#so i had to replay the first few chapters already

[goatsghost]

guys i’m about to lose my fucking mind bc i’m on my fourth full playthrough of gotham knights (trying to record all cutscenes and dialogues for each character) and i’ve realized i lost about 10 minutes of video from the kane industries section and there’s no way to go back to one specific section without starting over — y’all i can’t do this a fifth fucking time

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 3

(Rafe Cameron x reader, series, 5.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/themes, heavy drinking, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

The game was on, and Carter wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

You however, were much less invested in her scheme to set you up with Tom, already feeling tired and confused after 24-hours of this little reunion trip. You laid in bed for quite a while replaying the almost-moment you’d had with Rafe in the kitchen in your head before taking a long, dreamless nap. It was the smell of the barbeque wafting through your bedroom window that woke you up. You threw your hair up in a bun, too groggy to care about putting any more effort into your appearance.

As you reached for the handle, you heard two hushed voices arguing behind your bedroom door. You opened it slowly to reveal Carter and Topper facing each other, both with their arms crossed as they carried on a heated whisper-argument.

“What are you even doing up here Topper?” Carter demanded.

“I don’t know, what are you doing up here Carter? Trying to get a leg up?” Topper snapped back, towering over her in height yet still somehow looking small under her glare.

They were so locked in on each other that neither of them had even noticed your appearance.

“Um, hi,” you waved your hand between their faces to get their attention. “Can I help you?”

They looked at you, startled as their arms fell and stances softened. Carter eyed your outfit up and down, trying to hide her distaste at your choice of leggings and a t-shirt.

“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing up here but I came to see if you needed help getting ready,” Carter replied.

“I am ready,” you said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You’re, uh,” Topper scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You squinted at him, you could understand Carter critiquing your outfit, knowing she was trying to set you up with Tom, but what stake did Topper have in your outfit choice?

“We’re literally just going downstairs,” you countered.

“Maybe throw on something a little nicer,” Carter urged gently.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in. “You two are being so weird today.”

Topper gave you a thumbs up as you closed the door in their faces.

A few minutes later you reemerged in a new outfit, a crocheted halter top and some cut-offs. You had let your hair down and ran a brush through it, dabbed on some mascara and lipgloss. It was the maximum amount of effort you were willing to put into a big night out in the backyard.

Despite everyone’s relentless teasing, Topper actually was a pretty good cook. The food was great and everyone thanked you, Rafe, and Tom for going out to get it.

“Tom paid!” you announced. “So everyone make sure to be really nice to him or he won’t bankroll us anymore.”

You smiled at Tom, who grinned back and waved you off in joking modesty. You let your eyes linger as he leaned over the firepit on the other side of the sprawling patio, skillfully stacking the wood before lighting a match and holding it under. He crouched low to blow gently on the kindling, causing the fire to roar to life. You could see a sliver of his toned lower back peeking out from his shirt as he reached for another log, dropping it straight into his newly sparked flame with a bare hand. The whole thing was unbelievably attractive.

The only thing better was the stoney look on Rafe’s face when you caught his eye, realizing he’d noticed the way you were looking at Tom like you wanted to have him for dessert. Good. 

Playing and replaying the scene from the kitchen in your head all afternoon, you came downstairs determined to freeze Rafe out. Sure, he remembered your favorite candy and maybe almost even apologized, but it wasn’t enough to erase the sting you felt when he pulled away from you like you had the plague as soon as anyone else entered the room.

After dinner, you were perched on the railing of the porch, sipping something strong and chatting with Carter and her childhood best friend, Maddie.

Maddie was nice enough, the Kook academy prom queen two years in a row, but she had never shown much interest in you. Until you showed up here looking much more instagram-worthy than you had in high school.

“So, omg,” Maddie started, playing with a strand of your hair like you were the closest of friends. “When are you gonna drop the workout routine? You look gorg.”

Never once had one of Carter’s friends complimented your looks. 

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I play a lot of volleyball and jog a little.”

“Well it’s working!” Kelce hollered from across the porch, already wobbling slightly from his inebriation.

There it was again, your blush, always showing up at the least opportune times. All eyes were on you, such open talk about your body making your skin crawl with self-consciousness. You looked over the railing to the sand a few feet down, wondering how badly the jump would hurt.

As always, knowing you better than anyone, Carter felt like she could read your mind. Protectiveness roared in her chest, she set her hand over yours to silently tell you she understood before turning to the party and announcing, “okay, we’re playing a game! Everyone around the fire pit!”

No one argued with her wishes, they never did. The group gathered around the bonfire, each with a full drink in hand as Carter unnecessarily explained the rules to never have I ever as if this same group hadn’t played it a hundred times in high school. 

You appreciated Carter moving the attention off of you, but clearly she didn’t know this was your least favorite game in the world. The second the name of the game came out of her mouth, your heart dropped to your stomach, hit with memories of sitting off to the side while her friends played, all of your fingers embarrassingly still up, revealing you had done nothing interesting or scandalous in your life.

Sure, you’d definitely added a few notches to your belt since then, but you knew these people and had no doubt you were still way behind. The sad thing is you didn’t even care, but you knew they would and you couldn’t help that nagging desire to prove that you were just as cool as them. You sighed as you settled in your chair next to Carter, frustrated that just as you were starting to feel somewhat normal, you were transported right back to your loneliest days.

Carter went first, “never have I everrr…shoplifted.”

Sabrina took a giggly sip from her solo cup.

“Isn’t your dad’s networth like a billion dollars?” Kelce asked.

“Yes, but he never would’ve bought me those red panties, so I took ‘em,” she winked at him, and he scooted his chair closer to her.

Everyone else still had all ten fingers up, making you think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

But your relief didn’t last long. One by one they went around the circle, revealing each other’s secrets and leaving you with ten fingers up.

“Never have I ever done a body shot.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever hooked up in a public place.” Your fingers stayed up. 

As the group got tipsier, the revelations got dirtier. You were sure some of them were lying and there was some temptation for you to put a finger down as a lie too just to level the playing field, but that was such teenage bullshit. You might not have as a high of a body count as some of them, but you still had your pride. 

The blood rushed from you face when Maddie said, “never have I ever been with two people at once” and Rafe put his last finger down, smirking as he finished off his beer.

A few more rounds passed and everyone else had put at least a couple fingers down while you still hadn’t done a single one of the things listed. You chewed on your lip, wondering how early was too early to excuse yourself to go to bed.

You were about to make a break for it, when a now sloppily drunk Sabrina pointed at you and slurred, “aww bambi’s still got ten!”

Bambi was another one of the many teasing nicknames they’d called you in high school, and it might just be your least favorite. 

“You’re still such a good girl,” Sabrina jibed. 

She must’ve been beyond wasted. She wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t usually this much of a bitch.

Your breaths got short, the anxiety erupting like fireworks in your chest. You could feel Carter’s mind spinning next to you, trying to come up with some way to defend you, but another voice beat her to it.

“Well,” Rafe said, drawing all eyes off of you and across the firepit towards him. “Never have I ever gotten so crossfaded at a boneyard party that I pissed my pants in someone else’s truck.”

He shot Sabrina a vindictive smile.

“Rafe!” She protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!” 

At her admission, everyone broke out into laughter, aimed at her.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Rafe chuckled, “you just did.”

“Bruhh,” Kelce hollered. “That’s nasty!”

Sabrina went red, completely humiliated. You tried to be a girl’s girl, but after years of her teasing and making you feel like a loser, you couldn’t help but join in the laughter at her expense. 

As she emptied her cup spitefully, you caught Rafe’s gaze across the fire, the air between you wavy with the flame’s heat. He smiled a crooked, satisfied smile at you, and you mouthed “thank you.” He gave you a reassuring wink and your stomach did cartwheels. 

Carter straightened in her lawn chair next to you, kicking herself for giving Rafe the chance to save you before she could.

“I’ve got one!” she announced, and the crowd hushed to hear their queen. “Never have I ever skinny dipped in the campus fountain and got caught by campus security but successfully flirted my way out of a citation and ended up getting the cop’s number.”

Everyone looked around the circle quizzically, wondering who that incredibly specific anecdote was aimed at.

“No fucking way!” Topper shouted when he saw you put down your pinky finger with a bashful smile.

Topper and Kelce whooped, and the girls all gave you impressed looks.

“Okay baddie!” Maddie gasped. “Was he cute? Did you call him?”

“I mean he wasn’t not cute,” you mused, taking the obligatory sip of your drink. “We hung out a few times.”

“So does that mean you’re into handcuffs now orrr…” Kelce chimed in.

“Oops, I put the wrong fingers down,” you lifted your hand and theatrically put all down except your middle finger, aiming it at Kelce.

The crowd erupted with laughs and amused ohhhh’s. Even Rafe was smiling, and you couldn’t help but wish you knew what he was thinking, noticing his soft eyes on you as you bantered with his friends, all attention on you. This time, you weren’t blushing, you were just enjoying yourself. It felt so nice to have such a naturally fun and easy moment, but it was short lived.

“Never have I ever,” Sabrina interrupted, hiccuping. “Failed an entire semester of college.”

The crowd fell silent once again, no one daring to bring their eyes to Rafe, the clear target of her comeback. He just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, like it didn’t bother him at all. But you could see the hint of shame in his eyes, a rare glimpse of vulnerability hidden under his tough facade. You used to spend so much of your time digging for those deeper layers that it was easy for you to pick up on them when they rose to the surface, even if it was just for a second.

Maybe you should let him flounder, leave him hanging like he’d done to you so many times before. But tonight, for the first time ever, he had jumped in to defend you, and maybe one act of kindness wouldn’t kill you.

“Fuck this game. Topper, didn’t you say something earlier about a beer pong tournament?” You prompted him, hoping desperately he’d see what you were trying to do and play along.

Topper looked confused at first, so you smiled tightly and flicked your eyes to Rafe and back as quickly as possible, urging him to understand.

Ever the king of subtlety, Topper’s eyes went wide as he mouthed “ohhhh!” 

Rafe saw the whole thing.

“Beer pong! Yes!” Topper said, excited to finally be in the loop. “Let’s do it!”

“I wanna play!” Sabrina stood quickly from her chair, immediately tripping over her own feet.

“Woah,” Carter caught her and held her up with some effort, Sabrina so far gone she couldn’t even use her legs. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

Carter stabilized Sabrina and guided her towards the house. You knew she was pissed at Sabrina for picking on you, but Carter would never leave a drunk girl to stumble around a party by herself. She looked at you apologetically, but you nodded to let her know you were fine.

After they disappeared into the house, Topper and Kelce got to work clearing the long outdoor dining table for beer pong, filling cups and placing them with great attention to detail. You chuckled at the way they were arguing over correct cup spacing and fill levels as you reached down into the cooler for another drink. When you stood, Tom appeared by your side.

“I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with a criminal,” he drawled, mouth quirked with a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah,” you played along, popping the top of your drink. “I’m wanted in four states and Puerto Rico.”

“And Puerto Rico, wow,” he leaned his arm against the porch rail, his body angling towards yours in a way that made your skin prick with goosebumps. “I need to hear that story.”

“I’d tell you,” you lowered your voice and lifted your mouth towards his ear to whisper. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

“You’re in that deep, huh?” He placed his other hand on the railing on the other side of you, effectively caging you in, though he held himself back far enough to give you some space. You didn’t want space, though, the enticing scent of whiskey and the smoke from the fire drawing you to him.

“Mhm,” you leaned in so your chests were almost touching, a smile tugging his full lips when he noticed the way you intentionally closed the space between you. “If you thought the campus fountain story was bad…”

“I didn’t think it was bad,” he shook his head.

“No?” You grinned, eager to see where he was going with this.

“Not bad, kind of hot, but not bad,” he confessed.

“Only kind of?” You furrowed your brow in mock offense.

He broke into a smile and blushed, flustered as he said, “I mean, uh…”

You giggled. His bashful, dimpled smile was so painfully cute you were suddenly seeing the value to Carter’s matchmaking plan.

The alcohol in your system mixed with the warmth radiating off of him made your body go hot, tingles shooting up your spine as his eyes fell to your lips. He was so damn pretty. Warm brown eyes and messy hair you wanted to tangle your fingers in.

Rafe grabbed the fire poker and busied himself by tending to the flames, which didn’t really need it, considering Tom had built such a sturdy fire. The sound of your sweet giggles floating through the air as you flirted with Tom made him want to walk straight off the porch and into the ocean. He’d surely put his lifelong friendship with Sabrina on the line, not to mention his own pride, to keep you from running away in embarrassment, and now Tom was reaping the rewards of his chivalry. 

He remembered, though. Maybe you didn’t think he did, but he remembered. The nights you sat in the corner, lonely, pining, and the go-to butt of his friends’ stupid jokes. And he’d just sat by and let it happen, so many times. It���s no wonder you were leaned up against someone else, sharing stories about a whole chapter of your life he’d missed. He only had himself to blame.

Once the table was set up, Topper turned and frowned at the way the group had split, you and Tom cozy in the corner while Rafe stood by the fire alone, shoulders tense. He needed to step up his Cupid game, like, now.

He clapped his hands loudly, voice booming as he announced to the party that it was time to play. The startling sound forced Tom away from you just as you were about to ask him if he wanted to walk down to the water. Topper pointed right at you and pronounced you would be on his team. You were going to protest before you remembered beer pong was your idea in the first place, your ruse to protect Rafe. You couldn’t back out now.

Beer pong was another thing you’d added to your skill set in college. In high school, you were never asked to join when parties inevitably broke into a tournament. Instead you’d sit quietly and watch with hearts in your eyes as Rafe played with the competitiveness of an Olympian in a gold medal race.

He was known for his terrible sportsmanship, everyone expected a full tantrum if he didn’t win. The same went for school sports, you’d spent every night after a rare loss up on the phone with him listening intently while he ranted about all the ways the refs were wrong or the umps were blind. At the time, you took it as an honor that you were the one he wanted to find solace in. Now, grown and mature, you saw it for what it really was; no one else wanted to listen to him bitch and moan, so you were just his only option.

“Let’s go, Little Carter!” Topper raised his hand for a high five as you approached the table.

“If you call me that, I’m not playing,” you left him hanging.

“My bad, my bad,” he conceded.

You gave in and high fived him, stepping up to the table with your game face on. Kelce and Maddie stood across from you. They were both terrible shots, and you sunk every ball, but Topper was keeping them in the game with his many misses. 

Topper was great at beer pong in high school and you were sure he’d had plenty of practice at U of F, so there was no reason he should be playing so horribly.

“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” You scolded him after another throw that was way off.

“I dunno,” Topper said with an exaggerated drunken slur in his voice. “I think I’m just too wasted to play. You might need another partner.”

Before you could mock him for his dramatics, he had called over to Rafe, who was sitting back in a lounge chair looking at his phone, anything to keep his eyes off of you.

“What?” He grumbled, eyes lifting from his screen and avoiding yours.

“Need you to sub in for me,” Topper fake hiccupped and you rolled your eyes.

You were sure Rafe would see you were his proposed partner and pass on the opportunity, but then he and Topper had some kind of silent conversation with their eyes that you couldn’t interpret, and Rafe stood from his chair.

“You don’t have to,” you offered as he stepped up and took the ball from Topper.

You hated that your instinct was to apologize for inconveniencing him. He shrugged and lined up his first shot.

“Someone’s gotta show ‘em how it’s done,” he said with an easy grin that made your heart beat a little faster. 

If only your younger self could see how your night was progressing. Impressing everyone during never have I ever. Flirting with a gorgeous boy from another school. And now, Rafe smiling at you and acknowledging your presence in front of all these people, willingly agreeing to be your teammate. She’d have died and gone to heaven.

He had every right to be cocky; he was really good. And to his great surprise, so were you. You and Rafe made quick work of Kelce and Maddie, then Kelce and Jack, then Kelce and three more partners that tried to step up to the plate, Kelce’s aim worsening as he teetered on the edge of a blackout.

“When did you get so good at this?” Rafe asked you after a partcualrly skillful shot.

“I was always good at it,” you scoffed. “You just never let me play.”

After that comment, Rafe was suddenly an extra encouraging teammate. Before each shot he’d pull you back, leaning down to whisper in your ear conspiratorially about which cup you should call, like an NFL coach rallying his quarterback.

“I can’t hit the far corner, my aim isn’t that good,” you said when he proposed the risky shot. 

Self-doubt filled your face as you bit your lip, Rafe recognizing the nervous tick instantly.

“Nah you got it!” he grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you playfully. “You just gotta believe in yourself.” 

Despite yourself, you broke into a smile, making a feeble attempt to brush him away, though he could tell you didn’t mean it.

“Let’s go slugger,” Rafe placed the ball in your hand and guided you into position by your shoulders. He stood behind you and leaned in to bring his mouth close to your ear. “You got this.”

You loved it. You hated it. Your head swirled with conflicting thoughts, but when you sunk the ball with a flick of your wrist, they all faded.

“Let’s fucking gooo!” Rafe yelled.

He lifted his hand for a double high five and you stood on your tiptoes to reach. Your arms came down, but your hands were still in his.

“Told ‘ya,” he said tenderly, smiling down at you as his large hands enveloped yours. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Despite the alarms blaring in your head, telling you to run, you let it all linger. The deep sound of his voice in the air, his eyes on your lips, his rough hands folded in yours.

“Okay!” Carter chose that minute to emerge from the house after Sabrina finally fell asleep. “That’s enough wins for y’all, time for some real competition.”

The sound of her voice snapped you out of the moment, and you pulled your hands away from Rafe quickly, nervous about all the eyes on you for the first time since you’d started playing.

“I need a partner,” Carter said, surveying the group on the patio. “How about…”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where she was going with this show and wishing she’d just fast forward to the end.

“Tom?” She raised her eyebrows in his direction, as if it was a crazy idea she had just come up with. “Do you play?”

“I may have taken part in a tourney or two,” Tom said humbly.

“Bullshit,” Kelce exclaimed, slumped in a chair as his head spun. “This guy was the Alpha Tau champion all four years. He’s got a plaque and everything.”

“Damn, I didn’t know we had Alpha Tau royalty in our midst!” Carter bantered.

“Jesus, enough with the fanfare, are you playing or not, dude?” Rafe snapped.

Carter eyed you, her lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. No one was surprised at Rafe’ gruffness, more than used to his competitive mean streak. It was not one of his more attractive qualities. The pull you’d just felt to him faltered a little at the reminder of this particular weakness. You were sure that’s exactly what Carter was hoping for.

“Alright I’m in,” Tom said, stepping up to the table and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.” He winked at you.

“Yeah, yeah, just call your shot, champ,” Rafe said.

The four of you reset the cups, not much work needing to be done on you and Rafe’s side of the table since almost no one had scored on you. As Tom lined up his first shot, he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, adjusting and readjusting his stance to get comfortable.

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest mumbling something along the lines of “this fuckin’ guy” and you couldn’t help but smile, admittedly also kind of getting the ick from how seriously Tom was taking this. 

Then he sunk every ball. After a few particularly good rounds, he made his third shot in a row, and Carter called “fire.” She handed him balls one after another like he was taking free throws, wiggling her eyebrows at you to make sure you were paying attention to his triumph.

You drank each cup obediently, ever the rule follower. After your fourth, you were getting so sick of the stale beer, you and Rafe’s cups had been sitting untouched all night and the cheap hops had soured significantly. When Tom sunk another one you grabbed the cup hesitantly, queasy, nearly gagging.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Rafe volunteered, grabbing the cup from you.

“Y’all don’t have to drink those if they’re really that bad,” Tom offered, pausing his next shot when he noticed how disgusted you looked.

“I got it, man,” Rafe waved him off, holding his nose and shooting back the beer as quickly as possible. He dropped the empty cup with a grimace.

“We can just call it a game,” Tom suggested, clearly feeling bad.

“Do you want to forfeit?” You asked Rafe, dropping your voice so Carter and Tom couldn’t hear.

“What and just wave the white flag?” Rafe replied, eyebrows raised. “Do you?

Your lips spread in a slow smile, “not a fucking chance.”

“Atta girl,” he nodded, returning his gaze to Tom. “We’re no quitters, hit us again big guy.”

And he did, over and over, until there was only one cup left on your side of the table. As he prepped for his final shot, Rafe turned to you, a playful, tipsy smile on his face.

“We had a good run,” He said, reaching out shake your hand. You took it with a smile.

When Tom and Carter won, high fiving each other in a loud celebration, all eyes fell to Rafe, waiting to see how he’d react to losing. You tensed, hoping his chipper attitude when you were winning would carry over into a graceful loss. But then he rounded the table, striding towards Tom, and you cringed in anticipation of a classic Rafe Cameron Temper Tantrum.

“Oh boy,” Carter mumbled under her breath. “Here we go.”

But there was no blow up, just Rafe extending his hand to Tom, who took it with a friendly shake.

“Good game, man,” Rafe said. 

“Yeah, you too, dude,” Tom smiled, not realizing this show of sportsmanship was a historical first.

Rafe tilted his head in a friendly nod towards your sister, “Carter.”

“Rafael,” she returned his sarcastic tone, purposefully using his least favorite nickname.

With that, Rafe walked away from the table, one last glance towards you as he returned to his seat by the fire. You watched him go, feeling sad not that you had lost, but that your fun night with Rafe had seemingly come to an end.

It was dizzying, your ever-changing emotional state, and you suspected it had very little to do with the beer. Thinking over all the events of the day gave you whiplash. One second you were about ready to ask Tom if he wanted to come back to your room, the next it felt like you and Rafe were finally sharing the moment you’d dreamt of for years. All the while, you weren’t sure you actually wanted either of them, or if you even wanted to be here at all.

“Wanna play again?” Carter asked, noticing the distracted look on your face.

“I’m good,” you smiled at her appreciatively, deciding you’d had enough excitement for one day. “I think I’m probably just going to bed now.”

“Aww, but it’s so early grandma,” Topper called over to you from the firepit.

You walked over to his chair and peched on the armrest.

 “Ah yes, another one of my favorite nicknames,” you joked. “No one’s called me that in four years.”

“Another inside joke?” Tom inquired, joining the circle, he and Carter each grabbing a chair.

“In high school, she was always the first to leave parties. She’d rather be at home in bed with a book by 9pm,” Topper explained to him.

You rose from his chair, eager to ditch this little trip down memory lane before it got too embarrassing. You almost made a clean escape, but then a very drunk Kelce decided to chime in.

“Unless Rafe asked her to stay,” he laughed. “Then she’d be there allll night.”

Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’ve been embarrassed a thousand times in your life, but this was something different. You looked down at your feet, not sure what you were supposed to do. No quick, face saving remark was coming to mind.

Carter smacked Kelce on the arm, while Topper shook his head with a disapproving, “dude…” 

Your eyes drifted to Rafe, who was looking down at his hands uncomfortably. Whatever protective instinct that had inspired him to stand up for you earlier was clearly gone as he left you to drown in the painfully awkward silence.

“Oh, were you two…?” Tom asked, pointing between you and Rafe quizzically.

“Nope,” you told him with a stiff smile.

He looked like he was about to ask more, but caught on at the last second, reading in between the lines. There it was, the last person here who didn’t know about your pathetic past was now caught up to speed. Yeah, you’d definitely had enough.

“Kelce, you’re such an asshole,” Carter began reprimanding him.

“Just stop,” you urged her. “It’s fine, I’m just going to bed.”

“Wait!” She called after you, but you were already walking toward the house, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. She gave Kelce one last slap and rushed after you.

Kelce, barely conscious, still hadn’t caught up with his own party foul.

“Where’s she going?” He asked Topper.

Rafe stood from his chair suddenly. 

“Will you get him out of here please?” He spat at Topper, sidestepping the fire as he stormed off toward the house.

Rafe followed your path into the kitchen, not sure what he was going to say when he caught up to you, but suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make it right. He should’ve said something as soon as Kelce put his foot in his mouth. He’d deal with that dumbass later.

He slid the kitchen door open, headed towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, but he stopped short when he heard your voice. He stayed back, out of sight but close enough to hear your conversation with Carter on the stairs.

“Carter, it’s fine,” you sighed.

“No it’s fucking not, he made you cry,” Carter practically growled.

Rafe’s heart dropped. You were crying? He was gonna kick Kelce’s ass as soon as he was sober enough to feel pain.

“I’m just tired,” you sniffled. “Please, just drop it for now. I just wanna go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter said, her voice starting to crack. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to stay.”

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I knew he was gonna be here.”

Rafe frowned. Was the ‘he’ you were referring to still Kelce, or was it him? Was his presence really so distressing to you that you were in tears?

Carter reluctantly bid you goodnight, and Rafe slipped into the pantry so she wouldn’t see him when she descended the stairs back into the kitchen, storming towards the backyard, surely on her way to give Kelce hell.

He stood in the walk-in pantry for a minute, collecting his thoughts. 

Maybe he should be the one to leave. If his presence really was such torment to you, it would be the right thing to do. But you didn’t seem tormented earlier when you were playing beer pong with him, cheering each other on and laughing like friends. Or before, at the fire, when you’d come to each other’s defense. Even his two best friends hadn’t seen that Sabrina’s words actually hurt him, but you did. You always knew him better than anyone.

While he stood in the pantry, illuminated only by the single light bulb above his head, his eyes grazed over the shelf. Between a stack of paper plates and some hamburger buns, sat the candy he had picked out for you at the store. He smiled at the memory of your many car rides as teenagers, fueled by the snacks you had brought when you picked him up. Maybe you regretted those times now, but something about the fact that this was still your favorite candy made him feel better.

His stomach twisted with worry that after what Kelce had said, you would decide to leave. The only worse thought was that he might let you go without finding the courage to say the words he’d been holding onto since he saw you on the beach. Maybe you’d slam the door in his face, but he couldn’t let you leave without trying.

