your heart racing at the idea of intertwining his fingers with yours. “Fine…”
He raised his hand triumphantly, a playful smirk plastered across his face. "See? You’re already getting into the spirit of things. Besides, it’s not like our lips haven’t touched—"
“Rafe!” you exclaimed, slapping his chest with a mix of disbelief and embarrassment.
“What? I’m just stating the truth,” he said, feigning innocence as he rubbed his chest, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “Come on, don’t get shy on me now, baby.”
“I am not shy,” you retorted, unable to suppress a smile.
“Right, and I’m the bloody king of England,” he shot back with a horrible fake British accent.
“Shut up,” you laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the car as you shook your head at his antics.
The banter hung in the air between you like a playful thread. You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional rush of wind outside the car providing a soothing backdrop. As the minutes passed, anticipation buzzed in the air, making each second feel charged with excitement.
Finally, you pulled up in front of a large, ornate gate guarded by stern-looking security personnel. Rafe, unable to contain himself, leaned forward and called out his name with exaggerated bravado, “Rafe Cameron!” The gates swung open, revealing a huge house with lights everywhere.
As he parked the car, you took a moment to steady your breathing, inhaling deeply to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach. With a final exhale, you opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. Before you stood three familiar faces, their expressions a mix of anticipation and curiosity as they waited at the door of the house.
You glanced at Rafe, who had just stepped out to join you, his presence exuding a quiet confidence that somehow eased your tension. The way he stood beside you, relaxed yet alert, made you feel a little more at ease.
“Am I dreaming, or are there three people waiting for us—and they’re jumping?” you asked, barely able to contain your laughter as you watched the trio bouncing in place, their enthusiasm infectious.
Rafe chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re not dreaming. The idiots over there are my sister, JJ, and Topper.”
“Oh, I know Topper!” you exclaimed, a spark of excitement igniting in your voice. The prospect of recognizing someone made the moment feel a bit more comfortable.
“Yeah, you do, sweetheart,” Rafe replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes glinted with warmth.
As you approached the animated group, the sounds of their laughter filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere that made your heart race with anticipation. Rafe walked beside you.
Topper was the first to spot you, his face lighting up with a broad grin as he waved. “Love birds! Over here!” he shouted, bouncing on his feet, you could tell he was slightly tipsy already.
JJ turned at the sound of his voice, his expression shifting from casual to surprise when he caught sight of you two. “What the fuck? Rafe is here with a girl—isn’t that—”
“That’s Y/N! What the actual fuck, Rafe?” Sarah exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief as she slapped JJ’s chest, the surprise evident in her wide eyes.
As you stepped into view, the weight of their stares sent a wave of nerves crashing over you, and suddenly, the words you’d rehearsed vanished from your mind. It was ridiculous—usually, you were the life of the party, friendly and extroverted. Why were you feeling so overwhelmed now?
“Hi,” you managed to say, cringing at the awkwardness of it. A rush of heat crept up your neck as you mentally kicked yourself for being so inarticulate.
“Hi, pretty girl,” JJ chimed, his grin infectious. “Now that Y/N and her boyfriend have arrived, the party can officially start!” He turned and bolted into the house with an enthusiastic shout, followed closely by Topper, leaving you alone with the Cameron siblings.
Turning your attention back to Sarah, you took a moment to admire her outfit—a stunning black leather dress that hugged her curves perfectly, her makeup expertly applied to accentuate her striking features. She radiated confidence.
“I’ve seen stuff about you two on social media, but I didn’t expect you to actually bring her here—respectfully, of course,” Sarah said, her gaze flicking to you as she finished her sentence and you simply shrugged. “This is a first for you, Rafe,” she continued, raising an eyebrow at her brother.
“I’m serious about her, so get ready to see her everywhere by my side,” Rafe replied casually, but the warmth of his words sent your cheeks aflame. “Are you the only girl here—”
“I love your dress, by the way. I don’t know if I said that already ‘cause I’m pretty tipsy, but I love it. Leopard prints suit you so well! Every time you wear animal prints on the runway, I’m always so in love with how it fits you. Oh, and I heard you’re working with Chanel right now—is that true? You can tell me; I promise I won’t spill. Plus, I’ll probably forget about it by tomorrow anyway—”
Rafe, clearly exasperated, swiftly placed a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say weird shit like that, stalker. You’re creeping my girlfriend out.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, placing a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “No, it’s fine.”
