#so. guess what I’ll be pursuing until my dying day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chocosvt · 4 years ago

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love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you.

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not.

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes, as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[ 9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,” you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Caught Red-handed

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Struggling with migraines

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having suffered from migraines all their life, Y/N knows better than to give them much attention or let them hinder their work too much. However, their boyfriend is a lot more worried than they are and has taken it as his personal duty to ease their pain as much as he possibly can.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to it, write and post it, but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it! I’ve never experienced migraines nor have I known someone who has so if I’ve misrepresented or written any misinformation, anyone who catches it, feel free to let me know either in the comments or in my inbox/messages! Love, Vy ❤

The first time I got a headache was in the middle of math class in eighth grade. I remember it so distinctly because I had never before experienced such sudden and such intense pain. I got to go home early that day and spent a good portion of the day trying to sleep it off but to no avail.

Since then I’ve grown used to having to deal with a pain so strong it renders me unable to function for a whole day about two times a month. Sometimes, I even try to be stubborn with it - I try to push through as much work as I can despite the migraine, but that never works out for a long time considering it ends up crippling me in the end. That’s never kept me from trying over and over again though!

Now, to contrast my nonchalance and even annoyance with these pesky attacks, is my boyfriend Corpse’s concern over them. I’ve tried explaining to him that I’ve grown used to them and that I try not to let them bother me and that he shouldn’t stress over them so much but I may as well be talking to a wall because all he has to do is see me squint my eyes or cringe and he enters concerned-mother mode. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it to no end, I just don’t want him worrying over something so small. Also, a minor convenience: if the migraine doesn’t hinder me from tending to my tasks, Corpse will. He’ll make sure I’m off the task I’m working and transported into bed in an instant.

That’s why I’m now clenching my jaw, struggling to maintain a poker face as I work on an important project I have to send to my boss by the start of next week. I’ve got plenty of time, but I like to stay on top of my work so it doesn’t pile on top of me, you know what I’m saying. Corpse is sitting on the couch next to me, casually glancing at me every now and then while remaining quiet as to not disturb me. So far so good, he hasn’t noticed anything and, if I didn’t know any better I would sigh in relief. There’s nothing to trigger the pain to arise any further - the lights are dim, I’m staying hydrated, and I downed two painkillers in the bathroom about an hour and a half ago - so I’m sure I’ll be in the clear at least until dinner.

“Wanna watch a movie when you’re done?“ Corpse asks, “Unless you’re tired or anything...“

I flash him a grateful smile, giving his knee a squeeze of reassurance, “I’d love to, babe. But I can’t promise that I won’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I know you’ve got a tendency of doing that.” Giving me a side-glance he adds, “It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes, already sensing a blush creeping up on my cheeks and neck which I hide by turning to face my laptop screen. One thing I can’t hide though is the wide grin that’s spread across my face as I mutter: “Shut up.”

Just then, a particularly sharp jolt of pain courses through my head, testing that ability to maintain a resting face. Thankfully, Corpse is turned in the opposite direction, searching for his phone, so I allow myself a brief cringe at the discomfort.

Guess the painkillers are dying down on me, I think to myself, a second away from sighing exasperatedly at the thought that I have to down two more. It was wishful of me to think I could enjoy the luxury of a dull ache until dinner, now the migraine is straight up mocking me.

I quietly stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom so I can take another dose of aspirin because I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on my work for very long if it keeps hitting me with this intensity. Opening the door to the small cabinet above the sink, I automatically reach out for the bottle of pills but stop when I see a surprise.

Directly in front of the bottle stands a note written in, you guessed it, Corpse’s handwriting.

‘Already losing effect, huh? When are you thinking of coming clean?‘

Well shoot, am I that transparent?

I sheepishly exit the bathroom, walking back into the living room where Corpse greets me with the same stance as a parent greeting their kid who’s gotten home past curfew: legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised, the whole nine yards.

“Yeah, they’re already losing effect.“ I admit, a small apologetic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush. “And I wasn’t gonna tell you at all.” I hurry to add: “Please don’t be mad though.“

Corpse shifts slightly, his gaze giving me a onceover as he contemplates how to pursue the case. I’ve already got several arguments/defenses ready - the perks of working for a lawyer - but I know he’ll dismiss all of them no matter how strong they might come off as in court. Bottom line: even statements that would fly in court can’t fly with Corpse sometimes. Especially when my health and well-being are the topic of observation.

“What have we said about lying?“ He finally asks, causing me to cringe and ball my fists in guilt.

However, I still have my arguments ready: “You never asked me so I never technically lied.” One might say I have quite the audacity to plead not guilty right now, even though I’ve been caught red-handed, but what can I say, I’m stubborn in nature. And Corpse knows this, he’s just testing me for his own amusement.

“Poor excuse, Y/N.“ He says with disapproval, shaking his head and fully embracing his disappointed parent persona. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. So, as punishment for hiding the truth from me, you are to ditch that project you’ve been bugging yourself over and come cuddle and watch a movie with me. Bonus points for you if you fall asleep.“

I needn’t be told twice - not only will it wipe that look off his features but it’ll also get earn me a movie night with the additional benefit of cuddling with my boyfriend? - how could I refuse?

I can’t help it, I just gotta push my luck here and poke the bear with a stick, “If the punishments are so sweet I might start being dishonest more often.“

Corpse rolls his eyes, scooting on the couch and tapping the space he’s freed up for me, “I said I was feeling generous, don’t bet on it happening often though.”

Alright, enough luck-pushing, I should be grateful for this generosity instead. I should be using it to the max.

So, what’s stopping you from doing just that?

Good question, brain, good question.

Head still pounding just not as intensely, I slip under the thin soft comforter to find myself not only wrapped in it but also in Corpse’s arm, his warm embrace bringing me instant comfort, walking me on the tight-rope of falling asleep right away.

“Sneaky bastard.“ I attempt to mutter, yawning halfway through.

I feel his lips on the top of my head, placing a quick and gentle kiss in my hair before he says, “You’re welcome, babe.”

Count your lucky stars, Y/N. You’ve got one of the good ones.

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calzona-ga · 4 years ago

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[Spoiler] talks with The Hollywood Reporter about his return to the ABC medical drama and why the surprising reunion with Chyler Leigh had to be filmed via green screen.

[This story contains spoilers from the April 1 "Breathe" episode of Grey's Anatomy.]

The magical beach on Grey's Anatomy just delivered a double surprise.

Viewers knew that Chyler Leigh would be returning to reprise her role as Meredith's younger half-sister, Lexie Grey, but she wasn't the only former star who came back on the show's magical beach. Eric Dane, in a surprise appearance, returned to reprise his role as Lexie's on-screen love interest, Mark Sloan.

Both Dane and Leigh appeared together on the beach as part of a central storyline as Meredith (Ellen Pompeo) continues to battle COVID-19. Dane and Leigh become the latest former stars to return to Grey's Anatomy this season, joining Patrick Dempsey (Derek) and T.R. Knight (George) as the Shonda Rhimes-produced ABC drama continues to focus on the impact of the pandemic on the medical community.

Dane and Leigh's Mark and Lexie appeared for the first time since the season eight finale. That episode featured Lexie telling Mark that they were meant to be as she died from injuries sustained in a plane crash. Mark, meanwhile, was killed off in the season nine premiere as Dane left the series to pursue TNT's The Last Ship.

Below, Dane talks with The Hollywood Reporter about providing closure to Mark and Lexie's love story, being part of Meredith's big storyline — she's now off the vent and breathing on her own — and why his reunion with Leigh had to be filmed via green screen.

What was the pitch to come back? Had you seen that Patrick Dempsey had come back and wonder if you were going to get a call?

No, I hadn't. I was in Shanghai, China, when Krista Vernoff reached out and said, "I have an idea." She texted me. I said, "Well, I'm in Shanghai, of all places. And I'd love to hear your idea. Give me a couple weeks to clear quarantine and I'll find you." And she says, "How would you feel about coming back? I don't know if you've seen what's going on, but Meredith is in this coma in a fever dream from covid. And she's seeing all her friends on a beach." And I said, "Well, that kind of makes sense. Yeah, sure, let's do it."

Was the pitch for both you and Chyler to return the same episode

Absolutely.

What was it like reuniting with Chyler after all these years?

It feels like I never left. It was very comfortable and very easy, and it was so nice to see a lot of the same faces with the crew. It's a role that always fit for me, like one of those great old t-shirts. And it was just like putting the t-shirt back on and hanging out on a beach for a couple days, and catching up with some old friends.

Did you actually film with Chyler? She's a regular on a show that films in Vancouver, which would have meant she had to quarantine in the middle of Supergirl production to film this.

Chyler was in Vancouver. So we had to work some magic. Chyler could get here but then she couldn't get back to Canada. There was some green screen. There was a lot of me and Ellen. And Ellen an eye line.

Were you bummed that the logistics didn't work out for you and Chyler physically share a scene together again after so long?

Yeah. I'm honestly bummed you even asked me that because I wanted to sell the myths of us actually being on screen together in person. But don't take it personally. It's OK, you're doing your job. But Ellen and I see each other every now and again, Justin [Chambers] and I see each other every now and again. I spent so much of my life with these guys. When you see them again, it's not a big, "Oh my God, what have you done?" It's like, nobody skips a beat. It's just, everything kind of fit. It fit then; it still fits.

What did you and Ellen talk about between takes?

We talked about kids, my 11-year-old just found Grey's Anatomy and she's asking me a lot of questions which are difficult to answer. We talked a lot about our kids finding this show, and how do we handle that. How do we police what they're able to watch? Are they of age? Is it appropriate? Some of it raises some questions that I'm not quite ready to answer yet. But I don't mind it because both my kids now want to be surgeons. And all their baby dolls they used to play with are now being cut open, and they're stitching up bananas. It's fun.

On-screen, the episode implies that Mark and Lexie wound up together in whatever this special beach is. Shonda Rhimes said back in back in season nine that killing off Mark was the only way for Mark and Lexie to really be together. In Lexie's last dying words, do you think Mark and Lexie were meant to be?

Absolutely. I mean, the line Meredith asks is, "So you guys are together." And I say, "I guess on your beach, we are." But I think Mark would have found Lexie no matter what. Whether it would have been on Meredith's beach or Lexie's beach, or anybody's beach, I think Mark would have found her.

Does this feel like you have closure with this character again? Did it feel like there was any lingering questions that you were really able to put a bow on this time?

I think it all came full circle. The one question I think that everybody was left with was, obviously Mark Sloan saying goodbye to Lexie and she said, "We're meant to be." And then Mark passes on, and we don't know what that meant. And now we know, Mark and Lexie are together in their parallel universe.

As an actor, do you feel like this is the closure that you maybe didn't quite get the first time?

Yeah. I always felt like there was closure. I've always trusted these writers and what they were doing as far as the overall story and the character's departures. They've always handled that really well. I guess the only people that weren't provided with closure was the audience. And I hope that this can do that for them.

Even though you didn't film in the same place, it really does feel that way.

Two-thousand miles of distance between us is not going to the chemistry that happens on screen between us. I know who I'm talking to, she knows who she's talking to. And that translates.

Mark spoke about always looking out for Callie (Sara Ramirez) and Arizona (Jessica Capshaw) and their daughter, Sofia. That felt like something special to be part of, too.

I can identify with that. I lost my father at a pretty early age and I always felt like he was looking out for me — still to this day, to a degree. So those words meant something to me, and I believe in them.

Ultimately, Mark and Lexie help Meredith fight to stay alive in her battle with covid. What does it mean to you to have been able to not only come back, but to do so in such a meaningful way?

It's a pretty poignant moment. I would think anybody speaking to anybody beyond the grave would probably provide the same advice. You get one lap in life, it's very important that you live every day to the fullest. You keep both feet in today, you stay present. And you're there for your loved ones.

Any regrets about not being able to reunite with Patrick Dempsey to bring McSteamy and McDreamy back together?

No. I love Patty. That wasn't the story. There were no regrets. I've never had regrets about anything on the show.

You said in a 2013 interview that you would have stayed on Grey's until the last episode but ultimately left because you couldn't pass up the role in The Last Ship. Looking back, any regrets about asking to leave?

No regrets. Look, Grey's Anatomy is a fantastic show and it provides a fantastic life. I'm an actor, I think it's very unnatural for any actor to play the same character for eight years. It's just counterintuitive to what I think I'm doing for a living and I think what my purpose is with my job. So, as much as I loved being there, and as much as I loved working with the people I was working with, playing Mark Sloan for 17 seasons just seemed like, I don't know, a little antithetical to what I'm supposed to be doing as an artist. And you get to a point where that's all anybody is going to see you as. And even with The Last Ship, I wasn't playing Mark Sloan, but I was playing a guy that certainly looked like Mark Sloan and had some of the same characteristics. And then I took a year off and said I need to mix things up here because I'm not finding any real joy in the work I'm doing. And then Euphoria came along and was very different and something I've never done. And it's going to challenge me and keep me engaged. And nobody is going to expect this out of me, so let's do it.

What's the status of season two?

Season two is going to be fantastic. I don't think principal photography has started yet, but I know we are prepping right now. I think mid-April we start shooting.

Is the plan still to get the show back on the air this year?

I believe so. We do take a long time filming it. And it's a gift to get that much time to shoot an hour of television. We take 30 days to shoot an episode sometimes, which is unheard of. When we were shooting Grey's in the early days, the 10-day episodes that we would get were unheard of. But 10 days and two units, people were like, wow, that's a luxury.

So to return to Grey's and get to spend a few days on the beach and not on set and in scrubs under the gun like the old days must have been a nice final memory of the show.

It was a great couple days on the beach with some old friends.

#grey's anatomy #eric dane #Mark Sloan #17x10 #THR #lexie grey #slexie

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mxpseudonym · 4 years ago

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Three Musketeers

Pairing: Isiah Jesus x Fem!Reader x Michael Gray

Summary: Isiah makes a saucy proposal, Michael agrees for once, and you can’t help but go along.

Length: 1691 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Dangerous for work, threesome/polyamory,

A/N: Whoo! This turned out more fun and youthful than I expected, so I hope you crack a smile and get a little flustered upon reading.

"You ever sleep with someone, y/n? You've got the two of us right here."

It was Isiah's cheekiest proposal to date and the one that started it all.

You were the secretary taking over for Lizzie now that she was moving to Mr. Shelby's new aboveboard office. Though you were only coming up on a year at the position, your similar age and humor with Michael and Isiah made you the three musketeers. There was hardly a day you weren't all together, trying to experience as much life as one could in the smoke and mud of Birmingham.

It had been a few months since Isiah rested his elbow on Michael's shoulder and sent you a cheeky grin that didn't fit his inherently salacious ask. Standing in your living room, blood warm from the liquid courage coursing through all of you, you turned your eyes to Michael. You expected surprise, maybe even anger, but instead, you found him waiting expectantly for your answer.

"If you don't like it, we can stop."

It was a little awkward in the beginning, trying to figure out who was to do what. Still, you found yourself enjoying it that time and every time after. Now it was more likely than not that whenever the boys walked you home from work or the Garrison, they'd stay a while. Today was no different.

"Your eyes get bigger when you drink. Did you know that, y/n? It's pretty. You're pretty," Isiah smiled sloppily at you. Your cheeks, already warm from the rum, turned even hotter as he kissed down your neck.

"You don't have to sweet-talk me; I'm already here," you said with a laugh.

Isiah pulled down your dress, letting it fall to expose your delicate underthings. He kissed down your neck, then buried his face into your shoulder as he pulled you closer into a hug.

"Y/n, don't throw away my compliments. It makes me upset," he murmured.

"This is what happens when you two start drinking rum. He goes all soft," Michael accused as he walked into the bedroom in only his boxers.

"I do enjoy it, so it's worth the risk," you mused. Isiah mumbles something unintelligible before lowering to his knees in front of you.

"I'm just calling it as I see it. You're incredibly sexy, y/n. I haven't to hold myself back in the office when you come in looking pretty like you do."

Isiah spoke between kisses planted on your cotton panties that he was eager to get rid of. Michael patted Isiah's head before moving behind you.

"He's right about your eyes," Michael spoke in your ear while dipping his fingers between your bra strap and the sensitive skin beneath. "Can we take this off?"

You nodded once, already starting to feel warmth pool in your lower belly as your garter straps were released and your bottoms were also being pulled off. You gasped as Isiah finally reached you, placing feather-light kisses up and down your slit.

It was Michael's turn to start on your neck. Your head dropped back onto his shoulder when his hands found your breasts. He felt them in his palms, kneading them until you were sighing and aching for ample attention to your sensitive nipples. You leaned against Michael more when he suggested Isiah put your leg over his shoulder.

"Oh god, this- ah!" A bite to your inner thigh jolted you. You looked down with wide eyes, only to see Isiah's mischievous ones.

"Oi, watch it," Michael warned, guessing what happened. From his own experiences, Isiah could get very into biting depending on which type of liquor he drank.

"It's okay," you stopped them. The heat rose to your face as a smile rose to Isiah's.

"You like that?" He asked, doing it again and watching your bottom lip gets pulled between your teeth. "Atta girl. She likes it, Mikey, keep going."

"Heathens, the lot of you," Michael muttered, earning a chuckle from you both. Though, as things progressed, he quickly joined you. Your nipples were pinched and rolled harder than before, paired with Isiah's greedy laps at your leaking pussy made you shiver. A stiffened tongue and bite to the neck was enough to send you over and leave you squirming against the two.

"Absolutely beautiful, love," Michael kissed your temple.

"To the bed?" Isiah asked though it was more of a direction. If you had to describe them, you could say Isiah pointed, and Michael drove. Isiah always made the first move, and Michael was there to support. Isiah kissed you first, and Michael played with the hem of your skirt. Isiah asked what you liked, and Michael remembered to make it happen later. Now, Isiah mentioned the bed, but Michael was the one moving you to it. Not that you minded any of this in the slightest. Ever since fully grasping that you could, in fact, orgasm several times, it had become a matter of continuing to please you.

You laid back and watched the two men undress. They were so different even in their bodies. And yet, they were perfect when they moved together. Michael pulls Isiah to him, but it's Isiah who cups the shorter man's face and says something about you tasting good before kissing him.

It no longer surprised you to see them lean into each other. Your first night together, there seemed to be a few almost kisses, but Isiah never pursued it. You weren't a fool; you knew there was likely something between them before you came along. So, in your second encounter, you kissed Michael then looked to Isiah.

"I know you're dying to get a taste, aren't you?"

Now there was no stopping them. While Michael kissed you neatly and with purpose as if to send a message depending on the mood, Isiah chose enthusiasm over form. Sometimes your teeth would knock together if you weren't careful. Both made you weak in the knees.

Together, however, they left behind any need to treat their lover delicately and moved on to devouring each other. Just before you could feel left out, Michael reached out to you blindly, leaning away from the kiss.

"We have to let her decide who she wants this time," Michael reminded his lovers of the rules.

There was no guarantee of who got what job. Isiah could have you seeing stars several times over if he didn't accidentally overstimulate you and end things for the night. Michael was exceptionally good at drawing out your pleasure in a way that could leave you satisfied, but ultimately nowhere near a release. It was hard to compare and say who was better, so you did the work of not overthinking and compromising. Michael smirked somewhat smugly as he went to grab a condom from your bedside table, while Isiah sighed. He'd be more upset if there were any losers in this situation.

Back on the bed, you reveled in all of the attention they gave you. You could tell whose touch was whose even when they moved in tandem. Isiah moved without any hesitation- full of enthusiasm and impulse. Michael is more calculated and deliberate, thoughtful in everything he did. With your eyes closed, you can tell it's Michael's fingers brushing over your lips and kiss your jaw, and Isiah placing wet kisses down your body, already on your shoulders. Your wrists were moved above your head, both held in one large hand, and two others pull your legs apart.

"Don't tease," you warned as Michael moved between your legs.

"How could I when you're this wet?"

Still, he ran his head over you until you were whimpering before grabbing the base of his cock and sinking into you. Isiah laid next to you, propped up on one arm and stroking himself with his other hand. He leaned over you, alternating between covering your skin with wet kisses and saying the naughtiest things in your ear.

You brought your hands up to squeeze your breasts on his command, and Michael groaned. They'd left the pub just for this, and it showed in the way he wrapped your legs around him. He pushed into you deeper, hitting the perfect spot that made your back arch.

"Michael, p-please,"

"Look at you all worked up, y/n," Isiah groaned in your ear. Knowing they were both enjoying themselves made everything more erotic. "Why don't you ask Mikey for more, love?"

"M-Micheal, Michael more."

You were so close already, and Michael's grip on your waist tightened as his rhythm picking up brought you to the edge. Isiah kissed your cheek, then your jaw while your moans grew louder. He moved his hand from his own dripping cock to flatten on your stomach, sliding down until he could circle your clit.

"Isiah," you said his name softly and turned your head to kiss him. His tongue slid against yours for a moment before he moved to kiss your cheek again.

"Hm? Does it feel good? Is he stretching you out, darling? I love it when he does that,"

"Fuck!"

Michael, usually the quiet one, swore at Isiah's words and broke his rhythm to slam into you. Isiah only slightly held back his laugh at that reaction. Micheal filling you to the hilt with a newfound ferocity paired with Isiah's encouragement left you squirming and coming hard around Michael's cock. Your clenching left him swearing again as he finished in you. Michael stroked your thighs with his eyes closed as you both caught your breath.

"You're gonna to pay for that," Michael finally said, looking to Isiah, who was petting your hair.

"You're in trouble," you teased Isiah. Michael slid out of you, doing the responsible thing of tossing away the used condom.

"I'll pay in full, but you'll have to work for it, Peaky boy."

Isiah rolled to his back and motioned to his erection, desperately in need of attention. You crawled forward and took it in your hand, giving it a generous lick.

"Don't worry, Mikey, I'll help."

Michael shook his head at his two favorite people, but climbed on the bed anyway. His hand wrapped around yours, helping you pump as he licked his lips.

"Heathens, all of us."

#Hahaha #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Michael Gray fanfic #Isiah Jesus fanfic #Michael Gray smut #Michael Gray x Reader #Michael Gray x Isiah Jesus #Michael Gray x Reader x Isiah Jesus #Isiah Jesus smut #Isiah Jesus x Reader #Peaky Blinders smut #Finn Cole smut #Jordan Bolger smut

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years ago

Text

The Sanguine Web - Part 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this, it is the first part of my 100 follower special, the other parts are coming shortly. I’ve been really wanting to a Hanahaki fic for awhile so here it is. I also want to do some different soulmate au’s so those will be coming soon! Love you guys so much xx

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and blood

Summary: You try to figure out how to tell your friends your sick

Prompts

Masterlist

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(y/n)’s pov

“I know this diagnosis is scary, but we’ve got a quite few options now,” Dr. Shaw smiled, though it felt a little backhanded, “Not, the only way we can guarantee your safe recovery is removal of the infection, but the good news there are plenty of doctors in the city who know how to perform the surgery so it wouldn’t take us very long at all to get you in. Alternatively, having your feelings requited will lead to the infection dying off on its own, or, you can try to resolve your own feelings. If you’d rather pursue one of those then a good first step is talking to them, as scary as that may be.”

“Okay,” I have to let everything soak in for just a minute, “Is the surgery risky?” “The actual surgery is very safe, though it will lead to the removal of your feelings for that person. The only real risk is the chance that it prevents you from falling in love in the future.”

“What are the chances that happens?”