Rafe grabbed your candy off the shelf and climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to knock on your bedroom door before he lost his nerve.

(Chapter 4)

a/n: I LOVED hearing all your Team Tom vs. Team Rafe opinions!! The competition is heating up!!!! (not my outline for this chapter starting with “note: google rules to beer pong” lol)

Ch 4 predictions? 👀

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

���But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii

if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

[becomingmina]

FUCKBOY MIN. little series w/ LEEKNOW

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: lee minho x female reader genre + warnings: previous fkbuddy relationship, angst, smut mdni!, min is mean, oral (f recieving), semi-public (empty bathroom), hyunjin is a character wc: 3.4k mina's note: Minho is kinda mean. The way I would have done anything for him just so he can like me back. ❤️‍🩹

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

series chapter ➵ part two, part three ending one

"Isn't that Y/N?" Han asked looking over the older boy's shoulder.

Minho turns his head around and sees you amongst the crowd - of the very grand party he dreads. He feels himself tense up at the sight of you, he hasn’t seen you in a while and you looked as beautiful as ever. He can feel the corner of his lip turn up as he replays memories of him and you, and that’s when he realises he misses you.

But the feeling soon fades when he notices you’re with a guy. Only a month and you already found yourself a guy? Loud sweet giggles falls from your lips as you grip the man's biceps, laughing about nothings. He scoffs to himself as he recognises the man.

“Out of all the boys in this fucking city, she chose fucking Hwang Hyunjin?” Minho blurted, he was mad. “She’s got a type. Fuckboys,” he turns back around to Han and raises his brows, as if asking for him to agree with the statement.

“You’re not going to do anything right hyung?” Han nervously asked, knowing his hyung will definitely be doing something.

“She just looks too happy, Han. I gotta ruin it for her. Especially when it’s Hwang Hyunjin she’s fucking with,” Minho says before downing the rest of his drink and ditching the younger boy.

Minho met you a couple months ago at one of his mother’s grand get-together. He only came to these events in hopes to find a hook up or a quick fuck, he was never here to support his mom on what ever event-job-work-promotion she got herself into. He probably got with half of the girls who attended these parties with their rich parents.

“Imagine what your daddy would think of his sweet innocent daughter completely coming vulnerable underneath some guy she just met?” Minho would often whisper in their ears as he thrusts into them. He would say anything to get them to sleep with him then ghost them the next day, leaving them restless.

However you weren’t like any of these girls to him, well at first. Minho was addicted to you, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he kept coming back to you. After seeing you a few times, he proposed for you both to be fwb and you agreed, because to be very honest, Minho was hot and he was a great fuck, the best if you can say. Also, something about him felt very secure to you. Meaningless fucks turned into lingering kisses, then turned into secrets date nights. You both shared such gentle and heartfelt moments, like cooking dinner together to holding hands randomly. Minho became so romantic with you secretly, but he never sincerely voiced it. You fell for him. You wanted to do anything for him in hopes that he liked you back. You became obsessive, got restless, jealous that there was many other girls hovering around him. You wanted him to yourself, and it got to the point where you had pull him away one night, letting your tears run down your face as you admitted your feelings to him, intoxicated. And maybe because he never dealt with such heavy feelings and high emotions like this before that, he turned on you.

“Y/N, you're just like the other girls.. Maybe worse. Easy. Clingy. I would never like you back.. Are you crazy?" You couldn't believe it, he abandoned you. Minho ended up treating you just like all the other girls.

Now the other half of the girls that Minho didn’t hooked up with were probably sorted by Hwang Hyunjin. The city’s heartbreaker. Classic story of two best friends that now hates each other. Minho and Hyunjin grew up together, basically brothers due to their mother’s close friendship. But when the boys got older they grew apart. Times that was supposed be spent together catching up on a tv show or playing basketball turned into time spent with a girl trying to get her to undress underneath them. It was now a competition to see who played the most girls. Oh how toxic.

So when Minho saw you in the ballroom with Hyunjin, he assumed you two were sleeping together. Minho needed to get you alone before the end of the night.

He needed to ruin you, in order to ruin it for Hyunjin aswell.

“Should I get you another drink?” The long haired boy asked realising the glass in your hand was almost empty.

“I was actually eyeing the orange slices over there-” you pointed out, gesturing to the massive grazing table.

“-Mimosa?” He was quick to respond, tone so sweet and cheeky.

“You know me too well Hyunjin,” you smiled admiringly up at the boy.

“I’ll get the champagne, you get the oranges and we meet back here then,” he says, hints of his dorky smile showing.

You were finally alone.

"Hey baby," Minho speaks from behind you, his voice so deep, hands find their way to your hips sending chills down your spine. He used to call you that all the time, and your heart never fails to beat out of your chest from it.

Lee Minho. Why the hell was he behind you? Shouldn’t he breaking some poor innocent girl’s heart?

“I missed you.” You stood still at his words, unable to move.

No not this again.

"Minho, go away," you finally spoke, building up a wall that you know isn’t going to stay up.

"No. I need to talk to you baby. I missed you," he made sure you heard him, his hands now made its way higher to your waist. "You look so pretty tonight..” one hand rests on your waist as the other one slowly travels to your thigh. “I missed your pretty little body so much, baby,” his lips were so close to your face, the proximity is so familiar, so safe that you wanted to turn and press your lips on his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Minho had you under his spell, his presence was all it took for you to consider him again. You lean back, head taking its place on his shoulder as your back pressed on his chest. You tilt your head up slowly, finally looking at him. Oh, he was so beautiful as ever. His cute little bunny teeth showing from his agape mouth, his pretty sparkly eyes looking down at you, and his sharp nose, which you remember you use to peck so much. You missed him so much, you couldn’t resist it anymore.

“Min.” You say in the most vulnerable tone ever, gripping his forearm, giving in to him. He smiles at the nickname, the nickname only you were allowed to call him by.

"Come with me," and with that he yanked your arm dragging you through the crowd, for sure going to leave Hyunjin confused when he comes back.

Minho pulled you into an empty bathroom and pressed you against the door after locking it, instantly smashing his lips on to yours. His lips feels so soft against yours and your body hasn’t felt this rush of adrenaline in a while that you were going insane. Already feeling yourself start to go wet, you were so bothered, you needed more. Your teeth clashes as he practically devours you, his hand hoists one of your leg over his hip.

“Need you on the counter, bunny,” he murmured in between the kisses, there goes the nicknames again. He carries you to the counter, helping you up, your legs immediately spreading for him to slot himself in between. His hand slips underneath your dress, brushing against your clothed core.

“Already so wet for me,” he smirks, feeling the patch on your panties. “Can I?” He asked tapping his finger twice on your core. You nodded throwing your head back and he accepts the invitation to suck on your neck, leaving marks. Minho’s fingers pulls your panties to the side, his pointer finger finally runs through your folds. You were so warm, so sticky already that Minho let out a moan into your neck, unable to control the pleasure he was also having. You jolted forward when his fingers finally entered you pumping you slowly, causing him to let out an airy scoff. “Need to taste, let me taste?” You nod again knowing every time Minho ate you out, he would reward you with his dick for being such a good girl. You wanted that again.

“Need to hear you say it, Y/N,” he stops his movements, to brush your hair out of your face adoring your features.

Verbal consent has always been a big thing to Minho. He has so much control when the other person expresses what they want. It feeds into his already massive ego seeing the other person submit to him, makes him feel like he was in winning. And right there and then when he asked that question he wanted you to submit, so he can feel bigger than Hyunjin.

“Yes, please Min. I want it,” you gave him exactly what he wanted. You missed this. You missed his body and how he fucked you, how he made love to you. You miss Minho. You miss how sweet and gentle he was. How he would text you if you got home okay after spending the entire day with him. How innocent and lovely he can be talking about his cats, his hobbies. You wanted him to like you back, to want you back that you were willing to let him do anything to you, to use you.

“You’re still so good baby,” he buttered you up pressing a kiss your lips once more, letting it linger on a bit before dropping to his knees. He bundles your thin long dress around your waist, pulling down your soaked panties and burying them deep in his pocket. He is met with your pretty pussy, glistening with arousal. Your scent takes him by surprise and he goes numb. Oh, how he remembers it all so well, he would spend forever in between your legs on a Sunday afternoon. He parts your thighs and moves his face closer to your cunt, finally sliding his tongue in your slit. You still taste as sweet as ever too and that was all it took for Minho to devour you, to eat you out like a starved man. You lean back on one hand and the other one finds its place in Minho’s hair keeping it there. He was so good with his tongue, alternating between giving fat stripes, kitten licks and harsh sucks on your clit. Minho was getting you closer to your orgasm. Moans and whimpers falls from your lips as you allow him to hear how good he is making you feel.

“Feels good baby? You still taste so sweet, I just know you’re still going to be so tight." he removes himself from you just so he can glance up at your fucked out state nodding to every word he was saying.

“Want to- to cum,” you needed to cum, you were on the verge of tears feeling the tension in your stomach start to fade..

“Hm?”

“Please, I want to cum Min,” you restates and he dives back down. He grips your thighs as he makes out with your pussy, his nose hitting your clit every now and then to get you going again. Minho picks up his pace, moving his kisses to your clit where he then sucks harshly earning a sharp moan from you. You jolt forward, thighs closing around him, throwing your head back as you spray Minho with your sweet release. You feel him smirk against your pussy, his mouth and chin coated in your arousal. That wasn’t enough for you, you wanted more. Your hand pushes his head further into your cunt as you grind down in his nose, riding out your high. Minho lets you use him, his tongue still overstimulating you until you were satisfied. Frankly, he found it hot how after just one taste you go feral for him.

He licks his lips cleaning himself off as he gets up from your legs, helping you pull down your dress. He cages you between his hands that are now resting on the counter, you don’t move. Just staring up at him, he examines your features again, taking all everything that he used to adore. Something about this moment just feels so innocent to both of you, that Minho can help but give you small giggles, his lips turning into a smile. You mirror it in return, sitting in silence as you both recalls the old times.

A sudden buzz of your phone causes you both to snap out of the sweet moment, heads turning to the device next to you on the counter. And Minho grows hot, his reputation overshadowed his feelings for you the second he saw Hyunjin’s name pop up. He lets out a scoff, remembering why he got you in this bathroom in the first place.

Minho's leans in slowly, one hand still gripping on the counter but the other comes up close to your face. Your phone forgotten now. You think he's about to kiss you but he dodges your lips, making his way by your ears as he lets out an airy chuckle, he sounded so cocky you were taken by surprise at his sudden change in demeanour.

"God, Y/N. You're still so easy," His tone deep aiming an attack on you as he reaches for the paper towel dispenser behind your head. He pulls out a towel throwing it to you, to clean yourself up. "Still so desperate for me". It broke you. He has never done this to you before, usually he'll be on after care and cleaning up. Your head snaps to his face, taking in his smirk and dark eyes. You swallow hard, a salty taste coat your tongue and you realise you're trying you best to not cry.

“Are you this desperate for Hyunjin too?” you furrowed your brows together in response. What?

“Hmm?” You asked confused.

“You got a type Y/N, you’re so pathetic.” He continues, the vibrating of your phone doesn't help but fuels his anger.

"Min, what do you mean?" It was clear to you that Minho and Hyunjin weren’t the best of friends when you meet with Minho. But that night when Minho abandoned you, Hyunjin witnessed the whole thing. He help you get up, covering you with his his coat, wiping away your tears and took you home.

"What are you doing here with Hwang Hyunjin?" he finally asked. But you don't respond, instead you hop off the counter, unable to control how hurt you are from his previous act. Your eyes sparkle, cheeks pink, lips trembling. He takes in your reaction, making him feel a bit guilty as he has seen this all before. The night you admitted your feelings.

"You guys fucking?" this time his tone and eyes soften, it was like he needed to confirm it first before continuing to take out his anger and tension on you. You reach for your phone but he snatches before you could, declining the call sliding it across the counter where you can’t reach.

"Does he fuck you as good as I do?" He moves in closer, your noses barely touching. "He treats you better than I do?" You stay quiet.

You didn't know what to answer. Do you lie? Do you teel the truth? Regardless at the end of this Minho isn't coming back to you right? You realised the moment he called you pathetic.

He moves in to kiss your cheek, a gentle peck. Your heart starts to race even more, unable to look him in the eyes. One hand comes up to hold your face, thumb rubbing against your cheeks. "Come on baby, tell me and I'll give you what you want," his lips comes in contact with yours. You melt into the kiss, your hands grasping the waist band of his trousers. Snap out of it, Y/N. "Hmm, you going to be good and tell me? He kisses you better than I do?" He kisses you harder, helping you back up the counter. He takes back his initial position, in-between your legs. Minho moves his kisses down your neck as his hands advances to your shoulders, pulling the thin straps down exposing your chest. He gulps at the sight and latching his lips onto your boob, his hand groping the other one. You tired your hardest not to give in but you cant, the feeling is too strong. You whimper at the contact, your hand palming his hard on through his pants. It was the first time you touched him that night and Minho throws his head back, unable to control the sexual frustration.

"Fuck- see what you do to me, baby?" He coos. You undo his belt, pulling his trousers along with his boxer down, meeting with his big cock. He was already so red, a bead of pre cum already spilling frim his tip. You grab the base of his cock, holding it firmly giving him a gentle pump. Just like the way you always did. Fuck Y/N I missed this so much. Minho finds himself addicted again as he shuts his eyes, a little moan slipping from his lip. You continue to pump him and he tries his best not to give into you but your hands felt so good, he could cum like this. You lean forward attaching your lips to his neck, leaving marks just like he did to you before. “Want you Min,” you whimper on his skin. You needed to feel him inside you.

"Answer me first, Y/N." He was getting irritated at your lack of answer. God, why are you so caught up on this Minho! Your phone rings again, the buzzing noises incites his thought, and that was the breaking point for him. Hwang Hyunjin. Only Y/N would want such a pathetic man like him. "I'm not fucking you if you’re dirty Y/N," he says and you halt your movements, completely removed yourself from him.

"What?" You replied. Minho is now faced with your confused face.

"You're so desperate Y/N. I can’t believe you’re with Hyunjin right after I left you? You're so dirty for that,” Minho repeat himself moving closer to you to provoke you, he was sure you had given yourself to the other bloke. Your lack of answer confirmed it for him too. “Did you fuck Hyunjin?" But he was determined to hear it.

You took a deep sigh, and all the names and remarks he had made to you tonight flooded your head. You’re hurt. God, Y/N you are pathetic. You wanted to turn this on him but you couldn’t. Regardless of what you answer, you couldn’t win and Minho won’t be yours.

"No I didn't because I love you, Min," you confessed, pushing him off you. You proceed to pull up your dress and jump off the counter. You needed to leave him.

You brushed past him retrieving your phone and bag, unlocking the door and walking out.

Leaving him the way he left you, abandoned. Although it was your feelings that he disregarded, leaving him while he was hard and sexually unsatisfied like this would have hurt the same for a fuck boy like him.

But Minho wasn’t hurt by that. Your words was the thing that stung him. Shes loves me? No one had ever done this to Minho, he didn't know what to do. Such a similar feeling to how you felt - when he ghosted you and just now.

His words still played in your mind, they're still lingering around you. You wanted to sob, cry your heart out but you couldn't just yet, only allowing the tears to build in your eyes. Did you really just let him treat you like that? You chose pleasure again instead of protecting your already broken heart. Minho was right, you are fucking easy. You see the exit through your blurry vision and you rushed to it, pushing into the many people that was just crowding around. Just as you're about to leave a hand pulls you back.

"Y/n, you okay?" You turned around to meet with Hyunjin, and you couldn't help but burry your face in his chest as you let your tears fall.

"I hate him," you cried loudly, your whole body shaking and your legs go numb. Hyunjin hugs you, both arms wrapped around you tightly as he lets you become completely vulnerable. You were safe with him.

"I know.. Let's go home."

[latin5mamii]

Angel - Jude Bellingham

warnings: long chapter (1829 words)

genre: childhood best friends to lovers

summary:How could you know that a stupid nickname could change everything?

author's note: I know you've been waiting for this, and I'm so excited to finally share the latest chapter with you! I truly hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And yes, I might have left you hanging a bit, but trust me it’ll be worth it😌. I’m already planning to write the next chapter tonight. Plus I’d love to hear your thoughts—if you have any ideas or twists you think could make the story even more exciting, feel free to share them! last chapter

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“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

There he was, leaning against the door frame, looking effortlessly handsome as always. His presence seemed even more magnetic after the words he’d left you with the night before, words that had kept you awake, replaying over and over in your mind.

"We’ll have plenty of nights together, don’t worry."

You hadn’t slept much, but who could blame you? Thoughts of Madrid, of Jude, and of how drastically everything was about to change had swirled in your head all night. But now, with him standing there, his familiar grin melting away your worries, it all seemed to make sense.

“Good morning,” you mumbled back, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you sat up. Jude crossed the room in a few quick strides and wrapped you in a hug, his embrace warm and reassuring, as if promising that everything would be okay.

“This feels weird,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper against his chest.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. “Weird? Why’s that?”

You shrugged, still struggling to put your feelings into words. “I don’t know… it’s just… surreal. Like this is all a dream or something.”

He smiled, that boyish, disarming smile you’d known since forever—the one that always made you feel safe, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as he was around. “I get it. But hey, you’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You chuckled, the tension that had been knotted in your shoulders slowly melting away. You held onto him a moment longer, savoring the comfort of being close to him, before finally letting go.

Jude, always the playful one, grabbed your suitcase with a grin and started heading towards the door. “Come on, let’s get moving before you change your mind,” he teased.

As you watched him, it hit you just how surreal this all was. You’d never imagined that you’d be moving to Madrid with your childhood best friend, the same boy you used to chase around the playground, the same boy whose grandma used to joke you’d end up marrying one day. You’d laughed it off back then, never believing it could really happen.

But now, here you were. You thought back to when he first started getting famous, when he left for Dortmund, then Real Madrid, and how much you’d missed him. The messages, the late-night FaceTime calls, the way you both tried so hard to stay in touch despite the distance.

But now, one question lingers in your mind.

You're literally going to Madrid with your childhood best friend for who knows how long, the same one you made out with once after sharing a bed, and who constantly flirts with you.

You didn’t want to ask him that question because, well, he’s famous and has other things to think about. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way,” his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He knew how much you loved surprises.

“What is it?” you ask, a playful smile on your face.

“Wait and see.”

As soon as you arrive at the airport, the car takes a different turn from the usual route, stopping in front of a smaller yet equally impressive plane. Now you understand what the surprise was. And you felt a little silly for not realizing it sooner: Why would someone so famous take a commercial flight when they could afford a private jet?

As you stepped out of the car, your eyes still wide with surprise at the sight of the private jet in front of you, Jude chuckled and took your hand in his, leading you toward the sleek aircraft. His touch was warm and familiar, like it had always been since you were kids. But now, with everything that had changed, the fame, the move to Madrid, the endless possibilities ahead,his hand in yours felt different..

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised by this,” he teased, his grin contagious as you reached the steps of the plane.

“I mean, I should’ve seen it coming, but come on, Jude,” you said, giving him a playful shove. “A private jet? Really?”

He shrugged, still holding your hand as you both boarded. “Gotta travel in style now, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. 

The interior of the jet was even more luxurious than you’d imagined. Soft leather seats, a spacious layout, and every inch of it screaming luxury. Jude plopped down onto one of the oversized seats, pulling you down beside him before you could even take it all in.

“Get comfy, we’ve got a few hours ahead of us,” he said, stretching out as if the whole plane was just his personal living room.

You never thought you'd experience this. You remember when in the past Jude and Jobe used to fight a lot, and you just brought peace to them, that’s one of the main reasons their mom loved you.And that feels like yesterday and now everything changed.

As you sank into the soft leather seat beside Jude, you couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, the weight of it all finally starting to sink in. Jude turned to look at you, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“What’s funny?” he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You shook your head, still caught up in the whirlwind of memories. “Just thinking about how different everything is now. I mean, you used to fight with Jobe all the time, and I’d always have to step in and keep the peace. Now you're taking me to Madrid on a private jet.”

Jude chuckled, leaning back in his seat with a lazy grin. “Yeah, well, you were good at keeping us in line. Still are, actually.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Come on, Jude, don’t start.”

“Still,” he said, nudging you playfully, “you’re younger, and I’m always going to be the one looking out for you. That’s just how it is.”

You huffed, pretending to be exasperated. “Four months, Jude. Four.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied with a smirk. “Still the older one, and I’m still going to protect you.”Jude gave you a smug smile, leaning back in his seat.

You rolled your eyes, smirking as you fired back, “From who? Jobe?”

Jude chuckled, nodding as if he were genuinely considering it. “Yeah, he can be pretty evil sometimes.”

You shook your head, laughing at the thought. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head with a smile. His playful banter, the way he could always make you feel at ease, was exactly what you needed.

But there was something else you’d been thinking about—something you weren’t sure you should say. The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“When you were in Madrid,” you started, your voice a bit more hesitant than you intended, “I used to check the news about you. You know, just to see what was going on.”

Jude turned his head toward you, intrigued. “Oh, yeah? Keeping tabs on me?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faded as you continued. “Well, yeah… but not just for fun. There were times when I’d come across people calling you arrogant, or childish, and it kind of freaked me out.”

Jude blinked in surprise, his playful expression faltering for a second. “Freaked you out? Why?”

You hesitated again, not wanting to sound dramatic. “Because… I didn’t know if you’d changed. I mean, all those articles and posts made you sound like someone I didn’t recognize. And I guess I was scared to see you again, scared you wouldn’t be… you.”

There was a pause as Jude processed what you said, and you felt your heart thudding in your chest, waiting for his response. But instead of going serious, like you expected, he grinned—full-on, mischievous Jude.

“Oh, so you thought I’d turn into some big-headed superstar, huh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “What, did you think I was going to show up wearing sunglasses indoors and demand people call me ‘Mr. Bellingham’?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, your worries easing as his joke broke the tension. “No! But—”

Jude leaned in, his grin widening. “Or maybe you were scared I’d start talking about myself in the third person. ‘Jude Bellingham doesn’t wait in line.’ ‘Jude Bellingham only flies private.’”

You shook your head, laughing even harder now. “Stop! That’s not what I meant!”

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with mock arrogance. “You know what? Maybe I should start doing that. Sounds kind of fun.”

“Oh, please,” you said, playfully swatting his arm. “You’d be unbearable.”

Jude laughed, the warmth in his voice settling your nerves. “Nah, I get it. People love to talk. But you should’ve known better.I’m still me. Just with a bit more style and better hair.”

“Better hair, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s debatable.”

He reached up, running a hand through his hair with exaggerated pride. “Debatable? This is prime hair right here. You’re just jealous.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the lightness in your chest was undeniable now. The Jude sitting next to you wasn’t the arrogant football star the tabloids sometimes made him out to be. He was still the same guy who used to annoy you with dumb jokes and competitive childish games, and still, the same guy who made you feel safe and at home.

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Jude's house was incredible, a dream come true. He had told you about it before, but you never imagined it would be like this. You felt an overwhelming excitement, knowing you were experiencing something that millions of people could only dream of.

"Like it?" he asked, as he unloaded the suitcases from the car.

 You were surprised because you thought someone else would do it for him, but it seemed he was doing it himself just to spend as much time with you as possible. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, just as they always did whenever he was near.

You nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah, I mean… it’s unreal, Jude.”

He flashed that familiar boyish smile, the one that made your stomach do flips. “Wait ‘til you see inside.”

And he was right. The inside was even more stunning than you imagined—high ceilings, sleek furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a breathtaking view of the city below. You followed Jude through the living room, your eyes wide as you took it all in.

“I feel like I’m in a magazine or something,” you said, spinning in a slow circle to take everything in.

Jude chuckled as he dropped your bags at the base of the stairs. “Well, I did say I had more style now, didn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you that one.”

He came up behind you, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his touch. “Hey,” he said softly, his tone a bit more serious now. “Do you want to go grab dinner? I know it’s been a long day, and there’s a place nearby I think you’d love.”

You glanced up at him, surprised but touched by the gesture. “Dinner? Right now?”

He nodded, his eyes soft and inviting. “Yeah. Just you and me. What do you say?”

You didn’t have to think twice. “Sure, sounds perfect.”

A smile broke across his face. “Great. Give me ten minutes, and we’ll head out.”

True to his word, Jude was ready quickly, and soon, you were heading out together.. The restaurant he’d chosen was chic but not overly formal, nestled in a quiet part of the city.

 As you both sat down at a cozy table near the window, the ambiance was perfect: low lighting, soft music, and just enough privacy for you to feel like it was your own little world.

Jude ordered a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for each of you.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a teasing smile, “on a scale of one to ten, how jealous do you think Jobe is knowing that you’re with me now?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, he’ll surely give it back to me in a while”

Jude’s grin widened. “Yeah, well, too bad for him. You’re all mine now.”

The way he said it sent a flutter through your chest, and you couldn’t help but blush. He noticed, of course, and leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering just enough to make your heart race.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now,” he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I’m not shy” you protested, trying to hide your smile as you took a sip of your wine.

“Right,” Jude said, leaning even closer across the table. “You’ve never been shy a day in your life.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “You’re annoying”

You weren’t sure who made the first move. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you, or maybe it was both of you leaning into the inevitable. But suddenly, his hand was brushing lightly against your arm, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down to your wrist. It wasn’t much, just a simple touch, but it felt like everything.

His gaze dipped to your lips, and your heart raced in your chest as he took another sip from that glass. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and rough, barely above a whisper.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, his breath ghosting over your skin.

You blinked, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. “Think about what?”

He swallowed, as if debating whether to say it out loud, and then, in a voice barely audible, he said, “When we kissed.”

