#she thought this world and life would be a second chance
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In Another Universe
#10. The Other Woman
Synopsis â When you are just another iteration of Park Jiminâs girlfriend in a different universe.
Park Jimin Ă Reader
Genre â parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity
Warnings- Language/SMUT- Making out/ Dirty talks/ Oral (f.recieving) Unportected sex/ Cum play/ Cum eating/ Office sex/ Word 'slut'/ Multiple orgasms (f.recieving)/ They are both assholes/ Hoseok is a little shit/ Angst / INFIDELITY
Word count- 20k
a/n- I was drowning in assignments up untill now. It's all over now. (Yay!!!). So I pulled this off within three days. Hope I've done good job. Thank you all for reading like always. â¤ď¸
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Chapter Index
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You really and very innocently had thought that you have finally fallen into a routine in your life. Even though itâs not normal. Thereâs nothing normal about waking up in two different worlds every other day. Still, you believed you now have an order. The part where things were unexpected was over. Then of course, it wasnât. When you woke up in a darn school, you thought, yet again, it was for a one time. You shouldâve known better, though. Since nothing in your life was a one-time thing ever since you woke up next to Park Jimin. No difference this time either.
The very next day after you came clean to the people you know; you woke up in your apartment. Safe and sound. The only hassle was explaining to Key that it somehow didnât work. What a liar you are. Not that you had any options. Other than that, it all went normal. And you werenât in pain either. Simply because you were in your space. Not Liyaâs. It was your world. Then there came the day after that. Waking up inside a school was terrifying but waking up at a bus stop was nightmarish. You nearly had a stroke to see a woman with bright red lips staring at you as if she wanted to make soup out of you. Fortunately, though, you had your phone with you that day. No one has stopped to steal it from you. Then in a moment of panic and wanting to get away from that woman you had called the first person who came to your mind.
Park Jimin. Yes, itâll always be Park Jimin, indeed.
And he came. Like he would. In a minute. Bed hair and puffy face. Had asked you if you were okay. Had made sure you were okay. Safe. Then finally you had that chance to talk. Get things clear. To plan out what youâll do. Only if you havenât wasted it. It went awfully to tell the truth. You two had talked about two things precisely. First, Jimin asked you what Liya had told you the other day. You honestly didnât know if you should tell him. For some reason you decided not to. You answered with a simple, ânothing much, just talkingâ. Jimin had looked you in the eye. He knew you were lying. Second, you asked him how it went for him. He took his time just to say, ânothing, she understoodâ. You had looked him in the eye. You knew he was lying. And then that was all. Nothing less. Nothing more. An entire drive to Jungkookâs apartment in silence.
At the very last moment when you were about to drop off, however, he had stopped you. With a gentle tug in your hand. Had talked to you. Finally!
He wanted you to call him if it happened again. If you woke up in a random place in middle of nowhere. Well, you intended to do so in that moment. Until his phone rang. Caller ID read âBabyâ with a heart. A gentle reminder that you wanted to make things right. You had a plan to leave. Jimin wasnât a part going well along with that plan. He is the very reason youâre still in this world. See now, you might not know what the hell youâre doing, but for fact you know the more youâre with Park Jimin, the more reasons youâll find to stay. Heâs a dangerous man after all. Tempting. Too tempting. It was your time to start doing things right. So, you did. When it happened again. When you woke up under a cherry tree you called Jungkook.
Jimin wasnât happy. No, he wasnât. Not the least. Had blown your phone out with hundreds of calls and texts. Had stormed inside Jungkookâs apartment like he owned the place. His excuse was that you never got back to his calls. Well, in your defense he never really gave you a chance to call back. Not even to send a text. You wanted him to leave the moment he invaded the place. But then there was that genuine worry in his eyes. Care. Affection. Panic. Was slightly shaking. Jimin always affects you in strange ways. So, you were forced to talk. Not much, however. And it wasnât a two-way conversation. It was mostly you talking and him listening. Telling him about why he shouldnât be running all around Seoul, saving your ass when there is a girlfriend waiting for him in his house.
See now, he never told you how it went with the said girlfriend and yes you knew he lied when you asked. But then, after loads of thinking you came to a conclusion. If he wanted you to stay after everything. Even after Liya is here and his request was still valid, he wouldâve already asked you. He wouldâve stayed that day. Like Liya said, nobody wants you here. Jimin has changed his mind.
Besides, you know Liya is a part of his life. And you think that part is inseparable. Five years isnât a short time after all. Maybe Jimin never thought that your wish would work, and his girlfriend would be here. Maybe he is just a jerk who wanted to keep fucking you while Liya lived in a blissful lie. Maybe he is just a mess like you. In the end, you didnât want to make it even messier.
Of course, you didnât tell him that youâre partially scared of getting too attached to him. When you have to leave whether you like it or not. You just reminded him he has a girlfriend. And that you donât plan to become the mistress. He said nothing. Absolutely nothing. How disappointing that was. You expected him to fight. Tell you that you knew what you were getting yourself into. But no. He accepted. Heâs always more annoying when he does that. Gave a look to Jungkook who was lingering in his living room. Giving you space. Youâve no idea what Jimin was searching for. Assurance that you were safe. Maybe not. Then had simply nodded. Made a request. A request for you to text him every day. Single text message. Nothing much, just an âIâm okayâ would be enough. And left. Like that.
Leaving you with a painfully squeezing heart. Maybe you shouldnât have brought that topic up. Shouldâve let him to mess with your life as long as you can. The moment the front door closed it was only one thing that ringed in your mind. He made his decision. Just like you thought, he didnât want you here. It had been a mistake he made. Asking you to stay. He decided itâd be Liya. Well, of course. Thatâs not even a choice. You and Jimin were nobody to each other. Just a fling that passed by. Why were you hurting anyway? Why are you still hurting?
Oh, hell, you are hurting. Missing him. Painfully. Even to this day. Have no idea how long it has been. A week? Two? In the end, that was the last time you saw Park Jimin. And he never replied to your texts.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ..
âThis shit canât keep happening, Noona. Just think how dangerous it is. What if you wake up in a hideout of some fucking gang, or... or what if you wake up inside a zoo, inside a lionâs cage; what if you wake up with a snake?â Jungkook���s mouth goes adorably wide, along with his eyes. Yet you couldnât help but roll your eyes.
âDonât be fucking dramatic Kookie, those kindââ
âDonât tell me that those kinds of thing only happen in movies because look at you.â He points a finger at you. âI really believed aliens werenât real.â Raises his brows. Slumps back on the chair. Youâre at restaurant Kim. Just finished preparing the place for the day. Now just waiting here for the day to start. You look at Jungkook, pursing your lips. Well, you canât argue with that.
âYeah, but.. I donât, I mean letâs hope something like that wonât happen.â You rub your eyes wearily.
âHope isnât going to keep you safe, and I want you, safe. We need to do something.â His voice is stern.
âLike what Kookie?â A sigh leaves your lips. You and Jungkook have been talking about this every minute you could spare. Like you and Jimin once did. Funny where all that planning and talking left you. Jungkook groans in reply to your question. Simply because he knows thereâs nothing you can do. After everything that happened, you think that thereâs no other way but to wait till answers find you. Exactly the same way how it happened before. Itâs not possible to find a woman who dissaperated in front of your bare eyes. In that case, youâre back at square one. Youâre in dire need of finding a way to live a life until you find answers. âLook, I really donât know what I can do for this right now, but I really do need to figure out a way to manage my life.â You blow out a breath. Jungkook furrows his brows.
âWhat do you mean?â
âYou know what I mean, I canât keep waking you up every morning and ask you to pick my distressed ass up.â You genuinely donât want to be a burden to him. Itâs not okay. Besides youâve learnt your lesson by depending on one guy already. Donât want to make the same mistake again. Â
âOh, câmon Noona, we talked about this.â Jungkook whines. Is telling the truth. You did talk. But talking always doesnât mean you came to a decision.
âWeâre still talking. Iâm serious about this Kook. I need to find a job, I need money, a place to stay, I need to find a way to support myself.â You put down your fingers as you list the things you need to get done.
âYou have a job here.â He gestures around the restaurant. Itâs not really a job to be honest. You just lend help in exchange for letting you hang around. And the tips you receive are yours to keep. No fixed payments. âIf itâs about the payments, I can talk with Jooââ
âNo. No, Jungkook. Youâre not going to annoy your friend again because of me. They are doing enough. Youâre doing enough. I canât keep living off you. Canât keep crashing down on your place. I donât know how long itâll take me to find a way to go back.â
âBut why? I enjoy having you here.â Jungkook whines. âI can make this job permanent for you.â
You open your mouth to protest. Or more than to snap when the door chime interrupts you. Itâs still early and Kimâs donât offer breakfast. So, you turn your head in expectation to see Namjoon. Who just left probably ten minutes ago. After yapping about how hard his life is to work with his annoying boss. You assume he has forgotten something and is back to pick it up. Only for your eyes to widen at the completely unexpected person at the doorway.
âHey!â Hoseok waves at you and Jungkook. Is already heading toward the table youâre sitting at when you and Jungkook return the gesture. Barely. Just a slight wave of your hands. âDid someone say something about wanting a job?â Hoseok just causally asks as he pulls a chair to sit down. Next to you. As if this is very normal occurrence in your lives. You both squint your eyes at him.
âWhy?â Jungkook is the one who suspiciously raises the question. Staring Hoseok down. The said man looks between you and Jungkook. Twisting his mouth. Â
âMaybe because I have an offer.â Shrugs. And you practically throw yourself at him.
âReally?â
âYes, if youâre interested.â Smiles. Tight lipped. Thereâs a glint in his eyes. Quite familiar to Jimin. Makes you suspicious instantly. Jungkook steals the attention before you can raise your suspicions, however.
âWhy are you here again?â His eyes are just slits at this point. Almost comical.
âOuch! Thatâs so fucking rude Kook. Arenât we friends?â Hoseok gasps. Places his right hand on his chest. You and Jungkook chant âNoâ in unison. âWow! Thatâs even ruder. You guys are such assholes.â Hoseok lets his arm falls down. Pouts. But then is smiling brightly within a split second. âWell, I didnât come here to offer jobs, but I overheard you guys talking about that. I just saw you two while I was passing byâ Gestures to the outside.
âThatâs an amazing ear you have. How did you even hear that?â Jungkook wonders while Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows cockily.
âAnd Iâm just being nice. I mean we might not be that close friends, but câmon I had you at my cottage Jungkook.â Hoseok says that to Jungkook. Good, since he thinks Jungkook was the only one who had been there. Apparently, Jungkook canât argue with that.
âYeah, fine whatever, so you overheard, and you just offer jobs like that? To anyone? What are you? A superhero?â Jungkookâs interrogation isnât over yet. It seems.
âNo not for everyone. But for my best friendâs, girlfriendâs, twin sister, I do.â Hoseokâs attention falls entirely on you. You shiver at his intense gaze. Gulp harshly.
âYeah? Why would you do that?â Ask timidly. Just to earn a shrug.
âBecause Iâm nice pretty lady. Thatâs not the question though. The question is what- a daughter of Kim, and Kim Liyaâs- the freaking CEO of The SEâs- twin sister, is doing at a restaurant and why does she need a job, or why she needs to find a job herself, when her father can buy her the entire country?â Hoseok quirks his brow in question. And you fight visibly not to contort your face in shock. Not to suck a breath in. Not to gulp down again. Not to rub your suddenly sweaty palms on your jeans.
âI- I uh..â You stutter a bit before your brain kicks something on for you. âIâm the family disappointment. The shame, you know. They donât want to do anything with me. Thereâs a reason why you never knew Liya has a sister, a twin.â You breathe out. Lie through your teeth. Thatâs the thing about lying. Every time you lie it become easier. Hoseok purses his lips. As if in contemplation.
âYeah? Why did she decided to tell us all of a sudden then?â Questions back.
For fucks sake!
âBecause I made an appearance, and no one needs confusions Hoseok. Why are you interrogating me?â
âIâm not. Iâm just asking out of pure curiosity.â
Or just being nosy. You want to tell that aloud but think itâll be too rude. Hence, your slight nod. And just throw a nervous glance at Jungkook, catching him give you a nod. In approval, you guess.
âOkayâŚ. so, what is this position youâre offering exactly?â Jungkook shifts the course. Folds his arms in front of his chest. Looks like a concerned father talking with his daughterâs boyfriend. Hoseok hums in answer to that question. Tilts his head. Bites down his pink bottom lip before answering.
âMm... like uh... an assistant⌠yeah, thatâs it. I am in need of an assistant.â Looks at you proudly. To which you squint your eyes, yet again.
âWait, why do I get the feeling that this position wasnât open, up until now?â Jungkook inquires as he leans over the table. Staring at Hoseok.
âIt didnât even exist, to tell you the truth.â Hoseok is so quick to fire back his answer. Too quick that you donât even catch on to it for a second. Oh, the man is honest at least.
âWh-what do you mean? Youâre making up a job to give me? Why would you do that?â You gape at him in pure disbelief.
âYeah, and itâs not like she canât find a job.â Jungkook adds. You nod in agreement. Open your mouth to say that you indeed can do that even though you canât.
âWell, will any of those pay you three million?â Hoseok leans back in his chair. Your words die in your tongue. Jaw dropping to the floor. See Jungkookâs jaw doing the same through your peripherals.
âThree what?â Jungkook whispers.
 âMillion. And five thousand, forgot to say that part.â Hoseok just casually fills in for Jungkook while you and him are just gaping at Hoseok. Thatâs beyond pay rate for a student. No part time job or an internship will pay you that kind of amount. Hoseok must be crazy. To do all that for you. In fact, you should be very, very suspicious about this. Youâre just about to raise those suspicions when Jungkook beat you up to it. Yet again.
âHire me please.â He almost get to his feet. âI can be a better assistant, I swear.â Say eagerly when your head snaps toward him.
âAre you fucking serious right now?â You hiss.
âYeah, Iâm dead serious Noona. I mean I can drop out of college if someone gonna pay me that much. And you donât have to worry, you know. Letâs get married and Iâll work hard to get promotions and letâs have kidsââ
âOh my god Jungkook, shut the fuck up! And stop saying you want to drop out of college all the time.â You roll your eyes to the back of your head. Jungkook pouts. Slumps. Hoseok snorts, grabbing your attention back to him. âAnd you? Why are you doing this seriously? Donât tell me just because youâre nice because no nice person would do this. You barely even know me.â You point a finger at him.
âBecause I need an assistant pretty. I told you already. I need someone to work for me, and it seems you need a job. Simple. Whatâs the problem here?â Hoseokâs words follows another shrug. Actually, you can come with dozen problems here. But Jungkook brings the most concerned one to the table.
âBut she canât work every day.â Thereâs a pointed look in Jungkookâs eyes now. He sounds concerned. And you know heâs not trying to steal your offer. No, he really do care.
âYou canât? Why is that?â Hoseok looks surprised. Genuinely.
âSick. Iâm sick.â You mutter even without a second thought. See, easy. To become a better liar, all you have to do is practice. Thatâs the lie youâve told everyone. Namjoon. His parents. You donât know if theyâve believed you entirely. What kind of sickness would make you stay away every other day. In the end, you stuck with the lie you made with Park Jimin. Youâve CFS after all. The fact that they all witnessed you reel with pain just aided you with your lie. Poor Jungkook. He has to be a part of every mess youâre creating. All the more reason to find your own life soon. And Hoseokâs offer is tempting. He is awfully quite though. Looking at you blankly. Well, there goes your opportunity. This was the exact reason why finding a job was hard for you. You blink at his face for moment. Then as youâre just about to avert your gaze away and accept that the offer is ruined, he speaks.
âOkay, thatâs not a problem. As long as you donât die.â Smiles brightly. Youâre back to gape at him in disbelief. Is this guy for real. Hoseok places his palms on the cold table. âWell, now since thatâs settled, move your ass assistant, we have works to do.â Stands up. Looks satisfied. Stares down at you now. Expectantly waiting for you to get up as well.
âWait what? She needs to start working now? Like now, now?â Jungkook is the one who gets to his feet, in the end.
âYes, she does. Youâre hired pretty woman, câmon move.â Hoseok bends down to grab your wrist. Yanking you into your feet. You just allow him, ignoring the fact that he had called you pretty too many times. Still very baffled. Jungkook rushes around the table instantly. Walking to you. Effectively grabbing your other hand. Â
âYou just canât drag her away.â Says sternly.
âWhy not? Sheâs hired. And her work starts now.â Hoseok points out the fact that youâre hired.
âBu-but, whatâs my job? I donât even know what I need to do.â You try to stay on your ground as Hoseok tries to drag you away. Jungkook mumbles something similar to âexactlyâ when Hoseok sighs heavily.
âReally? Even after I offered that much, youâre this hesitant? I thought you wanted a job.â
âI do but tell me what the duties are, Hoseok.â
âLike anything an assistant would do. Anything I asked you to do.â Hoseok jabbers, already trying to turn away when Jungkook tightens his grasp on you.
âWell, that sounds fucking dangerous.â He mutters skeptically. Making Hoseok turns back to face him.
âRelax dad, you got nothing to worry. Promise I will send your girl home by eight sharp. Or nine, maybe ten.â Clicks his tongue. Waves his free hand. âDoesnât matter. All that matters is Iâll make sure your girl is safe, and I wonât ask her to suck my cock. Swear. Man to man.â Turns around again. You scrunch your face up. Jungkookâs cheeks are a bit red now. Embarrassed obviously. Â
âB-butââ He stutters again when Hoseok this time turns to you.
âDo you want this or not?â Looks serious. All jokes aside. This is a moment to make a real decision. Well, itâs not that hard. Youâre desperate.
âYe-yeah, I- I do. Yeah. Course I want this.â You find yourself uttering. Paying your attention to Jungkook. To let him know youâre okay. He gives you a nod. You reciprocate. Hoseok grins.
âThen letâs move pretty.â
âWhat about my clothes though let me change first.â You asks again as Jungkook lets go of your hand.
âYou look damn fine.â Hoseok urges you out.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ..
No matter how much misery would follow you, youâll never learn not to make rash decisions. No, youâll never. Such a stupid, reckless fool. Thatâs what you are. When something like that happens, your main concern should be about where you would work. But of course, itâs too late when the question pops up in your head. Itâs too late when you realize Hoseok indeed works for R.U.N. Too late when you remembered Park Jimin is the CEO of that darn company. Itâs certainly too late to turn down your offer when youâre waiting to reach the lobby inside the elevator. Hoseok talking endlessly about something that doesnât quite reach your ears. Ever since the moment he confirmed, in his own words- âof course, we are heading to R.U.N, where else would I work?â- you have not been a part of this world.
Oh god, this is not happening. You did not put yourself in such a hard situation again. Thereâs a good reason why you didnât want to see Park Jimin. Even though you were missing him crazy, things were just going fine. The more you stay away from him, the more you can stay sane. The more you stay sane, more chances youâll not ruin your wishes again. Then here you are. All because youâre reckless. It wonât be possible to hide from him while youâre both in the same space. His space, yet again. Youâll see him certainly. And what will happen then? What will he think when he sees you out of blue like this? It might be you who asked him to stay away- which you regretted on some miserable nights- he was the one who accepted it rather easily. No arguments. No protests. Nothing. Just never was there after that day. Which only means one thing to you. He thinks staying away is the best just like you do. What a great plan. Only that youâre about to ruin it.
âWhat are you doing? Câmon.â Hoseokâs voice startles you slightly. Making a âhuhâ slips through your lips as you look at him confused. âWeâre here. What are you thinking so hard?â He says again at your stupid state. Only now youâre noticing that the elevator doors are indeed opened. A spacious lobby filled with hurrying around people and sleek minimalistic furniture has emerged. LED walls towering. Some game scene playing on it. Holograph in the middle. Fucking futuristic. And you gasp. Quite loudly that it makes Hoseok chuckles. âWhat?â Questions but this time drags you away from the elevator. Youâre holding it up after all.
âThis is fucking... wow...â You whispers the last part quietly.
âThanks, but weâre already late pretty. This way câmon.â Hoseok turns to his left. You follow, forgetting Park Jimin for a moment. Eyes wandering around crazily. Grasping everything. Jimin really is something. No, itâs not just him. These people, including the one before you, really are something. And then they would act homeless. Would kill each other for free food. Amazing. Truly.
Hoseok takes your wandering eyes back to him when he suddenly stops. You notice that he has stopped in front of the recipient table. A pretty girl with the most flawless skin youâve ever seen giggles prettily at something Hoseok says that you donât catch. Then her eyes flash toward you. It takes her a second but soon her smile drops. A realization drawing upon her face. It doesnât take a genius to guess what sheâs thinking. Especially when a sting at your chest makes you wince painfully. The moment you become sacred that it would get worse, Hoseok saves you. Without knowing it. Probably has read the girlâs expression.
âOh, thatâs not Liya. Thatâs her sister.â Introduces you properly. âTwins.â Throws a hand around your shoulder. âAnd is my personal assistant now on. Say Hi, Susi.â Grins. The sting subsides slowly. Girl still looks very confused. You donât know what she might think of this, but she bows to you, nonetheless. Which you reciprocate. Share a friendly smile with her before Hoseok is ushering you away again. Pulling you inside another elevator. And then youâre going up, up and up. Floor by floor. People rush inside and then outside. Everyone practically bows down to the floor when they see Hoseok. Most people donât acknowledge you at all. You think someoneâs gaze linger on you a little bit more than normal. Yet no one asks anything. Thereâs a slight pain in your chest. You ignore it. Completely overshadowed by the nervous feeling. Stomach churning and heart pounding. Thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Nervous about what might come next. Not wanting to see the CEO of this prestigious company. Wanting to turn around and run away. Hide.
You canât hide. Not at all. Thereâs no place to hide. Before you know, itâs you and Hoseok who are exiting the elevator. Stepping out into another spacious space. No LED displays. No holograms though. Just a simple workplace that screams luxury.
âMy office is this way.â Hoseok guides you. Youâre not paying much attention to what he says. Head nervously spinning around. In a desperate wish to get away from here soon as possible. Even if itâs into Hoseokâs office. Want to remain a secret. Then youâd be the most fortunate person on earth to have a such escape. Then of course, you are very fortunate, arenât you? The luckiest. You only get to take two steps toward the direction Hoseok shows, when you are faced with a tall figure. Making you abruptly stop to prevent colliding. Your eyes flicker to the newcomer. Meeting with pair of curious eyes and the lips that made you betray Park Jimin. Jin takes his hands out of his pockets just to point one at you. Surprise evident his face and you brace yourself to meet with the pain when he inevitably would call you Liya now. Only for him to surprise you. Greatly so when he mumbles your name. The name your parents gave you.
âWhat are you doing here?â Adds that question to the end of your name. He can recognize you like that now? Then nobody could do that when you were pretending to be Liya. Isnât that funny? But then you think itâs the clothing. Yes, it is. Especially since Jin is eyeing you head to toe. Certain. You believe Liya would never walk into her boyfriendâs company wearing a tight ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie. No, she wonât. Only if Hoseok allowed you to change first. Hoseok answers Jin, on your behalf.
âOh she? She works here.â Nearly walks away when Jin stops him.
âWait, what? Since when?â
Hoseok scowls at him. Evidently not enjoying being held back again. âSince now Jin. Now will you please let us go. I havenât even looked at that damn brief.â
âOf course, you havenât, and I donât give a fuck. How does she work here? She works as who?â Jin eyes you again. You feel like shrinking into an ant. Hoseok sighs.
âShe works as my assistant. Personal assistant.â
âBut why? You have a secretary. Why you need an assistant too?â This time Jin gives you an apologetic look.
âI do, but this is different. A secretary, Hyung, is not an assistant. Total two different people.â Hoseok pats Jinâs shoulder. You watch stupidly as Jin opens his mouth to disagree. But his words die on his tongue when a third voice reaches you. Loud. Right in your ear. Chirpy. And before you know it you are turned around. By a gleaming Taehyung. His hands on your shoulders.
âI knew itâs you.â He bellows as he takes you in. Of course, he did. You give him an awkward but a polite smile. With a slight blow. âWhat are yââ
âShe works here apparently.â Jin doesnât let Taehyung finish his question. âHoseokâs assistant.â Gestures to Hoseok. Who looks smug for no reason. Taehyung gasps.
âWait really? I didnât know we can do that. I mean if he can, we can too, right? We share the same privileges.â Taehyung asks Jin. Still holding you by shoulders. Jin gives him a look. Opens his mouth yet again to get interrupted for a second time. Even before he starts. This time the voice that interrupts you comes from distance.
âHobba.â All four of you snap your heads toward the voice. Taehyungâs hands still on your shoulders. Gaping at the man who rushes forward with his eyes fixed on his phone. You feel everything slows down. Like in a movie. Itâs slow when he takes his eyes away from his phone. Pocketing it. A faint smile on his lips. âDid youââ That faint smile drops. He freezes. This time eyes fixed on you. You feel your blood rushes in your body in extra speed. Heart beating in your ears. A painful tug at your chest at the sight of the blonde in front of you. Just few feet away. Feels like itâs been ages since you last saw Park Jimin. Oh, youâve missed him more than you knew.
This is a fucking mistake.
âLil?â Jimin breaks the uncomfortable silence which you didnât know has fell. That mustâve looked really weird how you stared at him. You heart does a leap when he calls you. Mouth goes dry when he comes close. âWhat, what are youââ
âFor the hundredths fucking time, she works here.â Hoseok groans.
âYouâre what?â Jiminâs eyes dart between you and Hoseok.
âSheâs Hobiâs assistant.â Taehyung fills in. âHe says so.â Adds in at the glare Jin throws him.
âWhy? Whatâs the problem? I canât hire an assistant?â Hoseok asks ever so innocently. To which Jimin furrows his brows. Eyes back on you. You force yourself to smile at him. Bow. Donât want to appear rude to others.
âOf fucking course, you canât. Why the hell do we have an HR department if we can hire people like that. I mean Iâm sorryââ Jin mutters to you slowly before turning to Hoseok again. Your cheeks flush red. Embarrassed. This is uncomfortable. âBut you canât just drag in people you want.â
âUgh⌠fuck you, Jin. She is not hired by the company. She is hired by me. I pay her. She works for me. Nothing to do with the company. Happy?â Hoseok gives all three men, a stern look. Well, you donât think that justifies this. Makes it okay or fair. Still very against the policies. Still, nobody says anything again. Especially not Jimin. Looks too stunned. You donât get to watch him longer when Hoseok drags you away. You manage a âbyeâ right at time.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ.
âOkay, this is not good.â You finally stand up from the little comfy couch at Hoseokâs office. Doing absolutely nothing but spinning in circles in your own head. Hoseok lifts his eyes wearily from the tab he has been looking at.
âWhatâs not good?â He sounds a little bit annoyed. Which you donât mind. You close the distance between you and him. Standing beside his table.
âLook, what Jin said is totally true.â
âDonât mind what he says. He has this thing to do the right thing all the time, you know, he is like uh... if you ask him not to eat your food heâll not.â
âWell, thatâs a good thing.â
âWhatâs good? I mean, who would fucking care?â
âOwner of those food maybeââ You look at him in disbelief. Sigh. âOh my god, Hoseok, thatâs not the point anyway. I mean I got this job very unfairly and everybody must be hating me right now.â You put your hands on the wooden tabletop. Bending down to emphasize what youâre saying. Hoseok finally puts away the tab. Sighs too.
âWhoâs gonna hate you when they donât even know you exist?â
âOh, really?â You turn your head to the left. Looking out through the glass partition. Catching the man sitting on the table at the far corner of the outer office. Staring at you. Or more glaring than staring. Hoseokâs secretary. The person who rightfully earned that position. Unlike you. Heâs been glaring at you for past thirty minutes. Hoseok follows your line of vison. Chuckles. Then takes the little remote from his table. Blinds the secretaryâs view. You gasp. âYah! Why did you do that? Now this might look like something else.â
Hoseok just clicks his tongue. Waves his hand. âStop nagging sweetheart, so what? You donât need this job now? Stop worrying so much. I can assure you no one is giving a single fuck as long as you stay away from company matters. Your only concern is me. Speaking of what, you should shut up, I didnât hire an assistant so she can nag in my ear all day.â Hoseok picks the tab up again. You feel a gentle tug at your heart. Then a heaviness. Someone elseâs voice ringing in your head.
Donât nag all the time lady.
Jimin used to say that to you all the time. Once upon a time where you shared his life almost every other day. And you thought he was being rude. But maybe you do nag too much. You shake your head to force away the unwanted thoughts. You shouldnât be thinking about him. Even though youâre currently at the same space, you think as long as you keep away from him you still can do this. So, you push yourself to keep going.
âYeah, fine, but at least give me something to do then. I donât want to get paid for doing nothing.â You straighten up. Your words forcing Hoseok to take away his attention from his work for the second time. He looks more annoyed now. Yet, still knits his brows. Thinks for a moment. Then smiles. Bright.
âCourse you should work.â Mumbles. You watch as he picks up a file from his desk. Hands it over to you. You take it hesitantly, not sure what he expects you to do. âTake this to Jimin. Iâve been meaning to send this to him since yesterday. Thanks sweetheart.â Says hurriedly. Another bright smile and almost goes back to his work when you almost shriek.
âWhat?â
âWhat?â Hoseok jumps a little in his seat at your suddenly raised voice.
âYou want me to do what now?â
Oh, for the sake of the mother of God.
This is not happening. Just as you thought youâd be fine as long as you stay away from him. No. Hoseok is not making you walk toward the very person youâre trying to avoid.
âThatâs very concerning. That youâre talking to your boss in that tone.â Hoseok gives you a stern look. Boss. Yes. Of course, thatâs what he is. But still, you canât walk into Jimin. Thatâs not wise. You canât do that.
âB-But do- donât youââ
âIâm paying you for this pretty. You agreed to do whatever I say, as long as my cock doesnât involve. Will you please do your job now.â
Technically, you agreed to nothing. Hoseok is looking at you with the same stern look, however. In the end, he is your boss. Youâre his assistant. Even though you donât know where your employee rights stand, this looks like something you should do. So, you gulp harsh. Force your maddening heart to calm down. Nod.
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You had no other option but to ask Hoseokâs secretary for directions. You have no idea where youâre headed. Good thing this pissed off man very reluctantly agreed to show you where Jiminâs office is.
âSo, youâre Ms. Kimâs sister?â He asks as you walk down a hallway. Beautifully lit up with yellowish light.
âHuh? Oh, y-yeah. Twins.â You chuckle awkwardly. He scoffs.
âNo wonder you land a job like that.â
âExcuse me, but thatâs got nothing to do with this. I donât even work for the company.â Your forced smile drops as you find offense grows inside you. Hence, you use Hoseokâs word.
As long as you stay away from company matters.
âWhat do you think youâre doing now? Making him coffee?â The secretary asks again but you donât have the chance to answer when you enter a much larger outer office this time. Your eyes directly landing on the desk in the corner. Occupied by a middle-aged woman. Herâs snaps to you at the sounds of your footsteps. Her eyes instantly going wide as she gets to her feet. No surprise now when your chest ache. You wince in pain as she bows to you deep. You barely manage to bow back as the pain is slowly intensifying. Youâre trying your best not to double down or whimper. Itâs pure luck that Hoseokâs secretary reaches her table before it can happen. Interrupts her words.
âMs. Liââ
âThis is Mr. Jungâs assistant Mrs. Emi. She is uh... Ms. Kimâs twin sister- as she says, and she is here to deliver a file to Mr. Park. Would you let him know please?â He explains slowly. The woman, Emi, looks at you again. Eyes still wide. Visibly in quite surprise. Fair. Then at the Hoseokâs secretaryâs second call she snaps out of it. Another bow. A quite whisper of an apology and she picks up the receiver in her table. Clears her throat. You watch as she mumbles a âhelloâ the pain starting to subside finally. Fortunately, never reaching its peak point. A clear sign that she believes youâre not Liya. Good. But now thereâs a whole new pain inside you. Churn in your stomach. Heart pounding. Feeling a slight discomfort in breathing. Hell, youâre nervous like a leaf in the wind. You absolutely donât want to walk inside. Donât want to meet him. Donâtâ
âYou can go in Ms. Uh... Ms. Kim.â She bows to you again deeply. You didnât even hear how the conversation went. You let out a breath. Forcing yourself to return the courtesy. To say thank you. To both of them. You want nothing but to turn away and break into a run as you walk toward the closed wooden door. You really are regretting every life decision as you grip the door handle. You want to know how to dissaperate as you twist it. You desperately and stupidly wish he would not be inside as you push open the door. Take a one deep breath in and you fully open it. Step inside before you can change your mind. This is fine. Itâs just Jimin; you know him. What could possibly go wrong.
Everything.
Oh yes, every fucking thing. The moment you let the door close behind you in a soft thud and your eyes avert to the desk right in front of you. To the man standing there. You know everything can easily go wrong. That painful tug in your chest comes twice powerful this time. Makes a lump in your throat. You try to swallow that down. Fruitless. Youâre not able to push this weird painful sensation away. Not when you can see him like this finally. See, youâve missed him dearly. Like heâs a part of you. Youâve missed those brown orbs. Youâve missed that blonde hair. Youâve missed those soft, pink lips. Youâve missed Park Jimin. And he is not helping that pain by staring at you like youâve cast a spell on him. Is making it worse by inhaling shaky breath. As if heâs not been breathing up until now. Like he needed to see you to breath. Surely that canât be true. No, itâs not. Youâre imagining things.
âLil.â Jimin breaks the trance. His voice hoarse. Steps away from his opulent desk. Nearly walks toward you. You mentally scold yourself to put your shit together.
âUh.. Hoseok, sorry, Mr. Jung wanted me to give this to you.â You step forward as well. Not allowing him to make it to you. Meeting him in the middle of the spacious office room. Hold out the file in your hand. Hoping Jimin would take it quickly so you can disappear. He doesnât. Instead, peer at your face.
âLil, whatâs happening?â Questions. Doesnât make any effort to take the file away.
âWha-what do you mean?â
âHow are you- uh- how did heââ
You save him from his misery. âIt just happened. It was very quick, I know. Iâm surprised too but yeah, it happened.â You try your best to avoid his gaze. It does things to you. Makes you weak.
âYeah? And you took the job like that?â Thereâs no accusations in his tone. No anger. Just asking. You shrug.
âYes, I did. I mean, I needed a job. I canât live off Jungkook forever.â
âI couldâve helpedââ
âYou donât have to do that Jimin. Thereâs a reason why I asked you not to run around trying to take care of me. You- uh- you have a life, and I donât want to be the reason it gets ruined. Besides, I can take care of myself quite well. I got a job now and Hoseok pays me well. I think this is good unless- uh⌠if you donât want me to work here like obviously itâs your company.â You nearly bite your tongue as you realize youâre rambling. A nervous tick.
âNo, no. I mean, uh- youâre his assistant⌠yeah, itâs fine.â Jimin shakes his head furiously. You finally take the courage to turn your head a little upward. Catching his gaze. Taking a good look at him. Feeling the tug intensifies. Itâs been just few weeks. Then why do you feel like youâve not seen him for years. Why do you notice these simple changes in him. Were those black roots always there? Did he always have those dark circles? Why doesnât his lips are a bit pale? Is he sick? How might he have been?
You feel your hands itch. Itch to do what? Youâve no idea. You feel your lips tingle. That spell falling up on you two again. You shouldâve never found the courage to look at him. Your heart is now beating erratically. Funny how youâve not noticed how close you are. Your tummy has started do those weird flips. Oh, no this is not good. You promised yourself that youâre going to make it right. This, after all, is about to make it worse, yet again. You need to leave from his presences. Immediately.
âThis. He wanted me to give it you.â You jerk your hand forward. Snapping your eyes away from him. Nearly push the file into his chest when he grabs it. âI- I should go. Thank you, Mr. Park.â You donât think youâve ever walked faster than you do now. Turning around and leaving without another single glance. Not allowing Jimin to say anything else. Â
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ..
When you returned to Hoseokâs office, you were shaking. Heart beating madly and in desperate need of water. Which led you to gulp down an entire bottle in one go. Making Hoseok worried that you mightâve met a ghost on your way. It had taken you more than thirty fucking minutes to calm yourself down. Twenty minutes inside the ladiesâ room and ten minutes sitting in Hoseokâs couch. Staring blankly at a gaming character that covers an entire wall. Right across from the couch. You had to talk yourself out of it. Convincing. That itâs all going to be all right. That you can survive through this. Well, you were more than fine till you actually met him. So, as long as you donât have to see him again, youâre going to be okay. Youâre going to go home successfully without committing any more sins. And then all you have to do is make sure youâre following the same procedure in the future as well.
Easy. So easy. At least it shouldâve been if everything had gone according to plan. According to how youâve planned it in your head. A perfect plan to avoid Jimin at all costs. Which went down the drain just after that thirty minute. All the pep talk you gave yourself becoming null and void when Hoseok hands you a second file. His request simple.
âWould you mind taking this to Jiminie, sweetie.â
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ..
You minded. You minded, a lot. In fact, you didnât want to do it at all. Yet you had to. Just like how you had to do it the third time. Like how you didnât want to the fourth time, but you still did. Then the fifth time. You were positively losing your mind at the sixth time. Then this is the seventh time. Hell, even Jimin looks at you like youâre crazy when you put a to-go coffee cup on his table.
âOkay, what the hell is going on?â Jimin mutters, confused as you sigh. You look at the lines that appeared between his brows. He keeps his eyes on the coffee cup for a moment before looking at you. Expecting answers. As if you would know. See, it has been draining to walk between Jiminâs and Hoseokâs office fourteen times already. Seven times to Jimin, and seven times back. Yes, it is. Youâve even become annoyingly aware how large this one floor is. Then itâs uncomfortable how you had to face Emi seven times. Pretty awkward when you asked her to let her boss know you have returned. Again. But those are not problems for you. No, not at all. The problem is how your poor plan is miserably failing. It hasnât even been a day yet. Why is it so hard to avoid just one person. Each time you visited Jimin, you stayed a minute longer than before. That is your problem.
You didnât share smiles let alone laughter. There were no friendly words but just polite ones. Still, you said a word more each time. This is not good.
âYou donât have to bring me coffee Lil. Why are doing that?â Jimin speaks again at the lack of your response.
âYeah, I know.â Â
âThen why are doing it? Say no. Youâre his assistant not mine.â
âYeah, but he just wanted to send you a coffee. A friendly gesture. Thatâs it.â You shrug. Then straightly rub your forehead. Annoyed.
âBullshit! That motherfucker has never once sent me a coffee in my life. Like what? Am I dying that heâs so concerned now? He couldâve emailed me that stupid letter, but he sent you over for it? What is he thinking? Say no Lil, you donât have to do all his stupid shit just because heâs paying you.â Jimin pushes the coffee back. âPlease tell me he hasnât send you all over the building.â Suddenly sounds so concerned. You shake your head slightly.
âNo, no. Itâs just you. Iâve been walkiââ
âHe hasnât sent you to others?â Jimin interrupts you. Taking your curious attention on him as he furrows his brows even deeper. Giving you a suspicious look. âWhat about Taehyung?â Questions. You slowly shake your head again. Starting to mirror his expression as your own brows start to merge. A realization starts to build up in your head. âJin? Anyone else?â He is looking straight into your eyes. You give him another shake of your head. This time firmer. Precise. Youâve finished connecting dots in your head.
That little sneaky bastard!
âThat little shit!â Jimin voices exactly what goes inside your head. You donât say anything to him though. Just curse under your breath as you clench your jaw. Turn around your heels fast. Starting to practically run toward the door. Ignoring whatever Jimin is saying.
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You ignore the sneaky side eye that Hoseokâs secretary gives you as you storm past him. Barging inside Hoseokâs office. Glad that his secretary still canât see how you march toward his- and technically your- bossâ table. Like a madwoman. Fury running through your veins as you slam your palms on the tabletop. Causing Hoseok to startle and recoil against the chair. Eyes comically wide.
âWhat the fuck? Wh- whaââ
âWhat are you fucking playing at, Jung Hoseok.â You save him from having to stutter over his words. Looking directly at his wide eyes.
âWh-what the hellââ He lets out a breath. Straightening up. As if he finally realized he got scared by you. Composes himself before speaking again. âWhat happened? You got possessed or something?â
âNo, but I will if you donât tell me what you are up to Hoseok. I donât care that youâre my boss, you can keep you damn job.â You lean in closer. Hoseok scowls.
âI think youâre possessed. And youâre frightening.â He gulps slowly. In a different context, you wouldâve laughed at that. Now though, you only glare at him harder. âI mean, what are you talking about? Iâm up to what?â He sounds innocent. Innocent that you almost believe him. But you donât.
âOh, câmon, cut the crap now Hoseok. Youâve been sending me to Jimin purposefully for no reason. Just to send me there, and I would like to know why? What are you up to.â You scowl harder at your own words when his scowl disappears. A ghost of a smile dances on his lips. Eyes lightly glinting.
âWhat made you think so? Because I assure you that I did not do such thing. Youâre my assistant and Iâm assigning you jobs. Thought thatâs what you wanted.â His confidence is back. That startle and confused look far gone.
âOh yeah? Then how come I havenât visited Jin or Taehyung yet? Or anyone else in that case. And I think Jimin clearly told me that youâve never sent him a coffee before and you couldâve mailed him that letter.â You recite what Jimin told you exactly. Knowing very well they prove you right. Only that it doesnât make Hoseokâs faint smile go away but makes it wider.
