#that last this is also why i have to check over the chapters and fix them later

[rendoa-blog]

IM SUCH A GREAT AND COMPOSED AND ORGANIZED HUMAN BEING....

(context : that ao3 askblog fic? I uh... somehow missed an entire arc. And so I had to move... 3 chapters....... and I didn't notice it, Icarus did.... I FORMATTED IT AND EVERYTHING BUT... IT JUST... WASN'T THERE??? Because of this, I'm also gonna have to make the chapter summary for it and get all the chapter names and everything else correct and check it all to see if there wasn't any mistakes or anything and I'm...)

Me rn (no I don't know why it's like that but I laugh at it every time)

I'm adding more and more things to this post because I'm on the train and can't post it due to lack of data, how's your day going

[dazevi]

CHAPTER FIVE: TELL HER

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: vi doesn’t take your response well, falling back into the one thing that always drags her down even further—alcohol. meanwhile, you’re left to reflect on your own reaction, struggling to figure out what it is you truly want. when jayce decides to give vi a reality check, she decides to pull herself together and sets her mind on planning something special.

content warnings: MDNI. slightly suggestive content, more angst, some fluff, hurt/comfort??, rockstar!vi, bookshop owner/writer!reader, exes to lovers, friends with benefits dynamic (kinda), so exes to fwb to lovers, alcohol/drinking, smoking, bestfriend!jayce, kissing, vi is sooooo in love … if im missing anything else please lmk!

wc: 20,080 (slightly inaccurate since i made some edits)

notes: ok ok ok im so so so so sorry for the long wait when i kept saying that i was gonna upload this chapter soon. i have gotten so busy these past couple weeks with work plus taking care of my grandma, so i’ve been struggling to write for a bit, but i finally got this chapter done! it’s also currently the longest chapter of the series, i hope i didn’t stretch it out too long to the point it gets boring, but i hope you all enjoy it :) ty for ur patience! also lovely fanart by bunimint_ on IG !

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Her head fucking hurts. She’s lost count of how many drinks she’s had—whiskey, mostly, the sharp burn of it sliding down her throat, but never really reaching that part of her that needs numbing the most. Besides that, the club is too loud. Music pounding through the speakers, some deep, bass heavy track that makes the floor vibrate beneath her boots. It was full of shouts, laughter, the clink of glasses—but it’s all just noise.

Vi sits slouched in the corner of the bar, a cigarette tucked behind her ear, the smoke of someone else’s drifting too close, burning her nose. The lights are dim, neon flickers bleeding red and blue across the bottles lined up behind the bar. She rubs at her temple, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the liquid swirling in her glass.

It’s been weeks since she last saw you. Since she watched you pull away from her, watched you cry, watched you remind her of the rules she stupidly agreed to.

Your words ring inside her head.

Then, she takes another slow sip. It doesn’t help.

Vi’s phone buzzes against the surface of the bar, but she doesn’t look at it right away. It’s probably Ekko or Loris wondering where the hell she is, why she’s ghosted them for the past few days. Or maybe it’s Steb sending her some dumb meme to make her laugh, like that’s gonna fix the massive fucking hole in her chest.

It could even be her manager. She’s gotten too many calls from him this week—all of them she ignored.

She swallows the thought down with the rest of her drink, signaling the bartender for another. She just sits there, drowning in the noise, wishing it was enough to make her forget you.

Her phone buzzes again. The screen lights up on the bar, her manager’s name glowing and flashing across the top of the screen. She watches it ring, until it goes silent.

That’s the fourth call tonight. The tenth this week. She doesn’t bother listening to the voicemails—she already knows what he wants. She can already hear him over the phone, telling her that her time’s up, and that it’s time to get back to work.

She used to jump into the thought of work.

But now, she doesn’t even want to think about. All of it feels too big, too exhausting.

And, she’d rather think about you.

And it’s fucked up—she knows that—but you’re the only thing her mind keeps circling back to. She replays that night in her head—the way you looked at her that night, standing there in your apartment, eyes glistening with tears, the way your voice cracked… the way you didn’t say I love you back.

Vi knocks back the rest of her drink and taps the bar for another.

She’s drunk. She knows it. She drags a hand down her face, her and leans back forward against the counter.

She’s so fucking drunk, and still, the ache in her chest is sharper than ever.

“Holy shit… it’s Vi!”

Oh, for fucks sake.

“Vi! From The Lanes!”

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t move. Just grips the glass a little harder, teeth pressing into her bottom lip.

Of course. Of fucking course.

“Guys! It’s Vi! Right over here—come look!”

A few heads turn. The man—some guy she doesn’t recognize, drunk off his ass—waves his arms like he’s discovered some kind of rare fucking animal.

“No way.”

“Vi? Like—Like, Violet Lanes?”

“Shit, get a picture—”

Her head is pounding. The music is too loud, the lights too bright, and now there are people inching closer, whispering and grinning, phones already coming out.

She shoves her glass away from her, ice clinking too loud against the counter.

“Not tonight,” she mutters under her breath, voice rough, but the guy doesn’t get the hint. He’s still calling people over, still beaming like this is some fan meet-and-greet she didn’t agree to.

“Vi, man—you gotta let me buy you a drink,” he says, his hand reaching out, like he might actually touch her shoulder.

Vi flinches back. “Don’t.”

Her head is fucking killing her.

“Fuck off,” she says, louder this time, not even bothering to look at them. “I’m not in the mood.”

The guy laughs, like she’s kidding—like this is all part of the show.

But it’s not. It’s really fucking not.

And he still doesn’t take the hint. He’s still grinning, still too close, and Vi can feel the heat creeping up her neck. It’s the alcohol—making her blood too hot, her patience too thin—but it’s also everything else.

“Come on, Vi,” he says. “Just one picture—”

He touches her arm.

She shoves him back, not hard enough to send him flying, but hard enough to make a point.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

The guy stumbles a little and his friends go quiet.

“Vi, chill—” someone mutters.

She stands, the bar stool scraping back with an ugly screech. Her jaw locks, and she’s already picturing how it would feel. Just one hit. Just to make him back off.

Her knuckles twitch.

But she doesn’t.

She doesn’t—because she knows what happens if she does. Knows the headlines that’ll follow. Vi from The Lanes Punches Fan in Nightclub. Knows her manager will tear her apart the second she picks up her phone. Knows this asshole isn’t worth the trouble.

“Fuck,” Vi mutters.

She pushes past them—shoulders stiff, teeth grinding—ignoring the half-hearted apologies, the drunken protests, the phones still aimed at her.

She doesn’t stop until she’s outside.

The air hits her—cold and wet—and Vi realizes it must’ve just rained. The pavement glistens under the glow of a flickering streetlamp, puddles pooling along the alleyway. The club’s bass still thuds behind her, muffled now, but it’s better for her head.

Vi leans against the wall, bracing her palms against the rough brick, head hanging low.

And all she can think about—all she ever seems to think about these days—is you.

Vi squats down, her back against the brick wall, the damp chill seeping through her jeans. She rakes a hand through her hair, then presses the heel of her palm against her temple. Her head tips back, hitting the wall with a soft and dull thud.

She’s not sure how long she stays like that—seconds, minutes—but then she hears the scuff of shoes against wet pavement, footsteps coming closer. She doesn’t move, doesn’t look up at first. Just stares at the ground, at the smear of neon reflected in a puddle a few inches from her boot.

Then the shoes stop.

Right next to her.

Dark brown leather, a little worn at the toes but still clean. Familiar.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Vi knows that voice.