Your breath caught in your throat, memories of that kiss rushing back to you—the way it had felt so easy and so right, yet so confusing at the same time. You haven’t talked about that since it happened, maybe it was time

“Jude…” you started, but your voice faltered.

He didn’t let you finish. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You shyly smiled, breaking eye contact and looking down, feeling the warmth of his words flush through you. Without knowing how to respond, you took another sip of your wine.

Jude noticed your reaction, letting out a soft chuckle. Leaning in close, his breath tickling your ear as he had to reveal a secret, he murmured,

“We should talk about this at home, shouldn’t we, Angel?”

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[vendetta-if]

Chapter 7 + Ash Hangout Public Update is now live! 🎉

The Chapter 7 and Ash Hangout update is finally here 🔥😁 I'm sorry for the slight delay, I had something urgent to attend to today and I just got home and I just basically went straight to my computer to upload this update.

Finally, we are starting to get into the ROs' first hangout sessions. Of course, to start us off, we'll have Ash's hangout session 😁This update adds around 31K of new words, bringing the total word count so far to around 356,701K words!

Anyway, this update also brings quite a lot of changes in the coding, especially for the skip chapter function, so I'm going to strongly suggest you guys play with clean save, either from the beginning or using the skip chapter function.

I have recently added another skip-chapter checkpoint, which is Chapter 3 in addition to the already existing one on Chapter 6. There is also now an autosave function at the beginning of every chapter starting on Chapter 2, so you'll be able to replay any chapter you're currently reading and try out different options in that chapter.

Anyway, enough of the technicalities.

Here's what you can expect in this update:

The set up to the ROs'  first hangout sessions

Ash's first hangout session

Go down the memory lane and see snippets of MC's most cherished memories.

Some more Viktor 😔

A mix of angst, wholesome, and even potential fluff 🤭

🔥🧡😉

Ash/Rin poly route is not yet ready for this hangout and it's still work-in-progress 🙏

New stuff added to previous chapters:

Added autosave/reload function for Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, and Chapter 5.

Added another skip-chapter point to Chapter 3, in addition to the already existing Chapter 6.

Also, little news that I'm going to make a post of tomorrow, I'm about to open both the Side Story and Spicy Side Story ideas and suggestions for this month on both Patreon and Ko-Fi, so if you're interested in supporting me while also getting some exclusive stuff, please do consider checking out my pages and subscribing 💖

I hope you guys enjoy the update! Oh, and also, feel free to send asks about the new update, but I'll probably hold off on answering them until a few days have passed to make sure a lot of readers already have the chance to check out the update and not accidentally spoil them 😊

[DEMO] | [PATREON] | [KO-FI] | [DISCORD] | [COG FORUM]

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part Two

Pairings: College!Hockey Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Drinking

A/N: I KNOW the poll said yall wanted the next part to Invisible first but i already had this edited! The next part of invisible will be posted in a couple hours 🫶🏻 i just need to edit it! We about to angsttyyy dick head bucky sooon, so enjoy the bliss of this filler chapter and sweet bucky NEXT chapter before hes a prick lol

------

Once in the quiet of your dorm, you pull out your phone and text Steve, letting him know you made it back safely. But as you sit on the edge of your bed, Bucky’s words echo in your mind, his touch lingering like a warm memory.

You open the door to your dorm as quietly as you can, hoping not to wake Wanda, your roommate and one of the few girls on campus who’s genuinely kind to you. But when you slip inside, you see her sitting at her desk, textbooks open and highlighter in hand, a soft smile spreading across her face as she spots you.

“I don’t know whether to say you’re home early or late,” she teases, glancing at the clock and then back at you. Then her eyes zero in on the jacket draped over your arm, and her eyebrows raise. “Is that his jacket?”

You shrug, trying to act casual. “He was just walking me home.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, setting down her highlighter with a grin. “Please. You two are playing one of the most drawn-out games of cat and mouse I’ve ever seen.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “For somebody who can body-check a grown man into a sideboard, I don’t know why he’s so nervous to go after you.”

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks and set the jacket on your desk, avoiding her gaze. “Maybe he’s just…embarrassed.”

Wanda lets out a little laugh and lightly slaps her arms in exasperation. “He is definitely not embarrassed. You’re one of the most beautiful girls on campus, you know.”

“Stop it, Wanda,” you mumble, trying to hide your smile as your cheeks heat up even more. “You’re making me blush.”

She laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Fine, fine. But I’m serious.” She stretches, rubbing her eyes. “Anyway, I have to get back to studying. If the light bothers you, just throw a pillow at me or something.”

“Don’t worry,” you reply, stifling a yawn as you settle into bed. “I can sleep through anything.”

Wanda grins, putting on her headphones and returning to her notes. You close your eyes, snuggling under the covers, and let out a sigh, replaying the events of the night in your mind. Bucky’s words, his touch, and the warmth of his jacket linger, making it hard to keep the giddy smile off your face.

Just as you’re drifting off, your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You reach for it, and your heart does a little flip when you see Bucky’s name on the screen. His text is simple, but it’s enough to make your night: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

With a smile, you type back: You’re a hopeless flirt, Barnes. Then you set your phone down with a soft sigh. Wrapped in his jacket’s comforting scent, you fall asleep, already looking forward to whatever tomorrow—and that party—might bring.

The next morning, your alarm jolts you awake at 10:00 a.m., and you groan, fumbling to turn it off. Blinking against the light, you see a handful of notifications: three texts from Steve, one from Wanda, and one from Bucky. Starting with Steve’s, you open it and grin at his messages:

S: Hey sleepyhead, how is it I’m the one up late and you’re still in bed?

S: We have brunch plans!!! Don’t stand up the captain of your undefeated hockey team ;)

S: Alright, Bee, I’ll be at Rosie’s at 11:00 a.m. sharp. If you’re late, you’re buying.

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, Bee. A nickname that only Steve called you because every time you would drink you would brag to the world, or anyone that would listen that you've gone your whole life without being stung by a bee and that was your superpower mainly it was because you would run for the hills if you even heard a buzz, nothing scared you more than the unknown pain of a bee sting. You texted back: Im up, Im up....and starving, can't wait to be ON TIME and order the whole menu, since its your turn to pay <3

Next, you open Wanda’s text:

Wanda: You snore a lot… and I think you may sleep-talk, too. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul… especially Bucky ;)

You groan, shaking your head, not even sure what you might’ve said in your sleep, but with Bucky on your mind last night, you wouldn’t put it past yourself. Finally, you open Bucky’s text, and your heart skips a beat at his reply from last night: Hopeless for you

The words sink in, leaving a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest that you try to brush off as you get ready.

When you arrive at Rosie’s Café, Steve is already at a booth by the window, grinning as he watches you through the glass. He dramatically waves, like he’s greeting some long-lost friend, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you slide into the booth across from him.

“Five minutes late,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I was betting on ten.”

You stick your tongue out at him, snagging the coffee cup he’s already ordered for you. “Please, I’m practically early.”

Steve snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever you say, Bee.”

“So,” Steve says, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “I heard from a reliable source that Buck walked you home last night. Left Tiffany all high and dry.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “We were just walking home. Bucky was being… Bucky.”

“Right,” Steve says, drawing out the word with a smirk. “Because ‘just walking home’ means wearing his jacket, right?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “It’s not like that. Honestly, it’s just harmless flirting. Bucky and I—we’re friends, because of you i might add...that’s all.” you shrug

Steve’s expression softens, his teasing fading. “Bee, it’s never just ‘nothing’ with you. Look, I’m only saying this because I’m looking out for you. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He pauses, taking a sip of his coffee before adding, “Bucky’s a great guy. But he… he’s got a way of being uncertain. He doesn’t always know what he wants.”

His words settle heavily in your chest, and for a second, you feel your heart dip. But you push away any sign of that, meeting his gaze with a smile. “It’s fine, Stevie. I’m a big girl. I know how to take care of myself.”

He sighs, nodding, though he doesn’t seem fully convinced. “I know you do. Just… remember, i've always got your back, alright? No matter what.”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know. Thanks, Steve.” And as he smiles, you can’t help but feel a little more grounded, even as the thought of Bucky lingers in the back of your mind, stirring a mess of hope and caution.

Just as you’re about to respond, the server arrives with plates of food, sliding them onto the table with a cheerful “Enjoy!” You raise an eyebrow at Steve as he grins, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

“Of course you already ordered for me,” you say, picking up your fork. “Couldn’t resist, huh?”

Steve shrugs, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. “I know you too well, Bee,” he says through a mouthful, barely managing not to laugh.

You lean back, giving him a playful side-eye. “Alright, so who’s this ‘reliable source’ that’s apparently got all the gossip on my night?”

Steve smirks, pausing just long enough for dramatic effect. “From the man himself.”

You blink, surprised. “Bucky told you he walked me home?”

“Yup,” he replies, scrolling through his phone before holding it up so you can see the text. “Got a message from him last night saying he made sure you got back safe and sound or whatever. Real gentleman, right?”

You glance at the screen, reading the short message from Bucky: Walked her home. All safe and sound.

You look back at Steve, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. “Well, that was nice of him. Good to know he’s updating the Captain on his whereabouts.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile in them. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not a little flattered. He doesn’t do this for just anyone.”

You laugh, stabbing a piece of pancake with your fork to cover up your blush. “He’s just looking out for me. Like you said, he’s a good guy.”

Steve just shakes his head knowingly. “Keep telling yourself that, Bee.”

You shift the conversation quickly, hoping to steer attention away from you and Bucky. “Anyway, how’s Natasha?”

Steve raises an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Since when?”

Steve’s cheeks turn a little red, but before he can respond, a couple of college guys pass by the table, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Hey, Rogers! Great game last night, man. You killed it!”

Steve flashes them a grin. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

As they walk off, he turns back to you, clearing his throat and regaining his composure. “Well…maybe this time feels different,” he admits, a bit shyly. “I really like her. I’m actually thinking of asking her out on a real date.”

You break into a smile. “Congratulations, Stevie. I’m happy for you. She seems like a great girl.”

He gives you a hopeful look. “So you approve?”

Laughing, you shake your head. “I don’t have to approve anyone you want to be with, Steve.”

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his voice soft but sincere. “You’re my best friend. Your opinion matters to me.”

You soften, feeling a pang of affection for him. “Of course I approve. She’s beautiful, confident, and she’s a genuinely nice person.”

Steve’s face lights up. “I think you two would actually be great friends. You and Natasha? I can totally see it.”

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at his happiness. “I think so too.”

As brunch winds down, Steve leans back, watching you with a small smile. “So… ready for the party tonight? I hear everyone’s going to be there, even Bucky’s going all out.”

You try to play it cool, shrugging. “Yeah, should be fun. I mean, it’s not every day the undefeated hockey team throws a party.”

Steve chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, well, Bucky might have mentioned a few times how he’s hoping to see you there.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you try to play it off with a casual smile. “Well, I’ll make sure to look my best then.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Don’t worry too much, Bee. Pretty sure you already do... Are you gonna wear that?" He gestures to Bucky varsity jacket folded beside you nicely

You sigh, glancing down at Bucky’s jacket folded neatly beside you. “Probably not. But I’ll bring it to give it back to him.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Give it back? Why? Looks good on you.”

You shake your head, laughing a little. “Come on, Stevie. I can’t just show up wearing something like this—that would make it seem like we’re… you know, together.” You can’t help but feel a pang of regret as you say it, but you push it down. “And we’re absolutely not together.”

Steve gives you a look, one of those perceptive, big-brother looks that only he can pull off. “You sure that’s all there is to it? Maybe he likes seeing you in it.”

You roll your eyes, shrugging to hide your own uncertainty. “I just want to give it back. It’s his jacket.”

Steve snorts, folding his arms. “Right. Well, if you change your mind, don’t overthink it. You never know—maybe he’d like seeing you show up wearing it.”

You give him a playful shove. “I think I’ll survive without making a grand entrance in his jacket, thanks.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Suit yourself, Bee. Just know I’ll be watching out for you, especially if Bucky tries anything you dont want him to tonight.”

You grin, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’d expect nothing less from the captain himself.”

Steve stands, throwing a few bills on the table for the check. “So, I’ll pick you up at eight, yeah?” he says casually, grabbing his jacket. “Just gotta swing by Natasha’s place off-campus first and pick her up—if that’s cool with you.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course. I’ll be ready. And hey, don’t keep her waiting too long,” you tease, nudging him.

Steve’s cheeks flush, but he grins back. “Don’t worry. I’d never hear the end of it if I did.”

As you head for the door together, he pauses, giving you one last look, his expression softening. “You sure you’re all good for tonight? No nerves?”

You wave him off, rolling your eyes. “I’m fine, Stevie. It’s just a party. And I’ll have you and Nat there, so what’s there to worry about?”

He chuckles, pulling you into a quick hug. “Alright, alright. Just checking. See you at eight, Bee.”

You wave as he heads off, and you can’t help but feel the familiar flutters of excitement—and maybe a hint of nerves. Tonight’s party feels a little different, like there’s something more hanging in the air.

With a deep breath, you pick up Bucky’s jacket from the booth and walk out, wondering if you’ll actually find the nerve to wear it tonight after all. You tell yourself it’s just a jacket, but a part of you wonders if wearing it tonight would mean something more, even if it’s just between you and Bucky.

---

As you finish getting ready, you smooth down the little black dress that hugs you in all the right places, still debating the jacket. It’s hanging off the edge of your bed, and every time you look at it, your heart flutters. You know what wearing it could imply.

Just as you let out a sigh, your phone pings twice. The first message is from Steve: I’m five minutes away.

You quickly tap out a response, letting him know you’re ready. But then you notice the second message from Bucky. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen, heart pounding. When you finally open it, the message is short, but it’s enough to make you grin--

BB: You better be wearing my coat… see u soon, doll.

A smile tugs at your lips as you grab the jacket, pulling it on. Somehow, it feels like a shield, giving you a rush of confidence. Right on time, your phone lights up again with a message from Steve saying he’s outside.

You hurry downstairs, and Steve’s already out of the car, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is. As you slide into the back seat, Natasha looks over her shoulder, letting out a low whistle.

“Wow, you look hot,” she says with a grin, nudging Steve. “Doesn’t she look hot?”

You laugh as Steve’s cheeks turn pink. “I… I mean, I can’t… I don’t… I can’t say that about her.”

Natasha rolls her eyes with a laugh, and Steve clears his throat, finally managing, “You look very pretty.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you say with a smile, adjusting Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders.

He eyes it with a smirk. “So, I see you decided to wear the jacket, huh?”

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “Well, I’ve gotta give it back to him eventually. And it’s a little chilly, so… win-win.”

Steve gives you a knowing look through the rearview mirror. “Mhm. Sure.”

Natasha stifles a laugh, clearly amused as Steve starts the car, pulling away. You settle back into the seat, your heart racing a little faster with each passing minute as you all head toward the party.

The party is already in full swing when the three of you step inside, music thumping and lights casting a hazy glow over the packed room. Steve has his arm slung around Natasha’s waist, his face beaming as people shout greetings his way, clapping him on the back. The undefeated hockey team’s star has arrived, and he fits right in, like he was born for this spotlight.

You follow closely, but it doesn’t take long to feel a bit adrift, like you’re walking in his shadow. Steve keeps glancing back, making sure you’re close, but you hate that he feels the need to check on you. It’s supposed to be his night, his chance to relax and enjoy himself, not to worry about you.

You start to feel the weight of the jacket on your shoulders, like it’s putting a target on your back. Bucky’s name stitched across it draws eyes in every direction—curious, judgmental, some downright hostile. You catch a couple of girls whispering and shooting you cold, jealous stares. A pang of anxiety twists in your stomach as you force yourself to look away, hoping your face doesn’t betray the flush of self-consciousness rising in you.

Suddenly, it’s too much, and you reach forward, grabbing Steve’s arm. He turns, looking concerned, and you lean in, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink and hit the bathroom,” you say, offering a quick smile to reassure him.

Natasha, noticing the exchange, leans closer. “Want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to sound confident. “No, you two go have fun. I’ll find you in a bit.”

Steve searches your face, worry lingering in his eyes. “You sure?”

“Of course,” you insist, giving him a playful nudge. “I’m a big girl, Stevie. Go, enjoy yourself!"

He nods, squeezing your shoulder before turning back to Natasha, who’s already pulling him further into the crowd. You watch them disappear, his arm still draped protectively around her, and as they blend into the sea of people, you feel a hollowness settle in your chest.

Alone now, you wrap Bucky’s jacket tighter around yourself, but it’s no longer a comforting weight; instead, it feels heavy, like armor you don’t feel quite strong enough to wear. The flashes of familiar faces and snippets of conversation around you only deepen your sense of isolation. You feel small, like a forgotten piece of someone else’s story, swallowed by the loud music, the swirling lights, and the press of bodies.

[anemoelliacia]

the five times neuvillette knew he loved you

warnings: minor 4.2 spoilers, female reader, major fluff minus a sad neuvi who needs comforting in one part

▶ i recommend listening to the song till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas while reading this chapter <3

The first instance was when he saw you making a routine out of regularly interacting amongst the Melusine with nothing but care, practically treating them like your own children. The Melusine are virtually your favorite people in Fontaine, besides him of course. You’re always sure to greet them, never messing up their pronouns, and giving them presents on their birthdays. It is also a common occurrence for you to give them handmade lunches. The first time Neuvillette saw you in the Palais Mermonia, giving Sedene a handmade lunch his heart swelled with affection for you, the sweetest person he has ever had the privilege of meeting. He watched you in admiration, speculating that this feeling in his chest must be love developing for you. 

Secondly, is how you taste water with him despite how silly everyone thinks it is. You never fail to cooperate with tasting different waters, assuring him that you can in fact taste the difference, even going so far as to pick a favorite to make him happy by participating in his hobby. You even created a hierarchy ranking system just to rank which waters you like, and which you don’t. Neuvillette loves when you engage in the hobby of water tasting with him, and he thinks he’d wouldn’t rather share this with anyone else but you, because no one else is more worthy of drinking the more expensive speciality bottled waters he has. He thinks, “Maybe I love her and that is why I wish so much to share my hobby with her?”

Thirdly, was the first time you bid him goodbye when he left for work in the morning. He had spent the night at your house for the first time as well, and waking up to you the next morning was almost the sweetest part of everything that happened. You practically begged him to stay for the day, to blow off work- even though you know he really can’t. He could not help but giggle over how clingy you are in the morning, after you’ve just woken up. This already had warm feelings stirring within him, but then… when he was about to head for the door, that is what had his heart wanting to burst out of his chest. You stopped him before he walked out, kissing him on the cheek and fixing his crooked collar. The moment was so sweet and domestic. He felt heat rising on his cheeks as you walked him out the door telling him that you’d bring him lunch later. As he walked the rest of the way to the Palais Mermonia, his thoughts were only filled with you, replaying that moment in his head and thinking, “is this what love truly feels like?”

Fourthly, was when Charlotte asked him about you during an interview. Charlotte finally got that interview she wanted with Neuvillette, and she just had to get the hottest scoop on him. She asked him many work related related questions, but she couldn't not ask him about you after she saw the two of you together- she needs a good story! She asked him, “So, Monsieur Neuvillette, I saw you at the cafe with a woman a few days ago, care to tell me who that was?” and Neuvillette’s face immediately lights up at the mention of you, he goes, “oh, that is my beloved…” He practically goes on a rant saying sweet things about you, but he catches what he is doing and cuts himself off with a clearing of his throat as his face starts to go pink. Charlotte is standing there smiling at him widely and she says to him, “You sure seem to like her a lot don’t you?” Neuvillette does not hesitate to answer, “yes, I think it is safe to say I like her a lot, perhaps I am even growing to love her…” knowing it will be the top story in the Steambird newspaper within a few days that Fontaine’s one and only chief justice has found a lover. 

The fifth and final instance was the first time you comforted him after a hard trial. Since the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale is no longer working due to recent events, he has taken charge of deciding people's verdicts on his own. Which, as you can imagine, is a draining task- especially when a criminal’s charges are of a sensitive matter. One day, after a particularly hard case, that hurt him to have to sentence the person as guilty… all he wanted was to be in your company. He showed up at your doorstep in the pouring rain, his clothes soaked completely through. Of course, you immediately rushed him inside and gave him a change of clothing. While he was changing, you threw a pot of tea on the stove for him- and he couldn’t be more thankful for you. He quietly drank his tea in your company to warm up after being chilled to the bone from rain soaked clothing, and you stayed with him not forcing him to talk about what was wrong until he was ready. When he was ready to talk, he tugged you along to your bed to cuddle with you. For once, you held him as he spilled his hardships from the day, the rain outside never letting up; however, he quickly settled into the comfort you gave him, growing to feel at ease- and that is when he knew. He loves you, with every fiber of his being. So, he finally says, “I love you with all my heart.” and all you can do is reply that you feel the same, holding him tighter.

▶ if you liked this, then check out the other parts linked in my masterlist :) every genshin man i write for is getting their own part.

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Some big revelations coming on this one, buckle up. Daemon and Alicent are good parents in my book, okay? Okay. ;)

Word count: 4,6k

Masterlist | Previous chapter

The perfume of wildflowers overwhelmed your senses, they bloomed in several colors around you; white, pink, blue, yellow—a field of untouched beauty, tucked away on the outskirts of the forests that surrounded King's Landing.

You sat in the middle of the field, soaking up the late afternoon sunlight as you gently plucked a few of the flowers to form a unique bouquet. It was only your third day in the capital and you already felt the need to sneak away and breathe some fresh air.

A loud huff of air came from beside you then, and a chuckle escaped you when you looked at your dragon. She lay peacefully just a few feet away from you, her ash blue scales being caressed by flower petals as the wind made them flow; one, in particular, tickling her nose and making her huff without opening her eyes. Her massive frame dwarfed the trees of the forest behind you and her tail disrupted the few bugs hidden between the grass as it swished from time to time.

The small smile you had slowly vanished, however, once your mind drifted back to thoughts of Aemond, for the umpteenth time today. Your talk with him from last night replayed in your mind over and over, while you were trying to sleep and first thing in the morning. It had felt wrong and unfair, and it left a cold feeling inside your chest. And yet a feeling that you thought—hoped—you saw mirrored in Aemond's own expression last night.

It was a fragile thing, but maybe, just maybe, what you once had could still be repaired.

Even from this far away, the Red Keep could still be easily spotted in the distance. You watched as a flock of birds flew by, as nothing but dark silhouettes against the golden sunlight.

You eventually pushed yourself up from the grass, brushing away any remaining dirt from your clothes. You walked up to your dragon, laying a hand on the warm scales of her muzzle.

Her fiery blue eyes lazily blinked open at your touch, and she leaned the slightest bit into your hand. "Istiti kostilus bartos arlī, riña." ('We should probably head back, girl.')

A low and deep groan came from the back of her throat, her large mouth prying open just enough to reveal a glimpse of her sharp teeth in complaint. Yet she slowly raised her head from the ground, the motion of her tall and heavy frame sending hidden fireflies flying away from between the flowers.

"Nyke gīmigon, ziry iksos lyks kesīr, yn se jēda kessa aderī mazverdagon zōbrie. Kosti māzigon arlī hemtubis," you promised with a smile as you looked up at her, walking beside so you could mount up. ('I know, it's peaceful here, but the hour will soon grow late. We can return tomorrow.')

She lay her chest and left wing down to allow you to mount easily, only raising to full height once you were settled in the saddle. Her steps on the ground were almost booming in the quiet field, with a small roar coming from her as she awaited your command.

You gripped tightly onto the saddle, heart tuning in with the powerful beat of the one belonging to the dragon carrying you. With a grin, you spoke; "Sōvēs, Khamira."

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Aemond's sword cut through the air, on unsteady feet he narrowly avoided Ser Criston's attack. His boots skid over the gravel of the training yard, panting heavily as he rolled his shoulders to keep up appearances and not attract a crowd of onlookers.

Sweat ran down Aemond's temple, getting caught on the leather of his eyepatch. Today was not a good day for him.

Cole seemed to catch on, dropping his shield to the ground and suggesting a break in their sparring session.

Aemond huffed, walking to the side to lay down his sword while he tugged at the collar of his vest that felt like it had been cutting his intake of air by half. His muscles ached from the exertion, yet as he let go of the hilt of his sword, his mind was already elsewhere. Trapped back in a moonlight haze that outlined the features of the one who'd taken residence in his mind and heart.

"You seem distracted today, my Prince," Cole spoke, slowly walking closer to Aemond as he caught his own breath. "Is something troubling you?"

A pair of young squires sparred to his left, two ladies and a guard stood together by his right, and Aegon made his way down the stairs that led to the grounds of the training yard—Aemond was acutely aware of every single person around him, and each one, he knew, was salivating for some royal gossip. He kept his back turned to Ser Criston, fidgeting slightly with the cuff of his sleeve; "No trouble. Simply not a good day for me, it seems."

"Oh, brother."

Both Aemond and Cole turned towards Aegon's obnoxious voice as he wandered towards them, both hands stretched before him as the first Prince gestured between his brother and Ser Criston, "Could this finally be the day that this poor man has bested you in combat?" He sported a wide and amused smile on his lips.

Aemond hummed, holding onto his composure. "We aren't finished yet."

"Well, by what I've just watched, the result seems pretty obvious," Aegon chuckled, leaning back against the weapon's table, "You were nearly getting your ass kicked."

"Watch your tongue," Aemond warned dryly, fists closed tight.

"Were you daydreaming about your childhood sweetheart, then?" Aegon ignored him, teasing further in a quieter tone, his smirk provocative. "Don't think I didn't notice you two eye-fucking each other at supper last night." He laughed at his own words.