âAh! So, thatâs why itâs taking too long for you to come back. Youâve been chit-chatting with your sisterâs boyfriend.â Hoseok grins this time. You really donât like the way he put weight on the word boyfriend. No do you like how his eyes sparkle. As if heâs expecting good news. As if he knows the news is going to be good beforehand.
âN-no.. I mean, I wasnât taking too long Hoseok. He just told me.â You feel uneasy suddenly. It wasnât true. Even though you mightâve stayed a minute longer each time, you didnât stay there for Hoseok to notice. Let alone worry.
âDonât worry sweetheart, Iâm not scolding you here. I mean you can chit-chat with him all the much you want. I donât care as long as you do your job.â He pushes away the tab heâs been hunched over for the entire morning. You open your mouth to defend yourself. Feeling stupid at how the tables has changed so quickly. Youâre the one to stutter now. Yet Hoseok stops you before you can say anything. âSince thatâs done now. Do you like to join us at Lunch pretty? I hope Jin ordered Chinese today.â He tilts his head in expectation while he stands up. Youâre stupidly gaping at him though. Raking your brain for a good comeback. A way to return to your point since thereâs no denying that Hoseok did that. Sent you to Jimin deliberately.
âNo, I mean, I wasnât chit-chatting with him. A-and donât call me nick names Hoseok.â Thatâs what leaves your mouth. Stupid. Isnât the point nor the problem here. But it is still something that budge you. So, youâll get it over with since itâs out in the open now. âI have a name. Jesus whatâs with the men in my life giving me nicknamesââ
âYeah? Like what, Lil?â Hoseok cuts you down midsentence. Your words freeze in your tongue as your eyes dart to his face. He is on his feet now. Hands inside his pant pocket. Is poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Looks coy. Kind of remind you of Jimin when heâs amused.
âWhat?â You question foolishly. Feeling your mouth starting to dry.
âYou said men in your life give you nicknames. So, like what nicknames? Like the one Lil?â Asks the same thing again. Is calm. Composed. Certainly, knows what heâs at. You feel a light pound in your head. No words coming to your smart mouth this time. Only gape at him when he mumbles your real name. Once. Twice. âNo matter how hard I would think, your name doesnât go anywhere close to the name Lil. You know when I first hear Jimin call you that, I really thought it was shortened for Liya. Cause it sounds similar. But then Lil, Iâm positive Iâve never heard him call Liya by that name. Not before you or not after you. Because he doesnât call her Lil. He calls you Lil.â Hoseok raises his brows. You yet again open your mouth for words that never leaves your mouth. âDonât even try to deny it, he called you Lil even this morning. How stupid are you two? How stupid do you think we are? For not to pick up on something so obvious.â Hoseok steps away from his desk. Walks toward you. Forcing you to take a step back. His coy expression morphed into something serious. âYour stupid lies are so obvious Lil. Should I call you so? Why not huh? Even your sisterâs boyfriend call you so.â
âNo. I mean yes.â You suddenly blurt. Inhaling a sharp breath. Think that staying silent is a stupid way of giving away. You need to at least try. Try to deny. âI- I mean, th-thatâs my nicknameâŚâ Your words trail away. Hoseokâs lips breaking into a yet another cocky smile as you regret your entire existence. Just not your decisions. Shouldâve stayed silent. Hoseok scoffs.
âYeah? So, you admit it then?â Questions. You donât answer. Just stay there rooted to the floor. Admitting is what you just did. You were supposed to do it the other way around. Denying. âYou admit thatâs your name? So, I wasnât mistaken then. Thatâs how Jimin called you at the cottage. It was you.â Hoseokâs gaze is piercing. How stupid of you to just give away everything like that. And then here you thought you were getting better at lying. What a huge mess you are in? âI mean nobody with eyes and ears need that to know you werenât her Lil. I- we knew her for almost as long as we knew Jimin.â Another chuckle. âAnd did that stupid shithead friend of mine thought he can fool us like that. You were- are nothing like Liya. You can be twins, but you guys are complete opposites.â
So, he still believes you are twins.
Then at what heâs getting at. You try not to wander your gaze away from Hoseok. To maintain eye contact. Gulping harshly as you can feel your heart in your throat. Sweat breaking in your skin. You try to come up with something. Another good lie. In vain, though. Your brain is empty. Completely empty at Hoseokâs mercy. All you can do is utter a weak question. In your hoarse voice. âWh-why are you doing this? What do you want Hoseok?â You ignore what heâs been saying. Thereâs no point. This is Stupid. Taunting. Agonizing. Yet you stand there. Praying that this could not go any worse than this. Hoseokâs face softens for a moment. He takes a step forward again.
âWhat I need? I donât know. Maybe itâs fun to see you two idiots squirm at each otherâs presence like teenagers. Trying so hard to act like you donât know one another that wellââ
âThatâs not true.â You finally find your voice. Your brain finally starts to work. Processing things and coming up with ways to escape. âOkay, so what if it was me, Hoseok? Itâs not likeââ
âIt was you. Stop trying to deny. Iâm not an idiot like you think. And before you come with another stupid lie, I hope you cleaned my kitchen island after you did- whatever you did.â Hoseok grits. Turns away from you. A loud gasp leaving your mouth. Jaw hanging open as you feel your entire body heats.
Oh god no. Thatâs what heâs getting at.
You really expect Hoseok to leave you in your miserable pit of shame. But unfortunately, he isnât done confronting you. Isnât done taunting you. âTrust me you donât even want to know what I heard. But for what itâs worth, he kept saying the name Lil, not Liya. I was fucking drunk that day, but I know what I heard. Besides, Jimin acts completely different with you.â He turns around to face you again. You donât look at him this time. Buring in shame and wanting to crawl up to a hole, you keep your eyes on your shoes. Still, Hoseok continues. âMaybe, I want Jimin to fucking see that heâs damn suffering. Maybe I want him to know he can do all these alone. And do you want to know why youâre here?â Asks but doesnât wait for your reply. âIâm using you Lil. And you wonât back away.â
With that, he finally leaves you to bury yourself deep in your misery.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ.
You wonât back away
Hoseok had said. Yet in reality, you know he has no power over what you decide to do ultimately. Itâs not like he threatened you. No. He didnât do such a thing. In the end, he canât threaten you without doing the same to Jimin. If anyoneâs going to be in a tight spot if Hoseok decides to bring the matter up, it would be Jimin. And you know for a fact that Hoseok loves him. Hence, nothing to worry about. You can give Hoseok the middle finger. Turn around and leave. Youâll find a way to solve the rest of your problems after that.
But the problem is that you havenât done just that. That youâve already worked there for three days. You havenât turned around nor have you shown your middle finger to Hoseok. This time though, you know the exact reason why youâre still Hoseokâs assistant. Simple. Even though itâs embarrassing, the reason is the CEO of the RUN. See now, you knew Jimin is always going to be a reason to stay. The same way heâs the reason why youâre waking up in most random places and living a life where you could be dead in the next minute, he is the reason why youâre still tolerating Hoseokâs stupid tasks.
After the confrontation, you really planned on giving up. It was too embarrassing to face Hoseok after that anyway. Then you had walked out of his office. With no specific purpose. Just to stop your walking in the lobby. Because two men had interrupted your panicky mind going haywire. You had watched Taehyung saying something to Jimin. Something that is supposed to be amusing since he laughed hard. Jimin didnât. Just a chuckle, before he shift his eyes mindlessly toward where you stood. Catching you staring. A warm smile tugging on his lips. That smile tugging on your heart. That pull you always felt. Making the world blur.
Then there were you on the next day at your apartment, convincing yourself that youâre just preparing work appropriate cloth just because there can be an emergency. Not because you planned on reporting to assistant duties at all. Then there were you at Hoseokâs office, convincing yourself, youâre there to resign formally. That formal resignation apparently took a whole day. You had to postpone it for another day. Then another.
Thatâs how you finally made peace with the fact that youâre not going to resign. No. You feel like a schoolgirl who hates school with passion but attends every day because his teacher is her crush. No. That canât be. Jimin isnât your crush. Youâre not that stupid. Still, heâs the reason. You cherish every single moment you get to be in his presence. Every little and polite smile you share. Every word you exchange. Even though those words are anything but personal. Still, in the end, you like how you feel your stomach flip and heart flutter every time you see him. Then, isnât that how someone would feel when they see their crush?
You groan audibly. Letting your head fall into your palms. Keeping it there as if it can solve your problems.
âWhy the long face?â Jungkookâs sudden voice makes you raise your head. You catch him poking his head inside his kitchen. Hair still wet after his shower. Then he reveals his whole body to you. Enters the kitchen with a towel still around his neck.
âAre you telling me, I have a long face?â You smile softly.
âYeah, your chin is touching your feet. Itâs normal though, youâre an alien after all.â
âFuck you Jeon.â Both of your soft chuckles fill the silent kitchen. You feel Jungkook stands beside you a second before his hands are on your shoulders. During the brief time you shared in his space, youâve grown accustomed to the fact that Jungkook is touchy. He would squeeze you. Tickles you. Pick you up. And occasionally would start massaging your shoulders like now. Random. Everything about Jeon Jungkook is random. Like that mattress on his living room. You had moved yourself from his couch to that mattress. Eventually, it came in handy. You hum in affirmation when he starts to squeeze your shoulders softly.
âNo but seriously, whatâs the problem? Is that shithole giving you a hard time? He promised me he wouldnât.â
âNah uh, he promised you he wonât make me suck his cock.â You correct him. Eye lids slowly closing.
âWell, itâs still similar to it if heâs making you do all his stupid stuff. And he hasnât made you suck his cock, right?â Jungkookâs hands freeze for a moment. You chuckle.
âWhat are you gonna do if he do that?â
âI donât know. Making sure he wonât get his cock sucked ever again.â
âOkay, I donât want to think what that means. But no, donât worry. Heâs just a tough boss.â And he knows your dirtiest secret. When you had asked him if anyone else knew. Or if anyone else has picked it up. He simply said that he has no idea. But his best guess was that anyone with a brain should. Still, no one except Hoseok confronted you. So, youâre assuming rest of your friends are brainless. Easy that way.
âYeah? So, he still makes you run around the office?â Jungkook stops rubbing your shoulders just to sit next to you. Itâs really silly how you two would sit in this same spot every night youâre here and recite everything that happened in your day. Except for the parts you canât tell. Honestly, you havenât told anyone about that. Not even Jimin knows. You donât think you should run to him every time something goes wrong. And no have you told Jungkook either. âIf itâs too hard you can quit you know. We can always come up with another idea.â Jungkook adds when you keep your silence.
âNo, itâs fine. Itâs justââ You look at your hands on your lap. Youâre about to lie again. This isnât about work at all. Itâs about your stupid obsession with Jimin. Itâs about your inability to make a decision. And youâre keep staying in that uncomfortable situation just because you want to see him. Fuck your life!
âNoona?â
âItâs just Hoseok knows it was me at the cottage back then and- and... then he... uh... you know Jimin and Iââ Your words cut down when Jungkook harshly turns you around to face him. His eyes wide. You didnât mean to tell him. Yet it feels good to have someone to shoulder some burdens with you.
âHe knows? How?â
You peer at his eyes before slowly starting to explain how things went. He listens intently. âAnd is he fucking black mailing you? Is that it?â Asks in the end. You shake your head.
âOf course, no. He hasnât done something like that. But he told me that I wonât back away now.â
âYah! Thatâs what you call black mailing. He threatened you. Thatâs it Iâm gonna make sure he wonât get his dick sucked ever again.â Jungkook looks ablaze. Not believing you have disregarded that. So, you have to show him the reasons how itâs not really a threat. How it would ruin Jimin more than you if Hoseok do something stupid. âThen what the fuck he wants with you?â
âI donât kn-know.â You donât honestly. When he told you, heâs using you, it made no sense to you. It still doesnât. What did he mean when he said, Jimin acts differently with you. This is a part you havenât told Jungkook. Good thing since he would really go search for ways to make Hoseok dickless. âBut I donât care you know.â You add. Smiling. âComparing to the pay, running around the office is nothing.â Shrug. Jungkook still looks unconvinced though. So, you nudge him with your shoulder. âOh, câmon donât look so tense. Thatâs Hoseok, he canât blackmail me. He asked me to take this tiny bug out the other day. Man was scared for his life. Trust me the most he can do is making me get him a coffee every thirty minutes.â
A tiny smile appears on Jungkookâs lips. It doesnât take long for it to stretch into a grin. And then a laugh.
âOkay, I would trust you to kick his balls if he tried anything funny.â At last, he sighs. Just to compose himself after laughing.
âCourse, you can.â You assure. Watching him getting to his feet. But bends down again to your level.
âDo you wanna bake something?â Questions out of nowhere.
âWhat? Now? Do you know how to bake?â
âNo, but thatâs why we have technology. Câmon, itâs going to be fun.â
Random Jeon Jungkook.
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Fun it is. Too much fun in fact. It was exhilarating to go grocery shopping at night to buy what you needed to bake- as Jungkook says- Kookâs bliss. You made sure to gag every time he said the name. The guy wasnât discouraged a bit, however. He keeps calling the cupcakes Kookâs bliss and is ecstatic about what youâre doing. You can see him visibly buzzing.
âOkay, we need to preheat the oven first.â You squint at the video to read the subtitles. Not that you canât understand what sheâs saying but you need to make sure youâre preheating the oven for the right temperature and time. âAnd then we have to mix all this stuff up.â
âLike that? Itâs easy. Like eating cake.â Jungkook places his hands on his hips confidently.
âUh huh. Letâs see about that.â You turn around to meddle with the oven, handing over the phone to Jungkook so, he can start.
âOkay, here we go, baby. Mixing everything up.â You can hear him mumble to himself. Makes you smile to yourself. You straighten up and turn around after setting the oven to preheat. Â Pay your full attention to Jungkook. Walking right beside him at the right time when he start pouring the buttermilk to the bowl.
âYou already mixed the baking powder and all? That was quick.â You say to him as you pick the phone up again. This time to check how to make the frosting. Only to get distracted when Jungkook suddenly stops. Head snapping toward you. âWhat?â You ask.
âAm I supposed to mix that first? Wait, is there an order? You told me we just have to mix everything up.â His eyes leave your face to stare at the bowl. Blankly. Stupidly.
âYou didnât?â You lean forward to peer at the bowl too.
âNo, itâs just flour there. And Iâm adding milk to it.â He shows you the obvious. You have to clear your throat to hide the annoying groan that is about to leave.
âUh.. Iâm pretty sure she told to whisk the flour, salt, and something else before milk. Evenly mixing or something.â
âFuck, now what? We throw this away.â Jungkookâs eyes are too wide. Glints. Shifts those eyes to. Catching your own which are wide with disbelief.
âNooo⌠Jungkook. Thatâs such a waste.â
âWhat are we gonna do then?â
âWeâre gonna keep going, likeââ You shrug, giving him a thoughtful look. âItâs not like it would make a huge difference now, will it? We would still be able to eat it. Letâs keep going huh?â
Jungkook doesnât reply to you in words. Do it in a shrug before pouring the rest of the milk into the bowl. Well, it seems like youâre up to a good start here. Very good one indeed. Where you threw the instructions away as you start doing it in your own way. Turning everything into a funny mess. It definitely started with Jungkook putting the wrong foot forward, but you are the one who make the first mess. Accidentally, bursting open a packet of baking powder making the contents puff out. Showering you and Jungkook in the white dust. Filling the air with coughs that turn into roaring laughter soon after. Then itâs laughing more than working. Too much laughing since youâre wiping the tears away now when you finally put the cupcakes- or whatever you made- in the oven. You had to preheat the oven twice.
âDo you think they will be safe to eat.â You ask Jungkook after wiping your eyes with your T-shirt sleeve. Two of you are peering inside the oven through its tempered glass. Both of your hair still covered in white substances. So do the parts of your faces. The tip of Jungkookâs nose is adorably white at this moment. You canât help but chuckle at that.
âCanât guarantee. Maybe we should take some to Joonie and J, I refuse to die alone.â
âYouâre not dying alone, you have me.â
âTrue, but do you want to be stuck with me forever? Joonie can be a good distraction when you get bored of me.â
âSounds like a plan. Maybe I should take some to Hoseok as well.â
âPlease donât. Why would you want him to annoy your ass even after you die.â
You straighten up as another laugh leaves your lip. Jungkook follows your movements. Grinning from ear to ear. This sure is a good distraction for you stressing up mind. You feel fairly relaxed now. Not that youâre fooled that itâs going to last. Know itâs temporary simply. Yet, itâs good. You plop into a stool when Jungkook suddenly perks up.
âWhatâs that song? I like it.â He points at your phone.
âYeah?â You look at the device as well. Itâs your phone from your world. Your offline playlist on shuffle. Jungkook wanted to listen to alien music. Taylor swiftâs Paper Rings has changed into Justin Bieberâs 2U. âAh, thatâs To You. Justin Bieber.â You answer his question casually when he snatches your phone away with great interest.
âI like this.â Mumbles to himself. Unlocks your phone to look at the album cover. Takes his moment listening to the song. Justine Bieberâs voice flowing across the kitchen.
When it comes to you,
Donât be blind
Watch me speak from my heart
When it comes to you, comes to you.
Jungkook gasps. Those doe eyes blinking at your face. Are glinting madly. âI like this dude.â Says with such wonder that you nearly think he just fell in love.
âHe was my teenage crush.â You let Jungkook know for no reason when he puts down the phone back. Walks toward you.
âWhoâs your crush now?â Asks but doesnât let you answer when he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. Itâs good that you donât get to answer. You donât have a crush. At least, not someone other than Park Jimin.
Holy fuck, he is not your crush.
You mentally scold yourself as Jungkook places his hands over your waist.
âOkay, what are you doing?â
âDancing.â He scrunches that white nose. You giggle when he makes you do a swirl.
âReally? This is so stupid.â You donât mean that. Are having a hard time trying to keep your giggles controlled.
âThatâs the best part Noona. Because itâs stupid.â
Random. Oh, so random. But you like it.
You like someone else other than Jimin in this world. You donât want any more reason to stay. Yet Jungkook is slowly making a special place in your life. Is creating one more reason to love this life. Itâs not that you have a choice but to return anyway. In that case, just avoiding Jimin wonât make it easy for you. Maybe itâs such a waste that you will not have any more memories with the person who you want to create them the most.
It'll be a waste. Surely.
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Jimin had just one thing to do. One. And it wasnât easy. Respecting your wishes not to see him again. You explicitly asked him to do so. Oh, it cut him when you said that. When you asked him to stop worrying about you. When you reminded how much of a prick he was to do so when he was committed to another woman. Then it wasnât really his fault you popped into his life again, is it? True, he has been ecstatic to know you were hired. Even though it felt wrong and is wrong like Jin says. Even though youâre Hoseokâs assistant and not his. Even though, he knows Hoseok is into something. Still, heâs the happiest heâs ever been. Except for the time he woke up to see you adorably mumbling in your sleep.
 You donât talk to him much. You always keep it professional. He hasnât seen that pretty smile or heard those pretty giggles. Sure, you two have these strange moments where you would just stare at each other. Jimin swears he can see that starry night inside your eyes then. Only for a split second, however. You would always snap your eyes away from him. Then would dash away.
Oh, how bad he misses you. How desperate he is to see that smile. Giggles. How he is itching to just reach you whenever youâre in his vicinity. Close. He doesnât need much. Just a touch of your soft skin. A fleeting brush of your lips in his. That would be more than enough. Whatâs wrong with him? Itâs scary how heâs getting slowly obsessed. How heâs grinning stupidly when Mrs. Emi informed of your presence. How he feels like a boy again. Waiting patiently for his school crush. He forgets who he is. Feels bubbly and buzzing. Itâs becoming torture to wait till you finally let those walls down. Till you call him Park again in your adorable, annoyed voice. Till you pout hard.
Oh fuck!
Itâs not that heâs getting slowly obsessed. He is obsessed. How else he would explain driving to Kimâs, hopefully just to catch a glimpse of you. He promised himself he would drive away the moment he saw you. Then he ended up waiting there for hours. Like a creep. Watching you sauntering around. Serving tables and smiling wide. It had made him grin widely alone. To see your smile. Though, it wasnât for him. Nine out of ten times it was for Jungkook. The dude following you like a lost puppy. Annoying. Gets Jiminâs blood boiling. Another reason why heâs happy now you have a job. Youâll never accept his help but since Hoseok pays you well now- despite whatever his intentions are- youâll be able to move out soon. And he gets to see you every other day, like how he used to. Everything feels like going damn well. In reality, however, itâs not.
He understands why you asked him to stay away. You are a dangerous woman after all. Itâs becoming unbearable with every passing day. With each day heâs getting closer and closer to losing control. For a fact, he knows one of these days, heâs definitely going to kiss you hard until you both canât breathe. And thatâll be how it all goes down the hill again. Thatâs how mad you drive him. Especially since now youâre fully into this assistant thing. Wears damn button downs. And pencil skirts. Heâs a man. A man who is incredibly attracted to you in that case. You always make his brain short circuit.
No difference for today, when he catches you step outside the elevator while heâs about to head off to Jin. Youâre juggling with way too many some kind of boxes in your hand. Jiminâs eyebrows instantly merges at the sight. Especially, when Hoseok is stepping out right beside you with his hands beautifully free. Jimin is about to reach you. His mouth already open to yell at his dear friend when Taehyung beats him up to it. Emerging from nowhere.
âYah! Hyung! Really? Youâre letting her carry all this alone. What are you? Insensitive demon?â Taehyung already reaches for the boxes youâre carrying when you skillfully avoid him. Makes Hoseok snorts.
âTry dealing with this stubborn hag Taehyungââ
âYah!â
Jimin watches as your protests get ignored by his two friends. Well, he canât argue with that one. Makes perfect sense if it was you who insisted on carrying all those by yourself.
âYou think I gave her those? She nearly bit my hand in front of Susi when I tried to help her.â Hoseok throws an incredulous look at you. You smirk devilishly. Jimin feels his lips stretching into a smile. Of course, you did. Taehyung gasps.
âReally? You have a bite kink?â
âOh, yeah, you want me to try it on you.â You take a step toward Taehyung. Probably assuming he would be scared and step away. Only to find out that Taehyung is looking at you expectantly. You donât know his friend well, it seems. You stop, realizing itâs not going according to your plan. Scrunch your nose.
âWell, what did I expect.â Mumble to yourself.
âWill you put those down. Please?â Hoseok interrupts you concernedly. Youâre torturing yourself with those. Jimin canât hear what you say to that but in a minute, youâre doing swirl. And walking backward in his direction. Waltzing. Hoseok giving you his signature judgmental look while Taehyung is grinning widely. Both of their eyes going past you and landing on Jimin. Finally, acknowledging his presence there. Taehyung raises his hand in a wave to him. Jimin nearly returns it when his eyes swift back to you. Right at the moment your back bump into his shoulder. Unexpected for you. Jimin has no time to move away either. Youâve already collided with him and are losing your balance. Itâs too late when Jimin springs into action. Trying to grab you, when you fall back. All the boxes youâve been carrying, flying into the sky before they fall on to you. A shriek leaves your mouth followed by a loud thud.
You curse aloud one time before it all goes into silence. Just Jimin dumbly staring at you who is lying there on the marble floor. Eyes scrunched shut and face contorted in pain. You open your eyes slowly. Catching Jiminâs eyes on you. Staring back at him. Face slowly starting to change color to a deep scarlet. Adorable. Oh, so fucking adorable.
âYouâre flashing us.â Taehyungâs sudden voice grabs Jiminâs attention. He snaps his head toward him. Then back to you. You just slightly raise your head from the floor to look at them. Sure enough, youâre just doing that. That damn skirt has ridden up. To add more to it youâre bending your knees. Jimin has to gulp harshly first before glaring at his two friends. Who are shamelessly and obviously staring at you with their mouth hanging open.
âOh, fuck. Sorry.â You hastily mutter as you try to get up. On your wobbly knees.
âFuck off!â Jimin shouts at his friends meanwhile. Since they donât look like going anywhere.
âWhat?â Taehyung asks Jimin first. âDo you need help baby?â Asks you, already starting toward you when Hoseok luckily grabs from his arm.
âNo, she doesnât you little shit.â Hoseok states as he starts to drag Taehyung away. Good. Jimin is glad.
âWhy not? Yah! This is very rude.â
âNo, it is not. Youâre shameless, you know?â
âAs if youâve looked away.â
Their voices trailed off down the hallway. Giving Jimin the chance to pay attention to you. Youâre already on your feet. Hastily collecting what youâve dropped.
âIâm sorry I didnât see you there.â You softly mumble. Jimin bends down next to you. Helping you to collect the littered items.
âNo, you didnât, because you were dancing.â He doesnât mean to embarrass you anymore, but you look like youâre about to explode. Itâs completely unintentional how he grabs your hand, stopping you from picking up your fourth box. Makes you straighten up. Your wide eyes peering into him as you struggle to hold three boxes with one hand. Jimin should let your hand go. So, you can hold them properly. He doesnât. He canât. Your hand is soft in his. Feels like the first time heâs touching you. Squeezes it. âYouâre red.â
âHuh?â You squirm slightly under his gaze. Look like you want to hide your face behind your hands. They are both occupied, however.
âLika a tomato.â Jimin ignores your struggle. Hopes you remember calling him a tomato. âCuteâ Adds as he finally let go of your hand. Not because you can hold the damn boxes properly. Because he wants his both hands to take them from you. You donât even protest. Look thunderstruck. Isnât it amazing how he can do that to you. Makes his head spin to think. You gape at him for few seconds. Then youâre doing it. Pouting. Fuck he wants to press his lips into yours.
âI swear to god, if you laugh, ParkâŚâ
Youâre calling him Park. Not Mr. Park. No professionality. In your annoyed adorable voice. And Jimin thinks his heart is about to leap away from his poor rib cage. Isnât it amazing how you can do that to him. He has to bite down on his lower lip to act like he is in fact not about to laugh.
âI- Iâm not laughing.â
âWell, youâre about to.â
âIâm not Lil. Where do you want this to go?â
âTo Hoseokâs. Iâm gonna kick your ass if you laugh.â
Thatâs the final straw. He canât help but let it out. Canât help but laugh hard. Youâre glaring at him hard. For a moment. Then the corners of your mouth are twitching as well. You try your best to suppress it but fail. Fail miserably when a chuckle escapes you.
âFuck you, Park. Fuck you.â Say through your pretty giggles as you leave him. Knowing very well, he would follow.
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âWhatâs in here anyway?â Jimin curiously questions you as he puts the boxes down.
âI have no idea. He had them in his trunk.â You answer honestly. Your laughter had finally died down and the situation slowly sinking into you. You and Jimin had finally broken the barrier of being professional. Back to calling him Park. Back to bickering. Back to being in the same spaces without trying to run away. All it took was a slip on your foot and a minute. Which is bad. After all, you still want to think you have a chance. Maybe keeping Jimin away wonât make it easy for you to leave this world one day. But thatâs less of a burden on your life. He is still in a relationship. You still want to make things right. So, you want him to leave now. Or you should leave him here.
âUhm... Thank you.â You blurt out before he can ask anything else. Making him turn around to look at you. Youâre not trying to be rude here. But it might look like that.
âYou want me to leave?â
No. Of course not.
âWell, I mean, you must have work to do Mr. CEO. Thanks for helping me. I should find Hoseokââ You step forward. This is awkward. And hurtful. That glint in Jiminâs eyes disappears. ââhis coffee. Do you need coffee? I can take you, yours.â You ramble, gesturing at the door. You still need to try. The sooner you get away, the sooner your heart will calm down. When did it start going crazy? When your heart calms down, you can remember why you should not get comfortable with Jimin again. Yet before you can step away, Jimin clutches your wrist. Stopping you.
Fuck, too late!â
âYou need to stop doing that. Thought you called me immature when I did that.â Jimin turns you around to face him. Softly. Your brain is starting to ring warning alarms. This is how it always start to mess up.
Get away now!
âDoing what?â
âTrying to avoid me. You were the one who told me talking is what we should do, not avoiding.â
âIâm not avoiding you Jimin. How can I avoid you when I walk into your office ten times in a day.â You try to free your hand subtly. He doesnât let you. Like earlier. And deep down you donât want him to let you go.
âYeah? And you would run away like Iâm about to eat you.â Jimin scowls. Isnât he though? Not all the time, no. But sometime thatâs how he looks at you. Give you the urge to spread your legs right then and there. You have good reasons to run away.
âI- Iââ
âAnd you asked me to stay away from you Lil.â
This time itâs you who are scowling. Gasp. âWhen did I ever say that?â Jimin doesnât answer you. Just give you a deadpan look. âAll I said was that you donât have to help me all the time.â
âWere you?â
âWell, itâs not like you replied to my texts. You donât get to accuse me.â You donât really feel mad. All you want is to leave. Every passing minute where youâre staring into his brown orbs, makes you greedy.
âYou asked me to stay away.â Jimin repeats. This time more sternly.
âI did not.â You match his voice.
âThatâs what you meant when you said that. You wanted to keep me away.â Last part leaves like a breathless whisper. Brushing past your entire body. Making you weak. Youâre becoming weak. Chest squeezing. âYou wanted me to stay away from you Lil. I was just doing that.â Jimin pulls you with your hand. Slowly. You take a step forward. See, weak. Greedy. His thumb is drawing comforting circles in your hand. How you missed his touch. Is watching you expectantly. Something in his eyes are forcing you to speak the truth. Youâre losing it.
âI wanted to try Jimin.â So, you give up. Sigh. Allow yourself to become greedy and get bewitched in his gaze.
âTry what?â
âTo stay away. We canât- canâtââ
Jimin scoffs. âWant a piece of advice Lil? I already tried that, and itâs not gonna work.â Whispers. You donât stop him when his free hand cups your cheek. Oh, here you go again. Like he said, it never was going to work.
âBut- but we need to try at least.â You try to downcast your eyes.
âWhat did she say to you? Liya?â Jimin keeps your face in place. Never letting your eyes wander away from him. Truth. Something is pulling you to tell the truth. âShe asked you to leave, didnât she?â
âShe has all the rightââ
âNo, she doesnât.â
âItâs rightfully her place Jimin. And we canât share it.â You try to reason.
âThatâs why you wanted me to stay away?â Jimin ignores your attempts.
Your heart is pounding in your ribcage. You want him to bring you even closer to him. A silence fall down as you simply nod.
âThen you wouldnât have asked me to do so, if it wasnât for her?â Asks again.
âYouâre in a relationship Jimin.â
âSo what? I wasnât in a one when everything happened. You didnât know I have a girlfriend when you let me fuck you?â
You shut your mouth. Thereâs no answer for that than admitting. You knew. You canât even be mad at Jimin for confronting you. He doesnât sound like heâs accusing. Is simply asking you a question.
âI did, butââ Jimin cutâs you down by cupping your cheeks with both of his hands this time. Closes the distance between you.
âThen what difference will it make now?â His gaze drops to your lips. Youâre certain, his lips would land on yours in a split second. And youâll let him. Youâre already anticipating that touch. But just before it happens, you find yourself stopping him with a question.
âSo, you still want me here then?â Youâre finally doing this. Asking questions that need to be asked. Jiminâs eyes shift back on to your eyes instead of your lips. A slight frown appearing in his forehead.
âWhat do you mean?â
âWell, even when Liya is here, you still want me? You still donât want me to leave?â Your voice is shaky. Jimin chuckles softly in disbelief.
âCourse I do baby. Why are you even asking that question?â
âYou left with Liya that night.â
You watch as Jiminâs features softens. Contrast to how his hands tighten. âI didnât know what I should do Lil.â Explains. You know heâs telling the truth this time.
âDo you now, then?â
A silence. A sigh. Deep one. And a shake of his head. âHonestly, no. I have no damn idea what I should do. Iâm fucking lost.â Despite his words he brings his face closer to you. âTell me what I should do baby.â You close your eyes to bask in this feeling. Loving the way his breathings tingle your face. âAks me to stop Lil. Ask me to go away. Maybe, you should reject me, if you still want to try.â You open your eyes to find his hazy ones. Droopy. You want to laugh at his request. Jimin is an asshole through and through. Is so fucking selfish to ask you to do that. You canât even blame him since he so graciously admitted he is. Well, if he can be selfish, you can too. Thereâs a bubble of annoyance that pushes you toward your greed. Pressing your lips into his which are so close to yours. You donât care. Jimin hums in appreciation. A clue that he never wanted you to reject him. Immediately, starts to work against your lips. Lips slotting with yours desperately. Inclining your head for better access. His tongue poking at the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You give him that. Allowing him to lap with your tongue. Allow him to kiss you until your lunges scream.
Only drifting apart for a long breath before attacking each otherâs lips again. This is good. More than good. You had wanted, no, you had needed Jimin more than you knew. Itâs good to see he wants you as much as you do. Youâre clutching on to him eagerly. Kissing him back with a same kind of fervor. Moaning into his mouth. And you want to give him more. More than you need. Want him to know heâs driving you mad. You let your hands roam. Roam on his body. Starting from the back of his neck. Shoulders. Chest. His god sculptured abs. Touching him the best you can through the annoying clothing till your hand stops on his belt. You take a moment, just to tease him before you let it brush against his crotch. Jimin grunts and buck his hips instantly. Pulls away.
âDo it again baby please.â Moans.
âLike this.â You do it again. This time with enough pressure. Jimin lets out an inaudible gasp. Works in light speed when his hand falls on top of yours. Not letting you take your hand away. Guiding you to rub his hardening cock.
âLike that yes. Fuck. More princess please.â You whimper at his words when he keeps pressing your hand harder against his cock. You do as he wants. Like you always would. Squeezing and rubbing. Presses your lips against him once more when the light creaking sound of the door opening interrupts you. Suddenly. Your eyes go wide before you practically push Jimin away from you. In an inhuman speed. So forcefully that he stumbles. Barely catching his balance. You both turn around toward the door in right moment to catch Hoseok enters. Eyes landing on you. Freezing there for a moment since he clearly doesnât expect to see you here. Surprised. You and Jimin do the same. Frozen and staring at your friend dumbly. Only for a moment, though, then Hoseok is smiling. Stepping inside to allow Taehyung to enter after him.
âOh, youâre here? What are you doing?â Taehyung is the one who questions when he notices you and Jimin.
âJimin obviously helped her like the true gentleman he is, while you gaped at her underwear Kim Taehyung. Is that even a question?â Hoseok is the one who answers that question. Only that heâs not looking at Taehyung, but his eyes are on you. And Jimin. Smirking. Oh, he knows. He definitely knows.
âWhat? I couldâve helped her if you didnât drag my ass away.â Ever so clueless Taehyung argues while Hoseok keep his piercing gaze on you. Youâll have to let Jimin know. Specially now since Hoseok caught you for a second time. For now, however, you want to disappear.
âYour coffee, Iâll go and grab itâ You rush past the two men standing at the doorway fast as you can. Hardly catching Taehyung grumbling that he needs a Fizz instead. Apparently, that drink is like coke. You have found out. You only nod without looking back.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ..
Youâve been on edge the entire day. Not surprising that you did. Firstly, youâve been on edge due to how desperately you wanted to go back to Park Jimin. You were practically buzzing with anticipation. Your heart is not slowing down and the fire he lit inside you never dying down. When you went back to him with his coffee, this morning, your horny body and traitorous brain was eagerly hoping to start back from where you stopped. You could have probably. If it wasnât for Emi being inside with him. Not leaving. Politely and awkwardly gaping at you when you bid your time there. Wait and see if she would leave you alone to no avail. In the end, you had no option but to leave. The only thing that happened from that painful encounter was that you became more desperate. Jimin is to blame since he most definitely fucked you with his eyes. Staring at you shamelessly. Expression fucked up.
Then you had to wait till you have your moment again. There wasnât a problem since you normally have plenty of opportunities. Too much in fact that it makes you annoyed. But today, though, there were none. On the very day you wanted to go to Jimin, Hoseok didnât ask you to play his personal delivery service. So, secondly, youâve been on edge due to how Hoseok treated you. His little smirks and curious gazes. Watching you intently. Giving you enough work to busy yourself but never once asking you to go for Jimin. You were pretty sure he knew but you were too afraid to ask. So, you were playing dumb and hopefully waiting to take anything stupid, even a paper clip or stapler, to Jimin when Hoseok asks. He didnât. Not for an entire day. Making you wonder what he was playing at again.
Playing was what he did. For no doubt. It became positive when he decided to make you attend a, according to him- very informal and a little- meeting with one of their very important sponsors. Your presence was not required at all. And it was against the policies. You need to stay away from the company matters. But then there you were. Stupidly sitting there while trying hard not to gape at Jimin. Trying hard to keep your mind not wandering away. Imagining things. The way he would kiss you again. Bite on your lips. The way he would sucks on your neck. Marking. The way he would squeeze your tits. Rolling his thumbs over your nipples. How he would suck on them. How good it would be to see his blonde hair tickling your thighs while he bury his face in your cunt. Kiss your clit and dragging his tongue along your slit. How he would make you warm his cock again. Twitching inside you. Throbbing. Oh, what would you do to have that again. Yet all you had was more desperation. Subtly squeezing your thighs together. All you had was glimpse of Jimin. Nothing more.
And you knew Jimin was struggling too. His eyes told you all. Was distracted through the entire meeting. Had mumble âHuh?â more than twenty times during that sixty-minute-long meeting. Couldnât keep his eyes away from you. Torture. Hoseok had put you in pure torture.
It's pathetic how horny you are now when the day is finally nearing an end. Your mind is going haywire as you wait outside the Hoseokâs office. Resting your ass against his secretaryâs desk. Youâve warmed up to each other finally. He has long gone home. Building is getting isolated slowly. Silence spreading. It would be nice if your mind could go that silent as well. If it can shut up and stop thinking about hundred different ways Jimin can fuck you.
âYou want a ride?â You donât even hear Hoseok leaving his office until his voice erupts next to your ear suddenly. It doesnât even startle you. Too distracted and fucked up. You just hum in reply. âI can take you home if you want to.â Hoseok says again when you just dumbly stare at his face.
Going home? That means this day ends. That means you would not see Jimin again. You would have to wait a day, and youâll die. No. No, you canât wait that long. You want him. Jimin. Fuck you need him. He hasnât left yet now, has he?
âLi?â Hoseok mumbles again. Slowly. Suspiciously. As if heâs not sure whether youâre sick or not. You have no idea since when he started calling you that. Simply you canât care. You just blink at his face for a long minute. Making up your mind. Perking up the moment you do. Excited.
âYou go first. I have something I should take care.â You donât wait for him to reply. Already walking away.
âOh yeah? Good luck with that then.â
Can hear the teasing edge in his voice though.
âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ.
Your mind is repeating one thing and one thing only.
Fuck it!
You need Park Jimin.
Fuck the rest of the world and everyone in it.
Youâre going to fuck Park Jimin.
You donât care anymore. No. Not at all. Youâre breathing hard as you walk toward his office. Your heels clank loudly as you go since itâs all quite inside the building now. Youâre shaking slightly in pure desire when you finally reach his outer office. Seeing Emi has gone already. You donât even take a moment to think about what youâre doing. Nor do you wait to knock on his door either. Just pushing it open without a care when Jimin snaps his head toward you from his computer. His eyes go wide in surprise.
âLil?â Mumbles when youâre already walking forward. You catch him licking his lips. Nervous? Anticipation? Excited? You donât know. As long as he wonât stop you. Youâre fine.
You let your bag fall onto the floor softly. Not giving a double fuck. Do the same to your jacket as well. Are already unbuttoning your button up. You donât care!
This time you know Jimin licks his lips entirely in anticipation. Is looking at you with an open mouth. Breathing already shallow even before you reach him. He turns his chair away from the table so you can directly straddle him without further hassle. He catches you immediately. Welcoming you like youâve come home. Head falling down to your cleavage. Burying his face there and inhaling deeply. Groans.
âI canât Jimin. Fuck, I canât. Want you. Need you to say Fuck it.â You whimper as you keep his head in place. Jimin chuckles.
âI said fuck it a long-ago Lil.â
You say nothing. Just thread your fingers in his hair. Pulling from it to get him face you. Jimin looks surprised at your sudden change. Youâre the one who melts always. The one who waits till he gives you. You donât reach. Well, you normally donât but, youâre just a woman and have limits. And those limits snapped. Yet he says nothing when you nod and pull him into a rough kiss. Whimpering and moaning. Trying to hump your cunt into his crotch urgently. Getting annoyed when your stupid tight skirt is restricting your movements. Jimin takes the hint luckily, pulls the hem of your skirt up. Up through the curves of your ass. Bunching it up on your waist. Now youâre nearly naked on top of him. All the more reasons to be more needy. Feverish. Jimin kneads your ass cheeks. Pulling you into him more. Your aching cunt finally landing on where you want to be. Deliciously dragging along his pants. Driving you crazier. Your fingers leaves his hair to reach his shirt instead. To unbutton him. But he suddenly pulls away. Grabs your hand, stopping you from unbuttoning him.
âW-wait.â Mutters. Your movement falters. Eyes going big. Is he really rejecting you now? Has he changed his mind? The way he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss it tenderly says otherwise, however. âI need you to think.â Says. Voice thick with adoration. Youâre very confused though. Frowning at him. Nothing makes sense to you.