She lets out a long breath through her nose, her jaw clenching once before she finally looks up.

Jayce stands there, hands in the pockets of his coat, his brows drawn tight in that way they always do when he’s about to give her a lecture. His tie’s a little loose, like he came from some fancy dinner or meeting, but he’s still all crisp lines and polished shoes, the perfect picture of a man who’s got his shit together.

It pisses Vi off more than it should.

“How did you find me?” she mutters.

Jayce lets out a sigh. It’s not the kind of sigh that means he’s annoyed, though.

“Checked Vander’s first,” he starts. “But you weren’t there. Then checked a few of the nightclubs in town… there’s not that many, so…”

“Just leave me alone, Jayce,” she huffs.

“Can’t. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Vi doesn’t move at first. She can feel his eyes on her, like he’s waiting for her to push him away again. She lets out a frustrated breath and drops her head back against the wall again. The throbbing in her skull hasn’t stopped and her fingers itch for a cigarette

“I don’t want to go home yet.”

Jayce sighs and thinks for a moment, weighing the options in his head. When he’s done deciding, he moves to stand next to her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze lingering on the city lights in the distance, even though he’s not really looking at them.

Vi pulls out a cigarette, and lights it with her lighter, a cheap one, yellow and plastic, she bought at one when she stopped to get gas, the soft flare of the flame briefly illuminating her face before the smoke curls into the cool air.

Jayce doesn’t say anything, just watches her. He knows she’s not okay, knows that she hasn’t been for a while now. But he doesn’t push.

Vi exhales a long, slow breath of smoke, watching it twist and fade in the air. She wants to scream, wants to throw something, anything. She’s so damn tired of feeling like she’s losing everything.

She glances over at Jayce from the corner of her eye. There’s concern in his gaze, but no judgment.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.

She’s not sure why she says it. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk, maybe because Jayce is the only one who hasn’t looked at her like she’s already gone. Maybe because she needs to say it out loud for someone to hear.

Jayce doesn’t respond right away. The alleyway smells like wet concrete and stale smoke, and Vi’s head still pounds as she rolls the cig between her teeth, the taste of tobacco bitter on her tongue.

She hear Jayce shift beside her, leaning against the wall with a quiet sigh, “Mel says that… ____’s mad at you.”

Vi’s lips curl into a smirk, slow and humorless. She lets out a sharp breath through her nose, shaking her head softly.

“Understatement of the century,” she says roughly.

She keeps her gaze fixed on the slick ground in front of her, a single puddle catching the glow of a distant streetlamp. Anything to keep from looking at Jayce. Anything to keep from seeing the pity that’s probably written all over his face.

She can still hear you—your voice, the way you said her name like it was a weapon.

I told you what this was, Violet.

She shakes her head at the thought of Jayce even being here. She doesn’t need a lecture. She doesn’t need a pep talk. She doesn’t need someone else telling her how badly she fucked up—she already knows.

“Have you talked to her at all?”

“Jayce.” Vi furrows her brows, throwing her unfinished cig into the puddle she was staring at before standing and turning towards him, “What the fuck is this?”

Jayce doesn’t flinch at her sharp tone, but he exhales through his nose and watches the cigarette fizzle out in the puddle, a tiny hiss of smoke rising and disappearing into air.

“I’m just asking,” he says softly.

Vi scrubs a hand over her face, her palm dragging down the length of her scarred cheek before she plants it firmly on her hip, the other hand raking through her already-messy hair.

“No, what the fuck is this?” she repeats, louder this time. “Did Mel put you up to this? Did she tell you to come track me down and play therapist? Huh?”

Jayce tilts his head, his jaw flexing. “No one put me up to anything, Vi.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not.” His voice is firm when he speaks. “Believe it or not, I care about you, Vi. I care about you and I care about ____. And, clearly, you’re spiraling.”

Vi lets out a bitter laugh, pacing two steps back and then forward again, like she can’t stand still, like the walls of the alley are pressing in on her.

“You don’t know shit,” she snaps.

“Don’t I?” Jayce’s voice hardens. “I know you’re drunk right now. I know that everyone’s wondering where you are. I know that they’re worried about you. I’m worried about you. Just because you haven’t been here for a while doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

Vi looks away.

“And everyone knows it’s because you’re still in love with her.”

“Don’t,” she warns.

Jayce watches her carefully. “Vi…”

She looks up at him then, eyes bloodshot and glassy, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard.

“Just leave it,” she mutters. “Please.”

“Talk to her,” he says softly.

Vi lets out a bitter laugh, “She won’t even fucking listen to me!”

Jayce clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, watching Vi pace around right in front of him—something she recognizes her doing every time she was feeling hot headed.

“She doesn’t even love me anymore, so what’s the fucking point?” Vi says again.

Jayce exhales through his nose, “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

She’s pacing again, boots scuffing against the wet pavement. Her hand twitches toward her pocket—probably for another cigarette—but she stops herself.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me,” Vi mutters, more to herself than to Jayce now. “Like I was a mistake. Like she regretted ever—”

Her voice breaks off, and she presses the heel of her palm to her eye, like she can shove the tears back in before they even have the chance to fall.

Jayce watches her quietly for a moment, “Vi…”

But Vi’s already shaking her head, blinking hard.

“She told me—” she pauses, swallowing hard. “She told me she didn’t want anything more with me.”

She lets out a shaky breath.

“And I said okay. I said fucking okay because I thought… I thought maybe if I just stuck around long enough, she’d change her mind. That she’d see that I still—”

She cuts herself off again, biting down on the words before they can fully slip out. Her shoulders sag, head tipping back against the brick wall as she stares up.

“She doesn’t love me anymore,” Vi whispers, so quiet now that Jayce almost doesn’t hear it.

He shakes his head, his brows pulling together. “You really believe that?”

Vi’s gaze moves away—down the alley, anywhere but him.

“Vi,” Jayce says again, “If she really didn’t love you, you think any of this would hurt her so much?”

Her throat bobs. “She doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

“Maybe because it’s easier than admitting what she actually still feels for you.”

Vi lets out a shaky breath, running both hands through her hair now, tugging at the roots like it might pull the thoughts straight out of her head.

“Look… people don’t get that angry—don’t get that hurt—unless they still care,” he says quietly.

Jayce’s voice softens as he steps closer.

“She’s just scared, Vi.”

Vi opens her mouth to argue, to push back, but nothing comes out. She knows it’s true.

“She’s not gonna let anything else happen unless she believes you’re really here to stay.”

Her heart beats heavy in her chest, and she feels Jayce’s words on her shoulders. And to be honest, she’s scared, too. Scared to face everything she’s fucked up. Scared of making another stupid mistake. Like asking for more with you, telling you she loves you, when you weren’t even ready for it yet.

And maybe, just maybe, Jayce is right. Maybe she hasn’t lost you completely. Maybe she still has a chance.

Vi leans her head back against the wall, her eyes closing for a moment as she lets out a long, shaky breath.

“Just get your shit together, Vi. You can talk to her whenever you’re ready,” Jayce says, kicking himself off of the wall, dusting his jacket off. “And be honest. If you just give her some time, she’ll think it through… And I’m sure she’ll wanna talk to you about it… with whatever she decides.”

And for a moment, Vi looks at him, raising a curious eyebrow.

“You got all this from Mel, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

Vi smirk and shakes her head, turning away to think for a moment.

Minutes of silence pass between them and Jayce begins to think about what might be going on in that head of hers. Vi can be reckless sometimes, for sure, but…

“I think… there’s something I wanna do first.”