Aemond clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. "I mean it, you drunk, mind your tongue." He leaned closer, only for his brother to hear; "Lest I pick up a sword and do it for you."

Aegon raised his hands in mock surrender, fighting a smile and losing. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, eh?" The older brother picked up a small dagger from the table, twirling it between his fingers, the sharp tip slightly digging into his skin. "And here I thought you would be overjoyed with the news."

A small, barely there frown made itself known in Aemond's features. He took half a step back, "What do you mean?" Coming from Aegon, it could hardly be anything good.

"Oh you know, brother," Aegon shrugged, hesitating only for a moment as he took a glance at Cole who stood behind Aemond with the same confused expression, "Mother's agreement with Daemon, the one... involving his dear eldest daughter."

Aemond's blood pumped faster at the mention of you, his breath stumbled and he grew more impatient, "What do you speak of?"

A beat of awkward silence passed as they held each other's gazes.

"Oh seven hells, you do not know yet," Aegon deadpanned, before a small, surprised giggle escaped him.

"Aegon..." The Prince's name out of Aemond's lips came as a warning and he narrowed his one good eye.

"Oh no, no." Aegon shook his head, dropping the dagger in his hands to take slow steps back to the same path he came from. "I'm sure mother will be the one wanting to break the news for you then, beats me wanting to be on the receiving end of her ire if I do it." He reached the stairs, one foot already on the first step when he looked at Aemond with one final grin; "But I'll say, you need not worry about your darling leaving your side ever again." Aegon winked and skipped up the stairs.

The feeling of being left in the dark was all-consuming as Aemond's eye skimmed over the training yard, the sound of steel against steel becoming muffled to his ears as he tried to find a sense of direction for his running thoughts.

He left Ser Criston without another word, quick steps taking him inside the Keep in search of his mother.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You flew over the cloudy sky with no hurry, your dragon's wings stretched and steady while she danced in between clouds. You'd taken the scenic route, as you liked to call it, the longer path to the dragonpit so you could linger a few minutes more on dragonback.

The flap of her wings was slow, yet not less powerful for it, her size creating shadows over the capital. Without you needing to say a word, your loyal dragon knew not to hurry today.

You kept on for a while longer, and just as you were close to reaching your destiny, you heard a familiar sharp screeching coming from behind you.

A roar came from your own dragon as she felt the presence before even seeing it. You turned your head around, looking over your shoulder. Caraxes' slithering frame suddenly emerged from between the clouds, his long and red body a stark contrast to the pale sky.

He flew beside and then overhead from you, and you could barely make out the grinning face of your father as he passed you.

"Aderī," you spoke the command and leaned forward on your saddle, holding tight. With a single movement of her wings, your dragon propelled herself forward, her lean body shooting through the skies as she caught up with Caraxes with an excited roar.

You came from under the Blood Wyrm, rising in flight just short of hitting them as a giggle went past your lips and heavy wind kissed your cheeks.

Khamira flew ahead, her ash-blue scales shining under the fading sunlight. You had yet to meet a dragon that could match her in speed. Caraxes' screeching could be heard from afar as he tried to keep up.

You were undeniably the first one to reach the dragonpit, your dragon raising dust as her large body landed on the ground. The keepers tried to approach her slowly to guide her inside the caves, but as instant as a wild lioness she was quick to greet them with a deafening roar and a show of her sharp teeth, taking a single haste step forward as a warning.

"It's alright," you called from above her, gesturing to the keepers, "I'll see her inside."

Khamira had been a temperamental wild beast ever since you claimed her; she disliked most people and had a tendency for ferocity if anyone dared to cross her boundaries, or worse yet, dared to threaten you. The dragoness bowed her head to you, and you only.

You jumped down from the saddle, feet hitting the ground as you bit back a smile. Your hand traced the warm scales along her neck as you walked, "Emi ȳdragotan nūmāzma bisa, ao jorrāelagon naejot gaomagon aōha vēdros, riña." You reached her face, caressing the shape of her muzzle while she cooed quietly at your words. ('We've spoken about this, you need to mind your temper, girl.')

Soon after, Caraxes also reached the ground, grumbling loudly as if annoyed for losing the race. "Sȳrkta biarves hembar jēda, rōva vala." You approached your father and the red dragon, watching as he climbed down from his saddle as well. ('Better luck next time, big guy.')

"Kesi iēdrosa pyghagon ao lanta." Daemon walked up to you, steps lazy as he pointed a finger at you with an amused smile. ('We will still beat you two.')

You laughed, meeting him in the middle of the otherwise empty grounds of the dragonpit. "Gaomagon ao jaelagon." ('Keep dreaming.')

A few feet away from you, Khamira and Caraxes met up as well, circling each other and exchanging low grunts, roars, and harmless bites. Two formidable beasts who had become friends over time.

You watched the two dragons with fondness for a beat, before turning your attention back to your father; who, you noticed, looked at you with a strange and unreadable gaze.

Daemon had both hands resting on the hilt of his sword, there was a small frown on his features, as if hesitating with the words he was about to say.

He sighed, glancing down. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh, we just went out for a flight." You explained easily, gesturing to your dragon, "I took her outside King's Landing for a few hours, you know how she gets if she's cooped up for too long."

Daemon chuckled, no stranger to the deep bond between you and the once-wild dragon. "Of course." Yet his small smile seemed strained, almost uncomfortable.

You frowned, shifting on your feet for a moment, "Is… something wrong, father?"

"We need to talk, about a rather urgent matter," Daemon spoke slowly, minding his words. And you don't think you've ever seen him this hesitant; this is not a conversation he's overly happy to be having.

You hesitated, his nervousness seeping into you. "Okay... what is it?"

What looked like a grimace passed over his features, as if searching for other ways to say what he needed to say. Eventually, he simply cleared his throat, "After last night's supper, Rhaenyra and I have talked." Daemon held your gaze for a beat, before quickly adding; "It was mainly her idea, so don't come for my neck." He tried jesting.

It did nothing to help the growing confusion inside your stomach, and you leaned your head to the side with a deeper frown on your brows.

"We all know our family has been drifting apart more and more as the years go by." He further explained, taking half a step closer to you so as to better hold your gaze, "And with the King solidifying Rhaenyra's claim to the throne, the greens won't be happy to… be left out. So we've decided, that it would be in everyone's best interest," His words seemed to get caught in his tongue, "To unite our families again, once and for all."

You kept quiet, yet distantly you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your fingers tingled and you grasped at your overcoat with a bruising grip. "And what… does this have to do with me?"

Daemon chose to ignore the question. "Rhaenyra has already spoken to Alicent and my brother, the King; and after some reasoning, both have, surprisingly, dare I say eagerly, agreed to it… as well."

You blinked once, twice, shaking your head; "Father, what in the seven hells are you on about?"

He breathed in deeply, holding the silence as he regarded you with something akin to sympathy. "We've decided to unite this family again, by offering a betrothal."

Your blood ran cold. You held onto the air in your lungs until he spoke again.

"Between you, and Alicent's second son, Aemond."

It felt as if your heart ceased its beating entirely. His words left you disarmed, and you were suddenly drowning in the waters of the Narrow Sea; sinking deeper, deeper, deeper into cold and dark waters that suffocated you from the inside out.

"What?" It fell as nothing but a breath past your lips.

Daemon could clearly see the sudden panic in your wide eyes, he reached both hands up, taking hold of your arms and rubbing his thumbs on the thick fabric of your overcoat. "I know it came suddenly, daughter. I… tried speaking against it, but believe me, even I know this is the right choice."

You tried finding your voice again, all choked up and tight; "I- No, I can't- Father, there must be something, anything else that can be done to repair this-" You stammered, "This rift between our families. Anything other than trading my life for it."

"I've been in your shoes before, I know how you feel, but it's not the end of the world-"

"Not the end-" You gulped back a sob, groaning in frustration, "How can you say that? It is to me. And then what? What would be expected of me? To bring gods know how many children to this world?"

Daemon huffed out a small laugh, avoiding your eyes, "No, worry not, we don't expect you to have children, you're not in direct line to the throne so there's no need for heirs. We only need a powerful alliance, a direct connection between both our families strong enough to keep our squabbles at bay, and that," He shook your shoulders, gaze intent, "You can provide."

Slowly, drop by drop, reality downed on you. The time had finally come for your betrothal, a day you had wished would never come at all. "You're asking me to be a means to an end," you whispered, "Why me?"

"I have… noticed how close you seem to be with The One-Eyed Prince," Daemon spoke with poorly concealed disdain, "We believe it would be in your best interest-"

Tears welled up in your eyes. Aemond. Of all people, his was the hand you'd be taking in marriage, being forced together for the sake of uniting your families.

How tragically ironic, for you to be promised to one another with broken bonds and stained hearts. Just as you had found each other again, just as you hoped to make up for all the lost years. Soon, the overly fragile bond you had only started to get the hang of again, will become public knowledge. It won’t be your secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

Aemond would resent you for it, surely. You knew he would, and you wouldn't blame him. Because right now, you feel something similar, angry and bitter, as it took away your choice of falling for him all over again on your own terms, in your own time. Instead, you were being forced into a closeness none of you were ready for.

Staggerly, your watery eyes rose up again, "It is in my best interest not to be married off against my own will, father." You pleaded, taking hold of Daemon's wrist from his hand on your shoulder, "Please."

"You are also closer to being Rhaenyra's child than Baela or Rhaena could ever be." Daemon continued his reasoning, "Besides, they are already betrothed, as is Alicent's firstborn. You and the second Prince will be the final piece, so to speak."

You shook your head weakly, "I love Rhaenyra but she's not my mother, not by blood, we both know it."

Daemon raised his brows, placating you. "You're not her blood but you are mine. And Rhaenyra took you as her ward, raised you as her own since she first met you. Our… differences with Queen Alicent lay heavier on her shoulders, as you know."

His words left you lost and uneasy. You bit into the inside of your cheek until nearly tasting blood, avoiding your father's stare. He made a good point, deep down you knew he did. Tensions were high between your family, and a strong union was necessary for a chance of peace. And heavens know Aemond is most dear to you, oh he is; but no girl wants her freedom taken away like this. "Please father, don't. Don't take away my choice on this." You tried one last time.

There was a beat of silence, and then Daemon's hands came to your cheeks, thumbs smoothing the skin of your cheekbones; just a little rough yet holding nothing but affection. "My first daughter, my zaldrītsos." He spoke low and soft, a voice he most used to you during the nights you were young and afraid of storms. "Ever since I took you from the hands of your drunk of a mother, what do I tell you? Do you remember?"

A sob climbed to your throat and you failed to bite it back. There were tears in your eyes one blink away from spilling. "That as long as you lived... I'd- I'd be alright."

A small, proud smile came to your father's features. He nodded once. "That's right. I would never do wrong by you, I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't our only playing card. Marriages are political agreements. It's a contract for a chance of peace between our families. Once it is done you can pursue happiness wherever you'd like."

And yet you didn't know how to tell him, that this political agreement might destroy your last hope of rebuilding what you once had with your now betrothed. You knew what would be expected of you and Aemond now, at every court and royal gathering you'd have to be side by side, it would be your duty to hold the appearances of a united Prince and Princess of the realm.

How will you do it? How will you hold his hand knowing it was neither yours nor his choice to do it?

How will you pretend to be in love, knowing nothing will be real, when deep down in your heart you wished it was?

"I wish it could be different," Daemon spoke again when you kept quiet, gaze miles away, "But a war is brewing." He dropped his hands from you, glancing up at the darkening sky. "And this union may help us avoid it, the one between our families, at least."

You closed your eyes and emptied your lungs. All your fight left your body, and a feeling of numbness settled in. You opened your eyes. "Does- does Aemond already know about this?"

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

There were two knocks on the doors that led to Queen Alicent's chambers, a moment later, the doors were pushed open.

"Prince Aemond, Your Grace." The guard stationed outside the doors announced. Aemond slowly walked in, and the doors were closed behind him again.

Alicent sat on the couch in the middle of her room, a cup of tea in hand as she looked out the open windows. Her attention shifted once the doors opened.

"Mother," Aemond called, halting his steps by the edge of the couch. His hair partially disheveled from the speed with which he traversed the long hallways of the Keep until reaching his mother's chambers, anxiety and apprehension spurring him on.

"Aemond," Alicent placed her cup of tea on the small table, getting up to take a few steps closer to her son, "I was just about to send for you."

Aemond gulped back, striving to keep his voice from sounding as nervous as he felt, "I've just met with Aegon in the training yard." He frowned, recalling the confusing words of his brother. "He speaks of… some news regarding me, I believe, that I do not yet know."

His words made Alicent groan, closing her eyes momentarily, "He must have overheard my conversation with Rhaenyra and her husband." She sighed, regarding Aemond with a look he couldn't decipher. "I am glad he held his tongue, I wished to tell you this myself."

Aemond took a step closer, his voice softening in the slightest. "What is it, mother? Did something happen?"

"No," Alicent spoke even softer, extending her hands and taking hold of Aemond's forearms who promptly held her the same. Her thumbs moved up and down on the fabric of his sleeves. "But, my son, your father and I have made a decision, one which I hope you can understand."

A frown then came to Aemond's features. He held onto his breath until his lungs ached, tightening the hold he had on his mother's arms; fearing the worst, even if he had no idea of what 'the worst' could be. And in the midst of it all, the headache came back. It always began with a heaviness in the back of his skull, but it would soon spread to his temples, forehead, and down the harsh scar.

Aemond blinked a few times, trying to chase the pain away even if he knew it was to no avail.

Alicent inhaled deeply, giving Aemond what looked to be a bittersweet smile. "Rhaenyra and Daemon have made an offer," she hesitated, "A betrothal between you… and Daemon's eldest daughter."

Many times in his life Aemond has felt lost, helpless, unable to move his body while his heart thundered inside his chest. Yet he wondered if any at all could compare to how he's feeling now.

The One-Eyed Prince tried to keep his face impassive, almost painfully so; but he knew his wide eye reflected his surprise, he knew his tight grip on his mother's arms reflected his desperation, he knew the wobbling of his lower lip reflected his fears.

You. He was to be betrothed. To you.

The one person he wished to have back for so many years. The one person who he has missed for so many years. The one person who he'd convinced himself that, for better or worse, did not care about him anymore. The pounding pain in his head grew stronger, following suit with his spiking emotions, and he gritted his teeth.

"My son," Alicent reached one hand up to Aemond's cheek when the helpless look in his eye tugged at her heart. "I believe it can be a good idea. Your father wishes for peace between our houses, between our families, and… perhaps we should honor his wish." She held a pause, minding her next words. "He's not doing well, your father, as you know. And Rhaenyra is to take the throne, maybe sooner than we thought."

Aemond took in her words one by one, trying to find his voice but with no luck. All he did was look at his mother. He knew, of course, that she was right. If anything he'd made tensions even higher between their family after what happened at supper last night, and part of him didn't want to bring more sorrow to his mother's life by going against this betrothal.

"With this marriage, our families would be united once again." Alicent squeezed Aemond's arms, willing him to understand, "I refused an offer such as this in the past… and I don't think I should make the same mistake now." She gulped down any pride, yet still raised her chin, "For the sake of our lives. Yours, your brother's. A union with the hope of peace during Rhaenyra's rule."

Aemond averted his eye, his hand still sore from holding his sword during the sparring session with Cole, his scarred eye socket stinging persistently. He dropped his arms to his side, flexing his fingers. "I am- I am to marry…" He hesitated on your name and closed his eye in frustration.

Alicent understood anyway, and her son's hesitation brought sympathy to her. Features softening, one of her hands rubbed Aemond's arm in an attempt to comfort him, "Yes. But I remember how the two of you used to be the best of friends, always together. I am sure your marriage will be a happy one, my son." She spoke with a note of empathy, gently; "It is a privilege, to marry someone you like."

Aemond exhaled shakily. Few and far in between as they were, the moments when he could lean into a mother's embrace were always cherished by the One-Eyed Prince. Yet there was a poorly concealed lump in his throat, a restlessness making his fingers tap his thigh.

Aemond refrained from telling his mother how he feared you didn't like him as you once used to anymore. He refrained from telling his mother how he would never wish for a woman like you to be stuck with a man like him.

With a tightness in his chest, deep down Aemond knew you deserved better. Better than he could ever be.

But alas, he opened his eye, looking down at the hopeful look on his mother's face even if his headache almost got her blending with the faded sunlight seeping through the windows.

Aemond managed a small, pained smile, and nodded.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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[seraphinitegames]

Hey, Mishka!!!

I've been replaying TWC over the last couple of months, and must say, it's been an entirely rejuvenating experience for me. Like, I was reading it the first time, although I've replayed the series quite too many (worrying number) of times already. And it still manages to amaze me, EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I've repeated this in the past, and I'll repeat it again. The Wayhaven Chronicles is a blessing for me and I'm sincerely thankful to have come across it when I did. And I'm grateful to you for making this lovely world a reality (and of course, the four beautiful vamps)! Really eager for Book 4 and have already player the demo; can say it's gonna be worth the wait. It every time is.

Replaying the series in the last few months, I had a certain uncontrollable urge to drop and ask a few questions to you. Apologize in advance for the long ask and message, but it had been bottling up inside of me for SOOOOOO LONG.

1. In Book 1, when we're to lead the investigation in one of the three directions, is there any way to get success in any direction without Bobby making a big joke out of our investigation in the newspaper?

2. In Book 2, when Nicole and Max Salinas come to report their incident, can Tina actually find out anything unusual? If so, what is actually needed to explain that?

3. In Book 3, I noticed if we choose to go the final mission alone, depending on the route chosen, Boddy/Doug will end up tagging along as well, jeopardizing everything. Is there still a way to complete the mission successfully and rescuing everyone like it happens when we go along with Rebecca?

4. Less of a question, but more of a plea. Please tell me we can get a pet anytime in the series. I was just curious if we can get one.

5. How powerful is the big baddie in Book 4 compared to Unit Bravo? You don't need to answer if this verges on spoiler-y territory.

Really sorry to overwhelm you with this, but it's just months and months of joy, happiness, and sheer ecstasy making me blabber on about this world like this. Thanks once again, for making this truly beautiful story, world, and the vampires a reality.

Have a good day!!!! Lots of love from India!!

You can never play a game you love too many times (I keep telling myself that as I gradually burn a hole into my poor old console playing Dragon Age over and over, lol!)! If it brings you happiness, then that's what is important! :D

Ok, let's see about the questions...it's been a whole since I've gone through the older games without being in editing mode, hehe!

I don't think so...Bobby is, well, Bobby. And that scene was there very much to establish their character and show the player what type of person they are.

I don't think so, again. If there's anything unusual or odd, then I usually like to let the MC find that instead of it happening 'off-screen' so it's more impactful for the player—unless it's Verda discovering stuff, because that needs to happen for…reasons.

Iirc, in the Bobby/Doug routes, you get the auction scene, so a lot of that branch involves focusing on saving yourself! But the other team that joins Unit Bravo will help in saving a lot of the captives in that version.

I would love that being a massive animal companion fan myself, hehe! But likely not, just because the MC is away a lot from home, and that's unfair on the pet, even a fictional one, lol. I was tempted to give the MC a supernatural pet that hung around at the facility—that was definitely a strong idea at one point just so I could write a pet in the series for those that wanted it (me, I was the one who wanted it, hehe!) :D

**BOOK FOUR DEMO SPOILERS AHEAD** It's not just that Book Four's villain is terrifyingly powerful (or will be. They are, thankfully for the MC and UB, in a weakened state for a while due to what's happened to them and what happened in Chapter Two) but it's a lot to do with the fact that their power specifically counteracts and weakens Unit Bravo's. So that's a double whammy!

Thank you SO incredibly much for the amazing message! It means more than you can know <3

[doc-who]

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Summary: Emily faces the consequences of keeping your relationship a secret.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapters: 2/?

Words: 1640

Catergories: Angst, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Violence

You wake up with a groan, vision blurry and limited to just one eye. You try to reach up to feel the one you can’t see out of, but the rattle of chains stops you. Pressing yourself upright against the wall, you look down to see your wrists restrained to a radiator, the cuffs biting into your skin. Squinting, you take in the small, bare room you’re in, trying to discern what you can through the meager light that spills through the smoke-stained curtains.

Searching your aching brain, you try to remember how you got into this situation. It comes to you in the flashes, your apartment, the bar, dancing. You remember Emily, the look on her face when she said the two of you were a mistake. Despite your current circumstances, you still feel the ache her words cause you. Pushing those thoughts aside, you yank on the cuffs as hard as you can, wincing as the metal cuts into your already raw wrists. The radiator doesn’t give in the slightest, and you take a deep breath, pushing the pain you feel all over your body to the side so that you can think of a way out of this.

You take your mind back again, recalling how you sat in the alley, how you thought the hand on you was Emily. You squeeze your eyes together in concentration and quickly hiss in regret as pain shoots through your face. The feeling puts the last pieces of last night together, bringing back the memory of being struck across the head. You swear in frustration, unable to remember the face of the person who took you.

As you struggle to recollect the fragments of your memory, you hear footsteps approaching, and the handle to the single door in the room turns. You tense in preparation, breath lodged in your chest as the door creaks open.

—

For the first time in her life, Emily arrives late to work. She had tossed and turned all night, replaying her conversation with you over and over again. Usually, she prides herself on her composure, but she can’t bring herself to care when she walks into the conference room with dark circles under her eyes. She’d hoped arriving late would mean she wouldn’t have to endure any awkward tension with you, that she could just dive straight into a case and focus on that. She wasn’t wrong in her assumption, but she had expected to be the last one to arrive, not you. Throwing her bag down on the table, she sits in her usual seat, looking up to find the whole team’s eyes on her.

“What?” She asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Garcia stands at the board, a concerned look on her face and asks if you came in with her.

Emily tries not to visibly tense at the question, but she can’t hide the edge in her voice. “No, why would she?”

The team shares a knowing look with each other, and Emily prepares herself for deflection. Garcia isn’t concerned with treading the line, and doesn’t hold back her next question. “We saw her follow you out of the bar, but neither of you came back in. Didn’t you guys leave together?”

Emily tenses at the implication. “No, I went home alone.” The automatic defensiveness wears off then, and she realises why they’re so concerned. “What do you mean she didn’t come back in?”

“No one saw her after she went after you. We all thought you had both left. I didn’t even realise the two of you had gone until Alexa came up and asked if I’d seen her.”

Emily bristles at the mention of the women, remembering the two of you together. In her annoyance, she brushes off the concern that itches at her. “She’s probably just running late.”

Opening the case file, she focuses on the paper in front of her, ignoring the worried look Morgan gives her that she can see out of the corner of her eye. A few minutes pass in awkward silence before Hotch arrives and checks everyone’s present. Noticing your absence, he questions your whereabouts.

Morgan speaks up. “She hasn’t called you?”

“No.” Hotch answers, confusion in his voice. “Garcia, get her ETA please.”

“On it, sir.” With a quick nod she darts out of the room.

Emily watches the interaction silently, nerves building in her stomach. The feeling builds steadily until Garcia storms back into the room, where they quickly veer towards panic.

“I can’t get in contact with her,” Garcia explains frantically, “There’s no answer on either of her phones.”

Emily intercepts, “Did you trace them?”

Garcia stutters, embarrassed that they know how she frequently invades their privacy.

“Garcia.” Hotch says sternly.

“Yes, I traced both of them! The last coordinates were at the bar before they turned off.”

Emily’s heart sinks, the worry making her hungover head throb.

“Someone go check her apartment and see if she’s there.” Hotch instructs.

Emily automatically stands up, then suddenly becomes aware of how her eagerness looks. She opens her mouth to explain her haste, but is quickly stopped.

“For god's sake Emily!” Garcia yells in exasperation, “We already know that the two of you are together!”

Emily feels heat building her cheeks, her stammered rebuttal cut short by Garcia’s tirade.

“No! No more deflection. Now go find your girl!”

Letting out a defeated sigh, Emily nods and quickly makes her way around the table. She swallows her embarrassment as she’s stopped by Hotch at the door.

“Call us when you get there.” Hotch orders.

“Yes, sir.” She nods, the mortification at being called out in front of the team falls to the wayside. She needs to know that you’re okay.

—

Emily pulls up to your building, nerves buzzing. She glances up to your window, hoping she’ll see some movement, some sign that you’re there.

Swallowing her disappointment, she makes her way up to your apartment, apprehension building in her chest. Her hands tremble as she slides the spare key you gave her into the lock. The door clicks open, and she braces herself, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.

She’s hit with the scent of your perfume as she enters, and her heart seizes at the smell. Making her way through your apartment, she calls out your name and waits for a non-existent reply. When she makes it to your bedroom, she takes a bated breath before walking inside. Her heart sinks when she finds the room empty. Everything is exactly as the two of you had left it the night before. She freezes at the realisation, you hadn’t been back here. You never came home last night. Bracing herself on the doorframe, she takes in the scene, trying to find any clue that she's wrong. As her eyes wander, she spots the dress you had teased her with the other night before, thrown over the clothes rail exactly where she had left it. Emily closes her eyes and it’s like she’s back in that memory. She can almost feel the warmth of your body against hers, the sound of your laugh ringing through the air, your breath on her skin as you whisper in her ear. The memory is so vivid it hurts.

Opening her eyes, she shakes her head. She needs to think like a profiler, not your girlfriend. Her jaw clenches. You’re not her girlfriend. You never were. Even if she finds you, you would never want to be with her after what she said.

Emily pulls out her phone, fingers hovering over Garcia’s name. Taking a deep breath she steadies her voice and makes the call.

“Garcia, it’s me. She’s not here.” The silence on the line is thick and palpable.

She can almost feel Penelope’s concern reaching out from the other end. “What do you mean she’s not there?”