“You sure? Because she really sounded like a fucking creep,” he said, feigning seriousness, but you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Guess that runs in the family,” you teased, lifting yourself on your tiptoes to lean closer and whisper in Rafe’s ear, the warmth of his body radiating against you. “But thank you, Sarah. I was going to say the same about you and your dress. It fits your body like crazy; I’m honestly jealous.”
“Girl, please. Have you seen yourself?” she scoffed, her confidence shining through.
“I have, but have you seen yourself? You’re stunning, like a goddess.”
“Oh my God—”
“Alright, enough with the glazing,” Rafe interrupted, a mock-seriousness creeping into his tone. Sarah shot him an annoyed glare, which you mirrored, both of you momentarily united in your frustration. “I introduced her to you, but there are other people who don’t know she’s here, so get out of the way, Sarah.”
With that, he gently nudged her aside, his protective demeanor hinting at how much he cared, even amidst the playful banter. You couldn’t help but smile at the way he navigated the room with ease, leading you into the chaos of the party.
The room was awash in vibrant colors, illuminated by twinkling lights strung overhead. A long table was set up against one wall, laden with an enticing spread of snacks and alcoholic drinks that sparkled enticingly under the glow. The atmosphere buzzed with energy; laughter and music melded together in a lively symphony. Groups of people swayed on the dance floor, while others engaged in animated conversations or indulged in the delicious food. Rafe was right—though the crowd wasn’t particularly large, the energy was palpable, and the music was loud enough to make your heart race.
You gently tapped Rafe’s arm to get his attention, and he leaned down slightly to hear you over the din. “We’re not gonna go to each person to introduce myself, are we?”
“Hell no! Just my close friends—” he started, but his words were cut off as someone unexpectedly leapt into his arms, wrapping their limbs around his neck with abandon. Rafe staggered slightly, instinctively holding the person tight to steady them both. Your brows knitted together in confusion and irritation as you wondered who would be so brazen as to interrupt a conversation. The person had clearly come from the front, meaning they’d seen you two talking moments before.
Fucking prick, you cursed internally at the bold interloper.
When the person turned around, you found yourself face-to-face with a woman who had long, straight brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her cheerful smile faltered briefly upon noticing you, but it returned almost instantly, though you could sense the shift in her demeanor.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry for coming in like that,” she shouted over the thumping bass, her voice bright and exuberant. “I was just so excited to see Rafey. I couldn’t contain my joy.”
You waved your hands dismissively, plastering on a friendly smile, trying to keep the peace. “It’s totally fine, don’t worry. I get it.”
“I’m Chiara, by the way. Chiara Romano,” she introduced herself, extending a hand for you to shake. You accepted, noting the warmth of her grip.
“That’s a pretty name,” you said sincerely, your tone genuine. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”
“The supermodel who fled from her country, right?” Chiara asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
You scratched your cheek, a touch of embarrassment creeping in. “Well, not exactly, but yeah… that’s me.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said with a bright smile before turning her attention back to Rafe, suddenly snatching his arm and tugging at him playfully. “Come with me, Rafey.”
Rafe, who had been uncharacteristically silent during the exchange, finally spoke, his tone firm. “Wait! No, Chiara.”
“Why? It’s gonna be fun—” she retorted, but Rafe’s tone shifted to a more serious note.
“I’m here with Y/N,” he said firmly, the protectiveness in his voice undeniable. Chiara halted her playful tugging, her expression shifting as she turned her full attention to you. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Oh…” she said, her brows raised in surprise as she studied you intently. “Are you two serious, or not?”
You frowned, taken aback by the bluntness of her question. You knew Rafe had a reputation for jumping from one woman to the next, but he had just referred to you as his girlfriend with such conviction. That had to mean something, right? You couldn’t help but wonder what Chiara would have done if you had said no.
“We’re se—” you started, but your voice faltered.
“I want him to say it,” Chiara interrupted, a challenging glint in her eye as she turned to Rafe. “Say that you two are serious, Rafe.”
The air grew thick with anticipation as you awaited his response. The weight of the moment felt significant; this wasn’t just a casual interaction—it was a test of the fragile foundation of your arrangement. Rafe’s eyes darted between you and Chiara, a mix of uncertainty and determination swirling in them. You held your breath, knowing that you needed him to affirm the seriousness of your relationship, even if it was just for show. Rafe couldn’t afford to slip up, not when so much was at stake. You watched him struggle with the words, a silent plea hanging in the air as he held Chiara’s gaze, and you braced yourself for what would come next.