“It’s about fifty fifty, and unfortunately there isn’t really a way for us to tell if that will be you, it’s just a risk we have to take,” she clasps her arms in front of her, “I’m not asking you to decide today, you’ve caught this very early so we’ve got a bit of time to figure things out. Until then I can recommend a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, and there’s some antibiotics I can prescribe you that will help slow the infection.”

“Okay, thank you,” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, “I think maybe I’ll try and talk to him and work it out that way.”

She nodded, “Okay, most patients opt to try that first. We can still get you into surgery later if that doesn’t work out.”

“How late can I opt in?”

“Up until the infection starts spreading, once it’s outside of your lungs the surgery won’t do anything. However, if your feelings were to change at that point or your feelings are requited, there is still a chance you’d be able to pull through,” she began scribbling things onto a notepad, “That’s still far off right now, but this disease it unpredictable, so we’ll need you to come in every week for blood work and xrays. We’ll monitor everything very closely so we’ll know if we start getting close to the point of no return so to speak.”

“Alright, I guess straight to the pharmacy then?”

She nodded, “Good girl, and you call us if you need anything. If things feel like they’re accelerating or you start coughing up a lot straight to the hospital okay?”

I nod, “Okay, thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll see you next week.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I took the subway to the pharmacy stuck in an odd state of numbness. Part of me wanted to cry, or scream, but I just didn’t do anything. I’m in shock until the woman behind the pharmacy counter begins speaking to me.

“Alright sweetheart what can I do for you?” “Just getting this filled,” I hand her my prescription with a forced smile.

She takes the paper, squinting at it before frowning, “Oh my…” she types a few things and sighs, “I’ll be right back,” I drum my fingers nervously on the counter while I wait for her to return, finally she does carrying a little white bag, “I know this isn’t totally appropriate but I know they only prescribe this for one thing and…” she trails off for a second, starting to blush, “Well my girlfriend had Hanahaki’s too, and she was really scared, but she ended up telling me how she felt and it was great, she recovered just like that,” she offers me a sympathetic smile, “I know this is hard but you should talk to them, I’m sure whoever they are, they’ll at least want to help.”

It’s sweet of her to say, so I thank her and shove the bag in my purse on my way out. I’m sure Peter would want to help, but he’s with someone else, and they love each other. I don’t get to confess and clear things up and live happily ever after. I have to move on, it’s the only option for me. I’m not getting that surgery and risking never falling in love again. That’s not fair. Just because I fell for the wrong person this time I have to never love again? Or die?

I’m tearing up when I get home, and unfortunately everyone is already over.

Betty beams at me from the couch, “Hey, how’d it go?”

“Good,” my voice shakes a little, “They think it’s just, um, allergies. I’ve got some pills that should start clearing it up.”

She nods, though all of them look a little concerned, “You’re gonna be okay then right?”

I lie through my teeth, “Nothing life threatening.”

“Okay…” she seems to buy it, but I’m sure she’ll end up drilling me on it later, “You wanna join us then?” “Sure, just, uh, give me a second,” I retreat to my bedroom, dumping my purse and jacket before clutching myself tight. I just want to cry, but I have to wait, everyone’s going to know something is wrong if I try to hide out.

I return to the living room after consoluling myself for a minute, taking a seat besides Betty on the couch, “We ordered pizza,” MJ smiles, “I got that veggie one I was telling you about.”

“Hope it’s good,” I bite my cheek, I feel guilty even talking to her.

“It’s amazing, you’re gonna love it,” she insists.

Betty’s eyes bore into me suspiciously, “Are they really sure it’s just allergies?”

I nod, “Of course Betty, I promise I don’t need a lung transplant or something.”

“Are you sure?” she presses, “There was blood.”

“Blood?” MJ raises a brow.

Betty nods, “Yeah, she was coughing up blood last night, that’s why she even went to the doctor. It seemed worse than allergies.”

“My throat was just dry,” I try to explain, “I promise I’m fine, it’s just something in the air right now.”

“Okay,” she lets up, “But if you do need a lung transplant I’ve got you.”

“And maybe if you give (y/n) one of your lungs you two will get some sort of psychic connection,” Ned interjected, “I bet they’d make a tv show about you guys.”

Everyone starts laughing, and for the first time that day I let myself glance up at Peter. He’s so pretty, and so is his laugh, but before I can appreciate either of those things I start coughing. It’s an almost instant reminder that I can’t do that. Something tickles in my throat so I quickly stand up.

“Are you okay?” Peter frowns at me. I nod quickly, “Just need some water,” I cover my mouth with my hand as I struggle to pour myself some water.

I bend over the sink to make sure none of them can see the petal I cough up. I know it must be a begonia. Last finals week was really stressful for me, and in the middle of the week Peter had dragged me away from the cave I was studying in to relax for a while. He took me to this cute little market and bought me some flowers while we were out, begonias.

I shove the petal down the garbage disposal and wash away the blood, I’ll have to figure out what to do when I start coughing up more, full flowers too.

“Are you sure you're good?” Betty questions when I stand back up, I swear she has xray vision or something.

“Yeah, better now,” I take a big swig of my water, “I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dr. Morrison picks a notebook up off her desk. She seems very nice, I just hope she’ll be able to help me work through some of my feelings, “I’m really glad you came here, therapy can be scary, especially in your situation, so coming here is already a step in the right direction.”

“Thanks, I’m still a little nervous, but anything to help.”

She gives one kurt nod and glances down at her notepad, “Absolutely. I’d like to know what your intention is here so I can know how to help you best. Do you intend to get surgery?” I shake my head, “No, I’m not gonna get the surgery. I want to just try and move on.”

“Alright, is this person aware of your feelings?”

I shake my head, “No, he’s with someone else so that isn’t really an option for me.”

She nods, “Okay, can I ask his name?”

“Peter.”

“Peter,” she repeats, scribbling a few things down, “Are you two close?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“Is he aware that you're sick?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know they’d ask who and I don’t know what to tell them yet, and it’s still new. I mean I want to tell them eventually, but I think I still need some time.”

“Of course, you need to process everything first, that’s perfectly reasonable. I do encourage you to tell them though, having a good support system is going to help you feel a lot better, and you can always let them know you just don’t feel comfortable telling them who it is.”

“I will.”

She smiled, “So, what do you like about Peter?”

I blush, “Everything I guess, he’s smart and he’s funny and I always feel really good when I’m with him. I don’t know, we just kind of click.”

“You two spend a lot of time together?”

I nod, “Yeah, we hang out all the time, I probably see him more than my actual roommate.”

“How would you feel about spending less time together?”

“He’s my best friend, why would I do that?”

“Separation is going to help you move on, I’m not saying stop being friends or avoid him, but giving yourself space from him is going to be good for you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I feel like therapy went well, I feel more hopeful when we finish, although I’m definitely tired. She told me the goal is to get me really comfortable with my feelings so I can move on. I decided to set myself a goal afterwards, I want to tell Betty before my next session, a week from today. I can’t hide it from her for too long anyway, we live together after all, and she’s already convinced there’s something more than just allergies going on. I debate even telling her when I get home, but Peter and Ned are in the living room, and I’m still not sure I’m ready.

“Hey,” Peter smiles to me as I walk in, “How was work?” “Fine. I didn’t realize you guys were coming over.”

“Oh yeah, we’re going to the movies. You should come, MJ is gonna meet us there.”

Dr. Morrison said separation is good, and I don’t really want to be their fifth wheel anyway.

“I think I’ll stay home,” I clutch my purse nervously, “Thanks for offering though.”

His lips pulled to a slight frown, “You sure? MJ picked some weird art film, it’d be more fun if you came.”

“Yeah, work was actually pretty tiring and I still have a bit of homework…”

“Okay,” his cheeks just barely dust pink, “Next time then?”

I nod, “Of course, you guys have fun,” I scurried to my room as quick as I could.

I don’t know what exactly made me start crying, I mean I’ve cried every night this week so maybe it’s just the overwhelming feelings again, but I think it was Peter. I don’t want to have to pull away from my best friend, I just wish I loved him the way I was supposed to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it just makes me feel gross.

I end up hiding out until they leave, then I return to the kitchen for some hot cocoa and comfort food. I calm down a bit, but I’m still a little teary eyed when I pass out on the couch. I don’t know how long I get to sleep for, but what ends up waking me up is the front door opening. I peer through groggy sleepy eyes, expecting to find Betty, ready to scold me for not going to bed.

What I didn’t expect was Peter.

He bent down beside me and set a hand on my cheek, “Wake up sleepy head, I know this couch isn’t that comfortable.”

“Hey,” I yawn before rolling onto my back, I push my arms up in an attempt to push the sleepiness out of my body, “Where is everyone?”

“Betty is back at mine and Ned’s, I came by just to talk to you, but it can wait,” he smiles and offers me a hand, “Come on bunny, I’ll take you to bed.”

I shake my head, “I’m up, what did you want to talk about?”

He blushes, “Let me help you to bed first.”

“I’m a big girl Peter, I can put myself to bed. What’s on your mind?”

He sits besides me with a sigh, “It wanted to make sure you’re okay, you’ve just seemed a little off this week.”

“It’s just allergies P, I’ll feel better in no time.”

“I don’t think so,” he frowns, “I don’t think allergies forget how to talk to your best friend.”

“I didn't, I just don’t feel very good.”

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me if you’re upset with me or something…”

I laugh, “Peter why would I be upset with you?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just seemed off every time I’ve seen you this week.”

“Well it’s not you Peter, I just don’t feel very good. If I were upset with you I would just tell you.”

“Okay,” he accepts my answer though he doesn’t seem totally satisfied by it. Who am I kidding? It’s Peter, he always knows when something’s up. “You know I’m always here for you right?”

I nod, “I’m here for you too Peter.”

He wraps an arm around my neck and kisses the top of my head, “We could hang out for a little while, play some games or something.”

“I’m still pretty tired, I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” I blush as I stand, “Maybe some other time.”

His smile falls but he nods, “Okay, but it has to be soon. I miss hanging out.”

“Soon,” I agree, “I miss it too.”

He stands and pulls me into a hug, placing another kiss on the top of my head, “I’m sorry about whatever’s going on, you know I love you tons.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to burst into tears, to not break down and just tell him the truth. I can’t though, I know I can’t. It’s not his fault he doesn’t love me the way that would fix everything, he loves someone else and I want that for him, even if it makes me jealous, even if it kills me. I just want Peter to be happy.

“I love you too.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

This morning Betty nearly caught me tossing a petal out the window, making it very clear that I’ll have to tell her soon. I’d much rather tell her than have her just find out, I just don’t know how. I think I should just sit her down and tell her, but I just want to sugar coat it somehow, make it seem better than it is. I’m trying to figure out some way to do that when I get called up to the pharmacy counter. I barely even realize I know the girl behind the counter this time. Adeline, MJ’s roommate.

“Oh hey,” she smiles to me, “Are you okay with me filling your prescription? I can totally grab someone else.”

I know she’ll know if I let her fill the prescription, it’s a little scary, but there’s enough separation between us that it feels okay, like a warm up.

“I don’t mind,” I smile back, “Just don’t tell everyone about the pills I’m popping.”

She laughs, “I’ll keep it to myself,” she turns to her computer, typing away before squinting at the screen, then it seems to hit her, “(y/n)...” she turns to me with a frown, “Do you?...”

I nod, “Yeah, but like I said, don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course,” she pursed her lips, “I’ll be right back.”

It was worse than I thought, Adeline and I aren’t super close, we get along, but we never hang out outside of group get togethers or parties. I didn’t expect her to look so upset or concerned, I thought she’d just tell me she was sorry, that she hoped I got better. It makes me scared of how everyone else is going to react.

“Here you go,” she frowned as she passed the little white bag to me, “You haven’t told anyone?”

I shake my head, “Not yet.”

“Really? Not even Betty, o-or Peter?”

“No one, I’m going to, just kind of figuring out how.”

She nods, “Yeah, I can’t imagine. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m gonna get better, it’s just a little scary for now.”

“Of course,” she smiles, but it’s one of those sad smiles I have a hard time looking at, “I, um, if there’s anything I can do just let me know. I could help you tell everyone,” she blushed suddenly, “When you’re ready of course. Just, uh, maybe it’d be easier to get it out of the way all at once you know?”

“Thank you.” It’s not a bad idea actually, maybe it would be easier than telling everyone individually. Then I just have to explain it once and answer all the questions once. I don’t have to answer all the questions over and over. It might balance out the reactions too. “That might be nicer actually, and you could probably help explain the medical stuff a bit more.”

She nodded, “Yeah, definitely, I mean do it however you need to, but if I can help in any way just let me know.”

“Thanks Adeline, I’ll think about it,” I give her an awkward little wave as I walk away.

I start making a pros and cons list in mind, weighing both of my options to try and figure out the best way to go about this, of course my thoughts are then interrupted by a phone call. Peter.

He’s been trying to get together, and this time I really have been avoiding him, following the advice of my therapist. I don’t know if it’s helping, I think about him just as much, the thoughts are just sadder now, but it’s what I have to do. My therapist knows how to get me better, and I have to get better or I’ll never get to see him, or anyone. It would be so much easier if I could just tell him that, I hate lying to him.

“Hello?”

“Hey bunny,” he sounds chipper as ever, “How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Well I’m okay right now, but I would be a thousand times better if you came over and helped me study?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” I glance around me, trying to think of something, “I have to go grocery shopping.”

“How about I come help you then?”

“I thought you needed to study?”

“I do but,” he pauses for a minute, “I know you said you aren’t avoiding me, but you know it went from not talking as much to suddenly we haven’t even seen each other in days.”

“Well why do we need to hang out all the time anyway? Just go hang out with MJ.”

I don’t mean to sound as angry as I do, I’m just so frustrated. It’s not easy keeping this all to myself.

He stays quiet and then sighs. “You’ve been acting weird since you went to the doctor, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m worried about you.”

“Nothing’s going on Peter,” I frown and wrap an arm around myself, “I’m just busy today alright?”

“You’re busy everyday.”

“I’m not, I’m just busy right now…” I sigh and hang up, I just don’t really know what to say to him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

After my awkward phone call with Peter I decided it would be best for me to tell everyone at once. I just need to get it out of the way, rip the bandaid off. So I texted Adeline, and she proposed that she and MJ would have everyone at their place to hang out today. She said it was gonna just be dinner and some party games, and everyone agreed to go. I told Betty and Ned I’d meet them there so I’d have a bit of alone time to get ready. I wanted just a bit alone just to prepare what I’m going to say and everything, I want this to go well. I want to walk into therapy tomorrow and tell her all about how I told my friends and I have this amazing support system.

A coughing fit interrupts my attempt to hype myself up in the mirror, it’s much more violent than they have been. The petals tickle a bit, and there’s usually a bit of blood, but it’s never like this. As a bit of blood splatters in the sink I hear what I assume is Betty coming back to retrieve some forgotten item. I kick the bathroom door closed and hope she just ignores me. Instead the door almost instantly starts creaking open.

“I’m fine!” I lean over the sink, trying to cover it with my hair, “Just give me a second!” I choke on my words.

The hand that’s set on my back is distinctly not Betty’s, “Jesus Christ are yo-” Peter stops mid sentence, just as the full flower falls out of my mouth, followed by a streak of blood. The full ones are much harder to cough up than the petals.

“I’m fine,” I quickly try to think of someway to explain this, “That was just in my hai-”

He seizes my wrist as I attempt to turn on the sink and wash away the evidence, “Did you cough up that flower?”

I flush, “Did you break into my house?”

“Betty gave me her keys so I could pick you up and figure out why you’ve been avoiding me! Now tell me what the hell is going on!” he demanded in the most concerned, Peter-like way he possibly could.

I take a deep breath, glancing at the mess in the sink before I finally answer, “I have Hanahaki’s disease.”

His eyes dart between me and the sink, seeming to debate his next words carefully, “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks.”

“Were you even going to tell me?”

I nodded, “I was going to tell everyone tonight.”

He dropped my wrist and pushed a hand through his hair, I couldn’t even look him in the eyes, “W-Well it’s not that bad right? I mean there’s surgery, a-and I’m sure if you just talk to him he probably feels the same way.”

“He’s with someone else Peter, he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t also love you.” When I finally did meet his eyes they were glossy, and his cheeks were red.

“He doesn’t Peter, I just have to move on.”

“I’m sure he does, just tell me who and we ca-”

“I’m not telling you who he is. This isn’t his fault and I don’t want anyone to blame him or make him feel bad about it.”

“It is his fault!” he snapped before sighing, “Okay fine, you don’t want to talk to him, but there’s still surgery right? I know surgery is scary but this one’s pretty safe isn’t it?”

I nod, “It is, but there’s the risk of me not being able to love anyone again, so I’m not getting the surgery.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting the surgery, I’m just going to have to move on.”

“Okay but if that doesn’t work you’re going to get the surgery right?”

My cheeks dust pink as I shake my head, “No.”

His jaw is locked, his whole body tense, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry. “You have to get it.”

“I’m not getting the surgery Peter, but you don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna move on and get better.”

“Are you kidding me?!” he snaps, “Telling me you’ll get better isn’t good enough! I understand if you want to try and move on first, but if that doesn’t work then you’re getting that surgery.”

“I’m not getting it at all Peter.”

“So you’re just going to die?!” his bottom lip started quivering, it startled me, I didn’t expect anyone to cry, “I’m not going to lose you just because some asshole doesn’t love you back! It’s not fair and I’m not letting it happen!”

“It’s not your choice Peter,” I hug myself because I have no idea what else to do, “Nothing is going to happen to me, I’ll be able to move on and I’ll be just fine. But, if for some reason that doesn’t happen, I really need you to respect my decision on this.”

A couple tears fell down his cheeks and he shook his head, “You cannot ask me to just sit back and watch you die.”

“I’m not, Peter I am going to be fine. I’m on medication that helps slow it down, and I’m seeing a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, she’ll help me move on and I’ll be okay.”

“That isn’t good enough. There’s no guarantee you get better that way and that isn’t good enough for me.”

“I’m sorry Peter, but I can’t give you any other answers. I’m not getting the surgery, even if that kills me. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, and I’m so sorry, but that’s all I can give you.”

A few more tears escape and he pulls me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck and went to my waist. We stay that way for a second, he rests his head atop mine while I wonder what to do. I don’t really know how to make him feel better, I don’t even know if I can.

Peter is the one to finally break the silence. “Who is he?”

“It’s not important Peter.” “Yes it is! You think he’s worth dying over!” his voice cracks and I pull away. It’s really hard to see him cry, and I can feel my own eyes starting to sting at the sight. “You won’t even reconsider it for your best friend so I wanna know what’s so fucking great about him.”

I start crying while I realize I can’t ever tell anyone it’s him. I can’t risk Peter finding out, I don’t ever want to put that on him. “It’s not about who he is Peter, I just don’t want to risk never falling in love with anyone ever again. I know some people are okay with that, but I’m not, love is important to me and I don’t think I’d ever be totally happy knowing I couldn’t have that. None of this is on him, he’s a really great guy, I love him a lot and I know you would to. I don’t want anyone to blame him or be upset with him or anything.”

“Well I hate him,” he snapped, “And it doesn’t matter what you say about him. My mind is made up and I think he’s a dick.”

“You can feel however you need Peter, but he’s a good person, the best I know,” I wiped his eyes, “Can you please keep this just between us for me? I really need to tell everyone on my own terms.”

“I won’t say anything,” he promised before pulling me to him again, “Do you think we could just ditch tonight? I really want to talk, just us, and I want to know what’s going on. I need to be able to help however I can.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I can make something up.”

He nuzzled his nose against the top of my head before pressing a kiss to the same spot, “Thank you.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I ended up texting Adeline, who assured me she’d cover for us so we didn’t have to stress out about it. Peter watched my every move while I washed the blood out of the sink and threw the flower out of my bedroom window. Luck for me, he didn’t notice what kind of flower it was, or at least he didn’t comment on it. Actually he just sat on the edge of my bed, honestly I think he was just too caught up in his own thoughts to actually process what was going on.

“So, did you have some questions?” I asked as I closed my window and took a seat besides him. He nodded, “Yeah, a few. Do you have some kind of timeline of how it’s going to progress?”

“Well the medicine I’m taking will slow everything down, right now it seems like mine is slow moving and my doctor thinks I’ll have a few months, but it’s really unpredictable. Things could get worse very quickly, but she said that’s pretty unlikely in my case. The coughing will get worse and there will be a lot more flowers and blood, but physically I’ll be pretty okay until the end. As for healing, I have until pretty much the last moments for my feelings to be reciprocated or to move on.”

“What about the surgery?”

“They’re able to perform it until the infection moves outside of my lungs. If I get to that point they’ll hospitalize me, but it won’t get to that point.”

“How long would you have if it did?”

“A few days max, I mean they’ll do everything they can to keep me going as long as possible, but there isn’t much they can do at that point.”

He clenched his hands and gave one stiff nod, “You said your therapist specializes in this?”

“Yeah, and she’s really great, she’s going to help me move on and sort out my feelings and all that. She does a lot of work with patients and their families, and she’s got a really good reputation. I really like her so far.”

“Do you think it’s helping so far?” “Well I’ve only gone once so far, but I feel like I can do this. You can look her up if you want, her name is Raina Morrison.”

“I will,” he assured before taking my hands in his, “Are you going to see her again soon?”

“Yeah, tomorrow actually. That’s why I wanted to tell everyone tonight.” He blushed, “I mean it’s still good you told someone right?”

I nodded, “I think so. It was just a little more overwhelming than I thought it would be.”

I’m a little nervous about seeing her now, I’m worried that telling Peter wasn’t good. She told me separation was a good thing, that it will help me move on, I’m worried I won’t be able to do that now. Peter’s really protective, he cares a lot about everyone, I really love that about him, and I don’t know if I have the heart to tell him that we can’t spend time together. I don’t even know what explanation to give him now.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you like that. I’m sure it’s not good for you.”

“It’s okay, having you guys know will be better for me, I need to have my friends support in this, it’ll make everything easier.”

“Maybe we can just love you enough that he won’t matter anymore,” the smile he gives is weak and forced, he still looks like he might cry again.

I don’t know what to say to make him feel better. I know he loves me plenty, it’s just not the right kind of love.

“Thank you Peter,” I just ended up hugging him again.

He held me tight against his chest, “If you wanted I could help you talk to everyone, even if you end up doing it one on one. Maybe it would be easier to have me there.”

“It’d be nice to have you there,” I pulled away to keep from crying again, “You, uh, you’ll get it now if I’m a little evasive right?”

A look of confusion overcame his face, “No. What reason could you possibly have to avoid me now?” his bottom lip started quivering again, “You might not… No, I won’t get it, we should be spending every second together that we can.”

“I need alone time to process my feelings, that’s how I’ll get better.”

“Then I won’t say anything!” his cheeks had flushed again in an instant, “I can sit there and be quiet and do nothing, but I need to be there for you. I need to spend as much time with you as I can…”

“Peter you don’t need to start savoring your time with me or make all these precious memories or anything like that. I’m gonna get better,” I squeezed his hands tight and smiled to him, “And it would help a lot if you believed that too, because right now it kind of seems like you’ve already decided I’m going to die.”

“I do believe that, I know you’ll get better,” he sighed, “B-But what if something happens? What if you’re all alone and you just need someone? I should be here, I want to be here.”

How was I ever supposed to argue with that? I can’t tell him he can’t be here for me, I don’t want to tell him he can’t.