Emily bites her tongue. “I mean she’s not here. She never came home last night. Everything’s exactly as we left it.” She doesn’t bother to hide the truth of the two of you anymore. She’d happily shout it in the middle of the BAU if it meant having you safe.

Garcia’s tone automatically shifts to analyst mode. “Okay, okay. I’ll check the hospitals, maybe she had an accident.” The words are meant to sound hopeful, but Emily can tell how forced it is. Even Garcia didn’t believe them.

Emily nodded, even though no one was there to see it. “Yeah, okay. Call me back as soon as you get anything. I’m heading back now.” She ends the call and sinks onto the edge of the bed, running her hands over the familiar cover. The fear in her voice had been impossible to hide, and she knew that Garcia had heard it loud and clear.

—

You’re not sure who to expect when the door creaks open, but you’re not exactly surprised when the man who enters is the spitting image of a typical unsub. You brace yourself when he slowly approaches like he’s hunting his prey.

“Finally, you’re awake.” He grins, showing yellowed teeth.

You pull away as much as you can when he reaches towards you, which isn’t far given the cuffs. He runs a filthy hand over the side of your bruised and bloody face, chucking when you strain your neck back away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit.

He grabs your face, hard, and you hold back the pained noise that threatens to escape you when his grip tightens on your bruises. He laughs in your face, and you hold your breath at the foul smell.

“Lucky me,” he sneers, “I found myself a fighter.”

You meet his eyes, refusing to show him any fear. Your stomach turns as he strokes your face.

He leans in, repulsive breath against your ear. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

Next Chapter

ao3

[pretty-blkgirl]

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 29]

- Masterlist -

A/N: Contains a written part. There is a TW for this chapter. Scenes of physical assault are present, it’s also a very heavy chapter in general. Please be mindful and don’t read anything that may upset you!!!

~~~~|~~~~

“This is a cute place,” Your mom remarked when you three stepped into the house. Hyunjin was standing close to you, already a little put off by your mother, considering she asked him what business he had been doing at your apartment less than three minutes prior.

When he explained he was a “friend” of yours, your mom rolled her eyes and told him you couldn’t have possibly had so many friends.

Hyunjin was done with her after that, but you still allowed her in the dorm despite his looks of disapproval.

“Thank you,” You said, “Yumi and Hana decorated it for the most part. They have an eye for-”

“You have no pictures of me and you” Your mom frowned as she looked at the photo wall you and the girls had.

To be fair, there were no pictures of any of you guys’ families. The wall was only meant for pictures of you and the group.

“I have a picture of us in my room” You revealed, “I’ll show it to you”

“I want a picture of us out here though.”

“Let’s go see the picture,” Hyunjin smiled. To your mom, he looked polite, to you, he looked beyond pissed.

You set the food down and took them to your room. After setting your purse down, you pointed in the direction of your bedside table. As you said, there was a picture of you and your mom. It was an older picture, you were maybe one or two years old, but it was a picture nonetheless.

“That’s nice” She mumbled

You took your guests back to the dining room to finally eat lunch. You wanted your mom to leave quickly, you could tell her mood had soured for whatever reason and you didn’t want to deal with that.

As you three ate, she started to get a little antsy, which made you nervous.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine baby” She grinned, but her leg shook violently and she kept looking back towards the hallway.

“You sure?”

“Well” She sighed, “Can I use the restroom?”

“Of course” You nodded, “Do you remember the way to my room? The bathroom is right across from it”

She nodded and stood up, excusing herself and leaving you and Hyunjin alone.

Once he was sure he heard a door close, Hyunjin gave you a look

“I know that’s your mother, and I’d never disrespect her, but… I don’t like her!” He whispered, “I don’t know baby, she just gives off this….vibe. It’s a bad vibe, she seems so spiteful”

You crossed your arms, taking in Hyunjin’s words as you replayed the last couple of days in your mind.

Her whole demeanor just didn’t sit right with you. Either she was too sweet or very passive-aggressive. A few times she swore at you, and you could tell she hadn’t really changed.

At least, she didn’t change enough for you.

“She’s supposed to leave in a couple of days. I think I’m gonna do low contact. I don’t think she grew as a person. It’s like she’s trying to appease me”

You two continued to talk. Five minutes went by. Then ten. Then twenty.

“Why isn’t she out yet?” you asked your boyfriend, who looked just as concerned as you

“Let’s go check on her”

You got up with Hyunjin following close behind. As you walked up to the bathroom, you noticed the door was slightly ajar and the light was off.

You peeked in and didn’t see anyone there.

Then, you noticed your bedroom door was closed. You knew you left it open when you three walked out earlier.

A bad feeling settled in your stomach as you barged into your room.

The first thing you saw was your clothes all over the floor. Your shirts, pants, shorts, and even underwear were scattered everywhere.

Naturally, your drawers were opened, some even fully emptied. Your closet was ransacked and you saw a pile of coats and purses on the floor.

Pieces of paper were crumpled up in a pile, and a dark blue journal was close by, so you immediately knew your diary had been destroyed.

All your posters had been ripped down. All the pictures Hyunjin drew for you were torn apart.

Every love song Han wrote for you that you taped up, destroyed.

Every Polaroid you took with I.N., was destroyed.

The pictures of Soonie, Doognie, and Dori that Lee Know gave to you that featured little words of encouragement on them, were destroyed.

Love poems from Seungmin

Sticky notes with reminders to “keep being cute” or “keep doing well” from Changbin

Origami boats from Felix

And every single flower Chan had ever gotten for you.

He knew you loved roses, and he insisted on getting you real ones even though you couldn’t take care of them.

They were dead and fragile, but you still kept them in a vase just for memory's sake.

Now they lay on the floor. Crushed.

The very last thing you saw was your mother, sitting on your bed, with your wallet in one hand and your debit cards and cash in the other.

“Wow” is all you said

Hyunjin felt your rage build up. The symbol was practically burning a hole through his palm. He knew the other boys could feel it, and they were probably calling and texting you both non-stop.

Your phones were in the other room though, and honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about answering a phone at that moment.

All you felt was pure anger.

All of a sudden you were fifteen years old again, watching your mom demolish your room after she found out you kissed a boy at a school dance.

Then you were twenty, right before you left for Korea, watching her smash every plate, vase, and picture frame she could get her hands on after she learned that you’d be “abandoning her”

You don’t know what set her off this time. You didn’t want to know.

“How could I be so damn stupid?” You wondered aloud, “Why didn’t I tell you to go fuck yourself the moment I found out you showed up at my fucking place of work?”

“Watch your mouth, girl” Your mother snapped, still holding your things in her hands.

“Nah, FUCK THAT. I allowed you to waltz your ass back into my life and this is how you repay me? Wrecking my room? Ruining everything I cherish most?”

You walked further into the room, slowly getting closer to your mother.

Hyunjin knew you were about to do something drastic, so he sprung into action, grabbing your arm before you had a chance to raise it.

Your mom seemingly took this as a challenge. She threw your money and cards down, standing up and getting in your face.

“I read your little diary. I saw all the things you said about me. You think I’m a failure as a mother? You think I don’t give a fuck about you, huh? You called me a narcissistic bitch. I’ll show you a bitch alright”

Her hand raised and she slapped you.

It was so quick, you could barely process what had happened. Hyunjin, though, moved you behind him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He fumed, “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again”

“Please move Hyunjin” You trembled, hands visibly shaking as he continued to yell profanities at your mother.

“No! I’m gonna call the fucking police, you think you’re gonna get away with hitting her? Are you fucking dumb?”

“Hyunjin leave the room please”

“Y/n she HIT YOU! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE WITH HER”

“Please leave and call Rose. Tell her I need an NDA and my mom on the next flight back home”

He was about to argue more, but you gave him a look so desperate he wouldn’t dare to talk back. Hyunjin begrudgingly left, but made sure to leave the door wide open just in case he needed to rush back in.

When he was gone, you faced your mother.

You loved her.

You loved her so much.

Despite how much she mistreated and hurt you, all you wanted was for her to love you back.

You needed her approval, you craved her attention. But the moment she had the nerve -the audacity- to hit you, any hope for reconciliation was out the window.

“My manager will be here any second. You are going to sign an NDA because I don’t trust you won’t try to make money off this situation. Once you sign it, you will get the fuck out of my house. Someone will drive you to your Airbnb, you will get your shit, and you will go back home. As soon as you’re out my eyesight I’m getting rid of any and every trace of you. After today, you will not be able to get a hold of me again. And I swear to God, if you ever find yourself thinking you’re gonna try and ruin my life any more than you already have, I’ll get a lawyer and sue your ass so quickly that you won’t even have a pot to piss in by the time I’m through with you.”

As if on cue, Hyunjin walks back in with Rose.

“Y/nnie? What happened? I got here as quick as I could- what happened to your room? Is your face bruised up?”

“Do you have the NDA, Rose?”

“Yes, I mean I have a regular one? What did you want one for specifically?”

“What are the guidelines in that one?”

She quickly skimmed through the papers, “The person who signs it can’t reveal any details about any situation that could harm the artist’s reputation or image in any way, with certain stipulations of course”

“Let’s say my mom destroyed my room, hit, and planned to rob me. If she signed those documents, would she be able to talk about it in exchange for money or even…exposure?”

Rose was quiet for a few seconds, finally understanding the gravity of the situation

“No” She finally said, “Not unless she wanted to get a couple of lawsuits”

“What if she made up a story to try and harm my reputation?”

“That wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, especially if she planned on living a peaceful life”

You wordlessly took the papers and grabbed a pen off your desk, giving both the items to your mom. With a look of disbelief mixed with hatred, she signed the papers and threw them on the floor.

“You were a mistake” She sneered, “I hate you”

You thought your heart would break, you thought you would crumble at her words, but you simply nodded.

“Goodbye Mom”

Rose escorted her out, and you finally started to feel the warm sensation on your cheek.

Your legs were wobbly, and they gave out after a few seconds. Hyunjin was at your side instantly, holding you as you started to sob violently.

~~~~|~~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @cunninglibrarian @holly-here @galaxy4489 @hyunmikim @yougottobekittenme @hyeon-yi @katsukis1wife @multi-fandom-nightmare @staybabblingbaby @kozumesphone @fuck-you-im-gae @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @champagneconfetti

[gurugirl]

Just For Tonight | Ch. 2

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?

Chapter Summary: Y/n's pretty sure she'll never see or hear from Harry again. They had a fun night but he made it clear that it was only just the once. Except Harry can't seem to follow his own rules.

Warning: 18+ only, smut

Word Count: 10,501

Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)

Just For Tonight Masterlist

Having a night with Harry Styles was like having one of those hot-girl secrets that only the most privileged were in on. But what that also meant was that she couldn’t really go talking all about it to everyone either.

She would have loved to have posted on Instagram all about it. Bragged about having seen his cock and then having it inside of her. She would have loved to have seen Dyna’s face when she told her that Harry Styles had eaten her out and spanked her. Dyna was one of those acquaintances in her friend group who was smug and pretty but rude. Thought her shit didn’t stink.

And well, she never would tell anyway. Not only would she never brag about what she’d done with someone during sex, but she wouldn’t want to betray anyone that way.

But it was kind of a bummer that she couldn’t talk about it all. Ady drilled her for information and Y/n had already decided that she’d only spill the details to her best friend, whom she could actually trust. Ady was a work friend at best. She trusted Ady, but not with that kind of secret.

All Ady knew was that Y/n had spent the night with Harry Styles. And when she arrived at the office on Monday morning, half of her co-workers had already heard about it.

“That’s why I didn’t give you details, Ady. You shouldn’t be saying anything to anyone.” Y/n replied as she bit into her sandwich. Ady was trying to extract more information from her.

“But I would never tell anyone those details, Y/n! Come on. Just give me something. Any tattoos we don’t know about? Is his dick as big as everyone thinks it is?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair, tossing the crust of her sandwich into the garbage, and completely ignoring Ady on her way back to her desk.

After a few days, the gossip had died down and Ady had pretty much given up. Y/n was glad everyone had stopped talking about it and asking her uncomfortable questions.

And while on the outside it had appeared Y/n had moved on completely, on the inside she couldn’t stop replaying the night with Harry over and over again.

Especially when she was alone in her bedroom at night.

Y/n had a housemate. She lived in a two-bedroom bungalow with a microscopic backyard, street parking, and the tiniest closet known to man. And still, she could barely afford to make rent each month. But Brad was nice. And he allowed her to pay a little late sometimes. She didn’t often pay late. Maybe a handful of times over the year.

But it also helped that Brad had a bit of a crush on Y/n. She didn’t want to be that person but it came in handy in this case.

“I’m so sorry. I get paid next Friday and I’ll pay you first thing. Just didn’t keep track of my spending again this month.” It was slightly embarrassing. She wasn’t careless about how she spent her money but that month she had the Harry Styles concert, bought a hotel room (which she didn’t even sleep in), and spent a little extra on her cute new bodysuit. She had saved up her money but overspent just a tiny bit. Okay so maybe she was a little careless with her money at times. And she was getting too old to keep living paycheck to paycheck. It was time to start putting money away.

And she couldn’t do that with her current job and all the bills she had on top of that.

Y/n was going to have to find a second job. Anything so she could get her footing and pay off some loans, and then maybe she could breathe a little.

“No worries, Y/n. I’m good for it until then.” Brad smiled. She could tell he was getting tired of it, though. And for that alone, the embarrassment of having to ask if he could cover her part for a handful of days and to see his expression of pity and probably a little bit of annoyance, yeah. It was time to find a second job.

Her cousin was the floor manager at a posh, expensive restaurant downtown that Y/n would have never dreamed of stepping foot into. Not normally anyway. But there was a job opening for a server spot that her cousin had casually mentioned a week prior. She didn’t know if the position had been filled or not and if they would give her that prime weekend shift but there was only one way to find out.

“Y/n! Hi! How are you?” Laren answered chipper and sweet.

“Hi. Uh… good! How are you?”

Small talk commenced before Y/n finally got into the nitty gritty of why she was calling.

“Oh? The server position? It hasn’t been filled actually. We’ve been interviewing, though. You should come in and apply. I can put in a good word.”

The position was for two weekday nights and rotating a Sunday and Saturday every other week with a draw for the occasional Friday night (the coveted night to serve apparently). It wasn’t ideal but she figured she’d at least apply and see what happened.

Y/n had been a server in college so she was familiar with the work. It was hard, stressful at times, but tips could be good with the right tables.

And part of her didn’t want to waitress again. She was already working 40 hours at her office job. This would leave her with very little free time. But she needed to do something because every time she thought about how she was late on rent again it made her cringe and flush hot with embarrassment.

The interview process was fairly painless. And the fact that her cousin already worked there seemed to be in her favor because the very next afternoon she was getting a call to come back in to begin training. She’d gotten the position.

And it was just as hard as she imagined it would be. Shadowing one of the servers felt strange. She started on a Tuesday night since it would be a relatively slow night. Rushing from her office job to get home, changing into her uniform, and then racing through heavy traffic to get to the restaurant gave her a good idea of how it would be for her on the nights she worked during the weekdays.

Her past experience was a blessing. She only needed to shadow for two weeks before they started letting her have her own tables. Everyone on staff was easy to get along with on some level.

She did learn, though, that Vyra was upset that they were letting her take a weekend night shift so early on. Vyra was also a server who’d been at The Dulcería for a couple of years and wasn’t allowed weekend shifts until she’d been serving for a while.

“Tell them I’ll take your ten top tonight. I don’t think you’re quite ready for the level of service you’ll need to provide.” Vyra placed her tray down and faced Y/n as she spoke.

Y/n had just arrived at the restaurant for her first weekend evening shift by herself. She didn’t even know she had a ten top as she’d only just walked into the door.

“I… okay, well, let me at least put my stuff down. I’ll talk to Mannie and find out what he wants before I ask for that.” She was already annoyed. Not ready for the level of service… Just for that comment alone, Y/n was going to make sure she kept the table and was the best damn waitress that ten top could ever have that night.

“I’m telling you that it’s going to be better for you to just give me the table. We’ll switch off. They’re gonna be here all night.”

Y/n put her purse in the locker and turned to look at Vyra, “How do you know they’re gonna be here all night?”

“Because the reservation was very specific about how long they would be here. Probably someone famous honestly. Just tell Mannie you’re giving me your section.”

Sighing as she clicked the lock into place and tied her apron around her waist she shook her head, “We’ll see.”

Y/n checked the schedule for the night and realized, the only table that she was assigned was the ten top Vyra had mentioned. Which was interesting. Looking at the name on the reservation it didn’t ring any bells for her as to who could be in the party that would require her to stay with them all night but she knew she could take care of the table on her own. Even if they were famous and picky and maybe demanding. There were only ten of them. And it was her only table.

After the first two guests had arrived and were brought to the table by the hostess, Mannie signaled to her to greet them at the table and get some drinks started.

“You didn’t tell Mannie to let me take over. You didn’t even ask. I think it’s in your best int–“

“I’ve got it, Vrya. I appreciate your concern but I’m fine. Really,” she spoke as she neared the private area of the dining room where her table was.

“No. I don’t think you understand, Y/n. You’re new at this–“

Y/n stopped abruptly and Vrya nearly ran into her, “Stop. I’ve waited tables before. And Mannie wanted me to have this one. Just… go back to your tables and give it a rest.”

The pair at the table were dressed extremely casually, which was unusual for the restaurant. Most people entering the doors of The Dulcería wore designer and dressed appropriately in smart casual.

“Hi. I’m Y/n. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like me to get you started with anything? Wine for the table or appetizers for when everyone else starts to arrive?”

The young woman at the table ordered three bottles of wine to start and a handful of appetizers. Easy enough.

When Y/n returned to the private area with a cart full of wine and water she stopped in her tracks. More of the party had arrived but now she recognized two of them. She blinked her eyes and swallowed as she felt her heart rate pick up before pushing the cart forward again and closer to the table. She could be seeing things, she told herself.

As she neared the party she honed in on the man with his back to her with chocolate brown curls and broad shoulders. Was this…? It couldn’t be.

And yet she was sure it was. Based on the fact that she was looking right at Jeff Azoff and his adorable wife Glenne… She gulped as she parked the cart at the edge of the room and plucked up one of the bottles of red wine to uncork.

Carrying the bottle and a glass of wine toward the young woman who ordered it, she was suddenly aware that all eyes were on her as she turned the label side out toward her. But before she could pour a taste sample the young woman pointed at the man with his brown curls at the other end of the table, “It’s his to taste.”

She let out a quick breath to ground herself and closed her eyes for only a moment before turning to see those bright green eyes already on her. The big grin on his face told her he recognized her immediately. Of course he did.

She smiled, taking a step back, and slowly walked toward Harry to give him the first taste of the wine.

Pouring the liquid into the glass slowly as she stood to his left Harry finally spoke, “I didn’t know you worked here. How have you been?”

Okay. A standard greeting. Even that alone got her heart aflutter. She wasn’t sure if he’d act like he didn’t know her or if he’d greet her kindly. She would assume the latter but of course, one never knows in these circumstances.

“I’ve been well. This is actually a new job for me. And uh, how about you? How have you been?”

Harry sipped the wine and nodded, “S’good. Thank you. I’ll have a glass of this one,” he cleared his throat while she poured a serving for him, “And yeah… I’m great. Thank you. We should catch up soon,” he leaned in closer and finished his thought, “Kind of wish I’d gotten your number.” He spoke the last sentence a little softer so only she could hear.

For the duration of the dinner it was difficult to have any kind of real conversation with Harry while she was taking orders and running back and forth but each time she returned Harry made sure to get in a comment or ask her a question. She noticed the looks from a few of the people sitting around the table.

Heading back into the kitchen to grab their meals she noticed Vrya walking toward her side of the restaurant where the private dining room was. By then, all the servers heard about who was in the private dining room. Most didn’t make a fuss about it but a couple of them were curious.

With the tray loaded she delicately walked back toward her guests and spotted Vrya next to Harry and chatting. Technically Vyra wasn’t allowed to speak to guests at Y/n’s table unless she requested help. It wasn’t a big deal normally, but since Harry was a celebrity, a famous pop star, it would be frowned upon. This wasn’t some Deux Moi tell-all Sunday sightings gossip rag. This was a posh, upscale restaurant where wealthy people and celebrities came to enjoy a quiet meal without being disturbed or spotted. Mannie was not going to be happy about Vrya taking it upon herself to check on Y/n’s table. She couldn’t wait to talk to Laren about Vyra as well. She wished her cousin was there that night so she could vent but she’d be calling her about this later.

Placing the tray onto the stand Y/n frowned at Vrya as they made eye contact, “I was just seeing if everything was going well. Since you’re new and all,” Vrya laughed and looked down at Harry, “Plus having such a big star here we need to make sure service is perfect.”

Harry smiled at Y/n, “Y/n here been more than perfect. You’ve nothing to worry about. I’m sure we all agree,” he gestured toward everyone at the table, “we are in the most capable hands here. Couldn’t be happier.”

The fake smile on the intruder was telling as Y/n began to bring dishes around the table, “Thanks for checking in on me Vrya. It’s unnecessary, though. I’ll call on help if I need it.”

Standing up straight and nodding at Harry she walked behind Y/n and whispered, “His water glass is low,” and then exited the room.

Y/n had no idea what she’d done that would have Vyra acting like such a child. She was polite to Vrya but she really wanted to yank her hair out and shove her out the window for sticking her nose into business that wasn’t hers. But she figured she was better off ignoring the whole thing.

“So, Y/n…” one of the guys at the table spoke up, “We hear that you and Harry met at a recent concert. How did you enjoy the show?”

She felt her neck get hot as she fumbled with the notepad in her apron pocket, “Oh… it was awesome. Yeah. I gave him a pair of sunglasses that he wore that night on stage. That’s pretty much how we met. Brought a co-worker with me. A blast. It was the first concert I’ve been to.” She smiled and then quickly corrected, “First Harry Styles concert that is!”

The look on Harry’s face was cheeky. He was holding in an obvious grin on his face as he gazed at her. She was a nervous thing in this setting. Harry remembered quite well how sure of herself and confident she’d been that night. How she was practically dominating him, leading everything that happened. Mostly.

And even though he made it clear that what had happened was just for that night, he realized he’d been fantasizing about her a lot since then. In fact, every time he touched himself his thoughts made their way to Y/n just before he could come. He hadn’t even slept with anyone since. Not that he’d been holding out for her or anything. He had been thinking about her a lot, though. Missing her even. He was quite delighted that she was his server and that he happened to meet her once again. It felt like fate maybe.

And Harry was a big believer in fate and the universe shifting and creating space and paths for humanity. He was a believer in karma and destiny and intertwined lives. And so because of that Harry was sure this meant something.

When the restaurant was shut down and the servers were calling it a night, Y/n was clearing the table and refilling the last of the wine for everyone. She was told not to rush them, and she had no intention of doing so. She was enjoying the table. Everyone was polite and easy to please. There were no difficult requests or off-the-wall dietary restrictions.

Though Harry was particular with his order (the man was clearly eating strictly healthy which made sense given the state of his body, which she was quite acquainted with) it was easy to accommodate. Plus his presence had set her in a good mood. He was gentle and sweet and everyone in his party was the same.

And the way Harry kept looking at her, as if he knew something she didn’t somehow… a teasing grin, slightly stifled… she was all nerves and butterflies and big smiles. It had been an amazing night at work. It hardly felt like work at all.

Exiting the bathroom after a much-needed bladder release she walked up the hallway but was stopped short when she heard his voice, “What are you doing after you get off?”

His deep rasp had her tummy boiling as she turned and saw him leaning against the frame where the hallway met the corner of the entry to the kitchen. Stepping back toward him she looked up at his sharp green eyes and shook her head, “Going home.”

That smirk, the one that hid what he was really thinking deep down slowly widened until he was grinning full-on, “Where’s home?”

Looking behind her and then over his shoulder to make sure no one was nearby she squinted her eyes at him, “Why do you want to know?”

Harry sighed and softened his stance, putting his arms down to his sides, “Because. I was gonna ask a follow-up question and figured it might be important to know if my place is closer or yours.”

She let out a soft laugh in surprise and now her ears were growing warm, “At this hour… A fifteen-minute drive away.”

Harry nodded and reached a hand out to her apron, pulling gently at the bow, “Got it. Would you be interested in having me over tonight?”

Cocking her head and keeping her eyes squinted in scrutiny she responded, “And why would you want to come over to my place?”

She felt like this was obvious. She could have answered this question on her own. But she wanted to hear it from him. Wanted to be sure she was on the same page as him.

He leaned in and lowered his voice, keeping a finger looped into her apron’s bow, “Seeing you tonight has reminded me of how much fun we had. I know I said it was only a one-time thing but maybe we could make it a two-time thing,” he smiled broadly and shrugged.

Harry was a confident guy. He wasn’t typically turned down. In fact, on the rare occasion he was turned down it usually had nothing to do with him. So he was pretty sure Y/n would be happy to have him. But even as sure of himself as he felt, he was feeling his nerves peak at the idea she would say no.

“A two-time thing. Okay… well I do have a roommate. His bedroom is connected to the wall next to mine. Privacy is an issue. If you’re okay with that then I’d say… sure.”

Harry let out a laugh through his nose, though it was more out of relief than due to anything being funny, “What makes you think I want to be in your bedroom? Maybe I just wanted to stop by for a movie. Or we could bake cookies or something.”

Harry laughed at the obvious nonsense he’d just spewed. They both knew what this was.

“Oh? So you want to like watch a movie and bake some shit? I’m down with that. I don’t think I have the ingredients to make cookies or anything but I’m sure we could stop somewhere and grab flour–“

Harry pinched at her hip and stepped in close, “I was kidding…”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to laugh before she straightened her back as much as possible and put on a serious face. With his proximity, she was bent slightly back to look up at him, “You were? So you mean you don’t want to bake cookies with me?”