Who the fuck was Chiara Romano to Rafe Cameron?
chapter five
#the contracted heart#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#obx#outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#aliyahs works#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe obx#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron prompt#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe x you#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#aliyahs misc#rafe cameron x you#outer banks x reader#obx x reader#obx smut
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i know who you are | 1. the beginning
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.
Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia
WC: 7.6K
A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.
Series Masterlist
Pain.
That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.
Then you smelled it.
The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.
You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.
You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?
Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.
You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.
The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.
Maybe you were dying.
Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.
"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.
"Jesse! Get her water!"
You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.
"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.
"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.
Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.
Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.
"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?
"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.
Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.
"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"
The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.
"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.
"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.
"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."
"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!
"First day of what?"
"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.
"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.
"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.
"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.
"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.
Then you saw the bodies.
Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.
"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.
"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.
"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.
"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."
"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."
"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.
"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.
You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.
So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.
"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.
You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.
"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.
"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?
"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.
"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.
"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"
"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."
"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.
You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.
"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.
"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.
You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.
At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.
This didn't seem right.
"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.
"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.
"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.
"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.
"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.
"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."
"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.
"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.
"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.
"Are we... together?" you asked him.
Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.
"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."
You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.
Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.
Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.
After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.
"Cordy- what?"
"Cordyceps," he repeated.
"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.
"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.
"How much is 'some'?"
"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.
"Ten years?!"
He nodded.
"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"
"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."
Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.
"That's the last day you remember?"
"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.
"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.
Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.
"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.
You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.
Ten years.
Ten whole years, just... gone.
What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?
The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.
You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.
The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.
He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.
His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.
Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.
Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.
"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.
"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.
"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.
Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.
"It's too soon to say-"
"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.
"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.
"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.
"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.
You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.
"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.
His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.
"Don't come near me."
He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?
"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.
"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.
"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.
"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"
"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.
The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.
"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.
You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.
"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"
Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.
"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.
"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.
"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"
Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.
"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.
"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"
"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.
"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.
"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.
"I don't want to go home with him."
Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.
"It's your home, too," he said.
"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"
Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.
"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."
You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.
"How long have I known him?" you asked.
"Five years."
You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.
"And how long have you known him?"
"All my life."
Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.
"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.
"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.
"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.
To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.
You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.
His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.
You still weren't sure who he was.
You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.
You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.
Well, second first impression.
Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.
"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.
The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.
"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.
The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.
You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.
"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.
"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.
"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.
"Yeah, I reckon it is."
Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.
"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.
"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.
"Sorry," you whispered.
"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"
You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.
"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.
"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.
"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"
"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.
You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.
"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.
Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.
The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.
Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?
But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.
You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.
"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"
Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.
"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.
"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.
"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.
"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.
"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.
"Ellie?"
He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.
"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.
"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.
"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.
"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.
"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"
"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."
"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.
"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"
"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.
"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.
"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.
"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.
"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.
"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.
"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.
"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."
"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.
"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."
"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.
"You don't live here?" you asked her.
"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.
"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.
"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"
"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.
"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.
It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.
"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.
You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.
"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.
"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.
"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."
You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.
"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"
"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."
You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.
"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.
"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.
Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.
"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.
"I kept a journal?"
"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.
You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.
"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"
Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.
"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."
He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.
"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"
"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.
"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."
"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.
"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"
"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.
"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."
"And there's no cure?"
Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.
"No, there's no cure," he finally said.
You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.
"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.
"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.
"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.
"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."
Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.
"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.
Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.
"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.
"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."
Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.
"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."
"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.
"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.
"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.
"You sound pretty confident," you replied.
"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."
Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.
"Okay."
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#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfic#protective joel#joel miller x you#joel tlou#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#Pedro pascal#tlou#tlou hbo#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#ikwya fic
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A New Place | part three
Azriel x Archeron!Reader
Summary: The Inner Circles dinner turned out far different than anyone could have anticipated.
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: Angst
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The Tavern is in chaos. All of your coworkers, spring from one side of the building to the next. Cleaning things that you didn’t even think needed cleaning. Moving chairs and tables this way and that.
Yet you don’t have a clue what it’s all for. Well, it’s because ‘someone important’ is coming in, as Benny had said two days ago. You just didn’t know who, you were being kept out of the loop, as per usual. Shoulders slump at that realisation. Sliding into one of the stools at the bar, chin resting on your hand, silently watching them fuss and argue about minuscule things.