“Maybe we should watch a movie or something before we start crying again?”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “Good idea. Maybe something funny?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

We threw on some supposedly funny movie, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I don’t know if Peter was, but he seemed out of it too. We just sort of stared at the screen until everyone came back to my place. I had to get up from where I was laying with Peter and pretend I had food poisoning as Adeline told them. Really I just wanted to go to bed, the day had been extremely draining.

“Hey guys,” I smiled at them, doing my best to look sickly.

Betty smiled sympathetically to me, “Hey, you feeling any better?”

I nod, “Yeah, I threw up a bit but I think I can just sleep it off. Don’t worry, Peter has babied me plenty.”

“Well between that and the cough I think you need a little babying,” she wiggled a small container at me, “I brought you left overs for when you feel better.”

“I brought some for you too,” MJ added, flashing Peter a smile, “There in the car.”

“Thanks,” his cheeks dusted pink and I just prayed he wouldn’t give anything away, “I think I’m gonna stay with (y/n) tonight though, just in case she gets worse.”

“I’m sure she’s had enough of you hovering for one night Peter,” her smile dropped almost instantly, “I thought we were hanging out.”

I wonder if they’ve been fighting or something. A wave of guilt washes over me for avoiding Peter, for not asking if there was something he needed to talk about too.

“We were together last night,” he frowned at her, “You know (y/n) and I haven’t hung out in awhile, and she’s sick, I should stay with her.”

“You two hung out all night and I’m sure her best friend and roommate is more than capable of making sure she doesn’t die in the middle of the night.”

Peter’s jaw clenches and I interject in the fear they may start arguing if I don’t, “Yeah, I mean thank you for taking care of me, but I’ll be fine. I’m probably just going to go to bed anyway, you should go hang out with MJ.”

His cheeks dusted pink and he nodded, “O-Okay, just as long as you're good…”

“I’m good,” I assured, “It’s been a long night, I really just want to get some sleep.”

MJ smiled, “See? You’re driving her crazy, just let the girl get some sleep.”

“I’m just taking care of her,” he snapped.

We were all quiet, Peter and MJ are always so mellow. I mean they act like they’ve been married for forty years, they don’t really fight. As long as I’ve known them they’ve just been…

Stagnant I guess.

“Well she just said she doesn’t need to be taken care of so no need to smother her, right (y/n)?”

I just nod, “Yeah, I’m good. Peter go hang out with girlfriend, I don’t need to be babysat.”

He frowned, a small huff left his lips before he nodded, “Sure, whatever, let’s just go,” he gave me an awkward sort of side hug and called, “Text me!” before leaving with MJ, both seeming annoyed with the other.

Part 2

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bright-molina · 4 years ago

Text

Everything I Didn’t Say (Part One)

synopsis: You knew Sunset Curve would make it big. What you didn’t expect, though, was losing the people that mattered most to you. Now you’re left to navigate all the regrets you were left with. Turns out you’re not the only one with regrets though.

word count: 4.8k

pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

warnings: mentions of the guys dying, mentions of grief, there’s also a bit where reader goes to therapy if that counts as a warning

a/n: For @jatpx5sos Week Day Two: Parallels! The parallel I used is Everything I Didn’t Say and Unsaid Emily. This is also part one of about nine of the Everything I Didn’t Say series which I’m so freakin excited about not gonna lie. The second part will be up in a couple days!

Also real quick, the bold italics are the lyrics just as a note.

“You can’t be sneaking in here, you know.”

“I know. But I wanted to see you.”

Luke smiled as he slid into the seat beside you, not hesitating at all to take your hand, press his lips to the back of it, then lean his head on your shoulder. Each action a silent acknowledgment that he really had missed you quite a bit in the last few hours since you’d seen him.

The moment was broken up quickly by Bobby taking a seat right on the opposite side of Luke. He set his head on the palm of his hand and looked up with wide eyes and a smirk. “What about me? Did you want to see me too?”

“Oh always.” Luke answered just as easily with his own smirk, shooting a wink in his direction. Your laugh and Reggie’s mingled together as he and Alex approached the table just in time to hear the last of their quips. Meanwhile Alex only smiled in amusement while he dug out the item he was looking for from his backpack.

You took the notebook back from him and he took his usual seat across from you. As you waited for his feedback you noticed Luke’s attention narrow at the item and you wordlessly handed it over to him. Almost immediately he sat up to eagerly search for the page that held the newest song you were working on.

Your attention remained focused on Alex. “What do you think, will it work?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Alex nodded, glancing at where Luke was now looking through the most recent lyrics you had added, he and Bobby quickly jumping into a conversation about possible rhythms and melodies.

“Well I know so,” Reggie nudged his shoulder and grinned as he turned to face you. “The song screams drum heavy and if anyone can do it it’s our Alex. We were gonna stop by the music rooms during free period to work some stuff out. You should come with!”

Just as you were about to argue that you couldn’t Luke looked away from the notebook, his pencil leaving a half finished word behind. “Forget that, let’s just head back to Bobby’s. We’ll work on it and have the chorus nailed by the end of the day.”

It took very little convincing for the three boys to agree to Luke’s proposition, each of them stuffing what was left of their lunches in their bags. You, on the other hand, stayed silent. A fact which they noted.

It was a place you had found yourself in dozens of times before. Reggie, Alex, and Bobby said their goodbyes to you and moved just far away enough to pretend they couldn’t hear you and Luke talking.

This time was different though. It wasn’t just another harmless practice session to mess around in. In exactly four days time Sunset Curve would be playing The Orpheum. This was one of their last practices before then and they were determined to get everything as close to perfect as they could. Including the most recent song they wanted to debut just for the occasion.

“I -” You wanted to join them more than anything. But the argument you’d had with your parents just that morning rang loud in your head. It’d been prompted by a failed test, a less than ideal summer school progress report, and another full song book they’d found. “I can’t.”

“We need you,” Luke turned in his seat to face you and reached forward, interlocking your hands together once more. “We’re almost there, just a few more days until the show and then we’re solid. Then I promise you can focus on these fancy prep classes, I’ll even help you.”

It was tempting, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. Writing those songs beside Luke was quite possibly the best thing you had. It couldn’t be the only thing anymore though and that was a fact you hated admitting to yourself.

“I can’t,” You gave a sigh and tapped the cover of the notebook quickly. “I’ll work on the song a bit in my free time and meet you there later alright?”

As much as Luke wanted to argue, he didn’t. Not at the time being. He could understand well enough the pressure you were under. So he only nodded, gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and squeezed your hands once before standing. “Yeah. Later.”

“So what do you think?” Luke asked excitedly as the notes they’d been playing faded away softly. All of them were looking at you eagerly and you tried your best to match their excitement. And you really did love what they’d done with the song. It was just hard to be as enthusiastic when the rest of your afternoon had been less than ideal.

You finally answered him, trying to push your other worries and the pile of work you knew you had waiting for you to the back of your mind. “It’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so cause we have news,” Luke stepped forward after cheering at your approval along with the others. “We wanna make it our closer for Saturday.”

You didn’t try to hide your disbelief that time, though you did wonder for a second if you’d heard him right. “It’s not gonna be ready on time.”

“So we’ll put extra work into it,” Luke frowned a bit but stepped towards you anyway. “I’ve already got ideas for the verses, just tell me when and we’ll work on it.”

“I can’t.” You repeated the words as you tried to push away the echoes of an argument you knew you couldn’t ignore anymore.

“You can’t?” The rest of the room had grown quiet and tense but Luke kept going. “Y/N this is huge for all of us, you included.”

“And I get that, I do,” You finally looked away from the words in the songbook and up at him. “But as much as you want me to, I can’t put all my focus on this. Not right now.”

“Why not?”

And there it was.

There were so many ways in which you and Luke were the same. The two of you could spend hours side by side doing what you both loved. Writing and creating music together in a way that was special. In a way that you didn’t have with anyone else.

This was where you were different though. Luke was braver than you were, you could admit that much. He was ready to drop everything to pursue a future in music with the band and he had. You couldn’t do that though, not with parents who had never wanted you to start this journey in the first place.

And though you had expected it you still didn’t believe it. You were very aware of Bobby, Alex, and Reggie avoiding all eye contact with either of you. Sure conversations similar to this one had happened before but never had you looked as angry as you did now.

Without another word you stood, shoving the songbook in your bag along with the text books that had sat unused. It was better to get out of there. You didn’t want to but you had to.

“Y/N -”

“I have more going on then you care to know, alright?” It was all you said before storming out of the garage.

Luke followed you, though, determined to figure out whatever was happening. He needed you and that was a fact he wasn’t afraid to admit. “Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

For a second you weren’t too sure what to think. The rational part of your brain knew he did care. Of course he did, he’d helped you as many times as you’d helped him. But you weren’t listening to that part. It was easier to listen to the part of you that didn’t require too much thought when your mind was already a storm of second guesses.

“Why? You only want to know so we can finish this song.”

Luke tried reaching for you like he always did but stopped when you took a step back. “That’s not the only reason.”

“So it is part of the reason.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” You didn’t mean for the words to start coming out. There wasn’t a single filter in place at the moment and every thought, no matter how little you meant them, came out. “That what I have going on isn’t as important? I can’t afford to put all my energy into this, Luke. I’ve told you before and you always say you understand but I don’t think you really do.”

“I do understand.”

“Do you?” With a sigh you took the songbook out of your bag, one with both your names scribbled on the front cover in his handwriting, and shoved it into his hands. “Do whatever you want with them, they’re all yours now.”

You were positive the clock on your wall was mocking you. The ticking seemed louder than ever, as if it knew all you wanted to do was ignore it.

You hadn’t talked to Luke at all in the last four days. Both Reggie and Bobby had stopped by a couple times and Alex, who lived right next door, checked in with you every morning and every night. You were sure he was put up to it, despite telling you otherwise.

With an annoyed groan you backed your chair away from the desk and started spinning in slow circles. Their soundcheck would be starting soon and you were trying to push the thought out of your head and focus on the homework you were supposed to be working on.

Then the wheels of the chair slipped back in the middle of a spin and the textbook on your desk toppled to the floor. A single sheet of notebook paper was left on the floor after you picked it up. When you reached for the paper you were met with the sight of a dozen creases and a mix of different handwriting.

The memory connected to it was as vivid as ever. It was one of the first songs you’d written with Luke forever ago. It had gotten confiscated from the two of you after you’d been caught passing it back and forth during class. Then you’d both been given detention after a little too much begging to have it back.

Without another thought you stood and reached for the badge with the Orpheum logo and the letters ‘VIP’ printed underneath it. Luke had given it to you proudly weeks ago while declaring ‘You really don’t think we’d do this without you, right?’

You practically sprinted out of the house, ignoring the calls of your mom asking what you were doing, and left. You were certain now that there was only one place you had to be.

It took two buses and sprinting as fast as you could a few blocks before you finally reached the building, frantically showing the person at the door your badge. The looks you received from various employees did nothing to stop you from running through the halls until you reached the stage area.

Almost immediately you zeroed in on the sound of a familiar voice and called his name. You watched as Bobby looked around for a few seconds before finding the place where you stood. His grin matched your own and he met you halfway, excusing himself from the girl he’d been talking to.

“I knew you’d make it,” He nodded towards the badge and laughed a bit. “You’re too stubborn not to.”

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes at him before smiling at the girl who had joined the two of you. She held a Sunset Curve shirt in her hands along with a demo and you knew without having to ask what had happened there.

“Rose, this is Y/N,” Bobby’s smile turned more genuine and less teasing. “The brain behind about half our songs.”

“Half is too generous.”

“And you’re too modest.”

“You’re a songwriter?” Rose practically beamed and you couldn’t help but take after her as you nodded. “Remind me to get some input from you on a few things I’m working on.”

“I’m happy to help,” You told her and waited as she scribbled down her number on a napkin. You thought your glance around the room had been subtle but Bobby had noticed almost right away.

“Luke’s not here,” Of course he knew what you were thinking and who you were looking for. “He went to get some food with Reg and Alex.”

“Did they say where they were going?”

“Not really. Said they were getting hot dogs and you know how they are with street food.” He noticed the way your shoulders sank and you started twisting the lanyard of the badge around your hands and reached forward to stop you. “Hey, they’ll be back soon. You can talk to Luke then alright?”

You tried to nod but all you could think of was the argument. It was days later and you’d thought much too long about it. “Is he mad at me?”

“Are you kidding? He could never be.” Bobby gave you the most reassuring smile he could and to his relief it worked a little.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me about one of your songs,” Rose caught on easily to how anxious you were getting and started pulling you towards one of the tables after shouting behind her shoulder that she was taking her break. “Then I’ll tell you about one of mine. Deal?”

“Yeah,” You nodded as the three of you sat down. “Yeah, alright.”

Rose’s distraction worked. You lost track of time and very quickly grew invested in the conversation. So much so that you didn’t really notice what was going on around you.

You didn’t notice the sound of sirens passing by the building. You didn’t notice the way the chatter outside became louder as a crowd grew. You didn’t notice the sudden silence of the room as a single police officer stepped in, speaking briefly to the manager before walking towards the table.

“Are you -” The officer paused for a second, glancing around at the three of you before giving a soft sigh and focusing on the person he was looking for. “Are you Bobby?”

“Yeah.” The easy going smile Bobby had been wearing faded quickly. You knew yours did too. “I am. Why?”

Then this overwhelming, sinking feeling filled every part of your body. Something was wrong. You knew just by the look on the officer's face. The words he spoke next only confirmed it. Reggie. Alex. Luke. Accident. Tragic. Gone. I’m sorry.

Everything around you went blurry, all the sounds muffled as those words echoed through your head until they finally sunk in. You weren’t too sure when it was that the tears started streaming down your face or when the officer left.

Eventually though, you looked up to find Bobby in the same state you were sure you were in. You didn’t really process your movements either as the two of you moved closer together. What came next was the shocking realization that you were all each other had left. That was it. Alex and Reggie and Luke, your boys, were gone. And there was no changing that.

“I feel like I’ve been wearing this for years now.” Bobby muttered as he picked at the black fabric of his suit. It was the third time now that the two of you found yourselves in this position. Sitting on the floor outside the garage, the door shut tight, in black clothes.

The instruments inside sat untouched now. The space that had been filled with music and laughter and unbelievable amounts of joy just a short while back was silent now, something that at one point you didn’t think was possible.

“I hate it.”

It wasn’t clear whether you meant the black clothes or how things had turned out or just the feeling of something missing that seemed like it would never go away. Maybe it was a terrible concoction of all of three.

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded and let his head fall back against the garage door, trying his hardest to stop silently crying for what felt like the thousandth time that day. “Me too.”

Two months later you sat with Bobby at a café that had opened not too long ago. The songbook you and Luke had once shared sat unopened in front of you. It was the first time you’d actually accepted it from him.

He had found it with Luke’s things after finally working up the courage to go back into the garage two weeks after he started seeing his therapist. The last time he tried giving it to you you’d given it back with tears and shaking hands insisting you couldn’t take it. You’d made progress though, no matter how small, and that was a huge thing.

“You should come with me next week.” Bobby finally broke the silence, looking up from where he’d been staring at the table but still tapping his feet on the floor.

“To see your therapist?” You were grateful for the interruption, thoughts already running rampant in your head at the sight of the songbook.

“Yeah. I told her about you, how we were -” He paused then as the memory flashed in his head for a second. He breathed in deeply then exhaled slowly as he reached for his cup of tea. “How we found out about Reggie, Luke, and Alex together. How close we all were, how the two of us still are. She said you were free to join for a session if you wanted.”

“I’ll think about it.” You told him honestly as you nodded, folding your arms in front of you so the songbook was out of sight.

“Good.” Bobby leaned forward then, turning his gaze back to the top of the table once more as he debated whether or not to say anything. Ultimately he did. “Thanks.”

You looked at him then, head tipping to the side as you studied him for a moment. “For what?”

“For being here. Through everything.”

You were positive then that no matter what happened from that moment on Bobby was always going to be someone who you knew would be there for you, just as you were always going to be there for him.

The smile you gave him was gentle, reassuring in a way you knew he needed at the moment. “Of course.”

“You bring that with you every time you come see me.”

“I take it with me everywhere, honestly,” You admitted, noticing the way Dr. Crystal nodded a bit before leaning forward.

“Can I?” She asked as she motioned towards the songbook just barely peeking out of your bag. You nodded and handed it to her, watching closely as she flipped through it carefully. She noticed. “Why do you think you carry it with you?”

“I think -” You gave a sigh as you started fiddling with the hem of your shirt. There was no doubt that she already knew the answer, and she knew that you probably did too. The couple of sessions you had attended with Bobby helped a lot and you’d been seeing her on your own for almost three months now. “Cause it was Luke’s. It was ours and -”

When you didn’t continue she shut the songbook and set it on the table between the two of you, gently sliding it in your direction once more. “It’s what still connects you to him.”

“It’s just - If I open it and - and look at everything in there it just reminds me that that’s all I have left of him and Alex and Reggie. If I open it and read those songs it feels like when I close it they’ll be gone.” You surprised yourself with your own words. One of the things you had yet to decipher in the last couple of months was if Dr. Crystal’s silence was a good thing or not.

“That’s not true, though. You have your memories of them. They’re still there in you and in Bobby. You may have lost Luke and Reggie and Alex but you still have him and Rose.” She spoke honestly as she glanced at her watch. You knew what that meant and so you reached for the book and returned it to its usual place in your bag. “I think it's a good idea to try and look through the songbook, Y/N. It might make it easier if you had someone there with you.”

“I’ll -” You sighed as you stood from your seat and then finally nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Three days later you once again sat with Bobby, this time in the living room of your otherwise silent and empty house. It was usually that way now. Your parents still walked on eggshells around you, not too sure when it would be acceptable to stop.

“Did you ever look through it?” You asked as you turned on the couch, the still closed songbook now on your lap. He had promised to be there with you when you opened it and he was.

“I did,” Bobby admitted, turning just as you had. “When I first found it an-and before I gave it to you.”

You nodded once before looking down at the cover of the songbook. Then quickly before you could change your mind you opened it.

The first sight you were met with was your name in Luke’s handwriting on the front cover, his own name right underneath it. You’d been expecting it but it still caught you off guard. Then you saw the song lyrics on the first page and broke down completely.

It was a page full of scribbles and smudges and crossed out words. Your handwriting and his mixed together in a way that didn’t quite make sense but that held memories only you had shared with him. A tear fell onto the page and you quickly dabbed it away when you saw the ink start to run, leaving behind a spot of paper crinkling in on itself.

You only made it through a couple pages before you stopped paying attention to the words, soft cries bouncing against the walls. Bobby took the notebook from your hands carefully, sniffling once and wiping the tears out of his own eyes.

“He, uh,” He flipped open to the last dogeared page, one near the very back. That one, like the others, was covered in smudges of lines that had been erased and written several times over. Lines that were erased and never finished. “Luke was writing this for you. Started it the night you guys-”

Bobby stopped the moment he noticed you shut your eyes tightly and he knew you were remembering that day. He quickly shook his head, his own thoughts going back to that day.

He’d walked into the garage late that night and had found Luke hunched over the notebook just as he had dozens of times before. Unlike the other times, though, his face was twisted into deep concentration as he stopped every few seconds to think. When he finally let him read what he had been working on he wasn’t at all surprised by what he found on the pages.

“You have to know he wasn’t mad at you,” Bobby shut the songbook once more after reading through that same list and looked at you once more. There was a different sort of heartache painted on your face and it pained him to look at it. He did it anyway though, you deserved as much.

“How do you know that though?”

“Because he never was. He never got angry at you ever but especially not that night. He wanted to stop by your place the night of the sh- of the show. But we -” He sighed then and his head fell, eyes shutting tight as he once again recalled every single event the night of the Orpheum show. He’d replayed it dozens of times over, wishing more than anything that he could go back and change it all.

Then Bobby caught sight of the tears streaming down your face once more and without thinking he wrapped you in as comforting a hug as he could muster. It took a few moments before he realized it was the first time since before the show that he was doing so. Even the simple action reminded him too much of the friends, brothers really, that he’d lost.

But they were gone. They were gone and you were here. You were right there beside him and you needed him. “We ran out of time.”

The silence hung heavy between the two of you. The feeling you felt, though, was anything but. It was a strange one that almost made you feel that despite everything you’d gone through the last few months you’d be okay as long as you had more moments like these.

You thought of the boys then. Of messing around with Reggie and late night talks with Alex. And of Luke. Your Luke who you wanted to say so many things to but couldn’t anymore.

“We did, didn’t we?”

It was the day before your next appointment with Dr. Crystal that you sat alone in your room. This time though, you were surrounded by old sheets covered in lyrics and notes written on various scraps of paper. Some of them were in your handwriting, sure, but it also included some in Luke’s. His and Reggie’s and Alex’s and Bobby’s.

The last few days had been spent reading all those old notes and the songs filling the majority of the songbook. You’d been trying to work up the courage to finally look at the one Luke had been working on. The one supposedly meant for you.

With a deep sigh you finally opened the cover and flipped to the page you’d been avoiding until that moment.

The first thing you saw was a single line at the top of the left page.

I hope you know for you I'd sacrifice to make this right

What quickly drew your attention though was the letters bigger than anything else on the page. You’d spent ages mastering the art of reading Luke’s handwriting and you could immediately tell he’d written and rewritten it until it was as neat as he could manage.

I wish I could've made you stay and I'm the only one to blame. I know that it's a little too late. This is everything I didn't say.

The last phrase had been written over a couple times and underlined. Right underneath it though was a list paired with bits and pieces of lyrics.

All the songs that we wrote

1. We’ve written so many things together and I can’t imagine doing this without you. You always let me ramble on, help me gather it all together in a way I can’t on my own.

All the wrongs that I hoped would erase from your memory.

2. For some reason you always forgive me. Whether it was making you late or getting us in trouble or some stupid fight we had. This is different and I don’t know what’s going to happen but you have to know I’m sorry.

Holding onto a broken and empty heart.

3. I could’ve done better. I know that. All I can think of is all the times you talked to me. All the times you trusted me. And I hate that I told you I’d be there for you and I wasn’t always. I’m so sorry, Y/N.

Flowers I should’ve bought, all the hours I lost. Wish I could bring it back to the start.

4. I needed to say all of this sooner. I know that. I took what we have for granted and god I just want you here with me again.

The amount of time that passed was unclear. All you did was read the words over and over again until you practically had them memorized, burned into even the deepest parts of your brain. At some point you registered the stiff feeling of dry tears on your cheeks and it was then that you reached for a pencil.

Your hands shook as you brought the songbook onto your lap and leaned over the page. The letters came out wobbly, just barely legible, as your breathing picked up faster than you would’ve liked.

The moment the words were on the page, though, it felt like a weight was finally being lifted off of your shoulders. Written in your handwriting right on the opposite side of Luke’s were the same words he’d written months before you.

Everything I Didn’t Say

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Everything: @meangirlsx @theolivekiddo @dream-a-little-bigger-x @s-h-a-d-o-w-s

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p---ink · 4 years ago

Text

White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine.

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival.

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face.

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised.

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process. When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return.

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job?

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love.

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil.

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one.

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids.

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you.

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest. You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message.

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day.

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you.

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly.

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!”

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin.

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet.

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though.

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him.

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself.

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes.

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew.

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first”. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it.

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex.

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?”

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last.

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub.

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face.

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy.

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch.

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips.

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers.

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch.

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were.

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up.

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.”