âThink what?â
âIf we do this now baby, youâre fucking stuck with me. You know, like I said, I donât know what I should do. I really donât have a single idea what Iâm going to do. Still, if weâre going to do this, Iâm gonna act like youâre mine.â Jimin rambles. Breathless. And so does he take your breath away as well. âIâm going to be fucking jealous and possessive Lil. Thereâs nothing casual here. Iâm not going to say this is just sex and then watch you go on with other men. No. Iâm gonna be so fucking annoying to you.â He presses his forehead against yours. You feel like your heart is about to explode from your chest. Why does this feel like a confession. âEven though, Iâm in no position to do so. Well, I- I know this is so wrong to say bu- but I just canât go and break up with- you know, itâs complicatedââ
You stop him. By squeezing his hand. Just give him a few nods. Itâs not like you came here for anything more. Despite the way you feel your heart breaks at his word. The painful realization of youâre never going to be the first, dawning on you. Youâll be the hidden secret behind closed doors and drawn curtains. But itâs okay. You donât expect more. Youâre already cursed. Cursed to be in this position with this man. So, you let him know you understand. Jimin brings his free hand to cradle your cheek. With the back of his hand. Softly.
âSo, I need you to think Lil. Iâm not going to let you go. Even though I have no right, Iâm going to act like I do. Iâm gonna say youâre mine, and mine only. Itâs not fair baby. You donât deserve that shit. Iâve already made your life a mess. I donât want to drag you deeper into this shit. So, maybe this is not the right time to ask but think baby, be sure.â
You pull away from him. To get a better look at his eyes. Feeling torn between emotional and horny. See, Jimin is the most selfish jerk youâve ever met. He doesnât want to drag you deeper into this mess. No. He wants you to walk into that mess. Hand in hand. Selfish. Too fucking selfish. The imperfect Park Jimin. Just a human. And oh, how heâs perfect in your eyes. How youâre not feeling any anger. Remorse. How obsessed youâre with him.
âThis is not just casual?â You finally ask after keeping him on edge for minutes.
âNo. Youâre only mine.â Jimin shuffles in the seat making your half bare chest presses against his clothed one.
âThen what about, uh.. what? Liya? Do you do this withââ
âNo. No I havenât for so long and I donât think I will again. Not whenââ He doesnât complete his sentence. Instead puts his hands on your thighs. Slowly rubbing. You arch into his touch. Shivering. âLil?â Gives you a fleeting kiss. Is looking at you hopefully.
Well, it is just like you think. Youâre the one behind the curtains. Liyaâs the one who will live life out there. The answer you give will determine whether you want to become that person. The mistress you refused to become. But you canât lie to yourself. Despite how hard it hurts; you love it when Jimin said youâre his. You love that he is jealous. Simply you will never get to say or feel those things in return. Thatâs it. And youâre fine. Fine as long as he would give you this. Not sex. No. Being with you this way even as a secret.
âI want you, Park.â You say sternly. No wavering in your voice. Clear and precise. Making Jiminâs breath hitch. He breathes out shakily.
âAre you sure?â Yet he asks again. âIâm not going to share you.â
âYes. Iâm sure.â
âYouâre not going to kick my ass later when Iâm annoying you, will you?â Thereâs such a glint his eyes that makes your heart swell. You chuckle breathlessly. Nudge his nose with yours.
âI think Iâll love it when you annoy my ass.â
âYeah?â
 âYeah, will you please fuck me now? I- Iâm justââ
âI knowâ Jimin whispers. Saves you from having to explain your desperation. Pulls you into another tender kiss. And thatâs all it take. Youâre practically savoring each other. Swallowing each otherâs moans and humping like horny rabbits. You finally being able to unbutton his shirt at the right moment he stands up. Picking you up with him. The surprised shriek you make is yet again muffled by him. He puts you down on his table. Easily. Like youâre a doll. Your skirt is still bunched up in your waist and your shirt open. You prop onto your elbows to keep your balance when Jimin urges your legs apart. Cursing loud.
âShit!â Bends down to catch your lips in a kiss again. âYou have a fucking pretty pussy Lil.â Informs you before he straightens again. Just to peer at your cunt. âTake your tits out for me princess.â
Youâre quick to comply. Pulling your bra down to reveal your hard nipples. He smiles in approval. Doesnât touch them though. Ghosts his fingers over your cunt. Leaving barely there touches that gets you bucking your hips desperately.
âEager, are we?â Taunts you.
âOh, please Jimin you have no idea, how much I- oh god.â A gentle press in your clit makes your words turn into a moan.
âAnd you think I havenât. I was rock hard all day. All because I couldnât get this cunt out from my mind.â Jimin clicks his tongue. Gets you slightly jumpy when he hooks a finger inside your underwear. Curling it around the material. Forming a thin line out of the fabric. You watch him curiously and breathlessly. He just gently tugs the fabric up. In a way that it perfectly presses against your swollen nub. Your ass nearly laves the tabletop as you hurriedly grabs his wrist.
âNo, no, I will cum Jimin. I canât.â
âSo, go ahead. Cum.â Jimin smirks sinfully before pulling the fabric down. You tremble. Then he pulls it up again. This time a bit harder than before. Not enough for you to hurt. Just enough to feel the pressure of it pressing against your clit. Keeps it there. Then down again. Up. Then down. With every tug Jimin making sure to rub the soft material on your clit good. Deliciously. Over and over again. Massaging your cunt with it.
âYou gonna cum already princess?â He coos while youâre slowly starting to tense up your body. Hands frantically and blindly searching for purchase on something. To hold onto something to keep you sane.
âYeah? You do? I havenât even touched you baby. And youâre already coming? Look how much youâre dripping on to my table.â Jiminâs eyes are glued to your cunt. Doing a damn great job. Creates a perfect amount of pressure in your slit. All you can do is whimper. Moan. Spread your legs further. Allowing him to play with you all the much he want. âAll Iâm doing is tugging at your panties and youâre going to cum? Youâre that desperate for me?â He shifts his gaze from your sloppy cunt to your face. Leans forward. Kisses you sloppily. Trails his hips down to your chin and then throat. Mouth into your skin. Getting drunk on you. Your smell. Pulls away to peek at your face, searching for something. Is making sure his words are not too much. You just know him. Nothing to be surprised anymore. You just nod. Greenlight. Jimin dips down again. This time to take one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. Sucking and gently biting. Pays equal attention to the other one, all the while his hand doesnât stop rubbing your own underwear in your cunt. Pops your tit out of his mouth.
âYou look so good spread out on my fucking office desk Lil. You look fucking gorgeous. Such a good slut hm? Fucking desperate. Do you realize youâre whoring yourself for me?â Fills your ears with filth. âBe a good girl and cum. You can cum like this, right? All you need is anything to touch your slutty clit. And youâre going to be a good slut and cum for me hard. Go onâ Tugs a little hard on the fabric that is rubbing against your slit. Your head is spinning. Your body is tensing up. Tears start to blur your sight. And then that knot is exploding. Your back arching and your hands giving up on keeping you propped. âYeah, like that. Cum baby, cum for me.â You fall back on your back. Accidentally, knocking something on Jiminâs desk to the floor. About which neither of you care. Jimin keeps rubbing your clit to drag your high as long as he can. Only stopping when you wince but you can already feel him tugging your panty down. Forcing you to open your eyes which you didnât know you had closed. You raise your head hardly to catch him fall down on to his knees.
âJ-Jimin.â You straighten up immediately. At the right moment, Jimin buries his face between your thighs. Causing them to shake. âHoly fuck, it- itâsââ
âMore Lil. You can. You can cum more for me. Want to make you cum till you canât anymore. Câmon again.â His words make your cunt vibrate. He wastes no time in starting to drag his tongue over and over your slit. Repeatedly. Working you up again within mere seconds. Latches his lips into your clit while peek up at you. He looks drunk. Just like the day at the cottage. This is exactly how fucked up and drunk he looked.
Fuck!
You canât. This one is going to be even faster. Especially, since Jimin is ravishing on your cunt like a mad man. Loud embarrassing, slurpy noises filling the air. And then youâre really a goner when he slips a finger inside your quavering hole without any notice. You squeak. Press your cunt more into his face.
âYes, oh god yes, Jiminie donât stop. Iâm c-close, so close, baby I-I mmhmâ
He adds a second finger. Curles. Presses on that spot. You nearly make him suffocate on your cunt when he adds a third. Throwing you over your edge for the second time just as his finger starts to slip inside. He keeps licking and slowly pumping his fingers inside you for couple more minutes. Before standing up fast again. Doesnât even allow a minute for you to catch your breath when heâs back at kissing you. Your own taste spreading across your taste buds. He bites on your lower lip. Looks mad. Eyes all pupils and face flushed.
âMore princess, tell me you can take more. My cock hurts...â
âC-course I c-can Jimin. I-I want you. Want you bad, need your cock inside me. Now please.â
âThatâs my girl.â Jimin pulls away to fumble with his pants. Belt thrown away and undoing the fly. Pulling down his suit pant along with his boxers. Freeing his throbbing cock. Youâll never get used to seeing it. Never will not be aroused at the sight. Never learn not to whimper impatiently when he wraps his slender fingers around the shaft. Mesmerizing. Your mouth is literally watering. Jimin stands between your spread legs. No more teasing, it seems. Is nudging his flushed tip against your sensitive, swollen nub immediately. Makin you both moan.
âI really want to see you choke on my cock baby, but I canât wait anymoreââ Jimin mumbles as he drags his tip across your slit. Rubs it up and down. You tremble in excitement. ââ but you know whatâs good? We can do it the next time. And then again in the next andââ His words are muffled by his clenched teeth when he suddenly thrusts inside you in a one go. ââand next.â Lets out a breath of relief when you scream his name. Hands find purchase on his shirt sleeve. Pulling him closer to you so that his next words are whispered against your lips. âBecause youâre mine, baby. Mine.â He pulls out his cock almost all the way out. âMine.â Thrusts back hard. Splitting you open and stretching you wide. Good. Delicious.
âOh god Jimin. Fuck.â
âSay youâre mine Lil. Say I can do this all the much I want.â Thrust. âTell me.â Thrust. Harder than before the desk rattles under you. Jimin grabs your jaw. Making you look at him. âSay it baby. Say youâre my slut.â He slams inside you. Itâs not that youâre not answering. Simply, your brain isnât working properly. You canât gather coherent thoughts let alone voice them out. âSay it.â He squeezes your cheeks as he slams inside you harder again. Pace slow but hard. Plunging deep inside you every time he moves forward. A tangled noise leaves you as you struggle to find your words.
âY-you- yours Ji-Jimin. Iâm y-your slut. Iâm a-a-all.. oh, fuck.. Iâm yours.â You donât know what youâre saying anymore. They are all just sounds leaving your mouth. Jimin has picked up his speed. Evidently losing control, at your words.
âFuck, thatâs right. Mine. My slut. Gonna take a good care of you baby.â He urges your legs further apart. You give up trying to stay up right. Once again falling down to your back and taking each thrust Jimin gives you graciously. Greedily. Sucking up his cock. Clenching and convulsing around him. Trying to milk him out. His perfect pounding makes his cock head hitting your spot repeatedly. Melting you. Bringing you closer to another climax far too soon. You just need a little push. Sputtering and wailing, you weakly snake your hands between your bodies. Trying to chase that high. You nearly touch the bud when your hand suddenly pushes away. Harsh. Jimin leans over you instantly. Pining your hand next to your head tightly.
âNo touching.â Growls. âJust take it like a good girl.â You suck in a sharp breath. âYeah, fuck like that. Take it all baby. Fucking ahhhh.. take it.â
Youâre pretty sure youâre drooling. His thrusts are turning animalistic. Is pounding you. You can hear him spill more filth, but all are becoming a white mess. Stars appearing behind your closed eyelids. You donât need to touch your clit after all. Your third orgasm hits you like a shockwave. Making you choke on your sobs.
âJimin... Jimin... oh, pleaseâŚâ Youâre crying. Donât even know why youâre begging. Body shaking. Wraps your legs around his waist feebly.
âIâm here baby. Let go. I got you. Like that, gonna cum too princess, shit, youâre squeezing me so tight. Mmhp⌠Fuckââ Jimin grits his teeth tightly as you reluctantly let go if him when he promptly pulls out. Ropes of his seeds shooting across your thigh. âFuck, fuck, fuck.â Jimin keeps cursing. Spilling every last drop he can give into your skin. Until he canât hold it up anymore and nearly collapse on you. Hiding his face on your neck. You know his knees must be wobbly now. You gently thread your fingers in his hair. Softly scraping his scalp when he purr into you. Draws back after couple minutes.
âAre you okay?â Breathes. You just hum in reply. Lying there in bliss. Jimin slowly withdraws from you. Taking the sight of your wrecked figure, covered in his cum. You watch as he reaches for a box of tissues. Grabbing few to clean you up. Almost dab it on your skin when your hoarse voice surprises you both. You donât know what demon has possessed you.
âThatâs such a waste.â Your own eyes go wide when Jimin shifts his eyes to your face.
âJesus, Lil, what?â He knows what youâre implying. You can see his gaze darkening once again. Youâre insatiable, arenât you?
âYour cum.â Your heart is starting to race again.
âYeah? God youâre fucking dirty. What do you want then? Want me to do this?â Jimin throws the tissues away. Doesnât hesitate a bit when he coats two of his fingers with the white substance spilled over your thigh. Doesnât mind a bit when he brings those fingers to your lips. You open them willingly, allowing Jimin to push his fingers inside you. Laps your tongue around them. Humming at the salty taste. Watching how Jimin visibly loses his mind again. He takes his fingers back, just to coat them again in his cum and to feed them to you. And again. You suck them off his fingers each time. Staring to squirm and writh again. But what makes you cry out is when he gathers the remaining of his seed for the fourth time. And instead of pushing his fingers in yours, he puts them inside his mouth. Sucking while looking you dead in the eye. You almost cum again.
âHoly, fuck JiminâŚâ You curse loudly, hips bucking up involuntarily.
âAgain?â Jimin asks the moment heâs done with cleaning his own fingers.
âGod yes.â You nearly jump at him. Pulling him into a frenzied kiss. Opening your legs again without a care. Giving him everything and taking all, you can. You donât care anymore. Not at all. You donât give a fuck about being the secret.
âFuck yes baby.â Jimin mutters as he plunges his already hard cock inside your spent cunt again. âMy pretty slut. Mine.â
You just moan. Pathetic. Yet so good.
Youâre going to live this life. Going to make peace with it. Going to make peace with being the person you are now.
The Other Woman.
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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!
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Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal @datspjm @shakes0peare @butterymin
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Cody Rhodes x Reader
Made of Gold | Chapter Six
I pretended to not be bothered the whole time the girls gossiped and gabbed about their jobs.
Every time I caught Brandiâs eyes cascade over me I simply smiled in her direction. I felt like a politicianâs wife, keeping myself from pressing her intentions.
Cody reappeared, that same smile he flashed, but I could tell his eyes were a storm. The blue suddenly seemed more fogged and his body didnât seem relaxed anymore.
Walking over to him casually, hiding every ounce of excitement to be rescued by him. Offering my lips to his, he pressed his mouth to mine, only deepening the simple peck. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and I instantly knew he noticed his ex.
He went from the Cody I knew who was always making a joke to the Cody the wrestling world knew - a performer.
This kiss was to show her he moved on.
I had nothing against making her jealous. Cody was supposed to be a fling yet here I was riding on his bus, at his job, pretending to be some trophy wife.
âWell, hello to you too.â He was still holding me against his chest, arms tightly around my waist, engulfing me in him.
âSorry, that took forever but we had to go over the entrance and pyro. You okay? They eating you alive?â
Trying not to glance over my shoulder I noticed his eyes shift. âMet your ex girlfriend. She seems nice.â
Cody pulled away enough to lock eyes again. âI didnât even think about her being here. All I thought about was getting the chance to be The American Nightmare here.â
I let him toy with her by using me, the way he let his hands smooth down my ass. âDonât worry about it. We never talked about being exclusive... I canât imagine this life promotes healthy relationship.â
Maybe I dodged a bullet.
I tried to play it casual and cool, not show my cards when I forced myself to smile even though I knew every part of me was falling for him.
I would never admit the way he noticed her and preformed hurt.
Layla warned me about the connection youâd feel to the person who took your virginity. I didnât believe her until I met the threat of not having him anymore, a gorgeous woman named Brandi.
âBabe,â he didnât add anything after as if he was defeated before he truly spoke.
âItâs okay, Iâm gonna go freshen up on the bus. You do your thing.â I pulled away, keeping my fake smile pasted on and making sure Brandi bought every second of it.
Walking away our hands tethered until our fingers held on until they couldnât. I found my own way back to the bus, yanking the door open, and fell into the bed we hadnât slept in yet.
Sinking into the bed I tried to digest that Cody was boiling down to the fling. I was mentally trying to cut the invisible ties that bonded us but every time I closed my eyes I saw him ravishing me the way a stranger couldnât.
He felt like the only person in the world who knew me. My body, my mind, the person I wanted to be instead of the trauma response I am.
Cody knew every sensitive spot, he knew exactly how much I could take before he sent me over the edge, he knew exactly what I liked when he fucked me.
How could two people fit so well physically and it mean nothing emotionally?
If Cody really wanted Brandi back then I was going to help him do just that just to not lose him. I could settle for friends.
Scrolling on my phone for way too much time I finally dug through my suitcases to find something even more sexy. I wanted to outdo all the designer backstage and I knew Brandi would be watching.
Slipping into a tight black dress that hugged every curve I paired it with thigh high boots I touched up my hair before I proudly walked back into the venue for the start of the live show.
While I got ready I did some research on WWE, who was who, and whatever else I could arm myself with.
The event had came alive, everyone running around and getting ready for their moment to shine. I could hear the fans in the stadium roar as I tried to find Cody.
Simply turning around I felt myself be pulled into a hard body. His lips pressed against mine and I felt myself melt into his arms when I realized the stranger was Cody.
My body knew him before I could even register it.
His mouth so close to mine I could taste him on my lips still, âI donât want her back. I donât know what she said to you but fuck her.â
Wrapping my arms around his neck I tried to find a lie but came up empty. âYou took my virginity but it doesnât mean you have to pick me, Cody. Let me help you. You helped me so much.â
âAre you serious?â
Noticing her walk into view behind him I nudged him making him aware she was watching.
Gently pushing me into a wall behind us I suddenly lost track of her entirely. His eyes got dark with his hands planted against the wall, boxing me in. His tongue crept into my mouth with so much intensity I felt my clit pulse between my legs in response.
His hand swept up between my legs and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. âI donât even have to check⌠I know you arenât wearing panties by the way you want to so badly rub your knees together.â
I licked his neck up to his lips and watched him switch from hungry to starved. My lips covered his ear, whispering, âthatâs perfect, keep going.â
Not removing the hand between my legs only snaked up further until the pads of his fingers clashed with my clit. I clung to Cody like I had no choice.
âDo you need me to prove I only want you by fucking you right here while everyone watches?â
The sharp tone of his voice skated to the bottom of my spine as I tried not to collapse against him.
That authoritative voice that seemed to echo slapped me sober while I hid my face in Cody. âCody, wasnât getting caught once today enough? Iâm gonna send you a fine. Anywhere but my backstage.â
He scolded us enough to have Codyâs hand fall from between my legs but not pull away.
âYouâre ticketing me?â He was looking at me but talking to his boss standing right behind him.
The large man, sporting a slightly weathered look, came closer before responding, hand on his shoulder. âYour ex is standing right over there. You have a bus, use it. Welcome home.â
Cody kissed me again only without his tongue this time he left me a wet mess clinging to the wall for support. âI have a match in twenty. Hang out, get some food, Iâll be quick.â
Shaking my head I nodded, still unable to move as I felt myself vibrate still. I was prepared to just head back to the bus when Brandi stopped me, something I would have anticipated if I wasnât drunk off him still.
âThatâs his MO you know. The girlfriend experience then he dumps you out of nowhere.â Her shrill voice only made it sting worse.
âLet me guess⌠you saw him all over me and the jealous monster sitting on your shoulder told you to warn me. Out of good intentions, right?â I crossed my arms expecting something more than petty remarks from an adult.
Rolling her eyes, âdonât say I didnât warn you. Maybe you should ask him yourself before youâre expected to get an abortion too.â
âOh sweetheart, I already knew you were the ex without him saying one word. You should work on your poker face.â
âDonât pretend his house isnât littered with my things. Did he tell you we were going to get married?â
I crossed my arms, loathing her for ruining my high. âIâll bite - then what?â
Closing the gap between us, she stood right in front of me. âThen his dad died and he left WWE. Cody and I have unfinished business. I suggest you donât get in the way of that.â
Codyâs life choices were making more sense, all the details he left out.
âCling to that unfinished business because itâs the only thing youâre gonna cling to.â
I left her standing there out argued by a seventeen year old when I found myself back on the bus.
Yanking the tight dress like it personally offended me I tried to cool down but every part of me wanted to break things. Pulling over my head an American Nightmare shirt I skipped bottoms in exchange for a lace pair of red panties.
Cuddling up against his pillow I took a deep breath of him.
I must have fallen asleep when Codyâs body bullied mine into turning over on my back. Kisses covering my face and chest messily when I heard him whisper, âI have to be inside you baby. Iâm addicted.â
Still shaking off the fact that I was just sleeping I felt his hands push up my shirt up enough to enjoy my lace panties.
Lazy, sleepy, moans escaped my mouth.
âMy shirt and now these? Are you trying to kill me?â
Shaking my head yes I let my legs fall apart just for him to fill the space, not before tugging my panties down my legs. Out of his torn shirt and wrestling pants he smelled like fresh soap. His hair was still wet when I let my fingers smooth through his locks.
Reaching for the night stand, he fished around the random objects crashing against the sides of the drawer. âFuck,â he exhaled sitting back between my legs. âIâm out of condoms baby.â
âI donât care, Cody.â
Leaning up, meeting him more than half way, my mouth nipped at his. Feeling empowered by how heavily he was breathing I flipped over, pushing my ass into his crotch and letting my hands press against his bed.
Every hard inch wedged against my ass, his hands smooth up my shirt to cup my tits.
âYouâre gonna let me fill up this tight pussy? Already so wet for me.â He groaned the words out and his hand guided himself to my entrance. Pushing my ass back on him, I exhaled at the familiar stretching as he filled the void between my legs.
I couldnât help but moan while my hands fisted the sheets. Bucking his hips I quickly got use to his size all over again like he hadnât been stretching me out to accommodate every thick inch for months now.
Muffling my moans I buried my face in the pillows as our bodies collided over and over.
âWhat a good girl⌠fuck⌠so fucking tight.â
Grinding my ass back into him, out of breath I moaned through my words. âItâs too big, Cody. Iâm gonna come.â
Not releasing my nipples, I continued to squirm against him like it would provide any relief. âI know baby, taking this big cock so well. Tell me youâre mine.â
âWhat?â I gasped without realizing it.
âTell me who you belong to. Tell me youâre mine.â
Throwing my ass back, I nearly came undone at how it felt to ride Cody this way. I could feel my legs shaking every time I pulled forward only to impale myself again.
He was giving me every ounce of control over him and it felt overwhelming. He was strong in ways I admired and yet I was bringing him to his knees with my pussy.
âCody,â I whimpered completely compliant to his demands. I was his whether I liked it or not.
âJust like that.â The grit in his voice told more than looking over my shoulder couldnât. I could tell his jaw was clenched in anticipation, his eyes closed, and the way the veins decorated his muscles before he came.
My cheek pressed against the cold covers, I moaned through the orgasm cascading over me.
Every muscle in my body stilled as the orgasm rocked through me and I felt out of control.
Codyâs hands grasped around my hips and smoothed up my back. âGod damn. I could fuck you for forever.â
Collapsing next to me in the queen sized bed in the back of the bus splattered with his name I crawled over his chest, letting my arm rest over him. âForever is a long time. Youâll be an old way before me.â
Choking on his laughter he tried to tickle me but I but could feel the exhaustion pouring out of him.
âIâm serious.â
âI donât have expectations, Cody. You donât have to woo me.â Casually snatching the water bottle from the night stand I took a swig while he sat up against the headboard.
âWhat did she say to you?â The playfulness drained from his expression.
âThat didnât sway me, Cody.â
He repeated himself only this time it was much more intense while I watched his fists ball up. âThat you were supposed to be getting married⌠slick comments about abortions and you dumping girls after you get your girlfriend experience fix.â
âWow. What a fucking, bitter, bitch. She tried to trap me in getting her pregnant then my father died. I went off the deep end and we broke up. End of story.â I could tell he didnât want to truly talk about it even though he asked.
Leaning against the headboard I could feel our shoulders brush, âhow long did you date her?â
His head fell to the side and I watched his eyes scan up to mine. âLong enough. A year.â
I exhaled in the form of a wow. Cody had ex-girlfriends, of course, but knowing the details made it hurt worse.
âCome on, youâve had boyfriends.â His face got close to mine and I felt his hand smooth over my bare ass. âMaybe not like that⌠but I can still be jealous too.â
Straddling his lap slowly I placed my hands on his shoulders. âIâve had boyfriends, of course, but no pregnancy scares or rings on my finger.â
His eyes were foggy again and his strong hands held my hands behind my back enough for me to welp out-loud. âI can tell by the way ride my tongue that someoneâs ate that pussy before. I can tell by the way you wrap that hand around me itâs not the first time youâve touched someone. You donât have to engaged or almost pregnant for me to be jealous that some boy has touched you. Itâs gonna happen, I just wanna be the last man to fuck you.â
Our mouths collided when he finally loosened his grip on my wrists. Practically falling into him I felt my hips sway on top of him without meaning to.
Whimpering through our kisses I asked, âWhen does it stop feeling like this? I canât help it.â
I could feel my legs shake and my body go up in flames. I was turned on so easily still and nothing extinguished that need for him.
âYou wanna come again baby? This greedy pussy needs more?â His lips pressed soft kisses down my neck.
I shook my head yes knowing my pussy was already soaked from his dirty words and the way his hands were up my shirt. I was a mess for Cody, in every way you could be.
He was going to break my heart and I was gonna ignore every warning sign.
REQUESTED TAGS:
@alyyaanna
#fanfic#fanfiction#wwe fanfiction#wwe#cody rhodes x reader#cody rhodes imagine#cody rhodes fanfic#cody rhodes fanfiction#cody rhodes
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vent-ish.. content warnings: system dormancy / trauma talk / tacomic & paco (mentioned)
note to self. apparently, alters can and will force themselves into dormancy if/when they feel too stressed about things. including alters who have important roles.
including the host.
i���m sorry, taco. iâm sorry you felt so unwanted by the world. that you felt like no one would ever accept you⌠you deserved to feel safe and comfortable. you shouldnât have had to force yourself into dormancy because of what people have said about your source selfâ you arenât her, even if youâre still source attached.
i know it was stressful to hear so many horrible things about you. to hear people call you an abuser, say you deserve to die, saying you shouldnât be allowed to live a normal life, so much hate and pressure was pushed onto you⌠i know you were hurting. i know what terrifying things you remembered happening in your childhood and i feel so terrible for you. no child should ever be put through so much just to get blamed for their natural response to the trauma⌠you werenât even 13 when your family was doing horrible horrible things to you. physically and mentally, itâs not a surprise you turned out how you did.
and i know you loved pickle. you loved mic, too. and you thought you could never find anyone who would accept you for that, but trust when i say there are so many people out there who support who you were.
you were from a world where everyone hated you and even in this world had to feel like that was the case⌠i know iâm saying this a lot but i really am sorry. iâm so, so, so sorry and i hope you come back soon.
because weâre falling apart without you in charge.
-marshmallow(âŞď¸)
#vent ish#but also not really#i just want her to come back#she was so stressed about the people who hate her#she felt unsafe#as if someone would yell at her simply for her source#she hardly even got to make any friends despite being the host#she thought this world and life would be a second chance#she knew people didnt like her and#assshe was so rtstrong at first#imnsorry taco#you deserved better than the trash you were forced to experience#in source and in real life you#younwere bput frough so much and you were never given the opportunity to prove#to prove yourself#traumagenic system#system#system vent#how do i cope with the host going dormant#no one in our system knows what to do now without her#do not invalidate our experiences as a system we can and will block you
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love the idea of transhet laios
#random thoughts#dungeon meshi#chilchuck watches in horror as laios slowly animorphs into his second wife#'he didn't have a second wife?' not yet babeyyy#i am neutral verging on negative on trans chilchuck (negative being mainly because i see it everywhere)#i don't like it when people take the male character who looks the youngest and make him trans like 'well duh'#so he's cis to meee. and bisexual but quiet about it in the same way he's quiet about literally everything else about him#he knows what being trans is because one of his daughters is trans :] flertom#the way she treated her transition was throwing herself headfirst into gender roles like wanting to get married and worrying about her look#which laios definitely won't do (she was horrified when she saw how she would have stayed in the village and had a family in the au viewer)#but it'd be interesting to see chilchuck try to be supportive by encouraging her to try traditionally feminine things#which laios wouldn't be very interested in and probably wouldn't be able to connect the dots on her own that he's trying to be supportive#so she'd just be like. questioning why chilchuck keeps getting her weird gifts#pink and frilly and aaaaaaa#probably use some of the gifts for weird things. uses a sewing kit for taxidermy.#appreciates the new baking supplies probably#he gets her a journal which she genuinely uses#chilchuck seeing how she reacts to his gifts and knowing she doesn't get what he's doing but he's not gonna open up about it#so here have some more stuff until you get the point#btw this is unrelated but does anyone else think it's weird it's marcille who was able to put herself into the shoes of chilchuck's wife?#like she literally viewed him as a child for the longest time but now she's miss empathy???#honestly i think it'd've made more sense if laios did it? like how he put together the cannibalism thing#like i know he's not good with social cues but it could have been a chance to demonstrate how well he knows chilchuck#laios in another life would be the world's greatest detective
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Thinking here about the theory that Gold were originally from the future of Blaze's dimension...
That would be soooo sad and tragic: She didn't only spent over a decade out of her birth dimension, she spent â
of her life out of her "home" dimension, she was raised in this other dimension so that's the place she can call home, no hope of ever return to her original world because in the last time she saw her original world, it was being frozen at time, being petrified in an expression of terror for eternity, entirely by a huge and powerful monster.
Onyx City is, with all its defects, the home she knows that is not destroyed and beyond salvation. The place where she built lasting and solid memories, the world she adapted to live in, the home that there's a hero to protect...
At this point, she has no reason to look for a way to fix her original world, and even if it was possible, she has no reason to go back...
Meanwhile someday the Genesis Portal take the Team Psych to Blaze's world... And so? That world is nothing like the few she remembers, she wouldn't recognize... She would never be able to learn that this beautiful world full of life she's standing in for this moment will be, in a couple of centuries foward, the stage of the apocalypse that she witnessed around 10 years ago... She will NEVER know...
"Wow Silver, this friend of yours lives in a pretty nice kingdom around here." THIS KINGDOM WILL BE EITHER FROZEN IN A EXPRESSION OF TERROR OR DEVOURED FROM THE TIMELINE IN ABOUT 2 CENTURIES!!! But you'll never know...
Unless some Blaze's descendant around in the future is able to harness the power of the Sol Emeralds, so is able to fight back the Second Devourer... What means that the time passed there as well and everyone she knew learned to live without her...
Anyway, in either scenarios an adaptation would be hard and could be seem as "pointless": In a hand, if they couldn't fight back at first and the world just could be restored now, the time has not passed to them, Gold changed a LOT and is basically a stranger to these people that she remembers near to nothing about; In other hand, in case they could fight back and defeat the beast, this whole world might have changed too much from the few she could recall, nobody and nothing is the same as she can remind even if it's vaguely...
In both hands, she has already adapted to call Onyx City "home", the people she knows and learned to trust live in there...
#idk what's my point at first i though 'wow this would be simultaneously as tragic as funny' and as wrote down I realized it's only tragic...#all the funny part was supported only by the thought 'imagine if somehow they learn that would be quite awkward to tell Blaze haha'-#-WHAT WAS ME THINKING?!!?#that's only more angsty! imagine you learn that the world you protect with your life will inevitably destroyed soon...#nobody will be there to protect it... everyone will be terrified until the last second...#also considering Gold as Silver's equivalent as Blaze is Sonic's equivalent... so Gold wad supposed to be the time traveler of that dimensio#but then she was attacked before she could be properly ready and so this portal just sucked her out erasing the lil chances that world-#-still had... actually the whole time devourer thing condemned that world... that anomaly was the only thing the time traveler couldn't-#-survive to or fight against... at least not by the time... maybe a trained Gold could control the beast's mind and send it away...#okay now we finished#Gold the tenrec#blaze the cat#sol dimension#thank you for your time#and for read my rambling#only tragedy... geez...#now i'm imagining how Gold would deal with the things she would have to change in the past if she assumed the time traveler role...#for sure she would count more on get cooperation than try to tackle it recklessly like somebody#the cooperation would have to be from Blaze (I swear it's not my Goldaze side speaking) unless you're considering some Shadow counterpart-#-in the play... what would mean some dadow equivalent?!?! (dadow side speaking loud) it gives me sooo many ideas đ¤Łđ¤Ł#soo sad I'll never elaborate none#sorry for these monstrosities called tags
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Unmistakably Yours - G.S.
Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what heâs always wanted to do - you.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fĂngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, crĂŠampie, spitting, overstim, fĂŠral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 4.5k
A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.
Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.
He was going to kill someone and it didnât matter who. It didnât matter how. It didnât even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.
Because you werenât here.
âAh. The oh-so deadest one, I see youâre awake.â Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left.Â
Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shokoâs voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you?Â
With a low hiss, Satoruâs body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-
âCalm down, Satoru.â Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. âI donât care if youâre the âstrongestâ. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-â
âWhere is she?â
---
It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that youâd written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse.Â
Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friendâs closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew heâd be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything.Â
Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly.Â
One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.
Heâll be okay. Heâll be okay. Heâll be okay. Heâs the strongest, right?
Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere.Â
God, you shouldâve stayed. What if Satoru-
That was when you felt it.Â
The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe.Â
You donât know how you realize what it is - but you donât get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words.Â
Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.
âMy love?â
Satoru.
It was a miracle that you didnât get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didnât trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought.Â
Hell, you donât think youâve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasnât quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go.Â
All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own.Â
A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back.Â
âS-Satoru?â you murmur wetly, as if you still couldnât believe it - even when you were in his strong arms.Â
It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasnât any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didnât mind, why would you?Â
Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And itâs only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru.Â
âYouâre here.â you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if heâd run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoruâs face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you werenât locked in his arms killed him.Â
He doesnât answer - like he didnât know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-
Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.
Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.
You just wondered where theyâd pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoruâs eyes were anything to go by.Â
Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didnât look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend.Â
âAre you okay?â you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. âToru?â
Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoruâs jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core.Â
Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. âMy love.â
There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra.Â
Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoruâs broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.
Shit. Heâs lost it.
Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didnât care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you.Â
Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.
Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, âYâcan kill me if you donât want this.â Will you go down - if thereâs anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored oneâs descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?
Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, âNo God can take me away without doing this.â Will it be something else entirely?
And then heâs kissing you - and youâre kissing him.Â
Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all youâve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.
The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that youâd have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.
But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.
Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.
It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.
Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-
âToru!â you squeal, muffled through his lips. âArenât you-â His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldnât help himself. âBattlefield- mmpf- now?â
With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hairâs breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe youâd have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker.Â
âSpecial curtain.â he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. âTime barely passes in here.â
You donât know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, âEveryoneâs waiting for you.â
âSo?â Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now.Â
âBut-â
âShut up and let me ruin you, my love.â
Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoruâs bed.
Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. âDid- did you just teleport us?â
âDonât know.â he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didnât know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. âDonât care.â
And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down.Â
Rip!
It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way heâs just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity.Â
He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, heâs pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor.Â
âWaited too long.â he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. âAlways wanted to do this.â And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldnât stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, âEver since I first saw you and oh-â
That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and youâre back to wondering what Satoruâs kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, â-canât believe I waited this long.â
Shit. You werenât making it out alive.
Immediately, Satoruâs dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts.Â
And it was so unfair.Â
Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were.Â
And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoruâs tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt.Â
Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used.Â
And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lilâ cunt. To finally drink in what heâs been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, thatâs for later - for a different Satoru, one that didnât feel like he was going to fucking die if he didnât taste you right now.Â
âAh! Hngh- T-Toru-â you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldnât stop.
âThaâs right.â words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. âGimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.â
He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you.Â
And itâs all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything.Â
âFuck. Sâtoo deep. Sh-shit.â
âOh yeah?â heâs grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. âSânot deep enough.â
You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance.Â
But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.
Because Satoruâs swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier.Â
âNo.â he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. âNeed this- need you.â
And then heâs plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.
You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close.Â
âToru-â you moan, like a prayer.Â
But it wasnât fast enough.Â
Not for Satoru, at least.
Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-
That cheat.Â
You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard.Â
Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time.Â
âShit, ngh-â you let out a shrill moan, âItâs too good. Youâre so fucking-âÂ
One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth.Â
Hard enough that you were sure itâd leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything.Â
Desperate. Violent, even.
So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. âFuck- mâcumming mâcumming, fuck fuck fuck-â Youâre shaking as you cum, crying out Satoruâs name and delirious little moans that youâd otherwise be embarrassed of.Â
And he doesnât stop. Not when youâre blinking your vision back. Not when youâre shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue.Â
âSâtoo much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.â you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes.Â
Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And itâs only driving him wild.Â
Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, itâs really on you then.Â
You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time.Â
You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. âSatoru-â
âNo.â Satoruâs tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. âNeed this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-â
âBut yourâŚâ you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum.Â
He was soâŚmassive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.
Yeah, you definitely werenât making it out alive.Â
Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before heâs spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice.Â
And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he couldâve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick.Â
God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy.Â
And then you feel like youâre been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. Heâs barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like heâs pushing all the way into your lungs.Â
âT-Toru.â you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. âCan feel you so deep inside ngh- I donât think I canâŚâÂ
âNo no no no no-â heâs panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. âNeed this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-â
âBut-â
God, Satoru canât help but kiss you - to shut those cute lilâ whines up more than anything, heâs sure heâll cum right there and right now if he didnât.Â
Because Satoru wasnât any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him.Â
Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that itâs a wonder it doesnât break.Â
It does - and later youâll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. Itâs just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoruâs cock pushing inside you. Youâre clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks.Â
âShit- yâgot this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-â he canât even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.
He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldnât have it any other way.Â
Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.
Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didnât have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.
âDonât you run away.â he grunts at the way youâre so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- âWaited twelve fucking years for this. Nâ mâgonna take it.â
You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. âSâtoo good, Toru. Wanâ more-â
âMore.â Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. âYâwant more even when youâre filled to-â He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. âHere?â
âYes.â you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. âAlways wanted more. Always have, Toru.â
And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face.Â
If you werenât so cockdrunk maybe youâd have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting.Â
âAlways, huh?â heâs muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. âWanted more like me?â Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.
And this time, he doesnât even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. âMore more more more- fuckinâ take it then.â
At this point you didnât know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or youâd just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow.Â
Well, they would have if Satoru hadnât been using reversed cursed technique. But you didnât need to know that just yet.Â
âSatoru-â you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  âIâmâŚâ
âClose?â Satoruâs grunting, smacking his lips against your own.
Itâs laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.
âYeah, so close. Wanâ cum- Ah! Please-â
âThen cum. Fucking cum, wanâed this so bad.â heâs babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. âYeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-â
And then you are. So sudden and hard that you donât even realize it at first. Just that youâre seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoruâs like such a slut.Â
Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it.Â
Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and heâs cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he canât seem to stop. Doesnât want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg itâs too much. Until youâre yelling for-
âMercy!â you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. âPlease, Toru-â
Satoru lets out a slight gasp, âMercy?â Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, âNo mercy, my love. None at all.â
And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.
Pretty. Always so fucking pretty.Â
And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.
Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew heâd said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesnât mind.
âLove you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.â You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. âTo ruin you.â
It was oozing out of you, both Satoruâs cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind.Â
âSo do it.â The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, âRuin me. Youâre the- ngh- only- one fâme, Toru. Always was.â
The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain.Â
And then itâs black.Â
---
âIâll be back before ya know it, my love.â he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. âGotta pest to take care of.â
Taking down that curtain wasnât the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so.Â
And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.
Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?