Lately, your phone has been more like dead weight in your pocket than anything else. It vibrates, it chimes but you don’t check it. Not right away. Sometimes not at all. It’s easier that way. You just can’t. The screen lights up on the counter now, another message coming through, but you keep your eyes on the open book in front of you. You haven’t turned a page in ten minutes. The words blur together, the sentences dissolving into meaningless shapes, but you keep staring anyway.

You already know what’s waiting for you if you look.

Mel’s worried messages. Your mom’s reminders about dinner this weekend. And Vi—you don’t even want to see her name glowing on the screen.

Now you’re staring right at it. And you don’t even remember picking up your phone. But here you are.

The last message from her is still there: can we talk?

You never answered. It’s been days. Probably weeks. Time feels weird lately—slipping by too fast and too slow all at once. But that message lingers. Just like she always does. And fuck, you wish it didn’t. You wish Vi didn’t still take up so much space in your mind but she does.

And you know exactly why.

Because you still love her.

And that’s what makes all of this so much worse.

But what would you even say? That it still hurts? That you still think about her? That no matter how much you try to push her away, she’s still there in your mind, even when you told yourself time and time again that you’d forget about her.

Now, the days have started to blur together.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm, the same sound every morning but it still feels like a knife to your brain when your eyes flutter open. Just another day starting, just another reminder that you have to get up, have to keep moving. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, the sheets start to feel cold all over again—because there’s never anyone there to warm the other side.

You don’t think about it too much. Or at least, you tell yourself you don’t.

Then it’s the bookshop.

The same key turning in the lock, the same creak of the door as it opens, the same scent of pages and worn leather covers. You used to love it—still do, in a way—but the magic has dulled a little. Maybe it’s because you’re reminded of the way you started, when Vi was here to keep you company and help you out when the shop was just opening.

You water the plants by the front window, straighten the stacks of books people left behind in the wrong spots, flip the sign to Open. Some customers trickle in—a few regulars who smile politely, some who don’t even make eye contact—and you help them find what they need, ring them up, thank them for coming.

And then it’s quiet again.

You check the time too often. Tell yourself not to, but you do. And it’s always slower than you expect.

By the time you flip the sign again and lock the door, the sky is a dark. Streetlights buzz faintly above you as you walk home every evening, your bag slung over your shoulder, your thoughts too loud.

And then it’s back to your apartment.

The place is too still when you walk in. You kick off your shoes, drop your bag by the door, and stand there for a second too long like you’re waiting for something. But nothing happens.

You shower. Eat something—usually whatever takes the least effort. And then you crawl into bed, the sheets still cold. Your phone sits on the nightstand. You don’t look at it.

Then, you sleep.

And wake up.

And do it all over again.

And no matter how hard you try not to, you think about Vi.

It sneaks up on you, when the shop is quiet and the only sound is the soft flutter of a page turning, or when you’re lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, the space next to you too empty.

What is she doing? The question echoes in your head more often than you’d like.

Maybe she’s packing her things right now. Shoving worn tees and jeans into a duffel bag, zipping it up without a second glance, like it’s easy. Like it’s nothing. Maybe she’s already left—got on a bus or a plane, disappearing to some other big, fancy city.

She could. Vi could leave.

Maybe this time, though, it’s not about chasing a dream or a career. And maybe she’s finally too defeated to fight for you anymore. Maybe this was the moment she realized there’s nothing left to fight for. That she lost. That you’re gone.

But you were just protecting yourself, right? Weren’t you?

Sometimes, you’d think about asking Mel for some more advice.

You love her. You really do. She’s always been the voice of reason. But tonight, even though you know she’d pick up on the first ring, you don’t call her.

Because you already know what she’d say.

She’d sigh, probably a little exasperated but mostly concerned, and she’d tell you that you need to talk to Vi—really talk to her—because this silence, this distance, is only making it worse. She’d remind you that you still love Vi, that it’s obvious to everyone, that pushing her away hasn’t stopped that hurt in your chest or the way your thoughts circle back to her every damn night. She’d tell you that Vi is a mess without you.

You saw, peeking at one of her messages, that Jayce found her flat out drunk outside of a club one night.

And most of all, she’d tell you that you’re scared.

But, you know all of this already.

So you don’t call Mel.

You can lie to yourself about a lot of things. You can tell yourself that this distance is what you wanted. That you were the one who pushed her away, the one who set the rules, the one who told her no commitment—and that Vi was only ever following your lead.

But what you can’t lie about—not to yourself, not to anyone—is how much you miss her.

It’s a hard thing to admit, even when there’s no one around to hear it.

It means that no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise… you still love her.

The truth might be hardest part.

Because, deep down… all you’ve ever wanted was for Vi to be with you. Not just in pieces, not just in passing—but wholly, fully.

Maybe it’s time to be honest with yourself.

You’ve spent so long hiding behind the walls you built, pretending that the space between you and Vi was what you wanted. You told yourself it was for the best, that it was easier this way—no complications, no expectations, no getting hurt again. But you know for a fact that it’s all been a lie.

Because every time you push it away, every time you convince yourself it’s better to stay away, it only gets harder to ignore what you’re really feeling.

So, maybe it’s time to stop running from it. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending that you can move on when all your heart wants is to turn back, to let her back in.

Maybe you should be honest with Vi.

You owe it to yourself. You owe it to her. No matter how much you try to tell yourself otherwise, you know you can’t keep living like this… can’t keep hiding behind you r feelings. You’ve already spent years hurting yourself trying to ignore it.

And it might be terrifying. But for the first time in a long while, you wonder if maybe that’s the way forward—not hiding, not pretending, but facing what’s been there all along.

And maybe that’s why you’re standing outside of this club in the middle of the night, the cool air biting at your skin.

You didn’t even realize how you ended up here. It almost felt like an out-of-body experience. Your feet carried you here on their own. You didn’t plan it—hell, you didn’t even really want to come.

You called Jayce earlier, your voice shaky even though you tried to hide it. Just a simple question. Where’s Vi?

His response was almost too quick. He didn’t even seem surprised you were asking.

And now, here you are. Outside the club, standing out in the open, feeling like a fool.

What the hell are you doing here?

You don’t know if it’s courage or madness that brought you to this here, but now that you’re here, you feel a little paralyzed. There’s a lump in your throat, your hands cold as you wrap them around your arms for warmth. Your thoughts are racing, but they’re all tangled up. Should you go in? What if she’s not here? What if she sees you and walks away?

You could turn around and go home. You could pretend none of this ever happened, that you never came searching for her.

But, before you could even take a step forward towards the door, Vi stumbles out.

You freeze in place, your breath catching in your throat as you watch her. A cigarette dangles loosely between her lips, the smoke trailing behind her as she stumbles just a little. She’s not looking where she’s going, lost in whatever space she’s in, completely unaware of you standing there.

For a second, it almost feels like you shouldn’t be here. Like you shouldn’t even be watching her like this, as if you’ve caught some part of her that wasn’t meant for you to see. She looks… tired. Defeated, almost. And you’re left standing there, staring at her, your heart pounding in your chest like it’s going to break through your ribs.

Vi stops a few feet away, her hand fumbling with the cigarette, eyes still unfocused as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then, finally, she looks up, and when her eyes meet yours, it’s like everything comes crashing back.

Her face softens just slightly. She doesn’t say anything right away, but the look in her eyes makes your heart race. She opens her mouth, as if to say something, but the words seem to die before they can leave her lips.