#Chris Evans smut #Chris Evans fluff #chris evans x reader #black reader #Chris evans #marvel smut #marvel fluff #captain america #Steve rogers #ransom drysdale

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curioussubjects · 4 years ago

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come be a season 12 truther with me; or what if dean and cas got together offscreen

Originally, I wrote this post to celebrate “Galaxy Brain” airing as Berens & Glynn gave us “The Future.” It’s been a while since that episode aired, and some things have changed about this meta. As such, there are multiple versions of this post floating around, so make sure to go back to the source for the most up to date version. For all intents and purposes, this post functions as a meta manifesto not unlike shipping manifestos from days of LJ past. In keeping with that tradition, this post is a close reading of Dabb Era Destiel in which I argue that by using narrative gaps, queer coding, and romance tropes, Dean and Cas are shown to be in an established relationship. Although beyond the scope of this post, it’s worth pointing out that keeping Destiel mostly off screen was a way for the creatives to bypass network censorship while still remaining true to the characters.

This post is divided into three sections. Section I focuses on giving an overview of why earlier seasons of Supernatural aren’t as compelling as season 12 as a turning point for Dean and Cas’s relationship. That said, special consideration is given to 09.06 “Heaven Can’t Wait” as a potential rest stop in our journey due to it’s significantly placed narrative gap as well as themes in the episode. However, this post isn’t going to examine season 9 trutherism in depth, though it does coexist with and allow for it. Section II analyses season 12 and proposes a timeline and justification for the shifting Destiel dynamic. Finally, Section III will offer an analysis of how Dean and Cas’s relationship has changed dramatically from previous seasons in a way that is most like the shift from a “will they or won’t they” pairing to an established one.

Before I move to Section I, I’d like to note something this post takes for granted: Dean and Cas are the main romantic subplot of Supernatural, and, in fact, their relationship is elevated to main plot for both characters in season 15. This post won’t argue about the canonicity of Dean and Cas’s feelings for each other, therefore, and so won’t spend time looking at many Destiel defining moments. I’d also like to make clear that this post also takes for granted that Destiel is being intentionally developed by the writers starting with Carver’s Era, and more so in Dabb’s.

I. Why Seasons 4 through 11 May Not be It

The tl;dr. here is that while there are many moments throughout these seasons that Dean and Cas could potentially get together, none of those moments are ideal for a bunch of reasons that can be summed up as really bad timing. I also think the narrative is actively pushing them towards a moment that works. We get plenty of stepping stones, especially once we hit seasons 8 through 11 (and 11 most of all).

Seasons 4 & 5:

I know there’s been a lot of get together fics over the years set in this time period, but I just don’t see it. Do I see them being intrigued and drawn to each other? Yes. Do I think either Cas or Dean would act on it? Nope. I’m not arguing anything re: Dean’s feelings, but with everything going at the time I find it hard to believe he’d pursue anything with his angel friend. Most importantly here, though, is that during this time Cas was still very alien and other. There was too much angel in him, and while he obviously came to care about Dean (and Sam) very much, I just can’t see him navigating the realm of human relationships. That said, seeing human!Cas in “The End” is the first we see of potential developments for how Cas could behave without his angelness interfering. Being human changes Cas a lot, beyond even his experience existing among humans, though that of course matters too. This development will be important later /wink.

Seasons 6 & 7:

Before anything else let me just recognize that if we could see some sexual tension in seasons 4 & 5, these two seasons come with our first taste of romantic tension. The pining! Also note the difference between season 4 Cas and season 6 Cas in terms of behaviour. He is much less the angel we saw in that barn in “Lazarus Rising.” In season 6, we have a Cas making misguided decisions guided entirely by his emotions – namely, not wanting to involve Dean with the war in heaven – which is peak human, honestly. Put a pin on how sad Dean is in both seasons with Cas’s absence. Finally, put a pin on this being our first moment of Cas doing things on his own to spare Dean and it not ending well (soulless!Sam, Cas “dying” after Leviathan) because this is *the* hurdle in their relationship (along with Dean’s lashing out and self-worth issues). With all this said, the marked distance between Dean and Cas in these seasons negates the possibility of them entering into any kind of relationship. Much like seasons 4 and 5, there’s too much going on.

Season 8:

Ah, yes, the summer of purgatory. If you thought we had pining before…! I think we’re all very clear on season 8 being a turning point for the show, not only because new showrunner, but we also get the bunker. TFW now has an HQ, which pretty soon becomes home. Yes, Baby will always be home, but the bunker becomes the *unmovable* safe haven that Baby couldn’t be. The bunker is a place to coalesce, and for all the amazing things Baby is, she is not that. The acquisition of the bunker marks a shift in the psychology of the show: with the stable home space we can start to imagine domesticity, a place to come home to, the stuff of ordinary living. Most of all, the bunker is emblematic of security, of safety –keep this in mind, as we go forward.

This season also continues to see Cas go down the path of independently solving his problems instead of asking for help from Sam and Dean (his family in a way heaven never was) – note that the better together issue is at play in different ways with Sam and Dean also, but I digress. I also want to point out disastrous instance #2 of Cas’s insistence on figuring it out on his own: he loses his grace, and the angels fall. As for Dean, season 8’s focus for him has much to do with Sam, and them coming face to face with their issues with codependency, which hit catastrophic levels with the gates of hell and Gadreel plots.

So despite all the deliciously angsty get together purgatory fics and spec, there’s too much distance between Dean and Cas on Cas’s part due to his guilt over betraying the Winchesters in s6 plus slaughtering angels plus unleashing Leviathan. We do see Dean being more emotionally open with Cas and continue to voicing his wish that Cas would just stay with him and Sam, and let them help. It’s clear as day how much Dean cares. The timing is still bad, though.

Before moving on to next season, let’s take a moment to appreciate that this is the season Dean admits being kinda done with one night stands because “always with the adios.” Remember the bunker as a sign of stability? Yeah. I wouldn’t say Dean is craving a relationship, exactly, but I think we can see that he does want something more (ahem also I’m nodding to Cas refusing to stay put just cause).

Seasons 9 & 10:

The most important thing to happen between this two seasons is Cas’s stint as a human for an extended period of time. There’s been plenty of spec and meta written over the years about the effects of being human on Cas’s grace (a proto-soul now maybe?). What we can say for sure, regardless, is that Cas is much more humanized once he becomes an angel again. The understanding he gets from being human doesn’t go away once he regains his angel powers. You’ll notice that while we still see some of season 4’s characterization, Cas is not the same as he was – he is alien to angels now and is more intelligible to humans. Additionally, in an interesting reversal from previous seasons, we now get to see the depth of Cas’s feelings for Dean (thanks, Metatron) as well as seeing him be more open emotionally, while Dean does most of the pushing away (first because of Gadreel, then because of the Mark of Cain). In short, the timing is still bad as Dean and Cas are largely kept apart both physically and emotionally.

9.06 Heaven Can’t Wait

This episode is my white whale, friends. While I’ve come to fully subscribe to the idea that something did happen between Dean and Cas during the fanfic gap, I don’t actually think it’s feasible that it marked the start of a relationship -- be it sexual or romantic. My reasoning here is quite simple: the timing is bad. Were it not for external events (Cas regaining his Grace and Dean taking on the MoC), the course would have likely differed. Furthermore, Dean’s guilt over making Cas leave the bunker as well as Cas’s own hurt and self-loathing pose a significant and as yet insurmountable obstacle, which is easily seen with how Dean and Cas’s character trajectories go separate ways.

YMMV on what exactly happened between them in that Motel, but something definitely did. Perhaps one day I’ll have a proper s9 trutherism post to link to here for more details (likely won’t be written by me, though).

10.16 Paint It Black

From the point Dean gets the MoC until the end of season 10, anything between him and Cas is quite impossible due to distancing, to say the least. Again, yes, the fic is really good, but alas. One of the reasons I’m bringing up this episode in particular is because of the confession scene. One, it’s a rare bit of explicit emotional honesty from Dean, and two, it tells me that while he and Cas may be well aware of the Thing™ between them, it’s still uncharted waters. It’s scary, and murky, and they’re unsure how to navigated it or if they should even try. Makes sense, too, there’s been A LOT going on since s6. Anyway, he’s the full confession:

You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. […] Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. […] Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

Can I just say, first, that this confession keeps me up at night because we never actually see anything done with it explicitly? I mean, obviously, I think we do in fact see the effects of this confession in the show, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this behemoth, but still, like. Damn. Ok, so, remember when I brought up that thing in season 7 about Dean being kinda done with hook-ups? Here’s where that led us. We’re seeing a Dean here who wants more than what he has convinced himself he gets to have. He wants more than dying bloody. And when he talks about wanting to experience people and feelings differently, well, that says a lot not just on the queer coding front or the romantic front. I mean, jfc, Dean is accepting the idea that he can have more in life than just hunt until he drops, and he’s specifically talking about experiences at the interpersonal level.

Do you ever see a character having an epiphany and find yourself wanting to cry because this is it right here. Dean is just blatantly admitting he wants more and maybe he can make himself be open to that (!!!), which all culminates in season 11, so…

Season 11:

The pining is still here, but it’s worse now since it’s the whole plot? It’s been *checks calendar* 5 years of this. How are any of us still kicking I don’t know. Your slow burns could never. Cool worth noting points: Cas says yes to Lucifer (bad decision #2.5, lots of mitigating effects_I don’t actually hold it against him that much but Dean is another story & not entirely rational at this point); for the first time since the early days, Dean and Cas are on equal grounds: they’ve both fucked up a lot and have hurt each other. The issues this season are outside their dynamic. Amara and Lucifer here serve as externalizing forces for Dean and Cas’s problems: Cas checks out with Lucifer because he thinks it’s the only way he can help, Dean is caught up in the turmoil of Amara, the emblem of absence and avoidance of struggle. We do get something like an affirmation from the two of them to each other via Dean calling Cas his brother (and I want y’all to consider the historical queering of that statement, and Cas’s “I could go with you.” It feels like we’re headed to them being on the same page. By the end of the season, though, it feels like we’re getting a clean slate: Mary is back, nobody died, no end-of-the-world in sight, no interpersonal crisis. We’re also getting a new showrunner, so. No wonder. We’re gearing up for something, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What this season does that is super important is that it sets up the stage for the possibility of an actual relationship between Dean and Cas, something that has, up until this point, been pretty much impossible.

11.04 Baby

Y’all know what I’m about to quote here, right? That conversation between Dean and Sam about having something with someone who understands the life. Here we still have Dean reverting to the idea that it’s impossible, which is a direct contrast to the openness in 10.16. It’s understandable, though, considering there’s been little reason to think anything like that would be possible (see all the mess and poor timing from seasons past). The quote in question, though, marks a continuing development regarding the issues Dean is struggling with this season:

DEAN: Piper? That’s awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we’re lucky we still get that at all. SAM: Really? You don’t … Ever want something more? DEAN: I’m sorry, have you met us? We’re batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But … Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

We wouldn’t be talking about this stuff all these years after Sam and Dean had a serious relationship if it wasn’t important, right? Also who else do we meet this season? That’s right! Eileen! And doesn’t that hit different with season 15 hindsight? And who does Dean have that understands the life? Whose stories have been intricately connected to his? Right now, this is all conjecture. A pipe dream Sam is revisiting, and Dean is skeptical about. Except, well. Look at what we get in “Into the Mystic” and “The Chitters.”

11.11 Into The Mystic

I’m bringing up this episode as a cross reference to “Paint It Black” as well as to complement the talk from “Baby,” and to show, again, that, for all the closeness between Dean and Cas, there’s still a marked distance they haven’t yet bridged. There’s still truths they haven’t told each other. Thanks Mildred for the delicious exposition:

Darlin’…If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years on the road, it’s when somebody’s pining for somebody else. […] Oh, don’t try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember?

11.19 The Chitters

And here we see some validation to Sam’s imagining of a possible future with someone else. We actually see hunters who not only are married, but they both make it out alive. Jesse and Cesar get their happy ending. They make the dream come true. And the reality of it important not just for Dean to see, but Sam too.

Dean: [with realization] Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] Cesar: Yeah. Dean: Okay, that’s… Cesar puts his beer bottle on the table and looks at Dean, while Jesse is being silent. Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? Cesar: Smelly, dirty. [turns to Jesse] Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

I’d like to point out, too, that the fear of getting ganked is thematic when it comes to the tension between Dean and Cas. More on this when we hit s13.

Alright, now, having said that, let’s take a look at season 12. Bear in mind, this is the official start of Dabb’s era, even if he kinda began taking over in season 11, and the change in vibes is obvious. In fact, 12 jumped out at me as a turning point, in hindsight, after getting smacked by the domesticity of seasons 13 and 14.

II. Why Season 12

[Out of date section. Update coming soon when spoons. After significant debate, I’ve altered the definitive start of Dean and Cas’s friend-with-benefits-with-mutual-pining relationship to between 12.02 and 12.03. I briefly explained why here, and yes it’s a shitpost--still true tho.]

Finally, the promise land, y’all. Getting right to it: what s11 was for Dean in terms of setting up the relationship stage, s12 was for Cas. In its initial beats, any way. That is, until the Kelly debacle, this was the longest Cas has been around the bunker and with the exception of seasons 13 and 14, it’s one of the first times we get to see how Cas might actually fit into the bunker-as-home. Things seem remarkably chill. Of course, we’ll notice that there’s still a lot of baggage hanging around because despite Dean and Cas being in a more stable place, they haven’t actually dealt with their interpersonal problems. I didn’t single out directly this episode, but do keep in mind Cas’s declaration in 12.09 First Blood as far as how much the Winchesters matter to Cas & how we also see Dean and Cas be particularly singled out with them seating together in the backseat of the Impala. What we also see this season is Cas trying to prove he is worthy of this family, his family. He’s not fighting for heaven or to right some grievous wrong (a la s8). No, this season he’s fighting to spare the Winchester, to bring them a win. To bring Dean a win. The major disconnect is that Dean (and Sam & Mary) already sees Cas that way, he doesn’t think Cas has anything to prove. And just maybe, Cas starts believing that too – or, at least, believing it enough.

12.10 Lily Sunders Has Some Regrets

This episode, oh my god, the goodness. In the wake of 12.09 we have Dean and Cas in a tiff because Cas mistake #3 (killing Billie and “cosmic consequences”), this is a pattern. Twice the worry of getting ganked, etc etc. But where this episode really shines is through the contrast between Ishim’s obsession with Lily and Cas & Dean’s mutual affection for each other. Ishim sees no difference here and, to him, Cas’s feelings for Dean are a human weakness. Returning to my point about human!Cas, this episode underscores that Cas’s increasing humanity is what puts him in the place where he can want what Dean wants instead of either being too alien to get it (see s4 & 5) or unable to experience it properly (Ishim).

12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)

Cas’s trajectory culminates here with the whole I love you (@ Dean), I love all of you (@ Winchesters). Let’s note too that Cas is dying here, in a way that is much more human than going up in light. This declaration of different types of love is entirely human. It’s also a definitive step wrt to Cas and Dean’s relationship because of what happens in 12.19. This. is. it. Oh, and, of course, let’s not forget to point to Dean’s face when Cas says that “I love you,” and how terrified he is that Cas is dying. Might make one rethink some things, hm?

12.19 The Future

This episode is simply hella suspicious, and all the kudos to Berens and Glynn for writing it. It’ll haunt me forever. Consider watching it again and just questioning everything. So. Weird things:

1. Dean’s reaction to Cas no getting in touch as opposed to Sam’s. Dean is pissed, which is Dean-speak for worried out of his mind. Sam is very worried, too, and puzzled, but he’s mostly expressing his relief that Cas is back. But Cas has gone awol before, but this time Dean is much more worked up about it; Sam takes note of this, too. Now, let’s imagine that maybe the events of 12.12 led to something happening between Dean and Cas. Then Cas decided to leave to find a lead on Kelly, but eventually Cas decides to work with Heaven and goes radio silent. For days. Having taken a chance, and something having happened between them, how would Dean react to Cas just going poof and not contacting him – despite Dean having called Cas multiple times.

2. Cas knows about the Colt. Ok, nothing off there. But when he goes to Dean’s room to talk, right after Dean leaves we see Cas looking around briefly. Like he know Dean would keep it in there. Maybe Cas had looked other places already. Who knows. What we do know is that eventually he does find the Colt not only in Dean’s room, but under Dean’s pillow. Sam didn’t even know the Colt wasn’t in the safe. So how did Cas know?

3.“He came into my room and he played me.” So, this quote right there, makes it seem like some seduction for personal gain, right? But can you see Cas actually doing that if they hadn’t gone there previously? For Dean not to suspect anything and go with it? There’s plenty of plausible deniability here, but the gaps in time in the narrative make me question what is there in those spaces. The scene where Cas tried to give Dean the mixtape back doesn’t read like “playing,” so it’s about a different interaction. Hm. Hmmm.

4. Dean and Cas’s brief conversation in Dean’s room is clearly Dean just wanting Cas to stay, so they can work (and be) together – because they’re better that way. Which, yeah, truth, but also ow.

5.And most importantly: When did Dean give Cas that mixtape??? How did that happen?

Sequence of events: Cas tells Dean he loves him – Dean is clearly shook by it – Dean gives Cas a mixtape (romantic gesture, often a declaration of feelings; in true Dean speak too lolsobs) – Cas goes awol - Dean acts like he got ghosted by his new bf -?????- Cas somehow knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow – "He went into my room and he played me."

What am I supposed to do with that, hm? Like. Y’all realize they probably had some emotionally constipated getting together moment, right? Something that Dean clearly initially thought meant things were gonna change, now. Something that Cas couldn’t allow to happen until he could give Dean a win. Y’all are seeing this, yeah? I’m not saying they slept together and were full of feelings, except that’s kind of what I’m saying. But YMMV, there are other possibilities beyond sex. The full of feelings isn’t up for debate, though, even if the whole thing is informed by ridiculous amounts of miscommunication.

III. Seasons 13 through 15 As Established Relationship

Regardless of what happened in season 12, exactly, I can’t shake the feeling that something did happen, and something did change. My reasoning here is actually really simple: in comparison to previous seasons, Dean and Cas’s dynamic shifts significantly come season 13. I know some folks have been disappointed with some of season 13 and then season 14 for having dialed back on the destiel side of things. And, hey, maybe there’s truth to that in terms of backstage stuff, but I also want to point out that...well, the dialing back isn’t quite dialing back is it? Let’s look at 13 a little more closely:

Season 13:

So I said the deancas dynamic changed, right? I also think that change caught us unaware because the pivotal turning point that would cue us in never happened on screen as well as being subsumed by Cas’s death and Jack’s birth. But if I ask you about deancas in season 13 what would come to mind? Grief arc? Brokebacknatural? How domestic Dean and Cas are? There’s just something easy about their relationship after Cas returns from the Empty. The tension we’d grown so familiar with over the years is gone. Actually, it feels like we skipped the getting together bit of their relationship and went straight to established relationship and parenting. Some of the most peak married deancas moments we see circulating? Season 13, (and 12.10). It’s a lot, and it’s different, and it’s amazing.

13.01-13.05

Dean’s grief mini-arc. He was acting like a widower. Here’s me vaguely gesturing towards the mapping of Jonh, Mary, Dean, and Sam onto Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack. And the reunion? I can’t help but be giddy at the song choice: “it’s never too late to start all over again.” To. Start. All. Over. Again. I’m just saying.

13.06 Tombstone & 13.16 Scoobynatural

I’m not going at length about these episodes, I just want to point out that they reveal that Dean and Cas have a whole thing going on off screen: they watch movies together, Cas knows about Dean being an angry sleeper, Cas seems to have been aware of the Dean-cave before Sam was. It’s little things like this that are examples of the narrative gaps surrounding Dean and Cas that have cropped up over the years. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to wonder what else could be hiding there. And when did the movie nights alluded in “Tombstone” happen? Maybe in season 12 when Cas in hanging around the bunker? The same period when Dean and Cas seem to be coalescing into something safer and more stable? Something that we never see come to a head because plot happens and Cas dies? Something that is immediately taken back up once Cas is alive again?

Season 14:

Overall, this season is more of what we got during 13, but it had two high notes I wanted to single out before ending this already too long post.

14.15 Peace of Mind

Look me in the eye and tell me Dean and Cas talking in the kitchen about Jack doesn’t read like husbands talking about their child. Look me in the eye and tell me Cas just texting Dean to gossip about Sam isn’t couple-y as hell.

14.18-14.20

Ah, yes, the divorce arc. Awful. Terrible. The culmination of Dean’s problem in all this: he lashes out, he pushes Cas away, his anger is alienating. Cue all of us suffering. But while Dean is clearly in the wrong in how the deals with his feelings, let’s not pretend some of his anger doesn’t come from a long established, and unaddressed, rift between him and Cas, which had its last traumatic turn when Cas died in s12. Dean isn’t being rational here: he saw Cas doing something on his own, and he saw that his mother is dead. What else could happen? Why won’t Cas just trust they can work as a team? What if Cas died again? And why should Cas put up with Dean’s behavior without knowing the cause? How can any relationship work this way? But notice how caught in the middle Sam was during all this. Notice how Jack is running off and acting out. The whole family is falling apart. Divorce arc, indeed.

Season 15:

But what about what we’re building up in 15? That seems like it could be a getting together plot, too, right? Well, yeah. It could very well be. But I’d argue the tension we’re seeing isn’t a will-they-or-won’t-they because they already have. We’re are watching a getting back together plot! The tension is, instead, will-they-or -won’t-they use their words to talk about the baggage that has kept them from truly being confident about their relationship. That’s the crucial step in their togetherness that they’re still missing, which is also the bedrock of the divorce arc that spanned twelve fucking episodes -- y’all, that’s half a season.

And technically? We’re not even done with yet because Cas never let Dean finish his prayer/confession in purgatory. What’s more, Cas hasn’t grappled with his role in the breakdown of their relationship, either: that he keeps going off on his own and getting hurt (and getting other people hurt), and Dean has to deal with the fallout. The deep emotional understanding, the truly being on the same page is what we’re on the edge of our seats for. We’re waiting to see what else Dean had to say, and what will happen when Cas’s deal with the Empty comes to light.

Finally, could we still have this plot without Dean and Cas having gotten together off screen? Sure, but I think the stakes are higher if they already did have something between them. If they actually have an established romantic relationship going on. Something real and tangible and as of yet much too fragile.

"...you asked what about all this is real. We are."

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #spn meta #this thing is gargantuan yikes #anyway enjoy? let's chat #my writing #this thing is half meta half my adhd unleashed

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

Text

PART 5 | previously: part 4 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

rating/warnings: swearing, angst (?), mention of scars, implications of trauma

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: ahh hiii!! im really happy with how this part turned out and i hope you all like it too!! [finally some softer Bakugou hehe] thank you for all the love on this, i really appreciate it you have no idea :))taglist is still open!✨ enjoy xx

•

Five: scars

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I’m not answering that. That’s way too personal,” huffed Bakugou. You sighed. Clearly getting to know Bakugou is easier said than done.

“Bakugou, I asked you what your favorite color is, not what you like to do in the shower dumbass,” you groaned. Bakugou crossed his arms.

“Still…”

“In all honesty I could probably guess it. Red right?” You suggested. Bakugou shook his head.

“No it’s, uh, it’s orange,” he whispered, “what’s yours?”

“(color),” you said. Bakugou nodded.

“Not surprised,” he smiled.

“Okay next question and this one I’m dying to know. Why do you want to be a hero?” You asked. Bakugou’s eyes widened.

“Why do I want to be a hero?” He repeated. You nodded.

“Yeah I mean you’re so driven, so what drives you?”

“Um it’s kinda stupid…”

“I’m sure it’s not,” you smiled. Bakugou looked down at the palms of his hands.