âNâ when Iâm back, mâgonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows youâre unmistakably mine.â
A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel?Â
Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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When Tina Turner left her first husband - who was also her boss, captor, and brutal tormentor - she snuck out of their Dallas hotel room with a single thought in her mind: "The way out is through the door." From there she fled across the midnight freeway, semi-trucks careening past her, with 36 cents and a Mobil gas card in her pocket. As soon as she decided to walk out that door, she owned nothing else. When she filed for divorce, she made an unusual request. She didn't want anything: not the song rights, not the cars, not the houses, not the money. All she wanted was the stage name he gave her - Tina - and her married name - Turner. This was the name by which the world had come to know her, and keeping it was her only chance to salvage her career. Things could have gone a lot of ways from there. She could have labored in obscurity for decades, maybe making records on small labels to be prized by vinyl connoisseurs in Portland. She could have stayed in Vegas, where she first went to get her chops back up, and worked as a nostalgia act. And, of course, given what she had been through, she might have ⌠not made it. What happened instead is that Tina Turner became the biggest global rock star of the 80s. I'm old enough to barely remember this, but if you aren't, it was like this: The Rolling Stones would headline a stadium one day, and the next day it would be Tina Turner. A middle-aged Black woman - she became a rock star at 42! - sitting atop the 1980s like it was her throne. She managed this because of whatever rare stuff she was made of (this is a woman whose label gave her two weeks to record her solo debut, Private Dancer, which went five times platinum); because she decided to speak publicly about her abusive marriage and forge her own identity, and in doing so give hope and courage to countless women; and also because - in a perhaps unlikely twist for a girl from Nutbush, Tennessee - she had her practice of Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism, to which she credited her survival. She remained devout until the end. Tina's second marriage - to her, her only marriage - was to Edwin Bach, a Swiss music executive 16 years her junior. Of him, she said, "Erwin, who is a force of nature in his own right, has never been the least bit intimidated by my career, my talents, or my fame." In 2016, after a barrage of health problems, Tina's kidneys began to fail. A Swiss citizen by then, she had started preparing for assisted suicide when her husband stepped in. According to Tina, he said, "He didn't want another woman, or another life." He gave her one of his kidneys, buying her the remainder of her time on this earth and perhaps closing a cycle which took her from a man who inflicted injury upon her to a man willing to inflict injury upon himself to save her from harm. Born into a share-cropping family as Anna Mae Bullock in 1939, she died Tina Turner in a palatial Swiss estate: the queen of rock 'n roll; a storm of a performer with a wildcat-fierce voice; a dancer of visceral, spine-tingling potency and ability; a beauty for the ages; a survivor of terrible abuse and an advocate for others in similar situations; an author and actress; a devout Buddhist; a wife and mother; a human being of rare talent and perseverance who, through her transcendent brilliance, became a legend.
Credit: Will Stenberg
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âepiphanyâ | 21k
worst!logan howlett x f!reader
SUMMARY: Superheroes and mutants werenât enough. Noâthe universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the âWorstâ Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.
OR What happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ strangers to lovers. drinking. cursing. slow burn. angst. pining. mentions of alcohol. fluff. reflecting on the art of writing/poems/books. dual POV. takes place after the events of âdeadpool & wolverineâ. TW: multiple descriptions of scars. worst/variant!logan. implied age gap (readerâs in her late 20s). theyâre both touch starved. wadeâs everyoneâs friend. miscommunication/misunderstandings. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering, grinding. some slight hair pulling. unprotected p in v, creampie. sex with feelings.
A/N: HOPELESS ROMANTICS RISE! here we go again with another long ass fic. this is a soulmates AU in which you get your soulmateâs scars. if you feel triggered by this topic, please refrain from reading. i had a lot of fun writing this even though it took me a while to get it done. thanks to @lubdubology for being my beta and allowing me to share my work with you. and also thanks to @brushworth for giving me the chance to write this. having said this, enjoy the story! iâd love to know your thoughts on it <3
Love giveth and love taketh away.
To this day, itâs still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.
If it werenât for love, you wouldnât be here. No one would, actually. Human beings are the result of billions of people who loved each other just enoughâor at least long enough to bring life into the world.
But isnât it in the name of love that people act in bad faith? Why would something so pure be used in vain?
You donât get it, but as the years go by, you slowly come to terms with the idea that perhaps you never will. Not because there isnât a reason, but because youâre in love with the idea of love.
How could you not be? Itâs on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees youâtruly sees your longing for itâit flees, and you struggle to keep up.
Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.
It had always been a relentless race, your only worry being to catch it before time ran out. But with each day that passed, the finish line only stretched further and further away. Now, they all blur together, to the point where you live and breathe on autopilot.Â
In a Jane Austen novel, youâd be considered a lone woman. That character whoâs nice, and kind, and loved by some, but not in the way she yearns for. Every time sheâs mentioned, you go âOh, the poor girl,â until the slow realization dawns.
In reality, sheâs you, and itâs you who you feel sorry for, not a fictional character. You.
All in all, love giveth. And love also taketh away.Â
Love maketh you miserable.
Soulmatesâa nine-letter word that holds so much meaning.
Itâs one of those words that you learn early in your life, one you hear at home or on the TV. Your parents never fail to mention it if given the chance. The first time youâre introduced to the topic is at school when you're older, a bit more self-conscious, and no longer preoccupied with picking your nose.
âEverybody has a soulmate. And no,â your teacher had added after a pause, already anticipating the inevitable questions from any curious 10-year-old, âthere isnât such a thing as not having one. We all do. You just have to search for them.â
Back then, that had been your favorite gameâalways keeping an eye open, scanning the crowd more than once in new places. You knew for sure that more than one person probably thought youâd strained your neck from all the times you glanced over your shoulder.
It must be pretty obvious now, the fact that youâreâwell, alone. Saying âwithout a companionâ sounds quite outdated. They canât see through you, but something in the way you walk or speak must give it away.Â
Or is it the fact that you always ask for a table for one?
âAre you expecting someone else?â A waitress approaches you, her tone gentle as she makes sure youâre on your own. A small notebook dangles from her slender fingers, and your eyes catch the name stitched onto her apron: Emily.
The response you give her is on the verge of sounding automatic, robotic even, like one of those prerecorded messages busy people leave on their phones. âNo. Just me.â
She nods, and you feel the sympathy in her gaze. Youâve mastered the art of recognizing that lookâthe one hovering between concern and pity.
Of course, people rarely voice it, but theyâll never know their eyes sometimes say more than they think.
As she jots down your order, youâre met with the ring on her left hand. Very pretty, very shiny. Very expensive as well. Your attention must linger on it a little too long, because she catches you staring, making you feel exposed.
Emilyâyou decide to call her that way from now on, because once you know her name, it feels odd to address her as the waitressâoffers you a shy smile.
âIâm getting married next month,â she blurts out, happiness radiating from her pores. Her eyes glint like two lanterns in a starless night. She also looks younger than you, and the abrupt silence forces you to pinch your wrist, a reminder of the fact that this is a conversation, and not just something you're overhearing.
âCongratulations,â you manage to reply, returning the smile. If she saw how your expression faltered the second she walked away, you wonder if sheâd still think you were so amiable.
Sometimes, your façade slipsâyou canât help it. Thatâs what the âhopelessâ in âhopeless romanticâ stands for.
Some minutes later, she comes back with your coffee, and you catch another glimpse of the ring as it twinkles in front of you. Envy doesnât suit you, so you shift your focus.
Taking out your laptop, you scroll through the latest headlines. This is your attempt at acting more like an adult and less like a girl in her mid-twenties who has no clue what sheâs doing.
One article stands out from the rest: Hollywood Actress Divorces Loving Husband of 25 Years to Pursue Presumed Soulmate. âI saw his scars and knew he was the one.â
Interesting. You canât help but feel sorry for the displaced husband, though.
âGood for you,â you mutter under your breath, clicking the link to read more. Thereâs a picture of the actress and her new boyfriend that makes you stop dead in your tracks: theyâre smiling at each other, their faces close, noses almost touching, while they show off their matching scarsâthe unmistakable sign that theyâre, in fact, soulmates.
Soulmates, superheroes, mutants. It all sounds like a whole lot, doesnât it? Overwhelming, to say the least. One thingâs for sureâyouâll never get bored in this world.
But, hey! Donât forget that there are multiple universes out there. Maybe in one of them, youâre not this pathetic.
Why are you being so hard on yourself? Thatâs not even the point. Shaking your head, you keep glancing at their scarsâtheyâre identical, perfect mirrors of one another. The kind of scars that only two destined souls share.
Their happiness is evident, tangible. You can feel it by just eyeing the image. Itâs a bitter sensation that metamorphoses into a warmth, which heavily spreads through your chest, filling up every empty space it finds.Â
To say you understand that feeling would be a downright lie. And you may be many things, but a pathological liar is not one of them.
As if on cue, you duck your head, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket. You do the same with your shirt, foolishly hoping to find something other than smooth, unmarked skin.
No scars. No marks. No sign of a soulmate, of a lover. In the world you inhabitâthis universe full of the most inexplicable thingsâyouâre alone.Â
Without a second thought, you pack your things, shoving them rapidly into your bag. The cafe feels too little and too large all at once, the walls closing on you.
The rest of the customers are looking at you. Fuck, they already noticed itâyou canât escape it.
Have they? Do you think they see you like you see yourself? The lone woman who writes poems for an addressee who will never read them?
In silence, you hand Emily the money for your coffee. You fear that if you open your mouth, a cry will come out, and thatâs the last thing you need today. She gives you that look againâpity laced with sorrow, the one you despise. It burns.
At that moment, a man walks in, passing right by you. You see his face, his green eyes, and the way his lips curl into a grin as he greets Emily.
The scar on her forehead, which you'd missed before, mirrors the one on his.
They are soulmates.Â
Itâs on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is.
She wishes you a nice morning as you leave the cafe. Little does she know youâll spend the rest of the day locked in your apartment, mourning someone you never even met.
Until the day you lost them, you wore your scars with pride.
They were scattered across your stomach, back, chest, and even your legs and arms. Some were shallow, others deep. It never occurred to youâthe thought that they belonged in the shadows, hidden.
Everyone has them, you thought as you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers along their jagged paths. I just seem to have more than most people.
Over the years, you might have changed your hairstyle or the way you dressed, but your scars never didâtheyâd always been there, and they were yours.
Partly yours, of course, since you knew they belonged to your soulmate as well.
The older you grew, the more you realized having a good memory was both a gift and a curse. You still remembered that moment so vividlyâwhen you found out that somebody out there was meant for you and only you.
A point of no return, thatâs what itâd been. From that day on, not a single one went by without you imagining the first encounter with your Prince Charming.Â
In the meantime, you dated. A few boyfriends came and went during and after high school, mostly as practice for the real thing, youâd told yourself.
God, you were determined to know everything. To be the best girlfriend ever, so that when you finally met him, heâd be over the moon.
At the age of seventeen, it sounded like a brilliant plan.
You never knew how, but your life became that meantime. All your friends began to find their soulmates: in the supermarket, while traveling, at the goddamn doctorâs office.
Everybody was fulfilling the purpose youâd been taught humans were made forâeveryone but you.
The scars multiplied, yet he was nowhere to be seen, remaining out of reach. Your soulmateâs whereabouts were a mystery. What the hell does he do in his free time? was something you used to often ponder. Is he suffering? Does he need help?
âBe patient, give it some time. The less you seek, the more youâll find,â your mother would say, trying to sound encouraging. Although she was trying to do her best, that phrase alone had the power to make you go nuts.
Be patient? Waiting was all youâd been doing. What was so wrong with you that he seemed to be hiding from you? You didnât want to wait any longer, noâyou wanted to find him. If it meant traveling to Italy like your cousin had to meet her husband, then so fucking be it.
Many nights, sleep eluded you. Lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling, youâd imagine what life with him would be like. What he would look like. You were certain that no matter his appearance, youâd think he was beautiful.
Wasnât that the whole point of soulmatesâthat the bond you two shared transcended physical attraction?
Nevertheless, you secretly wished heâd have brown hair. He didnât need to know, but you had a weakness for brunettes.
On the night of your twenty-second birthday, you were getting ready for the big event when every trace of your scars disappeared.
The bathroom mirror was fogged from the showerâs stream, and as you wiped it clean with the palm of your hand, the image you saw reflected on the glass made your stomach do a flip.
There were no scars. No marks. Nothing. At first, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on youâit couldnât be. Scars didnât just vanish. It was impossible.
But as you lowered your gaze, tracing your limbs again and again, the truth hit you. The marks you knew by heart, the ones that reminded you, Heâs out there, somewhere, were gone.
You felt it deep in your chest, too. Every sound seemed louder and clearer: the blood rushing through your veins, each shaky breath you took. Where are they? Your fingers dug into your flesh, intending to ground yourself.
Is he⌠dead? It was the only reasonable explanation, the rule youâd known all along. Youâd read it countless times, memorizing the principles about scars.
The scream that tore from your throat brought your mother running upstairs, and she entered the bathroom with a horrified expression on her face.
âWhatâs wrong? Are you hurt?â she asked, but your mind was already far away. Your whole body shuddered in her arms, a sob slipping past your lips as you crumbled to the floor, desperately hoping it was all a nightmare. âIt must be a mistake, honey. Iâm sure heâs okay.â
But heâs not, you wanted to tell her. The words, however, never formedâonly a broken whimper escaped your lips. Isnât that what we were taught? Our scars belong to our soulmates; they bind us to them in a way that simple words canât explain.
It goes deeper than the skin. It delves into our bodies, our minds, reaching into the very essence of who we are. What was once his is also mine, but theyâre gone.
Heâs gone. He must be, because otherwise, how would you explain this void?
When oneâs soulmate passes away, that person will notice the disappearance of their scars. The physical marks that once symbolized their connection fade, leaving no trace. This absence is accompanied by a distinct, unsettling sensationâan awareness of loss that goes beyond the physical, signaling the end of the bond.
A part of you died with him that day.
The first time you exchanged words with Wade Wilson, you thought he was a total dick.
It wasnât as if you didnât know himânot when he was so infamous for that mouth of his. Deadpool: the self-proclaimed superhero with a vocabulary that was 90% profanity, who made cracking jokes while fighting the bad guys look easy.
Super funny? Sure. But not exactly your cup of tea when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and forget the world existed.
He was apparently long retired from superheroing. No one had seen that red, sex-toy-looking suit in ages, which was why you were only mildly surprised as you spotted him hauling boxes into your building on a Tuesday afternoon.
It was late, and you werenât in the mood for small talk. Heâd been there barely a week, yet somehow, heâd already managed to fuck things up.Â
You let out a deep sigh, rubbing the crease between your brows. âLook, Wallyââ
âItâs pronounced Wade,â he corrected you, trying to edge his face further into the gap between the door and its frame, though you didnât let your guard down. âYouâre pretty rude, you know that?â
âIâve been up for twenty-four hours, and I need to sleep,â you groaned, trying to push him away with one hand. Technically, he wasnât even asking for something that complicatedâhe wanted to use your microwave to heat his dinner, since his had decided to stop working out of the blue.
The thing was that youâd had the kind of week that felt like a one-way trip to hell, an important detail he wasnât aware of. âGo ask someone else. I canât do charity tonight.â
âYouâre the only one who answered,â he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lips curling into a heartbreaking pout. âPlease, my lovely neighbor, whose name I donât know. You wouldnât want me to starve to death, would you?
âI thought you couldnât die.â You raised an eyebrow, half-interested.
Wadeâs arms dropped to his sides, his eyes drifting downward. âAnd I thought kindness wasnât extinct, but here we are.â He spun on his heel, acting defeated and dragging his feet like a scolded puppy. âCanât believe this is what the worldâs come to. Iâm sure the Bible says something about treating others how youâd want to be treated.â
Why. Just⌠why? Some cosmic, divine force from beyond might have been testing you that night.
âWait,â you croaked just as he was about to step into his apartmentâwhich was literally three meters from yours. His face lit up, expecting you to continue, and you moved aside slightly, signaling him in. âFive minutes and youâre out, okay? I really need to get some rest.â
The rest was history. Wade was just standing there, mesmerized by your microwave as if heâd never seen one before.
You could only hear the faint buzzing sound of the gadget, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the counter. He was humming a tune while shaking his head to the beat.
You tried to focus, replaying the guided meditation you sometimes followed to sleep in your mind.
Allow yourself to feel the stillness of this moment. Notice your breath slowing as your body begins to calm. Be the observer of your breath, flowing in and out naturally, as your lungsâ
Yeah, it wasnât working.
âPlease, stop it,â you eventually told Wade, whose gaze shifted from the microwave to you, brows furrowed.
âAnd whyâs that?â
âThey say itâs bad for your eyes,â you explained, recalling a half-forgotten news report youâd heard on the TV. Whether it was a myth or not, youâd never know. âI believe itâs because of the radiation exposure.â
Leaning back on the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. âAt this point, I think Iâm safe. You, on the other hand⌠maybe not so much,â he nearly whispered that last part, and your desire to strangle him grew stronger.
Save me, mindfulness, you thought to yourself.
He jerked his thumb toward the pile of papers and books you had on your kitchen table. âSo, youâre a writer?âÂ
âEditor, in reality,â you snapped, your eyelids twitching as you watched him leaf through your stuff. âWade, donât touch my things.â
âSorry, canât help myself. Iâm very curious.â Flashing you a quick grin, he opened your notebook, squinting his eyes as he went through the pages. âBut you write too, huh? Iâm discovering plenty of material here.â
The bastard. âGive. It. Back,â you snarled, lunging at him and trying to snatch the notebook from his hands, but he was faster, raising it out of reach. âI hope your food explodes in that microwave, asshole.â
âOh, right. I forgot about it,â he snorted, tossing the notebook onto the couch and retrieving his dinner instead. You stared at him in disbelief, opening your mouth to scold him, but nothing came out. Then, there he was, standing in front of you with his plate and a fork.
Wait. Was that your fork?
âItâs hot, Iâll give you that.â He blew on his food to cool it down, and as he glanced up, he was met with your murderous glare. âWhoa. Want some? You couldâve just asked me. No need to get so angry.â
Calling it a desire to kill him wouldâve been an understatement. And the worst part? He couldnât die. âYouâve got what you needed. Now, can you leave?â
âHow longâs it been since you talked to another human being?â
You blinked, feeling the sudden urge to look around, half expecting a hidden camera. âWhy do you always answer with another question?â
âAll Iâm saying is Iâve been meaning to talk to you for days now, but youâre practically living the hermit life,â he said between bites of chicken, excusing himself briefly to chew. âThat robe youâre wearing? Itâs had the same stain on it since I moved in. Also, your doormatâs buried under a mountain of newspapers, so either you really love trees, or youâve been avoiding any sort of social interaction.â
If he had been wrong, you wouldâve felt much better. But he⌠wasnât, and it sucked.
âI feel like I should be scared,â you mumbled after a long stretch of silence, your eyes going round.
Wade did no more than laugh at your troubled expression. âScared of me? Thatâs cute. Iâm a nice guy, sweet pea. Persistent, sure, but Iâve got a knack for getting under peopleâs skin,â he said, grinning through a mouthful of foodâwhich, for the sake of your sanity, you chose to ignore.
After he had finished eating, he let the fork fall into the sink, the metal striking against the surface with a piercing echo, making you jump. He stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn, and he seemed determined to leave you alone. âWell, Iâve done my good deed for the day.â
âWhat do you mean?â you asked, following his movements as he ambled toward the door. âAre you telling me your microwave does work?â
âOh, youâre a smart one, arenât you?â Wade patted your head, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy who had just learned a new trick. âGood night, peanut.â
From that moment on, the two of you became inseparable. Your personalities clicked in a way youâd never experienced before with any other friend. Wade was loyal to a fault, and he treated you like the little sister he had never had.Â
Most importantly, he didnât pity youâhe saw you for who you were, not just someone marked by a lost soulmate. You never told him how much that meant to you, but deep down, you were grateful.
Which brings you to the present day. Youâve been friends with him for over a year, and heâs taken every chance to introduce you to his âweird but lovableâ (his words, not yours) group of friends.
âCheck your social anxiety at the door, thank you,â heâd tell you every time he hosted a get-together and you were invited.
Somehow, you had managed to bond with themâespecially Althea, his elderly roommate, who occasionally forgets who you are despite living next door.
âRemind me of your name again, sweetie? All this disco dust must be affecting my memory,â sheâd ask, leaning in close so youâd practically have to shout it into her ear. Then sheâd nod, smirking knowingly. âAh, yes. I thought so. Just making sure.â
Sheâs quite the character. A real sweetheart if you leave aside the number of times sheâs offered you more types of drugs than you knew existed.
Tonight, youâre throwing Wade a surprise birthday party. Among all the party tasks, youâve handled the decorations and the cake. The roomâs a riot of color, with balloons floating lazily from the ceiling and a cascade of streamers draping over the furniture.
Guests start arriving, greeting you warmly, a feeling you once thought impossible. Theyâre Wadeâs friends, sure, but on some level, you like to think theyâre your friends now too: Vanessa, Dopinder, Buck, Shatterstar, Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio.
As you hear footsteps approaching the door, Wadeâs voice filters through the hallway. Panicking, you whirl around to the group. âHeâs here! Everyone shut up!â you whisper urgently, turning off the lights and pressing your back flat against the wall next to the door.
Seconds later, the sound of keys jingling fills the air as both Wade and Peter step into the apartment.
You flip the lights back on just as Dopinder pops his much-anticipated party popper. âSurprise!â you all scream in unison, and Wadeâs face splits into a grin, unsure of whom to hug first.
âYou guys are lucky Iâm not armed,â he quips, slinging an arm around Dopinderâs shoulders. âSix years ago, youâd all be dead!â
And you giggle, because⌠well, what else are you supposed to do?
As you expected, the night unfolds smoothly. Youâre having fun, engaging in conversations despite yesterdayâs emotional meltdown at the cafe. Itâll be okayâit always is. The food is amazing, the company even better. You remind yourself that romantic love isnât the only kind that mattersâthatâs what friends are for, after all, to teach you that lesson.
The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively symphony that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Yukio calls your name, waving her head in front of your eyes, trying to snap you out of your thoughts. âEverything okay?â she wonders, concern flickering in her voice.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you reply, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. âJust thinking, thatâs all.â
You all gather around the cake when Wadeâs about to blow the candles. You know heâs preparing himself for a speech. âAnother year of spinning around the moon, huh?â
âSun, you dumbass,â Al corrects him, and you have to bite your lip to keep your laughter to yourself.
âOkay, flat-earther,â Wade shoots back, giving her a playful side-eye. âAnyway, where was I? Oh, rightâI canât thank you all enough for being here. These past few years have been... well, rough on me, to say the least,â he says, glancing down at the cake with a small, crooked smile. âBut Iâm happy now. Weâve got each otherâs back, like a team!â
âLike The Avengers, you mean?â Dopinder pipes up, eyes sparkling with excitement. Thereâs a moment of silence in which you swear youâd be able to hear a hairpin drop.
Itâs still a sensitive topic.
âNext time, give me a trigger warning before you mention them,â Wade mutters in a hushed tone, and Dopinder shrinks sheepishly. âI guess what I wanted to tell you wasâŚâ he trails off, his palm covering the place where his heart is, âthat I'm glad youâre all here. Being surrounded by the people I love most is the best birthday gift ever.â
His words stir something inside you. Vanessa gently nudges his arm, smiling up at him. âWhy donât you make your wish?â
Wade dramatically drops to his knees in front of the cake, eyes fluttering shut before blowing out the candles, whistles and cheers erupting all around.
Just then, you hear the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing through the air. You exchange a curious glance with Wade, raising your eyebrows. âThatâs weird. Want me to get it?â
âNah, I got it,â he says, excusing himself to answer the door. He slips outside, shutting it behind him, and everything returns to normal. For a while, you assume heâs chatting with someone who dropped by to say hiâbut that doesnât really make sense.
âDonât you think itâs weird that heâs been out there so long?â Vanessa inquires, her worry starting to creep in.
âIâll go check on him,â you tell her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door.
But when you open it, thereâs no Wade in sight. Just⌠his toupeeâor âhair systemâ as he insists on calling it, lying on the floor.
Kneeling down, you gingerly pick it up, a strange sensation settling in your chest.
Where the hell did he go?
After his existence went downhill, Logan turned to prayer.
Completely out of character, right? He thought so too. The number of times he'd stepped foot inside a church could be counted on one hand, so why would a man like him resort to religion?
In the past, he had been told he was part of Godâs plan, but somewhere along the way, he felt like he had become Godâs mistake.
After living a life plagued with loss and constantly in hiding, he wasnât shocked that his self-worth was in the gutter.
Things only spiraled after letting everyone down, especially after that particular day when things took a turn for the worse. He had prayed, asking God to make him forget.
When that didnât work, he just drank harder and smoked more. But not even drowning in alcohol and clouds of nicotine could put an end to his strugglesâhe was condemned to suffer.
In spite of everyoneâs wishes, heâs still going strong, stuck with no defined purpose. Itâs almost impossible not to fall into a routine that seeks to numb him, to put him under anesthesiaâwaking up after passing out who-knows-where, finding the nearest bar, sinking into whiskey and the haze of ashtrays.
Then he does it all over again, a never-ending cycle. His self-destructive habits donât lead him to oblivion; instead, they intensify every sensation, making each memory and emotion painfully vivid.Â
Day after day, he convinces himself heâs got it under control. Logan may be tough as fuck, and he may heal faster than anyone else, but his pride is in pieces.
No amount of strength or supernatural abilities can stop the decay he feels inside, the slow rot creeping deeper within him the longer he remains trapped in this life.
He slams the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy thud, tapping two fingers against it. âAgain,â he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
The bartender looks at him like he's the reincarnation of all things vile. âI told youâyouâre not welcome here. Youâre not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.â
Oh, yes. Music to his ears. If he had a nickel for every time he heard that, heâd be rich. âJust give me one more drink and then Iâll leave.â
âThatâs not how it works,â the bartender replies, and Logan knows heâs screwed. Another public establishment heâs been banned fromâfucking perfect.
Will there ever be a day where heâs not treated like garbage?
âIt does now,â an unknown voice joins the conversation, and Logan glances to his side, arching a brow. The masked man doesnât let his stare falter. âLeave the bottle.â
âDo I know you, bub?âÂ
âYou donât, but I know you.â
This serves as evidence of how pliant heâs become. Years ago, he wouldâve already wiped the floor with this guy. They didnât call him Logan âshort fuseâ Howlett for nothing. But now? He just canât bring himself to do it.
âEverybody does. Iâm theââ
Here it comes, the reminder of his personal calvary.
ââWolverine.â Once he finishes the sentence, his words taste bitter. Perhaps itâs the venom on his tongue, or maybe itâs just the alcohol from yesterday kicking him again. Either way, both hit hard.
âYes, you are,â the stranger says, continuing to stare at him, as if Loganâs worth the effort. âAnd Iâm going to need you to come with me. Right now.â
Logan holds his breath. The worst part of it all is that his dayâs just getting started. He has no clue who this guy is or why heâs claiming to need him.
But heâs got the wrong manâLogan doesnât know him, and he sure as hell doesnât have anything good to offer.
Or so he believed five minutes ago. Life seems to have its own way of surprising him.
Knowing heâll regret it later, he closes his fingers around the whiskey bottle, chugging the liquor until darkness takes over his senses.
Nighty-night, Logan.
I'm aware that you're not mine, and nor will you ever be.
Iâve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out
where this need to call you mine stems from.Â
You're like an antique, a rare piece displayed
in a crowded bazaar, drawing curious glances.
Iâm aware that you're not mine
because I haven't bought you yet;
I hold no claim over you,
nor can I control who touches you and who doesn't.
I want you to be mine,
but no amount of money would buy your soul.
You're beyond reachâsomeone has already marked you.
Iâm aware that youâre not mine,Â
and I guess maybe thatâs how life is meant to be.
âBullshit,â you mutter softly into the quiet of your apartment, where the only sound is the echo of your own voice.
Chewing the end of your pen, your eyes narrow as they skim over the poem youâd written over a month ago.
Since then, youâve been working on refining the details, but something is missingâthat you can feel. The flow is awkward, the choice of words stiff. Itâs like a puzzle that doesnât quite fit together.Â
You take a long sip from your coffee, tucking both knees up onto the chair you're sitting in. 7:30 a.m., and already, your mind is spinning, diving headfirst into a poem when countless other things are demanding your attentionâlike, a hundred things, really.
Right now, cracking this piece feels more important than any other task on your list.
Who do you write to? That part is easyâyour soulmate. That deceased, probably buried, long-gone soulmate of yours.
It shouldnât be funny, but thereâs an absurdity to it.
Without warning, a memory slips into your thoughtsâone girl you used to work with once advising you to change the subject of your writing.
âYou should go for some self-love crap. People usually eat that up,â she said, not even bothering to look up from her nails, red polish smeared over the edges.
Her fingers were a mess, coated in that fiery hue, but she didnât seem to care as she tapped your notebook with her lacquered index finger. âThis is repetitive. Keep writing about the same thing, and people will get bored of you.â
âI havenât published them yet,â you answered, your voice coming out more high-pitched than usual, betraying the doubt you intended to suppress. Her blue eyes flicked up, studying your face as you slid the now red-stained notebook back into your bag, away from her careless, messy fingers. âI thought⌠I thought we were supposed to write about what we feel passionate about.â
That managed to catch her attention. Passionate. She let out a laughâsharp and cold, like something straight out of a villainâs script in a childrenâs movie. It grated against your ears.
âSweetie, you call that passionate?â She waved her hand dismissively, standing up from the table.
Taller, older, and more secureâjust the fact that she gave you her time shouldâve made you feel grateful. âNot to be a bitch, but what you showed me is kind of depressing.âÂ
Kind of depressing. From that moment on, you kind of hated her. Small victories, thoughâthe agency fired her a year later. You like to think you kind of won that battle.
Still, she mightâve been right about one thing: your writing does fall into patterns. Itâs predictable, to say the leastâthe rhythm, the themes. Even the metaphors you include can be found in several of your poems.
Are you⌠lazy? Has someone revealed the way to break out of it? If there is, you figure you're fine without it.
You donât want to write the kind of articles sheâd churn out about the latest trends or the five best positions to get pregnant faster. Nor do you want to pick apart celebrities' lives for a flashy headline.
What you do want is to write about love. Real love. Even if you are not the most qualified person to do it. Even if nobody wants to read the words from someone who has never experienced it in the flesh.
And youâll get thereâhow? Youâre still figuring that out.
As long as you live and breathe, love will remain in your thoughts, haunting youâespecially with your muse being the fleeting dream of a soulmate you never got to meet in the first place.
But itâs time to start your dayâthe real one. The one where you have to step outside the safety of your four walls and deal with reality.
The to-do list assembles in your mind: groceries, that book youâve been meaning to pick up, emails you need to answer.
You let your mind take over, guiding you through the motions without a second thought. As you head back to your room, you get rid of the comfortable robe you love so much.
Next, your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Just as you're about to step out of your pajama pants, you notice them.
The scars.
Theyâre not the same, not the faded lines etched into your skin that you could see every night behind your eyelids. New marks glow against your flesh, each one a map of something you donât yet understand, standing out like new brushstrokes on an old canvas.
You canât help but freeze, your breath faltering for a moment, and you nearly trip over yourself. Kicking your pants to the side, you stare down at your hips, thighs, the hollow of your ribcage.Â
Tentatively, you press your fingers into the lines, expecting them to fade, to disappear under your touch like some peculiar illusion.
But they donât. They remain. You can feel the raised edges, the subtle roughness, the heat beneath your touch.
These scars are different from the ones you had before. Under no circumstances are they the faint memories you once carried. Noâthese are fresh and vibrant. Marks that shouldnât exist, the stories theyâve witnessed unfamiliar to you.
Within seconds, youâre sobbing, and you blink through the wetness clouding your vision, wiping your tears of disbelief (and maybe hope?) away with the back of your hand.
Nothing changes. Theyâre still there.
You've never heard of scars returning like this. It goes against everything in the manual on your shelf. Scars vanish when a soulmate dies, but they donât come back. Not like this. And they certainly donât change.Â
Barely able to stand without stumbling, you scramble to your phone. The first person you call is your mom, your fingers shaking as you press the buttons. She screams into the phone, and all you can do is laugh through the tears.
What doesnât sit right with her is the change in the scars. She mentions something about reaching out to a specialist, insisting that your case is rareâone in a million.
Almost immediately, you think of Wade, knowing heâd want to hear this. God, heâd be ecstatic. Before you even realize it, youâre standing in front of his door, finger hovering over the bell.
Thatâs when the realization hits you: heâs been gone for nearly three days, off doing whatever it is he does.
Ringing the bell, a smile tugs at your lips. News like these are meant to be shared.
âAlthea, itâs me!â you call out, hoping sheâll hear you. You press your forehead against the door, fidgeting with your fingers. âI have something to tell you.â
Logan has had better days. Days that didnât involve escaping The Void, fighting a hundred Wades, or saving an earth that wasnât even his to begin with.
You know, normal daysâof being sneered at while drinking to forget and, fuck, how many hours has he been sober? It feels like an eternity.
When the adrenaline wears off and the heroism fades, heâs back to being just Logan again. If he had a watch, heâd probably tap the glass and fake impatience to Wade, pretending heâs got somewhere else to be.
He should leave. Thatâs his first impulse: to escape before itâs too late, but a question arises in his mind: does he truly want to?
Wade watches as Logan rises to his feet, planning to walk away. Pretty stupid, Logan thinks, considering he knows no one else in this universeâapart from the scarred man heâs become friends with against his will.
âLogan!â Wade yells his name, his voice light but firm enough to halt him in his tracks. Logan turns to face him, greeted by Wadeâs familiar, infuriating smile.
It's a silent invitation to a new beginning.
Nothingâs holding him back, so why not accept it? The odds of being the target of hateful glares are lower here, and thatâs reason enough for Logan to give a small tilt of his head and return to the bench where Wade remains seated.
âWeâre gonna be roommates!â the latter exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his face as they head toward the building. âCan you imagine all the fun weâll have?â
Logan presses his lips into a thin line. âLooking forward to it,â he murmurs, a small glimmer of sarcasm slipping into his tone, although Wade takes his words at face value.
âMe too, roomie. Me too.â
âLetâs not use that word.â
Wade holds the door open for Logan with an exaggerated bow. âWhy not? Itâs the truth. We can even share my bed if thatâsââ
The sound of Loganâs claws succeeds in silencing him. Wade recoils and covers his crotch, no doubt remembering past close calls.
âYou know what? You can have the bed. Iâll take the couch. No problem.â
Was moving in with Wade the worst idea heâs had in a while? Absolutely. The reason? Althea, the elderly woman he lives with, isnât answering the door, and he doesnât have his keys.
Logan covers his eyes with a hand, silently questioning all of his life choices. And itâs only been ten minutes.
âThis doesnât happen often,â Wade reassures him, rubbing his neck.
âHard to believe,â Logan mutters, some unknown muscle in his jaw beginning to ache from how hard heâs gritting his teeth. âYou just leave the house without your fucking keys?â
Wade huffs, jutting out a hip in mock offense. âThose TVA guys didnât exactly send a âWeâre here to ruin your dayâ memo. I was ambushed, okay?â he retorts, keeping a finger glued to the doorbell, its shrill ring gnawing at Loganâs already thin patience. âAl, I swear to God, Iâm replacing your blood pressure pills with laxatives if you donât wake up!â
âHow old is she?â Logan asks, searching for anything to keep him from snapping the other manâs neck. Peaceful thoughts.
âCompared to you, sheâs basically a newborn,â Wade replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. Heâs having the time of his lifeâmeanwhile, Loganâs self-control is reaching its limit.
His claws twitch in his knuckles. Heâs had enough, and with a jerk of his left hand, they gleam as they slide out, ready to break the damn door.Â
But then Wade jumps in front of him.
âWhoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, buddy! Iâm not letting you turn my door into a strainer.â
âMove,â Logan barks, not an ounce of friendliness in his tone. His stare is flat, unfazed.
âIâd rather not. You canât just go around breaking peopleâs doors, man. Not cool,â Wade blurts quickly, placing both hands on Loganâs chest, pushing him away. âHow about I ask my neighbor, huh? I gave her a spare set of keys for situations like these.â
âI thought you said this didnât happen often.â
âWell, lifeâs full of disappointments.â
Before Logan can answer back, Wade rushes to the door next to his, slamming his fist on it like a madman, his finger hammering the doorbell simultaneously.
The devilâs orchestraâa symphony straight from hell.
Logan grabs Wadeâs wrist before he can knock again, hissing: âHave some manners, will you?âÂ
Wade tries to shake his arm free from Loganâs tight grip. âSheâs in there. I know it,â he replies in the same tone, but now he uses his other hand to ring the doorbell with greater feeling.
After a pause, he stamps his foot on the floor, throwing his head back. âCome on! Is this how you treat me after being away? Shame on you, Missy!â
This neighbor must be very patient, Logan thinks, to keep up with a guy like Wade without often seeing red.
As the door finally swings open, his grip on Wade loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side.
âWhat⌠the fuck?â
The sound of your voiceâsoft, slightly groggy from sleepâpulls his attention away from the door incident. His gaze is fixed entirely on youâyou look as if youâve just rolled out of bed, which makes sense since itâs still early.
Back in The Void, Wade had rambled on about all his friends, you included. Logan recalls how he had described you: a book editor who lived on her own and loved reading. You were youngerâbut then again, who wasnât younger than him?
The picture Wade had shown him, with you standing in the background, hadnât done you justice. He had found you attractive then, but seeing you in person?
Youâre⌠far more than he expected.
More beautiful, for starters.
Fuck. Why is he even thinking about that? He mustâve been staring at you for quite a whileâyou glance at him like a startled lamb, clearly feeling self-conscious under his unwavering stare.
âMay I know,â you start, tightening your robe, âwhy you were banging on my door like that? I thought I was getting robbed for a minute.â You direct your question at Wade, avoiding Loganâs presence, which makes something tighten in his chest.
He finds the way you stifle a yawn endearing, though.
Okay, thatâs enough, he tells his mind. Let it go.
Wade steps in first, dropping his mask on the nearest surface. âHello, my dear. Oh, yes, Iâm fine. Just a few scratches. No, I wasnât partyingâI was kidnapped. Thanks for asking.â
You draw in a long breath, rubbing your eyes to wake up once and for all, and then you proceed to gesture for Logan to enter. Even now, you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. âDo youâwould you like to come in?â
Not only are you pretty, but also polite. He nods, muttering a gruff: âYeah, thank you.â
As he walks past you, your shoulders brush briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through him. A tingling sensation on the verge of being electrifying that has him knitting his brows.
His gaze finds yours, searching your expression to see if you felt it too. But you look away, closing the door to go after Wade.
Great. You must think heâs a weirdo.Â
âIâm always up for company, but why so early?â you ask your friend, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. âAnd are you going to tell me what happened the other day? You left without saying anything.â
Wade hops onto a stool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. âYou know Al. When it comes to sleeping, sheâs like a much older version of Sleeping Beauty,â he replies with a grin, snatching the mug you were about to use for your morning coffee. âThanks, youâre such a doll.â
âThat wasâmine,â you sigh, hitting him in the thigh, and Wade winces with a fake whine. âI donât think Iâve missed you that much. Go back to being missing in action,â you say, grabbing another mug and filling it before raising it toward Logan. âCoffee?â
Logan hesitates. Youâre treating him like youâve known him for years, not minutes. âIâm⌠good.â
âYou sure? I made it fresh, just before you guys arrived.â
âDonât worry, Iâmââ
âI love the chemistry here,â Wade interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention back to him, âbut you still got the keys I gave you, right?â
You roll your eyes, blowing on your steamy coffee before answering. âI do, but I want answers first. And I want them now.â
Twenty minutes and a rambling, half-coherent story later, your drink has gone cold, and Loganâs patience is wearing thin⌠again.
Will he survive sleeping under the same roof as Wade? Stay tuned for more.
âAnd then I told Paradox âHe has risen, babygirlâââ
âI think youâre being too specific,â Logan interjects, noting how youâre staring into space with wide eyes. âShe seems confused.â
âI am,â you admit, rubbing your temples. He doesnât blame you: Wadeâs a terrible storyteller. You offer him a weak smile as you turn to him. âSo⌠youâre from another universe.â
âLast time I checked.â His back collapses against the couch, groaning softly. He sits beside you, and the way your eyes sweep over him, taking in his disheveled and sweaty appearance, doesnât go unnoticed by him.
âAnd how is it? I mean, do you haveââ
âIâm public enemy number one.â
Too harsh, idiot.
âOh. Thatâs⌠good to know.â
Wade says your name, and you look to your right, lifting your brows. âDo you mind if I grab the keys myself? I need a shower. Iâve been marinating in sweat and blood for way too long.â
You grimace, pointing toward your room. âTop drawer of my nightstand.â
With that, he embarks on a quest to find them, leaving Logan alone with you. Silence stretches between you two.
He doesnât know what to say, or if he should even say anything. Casual conversation isnât his forte.
âYou and WadeâŚ?â
Letting out a giggle, you lean back on the couch. âGod, no. Weâre just friends,â you explain, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, your eyes bore into his, and then you return to burning holes in the floor. âIâm single. Havenât found my soulmate yet.â
Itâs his turn to chuckle nowâa dark, humorless sound rumbling in his chest. You chew on a cuticle, Loganâs gesture igniting a sense of curiosity in you.
âWhat?â you ask him, puzzled.
âDo you really believe in that? Soulmates who share scars?â If he were to think carefully, heâd watch his tone. Itâs too late, anywayâyou straighten your posture, your face contorting with each passing second. âI can tell you do.â
âAnd I can tell you donât.â
âWhy would I? Those are lies,â he retorts, the corners of his mouth turning upward.
His opinion is anything but objective, totally biased, given that every time he dove into loveâs arms, he was met with the crude reality: not everyoneâs meant to be loved, himself included.
The look you give him is enough to wipe the smirk off his face.Â
âSoulmates exist, Logan. We all have one.â Thereâs a certainty in your tone, marked by the subtle way in which you say his name, that he finds alluring. He shouldnât, especially when you seem angry above all.Â
âAnd where is yours, then?â
He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your expression becomes inscrutable. You could be either disappointed, frustrated, or even exasperatedâsad, perhaps?
Logan feels as though a weight has settled on his shoulders just from staring into your eyes.
You strike back with silence. Plain, pure, dreadful silence that has him wondering if heâs breathing properly.