Harry’s grin and his hands at her hips were soft, “I don’t want to bake cookies with you. I want to get you in bed again.”

Well okay. There it was. She knew that’s what it was but to hear him say it out loud had her head spinning and her heart pounding.

She nodded, “Right. So… how do we do it? You want me to drive or…?”

Harry shook his head with a laugh, “Give me your number.”

.           .           .

Harry and his crew left before Y/n did. She’d given him her number and he texted her back right away. It was surreal. Just like how she felt the first time she met him. She almost didn’t believe it was happening.

Vyra was cold for the rest of the night but after the huge tip left, Y/n could understand why. Harry’s table had been her only table of the night. Her shift was only four hours but they stayed the entire time. She figured Vyra knew that some celebrities tipped well and wanted in on that.

In fact, the tip had been so big she had to sit down when she realized the number written in the tip line with a small smiley face next to it. She’d have a talk to Harry about this. It was far more than necessary. Even after splitting the tips up between the kitchen and the bussers in the system, it left her with enough money to cover rent and all her bills for a month. Yeah. Excessive.

She texted Harry the minute she parked her car in front of her house. It was well after midnight. She wasn’t sure he’d actually come, still in disbelief about it all. The fact that he was there and that she was assigned to that table felt like pure luck. Fate if you believed in that kind of thing. Which she didn’t. Not normally anyway.

His return text came back quickly.

On my way.

Quickly showering off her sweat and the smell of cooked food then shaving her legs she tried to calm herself down. The night with Harry in the hotel room she’d been perfectly groomed and ready for anything that might happen. Not that she expected it that night, but one never knows. Going to a Harry Styles concert and having the chance to catch his eye wasn’t something she’d half-ass. She never in a million years would have thought he’d have pointed her out while he was singing and then proceed to bring her back to his suite. But he did.

And this evening, she wasn’t fully groomed but smooth legs and clean bits were the least she could offer in such a short amount of time. She laughed to herself as she thought about it all. Wondered if he’d even care if she was a little sweaty. She wasn’t going to chance it.

When he texted that he was out front she took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror one last time just to be sure before dashing to the front door as quietly as possible (so as not to wake Brad) to let the famous pop star into her small, rented bungalow.

She gestured to Harry with a finger to keep quiet, “My roommate is sleeping. Do you need water? The bathroom?”

Harry’s grin revealed that he needed only one thing. And neither had anything to do with what she’d just offered.

“I take it no baking cookies, then?”

They grinned at each other as she led him to her room.

Her bedroom was cute. She had cream curtains that draped down to the floor, a wooden dresser with a framed photo of Y/n with her family atop, a coaster from a local bar, a box that appeared to be a jewelry case, and a carton of tissues. Her bed was made and the comforter looked fluffy with a pretty pink and yellow flower pattern all over it. Framed prints of plants and flowers on her walls and a standing lamp in one corner. A closed door, which was definitely hiding a closet behind. A nightstand on either side of her bed.

“Cute,” Harry spoke as he looked everything over and then brought his gaze back to the woman he’d been fantasizing about since their last night together.

“Yeah. Uh… this is it.” She shrugged and felt her tummy warm up under his scrutiny. He was staring at her and she knew he was there for one thing only.

Sitting on her bed she sighed and attempted to lighten the mood, “So… that tip was way too big, Harry. I can’t possibly accept such a thing. I don’t think–“

Harry shushed her as he sat down and took her hand in his, “Nonsense. You are an amazing server and deserve every penny of that. Probably more even.”

His light eyes were scalding. Every inch of skin he took in she felt sizzle.

“Thank you. Just feels weird. Especially now that you’re here…” she laughed quietly.

“Now that I’m here? What do you mean?” His fingers wound into hers, his thumb moving along the edge of her hand. Such an innocent gesture, giving her goosebumps. Though she was well aware his intentions weren’t innocent.

“I mean… Like you just gave me a bunch of money and now you’re in my bedroom,” she smiled and tried to maintain eye contact but it was hard with how gorgeous he was.

“This is separate from that, Y/n. You should know that. I just missed you which is why I wanted to come here. You’re just really good,” he looked at the bed and then back to her, “You know… in this setting.” He grinned wide.

“In this setting?” She laughed at his words and shook her head.

The grin dropped from Harry’s face as he brought his free hand up to cup her jaw, “Can I kiss you? I missed these lips so much. I’ve been thinking of them since that first time with you.”

Nodding her head she felt him pull at her thigh just as his lips found hers.

Things had shifted since the last time she saw him. Somehow it felt a little different. Maybe more intimate in some way. It was probably because they were in her bedroom rather than a hotel suite, and this was the second time they’d be seeing each other in this context. But there was something else there too. She was feeling… less sure of herself. She still had the confidence she needed to kiss him back and unbutton his shirt, but unlike last time when she was feeling very forward, this time something kept her slightly reserved.

And Harry noted her softer demeanor. He didn’t mind it, though. In fact, this time he was feeling like he wanted to show her how good he could be. Give her a taste of him taking the lead and maybe have her begging him a bit. He was in a bit of a mood that night. He was glad that he saw her in the restaurant because it’d been a month since he’d gotten laid (and it just so happened the last person he’d had sex with was Y/n) and she was the only girl he could think of that would scratch the itch he had.

Y/n was pressed back into the mattress as Harry pulled her sweatpants off, “Do you want to feel good, Y/n?”

She nodded and puffed a laugh out, “Well… yeah…” She thought that was an obvious answer and the way she responded told Harry she was mocking him.

Harry paused the movements of his hands as he stuck his fingers into her panty’s waistband. He cocked his brow up at her in warning before he popped her thigh with a smack. She laughed and sat up with her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Behave. I was just asking a question. Wanna try that answer again?”

She swallowed and blinked her eyes, “Yes, Harry. I want to feel good.” She smirked at him. Her answer was still lined with cheek but he’d give her a pass. He wanted to see her.

He smiled and nodded before proceeding to pull her panties down her legs, “Good. Because that’s what we’re here for. To feel good. Take your shirt off for me.”

Y/n was relieved that Harry seemed to pick up where she was lacking. She didn’t know what had her feeling so permissive but they seemed to be on the same page. She peeled her shirt off over her head and Harry spread her legs apart, fitting himself in between her thighs.

He was still mostly dressed. His shirt was unbuttoned and his jeans were undone. Both Y/n’s doing, but that was as far as it had gone with getting him out of his clothes before he stopped her and began to tell her he was going to get her naked.

“Can you take your bra off too? Need it all off.” He waved his hand toward her chest as he directed his sight to the space between her thighs. It felt so vulnerable to have him clothed while she was naked. But she did as he said and removed her bra for him.

The dim lamp in her room kept everything visible. Harry could tell she was already a bit wet. The gleam peeking out from her labia had his tummy on fire. He couldn’t wait to feel her again. Slip his cock right in and drive into her. He imagined he’d need to keep her mouth covered while he was fucking her to keep her quiet because he recalled how loud she was the first time they’d been together.

But before he could indulge himself in feeling the juicy stretch of her around him, he was determined to have her come in his mouth and on his fingers first. She didn’t orgasm when he ate her out the last time and that was something that stuck with him. He had nowhere to be the following morning and given that it was a Sunday he figured she was free as well so they could play for a lot longer this time around. Not that that stopped them from having a good romp and then a quick fuck in the morning the last time, but he planned to take his sweet time with her now.

He smoothed his hands up her thighs and licked his lips, “I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy until you come and then if you’re still well behaved maybe I’ll let you taste my cock for a bit before I fuck you. How’s that sound?”

She nodded and moaned softly, “Mmm… That sounds so good.”

Harry smiled and pressed his thumb over her clit and gently began to rub back and forth, “It does doesn’t it? I missed this with you, angel. Can’t believe I thought it was just going to be the one time. Seems as though fate had a different idea.”

She scrunched her brows and an ooh feel from her mouth at the feel of his thumb on her clit and his soft words.

Harry leaned over her body, the fabric of his shirt dragging over her tummy as he dipped down to wrap his mouth around her pebbled nipple. She craned her neck back into the soft pillow and sighed at the feel of him on her. His lips on her breast and his thumb on her wet nub.

By the time he’d licked and sucked the expanse of both of her breasts, she was completely on edge. On fire. His teasing thumb gently rolling her clit back and forth was making her lose it.

“Fuck… please, Harry,” she whispered as she stuffed her fingers into his hair. He lifted off her breast and looked up at her, “What is it, angel? Please what?”

“I just… I want you to fuck me. Now.”

Harry sat back onto his haunches and looked at where his hand was at her pussy. All wet and shiny for him, “What did I say?” He looked back into her eyes, “Don’t you remember what I said I was gonna do first?”

She let out a shaky breath, “I do. I just thought you could skip it if you wanted. Really want to feel you again.”

He kept his thumb working her clit as he groaned, “I want to feel you too. But I have to have a go at you first. Want to put my mouth right here,” he slid his thumb upward and pressed down, “and make you come.”

Her tongue poked out from her lips as she kept her mouth parted. Heavy lids and wiggly hips.

Harry loved the way she looked. Like she was ready for whatever was to come. She was desperate for him and he already had her saying please. He loved a little begging when he could get it.

“Little tongue coming out to say hello,” he reached forward and pressed his finger onto her pink muscle and she immediately wrapped her lips around his digit. His own mouth dropped open at her desperation. Her tongue pressed into the pad of his finger and she sucked him in.

“Shit, angel. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good. Okay? Don’t worry.”

He felt her lift upward into his hand and he got the hint. She needed something.

Pulling his finger out of her mouth and taking his hand from her pussy he pulled his shirt off over his shoulders and knelt down, pressing his fingers through her crease, coating his digits in her slippery essence.

He looked up at her face as he plunged two fingers into her hole and then lowered his mouth over her cunt and she bellowed loudly before putting her arm over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She’d have to keep herself in check with the noises but her concern about Brad being right next to her room was slowly dissolving.

Harry chuckled into her labia as his tongue slipped up and down, lapping at her arousal.

It was soft but every time he puckered his lips and ran his tongue up and down her clit she felt a spark lighting up her insides.

Her moans were muffled under her arm. But she was so wet that everything in her room sounded exactly like what was happening. Harry’s lips and tongue and fingers moved through her wet labia and creamy arousal and she wished she could record the sounds to listen to later.

Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest and he curled his fingers and dragged the tips along her soft ridges on the inside. He flattened his tongue over her clit and slurped before quickly sweeping his tongue back and forth. Her little squeak was a good sign. He smiled.

When he felt her fingers in his hair, pulling gently she began to roll her hips into his face. He lifted up to take a look at her as much as he could with her fingers on his head. She was gorgeous. Her wet pussy was smeared all over his face, her tits swayed softly as she arched and writhed, her hair was splayed out across her pillow, soft thighs parted.

Then he noticed the way she was fucking herself down onto his fingers. Her hips began to move faster and her pathetic mewls were falling muffled from her mouth.

Harry lowered his lips back to her pussy and she sighed in relief. But he only applied a sloppy kiss to her mound before looking back up at her. He moved his free hand up her body and pushed her arm off her face, tilting his head up to speak, “Keep your eyes on me, angel. You can be a good girl stay quiet. I know you can,” he pumped his fingers into her as he spoke against her pussy in hot breaths.

She adjusted her body slightly, using the pillow to help keep her neck angled so she could watch him. To keep her eyes on his. She gasped and tried to stifle her moans as she watched him dig in with his whole face.

His pretty green eyes were mostly pupil, dark with only the edges of crystal green surrounding. She put her other hand into his hair and cradled the back of his head. The hand he wasn’t using to finger her had her thigh held down, his fingers pinching into her soft skin.

But then he used his tongue to move quickly back and forth over her clit while thrusting his fingers deep, curling into the right spot. And there was something about his eyes watching her that made her flush hot. His steady gaze seeped into her brain and wrapped itself around all those bits that supplied dopamine and caused a craving that would be hard to shake.

His fingers were stuffed so deep inside of her that she knew he must be getting his knuckles drenched. Probably his whole hand given how wet everything sounded. The bend of his fingers inside of her and the pressure on her clit, when he sucked her, pulled a loud groan from her lungs. But it didn’t stop him from continuing the sloppy lapping and slurping.

Pulling his hair tighter between her fingers she bucked her hips into his face and tried to close her legs slightly by instinct. Harry kept her one thigh pressed down hard and he used his shoulder to hold her other side down.

She cried out, “Oh god!” And threw her head back, removing her eyes from Harry’s just as she felt the spark turn into a harsh current that began to tip her into the edge of her orgasm. She knew it had been too loud. Knew that it might have woken up her housemate but she was too far away from caring about that just then. Her pussy was being snacked on in a way she’d never experienced in her life.

Harry dug himself in deeper when he could tell she was close. Her loud cry and the quiver of her thighs were a good sign. He kept at what he was doing and looked up at her soft tits as she arched her back and moaned his name.

When she began to clamp down on his fingers and her moans moved into a steady stream of whining and whimpering and her muscles tensed he knew he’d gotten her to come finally. He allowed her to have her eyes closed because he could tell it was intense. He’d have her watching him next time he made her come on his cock.

Which reminded him of what sort of state he was in. His hard dick was painfully achy. But the anticipation for what was to come had him reeling as he licked her through to her end, keeping his fingers inside of her, working her until she slowed her hips and loosened the grip on his curls.

He sat back, grabbing her hands from his hair, and looked over his handiwork. Her pussy was ready to be fucked. She was ripe for more. He knew she’d be good for another orgasm. Her body was made for this.

When she finally opened her eyes she giggled as he leaned over her frame. His face was all wet. His chin, his cheeks, and his nose were shiny with her. She followed him with her eyes as he climbed over her.

Somewhere in between her coming and right then, he’d removed his pants and boxer briefs. His cock hung heavy over her face, “Open.”

She was flat on her back as she opened her mouth for him, reaching a hand up to grasp the base of his cock to guide him to her mouth. She felt his warm tip against her lip, the smear of his precome and her slippery arousal wetting the edge of her mouth before she wrapped her lips around him.

The groan he let out was the sound of pure sex. She had barely done a thing but she was already smiling to herself at the way she made him whine.

Harry held onto the headboard with one hand and used his other to grasp the back of her head as he pushed himself down into her throat. He’d only dip in a few times. Make her swallow and gag around him once her twice because he wanted to fuck her. Wanted to feel her again.

She closed her eyes when Harry’s tip dragged against the back of her throat. He pumped himself into her a few times and she swallowed as she gagged around him. The whimper he let out made her brain swirl. She was thoroughly enjoying having her throat fucked. He wasn’t going in too hard but he was taking control of her and dipping in until she was coughing and drooling.

He pulled himself out and looked down at her, moving his hand up to her cheek with a grin, “My god, angel. Just so fucking perfect.”

She was still catching her breath. From her orgasm, from having his cock in her throat, from the intensity of the moment…

She could hear him ripping the condom wrapper open before he was back in view. He sat between her legs on his haunches as he softly moved his palms over her thighs and up to her hips, “Gonna give me another one? Come on cock this time?”

She planted her gaze on his and nodded, “Yes…” her words were a whisper.

The cheeky grin Harry returned to her had her heart fluttering. He was so painfully attractive she felt like this was all a dream.

“Good. Need you to keep your eyes on me this time, okay?” He paused as she nodded, “Want to watch your face when I make you come. Might have to cover your mouth if you get too loud like you just were. Is that okay?”

Another quick nod and a moan told him she was on board.

Harry moved his hands up her sides, pressing his fingers into her soft skin and up to her breasts, kneading at them for a moment before lining himself up to her hole, “Look at me.”

They kept their eyes locked as he slowly pressed in past her tight opening. Harry knew that if they went without a condom he might come inside of her and not want to pull out. If she felt as good as she did with a condom, he knew he’d be falling in love and down on one knee if he felt her without.

Her puffy, juicy pussy was taking him in just as he remembered. He had to work himself in and out a bit before he finally got himself into her balls deep. He would have loved to tuck himself in further but he was halted from his thick, full balls.

“Feel that, angel?” He groaned quietly as she nodded nodded in gasps. “Yeah? It’s so fucking deep, isn’t it? Love the way you spread open for me,” he rocked into her and pulled back, listening to the slick sounds it made.

He put his palms on the mattress with his body leaned over hers, using his strong back and thighs to fuck into her as deep as he could. He just wanted to be stuffed inside of her guts, fucking into her as far as humanly possible. And she felt that too. It was deep. The sharp ache made her keen but the drag of his pelvis against her clit felt otherworldly.

Her thighs were pushed back, bent at the knee as Harry laid himself into her over and over again. Thick, deep, languid strokes.

“Ahhhh!” She cried when he smacked into her, pushing her upward slightly.

Harry groaned and kept his eyes on hers, “Yeah? It’s that good, huh? Gonna have to cover your mouth now because I’m about to go a little harder.” She wanted harder. Liked soft too, but hard stuck around for days. Loved the feeling of having her pussy fucked so good she was reminded of it later on. Just like the first time they were together. She felt him every time she sat down or stood up for two days. Felt the leftover ache on her thighs and the burn on her bottom.

Harry angled himself down, pushing her thighs apart further with one hand and covering her mouth with his other. And his sudden punishing thrusts had her eyes going wide. It hadn’t been expected so quickly but he got right to it.

He could feel the vibrations of her moans against his palm as he buried himself in and pulled back to his tip before he hammered back into her repeatedly. Long, deep, fast strokes.

She was already rolling her eyes into the back of her head. He wanted her to watch him but he’d give her a small break and make her open them when she was coming. He wanted to watch her face and her eyes as she reached her peak.

Her bed creaked and the springs danced loudly. Muffled sounds of moans and the wet slap of skin filled her bedroom. Harry didn’t necessarily want her roommate to hear them but he did enjoy all the noises that came with sex. And in all honesty, they were both being as quiet as possible given how hard he was fucking her.

His thighs burned from the thrusts and his back muscles held himself steady over her, “Listen to that, angel. Our bodies connecting like that. How wet you are for me…” he moaned his words as he watched her face screw up in ecstasy. Her muted noises were stifled with his palm as he wrecked her insides.

She felt every inch of him taking her. Every slip and thrust, drag and pull, every deep nudge inside… She opened her eyes to see him already looking down at her and she nearly lost it. His hair was in his face, curls swaying, sweat building at his temples, his arms were flexing as he held himself up over her, his chest flushed and glistening from the intensity of his thrusts into her. He was so strong and so overpowering she felt like a rag doll under him flopping and grunting under his hand. She was just a hole to fuck as she clenched down on him when he pasted his hips to hers and rocked inward sharply.

“Keep those eyes open, angel. I can tell you’re about to come on my cock and I need you to look at me so you know who’s making you come,” he spoke his words through gasped breaths as he pushed into her deeply, slowing his thrusts so he could control his own orgasm. He was too close and he knew she was nearly there.

He rocked his hips into hers he ground himself down when he stuffed himself in fully, making sure her clit was being smushed against for friction. Repeatedly he fucked her little hole with slow plunges and smoothed against her clit. Every time he screwed into her to the hilt he felt his balls pressing into her bum, being wetted by her creamy arousal. He keened at the feel of her around him. Every little ridge of her insides taking him in like they were made for that very thing had him spinning.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth. He wanted to see her whole face as he fucked into her. Wanted to watch her mouth drop open as she creamed on his cock when she came, wanted to hear her cries, fuck anyone else that might hear. In that moment it was all about his angel and how good she was feeling. All he cared about was that she was being taken care of and that he was making her feel as good as she deserved.

“Harry, please… oh my god please…” she gasped as she clung tight to his back. His cock inside of her felt full and had her walls tingling and fluttering. She was reeling with pleasure and having him inside of her. Never wanted that feeling to go away. If she could bottle it up and take it with her she would. So she tried to stave off her orgasm for a moment longer.

“Begging me, baby? Want to come so bad don’t you? But it feels so good like this doesn’t it?” He used a hand to hold the side of her face as if he were being gentle with her. As if he wasn’t fucking into her deep with harsh ruts inward that had her gasping for air. His words and his soft touches and his hard cock were doing her in.

She tried. She really did. She wanted to have him fucking her like that for hours but she couldn’t hold on any longer. She began to moan, starting with a low, quiet sound, until she was crying out his name and shaking under him.

She kept her eyes open but found the task difficult as she started to come. And she realized that watching Harry while she came only intensified her orgasm. Her head swirled with his handsome face hovering over hers, looking directly at her as he made her come felt like she was being dominated in a way that she’d never experienced. He hadn’t tied her up or whipped her or anything like that, but it was the sensation of being watched while she was coming that made her feel like he was taking control. The experience of having the man who was making her come as he looked down at her at that moment felt like he’d claimed her as his. He was watching his own work come to fruition and it was a dominant act.

“Fuck, angel. Just like that. Come all over me. She me how good it feels.”

Y/n babbled an unintelligible response and moaned around her syllables and vowels. She didn’t know what she was saying as she forced her eyes to stay on his.

And it had been worth it to keep her eyes open when she saw Harry’s face pinch up and his mouth drop open. She could hear his groan and the harsh thuds into her cunt before he stilled and clenched his teeth as his cock throbbed inside of her. He was coming and she got to see it on the tail end of her own orgasm and it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

“Ahhh!” He panted as he sucked in a deep breath and choked out a loud moan. The release was heaven. He came so hard he wondered if it could be possible to leak out of his condom. He pumped and throbbed and worked himself to his end as he looked down at the pretty angel under him all fucked out and smiley on his cock.

His chest heaved as he twitched the last little bit and his features relaxed on the comedown. He kept himself over her as he began to smile, “You okay?”

She was melted below him, a soft smile on her lips as she nodded, “So fucking good. Oh my god…” she whispered.

Harry gently pulled himself off of her and checked to verify that he hadn’t in fact leaked out of his condom before pulling it off and tossing it onto the floor. He’d deal with the cleanup later. In that moment he needed to hold her and kiss her for a while.

She felt her body pulled against his and then his lips caressing over hers. Soft and reassuring. Her orgasm had been intense. Maybe the most incredible orgasm she’d ever had. The eye contact was something she hadn’t expected. She thought it would feel silly. At first, it made her feel vulnerable but when she could tell how much he needed it, needed her eyes on his it felt like a rush. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she came so hard.

She kissed him back and put her hands up to his shoulders. Lazy and soft and sweet.

Harry pushed his nose into hers and spoke softly, “That was really, really good, Y/n. You don’t mind if I stay the night here, do you?”

Shaking her head she scraped her nails against the nape of his neck, “I want you to stay. Please.”

.           .           .

Waking up in her bed with Harry next to her felt like a wild fantasy. She considered pinching herself as she fluttered her eyes open and saw his sleeping face smushed into her pillow. The night before he’d been a sex god. A man so fine with a masculine and well-muscled body that he made her mouth water and her clit throb. He’d fucked her so good and it was so hot it gave her goosebumps just thinking about it. But there he was lying in her bed asleep, pink lips and glossy eyelids, small puffs of breath coming from his nose, and adorably messy hair. She couldn’t quite wrap her brain around how he went from the man who took control of her the night before to the soft, cute, sleeping beauty the very next morning.

He asked if he could stay. Said he wanted to be with her a little longer. And that was the part that really stuck with her. Sure he was handsome and then some. They got along so well and everything felt so compatible with him. And that was a problem. Because he wasn’t just some guy. This was Harry Styles. She couldn’t go getting her feeling too mixed up in everything. But he made it hard with the way he treated her and handled her. Like they’d known one another for an eternity.

On their first night together it was clear that what they were doing was just something fun and that was it. Which she was fine with. She happily accepted his terms then. Just as she happily said yes to him staying the night this time. Whatever he wanted she was fine with it. Well, she hoped she’d be fine. Because she was sure he’d never get his feelings mixed up with sex when it came to her.

Gently putting her fingers into his hair she saw his eyelids move and then slowly he graced her with his gorgeous eyes and then a soft smile.

He didn’t say anything before he dragged her the short distance to rest her head on the pillow his head was on and kissed her.

And it went from a quiet soft morning make out to Harry’s erection poking into her hip and then scrambling for a condom with messy hair and soft sighs to a slow break of day fuck.

The springs in her bed bounced gently with every thrust of his hips. Harry kept his mouth glued to hers as he drove into her soft, wet pussy. All of her blankets had been kicked to the floor in a rush for the condom and switching positions on the bed and now it was just two bodies at the center finding relief and catching an early orgasm before their day began.

Harry rocked into her, his cock so hard and thick she felt every single inch of him moving into her and slipping back before he languidly pushed in until his hips met hers. She had her ankles crossed over his back and Harry had one hand cradling the back of her head, his mouth covering hers while his other forearm kept himself held up slightly, his chest against hers.

She gasped under him, reaching for breath every time he thrust into her. His own panting grew more desperate and soon the first sound of his voice was heard for the day, a whimpered moan falling from his throat as he felt her walls taking him in with a decadent squeeze and wet squelch.

Morning sex was always Y/n’s favorite, but it turned out it was Harry’s too. It was less fussy really. Just two tired bodies wanting to connect and feel pleasure in the golden morning light. No preamble or big to-do. Just soft morning sex and a delicious orgasm to get the day started off right.

The moment Y/n’s moan grew loud and Harry felt her cunt spasming and pulling him in deeply he let go, spurting into his condom and licking into her mouth as he throbbed in ecstasy.

And just like the night before and the first night she’d spent with him, she was amazed. Maybe it was the shape of his cock or their natural chemistry. Or maybe it was just Harry, but somehow the sex with him was beyond just good sex. She was going to be haunted by this man.

When he pulled out he held her thighs apart and lapped at her gently, just for a taste. Just to enjoy one more little squeal from her throat, which she immediately gifted him.