Odessa’s black hair swished as she barked orders at Oberon and Tarian. The two of them grumble but follow her lead nonetheless. The absolute worst part was the fact that Dominic’s hulking form was nowhere to be seen. He never misses a shift and does not show up late. Made even worse because it’s already dark out. Shifting your gaze to the clock, and see it’s already 8:00. His and Benny’s absence was starting to stress you out.
A damp cloth gets thrown onto the counter in front of you, startling you from your thoughts. Swiping a hand down your face to remove any droplets that splashed onto you. You scowl up at the culprit, finding Adem grimacing. “Sorry.” Quiet and breathy as if he was trying to hold in a laugh. “No, you’re not.” Turning your head back to the scene behind you, a snort escapes him at your words. Choosing to ignore that, “Do you know what’s going on?”
Gaze meets his once again, finding him avoiding eye contact. “…No.” Too long a pause for you not to notice. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Yes you do.” an accusatory finger points in his face, which he slaps away. Face scrunching at the accusation, “Firstly get that out of my face. Secondly, fine, I do. But I can’t tell you.” he replies with an exasperated huff.
Brows furrow once again, “Why not?” Adem goes to reply but gets interrupted by two large hands clapping down on his shoulders, a wince leaving him. Dominic's scowling face appears over his shoulder, meeting your eyes. “Why aren’t you two working?” a brow raising at you. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning the glassware?”
You release a frustrated groan but move behind the bar. Grabbing a couple glasses to shine, “What’s going on?” voice taking an irritated tone. Sick of your questions being ignored.
Their eyes track something behind you, turning and following their gaze, you find Benny leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over her chest. You raise a brow questioningly, and she reciprocates it. Before you can repeat your question again. “Break time, y/n.”
You slam the glass you were shining on the bar harder than intended, causing all eyes to shift to you. “You’ll find out after your break.” Benny’s tone holds no argument.
“Fine.” You say through gritted teeth, and aggressively pull your waist apron off and shove it into her arms before you walk into the kitchen.
Once you’re out of hearing distance, Dominic gives Benny an incredulous look, “She’s going to be upset once she finds out.” A heavy sigh exits her, “I know. Let’s just finish cleaning up. They should be here in about 20 minutes.”
Dominic and Adem nod and turn to help the others, and Benny runs a hand down her face defeatedly.
─
The Inner Circle make their way towards Benny’s Bar, The boys leading the way. Elain and Lucien had kindly offered to look after Nyx for the night, giving his parents the night to relax. Amren also couldn’t make it, since she is away in the Summer Court. The family all dressed comfortably since the bar isn’t exactly the fanciest place.
Azriel’s hands wringing together as he walks behind them. A bad feeling sat heavy in his stomach. He shoves his hands in his pockets and pushes away that feeling as much as he can. He typically prides himself on being a relatively calm and confident male, but that calm is slipping into nervousness with every step closer to the tavern. Mor’s and Cassian’s excited voices only seem to make it worse.
The bell above the door rings loudly in his ears, as they all step into the Bar. His assessing eyes track each patron, and It surprises Az that no one even bats an eye, completely ignoring the big group that had just arrived.
Benny bounds over, a beaming smile on her face, that the lot of them reciprocate easily. Nesta and Feyre, having never met the blue female, eye her curiously, but grin regardless.
“Welcome! I’m Benny.” Introducing herself to the two females, who introduce themselves in return. “Let’s get you all seated.” Her smile never left her face.
Benny leads them to a more secluded corner of the room to give them as much privacy as the Inner Circle can get. And just like Benny had said a couple of days ago, two large tables were shoved together. Once everyone is seated Benny hands all of them some old menus that had hardly been used in decades, “I’ll leave you all to take a look, then I’ll come back and take your orders.” The group thanks her as she stalks away.
“She’s lovely.” Feyre voices to her mate next to her, while opening her menu.
“You should have met her when she first opened this place.” Mor snickers. “She wasn’t our biggest fan at first, but we managed to get her to warm up to us,” Cassian says with a proud grin, which Rhys snorts at.
Azriel peers over his shoulder, hardly paying attention to the conversation in front of him. His nerves spike once again when his shadows start darting around, whispering to him about who is nearby.
As he tries to shoo them away so he can see for himself, a deep booming voice comes from behind the bar. “Archeron! Get your ass behind the bar!”