Vi takes a step toward you, then stops herself, like she’s unsure if she should. Her eyes flicker between you and the ground, her fingers twitching at her side as if she wants to reach out but can’t bring herself to. The cigarette is still hanging from her lips, now forgotten, burning down to nothing. She takes a long, slow drag from it and then finally tosses it to the ground, grinding it out beneath her boot with a soft sigh.

“Why are you here?”

She didn’t say it in a mean way… just… curious. And confused.

You look at her and answer honestly, quietly, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” she repeats.

You shake your head slowly, “I don’t.”

It’s true, though. You don’t really know why you’re here. Maybe it’s because you missed her. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to lose what little of her you still have left. Maybe it’s just the way your heart aches every time you think about her, every time you let yourself wonder if there’s a chance to make things right again.

Vi stares at you for a moment, her eyes searching, like she’s looking for something in your face that might give her an answer. And just when you think she’s about to pull away, retreating back into the walls she’s built around herself, she steps closer. Her hand rubs the back of her neck, that nervous habit of hers. She looks at you, then away, and you can tell she’s trying to figure out whether this is real or just a dream in her mind, watching it like it’s in front of her.

“I… don’t know what you want from me,” she says quietly.

You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Instead, you study her face. Her eyes look tired, a steady frown on her lips as she looks at you, dazed.

“Maybe, we should talk about this later…” you murmur softly. “When you’re sober.”

“I’m not drunk,” she says too quickly.

She opens her mouth again, but her words falter, as if she’s trying to convince herself more than you.

“I’m not—” she starts again, but her voice sounds quieter than before, and she trails off.

You sigh and take a step back, keeping the distance between you just enough to give her space, but not too far away to make her feel abandoned. For a brief moment, she looks like she wants to protest all over again, like she wants to tell you she’s fine, that she’s been through worse and this doesn’t bother her.

But instead, her eyes soften, just slightly. Her lips tighten, and she simply nods, though it’s a reluctant one.

You take a late bus ride home with her—back to that old neighborhood you both used to live in.

The bus ride felt like it stretched on forever, the city lights flickering past the window in flashes of neon and fading streetlamps but none of it mattered.

Not when Vi couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

She hadn’t said anything in the last few minutes. She didn’t know what to say. But her eyes were glued to you, tracing the soft curve of your profile as the light hit your face. She wanted to reach out, to touch you—her fingers aching for soft feel of your skin. She wanted to press her cheek against your shoulder, close her eyes, and breathe you in like she used to. The simple, familiar warmth of you against her. She wanted to hold your hand, to intertwine her fingers with yours, but the fear of rejection all over again kept her frozen in place.

So instead, she just stared.

Her eyes lingered on you, taking in every small detail, from the way your hair fell softly around your face to the way you absentmindedly tapped your fingers against your knee, to the way your lips press together tightly for a quick second whenever you were lost in thought. Everything about you felt so familiar, so desperately close, but so far out of reach.

When the bus finally pulled to a stop and you both got off, Vi still didn’t say anything.

The neighborhood looked the same as it always had, the houses standing like quiet sentinels on either side of the street, the trees lining the road, long shadows just beneath them.

She walked beside you, close, her steps almost too quiet. She couldn’t help herself—her eyes kept darting to you, taking in the way you held yourself, the way your shoulders shifted ever so slightly when you took each step.

And when you reach Vander’s house, Vi’s childhood home standing just in front of your mother’s, Vi felt her heart race again. She wanted to ask if you were okay, wanted to say something, to close the gap between the two of you.

But then you stop walking, just as your reach the end of Vi’s driveway, turning to look at her. Her eyes meet your immediately and you know for a fact that Vi didn’t want you or her to go anywhere.

“You should go,” you say politely, nodding your head towards the house behind her.

It wasn’t meant to push her away, not exactly, but you both knew how fragile things were between you at the moment, and you weren’t really sure what else to say. What else could you say?

But Vi didn’t move, didn’t take the step toward her front door like you had expected. She just stood there, staring at you, her face unreadable as she fidgeted with her hands, unsure of herself.

Finally, her voice cuts through, “Do you wanna come in?”

Vi’s voice trembled, just a little, as if she wasn’t sure whether she should have said it at all. Her eyes searched yours, looking for something—permission, maybe reassurance. It was so different from the confident, stubborn woman you’d once known.

A hundred things flashed through your mind in an instant: the memories of Vi in this house, her old bedroom—laughing, arguing, falling asleep on her couch, her bed with her arm around your shoulders, the sound of her voice soft in the dark.

But all those thoughts felt so far away now, like a dream you could barely reach.

“Maybe not tonight,” you whispered.

She nods.

Not tonight. Vi tries to study your face, like she wasn’t sure what your words meant. But her gaze softened, and the slight tremble in her hand betrayed how much this moment mattered to her, how much she needed something—anything—from you.

She take a breath before muttering, “I miss you.”

Those three words were almost enough to knock the breath out of you.

Vi waited, her eyes never leaving yours. She stood there offering something you still weren’t sure you could take—or something you weren’t sure you should take.

You shook your head, the concern rising again, but your heart already knew the answer.

“You’re drunk, Violet,” you whisper softly, not wanting to be harsh, but—

“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I don’t miss you,” she said.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the distance between you closing with every word she spoke. Maybe it was the way she looked at you. Maybe it was the fact that you missed her too.

But still, you hesitated, unsure of what to say back.

“Vi…” you started, but the words didn’t come easily, and you could see the way she stiffened, like she was bracing for the rejection she expected.

Her eyes softened and she sighed, before taking a step back, giving you some space.

She nods again.

“When I’m sober,” she says.

“Yeah…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s looking at you, waiting, her breath uneven, her hands twitching at her sides like she wants to grab you, pull you in, make you understand. But all you can do is swallow the lump in your throat and try to call yourself, even though your heart seems to be pounding so loudly in your chest.

You nod your head towards her house again. “You should go in—”

“You first.”

You sigh, already knowing Vi won’t budge. It was familiar.

Back in high school, after nights when she’d take you out on a date, take you home after some school dance or game, whatever it was, she always made sure you got home safely, watching you outside of her own house as you stepped into yours. And it’s only when she sees the door shut after you when she finally turns on her heel and goes home.

“Can I call you?” she asks, just as you turn to walk away.

You stop. Your heart skips, and you let out a soft breath before turning halfway, catching the way she’s already bracing herself for a no.

Buy you look back at her and smile softly, “When you’re sober?”

The corner of Vi’s mouth twitches, but the smile never really makes it, “Yeah.”

Your game lingers on her for a moment, watching as she stuffs her hands into the pocket a off her jacket.

“Goodnight, Violet.”

You don’t look back this time. You just keep walking, the night quiet except for the soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement as you head towards the house a cross the street.

Vi stays frozen at the edge of her driveway, watching your silhouette disappear behind the front door of your old house.

Three days pass since you same her that night. Watching her stand there, half-dazed from the alcohol, eyes tracing, trying to memorize each and every detail of you.

You wondered if she remembered. Did she? Or did she wake up, head pounding, wondering how she even got home?

You try not to think about it, but you really can’t help it. You can’t stop the thoughts that slip into your mind. You wonder if she’s forgotten about it. If she’s forgotten about you.

But a big part of your heart doesn’t let you believe that.

You know it’s a foolish thought, it’s hard not to think about. You wish she’d call. Just to hear her voice, even if it’s only for a minute.

Then, she does.