“I like to win and seeing someone like All Might when I was growing up and how he always won, well I wanted to be like him. Everyone loves heroes, that’s why we admire them. I guess I just want that too. Being a hero is just something I’ve always wanted. Sometimes you just know you want something, and that’s reason enough to pursue it,” he explained.

For maybe the first time, Bakugou’s voice was soft when he spoke to you. He looked almost vulnerable.

“That’s not stupid at all,” you whispered. Bakugou’s eyes grew. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah and because I’m the best so obviously I had to be a hero,” he said. You chucked.

“Sure you are Katsuki.”

“Okay well why do you want to be a hero?” He asked. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Oh uh that’s okay. Anyway, I’m asking the questions not you,” you protested.

“THAT'S NOT FAIR!” He gripped onto your wrist, “come on Y/N.”

You took a deep breath.

“When I was little, I didn’t have too many friends. I’m the only one in my family with a quirk so they never really knew what to do with me, let alone deal with a quirk like mine,” you began.

“Wait so your parents don’t have quirks?” You shook your head.

“Nope. We have this weird mutation in my family where it is way more common to not have a quirk. So you can imagine my parents' surprise when I had one. It’s kinda funny actually; the first time I used my quirk, I accidentally blew up my parents bedroom,” you confessed. Bakugou chuckled.

“I can relate to you on that note.”

“And so when school rolled around, all the other kids were pretty scared of me. None of the girls wanted to be friends with someone with a scary quirk and all the boys were too nervous to even talk to me. So I built up some pretty tough skin. In all honesty, I hate being alone or the feeling of being alone. So when I started to learn about heroes, I knew I wanted to be just like them. Everyone loves them and wants to be their friend. They are always there for everyone. So to answer your question, I want to be a hero so that maybe even one person could feel a little less alone, even if that person is me.”

Your face felt criminally warm. You never told anyone that before. For some reason, Bakugou was easy to talk to.

You looked up at Bakugou, your eyes felt a little foggy.

“And because I want to kick villain ass, obviously,” you joked to break the tension.

“You feel alone too?” whispered Katsuki. Your eyes widened.

“Yeah, being alone terrifies me. I’m not the best at keeping people too close either. I think I just force myself into this cycle of pushing and pulling people away, but it never works so I end up by myself,” you explained.

“I know how you feel…”

“You do?”

“Yeah dumbass. I don’t like getting help from people, even if I need it. I’m not very good at expressing myself anyway though…”

Your heart ached as you looked at Bakugou. Iida was right, the two of you might have more in common that you actually thought.

“I thought you liked being alone?” You questioned.

“I mean yeah, doesn’t everyone? There’s a fine line between being happy alone and being afraid alone. I guess I’m not too sure where that line is,” he explained.

“I’m not too sure either. I think you’ll need someone to fish you out if you start to go below the line and bring you back down to earth when you get too far above.”

“Maybe…I guess I’m still waiting for that someone.”

“Like when the League got you?” you blurted out. Bakugou’s eyes widened.

“WAIT UH I’M SORRY I SHOULDN'T HAVE-”

“Yeah exactly like that,” said Bakugou. You sighed.

“I bet you were pretty scared...I know I would’ve been,” you whispered.

“Yeah I was…”

Without thinking, you took Bakugou’s hands gently. He flinched at your touch.

“It’s okay…”

“Your hands are rough,” he admitted. You sighed.

“That’s what happens when I use my quirk without my gloves. As a kid I didn’t know that when I used my quirk my skin would burn up. So now I’ve got these nice scars all over my palms,” you explained. You took your hands back from Bakugou, rubbing them together.

“Sorry uh, I don’t know why I did that…” you mumbled out of embarrassment.

Bakugou slowly took your hands again. He flipped your palms up, and began to slowly trace along your scars.

“We’ve all got scars. Some of them are just easier to see than others.”

Bakugou continued to drag his finger along every line of your skin. He was gentle as he memorized every crack and bruise on your shaky hands. Before you even knew it, your eyes began to water.

“I hate my quirk,” you blurted out. Bakugou looked up at you.

“What?”

You sniffled.

“Some days I wish I was quirkless like the rest of my family. I’m such a pain and I ruin everything. How could anyone like someone with a quirk like mine?” you cried. Bakugou let out a long sigh.

“You’re so stupid,” he said. Your eyes widened.

“W-what?”

“Come on idiot, I don’t believe you for a second. I’ve seen you use your quirk. I’ve seen the way your stupid eyes light up everytime you throw one of your bonds. I’ve seen how excited you get when you get to fight someone, especially when it’s me. You’ve got a good quirk, I mean not as good as mine but still good. If you are really trying to tell me you hate your quirk, you are gonna need to do a better job at convincing me.”

He notices all that?

“As always you see right through me,” you sniffled.

“You may be a pain but I think I’d feel a little incomplete with you,” said Bakugou. Your eyes widened.

“Without you bothering me I mean, because I’m so used to it,” he clarified. You nodded.

“Same here. You know Bakugou, you’re not that scary.”

“I’m not?”

“Nope. You’re kinda like an angry, ANGRY, teddy bear,” you joked. Bakugou’s face turned pink.

“I AM NOT!”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“See, exactly like that!”

“Whatever...” huffed Bakugou.

“You know what I think, Katsuki?”

“Please, enlighten me,” he said sarcastically.

“I think you just really need a hug.”

Bakugou’s face froze and he looked down.

“I don’t remember the last time I got a hug…” he mumbled. Your heart dropped. You looked to see that Bakugou was still holding your hands. His thumbs rubbed against your hands without him even realizing it. You scooched off of the table to stand, pulling Bakugou towards you.

“What are you doing?” He asked. You pulled him towards you again until he hopped off the table.

“Just trust me okay?” Bakugou stood in front of you and you slowly let go of his hands. You took a step forward and began to wrap your arms around his waist. He flinched.

“It’s okay…” you reassured him. Bakugou nodded. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his broad chest. He just stood there.

“I’m sorry for everything…” you whispered.

You knew that you could never fully understand Bakugou, no one could. He had gone through more in his 3 years at UA than anyone. His scars might not be visible to the eye, but you could see them clearly. The thing is, you might have been the only person who could somewhat see the real Bakugou.

After those words left your lips, Bakugou hugged you back tightly. He clenched part of your shirt in his fist as he sobbed quietly. It was in that moment that Bakugou let out all that pent up pain, anger, fear, and emotion from the past 3 years.

The two of you probably stood there in silence for no more than a few minutes, but it felt like a blissful eternity. You didn’t want to let go of him and even if he wouldn’t admit it, Bakugou didn’t want you to let go either.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You give shitty hugs,” he joked. You laughed and moved to look at Bakugou.

“Well what kind of enemy would I be if I gave you a good one?” You smiled. Bakugou let go of you and gave you a small smile.

“Uh I think I’m gonna head up to my room,” he said. You nodded.

“I think I’m gonna stay down here and get some work done,” you replied. Bakugou handed you the keys.

“Alright well uh, I’ll see you later dumbass.” Bakugou packed up his things and began to walk up the stairs.

“Katsuki?” You called. He faced you.

“What nerd?”

“Still hate me?”

Bakugou smirked.

“Damn right I do,” he said. You smiled.

“Good. Then the feeling is mutual.”

Bakugou left and you were now alone. You had this weird feeling in your stomach when he left. Like the feeling when you are on top of a roller coaster and it is about to drop. Like the feeling of when you're excited to see someone after a long time. Like the feeling of nervousness mixed with joy. You didn’t like this new feeling. You didn’t understand it.

So, you ignored it.

•

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rawmeanderson · 4 years ago

Text

pretty please ― friday.

ft. Kevin Hayes plot: with Kevin, Brady, and Jimmy all gone from New York and the new season about to start, everyone gets together for a long weekend. warnings: swearing, drinking, body issues, all sorts of sexy things but no penetrative sex. word count: 9.2k, making this the longest thing i’ve ever posted, holy shit. special thanks: a big thank you goes to @danglesnipecelly for proof reading for me, and also to @capobiancos for being such a wonderful hype person that validates my long winded chapters 🤗 notes: so, I basically lay out all of season two of Fleabag in this chapter in a way that would definitely fall under the realm of spoiling it, so I apologize if that upsets anyone! with that warning, I definitely encourage everyone to take the time to watch the series at some point because it lives rent free in my mind and will continue to do so for the rest of time. part of this takes place on a boat, and i’ve got to say, I don’t know a fucking thing about boats so i’m sorry if I got anything wrong 😂

THURSDAY

A knock on the door woke you up with a start the next morning, your body jolting for a brief second before you yawned, stretching out along the mattress. A second knock followed shortly after, and only then did you remember that someone had knocked to begin with, and that you weren’t even at home.

“Yeah?” you grumbled a second later, rolling onto your opposite side to face the door.

“Hey, it’s me,” Sophie said, opening the door enough to slip inside. She was still in her pjs, a sleepy smile on her face as she crossed the room.

You reached for your phone, checking the time and seeing that it was just a little after 10. There was a text from Kevin from 17 minutes ago, reading “Fleabag today?” You’d reply to it soon.

“Morning,” you yawned, stretching out along the mattress as she joined you in bed. She did this often at home on weekend mornings, usually to discuss what to do for breakfast or how to spend the day.

“Mm, good morning,” she responded, already wrapping her arms around you as she pressed her face into the back of your shoulder. Sophie had always been a physically affectionate person, and you knew that was one of the things you’d miss the most when she moved. “Are you having fun?”

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes. Of course she was checking up on you. “Yeah, Soph, I’m okay,” you assured her, putting your hand over hers were she was holding onto you. “It’s good to see everybody.”

“Yeah, it really is,” she said, exhaling a content sigh. “What did you and Kevin talk about last night?” The question was innocent enough, but you could tell that she’d been dying to ask since you and Kevin had rejoined the group last night.

“We just caught up, really,” you told her, turning your head to yawn into your pillow quietly. “He wants me to come visit him in Philly sometime.”

“Aww, he’s always been so sweet on you. He was super happy when I told him you were coming this weekend.” Her words surprised you, making your cheeks burn a little, but you didn’t respond otherwise. Sophie knew that you and Kevin had hooked up before, and had always encouraged you to pursue him more. “We’re going swimming off the boat later, you should come with us.”

You made a slightly noncommittal sound, shrugging. “Maybe. Kevin wants to watch season two of Fleabag today, so I guess it depends when you leave,” you said, which resulted in Sophie making kissy sounds in your ear. “Oh my god, stop!” You both laughed as you elbowed her in the ribs gently, which only made her hold you tighter.

A quiet sigh left you, and the two of you laid there for a few minutes longer, until Sophie started snoring softly. With a soft laugh, you nudged her awake gently, and she groaned, forcing herself to sit up. You promise to get out of bed and join her in the living room soon, sending Kevin a quick thumbs up emoji, tacking on “I’ll be functional in 10 minutes” as you finally got to your feet.

You changed out of your pjs into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, tying your hair up in a bun as you crossed the hall to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Kevin had texted to say they’d be back in a few, but you hadn’t even realized that he had left.

Still feeling relatively sleepy, you settle into the corner of the couch in the living room next to Sophie, learning from someone that Kevin and Nolan had gone on a coffee run. Just as they get back, you were wishing you’d known that so you could’ve asked Kevin to bring you back something. It surprised you then, when there was suddenly a cup being offered to you.

“Caramel iced coffee, biggest one they had,” he said, tilting his head as he looked down at you. A smile spread across your face, feeling a tug of affection in your chest over the fact that he had remembered your coffee order. You thanked him, and he looked rather proud of himself for getting it right.

“You ready for some Fleabag?” you asked, taking a sip as you looked at him with raised eyebrows. You wished you didn’t feel so giddy, that the idea of spending the next three hours with him didn’t have you damn near preening.

“Hell yeah,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the hallway. “My room’s got a TV in it, and I think I figured out how to stream to it.”

You hadn’t fully gotten around to thinking about where you’d be watching the show, so the mention of Kevin’s room, where you’d both surely be sitting on the bed, made you straighten up a little more. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you said, flashing a grin and taking another long sip of coffee.

As you get to your feet, Sophie caught your eye, wiggling her eyebrows at you. If you were closer, you’d swat at her playfully, but you settled for rolling your eyes at her instead.

Kevin had already showered, you realized, as you followed him to his room. His hair was still damp, and you could smell his body wash and cologne when you stepped past him into the room. Silently, you wish you’d taken the time to shower, knowing the smell of last night’s fire still clung to your hair.

You were eying the armchair closer to the TV when Kevin dropped onto the bed, sprawling out, but you knew it’d be weird to sit that far away. God, Kevin took up so much of the bed that it was a little absurd, his legs stretching out along the mattress, hand behind his head where he was propped up by the pillows. His attention was on the remote, and you cast a final look at the armchair before he patted the spot next to him on the bed without looking at you.

Your shoulders were tense as you walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting down and leaning back against the headboard. Kevin looked up at you, and you cursed the fact that with you sitting up, he could see one of your worst possible angles. He smiled either way and you willed yourself to relax.

Even after just one night at the cabin, the bed smelled like him. It was both calming and borderline panic inducing, making it impossible to stop yourself from thinking back to his bed and the way the sheets slid along your skin as he...fuck. This wasn’t what you needed to be thinking about when you were poised to be spending the next three hours on the (much smaller) bed next to him. What didn’t help at all was the hand Kevin put on your knee, squeezing lightly, almost looking like a giddy little kid as he pressed play on the first episode of the season.

“You ready to cry, Hayes?” you asked quietly, looking down at him. He looked so comfortable and relaxed, stretched out beside you.

“Man, I guess. Is it really that sad?” he questioned, eyes moving from the screen to you for a short moment. His voice was as soft as yours was, deep and gravely enough that you felt it practically vibrate through your body.

“Kind of, yeah,” you said with a laugh, sipping at your iced coffee. “Honestly, I cried like a baby through a good chunk of it. It felt really personal, especially the first time I watched it.” He nodded, eyes lingering on you before they went back to the screen just in time for Fleabag to say ‘this is a love story.’

You’re both pretty quiet through the first episode, with Kevin muttering about how much of a slime ball Martin was. True to your own nervous habits, you sucked down your iced coffee pretty quickly, as it gave you something to think about other than the 6’5” wall of muscle stretched out next to you.

“Is she gonna fuck the priest?” Kevin asked, looking up at you as the credits for the first episode rolled. Laughing softly, you leaned to put your now empty cup on the end table next to the bed.

“You’ll see,” you responded, eyes meeting his when you settle into the bed a little more. Your gaze dropped to his mouth for a brief second before you forced yourself to look back to the TV.

“Whenever you say that, it always means ‘yes,’” he teased, still watching you as the next episode started. He kept sneaking glances at you as it played but you kept your eyes trained forward.

It would be impossible to count how many times you’d watched Fleabag. Since it was only 12 half hour episodes in total, it was easy to rewatch in a single afternoon, making it an easy comfort watch when you were feeling down. Watching it with Kevin though, hearing him make quiet predictions and chuckling here and there, warmed you down to your soul. He had always seemed to enjoy the movies and shows you recommended to him, which had always left you feeling...valued by him. You tried not to let your mind dwell on the fact that he’d been waiting for this, to watch Fleabag with you for over a year and a half because it reminded you of the distance that would be between the two of you again in just a matter of days.

By the start of the third episode, you were sitting up more, your legs crossed and your elbows on your knees, like putting more space between you and Kevin would stop your chest from feeling like it was caving in. The iced coffee had made you a little jittery and restless, and just when your throat was starting to feel tight from thinking too hard about everything, you felt his hand rub over your back.

You glanced back at him and he smiled softly, his fingers tracing up your spine. His touch was warm and soothing, and the loud laugh he let out over the award debacle in the episode sounded so happy and genuine that you decided you never wanted to leave this bed. The curtains were closed, keeping the room relatively dark despite the early afternoon sun outside.

Hot Priest had shown up again, and just as sexual tension was building on the show, you swore you could feel it building between you and Kevin as well. You were still sitting up, his hand still on your back by the time you gave in, sliding down to lay beside him. He watched you as you moved, his arm slipping around your shoulders easily when you curled into his side. It had been more than a year and a half since you’d laid like this with him, your head on his shoulder, but the position was still so familiar that you sighed comfortably.

The two of you were quiet and still for a while as the fourth episode started, and Kevin was the first to move, turning his head enough to kiss the top of your head. His stubble brushed against your hair and his arm tightened around you. When he laughed, you could feel his body rumbling with it.

“Oh, she’s totally gonna fuck the priest,” he murmured to you, his mouth against the top of your head, speaking as the confessional scene started. The words were so low that it sent a jolt of desire through you that only made you lean into Kevin more.

The make out scene that followed seemed to have both of you holding your breath until the painting fell on screen, jolting both of you and the characters. Kevin exhaled a breath and you found yourself laughing softly, tilting your head up to look at him.

“You good?” you asked, grinning as you tried to stop yourself from thinking about just how close his face was to yours.

“Yeah,” he responded, holding your gaze as the credits rolled. Your hand on his chest curled into a fist as you remembered how good the prickle of his stubble always felt against your palm. His eyes dropped to your mouth as his fingers slid over the nape of your neck. You didn’t doubt that he felt you tense against him as a shiver ran through you from the contact.

You wanted to kiss him, wanted to press your body against his and never pull away, but instead you tucked your head against his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind, rubbing his hand over your back again comfortably.

Kevin roared with laughter over Claire’s haircut, almost as much as you had when you first watched it. You couldn’t help but laugh with him, enjoying the way his body shook against yours. When he quieted down again, you could hear his heartbeat as you pressed your ear to his chest. If you closed your eyes, it would probably feel like everyone was back in New York, that you’d have all the time in the world to stay like this.

At the end of the episode, when the sexual tension exploded on screen, Kevin nudged you. “Called it,” he said, murmuring the words against your temple as he nosed at your messy hair. His voice vibrated through you in a way that made you feel warm all over. As badly as you wanted to, you didn’t look up at him, knowing that you wouldn’t have the self control not to cross that invisible line.

As the final episode started, you realized just how warm it had gotten in the room, and being curled up against Kevin like you were hardly helped. This episode always tore you apart then put you back together again, and you lifted your head to glance at him once when Hot Priest was giving his speech about how love is awful, then nuzzled right back into his shoulder for the time being.

You weren’t sure if it was Sophie’s impending move or the fact that Kevin was with you, but as soon as This Feeling started at the end of the episode, there were tears in your eyes. The song itself just felt like it was hitting harder, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek as you sniffled. Kevin’s arm tightened around you as the credits rolled, kissing your hair again as he sighed a moment later.

“When is season three coming out?” Kevin asked eventually, his cheek resting against the top of your head as his thumb rubbed firmly over your shoulder blade.

You lifted your head to look at him, knowing tears were still swimming in your eyes. “That’s it. There’s not gonna be a season three,” you told him with the same sad smile you always had when remembering what you’d just told him.

“What? Are you fucking kidding?” he questioned, sounding outrightly offended. You snorted softly, still looking at him as you laughed. Now that the show was over, you weren’t able to distract yourself from how badly you wanted to stay just like this for the rest of the weekend.

“Phoebe’s busy! She’s got Killing Eve to work on, plus she did the screenplay for the new James Bond movie,” you told him, shifting onto your stomach a little more so you didn’t have to crane your neck to look up at him. His arm resettled around your waist, keeping your body pressed close against his. “Besides, how could she ever create something else as perfect as that second season? It’s just impossible.”

Kevin hummed once, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right,” he murmured, eyes moving over your face. “I’m glad I waited to watch it with you.” His voice was softer, making your heart race as he brushed his knuckles over your cheekbone.

“So, it was worth the wait?” you responded quietly, tilting your face toward his a little more.

“Oh yeah, you always have been,” he told you, making you crack a wide smile as you scoffed.

“Damn, that was smooth,” you teased, licking your lips as he grinned. He shrugged it off, and you wondered if he realized how obvious he was being, staring at your mouth like he was.

“Always have been,” he repeated, making you snort. Before you could laugh, his hand slid along your jaw, drawing you close enough that he could kiss you.

It’s probably for the better that he kissed you, considering you wouldn’t have been nearly this slow about it. He was still cupping your jaw, keeping you close as you leaned into him more. You were trying to pace yourself as want coursed through you, and you realized that he’d never kissed you like this.

The pair of you had hooked up about half a dozen times, and each time was rough and hungry, but now, the leisurely pace of it had your toes curling. He was kissing you like he had all day to savor you, to wear you down and build you up again. Honestly, you didn’t know if you’d ever been kissed like this.

When he sucked at your bottom lip gently, you sighed against his mouth, unable to hide the way you arched into him. You felt him smile slightly, and it was like your world was on fire. If you had remembered how to move, you would’ve shifted to lean over him, to take it farther, but even kissing him this slowly was taking every ounce of your energy.

He pulled back just slightly, and you were grateful for the chance to breathe. Your body was still buzzing when you smiled, settling your head on his shoulder again. Kevin kissed your forehead then your hair again, exhaling a heavy sigh of his own.

“How long do you think we’d be able to stay here before Sophie comes banging on the door, looking for you?” he asked.

“Probably not long,” you responded, reaching for your phone that you’d left on the nightstand. Checking your notifications, you scoffed as you pressed your face into his shoulder. “I’ve got three texts from her. They’re going swimming off the boat, and were kind of waiting on me.”

Kevin nodded, reluctantly loosening his arm around you. You stayed where you were though, knowing Sophie would survive a few more minutes. Finally, you mustered the motivation to move more than an inch for the first time in over an hour, leaning over him to press a quick, firm kiss to his mouth.

His hand slid to the back of your neck easily, kissing you back harder than he had before, and to stop yourself from melting against him, you pulled back, already moving to the edge of the bed. Kevin made an irritable sound that did wonders for your confidence, and you looked over your shoulder at him with a grin.

“D’you think there’s room on the boat for me to join?” he asked as you got to your feet.

You shrugged quickly, lingering at the edge of the bed. “I’d assume so,” you said, knowing you needed to get back across the hall to change, but it was just too hard to take your eyes off of him right now. “Tell me to go get changed, or else I’m never going to leave.”

Kevin smiled and it was the kind that made you feel warm everywhere, like honey was running through your veins. “Go change, Y/N,” he told you, nodding toward the door. You looked at him for a moment longer before doing as he said, slipping out of his room to return to your own.

You texted Sophie to let her know you’d be ready in a few minutes before stripping out of your clothes. Pulling on your swimsuit was the first time all day that the self-consciousness crept into your mind. You’d been in desperate need of a new suit earlier in the season and, feeling good, you’d ordered one that showed more skin that you were used to. The cutouts at your sides especially had you itching to pull something on over it. The suit fit, but snugly enough that you found yourself trying to tug at it here and there, wanting to make it longer or bigger.

Pulling your shorts on as you grabbed a towel was a band-aid to the feeling, but it did the trick as you ventured out of your room to find Sophie. You made sure to grab sunglasses and a bottle of sunscreen, knowing Sophie always forgot to bring some when needed. She had texted to say they were already down at the dock, and as you headed down to meet them, Kevin was a few steps ahead of you.

He was already shirtless, therefore already distracting. His shoulders were a little pink from being in the sun yesterday, and all that you could think about was running your fingers over the bumps of his spine and dragging your nails over his skin.

Like he could tell you were checking him out, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you, stopping to let you catch up to him. “That color looks great on you,” he told you as you fought the urge to tug at your suit. His eyes were still on you, tracing the curves of your body, and the warm desire that rolled through you was louder than your insecurities.