The whole group's head snapped in the direction to find the source of those foul words. Nesta and Feyres' faces are set in a look of outrage, and the boys look about ready to kill. But as soon as they go to do something about it, a familiar head pops out from the kitchen door. You. Everyone’s mouths immediately snap shut.
Your own face is set in irritation. “What?” You growl back at the deep voice. Azriel’s dark brows raise a fraction, his gaze turning back towards his family, mouths dropped to the floor, watching you make your way over to him, while quickly trying to tie an apron around your waist. Az’s shadows now trailing across the wood flooring towards you, and he struggles to reign them back in.
Nesta's attention whirls on Cassian. “Is this why we’re having dinner here?” She snaps at him. Cassian shuts his mouth as he meets her eyes, “No, I had no idea.” His brows pull together as he turns back to look in your direction, at the same time Benny stops by Dominic and you. His frown deepens, “She did though.”
A slender figure obscures their view of you all of a sudden “I’ll be your server for the night.” The person's voice. Morrigan’s face lights up, “Odessa?” She questions, leaning back in her seat to get a better look at her. “Hi, Mor,” Odessa replies with a chuckle. Her head turns back behind her, towards you having a stare off with the male in front of you. You don’t know that they’re here, she realises as she scratches down their order.
─
Glaring at Dominic, who tilts his head towards the liquor, then throws a rag at your face. His silent way of telling you to hurry up. “I still had ten minutes left of my break.” you hiss, ripping the cloth off your face.
He shrugs, turning his attention back to the glass in front of him, “It’s busy.” You’re about to whip him with the towel in your hands before Benny’s blue form leans against the bar top in front of you. Raising a brow at the scowl on your face. “We have customers waiting.”
A rumbling laugh comes from your right, and a bottle of alcohol is shoved into your hands so hard you have to take a step back. You take a deep breath at the smug look on his face, he then hands you a note with a drink order scribbled on it in Odessa’s handwriting.
Without another word, you read the order, and step up to the shelf, take six shot glasses, and place them down on a tray, lined up. You pluck the lid off the liquor bottle and bump-pour the shots. Practically slamming the bottle down once done.
A low whistle is heard from the kitchen doorway, spinning on your heel, your eyes narrow at the blonde. Oberon has the gall to smirk at you. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Smirk widening as your face twisted further in frustration. Benny steps in before you can blow up, hand sliding onto your shoulder to try to get your attention. However, a flash of mousy brown hair slides in behind the male in front of you.
Tarian’s smile is almost smug as he peers over your shoulder, his focus catching on something, and he elbows the male next to him in the ribs, Oberon snorts at the observation. With a huff, you turn your head to see what is so interesting and find a dark shadow swirling by your shoulder.
All frustration leaves your body, knowing who it belongs to. Eyes widening, and panic setting in. Why is it here? Is he here? Are they all here? Your gaze lands back on Benny next to you. Who’s expression softens considerably upon noticing the flash of hurt that crosses your features.
Now you finally know who they were getting the place ready for.
Hesitantly looking around the room, and immediately lock eyes with hazel. Then the rest of your family, whose attention quickly turns to anything else, trying to make it look like they weren’t just gawking at you. You release a shaky exhale and push Benny's hand off your shoulder. “A bit of warning would have been nice.” You grit out. A guilty smile tugged at her lips. “I thought you would freak out and run.”
You can’t help but gape at her words. “Name one time I’ve done that.” She gives you a look, and you're reminded once again of how you started working in the bar in the first place. “Oh piss off,” you grumble before going back over to Dominic.
Choosing to ignore the fact that you have six pairs of eyes currently tracking your every move, you push a tray of shots to the edge of the counter. “Dessa.” Calling her attention away from a female sitting on one of the bar stools.
You point at the tray and she reluctantly leaves the female’s side to get the drinks. Giving you a wink as she heads in the direction of the large group. You send her a crude gesture as she turns, pulling a snort from the bulky male next to you. “Be nice.”
You throw the rag that you had been holding, at him. “You're lucky I didn’t whip you with that.” Turning towards a customer waiting to order. Shuffling comes from behind you, and in your peripheral you see Tarian ushering Oberon back into the kitchen.
Benny lingered by the doorway as well before following the two males. An unexpected breath of relief escapes you now that her eyes aren’t on you. Disregarding that realisation you keep yourself busy with pouring drinks, keeping to yourself for the rest of the night.
─
Azriel hasn’t taken his gaze off of you since you entered the room. Though that isn’t unusual for him. He had caught himself doing so since your first interaction in the human realm. An invisible force guiding his attention to you constantly, however, he always brushed it off as your charming personality. As far as he knows, you never seem to notice.