“Harry stop! I’m too sensitive!” She pushed at his forehead and he smiled up at her before collapsing onto the bed next to her.

He hated navigating relationships because being famous already put his life under a microscope. Most of the time it wasn’t worth it to keep seeing someone for sex unless it was a person he knew feelings would never be a problem with, and they could both have the understanding that it was just sex. But that was rare for him. Harry was all or nothing with sex usually. It was either a one-time deal or he’d want a long-term committed relationship. And the latter was complicated for someone with his lifestyle. His last long-term relationship was something he’d take with him forever. He considered it a lesson learned. And for him that meant needing to be very picky and selective about whom he let into his heart.

No more mixing business with pleasure and then taking on the guilt of having a public break-up. No more women with super complicated lives that he could get mixed up into.

He felt like he was treading dangerously with Y/n. He didn’t want to hurt her and he didn’t want to get himself hurt either. But he could see himself being with someone like her. He liked her spice and her straightforward demeanor. She was confident and funny. She wasn’t the type that he’d be able to keep his feelings separated from the sex with. He was already getting attached.

“What?” He asked her. She was lying next to him, they were sharing a pillow and she had a small smirk on her face as she gazed over his features.

“Nothing. It’s stupid,” her grin didn’t fall off her face.

Harry brought a hand up to her jaw and he thumbed gently toward her temple, “Tell me. I like stupid sometimes,” he laughed.

She bit her lip and looked away from him for a few moments before putting her eyes back on his, “Your song, Watermelon Sugar. It’s about cunnilingus?” Her smile widened feeling ridiculous asking him such a question but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Ever since the night before when he made her come from eating her out (a rarity for her) and then that morning after they’d had sex when he went in for a quick lick.

Harry laughed and nodded, “I guess. Yeah. Why?”

“Cause you just seem to really like it.”

Harry took in a deep breath and moved his hand down her side, “I love it. Is that okay?”

She looked at him like he was crazy, “Of course it is. Very much so.”

She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Harry had been fun and sweet. And to know that this famous man could have anyone he wanted yet he chose to spend the night with her felt like something quite special. Something she wouldn’t get the chance to do ever again. To have him in bed at all was a crazy notion. But to have it happen twice?

“I want to see you again. When I get back to LA in a couple of months. Is that okay?” He said as he pulled her in for a hug before they left her bedroom. His car was waiting for him.

His words shocked her. Again?

“Oh. Yeah… Sure. That would be fun.” She was surprised. Stunned. If he wanted to see her again what did that mean? Was he thinking of her as more than just someone to have sex with?

“Well, geez. You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it,” he laughed as he pulled back from the hug.

Shaking her head she grinned, “Just didn’t expect you to want to see me again. You’re gonna be gone for months. I mean… I’d love to. Of course. But you know… No pressure.”

“Of course, there’s no pressure. I’m just saying I’d like to see you again if you’re free when I return to LA. That’s all.”

Letting out the breath she’d held in she nodded, “Yes, Harry. I’d really like that.”

Harry smiled softly and put a hand up to her face to press his palm over her cheek as he looked her over, “Gonna miss you, angel. Wish I could take you with me.”

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[srslyblvck]

the devil you know, avengers

pairing: avengers x fem!reader, bucky x fem!reader

synopsis: the avengers seem really desperate as they come to you—the person who went under their skin like no one else to help them win against hydra. while they are walking on eggshells around you, you are having fun causing chaos.

warnings: mentions of y/n (maybe), blood, violence, gore

word count: 3k

chapter: 4/?

author's note: so, i have decided it will be a bucky fanfic but don't worry i might've a Tony fanfic in my drafts ;) even though its a bucky fanfic, it won't circle around him. i will sprinkle a few interactions in between :)

series masterlist

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE AVENGERS' MEETING ROOM was packed, the atmosphere heavy with the usual intensity that came with mission briefings. You sauntered in last, as usual, cuffs still secured around your wrists, a casual smirk plastered on your face. Tony had his holographic display already up, and Steve was standing at the head of the table, arms crossed, as they reviewed the details of the next mission.

You’d done this a thousand times before. You’d faced Hydra bases, taken down their agents, and laughed in the face of danger. Fear? That was for other people.

But the second the image of the Hydra base appeared on the screen, your stomach twisted into knots. The layout of the building, the way the halls curled around each other like a labyrinth—it all looked too familiar.

Your grin faltered, and for the first time in a long while, you felt something you hadn’t felt in years. Not since… that day.

Tony pointed at the map, his voice sounding distant as he explained the base’s location. “It’s buried deep underground, north of the border in an old military bunker. It’s heavily guarded, but that’s not the problem. The problem is—”

You weren’t listening. You couldn’t. You were too busy staring at the base. That base.

The place where the old you had died.

Hydra had been holding you there for years. Torturing you. Experimenting on you until you weren’t even sure who you were anymore. The person you’d once been, the version of you that might’ve had hope, that might’ve cared about anything, had died in that place. And the one who had survived, the one sitting in this room now? That person had been born in blood and pain.

You hadn’t thought about it in years. You’d buried it deep, locked it away, but now, seeing the base on the screen, it all came flooding back. The hallways where you’d been dragged, beaten, starved. The room where the experiments had been done. The man—him—the one who had orchestrated it all. He had been your tormentor, your creator. Your weakness.

He was probably the only person who could still make you feel fear. And that terrified you.

Steve’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “This is where we go in,” he said, pointing to a section of the map. You didn’t catch any of the details—your mind was still replaying the past, flashing images of dark hallways, sterile rooms, and the sensation of cold steel against your skin.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You were barely aware of the fact that you were gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen. You felt trapped in that place all over again, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang as Bucky slammed his metal hand on the table.

You jerked back, startled out of your trance, blinking rapidly as your vision cleared. Everyone was staring at you. Steve, Tony, Natasha—hell, even Clint was giving you that curious side-eye. The room was silent, the weight of their gazes pressing down on you like a thousand pounds.

You tried to compose yourself, forcing the cocky smirk back onto your face. “What?” you said, leaning back in your chair, feigning nonchalance. “Did I miss the part where we sing Kumbaya?”

Steve didn’t buy it. His jaw tightened, and he exchanged a glance with Natasha, who raised an eyebrow in your direction.

Bucky, still glaring, leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You zoned out. Hard.”

You shrugged, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Just... reminiscing. You know how it is with Hydra. They always bring back fond memories.”

Steve wasn’t convinced. He crossed his arms, looking at you with that unflinching stare. “Are you ready for this or not?”

The question hit harder than it should have. You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell them all that this was a mistake, that going back there would dig up too many ghosts, too many memories. But you couldn’t let them see. You couldn’t let them know. If they found out about your past with Hydra—about the things they had done to you—they’d ask questions. They’d get too close.

And there was no way in hell you were letting them get close.

You stared at Steve, then glanced back at the picture of the base on the screen. The layout seemed to pulse in front of your eyes, like it was pulling you back into the past. You swallowed the rising anxiety, forcing it down. You weren’t that person anymore. You weren’t weak. Not anymore.

“Yeah,” you finally said, your voice more controlled than you felt. “I’m ready.”

Steve studied you for a moment longer, clearly sensing something off, but eventually, he gave a short nod. “Good. We leave tomorrow.”

The meeting resumed, and everyone turned their attention back to the mission briefing. But you weren’t listening. You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread gnawing at your insides, the quiet terror that had settled in the back of your mind.

You just hoped, when the time came, you’d be able to face your past and make it out alive.

For now, you leaned back in your chair, your sarcastic mask firmly in place, and tried to ignore the fear bubbling just beneath the surface. You couldn't afford to break. Not in front of them.

Not yet.

The quinjet’s engines hummed steadily as the Avengers flew toward the Hydra base, cutting through the dark sky like a blade. Normally, this would be your moment—the time where you'd fill the air with your trademark sarcasm, toss around a few cocky remarks, and maybe needle Tony about something inconsequential. But this time, you were silent.

Dead silent.

You sat in the back, eyes fixed downward, not moving. Not even a twitch. The cuffs around your wrists felt heavier than usual, as if the very act of wearing them was pulling you down, anchoring you in a place you desperately didn’t want to be.

The others noticed, of course. They always noticed.

Natasha glanced at you from the cockpit, her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. “What’s up with her?” she muttered to Clint, who sat next to her.

Clint shook his head. “I don’t know, but she's being way too quiet for my liking. Last time she was this quiet, she blew up half a building.”

“Maybe she's cooking something up,” Sam chimed in, his voice low, leaning closer to Tony, who was seated in front of him. “she always have some scheme brewing.”

Tony didn’t respond immediately, but he shot you a glance, noticing the way you hadn’t said a word since boarding the jet. That wasn’t like you. Not at all.

“Yeah,” Tony finally said, keeping his voice low so the others could hear. “She's too still. It’s weird.”

Steve, standing near the ramp, kept his eyes forward but spoke under his breath to Bucky. “You think something’s wrong?”

Bucky watched you carefully, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of your demeanour. You weren’t slouched in your usual carefree pose. You weren’t grinning or making any sarcastic comments. You were… withdrawn. Bucky frowned. “Maybe. She's not acting like herself.”

You didn’t hear their whispers. Or maybe you did, but it didn’t matter. Your mind was far away, lost in a haze of memories and dread. The Hydra base loomed ahead, growing closer by the second, and with it came the gnawing sense of fear you thought you'd buried long ago. The closer you got, the tighter your chest felt, the more your hands itched for something—anything—to cling to. But instead, you just stayed still.

Too still.

When the quinjet finally touched down outside the base, everyone moved into action, gathering their gear and making final preparations. But you just sat there for a moment longer, staring blankly at the floor. It wasn’t until the others started filing out that you finally stood up, moving with a slow, deliberate pace.

And then, something even stranger happened.

You didn’t ask Natasha for a gun. No quips about “aesthetic” or sarcastic remarks about how you preferred to handle things. You just stood up, wordless. There was no smirk, no glint of mischief in your eyes. You barely glanced at the others as they filed out, exchanging concerned glances among themselves.

But just before you reached the ramp, you turned to Tony. His helmet was off, and he was watching you with a curious, almost cautious look. You didn’t meet his gaze right away. Instead, you licked your lips nervously, your eyes darting to the floor before you finally spoke.

“If anything goes south,” you said, your voice quieter than usual, “you’ll be here, right?”

Tony blinked, caught off guard. That wasn’t a question he expected from you. He recovered quickly, though, masking his surprise with his usual sarcasm. “Yeah, of course. Why? Afraid the big, bad Hydra agents are going to rough you up?”

He waited for you to snap back, for the usual banter that followed his remarks, but you didn’t say anything. You just nodded, once, and turned away, disappearing into the shadows before anyone could react.

The rest of the team exchanged glances, confused.

“Okay,” Clint said, adjusting his quiver. “That was weird, right? I’m not the only one who thought that was weird?”

Natasha nodded, eyes narrowed. “Very weird.”

Steve frowned, watching the shadows where you had vanished. “She's not acting like herself.”

Tony, still standing there, stared at the spot where you had stood. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “Something’s off.”

Inside the Hydra base, things should have felt familiar. The usual goons were patrolling, and the security systems were the same old setup Hydra liked to recycle. But tonight, something was different.

You weren’t relaxed. You weren’t playing your usual game of cat-and-mouse with the guards. Instead, every step you took felt heavier than the last. Every movement felt tense, as if the walls themselves were closing in around you.

When the Hydra agents appeared, you took them down quickly—too quickly. Normally, you liked to toy with them, let the shadows dance around their heads before striking. But now? Now, it was all business. No fun, no play. You moved like a machine, dismantling the guards with precision, making sure none of them got close enough to slow you down.

The whole time, your eyes darted to the doors, to the shadows, to any corner where someone might be hiding. Your pulse quickened, and your heart pounded in your chest as you snapped your head toward every tiny sound, every creak in the floor.

Your past was coming back in flashes—glimpses of the room they had kept you in. The cold, sterile environment. The experiments. Him. The man who had stripped away who you used to be. You shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts, trying to stay focused, but it wasn’t working.

You reached the main control room and began downloading the data you had come for. The process was slow, painfully slow. You stood there, back rigid, tapping your foot nervously as the download bar ticked upward. You kept snapping your head at the door every few minutes, expecting someone—or something—to burst through it. Every second felt like an hour, and your nerves were wearing thin.

The download finished with a soft beep, and you quickly removed the drive, pressing your earpiece. “I’ve got the data,” you announced, your voice clipped. “I’m heading back.”

There was a pause on the other end, but eventually, Tony’s voice came through. “Copy that. Bring it in.”

You turned toward the door, gripping the USB drive tightly. The fight was over, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still lurking, waiting. The fear gnawed at you, louder than before.

The door to the control room creaked open, and the sound alone made your heart stop.

He stepped through, calm and composed, just like you remembered. The years hadn’t changed him at all. Same sharp features, same cold eyes. His presence was like a living nightmare come to life, pulling you back to a time you had buried deep. You wanted to move, to act, but you couldn’t.

You were frozen.

He smiled—a slow, knowing smile that sent a shiver down your spine. “Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth and taunting, laced with familiarity. “I had heard the rumors. Seen the news. But I didn’t believe it until now.”

Your hands clenched into fists, and you felt yourself start to shake, the tension creeping up your spine. The shadows around you twitched, eager to react, but you couldn’t summon them. Not now. Not with him standing there.

“I must say, I’m proud of you,” he continued, stepping closer with deliberate, casual movements. “Look at you. Out there, making a name for yourself. I always knew you had potential, but this? This is far beyond what I imagined.” He glanced around the room, then back at you, his smile faltering just a bit. “And yet... what’s this I hear about you working for the Avengers?”

You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the fear clawing its way up your throat. You forced yourself to speak, your voice quieter than you intended. “I’m not working for them.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your defiance. “Oh? Really? Then what are you doing? Tagging along with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, fetching intel for them like a good little soldier?”

“I’m not one of them,” you insisted, but your words lacked the bite you needed them to have.

You wanted to be tough. You wanted to summon the arrogance that you always carried with you. But not now. Not when he was here. He had taken that from you years ago, stripped you of everything, left you as little more than a shell. Even now, years later, with all the power you had gained, all the independence you had clawed back, he could still make you feel small.

He clicked his tongue, stepping closer, and you instinctively took a step back. “Disappointing,” he mused, his voice growing colder. “I trained you better than this. I moulded you into something stronger, something unstoppable. And now look at you—running around, playing hero.”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the anger starting to boil underneath the fear, but you couldn’t act. Not yet.

“You’re not my trainer anymore,” you spat, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

His eyes flashed with something dark, and he stepped forward in a blur, his hand striking out faster than you could react. The blow landed hard against your side, and you stumbled, gasping for breath as the pain radiated through your ribs.

He was on you in an instant, his hand wrapping around your throat, forcing you to the ground with a sickening thud. You could feel the cold, sterile floor beneath your knees, the weight of his hand choking you, keeping you still.

“You think you’re your own person now?” he hissed, kneeling down beside you. He produced a knife from his coat, the blade gleaming under the dim lights of the control room. “Once upon a time, you were my perfect little puppet. You did everything I told you to do. You would’ve slit your own throat if I asked.”

He pressed the flat of the blade against your cheek, and you sucked in a sharp breath, fighting the panic that was rising in your chest. His grip on your neck wasn’t tight enough to kill, but tight enough to make your head spin, tight enough to make you fear that at any moment, he could.

“Now look at you,” he continued, his voice softening almost mockingly. “You think you’re free? You think you’re your own person? Don’t fool yourself.”

You gritted your teeth, your vision swimming as you struggled to breathe. You wanted to fight back, but every fiber of your being felt like it was paralyzed. You could barely move, let alone summon the shadows that had always been at your command.

His grip tightened for just a moment, cutting off your breath entirely, and he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “What do I want? Simple,” he whispered. “I want the world. And I want you back.”

The knife moved, slowly slicing across your cheek, and you felt the sharp sting of the blade cutting into your skin. Warm blood trickled down your face, dripping onto the floor as the pain flared through you.

You bit your lip to keep from crying out, the taste of blood filling your mouth. But before he could do anything else, before the terror could take hold, you vanished.

You reappeared in the quinjet, materializing in the shadows near the back, your sudden presence startling the hell out of Clint and Sam again. But this time, there was no snarky remark, no teasing grin.

You were standing there, silent, trying to catch your breath. Your cheek was bleeding, your neck red and raw, and your lip bruised and swollen. You could barely keep yourself standing. You felt like a shell of yourself, your body aching from where he had struck you.

The others noticed immediately.

Clint stared at you, eyes wide. “What the hell—?”

Sam looked up from his seat, alarmed by the sight of you. “What happened to you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you staggered forward, pulling the USB drive from your pocket and placing it on the table in the center of the jet. Your hand was shaking as you dropped it, and you didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as you turned away, walking silently toward the dark corner of the quinjet.

The others exchanged glances, confused, concerned, trying to piece together what had just happened.

Bucky stepped forward, eyeing the drive, then looking at you. “Who beat you up?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “You never come back like this.”

You didn’t respond. You just stood there, back against the wall, your breath shaky, trying to hold it together. Trying not to let them see how rattled you were. Trying not to let the fear consume you.

They couldn’t know. Not about him. Not about what he could still do to you.

So, you stayed in the shadows, silent, as they all watched you with growing confusion, their whispers filling the quiet, unsure of what had just happened.

dividers by @dollywons

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: Free

Plot: The morning after Y/n and Jamie’s heartbreaking talk, an unexpected savior shows up on Y/n’s door, leaving her at a crossroads.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: f!reader, language, mention of child neglect/abuse, mention of sex

A/N: THIS IS IT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THIS IS THE CHAPTER. I’m so excited for you guys to read this one and have all your questions answered. I hope the payoff is as sweet as you’ve been expecting. Y’all have been so enthusiastic over the last few chapters, it really makes me smile. Enjoy!! ❤️💙💛

———————

Heartache could spread through the body just as easily as illness. Y/n’s head was fogged, her limbs hurt and she felt nauseous the second she opened her eyes.

Somehow she managed to call room service and order breakfast, plain toast and coffee, before falling back into bed. The clock read 10AM, she hasn’t slept that long in years. Then again, there wasn’t much sleep had.

The weight of Jamie’s confession weighed in her chest just as heavily as the moment he’d made it. She’d been up till some unholy hour, replaying the whole thing. His words, the quiver in his voice, his lips against her face…it reduced Y/n fits of tears, breaking her over and over.

There was no question as to whether she should skip the match or not. Not only did she have no desire to be around people, but she didn’t want to mess with Jamie’s head any more than she already had. She was worried enough she’d already cost him the game.

A rhythmic knock at her door signaled room service arriving. Y/n trudged across the room and opened the door, expecting to meet the waiter.

Instead, she got Ted, comically lifting the lid off the platter.

“Mornin’ sunshine!”

Y/n sighed, smiling as much as she could, which wasn’t very much.

Ted, however, found himself hilarious. “Room service fella was about to knock right as I was walkin’ by. Thought I’d have some fun with it.”

“Of course,” Y/n gestured to the room, “Come on in.”

Ted set the tray down on the table before turning back to Y/n, who was already moving to the other side of the room. There was a stiffness to her posture, as if she’d allowed a home invader in. Ted was well familiarized with her character, but he hadn’t seen her so reserved since she first started at Richmond.

“So what’s up?” Y/n asked, her tone devoid of any life.

“Oh, I just wanted to check up on you,” Ted shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets, “Haven’t seen ya in a while.”

“Yeah, things have been busy.”

“I bet,” Ted smiled, “You and Keeley must be kickin’ butt over there. The Dynamic Duo, but with gobs more style.”

Y/n chucked politely, playing with her hands out of nervousness.

Ted waited, watching as Y/n tried to dodge his line of vision. He didn’t expect an explanation to fly out of her mouth, but she was clearly on edge. His chances of waiting her out were decent.

“Well, we’re all glad you’re back,” Ted added, “Owner’s box has been lonely without you, I’ll bet.”

Y/n shut her eyes, it made the lying easier. “Yeah, Ted, I don’t think I can make this one.”

His face didn’t fall an inch, “Oh no. Something wrong?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t get much sleep,” she continued, that part was true. She thought she remembered the clock reading 5AM around the time exhaustion took over.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Ted played along, “I know the boys miss havin’ you around.”

Y/n slipped around the topic, walking to the window. “They excited for today?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, “Revved up and ready to go.”

“That’s good,” she kicked her foot against the wall and diverted her gaze to the curtains. “How’s, uh…how’s Jamie?”

Ted studied Y/n, taking in her fidgeting hands and the exaggerated effort to her words. As hard as she tried, Y/n wasn’t that good an actress.

“He’s alright,” Ted answered, “Bit off, y’know. Little bit like you.”

With every word exchanged, Y/n could feel Ted unraveling the whole thing. He could see right through her.

“That’s too bad,” she said, her voice wobbling. The tears that she’d fallen asleep with were reawakening.

“Yeah, it is,” Ted agreed, “I sure hope he figures out whatever’s botherin’ him before the game.”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/n hummed, feeling like she couldn’t breathe, “He’s got a lot of people counting on him.”

“Yeah, but that ain’t as big a deal,” Ted took a seat on the edge of Y/n’s bed. “I’m more concerned with him, y’know. Why he’s hurtin’.”

Ted noticed Y/n’s shoulders begin to tremble.

“Why he’s keepin’ whatever it is to himself rather than leanin’ on somebody.”

Y/n wiped her hands over her face, her cheeks wet with guilt. She had finally reached it, her dreaded breaking point.

She turned to Ted, who looked at her as only a father could. He knew.

“You wanna tell me anything goin’ on?”

Crossing the room and sinking down on the mattress next to Ted, Y/n softly sobbed.

“Is it Jamie?” Ted asked.

Y/n bit her lip.

“Is it us?”

She sniffled.

“Whole enchilada?”

Y/n’s trembled as she inhaled, “I’m scared, Ted.”

“Of what?”

“This,” she gestured around them, “Richmond. This whole thing.”

Ted waited for her to explain further.

“I grew up having to fight for every shred of attention,” Y/n continued, “Doing everything I could to get my parents to…care. And no matter what I did, they never loved me. Not like parents are supposed to love their kids. And when I realized that, I just…shut everyone out. In high school, in college…and it worked. I was safe. I didn’t have to worry about getting hurt.”

“And then I…” Y/n paused, the happy memory washing over her, “I met these two women in a bar and they offered me a job. And suddenly, I’m a part of this sport that I never cared about and there’s this…family I never asked for. And it should have made me happy,” she grasped her stomach, “But it scared me, Ted. It fucking terrified me because you were all so kind and welcoming and you just took me in.”

She stopped to take a breath, “And then Jamie just…” Y/n sniffled, “He just…happened. And that was the scariest part because…”

She couldn’t say the words. Just like 12 hours before, she still couldn’t physically force them out of her body. But somehow, even without speaking, the sentiment got across.

“Hey,” Ted slid an arm around Y/n’s shoulders. His dad mode had been activated.

For the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to be held as she weeped.

“It’s okay,” Ted soothed, rubbing a hand over her arm, “You’re okay.”

After hours of crying underneath her sheets, Y/n thought she had nothing left to give. But the comfort of another person’s presence created a whole new wave. She was letting down from years of self-determination to conquer her pain on her own.

“Y’know,” Ted said after a moment, “Openin’ yourself up’s one of the scariest things in the world. Anyone who says otherwise’s never really done much hurting. But it’s worth it.”

“How do you know that?” Y/n whimpered.

“You don’t,” Ted stated, “No way to know what’ll happen before it happens. But if you don’t take the risk of gettin’ hurt, you’ll never end up with anything worth having. Just how life works.”

“But y’know,” he sighed, “Where we work…it’s kinda the exception. The people there’re some of the best I’ve ever known. They don’t let you down.”

Y/n’s tears were slowing in speed, but not intensity.

“Know how our right reverend Mr. Rojas likes to say that football is life?” Ted earned a slight smile from Y/n, “Same goes for AFC Richmond. These people’re gonna stick by you through thick and thin. Once you’re a part of the family, you’re there. Doesn’t matter if you wanna be. It’s up to you whether you let ‘em in..but they’re gonna love you whether you like it or not. It’s a heck of a lot easier to just let ‘em.”

Throughout the years, Y/n had lacked many relationships, but that of a parent was the one she’d longed for the most. She needed someone to help guide her, to lovingly correct her when she was making the biggest mistakes of her life. In the moment she needed it most, Ted fit the role perfectly.

Without any prompting, Y/n slipped her arms around Ted’s neck and hugged him.

Ted returned and received it, he’d been going through it too. As true as ever, helping someone out of their pit stitched a little piece of him back together as well. He wanted Y/n to succeed in everything she did and he believed without a doubt that she could. But he wanted her to be happy, truly happy, more than anything.

“Thank you,” she whispered over his shoulder.

“No thanks needed,” he smiled, “I got your back.”

Y/n let go of him slowly and hesitantly. It was 10:30, the match was less than two hours away. “You need to go.”

“I do,” Ted replied, patting her shoulder before standing up, “You think you’re gonna stop by for a bit now? Cheer us on?”

Grimacing slightly, Y/n ducked her head towards the floor.

“C’mon now,” Ted clicked his tongue, “I thought we just made progress.”

Y/n chuckled and wiped under her eyes.

“Well, I hope you change your mind.”

Ted left Y/n with plenty to mediate on and strolled back into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He could lead her to victory, but he couldn’t hand her the win.

Y/n stayed on the bed’s edge a long while after Ted left, contemplating all he’d said. She was at what was potentially the most important crossroads of her life. Heeding Ted’s advice held the possibility of more heartache, more loss, more feelings of inadequacy. But didn’t her isolation already offer that in spades? Wasn’t she hurting enough on her own? Tearing herself down at every opportunity? How could anything possibly be worse than that?