It’s late when your phone buzzes, and the sound startles you. You’ve been lying in bed for what feels like hours. You’re not sure what you were expecting tonight, but it certainly wasn’t this. Not at this hour.

When you glance at the screen, your heart skips a beat.

You stare at the name for a moment.

It’s been three days. Three silent days. Your thumb hovers over the screen, uncertain, as if maybe it’s some mistake. Maybe it’s just some fluke, a wrong number or a dream.

But it’s her name.

Your thumb is already swiping across the screen, and before you know it, you’re answering, “Hello?”

It’s quiet for a moment on the other end, and you wonder if she’s second-guessing this, if she’s having the same hesitations you did before she called. You can almost hear her breathing, like she’s trying to find the right thing to say.

“Hey,” she says.

You sit up in bed, your eyes closing as you press the phone closer to your ear.

“Sorry, I know it’s late…”

You swallow, your mouth dry. “It’s okay.”

“I… I’m sober,” she lets out a shaky breath.

You can’t help but smile softly. She remembered.

“That’s good, Vi.”

She sighs on the other end.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot… but…” She hesitates, “I… I want to talk about it in person.”

In person.

“When?” you say nervously.

“Uh, can you come by Vander’s tomorrow? After work? I-If you’re working, I mean. Or whichever day you’re free.” Her voice is soft, nervous, like she’s afraid you’d say no.

You nod to yourself, though she can’t see you. Your heart races as you say quietly, “I’ll go after I close the shop.”

“Yeah… okay.”

There’s another pause, and then Vi’s voice comes through again, quieter than before.

“I miss you.”

You probably shouldn’t say it, but you do anyway.

“Me too.”

On the other end of the line, Vi lies flat on her back in her childhood bedroom, the phone pressed tight against her ear, her free hand draped over her face as if that could somehow hide the flush creeping up her neck. She’s staring at the ceiling—at the faint cracks in the paint, the old band posters she put up when she was seventeen, the ones she never bothered to take down. It smells the same in here, but now with the faint scent of the cigarettes she now smokes outside but somehow still manages to drag in with her.

Her heart is racing and it almost feels stupid, how nervous she is, how her whole body feels like it’s buzzing, like she’s back in high school, lying in this exact room, talking to you on the phone late into the night, whispering so Vander wouldn’t hear that she’s awake past midnight.

And Vi swears her heart stumbles in her chest when she hears your voice, her hand dragging down her face. She’s blushing—full-on red as a damn tomato—and it’s so ridiculous that she actually closes her eyes, biting back a smile, because it’s you. It’s always been you.

Her voice is quieter now, rough but tender, the words slipping out before she can think too hard about them.

“Really?” She asks softly, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Your cheeks instantly get hot and your clear your throat before quickly saying, “See you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before she can even get a word out.

And then, Vi smiles.

The soft beep of the call ending echoes through her room, and for a second, she just lies there, blinking at the ceiling, the phone still in her hand. Then, she drops the phone onto her chest. You blushed. She heard it in your voice, before you hung up so quick.

She’s nervous. And she can only hope everything she planned, goes well.

The sky is a deep orange when you close up shop and start your walk towards Vander’s bar. The air is warm but it was cooling fast, a breeze slipping beneath your jacket and brushes against your bare legs.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing here when you arrive, outside of The Last Drop, just staring at the worn sign hanging above the door, just like you did the time Vi asked you to come on Benzo’s birthday. The neon letters are bright against the brick wall, hanging just above the door.

You tug your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders, the simple dress beneath it fluttering lightly with the wind. It’s nothing fancy—you told yourself you didn’t dress up for this. Didn’t want to. That you wouldn’t. But there’s still a small part of you that combed through your closet this morning for something just nice, pretty enough—something Vi might notice anyway.

The street is mostly empty, just a few people lingering further down, the occasional sound of a car passing by. The bar’s windows glow dimly from the inside, soft lights spilling out onto the sidewalk, but it’s quiet—just a bit early for the late night crowd.

And from where you’re standing, you can’t tell if Vi is even here.

You swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes stay fixed on the door. It would be so easy to turn around, walk back the way you came, head home to your apartment and pretend you never came here at all.

But your feet don’t move. You promised yourself that you’d be brave. And honest.

So, you step in.

The door creaks softly as you push it open, and the scent of old wood and faint cigarette smoke wafts over you. The bar is quieter than you expected—just a few regulars hunched over their drinks, the clink of glasses and the low hum of some rock song playing through the crackling speakers filling the room.

Vander’s behind the bar, wiping down a glass with a rag, his broad frame taking up space behind the counter just as you remember. His beard’s a little grayer now, but his eyes still looked the same—the kind that always made you feel welcome, even on the nights when you and Vi would stumble in after one of your countless fights after school, both of you pretending you hadn’t just spent the walk here arguing, bantering, even though he knew that you’d make up an hour later.

The door swings shut behind you with a soft thud, and Vander’s head lifts at the sound.

“Hi, Vander,” you greet.

“Welcome back,” he says with a smile. “Vi’s out back. Had her help with some of the new supplies that came in today.”

You manage a small smile, tugging your jacket a little closer around yourself, unsure what to say. But you don’t have to, because before you can even open your mouth, Vander’s already turning, peeking his head into the small kitchen behind the bar.

“Vi!” he calls out.

Your heart jumps.

A clatter sounds from the back; a faint curse, something heavy being set down and then there’s the sound of footsteps, slow at first, then quicker, like she was rushing.

And all you can do is stand there, staring at the kitchen door, bracing yourself for the moment she walks through it.

The kitchen door swings open just enough for Vi to peek out, her shoulder braced against the frame, and the moment her gaze lands on you, standing there, soft and still and backlit by the dim glow of the bar lights—her heart skips.

Her hair is a mess, unruly and half-falling out of the loose, low, short ponytail she must’ve tied back hours ago. There’s a smear of flour or maybe grease across her forearm, and her knuckles are dusted with something dark—soot from the ancient stove, probabl—and for a second, Vi’s painfully aware of how she must look. Like she just climbed out of a fight with the kitchen itself.

And then there’s you.

Vi’s lips part—not because she knows what to say, but because she doesn’t. She just stares for a beat too long, her chest rising and falling a little too fast, her fingers tightening around the edge of the doorframe.

“Uh…” She finally says, like it had to fight its way out of her throat.

Her brain’s moving too slow—still caught somewhere between how pretty you look and how completely unprepared she suddenly feels.

You don’t say anything yet. Just look at her with those wide, unreadable eyes—the ones that always made her feel like you could see right through her. Vi swallows. Her free hand rakes through her hair, trying to smooth it down, but it only makes the strands stick up more, and she curses softly under her breath. You smile just a little and it’s enough to knock the air right out of her lungs.

Vi’s voice cracks just a little when she stammers, “O-One sec. Let me get my things.”

Then, before you can respond, she disappears back into the kitchen like she’s running from a fire.

You hear a clatter again—something metal hitting the floor. There’s a shuffle of movement, the sound of a zipper being yanked too hard, and then Vi’s voice again, muffled: “Shit—where the hell—”

You stand there, still, your fingers idly brushing the hem of your jacket as Vander watches from behind the bar with an amused smirk, wiping down another glass. The warm hum of the bar seems distant—the soft chatter of conversations, the scrape of a chair against the floor but all you can really focus on is the faint noise of Vi scrambling around in the back.

She’s nervous. You’ve known her long enough to tell.

And you are too.