Scarred fingers twitch as he watches you move, strung so tight it almost looks painful. Trying with every fibre of your being to ignore the group of people who let you down. He let you down. He should’ve said something to them. He thought they would remember on their own. He was wrong.
He should’ve told you that he remembered. That could’ve helped at least a little, you would know that you’re not an afterthought, that he sees you. But he was a coward. Didn’t want you to think of him in that way, because it's easier for him. Did you end up even opening the present he got you? He wouldn’t blame you if you threw it out.
He gets pulled out of his thoughts by plates being cleared from the table. A red-haired male doing so as quickly and quietly as he could. How long had his self-deprecating thoughts distracted him? That question is answered by the Inner Circle standing from their seats and grabbing their jackets. Hardly conversing.
As Azriel starts walking out of the building behind his family, he looks over his shoulder, he sees you taking off your waist apron, muttering something to Benny while heading through the kitchen. A jacket hanging from your arm. He loses sight of you very briefly as the Tavern's door closes behind him, but then sees you exit out of the bar’s back door.
The rest of the group doesn’t seem to notice, already ambling in the direction of the River House, so he slips away over to where you’re standing.
He’s silent as he does so. He can tell that you know he’s there if the way you tense up is anything to go by. Stopping a good distance away from you to help make you feel like you’re not being cornered.
The silence that passes between you feels loud. “You didn’t seem surprised when you all realised I work here.” Pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, keeping your gaze forward. “Everyone else looked like they’d seen a ghost.”
Azriel studied your side profile, moonlight highlighting each feature, trying to decipher what you are truly feeling from your quiet, monotonous voice. He remembers you being far more expressive when talking. However, he knows three months can truly change someone. Especially with the way you were treated.
At his extended silence, you finally turn your head towards him, and the uncomfortable yet questioning look you give him prompts him to finally speak. “I saw you with Benny at the Cafe two days ago.” A heavy sigh leaves you at that. “Why didn’t you tell them?” He frowns at your question.
”Why would I tell them?” Now it's your turn to frown. “Because they’re your family. Plus work for Feyre and Rhysand. Doesn’t that mean you need to tell them everything?” Azriel shuffles on his feet, wings twitching at his back, shadows crawling across the pavements towards you, as if wanting to comfort you. Trying and failing to reign them in, He turns his attention to the Inner Circles disappearing forms, hardly in view anymore.
You follow his gaze “Not everything.” Brows pulling together, many questions on the tip of your tongue, but he continues before you can voice them. “Most things yes, but after what happened,” turning back to look at you, “You’re happy here. You should be able to keep a safe space. You found that with them.” He tilts his head to the Bar back door behind you, a curl falling over his forehead as he does so. Another sigh leaves you. “They all came anyway. So that doesn’t matter anymore.”
Thick brows pull together at the defeated tone of your voice. Opening his mouth to say something, but decides against it. You notice it though, deciding to ignore it when he stays silent.
A roaring laugh from the kitchen pulls both of your attention. A long exhale escapes past your lips. “I should get back to work.” Grabbing the door handle, almost hesitantly. “They miss you.” Azriel all but blurts out. Needing you to know. He cringed internally at the volume he spoke, not intending it to come out as a near yell.
You scoff. “If they missed me they would have tried to find and talk to me.” His shadows move sporadically, giving away his inner turmoil. “They wanted to give you time.” He tries to reason.
A sound of disbelief comes from you as soon as the words leave his mouth. “For three months? They wanted to give me time for three months?” Looking up at the stars to calm yourself. “For all I know they just forgot about me. It's not like it’d be the first time.” Azriel doesn't like the tone you’re using but understands where your anger and irritation are coming from.
Letting out a long exhale when he doesn’t respond. “I really should get back in there. I hope you enjoyed your night Azriel.” The sincerity of your tone makes Azriel’s shoulders slump, but he nods as you slip back inside. Leaving him alone with an uncomfortable silence. His shadows circled around him in frustration, whispering about the disappointed look on your features as you made your way back through the kitchen. They want him to go back in and keep talking to you, to try to get you to smile.
He’ll try again another day. Give you some time to collect your thoughts and feelings and accept the fact that they all now know where you are. No guarantee that they won't just show up when you need time to breathe. To turn your safe space into a place they visit often.