At long last, Wade comes back from his expedition, keys dangling from his fingers. âIt was quite the treasure hunt, you know? Youâve got a lot of garbage in there.â He sticks his face between Loganâs and yours when you don't answer him. âGuys, is there something wrong? Are you doing a staring contest? If so, can I join?â
âI need to start getting ready for work,â you announce, standing up from the couch. Logan mimics you, and you open the door, your fingers curling around the knob. âYou should get going. And Wade,â you pause, acknowledging only him, âI need to talk to you later. In private.â
Without Logan. Thatâs what you wanted to say but didnât.
âSure, my queen. I live to serve,â Wade says in rejoinder, and he kisses your forehead briefly, which forces Logan to avert his gaze the whole time his lips are on you, feeling uncomfortable watching. âTake care, alright?âÂ
You give Wade a small nod, waiting until heâs outside your apartment to glance at Logan.
âGoodbye,â you croak, and he knows he should say something, that heâ
The door almost closes on his nose.
Had he been an asshole? He was merely expressing his thoughts. The idea of soulmates didnât sit well with him.
Once settled into Wadeâs apartment, Logan steps into the shower, water rinsing off his body. Yet he finds himself unable to stop thinking about you.
The disappointment in your eyes when he asked about your soulmate.
The coldness in your tone at the end, so different from the warmth you initially offered.
He feels drawn to you, as if some sort of invisible string is tying the two of you. Were it possible, he would use his own claws to cut it, but he canât discern where it begins or ends. Instead, he prefers to blame his touch-starved state for this reaction.Â
Heâs already hating this earth. So much for a man whose skin refuses to scar.
And where is yours, then?
His words shouldnât have stung the way they did. All the charmâthe gruff exterior, the mysterious personalityâhad vanished.
The guy from another universe, with the claws, the healing abilities, and the raspy voice, is a moron.
A ridiculously good-looking moron? Yes, but a moron nonetheless.
There is something about him you canât quite place. A chill creeps down your spine as you replay the instant your eyes first locked. Your body had reacted in ways it never had before, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.
Why? Youâd seen handsome men before, even been with some. Yet, youâve never felt thisâthis gravitational pull, this inexplicable pull to invade someoneâs personal space.
How would your soulmate feel if he saw you like this, lusting after another man?
You shudder at the thought. This isnât like you. You pride yourself on loyaltyâperhaps a little too much. You donât read two books at the same time, and youâve been buying the same brand of shampoo for the past five years.
So why now? Why him? It feels like a betrayal of your own mind, your conscience turned against you.
Let things stay as they areâitâs safer that way. You donât want to know the reason behind this forceful need.
After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, heâll stay holed up in Wadeâs apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? Youâll forget about him. Easy-peasy.
That afternoon, as you take a nap on the couch, he invades your dreams. Itâs not even a wet dream, but heâs there, staking a claim on a part of you he has no right to.
You wake up with your hand clutching your chest, a frustrated punch landing on the nearest cushion.
The next day, you drop by Wadeâs place for a quick visit, your eyes darting around the room every few seconds, half-expecting Logan to appear out of nowhere.
âI told you, heâs sleeping. That guyâs got a fucked up sleep schedule,â Wade says, urging you to take a seat beside him at the table. âWhy donât you wanna see him?â
Because heâs messing with your sanity. Your brain cells are practically disintegrating at the mere thought of breathing the same air as him.
âI justâI need to tell you something.â
âAre you pregnant?â
âWhat? Wade, no! Youâve been gone for three daysâpregnancies take months.â
âIâd make an amazing uncle, though.â He grabs your hand between his, his eyes sparkling with mischief. âBabies are so adorable at thatââ
âMy scars are back,â you cut him off, putting an end to his nonsense. Pulling the neck of your sweater to the side, you show him the thin lines etched into your collarbone. âBut they are different this time.â
âDifferent? You mean they changed?â His disbelief is clear as he reaches for your arm, frowning while he inspects more of your scars. Wadeâs jaw slackens, color draining out of his face. âFuck. Fuck!â
âFuck?â
âYeah, fuck!â His strong arms envelop you, and you lean into the embrace, resting your cheek against his shoulder. âIs this good news? Are we happy? Does this mean I have a shot at becoming an uncle after all?â
You laugh a little at his eagerness, rubbing gentle circles into his back. âI am happy. I justâI donât know what these changes mean yet.â
Althea steps out of the bathroom, her cane tapping the floor in rhythmic beats. âI already told you what they mean.â
Wade pulls away from you, glaring at her. âYou meddler! Havenât we talked about not eavesdropping? Hasnât life taught you anything after all these decades?â
âUpside of being blind: Iâve never seen this motherfucker in Crocs,â she says, pointing her cane at you, though you know her aim is Wade. âDownside of being blind: I hear everything in this apartment. And you, kid, have a new soulmate.â
âI know what we talked about the other day, but... it doesnât make sense, Al. You only get one soulmate,â you protest, feeling the tension grow as you pace around the table. âWhy canât it just be simple? My friends are getting engaged, years are flying by, and Iâm still out here chasing this⌠this idiot who no one can even find!â
Thatâs when Logan appears, emerging from his room, holding several empty beer cans. He rolls his eyes and walks straight into the kitchen. âGreat. Who else is coming tonight?â
Wade smirks, clapping a hand on Loganâs shoulder as he looks at you. âSweetie, Loganâs going through his second puberty at the ripe old age of two hundred. The pediatrician said itâs just hormones, nothing to worry about. Excuse his shitty attitude.â
With a low groan, Logan shrugs off Wadeâs hand, scowling. If anything, the younger manâs grin just grows bigger. âWolvie, I gotta admit that whole âDonât fall in love with me or Iâll break your heartâ personality shouldnât turn me on, but here we are.â
You decide to take that as your cue to leave. You grab your bag, muttering a quick goodbye to Althea as you head for the door.
But Logan calls after you. âCan we talk?â
You freeze, your back to him. âHow much did you hear?â you ask, not daringânot being ableâto meet his gaze.
âAll of it,â he admits after a beat, and you curse under your breath. âBut it doesnâtâHey!â He follows you into the hallway. âIâm talking to you!â
âNo, youâre not.â You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking as you try to unlock your door. âLeave me alone.â
âI wonât,â he mumbles behind you, his voice softer now. âCome on. Donât be so harsh.â
âI canât believe you,â you whisper, finally finding the right key and jiggling it into the lock. The door swings open, and you step into the safety of your apartment. But when you try to close it, Loganâs foot wedges into the gap, blocking it. âGet out.â
He doesnât budge. âNo.â
âLogan, Iâm not in the mood.â
âWell, me neither. But I owe you an apology.â
You wonder if he realizes the hold he has on you. No matter how hard you try to mask it, the unbearable pounding of your heart betrays you.
Scanning his features, you trace the rugged contours of his face with your eyes, lingering on the lines on his foreheadâthe aftermath of what it looks like a life lived through bitterness and pain.
âCan I come in?â he insists, his tone on the verge of sounding pleading.
You hesitate. The sensible part of you screams to send him away. Thinking that avoiding him would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby is a long-forgotten idea now: youâd been naĂŻve to even consider it possible.
Heâs going to find a way to sneak into your space, your homeâand youâll let him in. Youâll grant him a chance to cross a boundary that shouldâve been already drawn.
It feels like youâre fifteen again, infatuated with the guy you know you shouldnât get close to. Paul from high school wasnât your soulmate back thenâLogan isnât now.
The smart thing would be to take a step back, accept his apology, and ask him to leave. Thatâs how you preserve what little remains of your sanity and protect your heart, which is already hanging by a thread.
But God, it feels so good to be near him.
You step aside. He walks in. Something tells you this wonât be the last time.
âIâm waiting.â You stay near the counter, pressing your back against it, and keeping your distance. Logan sits awkwardly on the edge of your couch, unsure of where to begin.
âLook, about what I said yesterdayâŚI didnât mean it. Iâm sorry.â He sounds sincere, earnest. âI didnât know you believed in soulmates.â
âItâs not a matter of believing in them or not, Logan. My soulmate is out thereâyours too.â
Your words coax a grin from him, and he shakes his head. âI guess weâll never see eye to eye on that.â In a fluid motion, he crosses the room, and you find his unexpected proximity a bit exasperating. âDo you forgive me?â
âIâll think about it.â
âGive me a break, darlinâ. Iâm trying my best.â
âWell, you were an asshole.â
âYes.â
âThe first time we exchanged words.â
âAlso yes.â
âAnd now youâre apologizing.â
âPositive. I just did.â
Itâs not that youâre easyâitâs Loganâs persuasive allure that gets to you.
âWhat else can I do to win your forgiveness?â he wonders aloud, his syrupy voice making you tighten your grip on the counter.
An idea sparks in your mind. You move toward the pile of books next to the TV, eyeing the titles, until one catches your attention: your copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte BrontĂŤ, one of the first novels youâd read when you were younger.
Itâs adorned with colorful post-its, and the pages, sort of rough to the touch, are marked with handwritten notes in the margins.
âHow do you feel about reading?â
âNot my strongest suit,â he answers, arching a brow as he takes in your enthusiasm. âWhatâs going on in that head of yours?â
âYou want me to believe youâre sorry for what you said? Then read this,â you say, wiggling the book in front of him, âand we can start over.â
âWhat is it about? Let me guess: love and soulmates. Did I get it right?â he asks, playfulness lacing his tone. His breath hitches as you press the book against his chest, silently urging him to take it. His pinky grazes your hand, feeling your skin and sending a jolt through you.
Logan watches you with half-lidded eyes, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tear yourself away from him and his maddening touch.
You clear your throat. âOpen it to page one hundred fifty-three.â
âDo youâyou remember specific pages?â
âAnd read whatâs underlined in black,â you murmur, eyes fluttering closed for an instant. âPlease.â
Logan must mutter something along the lines of âYouâve got to be kidding meâ before searching for it. Itâs only then that he begins to recite the passage:
He is not to them what he is to me. He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; â I am sure he is â I feel akin to him â I understand the language of his countenance and movements; though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered: â and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.
Youâve chosen a damn good page.
Logan looks up from the book, his mouth slightly parted, as if heâs about to speak. You interject before he can find the words.
âYouâve got a week to read it.â
âHow long is it again?â
âFour hundred pages.â
He surrenders, sighing in defeat. âYouâre killing me here, yâknow?â
âWrite an opinion essay if possible.â
Right there, Logan offers you a mock laugh. âHaha. Thatâs so funny.â
âIt is for me,â you talk back, unable to hide your smile from him, and soon he mirrors your expression.Â
As Logan steps toward the door, he hesitates and glances back. âWeâre all good then?â
Leaning against the doorframe, you raise your chin defiantly. âWeâll be when you finish the book.â
What he says next has your stomach turning into knots. âYouâre trouble.â His tone shiftsâno longer teasing, but grounded in truth. Gone are the jokes; he seems to mean every word.
For the rest of the night, one line from the book doesnât stop echoing in your mindâthe line about soulmates: I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.Â
Youâre trouble for him, and heâs trouble for you. You hope he knows it too.
He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished.
That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day.
Logan now figures heâs been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. Heâs seen you animated, angryâboth defiant and vulnerable.
Each of your gestures feels like a memory he canât quite place.
The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the leftâhe swears it isnât the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun.
Still, he convinces himself itâs all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. Itâs the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment.
Heâs wrongâyouâre right. Heâs seeing things where there are noneâyouâre simply too kind.
Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself.
Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out?
Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes?
The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine canât close his eyes.
Instead, he listens.
Some nights, you play the same movie on repeatâa romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, heâs privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen.
He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll.
None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endingsâthe kind you wish for yourself.
One way or another, there must be a way to get you out of his system. He knows, without a doubt, that you wouldnât want him. Heâs not your soulmate, and itâs clear that finding that person has become the center of your existence.
Logan canât allow himself to be the moron who derails your purpose.
Sure, heâs done bad things, but he likes to believe that at least a part of himâsome small fractionâhasnât been lost yet. That thereâs a piece of him that can be saved, which is the reason why he stayed here: to be a better man than the one he was in his universe.
But itâs hard. Harder still because itâs you who disrupts his quest for redemption. How is he supposed to go on with his life when every thought circles back to you? The idea of holding you, kissing youâsleeping beside you haunts him.
And so the images blur, new dreams twisting with his usual nightmares.
Which one is worse, he can no longer tell.
One afternoon, while deliberately steering clear of Jane Eyre, he reluctantly turns to Wade in search of answers. âTell me more about her.â
Wade, lounging on the couch, stops scrolling on his phone and drops it onto his chest, drawing his eyebrows together.
âHer? Who do you mean?â His tone oozes with feigned innocence, barely containing a shit-eating grin when Logan grits out your name, his tone rough, almost pained. âOh, Romeo. Youâve got it bad.â
Intending to maintain some semblance of control, Logan strides into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the last bottle of whiskey. As he tips it, only a few drops fall into the glass.
âNo, I donât,â he says, extending his arm and holding the bottle up. âWeâre out of whiskey.â
âYou keep saying we, but youâre the only alcoholic in this apartment.â Wade kicks off his shoes, propping his feet on the coffee table. âSo, why the sudden interest in the lady? She getting through that tough exterior of yours? Iâll give her points for that.â
âAnd you wonder why I donât talk to you.â
âI saw the book,â the younger man replies, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching as Logan rummages through the fridge with increasing frustration. âYou never told me you were into classics. If Iâd known, Iâd have gotten you a copy of Pride and Prejudice.â
âShut your mouth.â
âIâm sorry, werenât you the one who came to me, looking for the essential oil of truth?â
The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable, mood-killing.
âSee what I just did there?â he adds, and Logan feels forced to shake his head from side to side, appearing conflicted. Wade lets out a low huff. âThat was Virginia Woolf. Add her to your reading list.â
âHas anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?â
âMore times than I can count. Iâm just not everyoneâs cup of coffee.â
âTea, Wade. Not everyoneâs cup of tea.â
âWhatever.â Wade simpers, as though Loganâs correction is the punchline to a joke only he gets. He sets his palms flat on the table, looming closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. âSo, what would you like to know about my dear friend?â
Logan hesitates, the weight of his question heavy on his tongue. âWhatâs the deal with her scars?â
The air shifts. Wadeâs playful expression fades and he tilts his head, his tone turning serious. âI donât think itâs my story to tell,â he begins, gaze dropping to the floor. âBut she lost them years ago. She was living a normal life, and one day, they were justâgone, like they were never there. It broke her. We didnât know each other back then, but youâve seen her.â
Wadeâs eyes flick back up, while Logan stands there, tongue-tied. âYou even know the kind of books she readsânothing can shake that belief in real love, in soulmates being destined. Imagine how she mustâve felt when she found out her presumed soulmate was dead⌠without a single warning.â
From what he had heard, that sense of loss was impossible to put into words. Those whoâd gone through it described the experience as if half of youâyour body, your soul, your very essenceâwas being ripped away.
The pain was excruciating, and the only way to survive it was by means of tolerating itâno remedy, just the endurance to outlast the agony.
It wasnât just a momentary hurt. It was the kind of torment that lingered, making you question who you were and what little remained of you.
You and Logan had more in common than heâs willing to admit.
âSheâs a good person,â he mutters absent-mindedly, his thumb grazing the cover of the book. He had carried it everywhere for a week now, without even cracking it open.
âOh, you dirty pigâŚâ Wade whispers, his eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind. âNow I get it. You wanna know her. Like, really know her!â
âI donâtââ
âYour sex life is none of my business. Iâm all up for you putting your mutant dick to work, otherwise itâs just wasted potential. But itâs my friend weâre talking about.â
Loganâs jaw tightens, and he snaps. âDrop the speech, alright? Iâm not trying to get into her pants. I just want to be nice. Thatâs all.â
âNice, huh? Whatâs your version of nice? Starting a two-person book club?â Wade stifles a laugh, pressing a finger to Loganâs chest. âLook, if you want to sleep with her, and the feelingâs mutual, then go for it. Just tell me thisâhow longâs it been since you visited Pussy Village? Was it before or after the Big Bang?â
Things are never truly serious with Wade Wilson. âIâm not answering that.â
Wade raises both hands in surrender, still chuckling. âFine, fine. But if youâre really interested, just be clear about it. She doesnât need a half-assed situationship.â
By now, itâs like a mantra he repeats again and again, hoping that eventually both Wade and he will start to believe it. âI donât want to have sex with her.â
As he heads back to his (now Wadeâs old) room, Wade adds, âIâm sure sheâd appreciate it if you underlined some quotes you like.â
Much to his dismay, thatâs exactly what Logan does.
His handwriting isnât the most legible, but he tries his best, leaving notes in the margins of some pages, such as:
I hate this John kid.
Her aunt is a cunt.
This is too cheesy.
Mr. Rochesterâs married?
St. Johnâwhat a prick.
He finishes the book at 7 a.m. A long-ass bookâjust for you. While getting ready for work, Wade calls him an unemployed fucker, and Logan knows nothing better than to shoot back a similar insult, stretching his arms as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains.
Wade was right about something, even if Logan himself doesnât wish to admit it: heâs behaving like a teenagerâstaying up until dawn, practically chained to the bed without daring to go out. Falling for a girl he didnât know a week ago.
Learning to control his impulses has been a hard task, especially with his temperament. Over the years, Logan thought heâd mastered the art of self-restraint, long past the point where his body moved without his mindâs permission.
As his feet carry him down the hall toward your apartment, he recognizes how wrong he is.
This is a terrible idea, he thinks. And yet, his fist knocks on the wood. Three times.
Fuck.
The door opens just a crack. You peek out, your face barely visible, eyes puffy from sleep. âLogan?â
His name isnât a fancy one. Itâs pretty normal, pretty standard. There must be a thousand other guys named like himâyet itâs only when you say it, your voice turning it into something rare and unique, that it feels different, like itâs only his.
The tone you use with him isnât the one heâs used to: Logan, youâre a disappointment. Logan, how dare you turn your back on your friends? Logan, theyâre all dead. Logan, itâs your fault.
Yours is inviting, and warm, and new. He likes new.
âI just finished it,â he answers, holding up the book, mindful not to grip it too tight as not to crumple the pages.
You scratch the back of your head, blinking at him. âYou just finished it⌠at 7 a.m.?
Yeah, it sounds stupid now that you say it out loud, but itâs true. Hoping his reaction is enough to explain what he canât put into words, he gives you a slow nod.
This time, you donât wait for him to say more. âCome in?â
Yes, this is what heâs been looking forward all week. This moment, this interaction.
This Come in. This Yes, thank you. Youâre so kind.
His quiet acceptance of your invitation, the unpronounced thought of I donât deserve this, but I canât back off now, because how could I ever say no to you?
He follows you into the kitchen as you move to make tea. âWant some?â you ask, but he declines the offer. If he were to drink anything right now, it would be something much stronger, not tea, despite the early hour. âYouâre here to talk about the book?â
âWell, you told me I could come back after reading it.â
âI did,â you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hide it behind your mug. âI just wasnât expecting you to be so punctual.â
You donât need to know that heâs been counting down the seconds, marking each minute in his mind since the last time he saw you. Thatâs a detail heâll keep to himself. âItâs a good story.â
âTell me about it.â You smile even wider, and he takes a moment to absorb the details of your faceâthe crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches when youâre amused. âI lent you my most precious book. Fell in love with it years ago.â
âI can see why you liked it,â he explains, flipping through the pages to find the one he marked. âAll the romance and the yearningââ
âHey, itâs also good for other reasons,â you try to defend yourself, but any other argument dies on your lips when he finds the passage he was looking for and begins to read aloud.
âI sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now,â he recites, his voice lower, almost reverent, as he looks up from the page to meet your gaze. âIt is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.â
You seem startled by the sharp sound of him closing the book. Heâs sort of breathless, and from where he stands, he can tell you are too. âThatâs one of my favorite passages.â
âI canât blame you for believing in soulmates if this is the kind of thing you read growing up,â he teases, handing the book back to you.
Though a part of him almost wishes he didnât have toâso that it would still be a reason, a tether, pulling him back to you again and again.
Grinning, you take it, your eyes remaining trained on his. âI happen to notice it hasnât changed your perspective on soulmates.â
âItâll take more than a book.â
âThis is, in my opinion, one of the best love stories ever written. How else will I convince you?â
âWhy do you feel like you need to convince me?â He takes a step forwardâyou take a step back. âWhy canât it be the other way around? I might end up being the one who convinces you.â
âYou could never,â you respond, clasping your hands behind your back. âIt would be like convincing me the sky is green instead of blue.â
Logan retreats slightly. âDonât you get tired?â
âOf what?â
âOf waiting. Of always being on the lookout.â
You donât react badly to his question. Youâre not even shaken, not fazed in the slightest. âWhen I meet him, Iâll know all the waiting was worth it.â
âAnd in the meantime?â Logan inquires, pressing himself further into your intimacy, edging closer as if testing the boundaries youâre willing to cross. His words are a subtle request for more, for answers. âWhat will you do until you find him?â
If you ever do, he thinks, but itâs left unsaid, lingering in his thoughts. Heâs getting better at not saying the things that sit heavy in his chest without thinking.
âI think you misunderstand, Logan.â You study him through your lashes, and he feels heâs become the keeper of your most sacred secrets. âItâs not about waiting as if my lifeâs on pause. Iâve been with other people. But in the end, I want to choose him.â
That casual admission strikes him like a wave of cold water. A flicker of jealousy burns at the edges of his composure, though he tries to smother it.
Iâve been with other people, you say, your tone so nonchalant, and yet the mental images that flood his mind are anything but comfortable.
He imagines someone else standing in your kitchen. Perhaps in five minutes, there will be another man knocking on your door, here to discuss a book, and it wonât be him.
Perhaps this isnât rare for youâall this come in, grab something to drink, letâs talk when youâre done reading.
Perhaps heâs not as important as you make him feel.
His thoughts spiral until your voice pulls him back from the brink.
âDonât you understand how beautiful it is?â Thereâs a dazzling glint in your expression, a light in your eyes that makes him ache. âOutside of these four walls, thereâs a person whoâs waiting to meet me, in the same way I expect to meet him. I canât grant myself the choice not to believe in something like this.â
Far from easing the martyr in his mind, this conversation only deepens his internal struggle. The questions overlap each other: what happens if you never find him? Would you ever consider settling for somebody else?
He rephrases that last oneâwould you ever consider being with him?
âHeâs a lucky guy,â Logan murmurs, and just like that, he feels himself slipping deeper, falling into the rabbit hole with you guiding him through the madness.
For a moment, he can pretendâpretend that matching scars and bonds that defy the rules of his principles make sense.
Maybe, just for you, heâll allow himself to believe it.
Your eyes soften with sudden emotion, glistening with the beginnings of tears. He feels the primal urge to reach out, to cup your cheek, to be there when the first tear falls. âYou think so?â you ask, your voice fragile.
I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now.
âOf course I do,â he replies, his tone quiet but laden with a strange, undeniable truth.
It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.
Whatever this is between youâitâs messed up. Heâs messed up. And you⌠youâre just as tangled in this chaos for indulging it, for looking at him in that way that calls out to him.
The more time he spends with you, the less he feels like himself. Everything heâs done latelyâreading that damn book, standing in your apartment at 7 a.m.ânone of it feels like something heâd do.
Itâs not just his mind youâre messing with: itâs his very sense of self.
Loganâs smart mouth had always been a liability, getting him into trouble either by saying too much or by choosing the wrong words. Bad things had always followed in the wake of his tongue.
Somehow, when it comes to you, heâs the most careful heâs ever been. He doesnât want to upset you, nor does he want to be the cause of any sorrow that might affect your heart.
When the two of you stand at the threshold once more, just as you have other times before, you softly say: âI feel like Iâm experiencing a dĂŠjĂ vu.â
He laughs, because it sounds ridiculous. âCare to explain why?â
âYou come, we talk, you leave.â You lean against the wall, your hand ghosting over the handle. âBut you never stay that long.â
Thereâs no mistaking the layered meaning in your words. You, who work with language and its peculiarities for a living, never speak by chanceâevery phrase, every pause, carries an assigned weight. The double meaning in your statement doesnât escape either of you.
Youâre a natural at this madness, diving headfirst into it. You must be losing it, too, because your actions donât match what you said before.
Slowly, his fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the perfect excuse to feel your skin, to close the distance without saying what he actually wants.
They say food and shelter are the basic human needs, but Logan chooses to believe they forgot to include the longing to reach out and just feel you.
âI canât stay,â he finally responds to your earlier comment, his hand still lingering against your skin.
His strengthâthe only thing saving him from completely giving inâhelps him pull himself away.
Before the impulse to kiss you becomes too overwhelming to resist, Logan leaves.
Some time later, youâre making lunch, music playing softly in the background at the same time the cityâs distinct noise finds a way to break through your tranquility.
You rely greatly on the knowledge that youâre good at multitaskingânow more than ever, with a book in one hand and the other stirring the pasta on the stove.
The warmth from the pot rises around you, but you trust yourself not to be careless. Not to be stupid enough to burn yourself with the boiling water.
This time, you miscalculate. Not only do you dip the wooden spoon into the pot, but your fingertips too.
Though it only lasts a second, and the voice in your head instantly screams Hot! Hot! Hot!, the shock makes you drop the book to the floor. You yank your hand back, racing to the sink to run it under cold water.
âFuck,â you grumble, watching the skin redden in protest. âLesson learned: no more multitasking.â
The funny thing is, just a door away, Loganâs watching a movie with Wade when he feels a sting in the tips of his fingers.
Itâs barely there, practically faint, but he looks down, inspecting his hand like it doesnât belong to his own body. His skin briefly flushes with irritation before returning to its normal state.
Wade notices his distraction. âHey, you okay?â
Logan pays no mind to it. âSure. Just felt something strange.â
Is it still called avoiding if youâre both doing it? Youâd like to think so.
For the sake of clarity, letâs say youâve been actively avoiding Logan, but truth be toldâheâs been avoiding you too. That last encounter in your apartment didnât help matters at all.
If anything, it made everything worse.
Youâve been down this road before, knowing men like him too well: theyâre everywhere, until theyâre not.
One day, they vanish without a trace, leaving you staring at the empty space they used to occupy, asking yourself âWhat happened to my Prince Charming in disguise?â
They disappear as though they never existed, and not even the best detective can track them down.
So far, your avoidance strategy has worked wonders. Maybe itâs for the best. Heâs a distractionâan undeniably attractive one, the kind anyone would want to trip over.
Yet you miss him, which is dumb: why are you missing someone you were never supposed to care about in the first place?
You return home after a long trip to the grocery store, arms laden with bags. Itâs the kind of errand that exhausts you, though you keep telling yourself itâs better than thinking about him.
As you struggle to get through the building's exit, you resign yourself to the fact that itâll take several trips to bring everything up to your apartment.
Then the elevator doors slide open, and you drop everything to the floor.
You shouldâve known better than to assume victory so soon. After days of successfully avoiding him, there he is.
And of course, itâs when you look your worstâtired from running around, weighed down by groceries, barely holding it together.
âHey,â he greets you, standing just outside the elevator, like heâs not sure if he should step inside or stay where he is. Heâs dressed in a red-and-black flannel shirt, layered over a white vest, a leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, and a pair of jeans that seem made for him.
He looks... ridiculously good.
âHi,â you manage to answer after a beat, scrambling to collect the bags youâd dropped. âJustâgive me a second.â
âLet me help you,â Logan says, ducking down to gather the groceries, but you pull them away.
âIâve got it. Are you going out? On a date, maybe?â You nod toward his clothes, trying to keep things light, teasing even.
Glancing down at himself, a crease appears between his brows, and in one swoop, he gathers all the bags with a single hand. âIâm supposed to meet Wade at a bar, but heâll survive without me.â
âLogan, you donâtââ
But heâs already moving, one hand tugging you out of the elevator, the other gesturing toward your apartment.
âNot up for debate,â he mutters. Then, without waiting for permission, he holds out his hand. âKeys.â
Sighing, you dig into your pocket and drop them into his open palm. He unlocks the door with practiced ease, stepping inside and placing the bags on your kitchen counter.
As he starts to unpack them, you stop him. âYou really donât need to do that.â
That seems to catch his attention. He pauses, turning toward you with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the counter.
His unrelenting stare sizes you up, and he cocks his head to the side. âHavenât seen you in a while.â
He thinks heâs so discreet, so smooth. âWell, Iâve been busy,â you explain, fiddling with the frayed edge of your sweater, tugging at it like it might unravel your nerves.
You hear him click his tongue. âBeen busy too.â His words hang in the air, thickening the atmosphere. Your body tenses, and you stare at his shoes, untilâ âSweetheart,â he calls you softly, and your eyes snap shut for a moment, your chin almost pressing against your chest. âMy eyes are up here.â
A quick flutter of your lashes brings you back to him, and your chest tightens with the effort it takes to look into his eyes. âDonât you have somewhere to be?â you ask, praying heâll let this go.
You watch as his mouth twitches with something halfway between a smile and a smirk. âYou already want me to leave?â
âIf you have plans, then yeah.â
He huffs out a laugh, inhaling a shallow breath like youâve missed something obvious. âWade can wait. Heâll be fine.â His expression shifts, and the playful tone in his voice falls away, replaced by something more raw. âYouâve been avoiding me.â
You canât help but snort. âOh, please. Like you havenât been doing the same.â You walk over to the couch, feeling your legs wobble beneath you. You collapse into one corner, hoping the distance will help you breathe.
Like a shadow, Logan follows after you, sitting far too close. His legs splay wide, so wide theyâre almost grazing yours.
âAt least I have a reason for it. What about you?â His hand reaches out, fingers closing around yours in a grip thatâs both firm and gentle, enhancing your anxiety. Your throat tightens, the room shrinking around you. âI need you to tell me Iâm not crazy,â he says, his voice rough and low. âI need you to tell me you feel it too.â
Panic flares in your chest, and you scramble for time. âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you mutter, but your voice cracks, the uncertainty leaking through the cracks in your bravado.
He doesnât buy your acting. âYou do. We canât keep playing dumb. Youâre gonna make me lose my fuckinâ mind one of these days.â
Itâs not just his wordsâitâs the way he stands so close, heat radiating from his body, the roughness of his hand gripping yours like heâs terrified youâll slip away.
The intensity of it all weighs on you in ways you canât even begin to describe, leaving you breathless, caught between denial and desire.
âLogan, this isnâtââ
âWhat? Okay?â Thereâs a glimpse of mirthlessness in his tone as he speaks, his forehead furrowing. âI canât stay away from you, donât you see it? It feels too good to be wrong,â he utters, inching forward. You know you should take a step back, tell him to stop. Nothing good can come from this. âIt takes two to feel these things. It canât be just me.â
âThat doesnât mean we have to give in.â Blood pounds in your ears, your pulse racing as your heart hammers unpleasantly. Little shivers of ice run through your spine, and yet, your stomach burns with desire.
More than ever, you feel yourself slipping, your sanity at risk.
Logan runs his eyes up and down your face, agitated, almost going cross-eyed. âEarlier you asked if I was going on a date. Would you like that? Me being with other people? Kissing another woman?â His hot breath caresses your cheek, and you avert your gaze momentarily. âAnswer me.â
Donât do it. For the love of God, donât. âI canâtâI donâtââ
âCome on, baby.â
âI donât want you to be with other people,â you mumble, your lips almost grazing his, and thatâs all he needs to grip your chin and pull you into a kiss.
His mouth moves hungrily over yours, pushing you back until the armrest digs into your lower back. A choked whimper gets lost in your throat, and you bring him closer by grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket, your chest pressing against his.
Logan bites down on your lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, and the moan you let out reverberates in the apartment.
âThis is what you were hiding from me?â he rasps, his forehead bumping against yours. âThese sweet sounds you make?â
You end up perched in his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. Heâs hard beneath you, and as you shift, your center makes contact with his erection through the layers of fabric.
Both of you sigh into each otherâs mouths, your hips moving on their own accord, rocking slightly against his clothed cock. He hooks one of his arms around your waist, guiding your movements.
Everything seems to fall into place. Outside your window, birds chirp. The world feels lighter, like a better place. The beast inside you quiets, and for once, your mind is blissfully blank.
Logic? Error 404ânot found.
You tug at his hair, and Logan growls, breaking the kiss. âDo that again.â He jerks under your touch, bucking up into you. Encouraged, you pull his hair again, fingers wrapping around a strand at the nape of his neck, and youâre rewarded with a deep groan.
Heâs dizzy for it, but youâre no better, not when he trails his kisses down your neck, his mouth latching onto your skin, tasting the sweat and salt.
âI canât control myself around you,â he murmurs, groping your tits, and you wail, the ache between your legs becoming intolerable. His hands slip under your sweater, caressing the scars on your back.
Thatâs when recognition settles over you.
What are you doing? And why are you doing it?
He ceases sucking your flesh when you go rigid on top of him. Pecking your lips once again, Loganâs hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks. âWhatâs wrong?â
You donât understand how he does it, how he can remain so calm. Doesnât he realize the gravity of this? âWe have to stop.â
âWhy?â
âDonât ask me something you already know the answer to.â
His arms drop to his sides, releasing you from his hold. You push yourself off him, away from the couch, putting as much distance between you as you can.
Pressing your palms to your eyes, you shake your head. âGod, Iâm stupid. This is stupid.â
Your reaction seems to get on his nerves, his frustration somehow increasing. Logan stands, towering over you. âWas it stupid when you were dry humping me?â
âFuck you, Logan.â
âIâm not the bad guy here. You kissed me back.â He doesnât let up, trailing behind you as you try to escape. âYou want me as much as I want you.â
âWill you stop saying that?â you bark, throwing your arms in the air. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. âYeah, we like each other. So? Does that make it right? How can you just ignore how wrong this is?â
His expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. âForget your idea of what's good and bad. You're just upset you can't control what you feel.â
âHeâs closer than ever.â
Logan gawks at you, his voice bitter as he goes on with his rambling. âThat fucker again? Donât you ever get tired of talking about someone who you donât even know? Because youâre certainly wearing me out.â
âYou wish you were him, donât you?â You jab your finger into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a flutter you choose to ignore. âYou want to be my soulmate.â
âDamn right I do,â he practically spits his words, narrowing his eyes at you. âBut Iâm not him.â
âNo. Youâre not.â
Everything seems to fall out of place. Outside your window, birds donât chirpâthey scream for mercy. The world doesnât feel lighter, but heavier. The beast inside you roars back to life, restless and louder than ever, while your mind spins in chaos.
âWe shouldnât see each other anymore.â Your voice pierces through the thick silence in the room, and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat.
âIf thatâs what you want,â he replies, his jaw clenched tight, irritation radiating off him in waves.
âItâs what we both need.â
âSpeak for yourself. I donât have a soulmate.â His tone is biting, but you donât miss the undercurrent of longing in his words. âBut if in any other universe I do, I hope itâs you.â
Your hand turns the knob, and then heâs halfway out the door, sparing you one last glance before he turns his back to you.
No more visits. No more books. No more bruising kisses that leave you questioning your mere existence.
Let things stay as they areâitâs safer that way. You donât want to know the reason behind this forceful need.
After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, heâll stay holed up in Wadeâs apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? Youâll forget about him. Easy-peasy.
It didnât go well in the end.
You remember your first heartbreakâseventeen, fresh out of high school. One of your hands clutched a million dreams, and the other, a pillow soaked with your tears.
Your mother remained by your side, caressing your back, attempting to soothe the sobs that racked your body. She murmured that itâd pass, that you wouldnât feel like this forever. You believed her then, and trusted that things would eventually be okay.
Almost ten years later, another heartbreak shouldnât come as a surprise. By now, you thought you wouldâve developed the tools to survive it. You should be able to piece yourself back together by instinct.
But life, as it turns out, has a peculiar way of catching you off guard.
Whether itâs pent-up horniness, touch-starvation, or genuine affectionâit doesn't change the fact that your pseudo-relationship with Logan fell apart.
Though youâre not the one whoâs suffering the most. Neither is Logan.
Wade, the third party in this tangled mess, has somehow taken it the hardest.
âI feel like a child of divorce,â he says, his head resting on your lap, eyes distant as they fixate on the peeling wallpaper. âYou need to do something about that.â
âIâll take care of it next month.â
Heâs supposed to be the one supporting you, but it feels like the roles are reversedâyouâre comforting him, letting him vent.
âMy two favorite people now canât even be in the same room. What are we gonna do for Christmas? New Year's Eve?â Straightening up, he grabs the nearest cushion and buries his face into it to muffle a defeated scream. âDamn it, Cupid! You had one job!â
All in all, Wadeâs emotionally unavailable at the moment, grieving your separation from Logan as if it were his own loss, too caught up in his melodrama to be of any real help.
Meanwhile, you fill your days with work, books, anything to keep your mind occupied.
You go to bed too late, you wake up too early. Sleep too little, cry too much.
One thing stays constantâyou and Logan donât talk. Stolen glances in the hallway, awkward elevator ridesâthose are the only remnants of whatever you once were. Back to being strangers again.Â
Well, not really. Strangers donât know the route to your mouth the way he does.
The ache lingers every day. Missing him when youâre awake is a common occurrence. At night, as you toss and turn beneath the sheets, he stars in your dreams. You canât recall the last time he wasnât lodged in your thoughts.Â
Where there used to be ideas, creativity, and plots worth scribbling down, thereâs now only Loganâa man destined to problematize your stay on earth.
That fucker again? Donât you ever get tired of talking about someone who you donât even know? Because youâre certainly wearing me out.
And yet, despite all of it, you continue to prioritize someone else. Someone who isnât even here. Clung to the idea of a soulmate, you chose him over Logan.
What did he expect? For you to abandon your principles, your belief in destiny? Itâs who you are. Nearly thirty years of life guided by one belief canât just be discarded like trash.
You liked to separate things into categories: good and bad, right and wrong. A simple method to structure everything, to make sense of your world, and it has worked most of the time.
But now? The limits of those sacred categories look blurred. Your judgment feels unreliable, and you wonder if the choices youâve made lately have been the correct ones.
Each of your decisions seems to be leading you further down a path you canât recognize.Â
Whatâs the goal? Finding your soulmate, the voice in your head mockingly answers for the hundredth time, rolling its imaginary eyes. And where is he?
Youâve shut Logan out, a man whoâs made it clear he has feelings for you, for this elusive person. Isnât it time he steps into the light at long last?
This is what you fear the most: loneliness.
You donât want to be the lone woman who sits by herself in a cafe, drawing pity from waitresses who discuss her solitude. By no means do you wish to be that friend who dispenses wise dating advice, but goes home to an empty bed. You refuse to become the godmother whose hand no one holds when her time comes.
No, this canât be all fate has to offer to you. There must be more. If your life were a book, youâd be flipping through the pages to the last chapter, desperate to see how it ends.
Or, better yet, youâd grab a pen and rewrite it yourself. What kind of ending youâll haveâyouâre not so sure about that.
Itâs Sunday, one of those endless weekends where the only way to survive is by rearranging your entire apartment. You could manage it alone, but help would be niceâWadeâs help, to be more precise, would be perfect for this kind of task, and you find yourself knocking on his door.Â
No answer. Deciding to dial his number to see if heâs fallen asleep, you try calling him, waiting through the rings until he finally picks up. âHey.â
Except itâs not Wadeâs voice that answers. âIâm sorry, who is this?â
The door swings open, and Logan appears right behind it, holding Wadeâs phone to his ear.
He narrows his eyes, leaning against the frame, a single eyebrow lifted in curiosity. âHow sad. You donât remember what I sound like.â
You feel foolish for still being on the call, so you lock your phone, ending it. âWhereâs Wade?â you ask, frowning as you hold your breath, your voice sharper than intended.
âOut and about. Didnât tell me where he was going,â Logan replies, glaring at you as he raises the phone to your face. âHe left without this.â
Abort mission! Nodding in agreement, you begin to step back. âGreat, Iâll look for him later.â
Youâre close to being locked up once again in the safety of your apartment when you hear him: âYou need anything?â
Itâs the most heâs said to you in weeks. You hesitate, keeping your back turned. âIâm moving some heavy stuff around. Thought I could use the help.â
âI could do it.â
No. Not really. Heâs doing that thing againâoffering help when you know you shouldnât accept it. You shake your head.
âItâs not necessary,â you say, forcing a casual tone.
âDoesnât have to mean anything,â he retorts, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as they draw closer. With each passing second, your options shrink, leaving you no room for retreat. âDonât worry. I wonât try to kiss you again if thatâs whatâs got you all worked up.â
âIâm not worked up,â you hiss, and he sidesteps you easily, his arm nudging yours.
The electricity is still there, undeniable, but neither of you has the courage to acknowledge it, acting as though itâs an ordinary occurrence.
His eyes roam the room, like heâs forgotten what your apartment looked like. He pauses by the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spine of Jane Eyre, and a low whistle escapes him as he slips it back into place.Â
You, frozen at the threshold, feel your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and the urge to hide in your bedroom only becomes stronger.
After this, youâll have to burn your favorite book. What a pity.
âWhat do you want me to do?â he asks, hooking his fingers into the loops of his jeans, his posture both confident and annoyingly relaxed.
Thereâs a challenge in his tone, and he acts as if youâre the one who pulled him into this situationâlike he didnât worm his way in here.
You gesture toward the couch. âCan you put it by the window?â
He sets to work, moving the smaller pieces of furniture aside to make space for the couch. Under no circumstances are you going to just stand there and watch him sweat.
Instead, you busy yourself with the long-forgotten glasses and cups gathering dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, each one glinting with past disappointments.
Wetting a towel, you start by wiping the rims. The air feels heavily charged with uneasiness, but you're relieved that for once, you can breathe without feeling like youâre on the brink of a heart attack.