“You should wear sunscreen,” you told him with a cheeky grin, tossing the bottle to him. He nearly fumbled it, looking like he was proud of himself that he hadn’t dropped it, and you were about to say something else when you heard Sophie yell up to you excitedly from the boat.

“Do you think she’s already drunk?” Kevin asked softly, eyebrow raised as you both stepped onto the dock.

“You know how much she loves day drinking,” you said, shrugging with a little a knowing grin. Sure enough, there was a lemonade Truly in her hand when she made grabby hands at you as you stepped onto the boat.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with us,” Sophie told you, hugging you tightly as if she hadn’t seen you less than four hours earlier. You laugh, hugging her tightly as her attention turns to Kevin. “Ooh, good thinking bringing sunscreen, Kev! Make sure to get Y/N’s shoulders, she always misses the same spot!” She flashed a grin at you, then in typical Sophie fashion, she went back to sit next to Jimmy.

You hated when she put you on the spot like this, but thankfully, Kevin was practically smirking as you stepped aside to give him room to step off the dock. “She never changes, does she?” he laughed, already dropping his towel into a seat. His voice was low and you shrugged because he was right.

“I’d be disappointed if she did,” you responded, tightening the bun in your hair idly. You glanced out at the water simply to keep yourself from looking at Kevin and the way his swimsuit was settled low on his hips.

“I honestly think she might kill me if she doesn’t see me put sunscreen on your shoulders,” he said, nodding toward Sophie who was pointedly watching the two of you while finishing off her drink. You snorted, nodding as he opened the bottle, squeezing some into his hands.

He motioned for you to turn around and with your back to him, your back tensed slightly. The sunscreen was cold against your skin, but Kevin’s hands made up for it, warm and strong as you willed yourself to think about anything but how you’d much rather have his hands elsewhere. He had to know exactly what he was doing with the way his thumb pressed against a spot on your neck that made you exhale a sigh as his hand moved lower down your back.

Across the boat, Sophie was making herself look busy by grabbing another drink from the cooler, and she seemed very pleased with herself.

“There, that should be up to Sophie’s standards,” Kevin said a moment later, dropping onto the cushioned seat behind him as he handed you the sunscreen. “You gonna get my shoulders now, or what?” There was a challenge to his tone, and as you were just about to respond, the boat started to move and you took the opportunity to sit down for the time being.

Kevin was clearly trying to be casual, taking up just as much space as always with his thigh against yours. He was leaning back, his arm stretched out along the back of the seat behind you. Technically, his arm was around you, but he was clearly trying play it cool.

Sophie was in the water the second the boat stopped a few minutes later, and Jimmy joined her after tossing some of the floats in that she’d piled on the deck earlier. You stayed in your seat to watch Sophie and Jimmy splash at each other a bit, laughing as he dunked her underwater. Brady followed them in a minute later, leaving you tucked under Kevin’s arm with the sunscreen still in your hand.

Kevin looked at you expectantly and you scoffed, getting to your feet as you squeezed sunscreen into your hand. He stayed seated with his head tilted up to watch you, a smile spreading across his face.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked as you leaned closer to start rubbing sunscreen onto his shoulders.

“Your tits look awesome in this swimsuit,” he told you, voice low enough that Brady wouldn’t hear him. You hadn’t expected that to be his answer and you scoff, shaking your head as you felt yourself flush. You pinched his neck teasingly, his hand shooting up to catch your wrist, grinning all the while.

“Have I ever told you that you’re annoying?” Your tone is even as you go back to sunscreen duty, his gaze clearly dropping to the neckline of your suit again.

“Pretty often, yeah.” He shrugged nonchalantly and you rolled your eyes as your hand rubbed over the back of his neck. “Can I have a kiss?” Kevin had already tilted his head up to look at you, and fuck, how were you supposed to say no to that.

You leaned in to quickly press your mouth to his, keeping it chaste, but he looked pleased when you pulled back. You don’t stop him when he moved back toward you, stealing another before smacking your ass teasingly. It surprised you and your gasp faded into laughter as he got to his feet to start talking you into actually getting in the water.

The sun was hot, and the five of you stayed out on the water for a few hours, mostly floating around, talking about nothing, really. Kevin seemed to be keeping close to you, and you hardly minded. You made sure Sophie had sunscreen on and she took the chance to wiggle her eyebrows at you suggestively before jerking her head toward Kevin.

Evening had just hit by the time you got back to the cabin and you had desperately needed a shower. You felt like a new person after you re-emerged from the bathroom and joined the group again, just as dinner was nearly ready. Kevin damn near pouted at you when you sat next to Sophie, out of his reach.

You did, however, sit with Kevin and Nolan during dinner, carrying out a casual conversation about Netflix originals versus Hulu originals. Kevin made heart eyes at you the whole time, and it was more than a little distracting. You nudged him under the table with your foot at one point and he took that as encouragement, doing the same back to you.

Pairing up with Sophie, the two of you managed to beat Kevin and Jimmy at pong twice. Music was playing as the others hung around, chatting amongst themselves. Nolan and Brady had pulled up seats next to the pong table, seemingly cheering for you and Sophie. Someone got another fire going as dusk fell, which you all gravitated towards when Jimmy and Kevin decided they didn’t want to lose to you and Sophie a third time.

Brady was drunk in no time, with Jimmy not far behind him. They each decided to try to roast marshmallows, which failed miserably. The night was a little chilly, so you were grateful to be around the fire. You turned your head to glance out at the lake, then looked up at the stars, relaxing back into your chair. When you look back to the fire again, Kevin was watching you, winking at you when you made eye contact. He made you feel like a goddamn teenager with the way the wink had made your stomach flip.

It was nearly 10:30 when you finished the only drink you’d brought down to the fire, and you sighed as you got to your feet. Walking past Kevin, his hand slid around your wrist to stop you. “You going up to grab another drink?” he asked casually, as if his thumb brushing over your skin wasn’t making it difficult for you to think straight.

“That was my plan, yeah,” you responded, looking at him expectantly. Behind you, Sophie was laughing at something, and you could hear the fire crackling.

“Cool, I’ll come with you,” he said, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. When he got to his feet though, his fingers laced with yours as the two of you started up toward the cabin. You almost scoffed teasingly, surprised by the sudden influx of PDA throughout the day as he walked you away from the rest of the group.

Halfway there, walking along the group of trees that separate the cabin from the property next door, you saw Kevin glance over his shoulder briefly. He squeezed your hand, nodding his head toward the trees with a grin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing as you stepped into the thicket. You looked back quickly, and no one seemed to notice the two of you disappearing into the trees.

“Nothing,” Kevin responded in an innocent enough tone that you laughed in response.

“You know there’s a whole cabin up there that we can go to, rather than be in the trees with all of the bugs and sap or whatever, right?” you teased, realizing you were deep enough into the trees that you could barely hear the murmur of the group talking around the fire.

“Too far away,” he said, letting go of your hand to put his arm around your waist.

“So what, we’re gonna make out in the woods for a while?” You were laughing a little as you said it, head tilted up to look at him. The smile on his face made your knees wobble a little as you leaned back slightly into the tree behind you, enjoying the quiet sound of the crickets that surrounded you.

Kevin shrugged, his hand sliding over your waist and along your back. He’d always made you feel so small in comparison to him and now was no exception as he watched your face, like he was enjoying making you wait for more contact. Your hand moved along his chest idly, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your hand before it settled on the back of his neck to pull him down to you.

All the restraint of the kiss earlier had gone out the window, that much was obvious. It was slow, at least to start, your body buzzing as his teeth caught on your bottom lip already. Your arm tightened around his shoulders, keeping him close as he crowded you against the tree. The bark was digging into your back, scratching you a bit through the fabric of your shirt, but you hardly cared.

His tongue slid over yours and you moaned, not even trying to stop yourself. The sound obviously encouraged him, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass as he pressed against you more. Urgency seeped into each of you, making you kiss him harder as your hand slid along his jaw. The scratch of stubble against your palm was better than you even remembered, and the desire to feel the same scratch against the inside of your thighs jolted through you.

After palming at your ass again, his hands moved up to the curve of your waist slowly like he was savoring it. He was pressed flush against you by then, overwhelming your senses as you gripped the fabric of his shirt. You sneaked a breathe where you could, your hand sliding up the thick muscle of his arm and over his shoulder.

Your clit was throbbing between your thighs as you arched toward him, enjoying the soft sound he made feeling your breasts press against his chest. An eager tension was curling up your spine, an impatient, needy sound leaving you as he tugged at your bottom lip teasingly. His mouth left yours to kiss your jaw, coaxing you to tilt your head to the side for him.

Of course, you gave in, your hand sliding into his hair as his kissed along the column of your throat. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day,” he murmured, his mouth against your ear while gripping your hips tightly. “That swimsuit, these fucking shorts.” The sentence is punctuated by him grabbing your ass again, pulling your hips forward into his.

“Fuck, Kevin,” you exhaled, your hand finding his cheek to guide his mouth back to yours. Even with his body pressed against yours like it was, you still needed more.

His hands were everywhere, sliding up to cup your breast over your shirt, the other on your hip. Squeezing your thighs together, you licked into his mouth as your body rocked against his hungrily. You wanted to hate just how easy it was for him to get you wound up like this, but you’d always absolutely melted under his touch.

Impatience was threatening to boil over as your core absolutely ached for him, desperate to feel more of him. The kiss had become a little sloppy, and by the time your hand found his wrist to guide his fingers to the waist of your shorts, your lungs were burning.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against your temple as you both took a few breaths. “You want me to touch you, baby?” he asked, voice low as he kissed your jaw. His fingers toyed with the button of your shorts, making your breathing hitch as you nodded eagerly.

The button came undone, then the zipper, and his hand slipped into your panties, clearly feeling just as impatient as you were. Your arm settled around his neck to keep him close, turning your head to brush your mouth over his again. He happily swallowed the moan you let out as his fingers slid through your folds with ease, exhaling a curse a second later.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured against your mouth, letting the tip of his finger just barely tease at your clit.

“Don’t be a tease,” you pled, half whining for him already as your hips pressed toward his hand. You swore he was smirking even as he kissed you, his other hand coming up to hold your jaw, keeping your mouth against to his.

Kevin had started to rub firm circles against your clit, enough to make you squirm as you pant into his mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this turned on, and you were so hungry for him that you’d completely forgotten that you were pressed against a tree with your friends 30 feet away.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, fingers rubbing firm strokes from your entrance to your clit and back. You could only nod, still trying to kiss him desperately despite the fact that you had barely caught your breath. He was still pressed close against you and you could feel the hard outline of his cock through his shorts which sent another wave of need through you.

A slew of curses left you when he sank two fingers into you, letting the heel of his hand grind against your clit. Your hips pressed toward him urgently, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers, and part of you still could hardly believe this was even happening. His mouth left yours before you were ready, trailing down your neck again to suck at your pulse point. You squeezed his shoulder as your hand curled in the fabric of his shirt, doing your best to catch your breath.

“More, Kev, fuck.” Your words were rushed as you whimpered loudly, feeling his fingers curl against your g-spot. If you had been able to keep them open, your eyes would’ve crossed, exhaling a pleased groan your head fell back against the trunk of the tree behind you.

Your toes curled as heat curled in your stomach, barely able to believe he had you this close to an orgasm already. His fingers were buried deep inside you, fucking into you in shallow motions and giving you the friction that you so desperately needed.

“C’mon, beautiful, I know you can cum for me,” Kevin said, nipping at your jaw then kissing the hollow of your throat. You nodded quickly, opening your mouth to say who knows what, but a moan came out instead.

He cursed into your skin when your hips jerked, and you tumbled over the edge, somehow managing to groan his name as you came. You were practically clinging to him, whimpering and grateful that you were still upright even as your knees shook. Heat wove through you, leaving your mind blank and buzzing by the time you came down, your hips rocking against his hand until you slowed to a stop.

Your eyes were still closed, because you weren’t sure if you remembered how to open them, more concerned about getting air into your lungs. Kevin’s mouth pressed light and gentle kisses up the side of your neck to your cheek, doing nothing to help slow your heart rate down again. When he kissed you on the mouth, it was sweet, but with a hungry edge that made you clench around his fingers again.

“Damn, I forgot how fucking sexy you are when you cum,” he told you, letting his palm grind against your clit again. Your folds were sensitive and the feeling made you gasp, arching away from him with a whine.

When he pulled back, his fingers leaving you, he was smirking and you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him a pleased grin. Your cheeks were flushed and when you licked your lips, you could tell they were swollen. Everything was buzzing still, and like you finally remembered that the two of you were only slightly hidden by the trees, you glanced around quickly.

“Do you think you can keep your dick in check long enough for us to get to your room?” you asked, a teasing tone to your voice as you let your knuckles brush over the hard line of his cock.

“Not if you keep doing that,” he responded, leaning to press a quick, open mouthed kiss to your lips before taking your hand and starting toward the cabin.

You nearly had to jog to keep up with Kevin, and you laughed as you told him to slow down. Glancing over your shoulder, it doesn’t seem that anyone around the fire seemed to notice the two of you slip inside the cabin, only pausing to kick off your shoes.

As soon as the door to his room was closed behind you, his hands were on you again, pulling your body against his. Your head tilted back to meet his kiss, a satisfied hum leaving you at the contact. His hand found your waist, squeezing you there before starting to tug at the fabric of your shirt. He leaned back to pull it off over your head, and you swallowed, grateful that the room was still dark.

You unfastened his shorts, and when your hand slipped inside to stroke him through his underwear, he groaned your name. His mouth crashed into yours again, bringing his hands up to hold your face gently despite the hunger you were both displaying. He kissed you for a moment longer, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, then to your shoulder as you nudged his shorts down.

It was easy to figure out what he wanted when he pressed down on your shoulder lightly. You chuckled, kissing him again before sinking to your knees in front of him. His breathing hitched at the sight of you, and you smirked, already leaning in drag your tongue along the hard line of his cock through the fabric of his boxer-briefs. It would have been impossible for you to forget how much he had loved you going down on him, so why not take the time to tease him a little.

When you looked up at him through your eyelashes, he cursed under his breath as you tugged his underwear down. His eyes were locked on you as his hand moved to push your hair out of your face, keeping his fingers threaded through the strands. With his cock free, you leaned closer to swirl your tongue around the head of it and you could tell that his hands were already shaking slightly.

The grunt that left him when your hand stroked along his length a few times sent heat prickling down your spine as you started to take more of him between your lips. He started panting in response to you dragging your thumb along the underside of his dick, and his hips rocked toward you lazily. His responsiveness to every touch made you all the more eager, letting your hand fall away from him as you took him deeper in your mouth.

You took a breath before letting him start to slide down your throat when his fist tightened in your hair. You arched your back to press your breasts against his legs, nearly gagging around his length as he swore under his breath.

“Fuck, I missed your mouth,” he told you, breathing heavily as you started to bob your head. Alternating between sucking and sliding your tongue over him, you looked up at him again as your clit throbbed between your legs. His brow was creased, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, and he was tense with restraint, his hips twitching toward you.

Your lungs were burning, but the heady taste of him and the sound of his voice when he praised you softly had need burning through your veins. Speeding up slightly, your hand squeezed his thigh, letting your nails dig into his skin and he swore loudly. You let yourself get a little sloppy and your jaw relaxed when he hit the back of your throat. It surprised you a little when he briefly held you in place, but him taking that little bit of control made you moan around him.

As soon as he released you, you pulled off to catch your breath, bringing your hand up to stroke him slowly. His eyes were still locked on you, and you grinned up at him, knowing your lips were slick and swollen. Taking another deep breath, you leaned in again, dragging your tongue along the length. It was getting difficult to ignore the way your folds were throbbing, and you were so wet that the inside of your thighs were slick.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” Kevin warned, his voice tight as his hand in your hair tightened as he guided you back to where he wanted you. You rolled your eyes at him, smirking quickly before opening your mouth to soothe your tongue over the slit at the head of his cock.

Sliding your mouth along his length, sucking eagerly as your nails dragged down his thigh was all it took to make his hips snap forward when he came. He cursed, fucking into your mouth lazily as he spilled hot down your throat. You could feel his knees shaking slightly and you swallowed, starting to bob your head again as you exhaled a content sigh through your nose.

His hand relaxed in your hair and you pulled off, licking your lips as you looked up again. He had a blissed out look in his eye, breathing heavily as he grinned down at you. Sitting back on your heels, you licked your lips as he took another deep breath.

“I think you actually sucked my soul out,” he said a moment later, a chuckle to his voice as he dragged a hand down his face.

You snorted, grinning as you got to your feet. “Glad I could be of service,” you responded, earning a laugh out of him as his hands settled on your waist. He was smiling as he leaned to kiss you, and the second his mouth was on yours again, that intensity was back.

His hands moved to unfasten your bra with ease, tugging the fabric away from your body as he started walking you backwards toward the bed. You followed his lead, gasping when his hand came up to cup your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a greedy hum. The back of your thighs hit the edge of mattress, but you stayed on your feet, unwilling to stop kissing him just yet.

Kevin licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply as his hands slid down to squeeze your ass firmly with a groan. “Lay back for me,” he told you, mouth barely leaving yours. You nodded, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth when you finally pulled back, settling yourself on the mattress.

Before you could pull him down to you, he was reaching to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. Warm light flooded the room and a protest caught in your throat, self-consciousness sweeping through you. Looking up at him, you managed to fight the urge to cover yourself as a flush colored your cheeks.

He was silent, looking over you with greedy eyes as he pulled his shirt off over his head. After tucking his dick back in his boxer-briefs, he kicked his shorts off as well before he stepped between your parted knees. Leaning over you with a hand at your side, he kissed between your breasts and down along your stomach to make your breathing hitch. You didn’t expect him to nuzzle against you like he did, exhaling a breath.

“I missed you so much,” he told you, the words quiet as he glanced up at you. There was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t expected, making your stomach jump as you squirmed on the bed impatiently.

He didn’t give you much of a chance to respond, his hands coming up to tug your shirt and panties down your hips. As soon as he managed to get them untangled from your legs, the fabric joined everything else on the floor, and he pulled you closer to the edge of the mattress as he sank to his knees in front of you.

Kevin didn’t waste anymore time, guiding your legs over his shoulders as his mouth trailed up the inside of your thigh. His breath was hot against your skin and you did your best to relax despite the fact that your hips was already tense with anticipation. You swore loudly when he parted your folds with two fingers, almost immediately leaning in to drag his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, punctuating the motion by sucking the swollen bundle of nerves into his mouth.

“Oh my god, Kevin,” you breathed, already rolling your hips against his mouth greedily. He hummed in acknowledgement, and you swore you felt the vibration run through every inch of you.

“I love how fucking wet you get from sucking me off,” he murmured, eyes sliding up your body as his tongue fucked into you. It was your turn to let your fist curl in his hair, pulling at the short strands as he lapped at your wetness. His nose nudged at your clit and his hand slid along the back of your thigh, pushing it up toward your chest. You loved how he was maneuvering you as he saw fit, positioning you exactly how he wanted you.

One of his hands was under your ass, keeping you propped up for him while the other hand slid up your body to your breast. His tongue continued to slide through your folds, sucking here and there as he toyed with your nipple. He was a little rougher than you had anticipated, and the motion makes you groan, arching off the mattress. You could already feel your orgasm building from being so wound up already, making your toes curl as tension bubbled in your stomach.

“More, Kev, please,” you whined, biting you lip to try and hold back the desperate sounds that rose in the back of your throat. He gave you what he wanted, like he always did, and your clit absolutely throbbed as he sucked it into his mouth again.

With his mouth occupied, he brought two fingers up to tease at your entrance, and you swore loudly as your hips rocked slightly, seeking him out. “You gonna fuck yourself on my fingers, baby?” he asked, the words vibrating through you considering he could barely bring himself to pull away from you.

Immediately, you nodded, then you forgot how to breath all together as he sank two fingers into you, tugging at your nipple at the same time. His tongue was sliding over your clit insistently, drawing figure eights against it as his fingers curled against your g-spot. You saw stars and the sound that left you was nothing short of a sob as your hips rolled against his hand, trying to getting him deeper. Your heel pressed between his shoulder blades, grateful for the extra leverage to help you meet his hand.

Your toes were curled so tightly that your foot threatened to cramp, and when he started to pump his fingers into you to meet the motion of your body, he moaned. The rough stubble covering his jaw had left the inside of your thighs sensitive, bordering on raw, but the irritation only made you that much more desperate. You swore, feeling yourself bow off the bed as he practically devoured you, hitting all of the right spots to send you barreling over the edge and into an orgasm.

He didn’t let up, fingers still fucking into you as his mouth toyed with your clit mercilessly. It was impossible to catch your breath, pleading for him as you tugged at his hair roughly in an effort to keep him close. By the time you stopped squeezing around his fingers, you had relaxed into the mattress and your body felt heavy as your leg stayed draped over his shoulder.

Looking down at him, you realized that his eyes were already on you, his fingers still buried inside you but not moving as he lapped at your folds firmly. He always felt so good, bringing you down easy like this, until all of a sudden it was too much. A gasp ripped through you as you pushed at his head, the reaction met with a laugh as he pulled away from you.

“Sensitive?” he murmured, eyebrow raised as he smirked slightly. You nodded, a lazy smile on your face as you untangled yourself from him. He pressed a kiss to your hip as he withdrew his fingers from you, looking awfully pleased with himself.

Your heart rate had finally started to slow by the time he dropped onto the mattress next to you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek. There was a hazy look in your eye when you looked at him, still unable to figure out how to piece together a sentence.

The two of you laid there for a while, close together and just breathing as your fingers traced shapes along his shoulder. Really, you should’ve moved because your bottom half was still hanging off the edge of the bed.

“You think anyone realized we never came back with drinks?” he asked eventually, his voice a sleepy grumble. You laughed softly, shrugging before you sighed, turning your head to look at him. Leaning forward, you kissed him softly before sitting up. He watched you for a moment longer before he reached for his phone. “Damn, it’s after 11 already.”

“No point in going back out now, if you ask me,” you responded, moving over the mattress to lay your head against a pillow.

You smiled when he moved to follow, already curling up against you. He kissed along your shoulder, nuzzling into the back of your neck after pulled the sheets up to cover you. The cautious voice in the back of your head was telling you that you needed to get up, that you needed to get dressed and go back to your own room, but the bed smelled like him and he was so warm when his leg tangled with yours.

He only pulled back quickly to turn off the lamp before settling against you again even closer, his face pressed into your hair. You were content, even a little sleepy, and getting up wasn’t much of a priority right then. His fingers slid along you waist as the two of you stayed curled up in the dark, slipping into easy conversation.

Kevin had always been pretty quick to fall asleep after a good orgasm, and now seemed to be no exception. The talking tapered off after a while, and his face was pressed into your neck when you heard him start to snore softly. You stayed in place a while longer, nearly squirming with the effort to stay place as the voice in your head got louder and louder.

Your hand slid along his forearm before you untangled yourself from him, finding that your knees are still wobbly when you got to your feet. It was easy enough to find your shorts and your shirt in the dark and you got dressed before going across the hall. The rest of the cabin was quiet and you went straight to your room, stripping out of the clothes again as you pulled your pjs on with shaking hands.

In bed, you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Your feelings for him certainly hadn’t changed, so why would the fact that you never slept in bed with him. Every time you’d hooked up in New York, you pulled yourself out of his bed to go to the guest room. You didn’t know why, but Kevin had never mentioned it. Now though, you felt dirty about it, anxiety prickling at your scalp as you laid there. You could probably slip back in without him realizing it, but you were cemented into the mattress, your mind running a million miles an hours until you finally fell asleep.