When Vi reappears, she’s breathless—hair still a little disheveled, but free from they messy, low pony she had on earlier, cheeks a little flushed—but she’s shed the dirty apron, now holding a leather jacket in one hand and shoving her phone into her back pocket with the other. Her boots scuff against the floor as she stops just short of you, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” she says, like she’s still catching up to the moment. Then, with a quick glance down at herself—like she’s realizing, too late, that she still smells faintly of smoke and whatever the hell she was cooking back there—Vi clears her throat. “Uh… ready.”

You blink at her, tilting your head slightly. “Are we going somewhere?”

Vi’s eyes widen and for a split second, she looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, right! Y-Yeah,” she stutters, the words tripping over themselves. Her gaze darts to the window, like she’s only just noticing how the sky outside has deepened from soft orange to dusky purple, the last light of the sun slipping away. “I… I wanted to show you something.”

She doesn’t elaborate.

Your lips part slightly, a question at the tip of your tongue—but you don’t ask. Not yet.

Instead, you watch as Vi fiddles with the zipper of her leather jacket, her fingers twitchy and restless. She keeps stealing glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking and then drop to the way your dress falls around your legs, soft and simple, before she hastily looks away again like she’s scolding herself.

She’s nervous. It’s endearing.

You smile gently, adjusting your jacket over your shoulders, and let the silence stretch just a little longer—enough to make Vi’s throat bob as she swallows hard.

“Is it far?” you ask softly, finally breaking the silence.

Vi’s gaze snaps back to yours. “Its, uh, a bit of a drive… but not too far. Promise.”

You give her another small smile and nod. “Okay.”

Relief flashes across Vi’s face so quickly you almost miss it. She steps back, motioning toward the door with a jerk of her chin.

“Come on,” she says. “It’s better if I just show you.”

Vi leads you through the back door of the bar, her hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching, like she wants to guide you but thinks better of it at the last second. It’s a bit colder outside now, the heat slipping away into a soft breeze.

Her truck is parked there, a beat-up thing that looks like it’s seen better days—faded red paint, a dent in the front bumper, a sticker peeling off the back window. Just like you remember. And without a word, Vi steps ahead, pulling open the passenger side door for you. You climb in, the worn leather seat creaking softly under you, and Vi closes the door carefully, before roundjng the truck and jogging over to the driver’s side.

There’s a beat of silence got a moment—just the two of you sitting there. Then Vi reaches forward, twisting the key in the ignition. The truck starts, and the radio clicks on—low music filtering through her old speakers, some soft, indie song you don’t recognize. And it’s quiet enough that you can still hear Vi’s shaky breath as she shifts into gear and pulls out of the lot.

The drive is silent, for the most part.

You steal a glance at Vi, the way her fingers flex around the steering wheel, her thumb tapping against it. Her jaw is tight, her left knee bouncing ever so slightly.

She’s nervous. Extremely.

She hasn’t looked at you once since you got in the truck. Not directly. But her knuckles are white where they grip the wheel, and you can tell—she’s thinking about you.

“You okay?” you ask softly, not because you don’t know the answer, but because you want to hear her say something.

Vi’s fingers tighten around the wheel.

“Yeah,” she says too quickly. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Thinking.

You don’t ask about what.

Instead, you just turn your gaze back to the road ahead, watching as the lights of the town blur past. The road twists and turns as Vi drives, the town slowly fading behind, buildings growing fewer. The truck hums along, the music still playing softly through the speakers, though neither of you has said much since you left the bar.

You glance at Vi again, at the way her fingers grip the wheel, her jaw working like she’s chewing on a thousand words but swallowing every last one. She’s tense, sure, but there’s something kind of bright in her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s holding back a smile.

You begin to wonder now—Where are we going?

But then… you start to notice the way the road curves just so. The familiar slope of the hill you know all too well. The buildings growing further and further now in the rearview mirror, until there’s nothing left but open sky and that long, winding road that stretches upward on the hill.

There’s no way, you think.

But… you can see it from here now.

That old drive-in movie theater at the top of the hill, long abandoned but still standing. The massive, weathered screen towers above the lot, cracked and peeling but somehow still proud. Rows of broken, overgrown parking spaces stretch out before it, grass pushing through the cracks in the ground.

It’s exactly the same. Older. But the same.

And suddenly, you remember the nights spent here, years ago—sneaking in after hours when the place had already shut down, lying on the hood of Vi’s old car, watching the stars instead of whatever movie was playing, because Vi could never really sit still long enough to actually watch anything… especially with you there next to her.

It was the first date she took you on, after years of growing up together, secretly crushing on each other, after finally confessing to you when sophomore year had barely started. She took you here, soon after Vander had gifted her the truck on her sixteenth birthday. She saved up for weeks, trying to make it all perfect, grabbing dinner at that pizza place you like, picking flowers in some random field after band practice and giving it to you when she finally mustered up the courage to ask you out. You remember the way she’d steal glances at you instead of the screen—the way her fingers would twitch like she wanted to touch you but didn’t know if she should. The way she’d finally work up the courage, lacing her pinky with yours, cheeks flushed even in the dark. You kissed her here for the first time, surprising her, and not only did Vi fall more in love with you, she fell in love with kissing you.

And now—here you are again.

Vi pulls the truck into the middle of the lot, the perfect spot for a good view of the screen, before cutting the engine.

Silence.

The sound of the radio dies, leaning only the distant chirp of crickets and the faint whisper of the wind through the grass.

Vi’s fingers are still curled around the steering wheel, like she’s gathering the courage to let go.

Finally, she clears her throat.

“I, uh… I thought we could—” She stops, shakes her head, then tries again. “I just… I used to bring you here all the time, remember?”

Her voice is quiet. Tentative.

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I remember.”

Vi lets out a shaky breath, her thumb still tapping nervously against the steering wheel.

“I thought this place shut down a couple years ago,” you say, looking out the window.

In fact, you knew it did. You came here from time to time, while you and Vi were still dating—while you were here, and she was off far away chasing her dream. You’d come here alone from time to time when you were missing her, maybe in between months to watch a movie to pretend she was with you. You liked doing that.

But, the people who ran this place decided to shut it down, you heard. Bad business. Less and a less people coming. Not enough money coming in to keep this place running.

Your heart broke with it.

“It looks clean,” you say, eyes scanning what looked liked freshly cut grass and no sight of trash littered across the field.

Vi clears her throat before speaking again.

“I… I actually spent a few weeks getting this place fixed up,” she says quietly, glancing at you nervously.

Your heart skip another beat.

“You… What?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

She shifts in her seat, her thumb still twitching against the wheel, a nervous habit you recognize all too well. Her other hand scrubs at the back of her neck, and you catch the faintest hint of red creeping up from her collar, disappearing beneath the jacket she’s wearing.

“I, uh… yeah,” she mumbles, eyes darting to the dark screen towering above you both, the massive structure still cracked and weathered but now oddly… clean. Cleared of the overgrown vines and layers of grime that once clung to it like a second skin.

Vi lifts her gaze back to you, “I figured I could fix it up.”

You blink at her.

And she clears her throat again.

“Ekko, Steb, Loris… even Jayce. They all helped. Took a couple weeks to clean the place up. Three days just this week to make sure everything was working—” She stops herself, clears her throat. “The projector, I mean. It’s old, but… we got it running again.”

Your mouth opens—then closes.

Because suddenly, it’s so clear.

The smudges of grease on Vi’s fingers when she rushed out of the kitchen earlier tonight. The faint streak of dirt on her shirt. The way she kept checking the sky, the time—so desperate to get you here after the sun completely set.