You can already imagine Wadeâs face when you tell himâ
âSo,â Loganâs voice cuts through the silence, startling you, âhowâs the search going? Got any luck?â
His words have the desired effect on you, and the glass slips from your grasp, shattering against the floor in a crash that mirrors the jump of your heart. You curse under your breath, stepping back from the mess, taking in the shards sprawled around your shoes.
âBe careful,â he says from the other side of the room, still dragging the furniture into place, and you scrutinize him over your shoulder, your brows knitted.
âI donât need your advice,â you murmur through gritted teeth as you crouch to pick up the larger shards. His attention returns to the couch, but you guess heâs not technically thinking how nice of a person you are.
As you kneel, your hands tremble slightly, and you wonder when that started. You fumble for a larger shard of glass, bracing your hand against the floor for balance, unaware of the smaller piece lying dangerously close to your fingers.
The sting comes fast, slicing through the skin of your pinky. You flinch, raising your hand, and Logan, hearing the faint wince, abandons his task and crosses the room to you.
"I donât need your advice," he echoes, mocking your tone as he squats beside you, his hand closing around yours to inspect the wound. "Youâre bleeding."
âBrilliant observation, Sherlock. I hadnât noticedââ The words die in your throat, your eyes widening as you take a closer look at his hand. âWait, why are you bleeding?â
He snorts, diverting his attention to his own hand. âWhat do you mean Iâmââ Whatever it is he intended to shoot back remains unsaid as both of you stare down at the small cut in his pinky.
Driven by instinct, you place your hands side by side, your finger grazing his. The cuts are identical: same place, same width, same depth. The only difference is his vanishes within seconds, leaving only a few droplets of crimson blood as evidence.
Logan couldnât have cut himself. He was nowhere near the glass. âAre youâŚ?â You swallow thickly, trying to string together a coherent thought, dizziness making its triumphant appearance. âAre you thinking what Iâm thinking?â
âYes.â
âAnd what is thatââ
âI need a drink.â
âCan you stop acting like a dick for one second?â You peer into his glossy eyes, watching him try to avoid your gaze, though he canât seem to resist. âPlease, Logan. Look at me.â
When he does, his mouth parts as if to speak, then closes again. âI donât understand. I thought I didnât have a soulmate.â His gruff tone slows even further, like he's straining to push the words from his lungs. âI thoughtâI thought I was alone.â
It explains so much: how your scars had reappeared once he and Wade returned from The Void.Â
The instant attraction, the yearning to be near him.
The dread that washed over you each time he walked away.
The dreams that plagued your nights, and the tightness in your chest these past few weeks that made you wonder if you could ever coexist in the same space as him without breaking apart.
All those times you felt he was getting closer werenât just a figment of your imaginationâhe was, in fact, right there.
But he wasnât just anyoneâit was him. Logan is your soulmate. You two are meant to be together. How long would it take for you to truly believe it? Until it no longer sounded like something too good to be true?
Without uttering a sound, Logan gazes at you, silently pleading to see them. To see your scars. You extend your arm, and with a gentle motion, he rolls up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the marks etched into your skin.
He runs his fingers along the lines, trying to understand the bond you now shareâboth his and yours.
In a sense, youâre his. You carry his scars, the physical manifestation of the life he has lived. Even though he may not bear any of his own, you do, and thatâs more than enough.
He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.
âThere are more,â you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. He stands, offering you his hand, and you take it, rising to your feet. Logan inches closer, his mouth hovering just above yours, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek.
The look he gives you is one reserved for those he loves, a look filled with such warmth and affection that it almost feels dreamlike.
âDo you want me to see them?â he inquires, and all he needs is a nod from you to gently tug your shirt up your chest and over your head.
He lets out a dry chuckle when you attempt to tame your hair, the effort proving to be in vain. The clock on the wall seems to pause its ticking the moment his fingers begin to trail each of the scars that captures his gaze.
You canât even begin to fathom what thoughts might be swirling in his mind, but if the flicker of lust and desire you catch in his expression is anything to go by, youâre not so worried.
Loganâs touch carries an unexpected softness, a tenderness you never imagined a man like him could possess.
Deep down, you wish he understood that these scars donât hurt, that they never have. âIâm okay,â you reassure him, prompting him to explore more of your skin, to claim you as his.
âDo you⌠like them?â he asks without meeting your eyes.
Do you like my scars? is the real question hidden underneath.
Do you like me? is the one he canât bring himself to pronounce.
âTheyâre yours. I could never not like them.âÂ
Before you stands a man you once believed was meant to be your burden, your trial. Logan had been the earthquake sent to test your endurance, to see how much you could withstand before surrendering and waving the white flag.
The same fingers that once imprinted his mark on you now linger on the strap of your bra, waiting for you to decide whether to let him go further or stop.
Desire has a limit before it overwhelms. Thereâs only so much need a person can contain before it spills over, uncontrollable and raw.
This game, one you never learned how to play, feels as foreign to him as it does to youâneither of you knows the rules.
âCan I see more?â Heâs still talking about the scars, still fumbling with the strap, and you nod, your eyelids growing droopier as you take his free hand and direct it to the front of your jeans.
He catches the hint, undoing the button with ease, allowing you to shed the last layers of restraint.
Bare, moments away from being completely naked, standing in stark contrast to Logan, who remains fully clothed, your stomach does a flip as he rubs his thumb along the sides of your underwear.
Leaning your forehead against his shoulder, you stifle a sigh when he splays his hand across your lower back, pulling you closer.
His rough grip tightens on your ass, testing the feel of you, while your breathing becomes shallow, erratic.
âWhat is it, honey?â He slides his fingers your stomach, just below your belly button, brushing a small scar in there. âWant me to touch you?â
âYes,â you croak, the plea slipping out involuntarily, throwing your arms around his neck. He buries his face against your jaw, his lips parting against your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.
You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to him, breathless as you whisper: âIâve waited so long.â
He moves toward the couch, and you follow, trying to anticipate what heâs got planned for you. âI know, baby. I know. Youâve waited long enough.â Guiding your body down, he has you lying horizontally on the sofa. He unhooks your bra, kneading your breasts with both hands, eliciting a ragged gasp from you. âBut Iâm here now. You donât have to wait any longer,â he huffs by your ear, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and inviting. âGonna let me make you feel good? Show you how much Iâve been thinkinâ about you?â
Instead of answering with real words, you surge forward, crashing your lips against with his, reveling in the way he cages you with his biceps, locking you up in a prison of desire from which you never wish to break free. He tries not to settle his full weight on top of you, attentive not to crush you.
As he nips at the column of your throat, you squirm beneath him, canting your hips up to seek the friction you crave.
He presses his knee against your center and you push back, grinding against him with an animalistic urgency.
You canât recall ever feeling this desperate, this overwhelmed by a man. But then again, heâs unlike any other youâve encountered in your array of momentary hookups.
His kisses grow even more insistent as breathy moans roll off to your tongue, merging with the occasional creak of the couch beneath your movements.
Logan spreads your thighs wider, sinking to his knees on the floor to tug your lower half forward until your ass is almost hanging in the air. He places your thighs on his shoulders, supporting you as he leans in to pepper your soft flesh with kisses.
One can be certain that heâs marking your inner thighs with a hickey or two, the scratch of his beard feeling magnificent against your sensitive skin, and you can hardly bring yourself to think about the potential burn heâll leave behind. Logan inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dangerously close to your cunt, and you tangle a hand in his hair as he continues to test your patience.
âEager?â he wonders aloud, looking at you through his lashes. While maintaining eye contact, he presses a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties.
He does it again, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers deftly pulling your underwear down your legs.
The first drag of his tongue along your folds has you scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair. Logan moans against you, the sound muffled as he dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance, lapping at your arousal with an insatiable hunger.
The way you purr his nameâa soft caress, a pat on his back that says Yeah, youâre doing fineâonly spurs him on, infusing every one of his ministrations with fervor.
His longing for you radiates in the intensity of his touch, sending shivers through you, making you writhe because of his hands alone.
Your core throbs. Your skin prickles with electricity. Your legs quake on either side of his face. Heâs hungry and youâre his feast. Heâs parched and youâre the last bottle of water in an arid world.
Logan eats you out like this will be the only time heâll have the privilegeâeach movement calculated, pushing all the right buttons, pulling out every trick he knows to make you think No, it doesnât get any better than this. This is as much as one can get.
Then his fingers join the symphony of pleasure, pumping in and out of you as he keeps flicking your clit with expert precision, and your back arches from the couch, following his pace with your hips. He pushes back, you push forwardâhe pushes forward, you push back.
Who is enjoying this more: him or you?
His pointed tongue teases your bud, matched with the persistent hammering of his fingers plunged into your wet heat. The combination has you coming on his mouth, falling over the precipice while you struggle to keep yourself together.
Your walls flutter around his digits, and your cries fuse with his groans, both overshadowed by his insatiable desire to savor until the last drop of your release.
Shockwaves ripple through your body and you prop your weight on your arms to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, your eyes rolling rolling back in ecstasy as you taste yourself, a mix of sour and sweet.
In a frenzy, he sheds his clothes, practically tearing them away, and you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with your kisses. Logan pulls back, panting against you, and you steal a glance at him.
Your gaze travels down to his hard cock, the tip a furious red, and he seizes your wrist.
âWhy donât you kiss it better?â he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. In this moment, youâre taken aback by his beauty, and the urge to express it rises within you.
âYouâre so beautiful,â you murmur against his thigh, showering his skin with heated kisses. You stare in disbelief at the trail of hair leading to his girth, mouth watering at the sight.
A kiss on the tip, followed by a broad lick along a prominent veinâLoganâs grip on the armrest tightens, his knuckles turning white. âSo perfect.â
âShut up,â he retorts breathlessly, but you revel in the strangled noise that escapes him as you take him deeper, his head disappearing between your lips. His palm rests on your nape, anchoring you in place. âGoddammit. The fuckinââmouth you have on you.â
You try to take him in further once youâre feeling more confident, while Logan fights with all his might against the need to thrust his hips up into your warmth. He canât stay still, grunting and smothering you with lavish praise that heightens your arousal, slick pouring out of you in waves.
âPretty thing you are. Donât even know how to function around you. You got me allâfuck, actinâ all stupid.â
At one point, he tells you to stop, because he doesnât want to come just yet. You know what comes next as he rubs his cock along your folds, blending your wetness with his precum.
Itâs sloppy, and dirty, and messyâand God, do you love it.
He sinks into you and the world collides in a way you never expected. Everything you thought you knew falls apart, leaving you stranded in unfamiliar territory.
You canât comprehend how youâve spent so many years without him. Without this.
Your lips find his, and he swallows every sound he punches out of your lungs. His thrusts grow harder and faster as you adjust to his size, how big he feels inside you.
He digs his fingers into the globes of your ass, yanking you towards his shaft every time he fucks into you. You feel the brush of his balls against your skin, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.
To this day, itâs still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.
You come to understand it fully as his eyes flicker to yours, checking for any signs of discomfort in your features.
You understand why people write books and songs about love when he breathes your name in the shell of your ear, chanting how good youâre taking him, how tight and wet you are for him.
You understand the place love occupies in your life as the sound of your bodies slapping together creates a melody which has never been played before.
You understand why youâve searched for this your entire life, lifting every carpet in hopes of uncovering the love youâve pined for.
In the past, it had always felt like a raceâfinding your soulmate before the clock struck twelve. Now that you have him, you wonder what the future holds for you, how this connection will evolve.
For now, you can allow yourself the possibility of relishing the drag of his cock in your interior. His pace doesnât falter for a secondâsomething about mutants and their non-stop stamina, no doubt. He shoves a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing circles on your already swollen bud.
Each time he fills you to the brim, you have to ground yourself, resisting the pull of an altered reality.
âSo full,â you blurt out, mewling with a specially hard thrust, a chocked sob lodged in your throat. âPlease, stay.â
It could mean many things: Please, keep fucking me. Please, donât leave after this. Please, remain by my side form this moment onward, because I donât know how to go on with my life now that Iâve experienced this closeness.
Whatever meaning he ascribes to your words is of little importance. He tightens his arms around you, kissing you deeply, tongue and teeth clashing as they compete to see who wins the battle. âNever. Iâm never lettinâ you go, yâhear me?â
Heat pools in your lower back, a coiling tension radiating through your limbs. âYouâre mine, princess. Canât afford to lose you now that I found you. Gonna remind you every day.â
His rambling pushes you over the edge, your dripping cunt spasming around him as you reach your climax, moaning his name against his shoulder. You cling to him, convulsing beneath his body, and he grinds his hips into yours, his chest rumbling as he growls.
âInside,â you mumble, extending your hand to press it to his waist. âNeed you inside me. Please, I want it so bad.â
Logan stutters against you, his forehead falling against your collarbone as he finishes with one powerful thrust, his cock pulsing warm ropes of come within your cunt. You clench around him, whining as he prolongs both your pleasure and his, milking the last drop of his seed. His voice is a constant murmur, filling every space in the room until he slumps against you.
Night has fallen. The cut on your pinky no longer stings. Your scars, after all, are still there, nestled against Loganâs unmarked skin. You caress his back, sighing contentedly as a wave of peace washes over you.
Youâve never felt this relaxed.
Logan grasps your chin and tilts it up, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. âHey,â he mutters, his gaze roaming all over your face.
You cup his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your palm. âHey, stranger. Long time no see.â
A genuine laugh pierces through the silence. the kind he rarely allows himself. Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes, his brow furrowing as he glances at you with love.
Loveâhadnât you pondered its existence for so long? Your fuel for living, the muse behind your best poems, a recurring motif in your fantasies.
Love now has Loganâs name written in ink, no longer a blank canvas awaiting its unknown owner. Noâitâs all his now.
Youâd do it all over again if it meant ending up like this, tangled and intertwined, with the promise of a future together. He has many stories to shareâabout his past universe, about himself. You have secrets to unveil, too. Thereâs so much you both have yet to discover about each other.
But time isnât up. This isnât a race, you remind yourself: things are just getting started.
Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees youâtruly sees your longing for itâit flees, and you struggle to keep up. Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.
Finally, youâve wrapped love around your finger.
dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine x you#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#logan james howlett#james howlett#wolverine angst#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine#wade wilson#logan x reader#logan x you#logan xmen#wolverine xmen#wolverine x y/n#the worst logan x reader#the worst wolverine#worst wolverine#logan howlett x f!reader#james logan howlett#deadpool 3#the wolverine x reader
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care
Youâve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.
Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstonesâit felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.
After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like thatâno goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.
But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, sheâd live despite everything, and you wouldnât be left alone.
Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldnât accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.
When the monitors finally went flat, you couldnât feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.
You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didnât even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world youâd known.
After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong.Â
None of it was a choice you should have to make.Â
It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?
You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didnât require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give.Â
Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.
Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafeâs as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how heâd react if he found out about this. Heâd most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.
Ruthieâno chance youâd involve her. Sheâd just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was âfriendâ only in the loosest sense of the word.
Kelce was the last person youâd consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things heâd regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just⌠mean.
So that left Sarah.Â
It felt weird, thinking of her as the person youâd call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt⌠safe. She wouldnât judge, wouldnât pry, sheâd seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and sheâd keep this private, just for you.
Itâs then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.
You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, theyâd just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what youâd been through.Â
The truth was, they didnât know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sisterâs hand, begging her to stay alive. They didnât know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.
Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: âIâm pregnant", just those two words, to someoneâs face, you had no idea what to say next.
Maybe youâd tell them that it wasnât about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldnât bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.
Earlier that morning, youâd stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarahâs name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feelâreaching out, when youâd prided yourself on surviving alone.Â
You didnât have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.
Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late fatherâs foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.
The board members of the foundation probably thought it would âgroundâ youâremind you of your privilege, of your âresponsibilityâ to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.
But, still, youâd show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people.Â
Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasnât even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean.Â
Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole âsave the planetâ thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his âIâm just here for the rideâ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that werenât just calculated moves.
She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.
You werenât friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.
You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit youâd been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you.Â
Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beachâs ecosystem.
You didnât have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The âeffortlessâ philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle youâd never bought into. It didnât matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charityâs social mediaâyou knew youâd rather be anywhere else.
You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have leftâprobably should have.
You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!
You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didnât have a noticeable bump yet.
Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.
You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.
One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, âAre you okay?âÂ
You smiled, brushing it off as if you werenât about two seconds away from collapsing. âOf course. Just... need a second.âÂ
The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldnât look them in the eye. It wasnât their fault. They just didnât understand that sometimes the grown-ups didnât know what they were doing either.Â
Just a few more bags of trash and youâd be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.
This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.
Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.
Youâd long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didnât hate you.
Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.
Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.
"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.
How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much âgroundingâ could one person take?
You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "Iâm fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, itâs fine,â you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you.Â
Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.
You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.
The last time youâd been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. Sheâd forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadnât punched him then and there.
 âYou should sit down.â
It felt like a sidekick to your chest.
The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something youâd said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset.Â
Except this was real.
Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was Godâs gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.
You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.
âGo away. Iâm fine.â
But he didnât move.
Heâd been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical.Â
âNo,â he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. âIâve seen you almost fall three times now.â
âMaybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldnât have to see me âalmost fall.â
âI wasnâtâ"
You grounded your teeth, âJust go back to surfing.â
Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. âYeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.â
He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.
âDonât act like you care.â you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.
He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didnât want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice heâd made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.
âWater would help, yâknowâ, his tone just shy of patronizing âYou canât go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.â
âWhat the fuck is that supposed to mean?â
Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.
The kidâstill standing there, eyes wide and darting between you bothâlooked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.
âLetâs not do this here,â she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water sheâd brought over, a kindness you didnât want but couldnât reject. âJust sit down for a second, please?â
JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.
âSheâs right. Just take a second, yeah?â He looked over at Rafe, âMaybe you should leave,â he said pointedly.
âMaybe you should mind your fuckinâ business Maybank.â
âLook, uh,â the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. âIâll⌠Iâll go see if anyone needs help further down the beachâŚâ
You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didnât want anyone to think they had to ârescueâ you.
You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.
"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."
You shook his hands off, "Donât tell me what to do.â
It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each otherâs skin, in love, and in hate.
He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle.Â
She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "Weâre here to help the community, remember?"
JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for yâall to work out your issues somewhere else.â
You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, âIâm fine.â
âYeah?â
He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, âYou look real fine, donât you?â He didnât even try to cloak his sarcasm.
God, he could be so exasperating.
He couldnât understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldnât imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.
As if he hadnât already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over.Â
âDonât you have something better to do?âÂ
âOh, believe me, I do,â he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you.Â
You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.
Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafeâs arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.
He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain youâd break.Â
Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.
âThatâs it. Iâm taking you to the hospital.â
âI hate to say it, but heâs right,â JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.
The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm.Â
âI told you, Iâm fine.â
He let go, but he didnât back away.
Instead, he narrowed his eyes, âYou think I donât know what fine looks like? I was there.â
He was there. And you didnât want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people.Â
He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains youâd welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldnât have to feel anything else.
Youâd wanted to disappear, and heâd been thereâdragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. Heâd seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didnât care if you made it through the day.Â
The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.
You couldnât let him find out about the baby.Â
Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion
âShit,â you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away.Â
You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.
Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach.Â
You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel.Â
Rafe.Â
Your heart poundedâyour desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.
He didnât spare you a glance, âYou passed out, genius. Iâm taking you to the hospital.â
Your whole body went rigid. âAre you insane?â
âMe?â He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. âYou practically ate sand back there. Youâre not fine.â
âTurn the car around. Iâll call my driver and be fine.â You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. âI donât need your help.â
He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you.Â
âYeah. Youâre out of your mind if you think Iâm letting you out of this car right now.â
âRafe, Iâm not kidding,â you warned, louder this time. âStop. The. Car.â
He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.
âNot happening.â
Your heart hammered as you realized he wasnât going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.
âFine, then Iâll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle.Â
Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnantâwith his baby, no less.
His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.
âAre you crazy? Get your hand off that, Iâm fuckin' serious.â
You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafeâs expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.
Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.
You didnât get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.
âOh, for fuckâs sake,â you muttered, digging your nails into your palms.Â
How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.
Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face.Â
âAre you out of your fuckin' mind?â He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.
And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when heâd reached his limit with you.
You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.
What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?
You hated yourself for caring at all.
Sofiaâthe one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.
There was no way heâd look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to âdeal with.â He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you werenât.
This wasnât who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.
âIâm sorry, am I bothering you?â You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter.Â
He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes.Â
âUnbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.â
You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else.Â
âHelp?â You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. âYou think this is help? That I need you, of all people?â
He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. âI'm trying to help."
You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.
It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasnât just irritation or sarcasm.
You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, whoâd promised you everything.
But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, youâd let him see even a hint of weakness.
âTrust me,â you shot back, âIâll be just fine without you.â
He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, âGet in the car.â
âNo,â you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldnât let him decide anything for you ever again.
âFine. Have it your way.â
In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience.Â
âPut me down!âÂ
You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didnât even flinch, didnât so much as hesitate.Â
âRafe, I swearââ
He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you downânot gentlyâonto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.
He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.
âStop!â you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.
You could feel your heart breaking all over again.
You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed himâit made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like youâd ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.
This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.
You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit.Â
âGet your hands off me.â
His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldnât stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.
âIâm not letting you kill yourself out of spite.â
Your chest hurt like youâd been run over a hundred timesâit felt suffocating. âI hate you.â
For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here.Â
His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didnât, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours.Â
A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall.Â
 "Yeah? Get in line."
Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driverâs side.
You wiped at your cheeks, furious that heâd seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape.Â
He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.
Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.
You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.
Youâd already shown him too much.Â
You didnât need a lecture from some doctor on how you âshouldâve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when heâd made it clear long ago that it wasnât. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.
You were seething. He had no right to do this.
The thought made you want to drop deadâdoctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.
You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of himâno way. You wouldnât let that happen.
He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.
You werenât moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over.Â
âCâmon,â Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. âStop being so stubborn.â
You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.
âIâm not going in.â
Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.
âLook, you passed out. Iâm not leaving until you get checked out.â
âYouâre gonna be here for a while then.â
âWould you stop?â His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. âYou look like you havenât slept in days, like you havenât eaten anything that wasnât out of a vending machine. I know you donât want my help, but can you just stop for a second andââ
âAnd what?â you interrupted.
âAnd think! If you donât get in there, Iâll drag you in myself.â
Your heart raced, âYou wouldnât dare.â
Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. âTry me.â
âYouâre not coming in."
He blinked like the idea hadnât even occurred to him. âWhat?â
Maybe he was seeing the protection youâd built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.
âI donât need you. I donât want you in there.â
âFine.â His tone was clipped, restrained. âBut Iâll be right here.â
You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. Youâd rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him.Â
âYeah, you do that,â you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.
Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through youâpart relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how heâd been such a fucking asshole to you.
Youâd forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.
âHi there,â The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, âWhat brings you in today?â
You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldnât buy it.
âJustâŚgot a little dehydrated, thatâs all.â
âOkayâŚletâs just get some basic information.â She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. âName?â
You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.
âHave you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?â
âNothing serious,â you replied, dismissively. âItâs just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and Iâll be good as new.â
This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.
She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.
âAlright, Miss Thornton, it looks like weâll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?â
A chuckle almost slipped out of you. InsuranceâGod, you were fine with insurance. What you werenât okay with was everything else. You answered, âBlue Cross.â
She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping sheâd skip any weird or invasive questions. âAny allergies?â
You shook your head. Please, just let this be over.Â
âItâs really not a big deal,â You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. âI just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.â
âOf course, dear. Weâll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.â
Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode.Â
Please, just get me in, get me out, and donât find anything.
âJust head down to Room 12.â
All you could think was that you wanted this to be overâbefore the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.
This was his fault. Youâd never be here if he hadnât shown up.
The next hour passed in secondsâquestions, forms, an IV drip.
Theyâd done blood work, too, but youâd sighed in relief when theyâd told you the results wouldnât be ready immediately. As far as they knew, youâd just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all theyâd prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.
When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didnât need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.
But you also didnât want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.
The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable âsomeoneâ to come running.
You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.
Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.
âYeah, I got someone.â
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Jamboree
~6k words, smut kinda
âI donât give a fuck.â
âWonyoung, Iâm not sure about this-â
âStop thinking,â Wonyoungâs palm ripped across your cheek, leaving a mark that you would most definitely feel the next morning. âAnd stop wasting my fucking time.â
Tonight was going to be one for the history books, you thought to yourself silently, taking a moment to appreciate how you ended up in this position.
Your work had required you to show up at this formal event full of young adults who had more money than sense and obnoxiously rich old people. Admittedly, not that you werenât well off by any means, you did feel incredibly out of place. Your job was to just show up and shake a few hands to make sure it was known that your company was present, other than that you were free to âenjoyâ the event. While most of the ambitious young people here were trying to make connections to further their careers, you found it difficult to pretend to care.
The venue was quite the spectacle, a blend of classic architecture and modern elegance, but it lacked any sort of soul. Lush velvet drapes framed the tall windows, each showcasing a view of the meticulously landscaped gardens outside. The gardens, though beautiful, appeared untouched, as if meant only for admiration rather than exploration. Overall, the venue exuded an air of extravagance, yet it felt almost too perfect - as if it were a stage made of artificial props.
Just like the atmosphere of the lavish mansion was void of allure, the people inside lacked any form of charm. Despite being impeccably dressed, they seemed to embody the very definition of tedium. Their expressions a mix of forced politeness and mild disinterest. Conversations unfolded in monotones, punctuated by the occasional polite chuckle that felt rehearsed rather than genuine.
That was, at least, until your eyes found Wonyoung. She was a princess amongst peasants - a diamond amongst coal. From the moment you saw her roaming from waiter to waiter, collecting every hors d'oeuvre she could get her hands on while impressively avoiding the dreary conversations plaguing the event, you just knew you had to talk to her.
The greatest surprise of them all? Once you finally managed to find an opening, you discovered she was actually amazing. Not just amazing, but perfect in a way. The two of you clicked instantly, it was marvelous. Never have you in your entire life felt your energy match so instantaneously with someone before. It almost - no, it definitely - made this lifeless event worth your time.
That being said, this tiny little girl had no business being this intimidating. It had to be her thanks to her confidence, something she was far from lacking, wearing a dress that barely made it to her thighs, flashing her lacy black panties to the entire world. She just had this aura, it was difficult to explain. Yet, it was even more difficult to say no to whatever she wanted, which was exactly how you found yourself in this position. Well, truthfully, her convincing nature was in part aided by the countless glasses of pretentiously priced champagne coursing through your veins.
Regardless, even if it was by pure chance, you were grateful to have been selected from the sea of Dior Sauvage that was currently downstairs, still flailing their bodies around in the name of âdancingâ. In the seven or so minutes between your eyes finding Wonyoung and the start of your conversation with her, you had seen her reject at least four advances. But you knew. The second you made eye contact with her, you knew.
âAre you going to close the door or do you plan on standing there like an idiot all night?â she scowled as she bent down and slipped off her stilettos.
By the time you shut the door behind you - making sure to lock it - Wonyoung had walked across the room towards the dresser by the window and had begun using the mirror to adjust her hair. It was almost like you werenât even in the room anymore, and you, evidently, werenât nearly as important as her hair.
The long brown strands cascading delicately down her back, flowing like a river of rich chocolate. Each individual hair shimmering as the moonlight hit from countless angles. The elegance, the grace, every movement further accentuating all the reasons this girl had to be the most supercilious woman in the building. Again, this girl had every right to be as confident as she was.
After who knows how long she spent admiring herself in the mirror, she turned on her heels to face you. A subtle frown formed on her lips as she crossed her arms, giving you a concerned look. Maybe it wasnât concern, but it was something.
âYouâre bleeding.â
Not what you expected her to say, but the scarlet smear left on your finger when you wiped your cheek confirmed it was indeed true. Only now did the sound of your heart thumping calm down enough for you to notice the sharp stinging coming from the cut.
âHuh, would you look at that,â you noted, staring at your finger.
Wonyoung stared down at her hand, where the metal band of one of her rings was blatantly stained with a patch of your blood. She looked away, spinning the ring off her finger and placing it on the dresser behind her. It seemed as though she was considering an apology, but she also didn't seem to comprehend the concept. It made you think - has this princess of a girl ever offered an apology to anyone before?
After grabbing a tissue, she crossed the room and approached you. She dabbed at your cheek, cleaning the wound. She didn't even look up at you; rather, her determined expression was fixated on the cut. Once she finished, she took your hand and wiped the blood off your finger as well before she crossed the room once more, tossing the tissue in the garbage and turning back to stare at you.
âWhat?â
âNothing,â you replied, trying your best to hold back your smile.
âThat was an accident,â she continued, stepping slowly until she was directly in front of you.
âItâs fine.â
âI wasnât apologizing.â
âOh.â
Words hung suspended between the two of you as the palpable silence enveloped you. Ignoring the minor inconvenience of her assault, Wonyoung brought you into this room for a reason. Unspoken desire filled the air as your eyes locked together. The speaking part was taken care of, that happened downstairs, now was time for action. Yet, for some reason, both of you stood there waiting for the other, a ridiculous game of chicken since you both knew what the other wanted.
âWhat are you waiting for?â Wonyoung clicked her tongue, finally conceding.
Good question. The answer, the one you just knew Wonyoung was looking for, came when you picked her up in your arms and tossed her onto the king-sized mattress. Before any more noise could follow up the high-pitched squeak of shock that escaped her lips, you took off your coat and fell on top of her body and sealed your lips against hers.
A surge of heat ignited between you and Wonyoung. The connection was overwhelming, causing the world around you to fade in and out of existence. Each subtle movement of your mouths was full of urgency, as if time itself had paused. The fact that you met this girl barely an hour ago had not an ounce of relevance in your mind.
While the pain in your cheek was a long forgotten souvenir, a new piercing sensation shot up your spine as Wonyoungâs nails dug deep into your back. You gasped into her mouth before biting down on her lip, only for her to bite yours back even harder. The raw, visceral intensity of the coppery essence hitting your taste buds made you lust for her even more - something that, a minute ago, you would not have imagined was conceivable.
Each subtle movement of your tongue was with purpose, exploring the delicate contours of hers, your tongues dancing together with intoxicating urgency. She met each of your movements with her own, even now matching your energy to a tee. The silent conversation consisting of flicks and swirls engulfed the world around you, overpowering even the thumping music downstairs where Mozart had been replaced by some generic club noise of the youth.
While Wonyoungâs hands explored every inch of your back, your own hand began roaming over her curves, tracing her body to give you a perfect image of her frame despite your eyes being closed. As your hands slid past her hips, giving them a rough but quick press with your fingers, your lips parted for the first time.
âYes,â Wonyoung gasped, her chest heaving up and down against your body.
That was it, all she was going to give you before she reached up with her hands to cup your face, pulling you back into a kiss.
With newfound inspiration, you swiftly slipped your hands up Wonyoungâs dress. As your fingers snaked their way up her thigh towards the waistband of her underwear, they paused for just a second, leaving the smallest hint of timidness. A hint that evaporated into thin air as soon as Wonyoung gasped softly into your mouth, a signal of provocation that filled your hands with boldness.
As difficult as it was, you lifted yourself up away from Wonyoungâs mouth until you were holding yourself right above her. The two of you locked eyes for just a brief second before, in one swift motion, you yanked down the lacy black panties you had been getting peeks of all night.
Wonyoung gasped again, shutting her eyes tight and arching her back towards the roof. You took the opportunity, leaving her panties at her knees, and lunged forward into her neck like a moth to a flame.
Your lips pressed deeply into her skin, absolutely intoxicated by her taste. A mix of sweetness and warmth, a temptation that left you craving more. Each consecutive kiss was met with a hitch of her breath that just made you want her even more.
Inch by inch you moved lower down her body, pressing your mouth against her clavicle a few times before slipping lower into the neckline of her dress. Wonyoungâs slender fingers pressed into the back of your head, shoving your mouth deep into her chest, pressing your face against the thin fabric covering her soft breasts. Urgency began taking over, an insatiable hunger from within, and you began lowering yourself even more. You slid all the way backwards, dropping to your knees at the edge of the bed, and you finally placed your gaze on your true prize.
Just a few irrelevant inches in front of you, Wonyoungâs pussy was there for your taking. Those delicate folds radiating tantalizing allure, glistening with the essence of desires. Each curve of her skin seemed to call to you, urging you to forget everything and to just shove your face as deep up her dress as physically possible.
Then, abruptly, your view was blocked by Wonyoungâs gentle fingers.
âYou okay?â you asked, looking up at her as she sat up at the edge of the bed.
All that confidence, that lust, that demand, it all turned to a facade in the span of seconds. In front of you wasnât that same intimidating princess that you met earlier in the night. It was a vulnerable and beautiful girl. Even after the sudden change, you were still just as attracted to the girl; If anything, you were more attracted to her vulnerable side.
âWonyoung?â
âYeah, sorry,â she shook her head and took a deep breath. âIâm good, letâs do this.â
Something just felt a little bit off. Earlier, she was so adamant about fucking you, almost to the point where you were starting to question if she was secretly part of the partyâs entertainment. If you hadnât seen her reject those other guys, you maybe would have believed she was being paid to be here, but still something felt not right.
âIf youâre having doubts-â
âNo, come on,â Wonyoung interrupted you. âI want this.â
âThen lean back,â you instructed her, deciding to take it slow until you were able to shake this feeling you had.
Wonyoung listened to you and leaned back on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. You gently spread them apart from the knees, resulting in her tiny dress riding up her body slightly. You softly grabbed her hand and moved it away, unblocking your view of her glistening pussy. As you stared at her pussy again, you helped her untangle her panties from her feet before tossing them across the room without any thought.
Your mouth began salivating uncontrollably, you just needed a taste of Wonyoungâs pussy. Showing just the slightest bit of restraint, you first grabbed both of her hands and interlocked your fingers with hers before pushing forward.
Her whole body shivered as your warm breath teased her skin, igniting the tension in the room into an inferno of heat. As soon as your lips made contact with Wonyoungâs pussy, your world flipped upside down. The subtle - yet intoxicating - taste of tangy sweetness lingered on your tongue, sending waves of warmth through your entire body.
With each exploration of Wonyoungâs pussy, your connection with her deepened. New sensations were discovered, each one hitting like a truck, overwhelming you time after time. Youâve never tasted a pussy that has had you this addicted. You wanted it all - greed began taking over.
Your lips pressed down hard against her skin, creating a seal between you and her. Electricity shot through you as Wonyoungâs breath quickened. Warmth and desire attacked both your taste and hearing now as the next lick of Wonyoungâs tantalizing mix left her moaning into the thickening air of the luxurious bedroom.
âOh fuck,â Wonyoung moaned softly, squeezing hard against your fingers.
Her addictive sweetness was overwhelming. You were losing track of time, all you could focus on was your attempt to quench this undeniable craving for her body. Nothing could stop you, not as long as she kept responding to each touch, each lick, soft gasps escaping her lips - It was a dangerous loop.
Only a few more - or maybe it was a lot more - moments of pleasure were left for you to enjoy. Before you knew it, Wonyoungâs body seized up, quivering against your lips. A rush of exhilaration surged through you as Wonyoungâs melodic gasps of pleasure began caressing your ears.
It was as if the world had exploded in a cascade of warmth. Her fingers had this newfound strength that made you feel like she was about to snap your hand in half, and her body began to arch even more as every muscle in her body tensed up. The lovely trembling of her body kept your mouth glued to her pussy, sharing in the ecstasy of her climax.
The fulfillment you had coursing through your body as you finally lifted your mouth off her pussy was impossible to compare. You stood up, admiring the absolute mess of a girl laying on the edge of the bed before you. There was no denying it, your cock was begging to be freed, to get a chance with Wonyoungâs body. Just as you unbuckled your pants and began lowering them, the most soul-crushing sound in the universe hit your ears.
âWhat the hell, who locked this?â
âIt shouldnât be, guests arenât supposed to be up here,â a second voice answered, giving the door another shake. âMaybe someone locked it earlier. Here, I have a key somewhere.â
âShit,â you whispered to Wonyoung before quickly buckling your pants back up. âWe gotta go.â
She nodded rapidly, suddenly recovering from the intensity of her orgasm just a minute ago, fear filling her pupils as she stood up and froze. You quickly grabbed your jacket and her heels before pointing to the bathroom. Wonyoung ran across the room towards the bathroom as you followed, pausing briefly to shove her ring from the dresser into your pocket - you didnât want to leave any evidence.
If your heart wasnât beating out of your chest, you would have loved to admire the beauty of the bathroom. It was like entering a luxurious spa retreat. The air was infused with a subtle blend of essential oils that were supposed to calm you down - unfortunately they werenât working. The walls, creamy marble decorated with gold highlights, created a feeling of warmth and tranquility - unfortunately this also wasnât working.
âThere,â you pointed towards a massive window above the tub. âHold these,â you handed Wonyoung her heels.
As you put on your coat quickly, you noticed again just how terrified Wonyoung was. You took a second to pause, ignoring the dire situation you had found yourself in, and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss. Her cheeks burned bright crimson as you turned back to the window, climbing onto the edge of the tub to open it.
âItâs a bit of a jump,â you admitted, looking back over your shoulder as you leaned out the window. âYou trust me?â
Wonyoung nodded, still unable to speak. She stepped forward, taking your outstretched hand, and leaned over to look out the window with you.
âI changed my mind,â she gasped, dropping her heels into the tub below you in panic.
âHey,â you wrapped your arms around her. âI donât know that much, but I do know the host of this place isnât one to be messed with.â
âBut Iâm scared,â she whispered quietly into your chest.
âI know,â you let go of her and held both of her shoulders, staring her directly in the face. âI wonât make you jump, but if you trust me, Iâm telling you itâll be fine.â
She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to the window before returning to you, but then she took a deep breath and nodded.
âPerfect,â you took her heels and dropped them out the window. You could see the pain in her eyes at the delay before the sound of them hitting the grass, but all you could do was smile meekly at her. âAlright, Iâm going to go first and then catch you, but then you need to promise me that youâll be able to jump alone.â
âI promise,â Wonyoung answered with conviction.
âGood girl,â you gave her another kiss before climbing up into the window. The edge was sharper than you expected, and you ended up cutting your hand. âFuck, be careful, itâs sharp.â
âGot it,â Wonyoung replied, helping support your body as you climbed up.
As carefully and quickly as you could, you grabbed the ledge and lowered your body out the window. After taking a deep breath, looking up at Wonyoungâs face of concern above you, you let go.
All things considered, the fall went as well as it could have. It honestly wasnât that bad as the soft grass made for a perfect landing spot. Without wasting time inspecting for any injuries, you turned your head upwards to where Wonyoung looked frozen again.
âCome on,â you whispered, knowing that you couldnât yell. âI got you, just do it.â
Sweat began dripping from your forehead as you began losing hope. She wasnât going to jump. She was too scared. Your heart began thumping out of your chest. Maybe you should have lowered her down first. Maybe you should have just opened the door and tried to make an excuse.
None of that mattered, though, as suddenly you saw Wonyoungâs feet come out of the window. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched her lower herself as low as she could. She looked down at you, making eye contact for a moment, a moment where time froze, before suddenly letting go.
It all happened so fast. One second you were looking up at her, the next second you heard her scream, and now you were on the grass with Wonyoungâs body on top of yours.
âAre you okay?â you quickly asked as adrenaline shot through your body.
âI think so,â she answered as she hyperventilated in your arms. âSorry about the scream.â
She took a moment to compose herself before getting off you and standing up. Only once she held her hand to help you up did you notice how intense the pain in your side was.
It was excruciating, the worst pain you have ever felt. You almost wanted to fall back to the ground in a crying fit, but you somehow - with the power of more adrenaline most likely - ignored it and kept your head straight.
âGrab your shoes, letâs go,â your voice far more stable than even you expected.
Without hesitation, Wonyoung followed your instructions and put her heels back on.
âShit,â she gasped, looking down at her dress.
There was a large tear on the side, exposing a patch of skin on her hip towards her back.
âItâs fine, just stay close to me,â you held your arm out for her to nestle herself next to you. It hurt like hell when her body pressed against your side, but you kept ignoring it. âWeâll have to walk around the building, if anyone asks anything just say youâre my wife and we stepped out for some fresh air and time alone.â
âOh, sure,â Wonyoung began flushing profusely at the plan.
WIthout giving it a second thought, you lowered your arm around her body and pressed your palm against the part of her dress that had the tear to cover up the skin before guiding her along the path. The two of you swiftly walked around the house, silently admiring once again how beautiful it was. You kept your heads down, making sure not to draw any attention from the windows.
Luckily, everyone inside was seemingly preoccupied in their own little worlds, not surprising considering the pretentious nature of the event. You made it to the front without any issue, all that was left was a cartoonishly long driveway. By the front door stood a couple who seemed to be having a very heated argument.
âJust keep going,â you muttered quietly to Wonyoung, walking past the couple as they began raising their voices.
It was only a couple of steps before Wonyoung began giggling at the slurs being launched into the night sky by the couple before taking off as fast as her heels allowed down the driveway. You chased after her, laughing as the pain in your side disappeared for a moment.
âI think weâre good,â you began panting with your hands on your knees as you caught your breath.
âThat was insane,â Wonyoung laughed, falling to the ground in front of you.