SATURDAY

#khayes #nhl imagine #kevin hayes fic #kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes #flyers imagine

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soulguardianazeralith · 4 years ago

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Guess who found @hermitcraftheadcanons ‘s Scattered Au? This bish. Admittedly, it’s a lot to catch up on but so far I’ve kiiiinda got a good idea of it?

Aaaanyways, I saw somefin that caught my eye and it was Grian’s situation. Stuck in the cold, dying to the cold over and over. Getting saved by Doc. It seemed sad but interesting!

But, at least to me, I feel like it needed a small bit of tension. So here I am! Gonna give out a dumb idea I had! I will note, this Grian isn’t a fox mix or has feathery wings. I kiiinda threw in my own version into the mix- you know what, you’ll see what I mean.

TW/CW: Mentions of death, implied animal death, mentions/visual altered body parts. (I’ll probably add more later if asked to add it)

Hope y’all enjoy. Also I apologize if it ends up being short. Writing isn’t my strong suit. :\

———

The compact snow was deceptively deep, nearly dropping Doc to his knees with each step forwards. Many times he almost even rolled backwards, barely avoiding a long and steep drop to his death. It was a miracle he could even climb this far, or that there was more to still climb. His vision faded for a moment before he jerked back upright, shaking the snow off his back. He couldn’t risk any breaks or to slow down, ‘less he wants to become a Docsicle.

That was in fact, a terrible joke for a terrible moment and even he was aware of it. But the small chuckle meant his lungs were still getting are and he hadn’t gone fully numb yet.

He pulled himself up to the edge of the hill, looking around with shielded eyes. Everything was barren and the only thing even at the peak was a crown of rocky walls encircling a large and flat field of snow. You’d think that this would mean finding Grian would be easy, but with the terrible fog and sharp waves of snow he could barely even see the shadows of said rock walls.

He skirted around the outside of the field, marking each slope down the peak and fully stopping one side due to a frozen over carcass. How anything got to even spawn up here was a mystery, but considering his friend was supposedly in the area it wasn’t unlikely. Still, a llama this far up? It would take an extremely dumb creature to search for food up here. From the corner of his eye, he notices a bit of a shine under the mix of frost and white fur. Slowly, he brushed them back, color fading from his face at the sight.

Well, at least he knew it was a trader llama. What he didn’t really expect were the jagged claw marks buried into the spinal area of the poor thing. Whatever it was, it hadn’t finished the kill properly, as the carcass was still fresh despite the ice and the creature itself only had a bitemark by the base of its neck.

Wait.

Oh no.

He ran toward the center of the field, abandoning the llama. He could faintly see a blood trail leading to a shadowy silhouette, bunched up and moving slightly. Despite how cold his face was, he could smell the fresh scent of a kill in that direction. As he neared, he could recognize a dull but still bright red sweater, tattered in the back. Carefully, he slowed down and approached the person he’d been searching for, his words caught in his throat. He almost doubted himself as he spoke, watching the figure turn to him and hiss at him.

Grian’s body twitched as he positioned himself between Doc and the dead trader, crushing their ribs in the process. It was very clear that he couldn’t actually see Doc with the eyes on his face, but instead had to move his wings at angles to see. The purple eyes sharpened as they locked on the newcomer, making Grian peel off from the kill he’d been feeding on.

Doc didn’t hesitate to run as Grian launched himself at where he’d been standing, a spray of spit and blood splashing the ground around him. He didn’t need to glance back to tell he was being pursued, the loud snarling and crushing of snow behind him was a pretty good sign.

Although it was a bad thought, Doc was kind of glad Grian didn’t spawn somewhere like the end or had an elytra. If his wings had the extra power, he was sure that he’d have already been caught and torn to shreads.

He reached the side of the peak and slipped, sliding down a few yards before rolling out of the way as Grian again threw himself at the spot Doc was last at. When missing his mark, the hermit let out a roar that threatened to send the snow crashing down. The action gave Doc an idea.

One that he might regret later.

“Hey! Over here!”

Grian turned his head sharply to the noise, baring his teeth. He blindly rushed after the target, getting narrowly close to digging his claws into the mad man’s leg as a result for his taunting.

Okay. Maybe don’t do that.

Doc kept his quick pace down the mountain, his adrenaline being the main thing stopping him from falling over and succumbing to the snow. He had to make it to the bottom, or at least to the half way point. On his way up, he’d passed a ravine. If he could make it there, he could maybe live to see another day and risk coming back for Grian when more prepared.

He kept zig zagging through his old footsteps, reaching the drop faster than expected. Quickly, he pulled out a rope and tied it around one of his arms. It was definitely going to hurt, but that would be a problem for future him. He took a few shaky steps back, glanced at Grian rapidly approaching, then sprinted over the ledge, throwing the rope out at a few rocks on the other side.

He screamed in pain as the rope secured in place, his arm dislocating in the process but otherwise he was safe. He spun around as he heard Grian screech, the creature lunging out at him. He succeeded in hooking his claws into his leg, burning the flesh with the terrible coldness from said claws. Doc almost lost his hold on the rope but managed to kick Grian off before he could be taken down with him.

He winced as Grian screamed, landing at the bottom with a loud thud. He was concerned until he saw the other slowly get back up, seemingly unharmed despite the visible broken twist in one of his wings. The two made eye contact for a while before Doc muttered an apology.

Then he screamed as loud as he could.

He forced himself out of the ravine as fast as he could, watching the vibrations of his echo stir the already loose snow from the hill. Almost beautifully, all of it came crashing down in an avalanche, rolling into the ravine and slowly filling it. He didn’t stay to watch it finish, limping quickly back down the mountain. He had to get to Ren. He’d probably get a yelling about the chat, but they could return later.

As soon as he was gone and the avalanche had settled, a bit of snow shifted. A bloodied hand tore out of the top, followed by the rest of the hermit. Grian wheezed and hissed quietly as he adjusted to the different pressure of this lower elevation. Shifting his still working wing, he surveyed the area to look for his quarry.

There. A lone greenish figure moving down the snow. He could also spot a faint trail of smoke dancing up from behind a hill.

The green one can wait.

He was curious about the smoke, and he wondered what, or who, was the cause of it.

Besides.... they might be a better meal to feast on before he finished off the green one.

#scattered au #hermitcraftheadcanons #kaine writes nonsense #kaine’s art #grian #docm77

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deascheck · 4 years ago

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A Much Needed Chat

Summary: A/U. The reader is having high anxiety because of an evaluation you’re going to have, and your boyfriend, Lawyer!Sam, takes a break from his work to listen to you and calm you down.

Word Count: 2055

Trigger Warnings: anxiety/panic disorder, medication dependence?, language

A/N: I suffer from depression and anxiety and wanted to write a piece where Sam helps ground the reader (ME!) during a trying time. Please be nice! Feedback and reblogs are amazing! Thank you to the amazing @winchest09 for beta'ing for me!!

Your chest was tight, your breaths shallow and fast. You couldn’t stop thinking about the evaluation. Why the fuck did you have to have a psych evaluation given by the employer you were suing? Truthfully, you knew why. You were pursuing psychological damages from not one, but two workplace accidents. It didn’t make it any easier on you though. In your eyes, this psychologist you were meant to see had been hired by your employer to discredit everything you were going to say.

The more you thought about it, the more your breathing hastened. You wish you hadn’t left your Xanax at Sam’s house. You would give anything to take a few pills right now.

Nothing you were going to be saying to the psychologist was a lie, but her job was to make you sound like you weren’t mentally ill as a result of the accidents- when in fact you really were. Your depression and anxiety had made you a trembling, tearful mess.

You decided to go to Sam’s. Your boyfriend, Sam Winchester, was a lawyer, and currently worked from home. Not only was he a lawyer, but he was your lawyer. That’s how you two had met. He specialized in worker’s compensation cases, and was highly reputable in his field.

On the drive over, you attempted to focus on your breathing, but it was getting harder and harder with each second that passed. Your panic was rising and you felt lightheaded, like you were going to pass out. The pain in your chest grew, making you wonder if you were dying. Your vision started to change and you knew it was time to call for support. Struggling to hold the wheel and get your phone out, you fumbled around until you got to Sam’s number. You pressed the call button and briefly closed your eyes, praying that he answered.

“Hey beautiful, what’s up?” Sam’s calming voice sounded through the phone.

“I can’t breathe,” you puffed. “I need you. I need my Xanax. I think I’m dying... Help.”

Immediately, Sam started soothing you and coaching you. “Ok, I want you to start with five things that you can see. You sound like you’re in the car. Are you in the car? Look for five things on the road- what color cars do you see? What makes and models are they?”

You flicked your eyes around, panicked. “Ummm I see a green car in front of me. It’s a …. Hyundai Elantra. Uh, the car next to me is bright pink… it’s an ugly ass smart car.”

You could hear the smile in Sam’s voice at your judgment of the car as he encouraged you to continue, “Good job, baby. Keep doing that. I’ll wait on the line until you come up with three more.”

A minute or so later, you spoke up, breathless, “I got them. It’s not helping.” Your heart was still going a mile a minute.

“Ok, what are four things you can hear?”

You sighed in an attempt to slow your breathing. “I can hear my own breathing, does that count? I can hear Daisy’s engine.” You paused to continue listening. “I hear a motorcycle coming up behind me. And I hear the wind coming through the cracked windows.” Your heart rate slowed down some, to your great relief.

“Well done, Y/N. That was one of your best identifying sets yet. How are you doing now?” Sam’s voice over the phone alone was helping you calm down, your vision and eye movement returning to normal.

“You’re helping more than the exercise, honestly,” you stated.

Sam chuckled. “Well, whatever works for you, honey. You are on your way over here, I’m guessing?”

“You guessed it,” you chuckled weakly.

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

Ten minutes later, you pulled into Sam’s driveway. He had a modest two story, 3 bedroom house that you couldn’t get enough of. It was a brick house with the front door tucked into a small front porch with two pillars. The love of your life was standing on the porch waiting for you. You loved when he worked from home, because he could dress comfortably. He was in gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and a black vneck tshirt that gave you ample view of his chiseled chest. The worry on his face made you smile through the remaining anxiety. You would have been turned on if you weren’t still feeling like your anxiety wasn’t under control.

Quickly, you got out of the car and hurried into his waiting arms. You buried your face into his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Sam’s strong arms held you tight, one arm around your shoulders and the other around your lower back. You were body to body, the warmth from his tall frame helping your muscles to relax.

Quietly, he loosened his grip and adjusted so that one arm was draped around your shoulders as he pressed you into his side to walk inside. The aroma that met your nose was your second favorite in the world- besides Sam’s. It was a mahogany/tobacco mix, which you hadn’t expected to smell as good as it did when you first were told about it. The familiar scent had you breathing deeply through your nose as you walked in with Sam.

You left his side and went straight to the bathroom, where your Xanax was. You dumped two in your hand, and after a thought, a third. You swallowed, sighing in relief. It occurred to you after you’d taken them that your anxiety had come down significantly, and that maybe you didn’t need them, especially three of them, but you didn’t care. The mere thought that you had taken them calmed you down.

When you exited the bathroom, you found Sam sitting on the loveseat in the living room. You immediately sat on his lap and pulled your legs to your chest and curled into his body. His strong arms wrapped around you protectively, and you felt his voice vibrate deep in his chest as he asked, “Did you just take your Xanax? Did you still need it?”

You felt slightly guilty as you answered, “Yeah, I took three. That’s one of the two reasons I came over here.” You smiled softly up at him. “You’re the other reason.”

His chin rested on the top of your head as he sighed. He knew you were a little too dependent on the medication, and the fact that you took three worried him. But he decided not to press the matter given the state you’d been in while you were in the car.

“Tell me about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” he murmured into your hair.

“It’s this stupid evaluation,” you sighed. “I can’t get it out of my head. It’s in less than two days, as you know, and my anxiety is going crazy. My employer fucking hired this doctor! She’s going to rip apart everything I say and twist it the way she wants it. I’m not good enough on my feet to phrase things carefully enough that she won’t be able to do that.”

Your breathing started picking up again. Your Xanax hadn’t kicked in yet. Sam felt your chest start to heave, and tightened his grip around you. “Breathe with me. Feel my breaths and breathe with me.”

Closing your eyes, you felt for his breathing rhythm. The slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. The comforting movement once again helped you get your breathing back under control. You took a breath with him and let it out at the same pace he did. Your heart slowed down to a resting rate.

“Ok, I think I can keep talking this through without you having to calm me down every two seconds. I guess I’m just worried overall that I will feel invalidated. Like what I’m feeling isn’t real or true,” you admitted. “That it’s all made up in my head. This evaluation I have to go to, in essentially a day, is my employer’s way of attempting to prove that I am NOT as sick as I have become. I didn’t even take a single medication before all this shit happened! I didn’t need to see a therapist! I’m not fucking making it up.” You tilted your head up briefly to look at Sam and his sympathetic smile warmed your heart.

“Sweetheart, I know. But think about it, our job is to prove the severe decline of your mental health. Their job is to prove there was no decline- that it was bad already. If our psychologist says that you have a permanent partial disability of 75%, your employer is most definitely going to hire a psychologist of their own to attempt to disprove that. Seventy-five percent is a large disability! They don’t want to have to pay out for that.”

You sighed. Logically, you knew that. But nothing, you felt, nothing, could really prepare you for the evaluation. It could potentially go on for five hours! It made you think, What the hell? Who spends five hours getting interrogated and tested by a psychologist whose main goal is to discredit me. You groaned.

“I wish I could say I just want it to be over. But I’m as nervous for her report as I am for the evaluation! My coworker, Jay, and I read about one of her previous cases online. Man, she did not help the lady out at all with her report. She essentially said there was no illness whatsoever. What if she does that to me? I’ve got the diagnosis to back it up! And my psychiatrist even wrote a note saying that my depression and anxiety were indeed exacerbated by these accidents. And my psychologist I saw for our side of the case said I have PTSD and ADD. That’s got to count for something to the judge, right?”

Sam nodded against your head. “All of these reports will go to the judge. All the medical records, all the reports, everything, goes to the judge for review. The reports may influence him, but ultimately it’s he who makes the decision on what the settlement will be. Try not to worry too much about her report. Because we already have a very favorable one from our side.”

You could feel your Xanax kicking in. A calm wave washed over you and you felt your body relax into Sam’s for the first time since you had been curled together. You rested your head against his chest and breathed deeply, once again taking in his scent. This stupid evaluation was inevitable. You knew that. You had written in a journal different things you wanted to share with the psychologist, as well as a letter. Nothing you were going to be saying was a lie. She would not be able to catch you with irregularities.

“I guess the best thing I can do is just be honest, ya know?” You ducked your head softly to dislodge Sam’s chin from your crown and looked up at him. “The truth always comes out, right? If only truth always won…” you trailed off, getting lost in your thoughts.

Sam chuckled, the laugh resounding deep in his chest. “Y/N, you have me. And you know I am doing my damndest to make sure we have everything we need to succeed. You’re going to get a settlement, because you have your breathing and wrist problems that have already been identified as caused by the accidents. You know that for sure. Now we’re proving psychological disability to add hopefully a zero or two to that number. Have faith, baby,” he finished, resting his forehead on top of your head. “We will get through this together.”

You sighed contentedly. You would absolutely get through it together. When you were with Sam, nothing could stand in your way. Not even a goddamn psychological evaluation. He gave you strength and his faith in you spurred you on. Sam helped you feel invincible. Fuck this evaluation, you thought. I’m going to do my best, be as honest as I can, and then I’m going to come home to Sam’s embrace and everything else will just melt away.

With that, you snuggled in closer, and closed your eyes, humming softly and happily to yourself.

#supernatural writing #supernatural fandom #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #readerinsert #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #deascheck

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thenightgazer · 4 years ago

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A Long Way Home

While still trapped in the Underworld, Dante and Vergil have to resolve their family issue. One that can't be solved only by swords and guns.

It's been two years since Red Grave incident, one week after Christmas, and still no news about Dante and Vergil. That leaves Nero terribly upset, but little did he know that miracle will come to him very soon.

Merry Christmas @nibbbs! Surprise surprise, I’m your secret santa from @dmcsecretsanta! Hopefully you enjoy the gift I wrote for you! Happy reading and happy holiday!