She’d been working on this for you.

Your throat feels tight.

“You did all of this?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” she breathes, nodding nervously. “I just… I wanted to bring you back here. I thought maybe… we could talk here. And it’s quiet, so...”

She laughs softly—bitterly, almost.

“Or, y’know… we don’t have to talk, if you want. We could just sit here. Stare at the screen. Like we used to.”

Your chest aches.

Because Vi isn’t just showing you this place—this isn’t just about an old drive-in movie theater. It’s about all the time she lost, all the ways she’s trying to piece something back together. She’s standing in the ruins of what you once had, and instead of walking away… she’s trying to build something new.

For you.

You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket as you glance back at the screen, the rows of parking spots, the cleared out grass—everything Vi touched, cleaned, and fixed looking back at her.

“Vi…” you whisper, but you don’t know what to say.

The smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at each other until you quietly say, “Can you put a movie on?”

It takes Vi a second to notice—like she wasn’t expecting it—but when she finally turns her head and really looks at you, her own smile creeps up slow. It’s tentative at first, like she’s afraid to let herself feel too much, but then it grows brighter and wider, spreading across her face until her dimples flash like she’s suddenly seventeen again, sitting in front of you with a heart too full to control.

“Y-Yeah,” she stammers, the excitement in her voice is clear—impossible to hide. “Yeah—uh, just gimme a sec.”

And then she’s moving—quickly, almost tripping over her own feet in her rush to get out of the truck. She doesn’t even bother closing the door properly, leaving it cracked open as she jogs across the lot, her jacket nearly slipping off one shoulder as she reaches the small booth tucked at the back of the theater—the projector room.

You watch her climb up the short set of metal stairs—two at a time—before fumbling with the old lock on the door, muttering something to herself when it sticks for a moment. She manages to shove it open with a rough push of her shoulder, disappearing inside.

For a moment, it’s quiet.

Then, after a few seconds, a faint flicker of light appears on the blank screen in front of you.

You lean back in the seat, your heart still beating a little too fast, watching as the screen brightens as the picture starts to settle. A movie starts—and you smile, shaking your head as the music fills your ears before anything else. Star Wars: A New Hope.

And a few seconds later, Vi comes sprinting back—slightly breathless, a wide grin plastered across her face as she throws herself back into the driver’s seat.

The iconic opening is already rolling, those bold yellow letters floating through the starry sky, the score blasting through the old speakers Vi must’ve rigged back to life.

You remember the way she used to kiss you during the this movie. How she’d slip her hand into yours when Leia appeared, saying something cheesy like, “You’re prettier than her,” and you’d roll your eyes, laughing—but your heart would race, and you’d kiss her in the cheek anyway.

You smile again.

And Vi notices.

“What?” she asks, a little shy, like she’s bracing herself for you to tease her.

You shake your head, still smiling, eyes glued to the screen. “Nothing.”

But Vi doesn’t look away—not right away.

She keeps watching you, like you’re the only thing worth watching tonight.

The movie plays on, echoing softly through the speakers Vi must’ve dragged out here, though the sound’s a little scratchy, like it’s crackling at the edges. But it doesn’t really matter. Neither of you are really watching it anyway.

You can feel Vi’s gaze drift toward you every few minutes—like she’s checking, like she’s still waiting, like she’s terrified this might all be too much, too soon. But she doesn’t say anything.

It really is quiet up here, like she said—no passing cars, no city noise—just the wind brushing through the grass and the soft hum of the projector behind you.

You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself.

And then you glance at Vi.

She’s watching the screen—or at least pretending to—but her jaw is tight, her lips pressed together, like she’s biting back words. You can tell she wants to say something, the way her knee won’t stop bouncing, the way her hand keeps flexing against her thigh, like she’s thinking about reaching for yours but doesn’t dare.

So you speak first.

“Why’d you fix this place up?” you ask softly.

Vi blinks. She looks at you for a long moment, mouth parting—but nothing comes out at first.

“I… I don’t know,” she admits, running a hand through her hair—messing it up even more, if that’s possible. “I just… I remembered you saying you used to come here.”

She glances away for a moment.

“I know I wasn’t always… there. Back then.” Her jaw clenches, struggling to find the right words. “But I remembered you telling me how you’d come here sometimes—when I was on the road. After we broke up, I was on a call with dad and heard that it got shut down.”

You swallow, hard.

“I guess… I just wanted to fix it. Make it… I don’t know. Make it something good again. For you.”

You remember those nights. The ones where Vi wouldn’t call, or would miss your texts—too busy chasing the dream you told her you were proud of, even if it meant you were left behind.

You clear your throat, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “Vi…”

She shakes her head quickly, like she doesn’t want you to say anything.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” she mumbles.

Her gaze drops to her lap.

Silence again.

But before you can stop yourself, your hand moves until your fingers brush against Vi’s on the seat between you. Just a light touch. Just enough to let her know you heard her.

Vi’s breath hitches in her throat. She doesn’t look at you—but she doesn’t move her hand away either.

The movie rolls on, the light flickering on the screen softly, and uneven shadows dance across Vi’s face. Your fingers are still there, resting lightly against hers—not quite holding her hand, but not pulling away either.

Vi hasn’t moved. Hasn’t even dared to breathe too loud.

She’s still nervous. You can feel it in the way her knee keeps bouncing, in the way her thumb twitches, like she wants so badly to close the distance and link her fingers with yours.

But she doesn’t. She stays there, still as a statue, letting you set the pace.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

She’s not watching the movie anymore—hasn’t been for a while. Her gaze is fixed on the screen, sure, but you can tell by the way her eyebrows twitch slightly, by the way her lips press into a thin line, that her head is somewhere else entirely.

She’s thinking about you. You know her too well. She’s overthinking, pulling herself apart, wondering if all of this was too much.

She thinks you might pull away any second now.

So you don’t.

You shift slightly in your seat, letting your pinky finger loop gently around hers. It’s barely anything but Vi notices immediately. Her body goes stiff for a second. Then, slowly, she moves her hand—just enough to let her pinky hook back around yours.

It’s almost nothing.

But to Vi, it’s everything.

She lets out a shaky breath, like she’s been holding it in for too long, and finally dares to look at you.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna show up today,” she admits, “After… the other night.”

You hear the words inside of your head again. I love you.

You swallow the lump in your throat and speak softly, your finger still hooked with hers.

“I told you I’d see you tomorrow,” you say.

Vi’s lips twitch once more, but there’s still a question in her eyes, like she’s waiting for you to reject her all over again.

Like she’s still afraid you’re going to run.

And maybe a part of you is still afraid too.

The movie continued to fade into the background. You shift a little, the leather seat creaking softly as you move. Your pinky was still hooked around hers, but the rest of your hand stayed still. Waiting for something from her.

It was too quiet now. Neither of you looked at each other. Vi’s chest tightened with the silence. Her fingers fidgeted where they rested against the seat as she thought about how much she wanted to say but didn’t know how. She wasn’t sure if it was too late, or if you’d even believe her if she told you how much she still loved you, how much she regretted everything that had happened between you both.

Then, the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Vi’s heart skipped a beat as soon as she said it, and she immediately regretted the rush.

“I’m leaving the record label,” she blurted out.

You stopped and turned your head to look at her.

“What?”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at you, her eyes glued to the screen ahead, even though she was barely watching. Her other hand curled into a fist over her lap. She hadn’t planned on telling you this way. She wanted to ease into it more. And she wasn’t ready for this conversation—hell, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready—but now that it was out, it was impossible to ignore.