âI know right? That wasâŚâ your voice trailed off as you looked up and caught a glimpse up Wonyoungâs dress. âOh fuck.â
âWhat?â
âFirst of all, sorry, I didnât mean to look,â you turned your head away from her. âBut we definitely left something in the room.â
âWhat are you⌠Oh!â Wonyoung squealed, pulling her legs together tight. âYou pervert!â
âSeriously?â
âIâm kidding,â Wonyoung giggled, standing up to her feet, making what seemed to be an obviously intentional âmistakeâ of flashing her pussy at you again before fixing her dress. âItâs fine, no way theyâll be able to trace them back to me.â
âGood,â you held your hand out for her to take. âCome on, letâs get out of here.â
As the night wore on, the two of you strolled across the waterfront town, which was fortunately in a very upscale and safe area. The velvety darkness, punctuated by the tranquil glow of the moon, brought you an otherworldly level of peace - especially after the intensity of your evening.
The streets were serene, only disturbed by the sound of Wonyoungâs heels hitting the pavement in a gentle rhythm and the occasional rustle of leaves as the nightly breeze flew past you. From time to time youâd hear the sounds of laughter coming from people on their own nightly adventures being carried by the crisp and cool air.
âOh, Iâm an idiot,â you stopped abruptly and took off your coat. âSorry, mind was on other things.â
âI considered asking,â Wonyoung giggled as she accepted your coat and draped it around her shoulders. âBut I figured you werenât really the gentlemen type after I caught you looking up my dress.â
âOh come on,â you protested. âFirst of all, accident. Secondly, you didnât catch me, I confessed.â
âI know, Iâm just giving you a hard time,â Wonyoung giggled softly. âWe still need to finish what we started by the way,â she added, giving you a little nudge in the ribs.
âAh,â you gasped, inhaling sharply through your teeth.
âWhat happened? Are you hurt?â
âNo no, Iâm good,â you lied, hiding the fact that it felt like there was a knife in your ribs right now. âYou wanna sit down for a bit? Itâs gorgeous out there.â
âSure,â Wonyoung agreed, looking over at the water.
The two of you sat on the stone wall that bordered the path with your feet dangling over the edge. Now that you werenât walking, the frigid night started to hit you. Thankfully, Wonyoung understood what you wanted when you inched closer to her, and she lay her head peacefully onto your shoulder. You followed her lead, gently resting your cheek against the top of her head.
The world seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but the soft sounds of water lapping against the shore. The moonlight shimmered across the water, leading a never-ending path deep into the night. The salty sea breeze and the floral tones coming from Wonyoungâs hair pleasantly combined into a mixture of satisfaction.
It felt nice, everything that happened tonight was irrelevant now. All that mattered was this view, and the warmth of Wonyoung leaning against you. Time stood still, yet again, as the two of you silently soaked in the beauty of the world around you. The connection you felt with her felt infinite, forever to be etched into your brain.
âI need to confess something,â Wonyoung broke the silence as she stared down at her hands as if she had never seen them before. âIâve never actually been with a guy before.â
Carefully, you lifted your head off hers and turned to look down at her. She followed suit, lifting her head off your shoulder, turning to look up at you.
âWonyoung,â you paused to give her hand a little squeeze. âThis doesnât change what I think about you, but Iâm a little surprised.â
âTonight was supposed to be the night,â she continued, her eyes glowing in the moonlight. âThat was the whole reason I went to this party.â
âWell, it wasnât the reason I enjoyed my time with you tonight.â
âIsnât that why you went upstairs with me?â
âTruthfully, yes,â you admitted. âCan I ask what you meant by that being the whole reason you were there tonight?â
âExactly what I said,â she replied. âI⌠felt like itâs a bit embarrassing that I havenât done it yet.â
âI donât think itâs something you should be embarrassed about,â you said gently. âBut why at such a pretentious party filled with douchebags?â
âUm, you were also at that party,â she cocked a brow at you.
âNot by choice,â you retaliated. âYouâre the only reason I even stayed as long as I did.â
âSounds like youâre still saying you want to be my first.â
âLook, I just met you, I donât know much about you,â you replied gently after a pause to think. âBut I do know Iâve loved every second weâve spent together. I also know that I would do it all again in a heartbeat without changing a thing, even if I knew this right here was the end and we both went our separate ways.â
âReally? You wouldnât maybe change the height of the house?â Wonyoung giggled.
âNope, but maybe Iâd change the way you fell on me.â
âIâm really sorry, does it still hurt?â Wonyoungâs face suddenly turned to concern.
So, she did know how to apologize.
âItâs fine,â you smiled at her.
âYou said youâd be fine if the night ended right here and we never spoke again,â she whispered softly. âIs there any way this didnât have to be the end?â
âIs that what you want?â you asked while letting go of her hand.
She nodded slowly.
âThen no, it doesnât need to end here, Iâd love to see you again."
âThank you,â she smiled warmly. âBut you never answered my question.â
There was another pause for you to think about your answer.
âWhether or not Iâm your first, tonight is not the night for us to make that decision,â you answered carefully.
Wonyoung lunged forward and hugged you tightly. It was so sudden, you werenât prepared. Unfortunate, really, as her very pure-intentioned action ended up being the most painful event of the night; A very loud and visceral cry left your mouth as intense pain shot into your ribs.
âWhat happened?â Wonyoung gasped, immediately letting go of you in fear.
âNothing,â you winced in pain as a second wave shot up your body.
Wonyoung, as gently as she could, grabbed your shirt and slowly lifted it up.
âOh my God!â she screamed, covering her mouth with her hands as the moonlight illuminated a massive purple patch on the side of your body. âWhy the fuck have you been hiding this from me?â
âItâs fine,â you winced as you lowered your shirt back down gingerly. âJust a bruise.â
âJust a bruise?â she repeated as tears began spilling from her eyes. âIâm so fucking sorry.â
âStop, itâs fine,â you brought your hands up to her face and carefully wiped her eyes with your thumbs. âItâs not your fault.â
âYes it is! Iâm the one who-â
Her panic was silenced as you pressed your lips against hers again. You held your mouth to hers for a few seconds before slowly pulling back, leaving her staring at you with her mouth still slightly agape.
âPlease relax,â you smiled warmly. âIâll be fine.â
âShould I take you to the hospital?â
âNo.â
âCan I at least bring you back to my place?â
âItâs no big deal, donât worry.â
âPlease.â
âAlright,â you sighed, admittedly feeling quite touched by her concern. âMy place is just up the street, how about you walk me home before I call you a cab?â
âOkay,â Wonyoung leapt to her feet and held her hands out for you. âI can live with that.â
âThank you,â you graciously accepted her hands and stood up with her, wincing again in pain.
âHere, does that feel fine?â she asked as she placed your arm on her shoulder.
âI can still walk, my legs are fine,â you chuckled. âBut yes, itâs perfect.â
The walk only took a couple of minutes, during which not a single word was uttered between the two of you. Yet, somehow, it didnât feel awkward or strange. It actually felt incredibly comforting walking through the night with Wonyoung. Things were so different now compared to when you met her earlier in the night, it felt like youâve known this girl all your life.
âOne second,â you unwrapped your arm from Wonyoungâs shoulder to reach for your phone.
âI got it,â she quickly reached into your pocket, pulling it out for you.
âThanks,â you smiled at her thoughtfulness before unlocking the front door to your apartment with the app.
âSo fancy,â Wonyoung teased before stepping into the lobby with you, her heels tapping loudly against the marble floors. âI guess it makes sense considering where I found you.â
âItâs not that special,â you replied humbly. âThank you again, for everything.â
âNo, thank you,â Wonyoung responded. âAlso, does your physical condition have any bearing on your answer earlier?â
âNo,â you smiled at her. âI stand by what I said.â
âOkay, just making sure, letâs go,â she pressed the button for the elevator.
âLet me call that cab for you first.â
âNot yet,â Wonyoung held her hand over your phone. âLet me at least help you clean up the cut.â
âItâs late, I really donât want to keep you up. Iâll manage.â
âDo you have a girl upstairs waiting for you?â she asked abruptly.
âWhat? No, of course not. I live alone.â
âAre you uncomfortable with me being in your apartment?â
âNo.â
âThen letâs go,â she stepped into the elevator, arms crossed while staring at you.
âI appreciate this,â you said as you stepped in and pressed the button for your floor.
After walking down the hall towards your apartment, Wonyoung forced you to sit on your couch.
âWhereâs your medicine cabinet?â she called out to you as she walked into your kitchen.
âWonyoung Iâm fine, I promise, I just need to rest,â you called back. âJust come sit with me for a bit.â
âWhere is it?â Wonyoung walked back over, completely ignoring you, with an ice pack in her hands. âTake your shirt off.â
Realizing that she wasnât going to give up, you sighed before carefully unbuttoning your shirt and opening it up. The bruise had gotten worse, and it already looked terrible compared to earlier. In front of you, Wonyoung had stopped moving and her gaze was locked on your body.
âWonyoung?â you held your hand out for the ice pack.
âHuh? Oh, right,â she began blushing as she handed you the pack. âHold that to the bruise. Medicine cabinet?â
âBathroom mirror,â you replied, gasping as the cool ice pressed against your skin.
It was definitely soothing, and you immediately felt a bit of relief. You watched Wonyoung walk towards the bathroom, your eyes slowly closing as you began drifting out of consciousness. The next thing you remember is the softest of soft touches against your cheek.
âSorry, did I press too hard?â Wonyoung apologized gently as she continued rubbing vaseline on your cheek. âIâm leaving this one uncovered so that it heals faster and doesnât scar.â
âThank you,â you mumbled, your heart rate spiking as you opened your eyes to see Wonyoungâs face right in front of yours. Once again, she was entirely focused on the wound, her gaze never faltering.
âYouâre welcome, I wrapped your hand up as well. Are there any other injuries that you know of?â
âI donât think so,â you shook your head.
âYou didnât have anyâŚâ
Those were the last few words you heard before you faded out of consciousness again. The next time your eyes opened up was when you heard the click of your front door opening.
âStill alive?â Wonyoung called out softly when she noticed your eyes were open.
âWhat, how longâŚâ you paused to look at the ice pack, which had melted entirely by now, before continuing, â...have I been asleep?â
âLike thirty minutes or so,â Wonyoung answered casually as she sat down next to you and removed the pack. âJust rest, you can sleep again if you want.â
She pulled a little bottle out of a small bag and took the lid off before sticking two fingers into it and scooping out some of the cream.
âWhatâs that?â you mumbled.
âItâs just an anti-inflammatory,â she answered warmly before very gently rubbing her fingers against the bruise. âDoes it hurt?â she asked as you let out a little gasp.
âNo, it feels good.â
âGood, itâs supposed to,â she smiled as she continued to rub the ointment into your skin. âIâm convinced thereâs no girl living here, by the way. After seeing the state of your medicine cabinet, itâs definitely just a man here.â
âWhy would I lieâŚâ you mumbled back, slowly fading out of consciousness again. âI really like youâŚâ
Wonyoung paused, her cheeks turning rosy again, before closing the lid of the bottle.
âThat should be enough, try not to wipe it off,â Wonyoung said casually before standing up. âDoes it hurt when you breathe in?â
âNo,â you groaned, sitting up slightly.
âThatâs good, you donât have a fever either,â she noted while pressing the back of her hand against your forehead. âI think youâre right and that itâs just bruising, but Iâm taking you to the doctor tomorrow to get x-rays.â
âItâs fine,â you smiled before wincing in pain again.
âI should really be taking you right now to be honest,â she said while staring at your bare chest. âIt could be a fractured rib.â
âTomorrow then, Iâll go.â
âYouâre saying it like you have a choice.â
âAlso, wait a minute, are those my clothes?â you just now noticed what she was wearing. âWhen did you put those on?â
âI wasnât going to walk into a store with a ripped dress and no panties, you idiot,â Wonyoung shook her head in disbelief. âGet some sleep, as soon as you wake up weâre going to see a physician.â
âThank youâŚâ you mumbled quietly, slouching back down into the couch and closing your eyes. âGoodnight.â
After a small pause where you heard a couple of footsteps, you felt Wonyoung place a gentle kiss on your cheek.
âGoodnight.â
---
A/N:
I don't think I have too much to say about this one. I wrote it because @writerpeach made me horny for Wonyoung. I know it's not the smuttiest of my works, but frankly I was more focused on other aspects of my writing for this one. I've left it open for future parts, no idea when I'll be writing them but I do already have the plot.
Wrote and edited this whole thing in essentially one weekend, so forgive any mistakes. This one really was more of a test for my own writing capability. A small side project if you will. Feel free to let me know what you guys think, and if you have any sort of interesting requests I'm not opposed to taking them for more practice.
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klaus got sober, finally got sober but was made a germaphobe. he was ridiculed for finally having his shit together but having weird coping mechanisms for it. then he was made to spiral again and then killed off. he got his life on track, was an exceptional uncle/second parent to his niece and then they made him sell his body for drugs and inevitably killed him off as a junkie.
luther, who was the leader, who was smart enough to be an astronaut could amount to nothing without his powers except from being a stripper. he had absolutely nothing and no one, even sloan was ripped away from him and then he, too was killed off. lonely and unaccomplished.
ben was brought back, finally alive, granted not the same ben but he wore the same face and he had a family who could annoy him into shape but he stayed a dick, became a apocalyptic monster and credited for the destruction of all the branching timelines, and died as a monster that he was so afraid of becoming.
alison got her happy life but couldnât sustain it. her husband left her but at least she got to have claire and for that i can give credit but she remained codependent on klaus to be her passion project that made her feel better. she never learnt why that was not healthy and then died without her daughter.
diego had this beautiful life, a family that called him their own, three kids and wife who called him darling, and love and then he was made to fuck it all up because of some obsession with the CIA, in service of a romance between his wife and brother because the creator thought an old man needed some romance. he wasnât even shown saying goodbye to his kids.
lila left behind her assassin ways, she stopped being batshit crazy and ultra suspicious to settle down with a man she genuinely and wholeheartedly loved and trusted, only to throw it all away because his younger (and yet much older) brother found her a timeline with strawberries. she was made to give up her kids, her family, her happy fucking life when all she ever wanted was to not be alone.
viktor got dealt the worst hand, always. he was abused vehemently by his father and ignored and relegated due to no fault of his own. he was made to feel ugly and broken and small but then he realised that his family loved him even if his father didnât. he got a chance at being normal and he took it, only for it to be stripped away from him so that he could sacrifice his life for a world that was never kind to him. he was made to reconcile with his abusive father and then promptly erased out of existence.
five. my dearest boy, young man, old fool, five. he survived an apocalypse after another. fought tooth and nail to keep his family alive and well and dedicated his entire life to make sure of it. only for all his efforts to be made futile and his snark to be mellowed. he made it his life mission to keep the world safe and his family safe only for all that to be stripped away from his character and made into a lovesick fool who abandoned them during the final battle to mope about his brotherâs wife not liking him back.
there were so many character assassinations this season, GoT writers would be proud of dear old steve.
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Of Course a Prince Needs a Princess
Characters: Yandere Prince x Female (Y/N) In which you reincarnate into a fairytale where Yan!Prince wants his happy ending too
đ̲đ̲đ̲đ̲đ̲đ̲đ˘Ě˛đ̲
Having a second chance at life in exchange for the death of your previous one came with a crash. You weren't sure how it happened, but you luckily retained your memories and your wit.
It didn't take long to find out you were in a world akin to Cinderella's story--from the stepmothers to the talking mice to the royalty the citizens praised. Unfortunately, you weren't looking to live in a grand castle. Or maybe you were, but not with being married to a man you don't have feelings for. The original couple got together so quick, yet they barely knew each other. That story was definitely as it was: a work of fiction
Your new plan? Put up with the stepsisters, find a job elsewhere, and make enough bank to live comfortably in the village away from your family. You've never heard of laws in Cinderella's fairytale, but you were certain that the kingdom couldn't possibly force citizens to live with toxic family members.
đ̲â̲đ̲ đľĚ˛đ̲đ̲đ̲
After spending a few months doing chores and odd jobs around the village (the latter for some extra cash), your family finally received news of the fated ball.
You initially didn't plan on going, but you deserved a break. You didn't bother asking for permission to go; your stepmother definitely wouldn't allow it. The main problem was summoning Fairy Godmother.
Luckily, she couldn't tell the difference between fake tears and real ones. You behaved as close to the actual Cinderella as you could recall, and POOF!
With your new attire and coach, you made your way to the most gorgeous castle your eyes have ever fell upon.
It didn't take long for the prince to notice you, but this is where you drew the line at this fairytale life. You rejected his proposal to dance, shocking the other guests. You had to resist a smirk at your step-family's reaction.
Flabbergasted, the prince left you swiftly and moved onto another fair maiden. You indulged yourself in the catering happily, but after your stomach was filled, the stares of passerby began to discomfort you. The prince was occupied with another dance, so you wasted no time leaving the palace early (much to the confusion of the knights who stood guard).
The spell broke while at home with no evidence of your night out, not even the glass slippers. When your stepfamily returned, they bragged about their time and briefly talked about you (luckily not knowing you were the one who was "stuffing their face like a pig starved."). After that day, life returned to normal.
Or at least what you thought was going to be normal.
đÍđśÍđŻÍđ˘Íđ¸Íđ˘ÍđşÍ đÍđŞÍđŻÍđĽÍđŚÍđłÍđŚÍđÍđÍđ˘Í
Beginning that night, Yan!Prince thought about you often. He never imagined a young lady would ever reject his proposal to dance, though he didn't hold it against you. It was just a shocker.
Despite that, you appeared in his mind before bed and after he woke up, while he ate and while sharpening his combat skills. Even if he told himself that that one incident was nothing more than a brief interaction with a citizen of his kingdom, he couldn't forget the color of your hair, your pretty face, and how you paid oh so much attention to the food his family prepared just for that ball.
Upon overhearing the chefs gush about their gratefulness towards their food being appreciated so much, he made up a personality for you: kind but forward, honest, valuing true intentions and love over gold and high status.
Too bad for him, gold was your highest priority. While he began going on strolls into the village in search of you under the impression of catching up with the townsfolk, you continued job-hunting and tending to the house. You even decided to cater to your stepfamily as best as possible--subtle enough so they wouldn't think you were trying to suck up to them.
Surprisingly, your relationship with them improved just a bit. But it was what you needed to get permission to work at a bakery in the village.
Once you discovered he was visiting the village often, you did your best to avoid the bakery window while working and hurry home once your shift ended.
Unfortunately, you both ran into each other just as you closed up shop. In a small panic, you inquired about him for the sake of courtesy. While you two spoke, he couldn't help but notice a striking resemblance between you and the lady who turned him down at the ball. You could tell from his facial expression he was piecing things together, so you abruptly bid farewell and ran away.
He would visit you a lot. After replying to his inquiry that you weren't the girl at the ball, he'd joke about it a lot (there was no other gal in the village like you). It didn't take long for rumors to spread amongst the kingdom that the prince had taken a fancy to you. You hated it. He didn't mind it. In fact, it no longer mattered whether you were the girl at the ball. Something about you pulled him in like a hook. Perhaps it was the determination he observed through the window. Perhaps it was the way you handled children while taking a breather outside as he ate inside. Perhaps it was destiny.
As time passed, you grew more tolerant of him. While you didn't want him to be your romantic partner, you guessed you were okay with being his friend. As time passed, he grew more frustrated you weren't his. His father took note of his unusual agitated self, but he waved it off as stress when thinking of a future bride.
"What about that lady the people are saying you like?"
"Oh, her? She has....a way with herself. It seems that she's not interested in me."
"Perhaps you both need a bit of a push."
Since then, the King made a few visits to the bakery to chat--no marriage mentioned. He wanted to see what you were like. Although you were a kind girl, he confronted Yan!Prince with the truth that he probably wouldn't have a spouse who didn't want him. It broke his heart to hear, but he wasn't ready to let go yet.
You were already preparing your escape long before the ball, but the pace of your plan sped up now that the prince was on your trail. You found out about the closest kingdom from acquaintances and saved up funds to use on your journey.
When the prince discovered you had quit your job via a disappearance, he visited your home. Your stepfamily was in shambles (literally. The place was filthy.) and shared that you had disappeared overnight with your belongings. There was no mistake in it: you had abandoned him.
Framing your escape as a possible kidnapping, he ordered guards and encouraged the rest of the kingdom to search for you. All of his efforts was on the search.
Photography didn't exist, so you were fortunate that the description he gave out about your appearance was vague. Somehow, you made it to the nearest kingdom with a plea to the guards that you made your way there in search of a better life. The Queen was kind and sponsored a place for you to stay for the first five months while you adjusted to your new life in exchange for you finding a job. It didn't take long to do so with your desperation.
In no time, you were living a much happier life in your home, with your new friends, and even someone who kept catching your eye. Talk of the nearby kingdom's drama was entertaining, even more so with the subject amongst them.
Meanwhile, the prince's mental and physical wellbeing deteriorated. Some say the search took a lot out of him. Some say he was so heartbroken, he had no will to live. Maids in the castle whispered about the prince being locked in his room from the outside because he grew violent--so out of character! Disturbed, the King confided in only those closest to him about his woes. Whatever did that woman do to infatuate his son so much! No one could approach him anymore. He ate and drank only when he needed to. His room became a mess. How did such a sorrow fall on the family of royal blood when there was so much potential for happiness to look forward to?
Anyone could guess that were was no point in a happy ending for romantic fairytale if there was no romance to begin with.
#fanfic#fanfiction#writing#writerscommunity#x y/n#x reader#reader insert#y/n#female reader#fairy tale retelling#cinderella#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere x female reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x darling#yandere x you#tw yandere#unrequited love#not a happy ending
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Slim Pickinâs
âď¸ ln4 x bestfriend!reader
âď¸ where your childhood wish becomes a reality
âď¸ warnings - none !! just some fluff and kisses
âď¸ word count 1.5k
âď¸ a/n : so i heard sabrina carpenters song thatâs gonna be on short nâ sweet and then this was born two days later !! enjoy <33
âMaybe I'm gay.â
your best friend, lando, looks at you, confused. âwhat?â he asks through a chuckle.
you were fed up. The number of douchebag men that you have in your phone and not one of them has ever made it to a second date. That fact makes you want to rip your eyeballs out.
âmaybe god just forgot my gay awakening and thatâs why i canât find a boyfriend! maybe i just donât like men.â you throw your head back on the couch in landoâs living room in monaco.
âi doubt that he just forgot,â lando giggles
you knew this wasn't true. you knew you liked men and only men. because you definitely liked the man sitting at your feet, and you have since you were both 15. youâve just never ever told him.
And you planned to keep it that way.
you groaned. âNo, Lando, you donât get it! itâs slim pickings around here. half the men in my phone donât even know the difference between there, their and theyâre!â quiet giggles from the man sitting across the couch from you filled the room.
Lando knew you were only joking, yet he canât help but feel bad at your lack of dating life when he has models flocking toward him at all hours of the day. granted, the girl he wants isnât even a model. In fact, sheâs sitting right in front of him, sprawled out on his couch, complaining about boys. but she didnât know that.
And he planned on keeping it that way.
â
Throughout your week-long stay in Monaco, you decided to set yourself on a mission to meet a guy and go on a date. On the fourth day, you were successful!
During a coffee run while lando streamed, you met a guy who asked you out to dinner the following night. You were so excited since given your history, the chance of a guy asking you out was close to zero. When he asked you even scanned your surroundings to make sure he was talking to you specifically.
you were getting ready in the guest room of landoâs apartment, since you were staying there during your visit.
while applying your lip liner and gloss, you heard a knock on the door. âHey, what are you thinking we do for din- woah.â
the curly haired brunette stared at you in awe. you were always beautiful in his eyes, yet right now he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world. it then clicks in landoâs head that youâre not dressed for him. âWhy are you all dressed up?!â he teases, a mischievous smirk on his face.
âoh i have a date!â you hum with a smile.
he looks at you confused, like he doesnât believe you fully. leaning against the doorway âwhat happened to slim pickings?â he pokes, crossing his arms atop his chest.
âcanât a girl meet a guy and go on a date? gosh.â you scoff, slightly annoyed that heâs teasing you over this. youâd hoped he would be happy youâre crawling your way out of this slump of being single. it was one of the things you loved about him â how he always treated you with nothing but kindness and support.
âFine, fine, whatever. have fun, i guessâ he turns around and ducks into his office, closing the door harsher than you expected. Just as you make a mental reminder to have a talk with him about it, your phone chimes â your date is waiting in the lobby.
lando watches you from the cracked doorway of his office, as you do a final check of your makeup in the mirror of the mud room. he thought you looked beautiful and was silently raging at the fact he isnât the man youâve dressed up for tonight. heâs liked you since you both were young kids running through the suburban bristol streets while your parents sat on the patio of his childhood home socializing over cocktails.
You were always there to support him through his racing career and you were the first person he called after McLaren chose to extend his contract. While he doubted himself and everyone told him to leave, you told him to follow his heart and do what felt right to him. Now, heâs a race winner with the team he calls home. To him, itâs always been you. You have always been the girl he pictured his life with.
But his gut always told him youâd never return these feelings back to him.
â
your date went horrible. All the guy did was talk about himself. and once he found out you were friends with some celebrities, the date had ended there for you. although you got some free drinks and a meal out of it. it only made you fall further into this loneliness.
the elevator dings, signaling youâve arrived at the floor of landoâs apartment. you stumble to landoâs door. the alcohol takes effect and makes you trip into the door, startling Lando whoâs standing just on the other side, waiting for you. He throws the door open, finding you standing there with slightly messed up hair and a frown on your face.
âcâmere,â he says quietly, taking you to the couch. sat on the coffee table in front of you, he gently took your foot into his lap. you feel his soft touch as he gently removes your heels from your feet. sending shivers down your spine.
âIt was horrible. all he did was talk about himself,â you say frustrated. âI also accidentally let it slip that I knew you, oh, and donât even get me started on his horrible taste in just about everything.â
He helps you up, taking you to the bathroom and sitting you down on the counter. He rummages through your toiletries bag, before taking out your makeup remover. As he starts removing your makeup, you study every inch of his face, counting every freckle and watching the way his jaw muscles clench as he focuses.
god he was beautiful.
you feel a lump in your throat as tears begin to fill your eyes.
âHey, hey, whatâs wrong?â Lando asks, halting his movements.
âitâs just- i'm pretty sure every good man in this world is either taken or dead and its not fair.â you say letting a stray tear fall. in your head you knew you were being dramatic, but the three glasses of wine you had to get through that date have taken full control of your emotions.
Lando chuckles lightly, folding with the used makeup wipe in his hands, he looks to you âwell, iâm neither of those things.â he says softly, almost as if heâs upset.
fuck. shit.
âno, no, wait, lando- i didnât mean it like that, you're a great guy. an amazing guy actually.â you say quickly. he smiles at you as you continue to ramble âi mean, shit, iâd date you in a heartbeat-â
âwhat?â
you slap your hand over your mouth. holy fuck, did you really just say that? and Lando not saying anything just solidifies that he doesnât return your feelings. Lando is staring at you like youâve got three heads coming out of both of your ears.
you start to panic âiâm sorry, i donât know why i said that, forget i said any-â youâre cut off with the feeling of landoâs lips crashing into yours. his hands gently cup your face as he kisses you. you instantly return the kiss. The world slowly falls away leaving just the two of you. your hands moving to find home in his curl, slightly pulling on them. Lando releases a quiet groan. His hands work their way down your body to rest on your hips, gently pulling you closer to him.
Lando pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. âI have literally loved you since we were 16.â
you smile at him, âi love you, too.â
The two of you find yourself in Lando's bed watching your favorite movie, wrapped up in eachother. Lando turns his head to look down at you resting on his chest. Admiring your sleepy state as you attempt to stay focused on the movie he gave up on watching. How can he focus on anything else when you were sitting next to him?
the girl he's wanted since the two of you sat on his porch on a late summer night, eating the ice cream his mother tried to hide. giggles filling the air while you pointed out constellations to lando, chatting about where you wanted to be in 5 years.
âWell I hope to be in formula 1â Lando admitted. âYou'll be there, I'm sure of it.â you added giving lando a smile he swore was brighter than the stars sat above.
He gasps slightly âdon't moveâ
you freeze as he reaches a hand to your cheek, softly swiping a fallen eyelash holding it in front you.
âMake a wishâ he breathed.
You shut your eyes tight, emphasizing the wish you were making before taking a big breath and sending the eyelash into the air. Followed by the sound of giggles coming from the brunette, he asks what you wished for. âIf i tell you it won't come true!â you gasp faking offense.
who knew that after 8 years, your wish would finally came true.
đ¤âď¸.
AYAYAYAYAY ALL DONE !!
big thank u too my lovely friend who edited this and helped me <33
#formula 1#lando norris#ln4#f1#f1 x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando norris x yn#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#f1 fanfic#lando fluff
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Epilogue || 18+
Synopsis: Sex had never felt so good, as it did now, with your new husband.
Pairings: husband!Jay Ă wife!reader
Warnings: smut minors Dni, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, p in v sex, penetration, degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), rough sex, dom!Jay, sub!reader, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, cumming inside, JayYn forever I love these idiots
A/N: and we come to an end with the Lucifer series! Thank you for all the support on this series, I truly loved writing it and I hope you all like this tiny bonus đđ
Series Masterlist
The first time Jay ever saw you was in fourth grade. He remembered that story like the back of his hand. The first thing he recalled was the fact that you were so short you couldn't reach the coat hangers, so he had to help you hang your too big coat up. That was the first kindle that ignited the flames of your friendship.
The second kindle was when you were introduced to him as 'your new neighbour Y/N'. Your parents had recently moved to the town and bring the social butterfly she was, Jay's mother promptly marched him over to your new house with a jar of homemade cookies. Jay remembered how you and him had devoured all of the cookies without a thought, only to get stomach aches and scoldings from both your mothers.
Jay had introduced Heeseung to you at the start of fifth grade, having trusted you enough to welcome you into his own group of friends, of which Heeseung was his best. Jay's entire world for most of his cringey teenage and depressing young adult years were you and Heeseung. And he had been thankful for that.
Until he found himself falling in love with you.
Falling desperately, hopelessly, painfully in love with you. If anyone had asked him about what he loved about you, he would have had a seven verse poem written already. As if that was enough for him to express everything he held within his the deepest crevices of his heart for you. He loved you on purpose, truly and fully, as heartbreak loved a woman and as misfortune loved a daughter.
But as love always went, Jay was hesitant. He was scared. What if you didn't feel the same way? It would have ruined your friendship and the deep bond between you two if Jay ever told you what he truly felt, about the way his stomach would erupt in butterflies whenever you'd fix his hair and the way you made him weak in the knees everytime you laughed at one of his dad jokes.
Then came Seattle.
Jay's father has received a promotion and they were to move to The States. A new chance at at life, as his mother had enthusiastically put it. But there was no enthusiasm or happiness in it for Jay. Sure, he would be moving somewhere new, somewhere where dreams were supposed to be fulfilled, but what about his life until then? What about Heeseung and you? What about the life he wanted to have with you for the rest of eternity?
So came the waterworks. The final look of anguish on your face at the airport remained etched into Jay's memory forever, even from the distance he could clearly see the tear stains on your face, and Heeseung's arms pulling you into a hug with a final nod to Jay. It tore his heart apart, but he promised himself that he'll dig his way back to you if it was the last thing he'd do.
That is, until he moved back to Seoul, and found himself face to face with you and Heeseung. With matching rings on your fingers and a lovesick smile on your face. Or atleast that was how he imagined it. He didn't even take the time to glance at your longing expression, heavily disguised under the cheerful grin on your face.
You did love Heeseung, yes, but what good was that love when the man you've wanted since eight grade was right in front of you? Sitting in the same elegant position, holding his glass of gin in the same peculiar way that had always made you laugh, what good was any love when it was not the love you wanted?
Or perhaps the love you lusted after, the dangerous kind of love. The adventurous kind of love. The love that made your eyes linger over him whenever you'd pay Heeseung a visit at the police station, only to find Jay looking at you with pity as he glanced towards the empty desk labelled with your ex husband's name next to him.
The love that made you want to absolutely devour him as he sat leaning back in his armchair, legs spread dangerously wife apart, that caused warmth to spread between your thighs and saliva to accumulate in your mouth.
Jay looked at you with eyes full of lust, like he was a tiger on a hunt and you were his lamb, dolled up in a white dress with a glittering diamond ring on your finger. You had practically fought him not to buy you something so expensive, but Jake and Sunghoon had shrugged their shoulders with an 'i told you so' look when you walked in with a look of defeat.
"Come 'ere." Jay mumbled, tapping his index finger on his thigh, his own ring shone spectacularly against the golden shade of his skin. You promptly walked over, dragging your dress along with you. It was a pretty dress, you had to admit, you didn't think Jake and Sunghoon would have been such experts in suggesting wedding dresses, but you were proven wrong.
"Pretty little doll..." Jay's arms promptly went to your waist, as you say yourself down on his thigh, forearms resting on his shoulder. His right hand, crawled up your back, to where the zipper of your dress lay stagnant. You pressed your body closer to his, your clothed pussy practically grinding against the course material of his trousers. Jay's soft, cherry pink lips, touched your neck agressively, leaving hues of red behind for everyone in town to know whose you were.
Jay's fingers fiddled with the zipper for a minute before he pulled it down completely, to reveal the white lace of your bra. It barely hid anything, your perked up nipples were clearly visible and your cleavage was a valley Jay wanted to dive into and make a home out of.
Jay's hands palmed your bare back as he ripped your dress off of you, eliciting a moan out of your mouth as you saw his muscles flex ever so slightly, thought the fabric of his silk shirt. Your fingers also went to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning the first three before Jay perked his thigh up, the fabric now hitting your clothed cunt. You gasped at the sudden sensation.
"So impatient aren't you, love?" Jay connected his lips to yours in a short kiss, "Tell me what you want baby."
"You're allowing me that privilege?" You chuckled, trying hard not to stare down at his chiseled chest, "That's too kind of you Mr Park."
"Would you prefer if I was rougher, Mrs Park?" Jay wore a handsome smirk on his face, the hand which settled on your back, squeezed it ever so slightly, making you squirm. Jay's fingers danced up your legs, slowly making their way up your legs until he reached the waistband of your panties. His devilish smirk only grew in size as you lifted your hips just enough for him to slide the thin fabric down your milky thighs to expose your slick center.
"Needy little slut aren't you doll?" Jay whispered in your, sending shivers down your spine, "All wet for me, and I haven't even touched you."
"Maybe you're just that handsome." You responded with a cheeky smile. You started to slowly roll your hips into Jay's stomach, your soaked pussy rubbed harshly against his trousers. Jay could feel the spot on which you sat comfortably getting wetter by the second.
"Or maybe I'm just that pretty." You said again, adding fuel to the fire, "Well, a pretty girl like me shouldn't be with a man like you should she?"
As you went to pull away, he grabbed your arm gently, his grasp firm around your skin, before bringing you back down to his level and pressing his lips into your mouth, a searing hot kiss igniting you into a pile of flames, a mountain of ash at the feeling of his touch.
You kissed him back, eyes shutting tight like a stone door, your body leaning in to his as his tongue dragged across your own. That elicited a moan from the back of your throat, and without exactly meaning to, you felt yourself grinding against him.
"Pretty girl like you deserves to be fucked like the whore she is, doll." His fingernails drew marks over your skin, adding to your pleasure. The drag of your clit against his muscular thigh causes you to whimper, pressing yourself harder to his skin, as if trying to obliviate the mere atoms of space between the both of you. His large calloused hands guide your hips, moving you up and down his thigh.
Soon the throbbing in your cunt got stronger, your clit begging for more friction, something to relieve the pressure building up in your lower stomach. You give an experimental rock of your hips, freezing to wait for Jay's reaction. When he doesn't respond you do it again, setting a steady rhythm as you grind down on his lap.
The zipper on the front of his slacks rubs perfectly against your sensitive clit, the pleasure increasing with every roll of your hips, head burying further into the crook of Jay's neck, his masculine scent filling your nose. Your pussy is dripping now, your empty hole flutters and pulses as you continue grinding in Jay's lap, too lost in pleasure to register the tiny whimpers leaving your mouth.
Speeding up your movement, hips pressing down harder into his, a breathy moan of his name falls from your lips as you're about to reach your peak. Just as you feel yourself tumbling over the edge, two strong, cold hands firmly grab your hips, halting your movement completely.
You whine desperately at the loss of your orgasm, hips frantically chasing more of that delicious friction that would have your cunt gushing, but it's useless. Jay's vice-like grip prevents any of your movements, cold fingers bruising as they dig into the soft flesh of your hips.
"Not so soon, sweetheart." Jay smirked at your shocked expression, you looked adorable to him with widened eyes and an agape mouth, "My spoilt little princess."
"Jay please..." You whine out of annoyance, but his grip stayed strong on your body, practically leaving scars there from how strong it was.
"Poor baby, begging for me." Jay snickered, sending shivers down your spine, "Tell me what you want darlingâtongue, fingers or cock?" One of his hands went down to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze, eliciting a moan out of you.
"T-Tongue." You spluttered out, as Jay kept groping your thigh. He snickered once more, his ego grew in size as he watched you sink into an abyss at his mere touch.
"Good girl." Jay simply replied, before tightly securing his hands round your hips. He lifted you up with ease, and places your feet on the ground, before getting up himself and picking you up again. One of his hands wound round your waist and one of them went to your ass, squeezing it mischievously. He meticulously carried you to the bed, which by the look of it, had new silken sheets, just waiting to be ruined.
The feeling of the soft fabric seduced you as you allowed your body to relax into the mattress. Your eyes flickered over to Jay, whose figure could be seen outlined by the faint golden light of the lamp placed on the bedside table. The carved muscles of his back enamoured you into a trance as you stared at your new husband take off his shirt. His hands went to his newly bought leather belt and he took it off in one swipe, loosening up his trousers which soon came off to reveal his hardened cock. Your mouth filled to the brim with saliva as you stared at it.
"It's not good to stare, sweetheart." Jay chuckled, turning to you, his gaze set fire to your skin, "Nowâ" his mouth morphs into a lopturned smirk, "âyou said tongue didn't you?"
The only response he got was a weak whimper when his hands roamed over your thighs, spreading your legs apart. You gasped softly at the feeling of his breath hitting your skin.
Jay peeled open your pussy, revealing your glistening slit to his hungry eyes. He watched the way your arousal pooled at the tight hole of your cunt, the way your clit hardened at the feeling of the cold air. Your hands snaked down to his head, and you dragged your fingers through his hair, his name falling from your tongue like a melody.
"Jayâstop teasing." You whined, not having the patience anymore to wait for his heaven-trained tongue to get stuck inside your pussy.
His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket.Â
"god, just like that," you groan as he brushes against your g-spot and circles his tongue around your clit.
Jay's tongue swirls in lazy circles against your clit, hands gripping your trembling thighs to anchor you to him. His mind is hazy with desire, lost in the taste and scent of you, the feel of your body under his touch. He can't get enough of you, craving more and more until he's completely satisfied, which he knows will take hours at the very least.
All you can hear are the brazen sounds of his slurps and sucking along with his ragged breathing and you scream and whine as your hands reach out weakly to push his shoulders away, the pleasure running through your nerves, strangling your throat in the process.
âAhh-! Jay- wait..!â He doesn't listen to your pleads to get him to stop, the pleasure almost unbearably good. How could he stop? His sweet tooth craves for his sweetheartâs sloppy cunt almost all the time.
Heâs enjoying every second of it, listening to how noisy youâre getting, the screeches and moans escaping your lips, barely managing to form words to escape those pretty lips he loves to shove his cock into.
Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nose, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.
As his tongue continues exploring your clit with need, you push against his shoulders but fail, his strong grip keeping you locked in position.
Nonetheless you keep trying, far too overstimulated for your own good. You try to get his hands to release their firm grip of holding your thighs up, but you fail again, then try pushing his head away, yet you fail again, your attempts futile.
"Fuckâoh Jay!â You wailed a wanton amount, enough for the whole neighbourhood to shake due to the sheer pleasure youâre feeling. The white pain mixing with adrenaline sends you right to the edge of teetering release.
âCanât you please justâ Ah! fuck me already!â There it was, the only permission he ever needed.
Jay was quick to pull his skilled tongue out and move his hands from your thighs to your hips, getting himself steady on top of you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, even more so, when his lips landed on yours. You tasted the faint bits of yourself on them and you relished it all, arching yourself further into him. He was your husband now, and you made sure that you took full advantage of that.
"So fucking pretty." Jay whispered after pulling away. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other remained on your hip. Jay was quick to withdraw his hand and trace it back to your hip.
âYou ready?â he asked, licking his lips before pulling his cock out, already covered in pre-cum. He looked so beautiful above you, his hips so close to yours, his hair falling into his face and his chest raising as fast as yours. You looked a mess, but you were his mess and he wanted to devour you.
He was tender with you, his fingertips light across the length of your body as he felt you, his touch delicate- as though you were a statue that could break at any moment. He was going to take his time with you. He was going to devote himself to the religion that was your weeping cunt.
Yet, in a play of duality, the moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.
"Fucked out already, love?" Jay snickered at you, he knew his words always made you weak.
You managed a weak glare, but it melted into a moan as he pushed into you. The stretch was intense, making you claw at his shoulders for support. He kissed your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire as he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in deeply. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching to meet his every movement.
You opened your eyes slowly, your vision filled with the sight of him. His beautiful, sweat-covered face was close to yours, the grey in his eyes adding to his rugged appeal. His aura burned with an intensity that made your heart race.