Maybe he can convince the Inner Circle to have a civil, grown-up conversation with you. Maybe you could get them to understand that how they treated you has affected you more than they could ever understand. That they hurt you. That you deserve better. You’re not a child anymore, you've been through stuff too.
He wants you to be happy.
With that thought, he jumps into the sky and flies home. But he’s finally realising that home feels different without you.
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a/n: There might be spelling mistakes. I’m sorry this took so long, I couldn’t get this right for a long time, and I’m still not the happiest with it, but I can always fix it in the future. The family confrontation will be in the next part. I’m sorry that the story is taking a while. I promise that the actual love story with reader and Az will show up really, really soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this regardless. <3
#azriel × reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel x reader angst#azriel angst#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar x reader#acotar#a new place#a new place series
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DEAR DIARY, DAY TWO OF HAVING A GIRLFRIEND….MIGHT DIE.
pairings ━━ jackson!ellie williams x reader
warnings ━━ tooth rotting fluff I fear
synopsis ━━ you like Ellie, ellie likes you, she grows enough tit to ask you out and surprise! you said yes! yet somehow you’re more nervous around your girlfriend than when she was your crush…AGH!
authors note ━━ did I go ghost for a year? yes. did I hear someone ask for more fluff/angst amidst freaktober on tumblr? also yes. I have come to provide🫡
IMPORTANT note — if you wanna request an Ellie or Abby fic, just pm me! I think coming up with all the fics on my own is the reason I burnt out but send me any ideas you have that aren’t smut bc I SUCK at writing that. Im also considering writing for arcane?? So yeah!
Cleaning horse shit isn’t the sexiest job in the world, which is why you were eternally grateful your girlfriend had been assigned to go on patrol with Tommy this morning. Even the thought of “your girlfriend” sent shivers down your spine and a red hot blush on your cheeks. You sniffled and wiped your cheek against your shoulder, conveniently the jacket your girlfriend, Ellie, had given you last night.
Again, you fought back a smile as the words “my girlfriend, ellie” popped into your head. Just 48 hours ago you were accepting the fact that you might have to yearn for the brunette from afar for the rest of your lives, and today you were biting your lips trying not to look too happy shoveling actual shit.
“Hey girlie!” Called out the man in charge, his big gut making it’s way into the shed before his head did as he leaned against his favorite horses stead. “You’ve been relieved. Tommy and Ellie are on their way back, just put the girls back where they belong and I’ll feed them, get it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.” He replied quickly before raising the pitch of his voice and cooing down at the large horse between his palms like a baby.
You snickered at his actions but couldn’t resist the speedy pace you walked at as you grabbed your hanging bag and ran towards the shed bathroom. As soon as you locked the door behind you, you immediately shoved off your almost knee length rubber boots and changed into your cutest (aka least creased) boots. Despite not having any perfume like they did back then, you did make sure to grab a special bar of soap before you left your house and scrubbed the lavender scent into your arms like your life depended on it. Looking in the dirty mirror, you tried to vaguely make out whether or not you looked presentable. You tried lowering the v-cut shirt you were wearing but immediately shook your head and decided against it.
Just as you were in between hyping yourself up and finding an escape route, the guards on top shouted out, stating that the doors were opening.
You were a nervous wreck. Constantly pushing your hair in front of your forehead and then behind your ear while simultaneously walking towards the front of Jackson where your girlfriend would be making an entrance.
With the sun beaming behind her head and shining her brown locks into a beautiful golden color, you had to raise your hand above your eyes to protect yourself. Has she always been this beautiful or are the God’s reminding me how perfect my girlfriend is?
“Millers! You’re back early.” A nearby card player called out, kicking his feet back against a wooden barrel with a cigarette hanging half out of his mouth.
“Yeah well, Ellie was killin’ them things left and right. Would’ve thought she had somewhere to be.” Tommy joked, sliding off his horse and giving you the reigns with a smile. For a second, your heart skipped a beat, believing she might’ve told him on their journey.
“Hey, if you’re a lousy shot, just say that.” Ellie teased him back with a shrug, remaining on her horse with no movement towards getting down. You looked up at her in confusion but as soon as your eyes connected, you immediately looked away, feeling your face burn.
“Yeah, next time I go out on patrol I know who to call.” The man chuckled
“Thank you, man.” Tommy beamed
“Not you, dipshit.”