But she had felt worse, twelve hours ago. Breaking Jamie’s heart after he’d poured his out to her had crushed her. She’d hurt him so deeply in the name of self preservation. Walking away from him was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. The worst part was that it was totally avoidable. If she’d have told him that she loved him too, they’d have been saved so much pain. Jamie wouldn’t have had to endure her rejection, Y/n wouldn’t have lost the most important person in her life. The blame was entirely hers.

It wasn’t just Jamie. Y/n was so tired of keeping Keeley at arm’s length. She craved her weekly tea with Rebecca. She missed problem solving with Higgins. She wanted to laugh with Ted and talk life with Beard and annoy Roy. She wanted to go to movies with Sam and drink with Dani and have lunches with Colin. She wanted to cheer the boys on at games and celebrate with them after.

She wanted to win and lose with all of them.

She wanted to be a part of their family.

But to do so, she had to heal her first one.

Before she knew what she was doing, Y/n grabbed her phone off her nightstand. She scrolled through her contacts, even though she had memorized the number in hopes that would somehow equal a call. She pressed the name and dialed.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Y/n hadn’t expected them to pick up. It was 4-something AM where they were.

The familiar message played, asking her to leave her name and number.

Finally, the machine beeped.

“Hi…it’s me…” she started, suddenly nervous, “It’s Y/n. I know it’s early there, I don’t even know if you are there but…I needed to do this.”

Y/n drew a quick breath, it was now or never. “You guys really fucked me up. Me and Caylee. I mean, we’re really screwed up because of you. Maybe she’s doing better than me, maybe I’m the only one who’s still not over all of it but…you really messed up. And maybe you know that, maybe you don’t, but it’s the truth. I am…” she paused, “So broken because you two couldn’t love me. No— you know what,” her voice gained strength, “You could have loved me. You didn’t. For whatever reason, you didn’t. I did everything I possibly could to earn your love, and I never got it. And that’s fucked up.”

Her anger hastened her heartbeat, urging Y/n to go on. “And I don’t know how to forgive you for that. I know it’s possible, worse people have done worse things and they’ve somehow found a way to still be a family, but…I want to. If not for you guys, for me,” her chest’s rise and falls had evened out, “Because I’m tired of being broken. I’m tired of pushing everybody away. I’m tired of thinking that there’s something unlovable about me. I’m tired of thinking that being alone is somehow better than having people that care about you, and I’m tired of being scared,” Y/n threw her free arm out at her side and laughed, “I’m so tired of being scared.”

“None of this probably makes any sense to you, but, ” she sighed, “Mom, Dad, I don’t want to keep doing this. Only talking on my birthday, seeing you every couple years, not knowing what’s going on in your lives…I don’t want that. I want to know you. I want to come home for Christmas. I want to share my life with you. And if you can’t do that then…I don’t want anything.”

Her own words shocked her, was she really potentially kicking her parents out of her life?

“Because I’ve built a really amazing life here,” she said, her voice faltered with emotion, “With amazing people and they love me. They really love me and I’m crazy about them. And I want you guys to be a part of it,” she exhaled and felt the tears rock forward in her eyes, “And if you don’t want that, that’s okay. I’ll be alright because I have them.”

Y/n sighed, feeling the weight of a lifetime lift off her chest.

“I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad,” she continued, “And I hope you love me, for once, more than you do anything else.”

Y/n lowered the phone, staring at the call time. 2 minutes and 10 seconds was all it had taken. “Bye.”

The moment she disconnected, the room suddenly came to life. There was color to the walls and texture to the curtains. There was light shining in through the window and the smell of the coffee on its tray filled the room.

Y/n was free.

Lightened by the release of her life’s pain, the decision at hand became so clear. Y/n flipped on the hotel television, switching the channel to Sky Sports. The match was already into its second half and the Greyhounds were up by one goal.

She did the math in her head. The stadium was ten minutes away. She could still make it.

Flying across the room, Y/n dug through her suitcase for any clothes that weren’t pajamas. She emptied the contents onto her bed only to spot a familiar piece of fabric tucked in one of the compartments.

Y/n unfolded it.

Jamie’s jersey. Still packed from Wembley.

She laughed under her breath, the coincidence of it all was too perfect.

Y/n slipped on the oversized shirt, same as the last time. She threw on jeans and sneakers, grabbing her phone and coat before racing out her hotel room.

The elevator would take too long, she decided, so she sped down the stairs from the sixth floor all the way to the lobby. Jamie hadn’t been the only one to benefit from Roy’s training sessions.

Y/n bolted out the front doors of the hotel and ran to the sidewalk, waving her hands wildly to the cabs that drove by. Eventually, one stopped for her.

“Where to, love?”

“Ethiad Stadium,” Y/n answered as she hopped in the backseat, “Quick as you can.”

The cabbie got back in his lane and took her the way of the stadium. Y/n buzzed in the backseat, adrenaline pulsing through her veins at what she was doing.

“Could you put the match on?” She asked, most of them were typically broadcasted on the radio.

The driver flipped the station till he found the correct one. Y/n listened intently from the backseat, hanging on every word.

Halfway to the stadium, the cab hit typical game day traffic. After waiting impatiently a few minutes, the commentators announced there were twenty minutes left on the clock. If nothing changed in the next thirty seconds, Y/n would miss it entirely.

“You know what,” she reached into her coat pocket, picking a few bills from her wallet and throwing them in the front seat, “Keep the change.”

Y/n ignored the confused calls of the driver as she slid out the backseat into traffic. She ran through the lines of cars until she hit sidewalk. With every slap of her foot against the sidewalk, she could feel Ted’s words penetrate her heart even further. This was what she was supposed to feel.

The sight of Ethiad Stadium welcomed her. Guided by signage, she sprinted to the back entrance she’d usually come through with Rebecca and Keeley. Her sneakers practically screeched across the marble floor, slowing down only for the metal detector and security pat-down.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” Y/n recited her name to the liaison holding a guest list, “I’m with AFC Richmond.”

“Ah,” the young man located her, “Welcome to Ethiad Stadium, Miss-“

Y/n was off before he could finish, bolting up the staircase that would lead her to the VIP box.

She pushed past guests dressed far nicer than her and slid through gaps half her size. Somewhere along the way, Arlo White and Chris Park’s voices became clearer. They were being played through the stadium’s sound system.

“Tartt tried to soldier on, but now he’s in some distress and may require attention.”

Y/n’s steps slowed, pausing in the busy hall to listen properly.

“The med team is helping him off the field. It looks like Richmond may be in trouble.”

Never in her life had Y/n run faster.

Arriving at the VIP box, she rushed up to the security guard.

“Ticket please.”

“I don’t have one,” Y/n panted, “I’m with AFC Richmond.”

“Sorry, love,” the burly man shook his head, “Can’t let you in without a ticket.”

“No, no, no, I’m PR,” Y/n insisted, “I need to get in there now.”

The security guard was unmovable, taking a firm stance in the doorway to block her. “I can’t allow you in without a ticket, ma’am.”

With Jamie injured, there was a new recklessness to Y/n’s urgency. She didn’t quite care what she had to do to get in. She jumped in place to see over the guard’s shoulder, spotting the top of Rebecca’s coiffed hair and Keeley’s curls.

“There! There’s my bosses!” Y/n exclaimed, surging forward through the tiny space between the man and the door.

He pulled her back and away from getting any further, “You can’t enter without a ticket. If you don’t leave now-“

“Rebecca!” Y/n shouted, “Keeley! Keeley! Rebecca!”

She was loud enough that both women, plus Higgins, turned around in their seats. The sight of Y/n struggling against the security guard must have frightened them more than she’d intended.

Rebecca rushed through the room, “Let her go! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“You know this woman?” The guard asked, still holding Y/n back as if she were some crazed fan.

“She works with me,” Keeley scolded, having followed Rebecca, “Get your fucking hands off her.”

The guard released Y/n quickly, eager to avoid any more reprimanding. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he addressed her, “Go on in.”

Y/n launched herself into Rebecca’s waiting arms, exhausted but charging off once more with the women.

“We thought you weren’t coming,” Keeley said as they rushed back to their seats.

Ignoring any and all things around her, Y/n ran down the steps of the box and threw herself against the railing. Jamie. Where was Jamie?

Down by the side of the pitch, he was laid out with the physios working on his ankle. Whatever move he’d pulled had cost him something terrible.

“What happened?” Y/n asked, unaware of who she was asking.

“He stopped a goal and landed wrong,” Keeley explained, slipping into the seat beside Y/n’s, “They just brought him off.”

Y/n clutched the railing with a vice-like grip, her eyes never leaving Jamie. She could see he was breathing hard, that his body clenched with every touch the physios made. He’d never been injured on the pitch this bad.

The game, however, couldn’t stop for one player. Ted made the call to play with ten men for the time being while Jamie rested. The Greyhounds held their own, Van Damme in particular blocking nearly every goal. But all Man City needed was one goal to tie things up and take the league title.

“Come on, Jamie,” Y/n mumbled as if she could will him to rally, “Come on.”

When the medics had done everything they could, Ted kneeled down next to Jamie. They appeared to be in deep conversation, Y/n would have killed to be on the other side, encouraging Jamie back onto the pitch. Whatever Ted was saying had to help. The team didn’t stand a chance if it didn’t.

“Get up, get up, get up,” she whispered, “Jamie, please get up.”

In perfect timing, Jamie extended a hand to Ted, who helped get him to his feet. Y/n held her breath as he bore weight on his ankle and exhaled when he didn’t buckle.

“Yes,” she clapped.

Ted went back to Beard and Roy, and Jamie took his time getting back on the pitch. The Man City fans livened up and began booing their former striker.

With her emotions driving her, Y/n turned to the sections around hers. “Oh, fuck off!”

Jamie shared her sentiment, taking the hate as well as the praise. He egged them on further and encouraged the taunts, jutting his tongue out and beating on his chest.

“Come on, Jamie,” Y/n cheered. There was no way for him to see or hear her, but she stayed up and screaming as if she were right beside him.

Jamie made it back to the pitch and the match resumed. Van Damme blocked another goal with spectacular skill and got the ball over to Isaac. Isaac kicked it across the field to Jamie, who controlled it masterfully.

Y/n’s breath hung in her chest as he moved across the field. Before her eyes, he came back to his truest self. This was him at his very best. This was Jamie playing for no one but himself and it was beautiful.

Jamie avoided every single City player that tried to steal the ball away. Making it to the net, he sent the ball flying and the whole stadium froze.

It soared past the goalie, a perfect shot.

The Greyhounds pounced on their teammate, hugging and slapping him on the back. The entire crowd went wild, the Richmond fans lost their minds.

“YES!!” Y/n threw her hands in the air, “JAMIE!!”

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins jumped to their feet, cheering and screaming. Y/n and Keeley reached for one another and squealed.

Jamie chose the honorable route and didn’t make a big deal over the goal against his former club. When the boys let go of him, the ref blew his whistle and held up the sub board. Roberts was coming on, Jamie was coming off.

It was the most extraordinary way to leave a match, and Jamie was in a bit of pain. He wasn’t going to argue with the decision. But he hadn’t expected the Man City half of the stadium to change their tune. When their boos morphed to cheers, his eyes glistened with lifelong tears.

It had been a long road to get to a point where Jamie could play for himself. He’d spent all his years working to prove his father wrong, using his hatred as motivation to grow his skills. When he’d exhausted that option, he found himself a man without a country. He wasn’t sure what to do.

Then Y/n had shattered his heart.

He’d woken up with very little motivation to play. Their goodbye had added edge to all his fears. Mixed with the possibility of seeing his father, it was a miracle Jamie could move. But he was a fighter till the end, and even if he was a wreck, he would still give 110%. That was his gift.

As he looked up into the stands, despite everything, he wished Y/n was there to celebrate with him.

Little did he know, Y/n was crying tears of pride on the second level. She watched Jamie walk off the field feeling her heart completely tied to his. He’d proved everyone, even himself, wrong.

The game ended soon after that, with Richmond coming out on top. They had earned their spot in the last game of the season and a chance at the Premier League title. Y/n, Rebecca, Keeley and Higgins fell into an group hug.

“Hey, hey,” Y/n pulled out of Keeley’s arms and locked eyes, “You’re my best friend.”

Keeley’s gaze grew teary. She didn’t know what had changed in Y/n since the night before, but she welcomed it and hugged her tighter.

“And you,” Y/n reached over to Rebecca, “You’re just so fucking amazing.”

Rebecca laughed and wrapped an arm around Y/n, lovingly kissing her hair. Her friend was back from wherever she’d disappeared to.

“Oh,” Y/n grabbed hold of Higgins and grinned, “I love working with you so much.”

Higgins embraced her and shouted over the crowd. “Good to have you back.”

As much as she adored them, Y/n’s eyes fell downwards to the pitch. Jamie was celebrating amidst the boys, but they were about to leave.

Keeley followed her gaze, “Go. They’ll take him to the med room.”

Y/n’s face dropped, realizing that she had made a huge faux pas towards Keeley she hadn’t even considered.

Keeley could read the worry before it crossed Y/n’s lips. “Oi, fuck off,” she laughed, “Go get him.”

She didn’t need to hear anything else. Y/n took off running.

She sprinted through the stadium, weaving in and out of the crowd until she hit the authorized personnel area guarded by security.

“I’m with AFC Richmond,” Y/n breathed, exhausted by the effort expended. She reached into her wallet, “I have proof.”

She held up the employee ID and let the guard examine it.

“Go ahead,” the taller one slid to the side.

Y/n rushed through the glass doors. This was one of the only stadiums she hadn’t been to and she didn’t know her way. She peeked through every door until she found the physio room. Neither the medics nor Jamie were back yet.

Jamie hobbled down the hall, assisted by the physios that had aided him on the field. The adrenaline of the game was starting to wear off and he was looking forward to getting off his foot.

They opened the door to the back room to reveal the last person he expected to see.

Y/n spun around and their eyes met, fear suddenly taking hold of her. In her mad dash to the stadium, overcome with emotion, she hadn’t taken into consideration that Jamie may not have wanted to see her.

“Ma’am,” one of the medics spoke up, “You can’t be back here.”

Jamie was dazed, from the thrill of the match and Y/n’s presence. He took clumsy steps toward her, stuck in the magnetic pull they had on one another.

Y/n cautiously moved forward, terrified of what could come next. Jamie had every right to throw her out and never speak to her again. She almost wanted him to, to make her regret ever turning him away. Deserving seemed like too plain a word. She had earned his indifference.

But in the way Jamie’s eyes traced her face, warm and familiar, shocked and relieved, she knew that wasn’t the case.

They fell into each other’s arms without a single word.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered through her tears, “I’m so sorry.”

Jamie buried his face in her neck, unable to do any more than absorb her. She was here. She was here.

Y/n, however, had so much to say. She urgently guided his head up to face her, tears welling in both their eyes. In that moment, telling the truth never seemed simpler.

“I love you.”

Jamie’s mouth curled upwards, searching her face in shock.

“I love you so much,” Y/n confessed, holding his cheeks, “I’m so sorry for what I said.”

She was cut off by Jamie, pressing his lips fervently into hers.

Neither of them could clearly remember the kisses they’d shared during their one night together. They certainly couldn’t count them. But this, this held all the glory and promise of a first kiss. Months of tension and longing they didn’t know they’d felt were poured out, replaced by sweet relief.

With his brain hazy and high, Jamie backed them up towards the physio table. The first step he took on his ankle made him wince, but he didn’t break from their kiss.

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” Y/n pulled away, smiling breathlessly, “Ankle.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled as he chased after her lips.

Y/n giggled, letting him steal a few more sloppy kisses. She wasn’t in a place to deny him anything.

When Jamie did eventually pull back, he nudged his nose against Y/n’s, breathing her in. “You only back here ‘cause I won it for us?”

“You caught me,” Y/n ran a hand through the back of his hair, “I’d have slipped right back out if you hadn’t.”

Jamie grinned and stroked a hand over her head. Now that he had her as close as he’d craved, he wanted to touch as much as he could. He looked down between them and spotted the familiar blue and red.

“I swear, magic shit happens when you wear this thing,” Jamie rubbed the fabric between his fingers.

Y/n rested her forehead on Jamie’s shoulder, shaking with laughter.

“I’m a fucking genius for buying it,” he beamed, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s hair. “I love you so much.”

Knuckles rapped against the door and someone cleared their throat. At some point, the medics had left and returned.

“Mr. Tartt,” one said, “We do need to check your ankle.”

Y/n removed herself from being pinned between the table and Jamie. Jamie dropped his hands to hold hers, unwilling to lose full contact as he took a seat. The physios had a difficult time working with Jamie’s constant movement, trying to pull Y/n in for kiss after kiss.

All things considered, Jamie got off lucky. A brace was wrapped around his ankle and he was advised to use crutches for the next few days. Jamie heard most of their instructions…well, some. He’d more distractedly spare the medics a glance before looking back to Y/n, who memorized all their warnings.

When they left once more, giving Jamie a minute to rest, he tugged Y/n between his legs and wrapped his arms around her waist. Y/n tucked herself into his chest, holding his head as it dug into the side of hers.

There was so much to say, so much to explain, but neither one could think straight enough for any of it. All they wanted to do was hold each other, reveling in the sweet relief of longing being exchanged for love.

—————————

Back at the hotel, Y/n packed both hers and Jamie’s room while he rested on the Coach. She’d handed his suitcase off to Will before heading to her own car, regretting her decision not to join the team bus considering how the trip was ending.

Jamie got Y/n on the phone the second they pulled out of the hotel. She’d insisted he ride back with the boys, but he was more insistent on not being apart for a second. They spent very little time talking as the phone got passed around, each of the Greyhounds wanting to speak to Y/n after so many weeks with no contact.

Keeley and Rebecca coveted the mobile the longest, badgering her for as many details as Y/n would give them on how her and Jamie had come to be. Y/n revealed precious little information, both because she was still retracing the sequence of events herself and because she didn’t feel like telling the entire team just yet.

Along the way, Kenneth the bus driver and Y/n were weaving between lanes together, switching spots in front on one another. The boys could be heard shouting for Kenneth to drive faster so they could beat her. Y/n smiled and laughed the whole way back to Richmond, lighter than she’d been in years.

They pulled into Nelson Road Stadium late, but full of energy. The Greyhounds poured out of the bus toting champagne bottles, singing and chanting as loud as they could. Man City was their great white whale, and they’d beaten them so spectacularly, they deserved a fucking celebration.

Y/n moved around the physio room while Jamie was in the locker room, setting up a bucket of ice water for his ankle, per the medic’s instructions. She headed down the hall to retrieve him after, running into the boys changed into their dress clothes.

“Looking good,” she complimented.

The stragglers cheered and hung back to hug Y/n, Isaac picking her up and spinning her around. Richard pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Hey,” Colin grew serious and pointed a finger towards her, “You owe us an explanation for where you’ve been.”

“Yeah, not cool,” Isaac agreed, setting her back down.

“I know, I know,” Y/n chuckled, “You’ll get one. But tonight,” she gestured to the door, “Go make a big fat mess of headlines for me to clean up.”

They cheered rowdily before heading out the door, leaving Y/n beaming. She was home.

She slipped into the locker room, Jamie was seated in his assigned spot, fidgeting. She knocked softly on the door.

“Come on, superstar,” she held out a hand.

Jamie smiled coyly, “Where you takin’ me?”

“I’m making sure Richmond has a fighting chance next weekend,” Y/n replies, helping him to his feet, “Can’t afford to lose you before you beat the shit out of West Ham.”

Jamie wrapped an arm around Y/n’s shoulders, much preferring to use her as his brace than the crutches. They took their time getting down the hall and into the physio room.

Y/n went about getting Jamie situated while he typed something into his phone. Once his foot was submerged in the ice, she stood to her full height and asked, “Whatcha doing?”

“Texting me dad,” he answered plainly.

Y/n blinked, “I’m sorry, what?”

Jamie clicked his phone shut and set it aside. They had a lot to catch up on. “When I was down, Coach came and talked to me. Told me that I should forgive me dad,” he quickly held up a hand to Y/n’s worried expression, “Not for him. For me. I’ve been in my head all week ‘cause I felt like I couldn’t be me without hatin’ him. Y’know? But between Coach and mum…I don’t know…I found it again. That thing that made me wanna play in the first place. Not for him, not for anyone…just me.”

Y/n smiled proudly. Jamie’s dad was the permanent thorn in his side. Rather than live with the pain, he was learning to grow around it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. It was also deeply ironic that Y/n had made a similar phone call to her parents hours ago. “Just something to tell you later.”

Jamie stroked a hand over her back, “How ‘bout you tell me what made you change your mind?”

Y/n slotted herself between Jamie’s thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck. The new intimacy stole any intention of ever having less than one hand on each other.

“Ted came by my room this morning,” she started, “We had a talk and I…I just realized that I wanted to be with you more than I wanted to stay scared of you.”

Jamie’s brows raised, “Scared of me?”

Y/n nodded and brushed a hand through his hair, “You and all those big feelings…they scare the shit out of me. But I got a taste of what life’s like without you,” she sighed, “And I can’t do it.”

Jamie’s fingers moved against Y/n’s back, he watched and listened intently.

“I raced through the fucking streets for you,” Y/n smiled, “I fought a security guard.”

Snorting at the mental image, Jamie slipped an arm under Y/n’s legs and lifted her onto his lap. She yelped and tightened her hold around him.

“We’re gonna break this table,” Y/n laughed, “And people are going to make assumptions.”

“Let ‘em,” Jamie smirked, eyes full of adoration, “Say it again.”

“I love you,” she whispered joyfully.

He wanted to hear it a million more times and he wanted to say it an equal amount. He captured her lips once more in a soft kiss, content to stay there as long as the world would let them.

The door to the med room squeaked open, “Oh, fuck.”

Jamie and Y/n broke apart, twisting to see Roy and Keeley stood in the doorway.

“You two were annoying before. You’re gonna be fucking unbearable now,” Roy complained.

“Oh, stop it,” Keeley lightly smacked his hand, “They’ve waited this long.”

“What’re you guys doing?” Jamie asked.

“We thought we’d come and keep you company,” Keeley answered.

Roy kicked the door shut and held up an unopened champagne bottle, “Fucking celebrate!”

Keeley squealed and ran over to hug Y/n and Jamie, the three of them embracing one another. “‘Cause that was fucking amazing, Jamie.”

“Yeah, I was fucking amazing,” Jamie agreed, “You’re right.”

Keeley cackled while Y/n dropped her head to Jamie’s shoulder. “Dear God, I don’t think I can handle this ego.”

“Gotten this far,” Roy grumbled, rolling his eyes at his protege.

“We might need to tag team it,” Y/n suggested, “What do you say, Royo?”

“No,” he pointed between Jamie and Y/n, “You signed up for this, he’s your fucking problem.”

Y/n looked down at Jamie, who was already grinning up at her. He’d been her problem for a long long time.

“I’ll make the best of it,” she said, pecking Jamie’s lips.

Roy popped the champagne and he and Keeley pulled up chairs. He offered his ex the bottle, “You start us off.”

“Mmm, don’t mind if I do,” she took a swig.

“Right,” Jamie turned to Roy, “What the fuck happened, man?”

The four of them laughed as the champagne was passed around.

“Did I look sexy?” Jamie asked, turning to Y/n and handing her the bottle, “Babe?”

“I take it all back,” Y/n joked and took a swig, “I’m not ready for this. We’re back to being friends.”

Jamie laughed and tugged her closer to him.

“Shame you weren’t injured in your fucking head, innit?” Roy grinned.

“Right,” Keeley spoke up, “You gonna tell us how this happened? Spare no details?”

Roy took the bottle from Y/n, “You can spare the details.”

Y/n scoffed, “Oh, there’ll be details spared.”

“She just doesn’t want people to know she stole my virtue,” Jamie cheekily smiled, “I get that right, babe?”

Keeley gasped, Roy grunted.

“I will fucking leave you here to freeze to death,” Y/n threatened, “If you ever tell people that’s what happened.”

The foursome stayed put for a good half hour, their raucous laughter bouncing off the walls. Y/n and Jamie explained an edited version of what happened in London to cause such tension at Georgie and Simon’s house. Keeley, surprisingly, didn’t seem to care that she was watching one of her best friends and her ex-boyfriend tell how they’d fallen in love. She was more thrilled than anyone. Roy was less than enthusiastic, but couldn’t hide his smile as he saw how happy Jamie seemed.

When it was time to leave, Roy helped Jamie in to Y/n’s car. He’d need someone to help him around the house for a day or two and there was no one else he wanted to take care of him. They made the twenty minute drive to Jamie’s house non-eventfully, Jamie pressing a kiss to Y/n’s hand at every red light they hit.

Y/n unloaded their bags first, dropping them in the hall, before coming back to help Jamie out of the car. They managed the driveway and the threshold just fine, and the second Y/n had locked the door behind them, Jamie was on her, crushing their lips and bodies together.

After so many months of falling without notice, neither realized just how much love they had for one another until they could express it fully. Like looking through some all-knowing kaleidoscope, everything leading up to that very moment made crystal clear sense. The jealousy, the adoration, the attachment…it had all been leading to this.

All of Jamie’s hard work, his effort to become his best self had mattered. This was the payoff.

Y/n’s long-standing walls crumbled with each touch, never to be rebuilt. Her fear melted at their feet.

They were free of their pasts, belonging only to their future.

————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[oddinary4bts]

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, July 6th

                Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

                You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

                There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead.  You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

                Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

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Living with the aftermaths of breakup sucks, doesn't it? What did we think of this chapter? Let me know! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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