His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the wet, obscene noises of your coupling. His free hand roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.
âJayâ more,â His eye flits up to your face, asking for silent reassurance that that is indeed what you want. âFor god's sake Jay, move faster please Iââ Not needing to be told twice, Jay picks up speed. Where his thrusts were slow and sensual, now they are fast and hard. He fucks you like a man starved, as if he was told this is the last woman he will ever lay with. Which in his case, was true, since you were married after all.Â
It all feels so, so good. Your mind is a hazy mess with only thoughts of him and his fat fucking dick. Every time his tip meets that spongy spot inside of you, you feel like you're seeing stars as drool runs down your chin. When was the last time you ever got your guts rearranged like this? In fact, when was the last time you even felt the touch of a man? Heeseung surely had done it, but it was surely never as pleasurable as this.
Those questions were swept away in the flurry of pleasure brought by Jay's cock sliding in and out of your pussy with a wet squelch, your body rocking back and forth with the force. He relished the sight under him, your sweaty body splayed out so prettily for him as he brought you to new heights.
"Damn... You're so fucking tightâ"He grinned as you responded with nothing but incoherent babbles, too dumbed down to even form a proper sentence. "âsucking in my cock like it never wants to let it go, honey..."
Jay brought one of his hands down to grab your breast, fondling the mound and squeezing before tweaking your nipple between the pads of his thumb and index. That action elicits a hiss out of him as he feels you clench down harder around him, making him let out a breathy chuckle
"Haah... You liked that, didn't you, doll?" His answer comes in the form of another pornographic moan, "...What if I gave you a child, huh? âFuckâ! You like the thought, love? Letting me fuck a baby into you?"
"Jayâah shit!" You screamed, feeling your gummy cunt being attacked by his tip, "N-Need your cumâplease!"
Jay would have been lying if he said the thought wasn't enticing, getting to raise a child with you that's his own. It was something he'd been dreaming of for the longest while. You weren't sure if you could have children, but Jay would at least attempt to make it happen. Even if it meant pumping you full of his cum till your belly bloats from the amount he's emptied into you. It drives him to go a bit faster, his cock reaching deep as your walls spasm around him.
You gasp out his name as your arms tighten around him. Hearing a chuckle, he did it again. "What happened baby?" He cooed, you could hear the smirk dripping from his voice. But you were too distracted making noises to complain.
âMy dumb little girl, just love getting her needy cunt fucked hm? there sweetheart? yeah feels good doesnât it?â He up his pace, even if you thought that was impossible. His cock continues to drill inside you with the tip expertly hitting your heavenly spot.
It doesnât take long to feel the first flutterings of that eye-wateringly beautiful sensation between your legs. The force of his thrusts, and the friction against your clit cause you to see stars behind your eyes. With one last scream of his name, you cum around his cock. Your walls pulling him in, attempting to root him to you. Aemond however, does not let up, chasing afer his own release. You quickly stammer, âIâm cumming! Fuck!â
âCum for me. Right now give it to me, baby, come onâ Jay pistons his hips with slower pace but deeper, sliding himself unbelievably full to your cunt, with a prominent bulge on your lower tummy.
Jayâs legs nearly gave out underneath him, hearing your sweet words. As your pussy contracted in wet bursts around him again, Jay released every drop of cum inside of his body, deep into your walls so that you could feel yourself becoming full and it beginning to drip out as it became too much.
Jay didnât move and kept his cock inside you, letting himself and you calm down and try to catch your breath. As you regain your composure, your head against Jay's chest, your mind almost exploded with the overwhelming thoughts.
You definitely were not on the pill.
You and Jay winced in union as he slowly pulled out, careful not to waste any of his seed, which stayed buried deep within you. You could see the shine of the thin line of sweat on Jay's body as he slumped down on the mattress next to you. He looked ethereal, like a God in his own kingdom.
"You ok, love?" Jay murmured in his deep voice, which sounded tired.
"You're asking me that now, asshole?" You chuckled breathlessly, your chest riding and falling according to your hasty breaths, "I'm not on the pill by the way." You added, with uncertainty coating your tone.
You felt Jay's arms quickly wrap around you, pulling your head into his chest. He smiled down at you, pressing a saccharine-sweet kiss to your sweaty forehead. You winced at the feeling of your sore legs moving slightly on the bed.
"Good." Jay said, "I wasn't planning on having any protection anyway."
"Jay!" You gasped playfully, softly hitting his chest, "Don't say that!"
"Or what?" He smirked.
"Or I'll make you a dad." You managed a cheeky smile, feeling drops of sleep drip onto your eyes.
"Gladly, my love."
Taglist: @diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pshazez @heeslomll @seunghancore @shiningnono @deobitifull @luvitria @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @hirablackcat @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd
#jay#jay park#jay smut#jay park smut#park jay#park jay smut#jay hard hours#jay hard thoughts#park jay hard hours#park jay hard thoughts#enhypen jay#enhypen smut imagines#enhypen smut#enhypen smut reactions#enha smut#enha smut inagines#enha hard thoughts#enha hard hours#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen Ă reader#jay Ă reader#park jay Ă reader#heeseung hard thoughts#heeseung hard hours#jake hard hours#jake hard thoughts#sunghoon hard thoughts#sunghoon hard hours#enha Ă reader
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we used to have more pt. 3 | oscar piastri, pato oâward
part 1 part 2 part 4
pairing: oscar piastri x reader, hints at pato oâward x reader
summary: while working at indycar, you found yourself growing closer to a certain mclaren driver, but those plans get interrupted when you have to get back home and oscar drops a bomb on you
fc: different girls from pinterest
warnings: some more inaccurate work dynamics, this is mainly text messages <3 sorry <3 i got carried away
a/n: work and school have been keeping me very busy this past few days, but i hope youâll enjoy this part! tysm for all the support, i really really appreciate it â¤ď¸âđŠš
â
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yourusername ainât no love in (texas) đ¤ đđ§Ą
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username iâm being delusional and taking this as a sign that sheâll go to the grand prix in austin and all the f1 races after that
username weâre different because iâm taking this as a sign that sheâs dating pato and sheâs staying at indy
username girl is that freaking norbi? đ
username she really thought she was slick
username not to be THAT person but everything about this post screams patricio oâward
username ahhh i love casa rio!
milesbaldwin they say you donât go to san antonio if you donât go to casa rio đ
miguelsossa great mexican food! absolutely recommend
username omg they all went TOGETHER?
username not me thinking it was just y/n and pato âŚ
username not but honestly when is y/n not with any of them
elbaoward beautiful! đ
yourusername elbaaađ
username nahhh this is all the confirmation i need
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oscarpiastri i â¤ď¸ split
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username ignoring that second slide
username i love that heâs in croatia!! đĽ°
username so boyfriend coded
username UGH oscar give me a chance i swear weâre not gonna fall into a toxic cycle of breaking up and getting back together
username you might not be his type in that case! sorry!
username you know what you might be right đ
username my brain canât stop comparing this to y/nâs post âŚ.
username no theyâre both in completely different parts of the world with the wrong people!!
username they HAVE GOT to get together at some point
username no really theyâre just delaying the inevitable
gfusername â¤ď¸ (liked by oscarpiastri)
yourusernameâs instagram stories
[caption 1: đ] [caption 2: đ]
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yourusername itâs incredibly sad to say goodbye to this place that has become my absolute favorite in the entire world. i had some of the best days of my life in these race tracks and i met the most amazing people during my time here â¤ď¸â𩹠i loved everything about this experience and i canât wait to come back (hopefully very soon)đ
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lissiemackintosh iâm gonna cry đ
yourusername my honest reaction
davidmalukas so sad yâall are leaving đ
yourusername weâre gonna miss you!
declanmurray specially lissiemackintosh
davidmalukas good âşď¸
lissiemackintosh youâre dead declanmurray
milesbaldwin what if we just stayed? :(
miguelsossa we stayed like four more months
yourusername rebecca would fire me actually
fernandoalo_official happy to have you back soon y/n đđ˝
yourusername iâm happy to go back! đ¤
username SHEâS COMING BACK LETâS GOOOO
username im dyingggg sheâs mourning her lasts days in america and everyone in the comments is celebrating đ
username is not everyday the people princess returns where she belongs đŠ
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Oh Baby | Lewis Hamilton mini series
part one.
word count: 7.7k
Warnings: smut, absolute filth. breeding kink
Lewis can't help but want to give his best friend everything she desires. she can have whatever she wants.
You were Lewis' best friend; the world knew it. The world also saw that he admired you in a way he hadn't anyone else.
You'd been in Lewis' life since the two of you were literal babies. Your dad was best friends with Anthony, Lewis' father, so in a way, you two were destined to be the best of mates.Â
Sometimes, Lewis wishes he had the chance to meet you organically, but as quickly as that thought flickers through his mind, it is pushed away just as fast.
He would've been alone as a kid if you had come later in his life. But still, meeting you later would've changed the trajectory of your guy's relationship. He wouldn't be stuck in the constant lock of just being your "best friend."
He would continue to stick out his role and push through his torture if it meant you keeping him around.
Since you were kids, you two have been joined at the hip. You were always there to defend him at school when the bullies got to him. You were always down to follow his dreams with him, even if it meant convincing your dad to let you ride with his family to watch him go-karting in the sweltering heat. You were always there.Â
You still are, and maybe that's what's got his heart thrumming in his chest as he watches you dance with his brother Nicholas. The two of your hands are entwined as you sway to the music blasting from the speakers. Â
As Nicholas twirls you around, your eyes meet Lewis for a brief second, and you smile at him before you are faced with his brother again. You joke with Nicholas as the two of you dance, your head constantly turning to check on Lewis.
He loves how his family is your own and vice versa. He loves how you treat his brother with the same tender love and care that he does. He can't help but to admire everything you do, even if it's just including his brother in something as simple as dancing.
You give him a curious look as you sway with Nicholas. He only grins in return, raising his glass at you. He sees your eyes fleet over his shoulder, and then your mouth pierces together in a knowing smile. You tilt your head to motion behind him, and when he turns to follow your orders, he sees Laura approaching.Â
When he turns back to you, you are no longer dancing wildly with his brother but sitting comfortably with your friends, accepting the shot Miles pours for you.Â
Lewis shakes his head, turning to greet Laura. He shouldn't feel disappointed and he shouldn't feel an emptiness wallow in his gut at the mere fact that he can't watch you sway in the night. His girlfriend, (if you could even call her that), was approaching and he should be glad to see her, but he can't help but to relish in the fact that'd he'd rather observe you from a distance than be in her presence.
"Hey baby!" she cheers. " I'm sorry I'm late. I got hung up at the agency."
"S'fine." He smiles, embracing the hug. "Let's grab you a drink and then settle in with everyone."
Meanwhile you are trying your best to tame your friends and their instantly sour moods. "C'mon y'all. Be nice to the girl."
"Nice?" Whitney scoffs. "I don't like that lil' girl."
"Whit." You scold, "She's not for us to like; as long as Lew likes her, we support them, yeah?"Â
"Whatever," Miles piques up, "She not good enough for my guy?"
Always the wiser one, you shoot miles with a frown that shows your agreeance: "We can think that, but who are we to decide for him? Lew's not an idiot. When the time comes to make the right call, he'll make it, yeah?"
"Yeah." Daniel says, "But the only right call would be you."
You smack your teeth, reaching for another shot. "Here this nigga go on his shit again."
The table erupts in laughter just as Lewis approaches with Laura.
"Guys, you all remember Laura?"
"Do we?" Whit scoffs under her breath, downing a shot. The group breaks into fits of sniggering. You eye them with a look that screams, Act right! before turning to face Lewis and Laura in your seat.
"Laura, hi! girl!" You dragged.
Once again, you shoot your eyes across the group; one by one, they all push out fake ass hellos or a mumbled What's up.
Lew watches on as you turn to him, smiling. He can't help it as his own grows wider.
After the phony greeting, Lewis drags Laura to sit with him. The only open spot is the two-seater across from you.Â
Conversation is ablaze in the midst of the circle. You lean forward chatting with Laura for a while since no one else bothered. Lewis has his arm thrown over her shoulder but he is watching you. Like always.
"Oh, so you planned this gathering?" Laura questions.
"Isn't it obvious?" You joke. "Lew could never." You motion to the lights and grand decor located around the yard.
"Oh, please." Lewis smacks his teeth.
"Admit it, Lew. It's my thing. Tell me I did good."
"You did great." He smirks, leaning back, his legs spread in a way that has you ready to drool.
You divert your eyes, sitting back in your own seat.
"Y/N's so domestic, it's giving wife."
You squint your eyes at Whit, giving her the ultimate stink face.
"You're always going to be the stepmum to us Laura. We can't separate mum and dad." Mori speaks up.
There was an ongoing joke in your friend group that had been circling for years. You and Lewis were Mum and Dad, you two paired together so well that it was like watching the perfect marriage. Your friends referred to you as each others "hubby" and "wifey".
Still, your friends were beginning to get out of pocket, and you turned to Lewis expecting him to put an end to their shenanigans like any good dad would. He only smiles at you his eyebrows wiggling in a playful manner.
You feel your cheeks burn as he doesn't deny it.
"She is quite domestic, would make the perfect wife." Miles piques up from beside Lewis.
It's a scheme that you two were left out of, a plan made to force you two to realize your feelings for each other.
His words trinkle into Lewis' mind. He's always thought you'd make the perfect wife. He's thought about marrying you seriously plenty of times. It's also been a childhood dream of his to make it official, especially after having your own wedding ceremony at the playground under the monkey bars, commemorated by strawberry ring-pops and sand confetti that had both of your parents grumbling as they scrubbed your scalps clean that night.
He's only ever told Miles this, but he wishes he never got seriously involved that first time at all. He thinks he did it out of pure irrationality. You had your first serious boyfriend, and Lewis thought well shit. To him it seemed as though you'd never be that into him. So he spent seven years on and off with a woman he was unsure about when all he really wanted was you. He's wasted so much time.
He thinks back to the times where distance sprouted between you two. Nicole didn't like how close the two of you were, and you respected it even if he didn't want you to. He feels a bit like a dickhead thinking of all the times he lied to his ex telling her you were nothing more than a friend to him. It was obviously a lie. If it wasn't a lie he wouldn't have spent majority of his relationship trying to make you realize what it was you were missing. Hint: it obviously didn't work, or you'd be the girl under his arm right now.
"I'll be back in a few," you announce, standing from your seat. I'm going to go do my rounds. Give Lew a break."Â Lewis' stare was beginning to get intense, you could feel your little resolve crumbling the longer her stared into your soul.
He watches you stroll over to his dad and your dad, stepping in between them and wrapping your arms around their waist. He can't read your lips but can tell that whatever you said had the two doubled over in laughter. You pat their backs, trekking over to your next target.
You're a little ways away, refilling wine glasses at the "mum table." His mum has you saying something that leads to you smooching the top of her head as you pass by. You set the bottle on the table before suspiciously eyeing your mother and opting to pull it to the other end. Lewis lets out a chuckle, watching your antics.
It'd been awkward silence covering the group like a blanket since you'd left. Everyone watching Lewis, watch you.
You had convinced Lew to buy this house, practically begged him all of those years ago. "Lew, the backyard," you had marveled, hands outstretched at your sides. "Imagine hosting out here." You had gone on a rant, dragging him across each area of the yard and throwing out ideas for gatherings that didn't even exist.
He closed the deal that same day. He was glad he listened to you as he watched you light some sparklers for the group of kids. He watches you crouch down to his nephew's level, pressing him against your front as you direct the sparkler into his hand.Â
He couldn't see your face but could tell you were muttering words of encouragement into his ear.Â
You stand with a proud grin when he twirls the stick around confidently.Â
You turn as a small child tugs on your dress, "I'm thirsty, Auntie y/n/n."
You coo, picking up your friend's child. "Hi, mama! let's fix that for you." You pop her onto your hip, waltzing into the house from the open patio doors. She runs out moments later, a juice box snug in her hands. You follow after, arms full of the very same juice.
You crouch down as the children huddle around you. You poke each straw through the hole before passing them out one by one.
"Look at Mama Bear." Whit laughs as her eyes follow Lewis' line of sight. He is watching you with a smile and that classic sparkle in his eye that he always seems to have when it comes to you.
"She'd make a great mum, huh?" Lewis rasps out.Â
You're back at the fire pit before you know it.
"Yeah, Mori, you should totally let me kidnap your child next weekend."
"Have her girl, she's all yours." She scoffs, "badass little girl."
The group laughs, but Lewis can't help but notice the gloom flash over your face before it quickly washes away.
He knows about your desire to have a family. He remembers how you opened up to him about it after your last relationship ended, and you took it worse than you ever had before.
He remembers that day like it was yesterday.
You were a drunken, blubbering mess, sitting on his couch with puffy eyes and a blotchy face. "Ugh!" you groaned, reaching for the bottle to pour yourself another glass. He beats you to it, pulling it away and setting it down on the table at the end of the couch.
"Hey," he coos, his hand pulling you into his side as your lip wobbles. You can't help the outburst of tears for what feels like the 100th time.
"Let's talk about it, yeah? That might help a bit."
You had been friends for so long, and not once had he seen you this distraught. In fact, you were the one comforting him most of the time.
"I hate him," you whined, reaching up to cover your face. He got me over here looking stupid."
"Hey," he pulls your hand down, still holding you against him, just holding your hand down at your side as well. "Don't be embarrassed for feeling, ain't that what you tell me?"
"Yeah," you shudder.
"Now, talk to me."
"I wanted kids. I don't think i'm that hurt about him you know?" you don't give him time to answer, "I just feel like I'm not meant to be with someone, like love is not for me. Sometimes it seems like everyone has a person out there for them but me. I want a family of my own. I love my family and yours, but it's different." you cry harder then.
"I want a human to love unconditionally, I want babies, and I want to be a mom; I would make a great mumma."
"You would." He hums, his free hand coming up to wipe your face. You pull away turning to face him, your legs are crossed in front of you and he reaches forward grasping both of your hands in his.Â
He has one leg propped under the other, and his body is turned to face you. The way he's looking at you makes you want to break down into another fit of tears. No one pays attention to you as much as Lewis.
"Is there something wrong with me?" You ask, and you sound so broken that Lewis is fighting off tears of his own.
"You're perfect." He assures, and his hold on your hands grows tighter. "There's someone out there who loves you whole. Through and through, you hear me? There's nothing wrong with you, just the wrong people you've come across. You're going to get all that you want one day. He was an idiot anyway. What happened anyway, huh? What made him-."
"I left him." you interrupted, "which is crazy that i'm crying over him this bad but I could feel a disconnect between us, we were too different, didn't have the same end goal."
"You know what's beautiful about this?"
You look up to him with a baffled expression to say what the actual fuck is beautiful about being an emotional mess. He chuckles, swiping one hand against your wet cheek, where he settles his palm to cup your face.Â
"One day, when you get what you desire, you're going to appreciate it a whole lot more because of how much you had to go through to get it."
And if Lewis wasn't a scary idiot, he swore he'd given you a kid right there and then, hell, however many you wanted. He's always had a soft spot for you, giving you anything you could have remotely even thought about wanting. You mention wanting to visit Brazil, bam, you're on his private jet whisked away, you want a yard to throw family gatherings, the deed is signed. You complain about wanting specific cupcakes from your favorite bakery, he was out of town but it was nothing to have his assistant travel across town to place them at your door. The point is, he'd give you anything in a second. He's good for it and he'd give you his baby if you really truly wanted.
You look up to Lewis the same memory flowing through both of your minds, he shoots you a tiny smile, raising his glass in your direction. You return his expression sipping from your freshly filled wine glass.Â
Your smile blows him away; he can never control the way his heart lurches; you'd think after years and years, your charm would lose its effect on him, but somehow, they grow stronger and stronger as each day passes by.
He doesn't know how long his group of friends sit around the fire pit laughing and chattering along (you including Laura every chance you get, seeing as your other friends seem to have forgotten she exists.) Before he knows it his father is approaching. "Son, there's a million sleeping kids all over your house, I think that's our queue to pack it up."
At that announcement you guys' friends begin to pack themselves up. Lewis says his goodbyes. The group sniggers as Anthony shoots a "Nice meeting you Lauren."
"He called me Lauren," she pouts, "and I've met him before."
"Don't pay it any mind," you speak up balancing an armful of empty glasses, "he's got a bad memory."
You scold your friends, shooing them off as Lewis apologizes to Lauren, Laura.
After a while the house is empty and you say the goodbyes in place of Lewis. As you load the dishwasher you see them bicker back and forth through the large window.Â
You close the door, pressing start, deciding to stop evading their private conversation. You connect to Lewis' speaker, soft melodies bleeding through the house as you go room to room, collecting any foreign object that doesn't belong. You sit with Roscoe for a while after refilling his bowl, giving him kisses and rubs until his body vibrates with snores and then you are up and at it again finding anything to tidy.
You sing quietly to yourself you huff wiping the imaginary dust onto your dress. Just as you're going to sneak from the home, Lewis' voice halts you in your tracks.
"You're leaving?" His eyes are furrowed, and his face is scrunched up.
"I- uh yeah, I didn't know how long the two of you were going to be."
"You're not staying the night?"
Your eyes flicker between Lewis and Laura, "Um, no." you chuckle hoping he'd catch the hint.
As much as you loved Lewis and spending time with him, that love didn't cover listening to him fuck the brains out of his current fling.
"She's not staying," Lewis speaks up.
You are still frozen by the door, your hand holding onto the handle. You peek at Laura, her face covered in disdain.
Your mouth drops open and then closed, trying to figure out the words to articulate your desire to leave in order to avoid whatever weird tension is brewing.
"Bye, Lewis." Laura bites, her long legs striding past you quickly. You move to the side, and she slips through the door without saying so much as a word to you.
"Ooh," you whistle, watching as the door frame rattles from the intensity of the close.
"What's her problem?"
"Your friends are bitches Lew." He mocks in a whiny voice.
You laugh, clutching your chest, "They're a bit rude."Â
"Yeah," he sighs.
"For good cause," you continue.
"Yeah."
"I mean, I don't like the girl either, but as long as you don't mind what she did then-."
"You staying." Lewis interrupts. He really didn't feel like talking about Laura, especially since he was alone in your presence for the first time today; it was all he wanted for his birthday.
It'd been three weeks since he last saw you, and while the two of you talked on the phone and texted every single day, it'd never compare to actually being in your space.Â
You groan as he puckers out his bottom lip, giving you his signature puppy dog eyes that always seem to convince you to do whatever he's asking for.
"Only because it's your birthday, and these heels hurt my feet so much, I don't really think I can drive."
"Oh please," Lewis laughs, "don't act like you don't wanna spend time with me. Excuses, excuses, excuses."
You waddle over to him, grasping onto his waiting arm as you bend at your knees to free your aching feet from said heels.
He takes the shoes from your hand, leading you up the stairs.Â
As the two of you approach his bedroom, you feel your excitement boil over.
When he opens the door, you speak up, "I figured what'd be a good gift for someone who literally has enough money to buy whatever he wanted. Then I remembered how much you miss home while you're away and came to the conclusion that money could never bring that kind of comfort."
Lewis sniffles as he looks at the array of gifts spread over his bed.Â
There is a stuffed Roscoe and Coco, a scrapbook that you'd dug into the archives to fill, letters from his family, your family, your friends, and an array of letters from you. Flowers, because to you, he deserved his more than anyone walking. You'd recreated his favorite ever birthday gift to him, a knit cheetah that you had your grandma help crochet with you for weeks before his seventh birthday. It's safe to say the OG had gone through a lot over the years. And finally, his first helmet from his carting career. He remembers his parents not being able to afford his helmet after buying him a game console for his birthday.
He remembers how upset he was but understanding of his parent's situation. He also remembers you leaving his party that night, face set in as much determination as it could be for a kid. The next day, you popped up with your dad shoving a brand new helmet adorned in a purple sticky bow into his arms. It'd been so many years since he'd last seen the helmet; as a teen, he'd gotten rid of so many things he considered to be junk, the helmet being one. But the older he got, the more he realized just how sentimental stuff like that was.
"You don't understand how hard I had to search through my Granny's attic for that. She always figured you'd want that back one day, pulled it right out of your yard sale that day."
Off to the side were stacked shoe boxes, a box from his jeweler, and a few designer bags.
He throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest; he nestles his head atop of yours before he cranes to press multiple kisses to your hairline. "You're my favorite person in the whole world, know that, right?" He rasps.
"You wrap your arms around his waist pulling him in closer. "I love you Lew, happy birthday. You deserve it all."
You don't know how long the two of you stand their wrapped in each other's embrace before you part.Â
"You can shower in here; I'll hop in the guest."
"Unzip me?"
You turn giving him your back to face, you feel his hand reach up to gently swipe your hair over your shoulder, you shiver as his finger tips glide against the skin of your neck.
"I'm gonna unclip your necklace first," he announces, and his voice is raspier than usual. He gulps as he pinches at the golden clasp, reaching one hand around your front to catch the dainty piece of jewelry.
He places it into you waiting palm, and feels his hands get clammy as he holds onto your hip for leverage. Holding you into place as his other hand glides the zipper down your back. His mouth waters and his heart hammers at the sight of your glowy skin being reveled to him.
You hold the dress up at the front, staring at him from the mirror in the corner of his room. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and there is such a charged tension lingering between the two of you. There are no words spoken as the two of you revel in each others presence. Both of his hands are now on your hips as you fell yourself subtly lean back into him. His chains cool your back as you sink into him.Â
You smile at him through the mirror, "I really did miss you, but I have to shower. I'm sweaty, and I've been chasing kids around all day."
He chuckles, nudging you away but not before leaning over your shoulder, craning his neck in order to place a lingering kiss on your cheek that is almost too close to the corner of your mouth.
"Go shower, stinky."
You roll your eyes, treading into the bathroom and closing the door. You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.
Fuck, it was so challenging yet so exhilarating being in Lew's presence when all you want to do is strip him bare and have your way with him.
You put those thoughts aside and turned on the shower.
When you're clean and dry, you exit the bathroom in your robe (Lewis always keeps an extra for you), where you see Lewis sprawled across the bed, clad only in a pair of boxers. He watches you as you stride past, his head lies against the bed turning to follow your movements. He watches you disappear into his closet and exit, covered in his Mercedes t-shirt that falls down your thighs.
He lulls away the inappropriate images flowing through his mind and instead focuses on the fact that you're wearing his shirt to bed rather than any selection of your clothing piled in his dressers or hanging in your section of his closet.
He makes no attempt to move as you crawl up the bed towards him.
The scene is an absolute vision; he feels blood rush to his member, and he has to use all of his willpower not to let out the lewd groan he's containing.
You only smile at him, and you look so fucking beautiful and innocent he swears if you stare at him for any longer, he'd say fuck it all and pull you down underneath him.
He starts a mental countdown, but before he reaches one, you are flipping onto your back, his arm serving as a pillow as you fit comfortably against his side.
You turn your head to the right, seeing the bottle of liquor in his hand.Â
"Give me that." He passes it over, his lips turned up in a smirk.
You lift your head, taking a good bit down your throat before passing it back; he does the same.
"I've got to post you for your birthday!" You gasp excitedly. You two joke around as you upload to your pages.
y/u/n
liked by haileybeiber, landonorris and 1,472,872 others
y/u/n my favorite holiday, happy birthday lewlew, i love you to the moon and back, although you love to move through life fast I am always happy to spend slow days like this together with you cheetah, thank you for the lifelong memories and for sticking by me, i love you like no other <3
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whitwhit mum and dad â¤ď¸ happy birthday pops
fencer Petition to make today a national holiday.
lewishamiton I love you more than life bunny, Thank you for today it was everything I needed.
lewishamilton
liked by mercedesamg, charles_leclerc and 3,563,986 others
lewishamilton Another one đ Always a blast spending time with the people I love. Blessed to see another year surrounded by those I love. Special shoutout to bunny for the impromptu birthday celebration, every year that passes I am reminded of how we've gone through life together, always. Can't wait to spend many more years surrounded by love and happiness, thank you for the birthday wishes.
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user the way his post is full of him and y/n as kids. they really grew with each other đĽš
y/u/n cakes and candles my guy i luv uuuu
morismith +1 dad 𼳠child of a happy and healthy marriage
You two laugh as you scroll through your friends' comments. Somewhere along the line of you two passing the bottle back and forth, you began your own game of twenty-one questions, extra juicy, seeing as you two already knew damn near everything about the other.
"Hmmm!" you light up, "take a shot, or tell me why Nicki called you a weird little guy."Â
Lewis smacks his teeth but breaks into a fit of laughter as you turn over, propping your chin up against his arm. Your feet kick back and forth as you stare into him.
"You're messy." He declares, downing another shot.
You groan, reaching over his bare body to take the bottle. "And you're no fun."
"What's one thing you've never told anyone, including me? I mean deepest, darkest secret."
You hum again, allowing Lewis to reposition the two of you. Now he is rested against the headboard, and your head rests on his lap. You let out a gentle moan when his fingers begin to rub against your scalpâhis member twitches in his boxers.
"Answer the question." He demands his hands, pushing your head forward slightly to avoid the feel of his growing penis.
Your eyes bore into his, and he could see you fighting to decide whether to tell him or not. He almost tells you to take your shot until the words tumble from your plush lips.
"I used to have the biggest crush on you for the longest time, like probably was in love with you." You admit. Your eyes never leave his and it has his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He feels many questions running through his mind and they want to tumble out like an avalanche but like the relaxed person he is, he plays it cool.
"yeah, and what happened to these feelings, bunny?"
You smile at the nickname, rolling your eyes as you scoff. Lewis always picked at your cute persona as a kid, calling you as sweet and timid as a bunny, the bunny teeth also didn't help.
"You almost got married," you answered. "Realized that a childhood crush was just that, I let it simmer for so long that I made it seem realistic. When you started considering taking things further, I think I closed that book, locked that door, and threw away the key. It was easy when you left her and started running rabid like a fucking dog." you snort.
He laughs with you, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You calling me a slut?"
"If the condom fits." You tease.Â
He rolls his eyes, but deep down inside, he is in shambles over the chance with you that he's missed. And he's regretting every decision that led up to you losing those feelings for him. "Next question."
You're staring deep into his soul with those sparkly eyes again and he can't help but return the same lovey eyes back. He always feels like this with you, wholly enamored and floored by anything that you do.Â
You look so sweet and perfect that he doesn't expect the question that falls from your lovely mouth. "What's your favorite kink, like what's something that you do during sex that has you absolutely ready to go berserk?"
"You got a dirty mind, bunny." He teases, two fingers tapping against your temple.
"I've got a breeding kink, I think." He doesn't go into full detail, describing how he discovered it years ago when out shopping with you, and you passed through the baby aisle to shop for his newborn niece at the time. He doesn't describe how his pants tightened at the sight of you holding up cute little onesies or how his mind wandered to you laying spread out in his bed, being pumped full of his cum and loving it, begging for it. He doesn't tell you how he came the hardest he'd ever come in his life that night in his shower, imagining you plump with his child and a bright smile on your lips.
"Elaborate." There is a glint in your eyes as you observe him that urges him to finish his thoughts.
"It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you. You love someone so much that you want them to swell up with what is yours. Just fucking the cum back into them every time it slips out, one goal. Give someone my babies."
As he talks, his own words excite him; you can feel it, and you say nothing. The air surrounding you two is charged with such a lewd and sensual energy.
You throb between your thighs as he speaks to you, and his voice is getting deeper and deeper. He is hot and hard against your cheek; you stare up at him, your eyes leaving his own to trail the way his lips move to the way his jaw clenches, to the way his throat bobs all the way to his tatted, glowing chest. His words are getting to you. It's no secret that you, too, had a breeding kink, but hearing him say the words you wished to hear spoken to you in the midst of passion made you shoot into action. You are on his lap before you know it, mouth mushing against his in an instant.
He doesn't hesitate to return the favor; he separates your lips, gliding his tongue into your mouth, licking you open. You moan into his mouth, pressing yourself against him harder. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, reaching one hand up to grasp the back of your neck and the other on your ass, pushing you impossibly closer to him.
You rock your hips against him, grinding down over him; he lets out a raspy groan, pulling away from your lips, his head falling to watch where your bodies connect; he lets out a moan as his grey briefs darken in color. You continue to glide back and forth over him
You swear you hear him whimper as you lift from his lap. He reaches to pull you back, but you are too fast; kneeling between his spread legs, the sight alone has him letting out another drawn-out whine. Your hand creeps up, rubbing him through the material. You were such a fucking vixen it was driving him mad. His head falls back against the headboard, and his eyes squeeze shut. You're barely doing anything to him, and it feels better than anything he's ever experienced, and he can only equate it to it being you.
You finally free him from his confines, and his head drops down to view you, and his jaw falls slack.
You jerk him up and down, your thumb swiping over the slit at the head of his perfect cock. You moan at the sight, and he twitches. You kiss at the top, staring at him through your lashes, and he swears he almost burst right then and there. Your lips are shiny with spit and you're practically drooling over him. As you place kisses up and down his shaft. You finally slip him into your mouth humming as you taste him. It has his legs spasming making you jostle a little.
You pop him from your mouth, giving him a cute smile that has him throwing his head back. She's going to fucking kill me.
You're moaning over him, driving him absolutely fucking insane. Lewis watches you through clouded eyes, his hand traveling to your hair. He pushes you lower and lower until you're shoving all of him down your throat, and then he pulls you off for air. You smile up at him going down again, and he lets out the nastiest moan you've ever heard.
"So fucking greedy for my dick." You'd never heard him speak like this, and it was scrambling your brain and your insides. "Mhmm," you moan over him. He holds onto your hair with his left hand, his right hand trailing to pull up the shirt that adorns your beautiful body. The higher he raises the shirt, the more unstable he becomes; the black panties cover barely anything, and when he continues to glide his hand up your back, your breasts hang loosely. He fondled them in his hand tweaking your nipple.
He tenses up, watching you take him down your throat like a champ, "fuuckk."Â
He pulls you up for the last time, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. He thrust up into nothing. His tongue finds it's way into your mouth and moves along with you in the most sensual kiss you'd ever gotten in your life.
"Lew." you whine, and it has him tensing again. This was better than he'd imagined. For years for his entire life he'd pictured this moment, played it out in a million different scenarios and they don't even measure up to this.
He was harder than he'd ever been and ready to finish at the mere sight of you looking up at him with his cock stuffed in your mouth.
"I can't- I won't last-" He is breathless, and his chest is falling up and down harshly. He looks so perfect, face tinted red and lips red and plump.
"Fuck me then," you order, and it flips a switch in him.
He'd dreamed of this moment, and he would be damned if he let his mind fuck this up for him. He pulls the large shirt from your frame and flips you over, laying you gently on your back. He hikes your legs up, spreading them open and pressing them down. Your knees touch the bed flat at your sides, and you mewl as his tongue flatly glides against your core.
You shiver and shake as he sucks you up. You can't stop squirming as he literally eats you. You moan his name over and over, hands coming down to clutch his curls. He moans against your core, pressing you down harder. You quiver in his hold, and you can feel that ball inside you, ready to burst. "Come for me, baby, let it out." He urges kissing your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, and that's when it happens.
The best orgasm you've had in your life. He licks you through it before sitting up on his knees. He still has you spread open at his mercy, and the sight below him has him stroking himself above you.
"So fucking pretty." he rasps, "ready for me?"
You nod, so fucked out that words seem impossible to you.
He chuckles, his hand coming up to hold you open as his other directs his hard dick to your hole; he pushes the head in at first, hissing as you suck him in. "Mhhm," he moans, "want me so bad, huh?"
You mewl, trying to push your body up to push him in.
"Aht, aht." he pushes his hand against you harder. "Let me take my time, make it right for us, yeah. Been wanting this forever."
His words make you gush more and more; you'd never imagine that Lewis, of all people, was this vocal during sex.
"He lets go of himself, both hands now gripping your thighs that are still burning against your chest. He stares deep into your soul as he pushes himself in an inch just to ease out just as slowly.
"Gotta stretch this pretty pussy out first, huh? So fucking tight." he coos.
Your eyes fall closed, your mouth going slack as he slides in again. "It's your dick, baby. All yours."
"C'mon bunny, wanna see your eyes, wanna watch you take me." You open your eyes breaths leaving you as little hitches as he finally fills you up.
"He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes watching where the two of you connect. "Fits so good," he groans, "made jus' for me."
You only mewl and clench the sheets.
"So pretty," he drops your legs, propping himself up on an elbow; his weight covers you like a security blanket. "Mhmm." he moans, sliding in and out of you. Your walls were suffocating him, sucking him in and trying to keep him in place. His face is scrunched up in pure pleasure as he succumbs to your velvety walls. So fucking warm and wet.
"Love this pussy." he groans before his mouth is back on yours.Â
"Say it's mine," he orders pulling back, he is towering over you again, one hand clutching your face to watch him watch you.
You only moan, equating his words to being in the moment even though they have your stomach doing flips.
"Say it's mine, baby, and I'll give you what you want."Â
It's like he hit a switch in you, brought out a side of you that you've never been able to release.
"It's yours," you coo, "all yours, only yours."
His eyes shine at your words, pressing a quick peck to your lips.Â
"Nobody can give it to you like me, they don't deserve it, been so good to you. Hmm. Can give you everything you want."
One hand travels down to your stomach, where he presses down, "Feel me in there?"
"yes." you gasp, eyes rolling back; the sex is no longer slow and sensual. He is pounding into you so hard that your body lurches up and down the bed, and your breast bounces with every thrust.Â
Lewis Hamilton is a dirty man, you conclude watching his lips fall open from the dirty smirk he'd had it in.Â
"Got something else to put in there." You clench around him tighter curses falling from his mouth as he stills inside of you.
You know he is only in the moment, this whole debacle started because of his admission of a praise kink, you know he's playing along with yours, he wants to get you there in the same way you want to get him there so you play along.
"I want it." you whine, "want it all."
Lewis thought it was impossible for him to get any hornier, but once again, you've proven him wrong.
"Want you to fill me up, want to be full of you." You play on his words from earlier. "Want all of you."
He moans once again, spreading you open. He is plowing into you. Loud grunts left his throat as he digs deeper and deeper into you. He can feel every crevice of your flesh as you swallow him.
"Gonna give you what you want, make you big and full, have you carrying my babies. Going to have what you always wanted, love."
Your eyes fall shut at his words in utter bliss.
He lays on top of you, the burn of your thighs spreading. His hands travel to your own, holding them on either side of your head. His head is nestled between the crook of your neck; he's sucking and licking along your neck. You feel him everywhere.
"mmph," you moan as he reaches and punches against your sweet spot over and over.Â
Lewis is so fucked out in a loving haze that he can't control the words tumbling from his lips onto your skin.
"Wanted this forever, so long." He whimpers, "Feel so good, only wanna feel you. Only wanted you."
You free one hand from his hold wrapping it around to rub at the curls at the nape of his neck. You want him to keep talking, keep feeding you the words you've waited your whole life for him to say. "I can give you everything you want, baby."
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you can't tell if it's from the pleasure he's giving you or the words he's dribbling out.
"Taking me so well, fuck!" he sits up on his knees again, turning you over without pulling out of you; you're on all fours as he plows into you from behind.Â
"So mean, making me wait so long, letting me be with the wrong woman, should've been you." You clench around him eyes squeezing shut, you shouldn't enjoy these words as much as you do but you can't help it.
"Wanted it to be you, would've had our family by now, so many kids, so happy." You're literally shaking, the fire growing inside of you, making it impossible to ward off your second orgasm.Â
"Been looking for you in all these women, never were you, never could be. Fucking couldn't get hard without imagining your face. Always had to be you." He sounds so vulnerable and open behind you. You want to see his face so badly, and you want to watch him as he admits what you've always desired.
Like he read your mind, he flips you over again, nestling between your legs and pushing himself in again with a hiss, "Gotta see your face when you come, love."
You're on top of him, relishing in the way he looks up at you. Your thighs are placed on either side of him lifting over and over as he glides in and out of you.
He looks so beautiful, you think even if he is spitting out the most wild and lewd words you've ever had spoken to you. "Gonna empty this dick in you baby, give you my baby. Make you mine, all mine." He growls.
"Could've had this all along if you said something sooner, bunny. Would have had you feeling like this all of the time."
His hands are on your waist, lifting you up and down over him. You fall forward one hand holding you up and the other reaching down to cup his jaw. You press your lips over his, breathless pants traveling from one mouth to the other. The eye contact is intense as you stare each other down. His eyes literally sparkle as he fuck up into you, his mouth dropped open. You kiss him one last time before sitting up again and setting your own pace, "Fuck Lew, you feel so good."
You're bouncing on him at a much slower pace as his eyes fall closed and his grip tightens on your flesh.
You're not responsible for what you say when you cum, it's common knowledge, which is why when Lewis flips you over and barrels into you at a much softer pace you let his words carry no penalty, albeit the way they make your eyes water, albeit the way you return them truthfully.
It's so overwhelming you can't help the way the tears flow from your eyes and slide onto the sheets. He's cumming in spurts, hot and gooey, filling you to the brim. Lewis has never come so much. He lets out an array of grunts and moans. He's so out of it that he lets his words tumble out without a care in the world, and he means them wholly. He's fucking his cum into you, pushing it back in with his dick as you quiver around him.Â
"Love you, fuck, I fucking love you."
#lewis hamilton#x black reader#lewis hamilton x black reader#f1#formula 1#formual one#lewis hamilton imagine
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