You and Ellie let out a surprised cackle, and while you tried covering yours up with a cough as Tommy glared in your direction, Ellie couldn’t hold back her hearty laugh. She slapped her thigh and wiped an invisible tear from her eye as Tommy rambled on. While her uncle turned his anger to the card player, she caught your eye and motioned her head towards the stables.
“Lead the way.”
You nodded and lowered your gaze again, mentally freaking out as you guided Tommy’s horse back into her stable with Ellie following close behind on her own. Whilst you removed her gear gently, you could hear the clanging of Ellie following suit behind you. And when she finished, she simply watched you.
“You’re so gentle with them.” You jumped at her words, not expecting her to be so close as she leaned against the entrance of the stable. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She chuckled lightly.
“No, you’re good I, uh, I have this…idea that they’re so on edge from being outside that they can’t really tell when it’s time to relax and when it’s time to work. So I just try to make the transition easier, you know? No loud noises, extra treats, stuff like that..” You answered, giving the ol’ girl a nice rub on her sides.
Ellie hummed and leaned her body backwards, looking both ways to see if anyone was around before stepping into the stable you were in. Her steps were slow as she approached you and you resisted the urge to step away, not for any reason besides you literally thought you might combust being this close to her.
She stood in front of you, eyes staring deeply into yours while her hands remained at her sides. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” She said in a low voice.
“Really?”
“Of course.” Her head lowered to find your hands, she clasped both of your hands in both of hers as she admired you. “How could I not?”
Your mind was screaming, blaring alarms, and throwing burning papers in the air as the people in your head attempted to regulate…well everything.
You let out an airy chuckle and looked down bashfully. “Well, you’re lucky you didn’t see me an hour before.” She gave you a confused look, so you continued. “I was cleaning up after the horses.”
Ellie looked up at the ceiling and thought about the vagueness of your words before a smile grew on her cheeks. She lifted her hand to cup her cheek to look her in the eye. “I think you would’ve looked beautiful anyway.”
“Shoveling horse shit?” You snorted
She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t get in your mouth, no harm, no foul, right?”
“Ewww!” You whined as Ellie laughed at your reaction. You shivered at the thought. “Too early.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” She surrendered, admiring your entire face for a minute before looking behind her quickly. “Hey…” she whispered, almost nervous in a way.
“Hey.”
She moved closer to you, reaching up to stroke your cheek and hoping you wouldn’t notice the way her hand shook the entire way up. “Can I get a kiss?”
Your heart leaped. Your vocal chords were nowhere to found, so you attempted a simple nod. But Ellie smiled at you and shook her head.
“Can I hear you say it?”
You gulped. “Please kiss me, Ellie.”
With a wide smile, she leaned in and connected your lips so gently, you felt like you were being kissed by a fairy. She let you both grow comfortable in the kiss before pulling away lightly, giving you the same chance, and leaning in once more when you chased after her lips. The two of you remained in a tight embrace, neither pushing the others boundary too much but putting enough pressure to know she were there. For a minute, you forgot where you were.
“Hey girlie!” A voice boomed
The two of you pulled away in shock, looking between each other before you quickly looked around at your surroundings and hurriedly threw a brown bag in Ellie’s direction. She caught it in both arms before spinning around to face the burly old man who sauntered over.
“Williams. What are you doing in my shed?” He questioned her.
You popped out from the other side of the horse and patted her side. “Sorry, sir. She wanted to give the girls some treats for their hard work out there.”
He looked between you two suspiciously before crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Ellie with a look you couldn’t put your finger on. “So you’re the one who’s been sneaking my girls extra snacks, eh?”
Ellie’s mouth opened and closed for a second before sighing and handing him the bag as if she’d been caught. “Yep, it’s me. Sorry, man.”
He sucked his teeth and snatched the bag out of her hand, reaching inside to grab a red apple and bite into it. “You’re lucky you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, Williams.” He pointed at her and then to you. “And you, stop bein’ so damn nice. Y’all are gonna fatten my horses up. Now, get.”
You and Ellie swiftly made your way out of the horse shed, walking side by side inconspicuously throughout Jackson. Your hands occasionally bumped each other and you both resisted the urge to grab it. Ellie, because she didn’t want her business out to the whole world, and you, because your hands were probably dripping from how sweaty they felt.
You’d never felt this nervous around anyone. The secrecy of your relationship made it all the more wild. And yeah, it would be nice for everyone to know that Ellie is yours.
It’s also just nice being able to tell yourself that Ellie fucking Williams is your girlfriend.
#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams#tlou2 x reader#tlou fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us part 2
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