You can also read it on my AO3!

~~~

The Underworld has never been this quiet before.

That forsaken place is the real no man’s land; always boisterous with fights between demons to take over the throne of the Underworld. Be it a slaughter between lower demons or higher demons, they couldn’t care less. Their primal instinct is just craving more power and of course, human flesh. But since the portal to cross into the human world isn’t always unfolded, cannibalism is ineluctable. It’s either eat or be eaten. It’s bound to happen and demons don’t have any choices but to yield to the Underworld’s natural law. Surviving and escaping the Underworld seems like an absurd fantasy for humans, even for demons as well.

Which is why voluntarily jumping into the depth of the Underworld to save the world is considered to be a valiant and honorable act, yet also frivolously lunatic.

Well, for Dante, lunatic sounds like his middle name, if he ever had one.

He chuckles by the thought of that.

“What are you laughing at?” Dante’s problematic twin brother Vergil snarls.

“Nothing,” Dante closes his eyes. “Just having a weird thought.”

Vergil replies nothing. He shows no interest in Dante's daydream, but that’s just probably because he’s too tired to even think of a reply. The twins couldn’t count how many days have passed since they cut the Qliphoth tree down. They spared and killed any demons nearby, exploring other regions of the Underworld simply because they are bored and need some time to rebound their lost time as brothers. Now, exhaustion forces them to take some rest. They lean side by side on the scorched desert, staring at the perpetual black sky while restoring their energy.

Dante can sense a demon’s presence not too far from where he is right now, but that presence fades eventually. “You feel that too, Verge?”

“I do,” Vergil murmurs. “The words have been spoken, I presume. That they better not to disturb us if they still want to live.”

“Well, once we recover, they’re going to die anyway.”

Vergil’s short hum speaks of his concurrence.

Dante shifts his hands under his head as he glances to his brother. Vergil stiffly lies on the ground with Yamato on his chest while his hands gripping on it. He might close his eyes but Dante knows his brother can still attack his opponent while closing his eyes. As hard as a steel, this old bastard, Dante amuses at his idea. “Rest means relaxing, bro. You don’t have to be on guard all the time.”

“I’m preparing for any attack.”

“It’s not like there is a demon near us at this moment.”

“Have some self-consciousness, Dante. You could attack me at any time, given a chance.”

Dante wakes up straight away. “Why would I wanna attack you?!”

“There’s always a possibility.”

“Says the guy who always has the intention to kill me, huh,” Dante lies back again. “Seriously, Verge. Just for five minutes, stop thinking and go to sleep. Bet it’s been a while since you have a proper sleep, right?”

Neither show any agreement or disagreement, Vergil turns his head to Dante. “Why are you still awake then?”

“Huh? To keep an eye on you, of course. Who knows you’d do some weird shit outta there again.”

Vergil curves a smirk, then turns his eyes to the dark sky again. “I see. You are also scared of me attacking you while you’re asleep, aren’t you? We’re twins, after all.”

“I don’t-” Dante almost bite his mouth.. “Man, you’re as sharp and annoying as you always have been.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah right.”

And there’s silence again. It’s been days, or weeks, since the last time Dante hears any demonic voices around him. To be honest, he kind of expects their appearance. He likes talking to Vergil, but the older brother has an issue in healthy communication. Hell, Vergil is a difficult person and Dante wonders if the eldest children around the world are always like this. But Dante realizes he is also no expert in social interaction, and fighting is also the only thing they both are good at. Vergil would talk a little bit much when fighting, even if it’s mostly taunting and mocking Dante, yet it’s better than having Vergil succumb to the dark side again.

“By the way,” Dante breaks the ice. “Are you ready now to tell me who’s the lucky girl a.k.a Nero’s mom?”

Vergil draws the Yamato above Dante’s throat. “One more word, and I’ll cut you into pieces.”

“C’moooon! I’m curious!”

The Yamato is now touching Dante’s skin. “Final warning, Dante.”

Dante flicks the Yamato’s blade. “Fine. Whenever you’re ready, bro. You might not want to tell me, but you owe that to Nero. He’s your son. He deserves to know.”

Vergil sheathes Yamato, scoffing at Dante’s warning. “It’s not like I’m going back to the human world.”

“Well, we HAVE to!”

“Pray tell why I should agree with you.”

“I have a shop to run and there’s a new menu at my favorite pizza parlor. You should try it, by the way. And you got a lot to explain to Nero. You don’t wanna be a deadbeat like Father, right? Though you kinda already are all this time.”

“You know it better than anyone else that I didn’t know Nero’s existence until you told me so.”

“Which is more reason why you have to come back to the human world soon. You can say you don’t need to catch up with Nero but I know you want it. You left him your frigging book; the same one you didn’t allow me to borrow. Dear ol’ Vergil got some soft spots for his son, huh?”

Vergil turns his back from Dante like a sulking child, ignoring his younger twin’s laughter. As expected from a cold man like him, he won’t ever admit that every single of Dante’s words is true. Again, a long and neglected fear consumes him. What’s fatherhood for a man who ran out of place and time like him anyway? Is there any chance for him to fix his family? Getting back in terms with Dante is one thing, but with Nero, the son he had never met before his escapement from the Underworld? Does he even have a right to call him his son after all he had done to him?

After quite long of silence and battle with himself, Vergil murmurs a question to Dante. “How old is he?”

Dante almost squealed if only he didn’t remember not to ruin Vergil’s mood or else they won’t have any friendly conversation anymore. “Nero? Twenty-something, I guess. Haven’t asked him myself.”

“How did you meet each other?”

“Long short story, some weird-ass cult that worshipped our father as a god turned out evil and wanted to use our father’s power to rule the world-”

“The Order of the Sword?”

“Right! You did your research! Nero was one of them but rebelled after they kidnapped his girlfriend and killed her brother. I came to Fortuna to retrieve the Sparda sword and apparently your kid was able to summon the Yamato and I got the picture already. He got white hair, he summoned Yamato, tried to kill me repeatedly, stab me with Rebellion and Yamato, craving for more power to save his beloved. I wondered where he got that from, by the way~”

A hint of smirk curves in Vergil’s mouth.

“Then we worked together to save Fortuna from a pope who was obsessed with our Father and destroyed the island. We succeeded and brought peace. Nero got his girlfriend back, and we established the branch of Devil May Cry in Fortuna. The end.”

“A heartwarming, and very unoriginal story.”

“You think I made up that story?”

“Didn’t say that. I am merely implying that I heard stories similar to your experience.”

“Hell knows you are the coldest person alive, but you are a terrible liar. You are a man of pride, after all. Lying doesn’t suit you.”

“I can tell thousands of lies as I please, if only that’s necessary,” Vergil takes a brief look at Dante’s mischievous face. “But I won’t, if it’s concerning my son.”

Is this really the Vergil I used to know? Dante can’t hold his grin while elbowing his brother. “Starting to feel like a real dad, huh?”

“Silence.”

“Admitting that you love your son won’t do any harm, Verge.”

“I-” Vergil stumbles upon his own words. He growls impatiently, hurrying himself to get up and sit down as he wipes his face frustratedly. “We’re not having this conversation anymore.”

“Why? Just because you can’t admit that you grew care for your son?”

“Because I’m a terrible person!”

That was the most honest words that came from Vergil, if anything, ever. When was the last time he showed his vulnerable side like this? Even as V, crumbling and dying slowly, he didn’t even spare Dante any sign of defeat and regret. Dante gets up, clapping Vergil’s shoulder. “Only if you still want to destroy the world and kill your own family, then maybe I’d call you the worst shit in the world too.”

Vergil shakes his head. “If only…”

“Huh?”

“Had I known I have a son back then…” Vergil says bitterly. “I would never leave him. I would never go pursuing power or raising that foolish tower and this ridiculous tree…” he points to the remains of Qliphoth tree with his sword. “I would have a better chance to be… a good father for him…”

Regret always comes late, isn’t it? The ‘if onlys’ never come at the front of the mind, merely whispering behind the head but never appearing into the surface before regret comes. Vergil knows that, but never really understands it until Dante tells him that Nero- the very man whose arm was ripped by him and still willing to help him in every way- is his own flesh and blood. His priority was to seal the gate of the Underworld and cut the Qliphoth tree, so that Nero and the rest of the human world are safe and sound. He will stay in the Underworld to redeem himself, for he thinks he has no place in the human world for all he has done. He planned to create a portal to the human world after he fixed things up with Dante to kick him out from the Hell with force, because he knows Dante won’t leave him alone again and will do anything to drag Vergil out from the Underworld. The plan is simple. It should have been easy to execute.

Yet ever since Vergil landed at this hellhole, his steps are getting heavier as time goes on. A haunting voice inside his head kept telling him to come back to Nero as soon as he finished his job cutting Qliphoth roots. Another sound tells him he should stay longer here with Dante to catch up with their sibling bound. The third sound, more demanding and urging, tells him to stay in the Underworld forever as a redemption.

“Y’know, bro,” Dante folds his legs as he seizes the Yamato from Vergil’s hand and puts it on the ground, which dismays Vergil. “Gotta admit that I wanted to kill you because I wanted to free you from evil, and get rid of Nero’s burden of having you as his father. Though he proved to us that we are just a bunch of nonsensical idiots who got unsolved sibling problems between us-”

“I am not an idiot!”

“You might have scored higher on the Math test than me but you’re still an idiot!” Dante barks. “Anyway that’s not my point! What I mean to say is, as much as I hate your dumb-as-rock head, you’re still my brother. And it’s never too late to fix things up.”

Vergil scoffs and takes his sword back to his embrace again. “How can you be so sure?”

“I blamed you, y’know, for that day” Dante admits, his eyes getting darker and the carefree vibe in his voice is gradually gone. “For not rescuing me and Mother.”

Vergil streaked at that confession. “What do you mean?”

“You thought Mother only saved me and left you behind while she died searching for you,” Dante woefully chuckles. “But for me, on that day, I thought you would come to rescue us.”

“I was planning to-”

“She could have hid with me in the closet until you come to save us. That’s what I thought back then when she died, and you never came back. I thought you left us, before I heard one of them say they had you killed. There I was; frightened and thinking that I was alone. My mother and brother died. No one could save me but myself. I was blaming you for running away that day. If you didn’t, we could have defeated them all and protected our home.”

“Or, we could have died. All of us.”

“Exactly. Instead of blaming you, I blamed myself for picking a fight with you. Should’ve left you and your book alone,” Dante stands up, spinning the Ivory before shooting a flying demon that approaches them. “I lived by loathing myself, until I met you again in that cursed church, remember? I was genuinely happy to see you.”

“I remember,” Vergil nods slowly, recalling a blurry picture of their younger selves. “You said you are a devil hunter and will be filthy rich someday.”

“Still waiting for that day, actually. Yet you fucker started being a dick, saying shits about power and stuff,” Dante’s harsh voice trembles slightly. “I thought we could start over as a family, but you decided to fucking stay in the Underworld. I couldn’t save you at the gate of the Underworld. I couldn’t save you at Mallet Island. I could save everyone else, but not my own family.”

Vergil raises up. His arm is reaching Dante’s shoulder, but it never touches him. His hesitation is rational, for he knows words can’t describe how Dante must have felt towards Vergil. Hatred might be the wrong word; it sounds too soft. Too lenient, too merciful.

One could tell it’s disappointment, Vergil gets his answer as Dante turns over to face him. The mischievous little brother side of Dante has gone as he aims his gun at Vergil. It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend. Let alone a family.

Dante wails horridly. “Always the quiet one, ain’t cha? Remember how our parents always told me to be quiet like you? ‘Why can’t you just behave like Vergil?’ Guess what? At least I’m not the one who fucked the world up and ripped off my son’s arm-”

“Dante-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dante’s grip on Ivory is slightly trembling as he snaps. “I’ve been through shits too, Vergil. I missed Father and Mother. I missed you, for fuck sake! After all this time I believed I killed you in Mallet Island, then you came out of nowhere to destroy the world. I came out with the conclusion that you didn’t even change a bit, just an egomaniacal who thinks the world only revolves around him. I needed to kill you again because I don’t want my nephew to kill his own father. Don’t you fucking realize how maddening was that?!”

A bullet passes through Vergil’s head. The older hybrid stands still without any intention to return the attack, only wiping the blood from his forehead. I don’t have the right to be irritated, he reminds himself while his mouth forms a bitter grimace as Dante puts the gun on Vergil’s forehead, ready to pull the trigger anytime soon. For a second Vergil can sense Dante is going to lose his temper as he catches a glimpse of red flash in Dante’s eyes. Ever since they were kids, Vergil was always aware that Dante in his total wrath is dangerous. A ticking bomb , Vergil recalls what their father said about Dante’s anger as he watches the raging fire in Dante’s eyes ignite until it’s slowly fading.

“But I changed my mind again,” Dante continues. “Instead of blaming you and carrying on the bad blood, I choose to start over. And that’s how I can be sure,” he pokes Vergil’s head with the gun before putting it back into his coat. “That everyone deserves a second chance and it’s never too late to fix what you have done.”

The red devil yawns as he slams himself on the ground again, stretching his hands before he closes his eyes. “Sorry for raising my voice. It’s just impossible to use soft words whenever I’m talking to a stubborn jackass like you.”

He opens one of his eyes to see what Vergil would react. His older brother sighs heavily, sitting beside Dante’s lying body and puts his katana on the ground. For a man with a soul of a true warrior like Vergil, putting weapons down on the ground is a sign of defeat. Which is the reason why he was slightly aggravated when Dante seized the Yamato and put it on the ground as if he told Vergil to surrender. It should be a humiliating act, but for once Vergil throws his pride away.

Because you are right, Dante.

“Dante,” he calls his brother. This time there’s no hostility in his voice, only sincerity and repentance. “I am ever so sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Dante smirks playfully. “Why do you think I’m here if I still hold a grudge against you?”

“I mean it,” Vergil emphasizes. “Truthfully. For everything I have done… and my sincere gratitude for taking good care of my son while I wasn’t there for him.”

“Honestly, Verge. Forget it. I only do what I have to do.”

Watching his little brother finally howls in laughter, a surge of warmth fills Vergil’s veins as he joins the laughter. It’s comforting, since they can’t remember the last time they laugh together without any fight and bad blood. I barely remember how it feels like to have a family, Vergil chuckles while Dante kicks Vergil’s knee mischievously. Was it always this… warm?

“Dante.”

“Yup?”

“I think we should go back to the human world now.”

Dante whistles in joy. “Ready to meet your grandkids?”

“Do tell me the truth,” Vergil growls, impetuously tugs Dante’s collar. “Are you serious about grandchildren or you just make it up?”

“For fuck sake, Verge! Didn’t you know that already when you ripped your son’s arm?”

“I didn’t pay much attention... I can only recall a voice of woman called Nero for dinner- not the voice of that mouthful friend of Nero-”

“Yeah that was Kyrie. Your soon-to-be daughter in law. Anyway they adopted kids called Carlo, Kyle, and Julio,” Dante pats Vergil’s shoulder with pride and teasing manner. “Congratulations, you’re officially a grandpa! What a fine day for revelation!”

As if my life could get any worse, Vergil grinds his teeth in frustration as he releases Dante from his grip. “How unfortunate.”

“C’mon, swing that flimsy sword of yours and make a portal to the human world. We got plenty of things to do! I gotta pay those bills, refurbish my shop, return Kalina Ann to Lady, and buy a birthday present for Patty.”

“Rather a cumbersome list you got there, Dante.”

“What can I say? I’m a busy man! Now get your ass up, old man! Nero’s waiting!”

---

It’s already two fucking years.

Nero was never a believer. There’s no such thing as a miracle, he told himself. Protecting Kyrie and the kids is an endless responsibility that bestowed upon him. There’s nothing he won’t do for their happiness and safety, even if it means to cost his own well-being. He relies on nobody but himself. He doesn’t pray. He never tries to exceed any expectation, because hope is a dangerous and fragile thing. Hope bothers him, and he hates to be bothered.

Yet, lately, he almost surrendered by the temptation to hold some hope.

What hope? Nero rejects his own thought. For those douchebags to return safely? Gimme a break.

Sitting in his garage and polishing the Red Queen, Nero takes a brief look at the snowy ground outside of the house where the children are building a snowman. He grins at Kyle who waves at him; the youngest from the three children he adopted, who’s now taller and braver than he used to be when he found the little boy searching for some scraps at Fortuna’s slum. Nero chuckles when a glimpse of a picture of Vergil meeting Kyrie and the boys pops out from his head. Would they be pleased to meet him? Would Vergil be pleased to meet them? Would he himself be pleased to meet Vergil again? There’s no fucking way for them to coming back, Nero slaps himself. They either die or shit themselves in the Underworld. Probably fucking fighting again like toddlers.

Still, the thought of his father and uncle somehow return and meeting his little family is overwhelming. Nero can’t even hide his smile anymore. He throws away the rug he uses to wipe the blade and hangs the Red Queen on the wall.

Come to think of it, that fucker ripped off my arm in this garage too.

He lays a hard punch on the wall.

“Keep punchin’ the wall, and ya would destroy the house.”

Nero glances at his friend and partner in crime, Nico, who rests her back on the van and lights her cigarette. He still finds it strange to witness Nico in her winter outfit, a contrast to her usual tanktop and shorts she used to wear before winter comes. "How many times have I told you to smoke outside the house?”

“Ya blind or what? It’s cold outside!”

“Darn it, Nico! Then don’t smoke!”

“Too late~” Nico barks a laugh while blowing a smoke. “Anyway, why did you punch the wall like a madman?”

Nero shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just feeling like punching something.”

“Cut the bullshit. Ya missed yer old man, ain’t cha?”

“Buzz off, Nico.”

“Aaaaw, don’t be so meanie~”

“Seriously, Nico. Go bugger off someone else. I’m not in the mood for having a chit-chat.”

“Everyone’s worried, ya know,” Nico exhales exaggeratedly, pointing at the children outside. “Those lil’ brats asked me if somethin’ pissed ya off because ya look like ya wanted to punch someone in the face since the Christmas party last week.”

“I indeed want to punch a certain person,” Nero lets out a cackle. “But he’s not available at the moment.”

“Y’know, I’m not an expert of daddy and son shits, and yer dad is obviously not an ideal father, but it’s totally okay for ya to miss him. The jackass did save the world, at least.”

“Thanks, Nico. That’s so motivational. I’m deeply touched- ouch !” Nero swears when a sturdy plug lands on his head. “What the fuck Nico?!”

“Talk to Kyrie,” Nico lowers her voice. Her brash mouth always sounds kinder and empathetic when she talks about Kyrie. “Ya locked yerself in this garage the whole day! You’re making her worried, ya know?”

“I think you should double your eyeglasses. I didn’t lock myself. See that door? It’s unhinged, because I need to make sure the kids are alright.”

“Yeaaah whatever. Go talk to her, pretty boy. I’ll watch over the brats.”

“Fine…” Nero scratches his nape as he walks away from the garage. “Don’t let the kids go anywhere near my weapons!”

“Gotcha~!”

Nero never meant to worry anyone, of course. He lives a happy life; he married the love of his life, adopted a bunch of orphans whom he loved and took care of equally, and ran a business with his best friend whom he considered a big sister. The world is currently safe from danger. So what's to worry about?

His confusion disappears when he sees Kyrie’s figure covered in a thick blanket at the terrace. She smiles happily as the snow continues to fall and catches a drop on her palm. Nero feels like he could melt anytime he sees Kyrie’s soothing smile. He takes his time to watch her catching snow as he leans against the door, ignoring the cold breeze that sneaks inside his body. It doesn’t take a long time for Kyrie to be aware of Nero’s presence as she asks him to join her at the terrace.

“You should put your coat on, Nero. It’s cold here.” Kyrie speaks her concern while she wraps him with her blanket.

“Chill out. I’m fine,” Nero gives her a light peck on the forehead. His right hand envelopes Kyrie’s waist to give her a sense of comfort. “The kids are building snowmans back there. Been hours and who knows when they will stop.”

Kyrie giggles. “The more they grow up the more energetic they become! At least we don’t need to worry about how to get them to sleep on time. I believe they’ll get exhausted after play and filling their stomachs with delicious dinner would quicken their way to sleep!”

“You’re right.”

Kyrie looks up at her lover’s tensed face. She brushes the tip of Nero’s nose slightly to make him smile. That little maneuver always succeeded to cheer him up. Kyrie rests her head on Nero’s chest. “Are you not happy with the Christmas party last week? I know you hated surprises but-”

“No- I liked it! Really! You know we rarely celebrate things lately and last week was one of the best days in my life! How could I hate that?” Nero tightens his grip on Kyrie’s waist, gazing at Kyrie’s eyes deeply. “I’m happy, Kyrie. I’m happy here with our little family.”

“Then it must have something to do with your father and uncle, is it?”

“That obvious, huh?” Nero smirks bitterly. “I just… I don’t know. You know how Dante is. To think that he’s actually my uncle is… weird. Then I found out the man who screwed up Red Grave was his brother. My father. Vergil, he left me when I was a child… as V, he manipulated me to do his agenda. He reemerged and left me again. And Dante didn't even bother to tell me the fact before Vergil was back. That made me feel… kinda betrayed. It still doesn’t make any sense to me. I got a pair of dysfunctional family members and I don’t know what I should do if they come back. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

The only parental figure Nero ever had was just Kyrie and Credo’s parents, and they didn’t even live that long to give little Nero more love and parental advice. Kyrie truly understands Nero’s struggle to accept his heritage and keep holding on his humanity. “Nero… do you forgive your father?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean to bring it up again, but after all the ill he caused to you, do you forgive him?”

The memory of him and Vergil on the top of the Qliphoth tree rises again. He succeeded in bringing some sense back to his father and the old man entrusted him his precious book- the one which Nero kept safely on the shelf- before jumping to Hell and finishing what he started. Vergil didn’t say much, but his promise… his damn promise!

“I won’t lose next time. Hold onto that until then.”

“I forgive him,” Nero admits. “I think… I just miss him. And Dante. I really want us to be a proper family. That's all.”

“Just as I thought,” Kyrie cups Nero’s jaw with her hands. “I’m glad that you’re honest with yourself. There’s nothing wrong with missing them. They might be flawed, but they are your family."

Nero carefully caresses his beloved hands as if he's afraid of hurting her. "I'm sorry I keep putting you to my demon lineage problem…"

"Hey, we talked about this. Demon or human, it's you I want to be with…" she kisses him on the lips. "I love you, Nero."

"I love you too." He returns the kiss deeper.

Nero wraps her around his arms, seeking comfort and warmth from her presence. Kyrie's words succeed in getting his head together. He can feel a degree of burden has left his shoulders as he finds himself finally letting go his worries. Kyrie is right. There's nothing wrong with missing those douchebags. They're my family-

"NERO!"

Nico appears out of nowhere at the terrace, panting and panicking like she ran for her life. Every single nerve inside Nero's body tells him that something wrong is happening, but the sassy smirk on Nico's face while she tries to breathe normally tells another thing. "You're not gonna believe me if I told you this-"

"Are the kids safe?" Kyrie asks anxiously.

"Yeah they're fine. They have company."

What the fuck? "Company? What are you talking about?!"

Nico rolls her eyes as she grabs both of Nero and Kyrie's hands. "Just follow me quickly!"

Nico seems excited… if it wasn't a danger, then what?

The children are giggling and shouting happily at something Nero can't see yet. But as soon as Nico delivers them in the backyard, he spots two familiar figures among the kids. The red-coated man joins them to decorate the snowman as he helps them crafting the pile of snow with stones and branches. He summons a cowboy hat and a shiny red scarf from thin air- which excites the kids- before he puts the hat on the snowman's head and wraps its neck with the scarf as the last touch. The children are applauding and hugging him, saying their gratitude and bombing him with questions on how he could summon stuff only from thin air. The cocky red man barks in laughter and tells them that he learns some magic tricks.

In a contrast to the red man, the blue-coated man stands a bit far from the crowd, facepalming and reluctant to do anything despite the children's curiosity as they glance at him and whisper their surprise on how similar his face is with the red man. Carlo states that the blue man is scary, and quickly hides behind the red man when the blue man hears his mutter and glares at the poor kid.

"C'mon, Verge, stop glaring at the kids! You're scaring them!" The red man chuckles.

Dante?

Vergil?

How-? Since when…?

"You…" Nero breathes heavily, barely trusts his vision. "You guys are alive…"

Dante grins and waves a salute at Nero. "Heya, kid! Miss me? I know we're late, but Merry Christmas!"

Kyrie holds her giggle when she catches Nero's dumbstruck face. She grips his hand and whispers him a word of advice. "Time to let your doubts go, Nero. They are here, at last."

Nero gives a nod, but his mouth isn't capable of forming any words. He reluctantly approaches Vergil, who seems nonchalant about his surroundings, if only Nero failed to catch his father's warm gaze as he stands before Vergil. A minute has passed and none of them say anything. Words cannot describe how they feel towards each other.

But Nero decides to solve the problem in Sparda's family old-fashioned style: punching his father hard right in the face.

There echoes Dante and Nico's laughter as Vergil's body lands violently on the ground, covered with snow.

The older son of Sparda can taste a metallic scent liquid dripping from his lips.

"That hurts," he murmurs and proceeds to get up as he wipes the blood from his mouth. "Two years and still have no manners, I see."

"Fuck you, old man!" Nero spats angrily.

Dante, still laughing at the picture of his brother getting sucker-punched by Nero, sloppily walks to approach them. He pats Nero's shoulder in pride. "You're doing the right thing, Nero. You gave him the right Christmas present-"

The legendary devil hunter gets a very lethal slap from his nephew before he finishes his sentence.

"And that's a present for you, deadweight!" The young devil hunter shouts.

The view of Dante and Vergil getting slammed by Nero only increases Nico's laughter.

"Why did Nero punch Mr. Dante and Mr. Vergil?" Carlo asks Kyrie. "Nero always punches bad people. Are they bad people?"

"Well… no, they are good people! Mr. Vergil is Nero's father and Mr. Dante is Nero's uncle," Kyrie chuckles to hide her worry and struggles to find the correct way to explain the situation. "They haven't met for a very long time. Nero misses them so much that he… doesn't know what to do anymore. But punching people doesn't solve problems, so don't ever do that, okay?"

The kids nod obediently despite not completely understanding the circumstances.

"Can we stop Nero from punching them, Kyrie?" asks Julio, the oldest one from the three. "Family doesn't hurt each other, right?"

"Nah, don't worry. They will stop soon," Nico says as he points at the three hybrids. "Let 'em get the reunion they deserve."

They become calm and smiling at the sight of Nero bringing his father and uncle in a tight embrace together as the young man lets out a cry.

"You both are full of shits and stinky… like a scavenger…" Nero sobs, his teeth grinding hard. "At least take a shower before you show up, dumbass…!"

Dante sneers as he taps Nero’s back. “Yeah, I miss you too.”

The red devil glares at his twin. Say something to your son!

Vergil, unmoved and stiff, doesn’t know how to react from this awkward embrace. He feels uncomfortable, yet finds himself melting between this fuzzy feeling. “Nero…”

“Shut up,” Nero interrupts while breaking his embrace and burying his teary eyes on his palm. “Just fucking shut up.”

“Forgive me,” the blue devil insists to continue. “For leaving you again.”

“Yeah yeah, just shut up...”

Nero jolts by the unexpected weight on his head; Vergil’s hand ruffles his hair as he curves a very subtle smile.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Oh how Nero wanted to punch him again, if only he could bring himself to.

“Uhm…” Kyrie comes to Nero’s rescue as she smiles politely to the twins. “I’m sorry to interrupt this reunion. It’s dinner time and… we would be very happy if the two of you join us for supper.”

“We’d be glad!” Dante accepts cheerfully. “Nero once told me you cook the best meal in Fortuna!”

“Shut up, Dante!” Nero grunts. He remembers he hasn’t told the twins that Kyrie and him are married. He pulls Kyrie closer and holds her hand firmly. “Anyway, Father. This is my wife, Kyrie. Kyrie, this is Vergil. My father.”

Kyrie smiles warmly at Vergil. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Vergil.”

Vergil appreciates Kyrie’s bravery and gives his sincerest nod of approval. There is not a single hint of fright from Kyrie as he recalls how people tend to tremble and stutter in fear whenever they talk to him. He can see why Nero loves her and is very protective towards her. “Thank you for taking good care for my son all this time.”

“Sorry for missing your wedding party, babe. We’ve been busy cleaning up Hell,” Dante grins at Kyrie. “Congratulations. My nephew is lucky to have you as his wife.”

“Can you shut up already?” spats Nero, feeling terribly embarrassed.

“I’m hungry~!” Nico shouts mischievously. “Let’s continue inside! It’s damn freezin’ out here!”

Kyrie gives the twins a final nod as she invites them to come inside the house. She runs to the kitchen with Nico while Nero gathers the kids to enter the house. Dante chuckles like a cocky cool uncle when Julio asks him to do another magic trick, and the little chuckle turns into a bigger laughter when he sees Vergil’s hand tucked in Kyle’s hand as the youngest child calls him Grandpa Vergil.

“Grandpa’s hand is cold!” Kyle says, unaware of Vergil’s death glare. “Once you eat Kyrie’s food, you’ll be warm in no time!”

“Let go of my hand, little rascal.” Vergil scoffs, uncomfortable by the strange kindness from the little child.

Kyle laughs and keeps guiding him to the kitchen. The food is prepared and everyone is about to get their seats. Carlo drags a chair beside Dante’s seat and shyly asks Vergil to sit there, which Vergil accepts.

“Starting to feel like coming back home?” Dante asks his brother.

“This is not bad.”

“I’ve contacted Lady and Trish. They will be here soon,” Nico says as she puts the cigarette on the ashtray. “Lady said something about returning her Kalina Ann. Trish gave her regards, and said that ya need to pay the rent as soon as possible.”

“Damn… those devilish ladies…” Dante buries his face on the table.

“Your office looks like shit without you.” Nero sneers at Dante.

Further family resolvement can wait. Now let them enjoy their first family dinner for the first time. Christmas might have passed a week ago, but Nero thinks his most valuable present had just arrived today. He still wants to beat the shit out of his father and uncle for some unknown reasons, but it can wait for later. His eyes meet Vergil’s, and his father forms a warm smile to him. He never says much, Nero knows that, but he can give him time to adjust in the human world.

Amidst the chants and chatter in the house, unbeknownst to each other, the three descendants of Sparda secretly hope that this rare moment can last forever.

#dmcsecretsanta #dmc #devil may cry #dante #vergil #nero #kyrie #nico #nero x kyrie #night writes #nibbbs

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