Vi sighs, her mind racing. It had been a decision she’d been turning over for the past year, before coming back here, before seeing you again, something she’d thought about while staring at the ceiling of her hotel room, when the loneliness finally sank in. She was done with it. The constant demands, the fake smiles, the busy schedules. She was done pretending. Done with the things that had pulled her away from everything that had once mattered.

And that included you.

“It’s just… it’s not what I thought it was.” She says, voice shaking as she spoke.

Vi finally turns her head, just enough to catch a glimpse of you, though she wasn’t sure if she could hold your gaze yet.

“I’m tired of it,” she breathes.

She was tired of being someone she wasn’t sure she recognized anymore. The pressure. The distance. The mistakes. The demands. Constantly touring. Strict deadlines for recording and making music. Promotions. Events. She was tired of pretending she was fine with drowning in the endless work, tired of feeling like she was losing herself more every day, when all she ever wanted was to make music and play it with her best friends.

Her knuckles whitened, clenching her fist hard.

“I didn’t realize how much I was… letting go of until it was too late,” Vi continued, her voice dropping, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to. “I let everything else slip through my fingers. And you—”

Her throat tightened, and she cut herself off, shaking her head, her breath catching in the back of her throat.

“I was so focused on everything else, I didn’t even notice… I didn’t even notice how far I was from you.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, if anything. Maybe she was just hoping to get it out, to let you know she wasn’t the same person anymore, that she was ready to change. Ready to fight for what really mattered. For you.

“Violet,” you say softly. “You love the band…”

Vi’s smile was soft as she looked over at you. She let out a breath, shaking her head.

“I do, yeah… but…” She trailed off, her eyes flitting to the dashboard as if the answers were hiding somewhere in the worn leather seats.

“I’m not quitting the band… I don’t want to do that any time soon and I didn’t think you’d want me to do that either,” she added, running a hand through her hair. “But I’m tired of the way things are going. The stuff we have to do… It’s not fun anymore.”

She let out another deep breath, her eyes briefly meeting yours again.

“I want a place where we’re not being told what to do, where we can just… make music and play what we want,” Vi smiled a little again, more to herself than to you, as if she was starting to believe it herself. “I guess… I just need to find a label that’s willing to let us have more freedom, you know?”

“What does the band think?” you ask her. After all, they did sign to a major label—you know it won’t be smooth sailing if they quit. But a part of you also knows how popular the band is, how big they’ve gotten, how successful they are, and that if this happens, people are still going to want to listen to them anyway.

“Yeah, they’re on board,” Vi smiles.

She was scared, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Her eyes found their way back to the screen, the flashing lights of the movie scenes dancing across her face, but… she couldnt think about anything else.

“And I also… I wanna be closer to you,” Vi whispered, almost as if she wasn’t sure she even had the right to say it.

Her lips pressed together. She was nervous again.

The truth was, she didn’t know how to make you believe her. How to make you see that she wasn’t the same person who had let you go before.

That this time, she wanted you. All of you.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, “I-I mean… T-There’s a record label I’ve been looking at. I-It’s independent, and it’s just several hours away, but it’s closer than New York and Ekko and I were already thinking about setting up a studio here at home so—I-If it works out, we’ll just finish our contract and move right after… Besides—”

She’s rambling.

After a minute of talking out of her nerves, her gaze flickered toward you again, against her better judgment, and for a split second, her heart stuttered in her chest.

You looked… perfect. Beautiful. So much more than she remembered, and yet so familiar, like she was coming home.

Fuck, she thought. You look so pretty.

Vi immediately turned her head back to the screen, suddenly feeling the heat spreading across her cheeks. She wanted to look at you again, to let herself drink you in, but she was scared. It was easier to look away, to focus on the movie in front of her. But she couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every little thing about you—your laugh, you smile, the feeling of your hand against hers—was driving her crazy.

She sneaked another glance anyway, this time a little longer, though she quickly darted her eyes away again when she realized how easily her breath hitched. You weren’t even doing anything, just sitting there, your gaze soft on the screen, yet everything about you felt so magnetic to her. It was hard to ignore, harder still to pretend that she wasn’t still in love with you.

“I spent a lot of time trying to forget about you, you know.”

For a second, Vi wasn’t sure if she had heard you correctly.

But she could hear the honesty in your voice. And suddenly, she wished more than anything that she could take all of that pain away. That she could erase the hurt she had caused, make it right. She wanted to apologize, wanted to explain everything she had never said, but the words felt stuck in her throat.

You turned your head slowly, and though she couldn’t see your face clearly, she knows that tears were threatening to spill.

“I spent so long convincing myself I was okay without you,” you continued. “I told myself I was fine… and for a while, I believed it. I really did.”

Vi’s heart twisted painfully as you spoke. It was hard to hear, but at the same time, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“But no matter how much I tried to push it all down, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Sometimes, I wondered if we could ever go back to the way we were.”

You turned your head away, trying to hide the tears that found their way down your cheeks.

“I figured you’d forget about me too… that you were out there living your dream already… and that you didnt need me anymore.”

“You’re wrong.”

Vi’s heart raced as she quickly scooted closer to you, the long seat in her truck creaking slightly, like she couldn’t wait another second to close the distance between you.

Her hand hovered over yours for a split second, then laced her fingers with yours. She pulled your hand into her lap, her hands big, warm and rough—the same way they’ve always felt before. Vi stared down at your intertwined hands, her thumb tracing the soft curve of your knuckles, over and over again, as though she was trying to memorize the feeling of your skin. She couldn’t look at you just yet; her gaze was fixed on your joined hands, touching you, holding you.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated, her words spilling out, desperate for you to hear her, to believe her. “I never stopped needing you. Never stopped wanting you.”

She swallowed hard, shaking her head.

“I thought about you every day,” she whispered.

Vi didn’t look at you as she spoke—her eyes still fixed on your hands, her thumb continuing to trace small circles over your skin.

“I thought about all the things I’d do right the next time… if I got the chance. All the ways I’d be better for you.”

Her fingers tightened just slightly around yours, pulling you a little closer. Her side was pressed against yours, but even then, she wanted to be closer.

“I also wondered if you found someone else. Someone who’d be there for you the way I wasn’t,” she said, smiling sadly at the thought. “It’s been three years since I saw you so… I don’t know. That’s a long time and I…”

Always thought it was too late.

Her head dropped, chin tilting slightly downward, as she let out a shaky breath, trying to keep herself from falling apart. There was so much regret, so much pain for the time she had wasted, for the distance that had grown between the two of you.

“When I saw you at the wedding… All the bullshit I’ve been running through my head, all the walls I’ve put up… they just… disappeared,” she said, eyes shifting to meet yours for just a moment. “And all I could think was, ‘I’ve wasted so much time. I’ve been so stupid.’”

Her breath was shallow, unsteady, as she ran her thumb back and forth over your skin. She wanted to make you feel safe, wanted you to feel the sincerity in her touch, the way she wanted to be close to you.

“You deserve more than… than everything I gave you,” Vi sniffles quietly. “I wasn’t ready then, but I’m ready now.”

She squeezed your hand slightly, to reassure herself that you were here, that you hadn’t let go, that you were still holding onto her.

Her thumb continued its slow path over your knuckles.

“You’re my dream, too.”

Her chest feels tight as she says it.

“And if you don’t want this with me… that’s okay,” Vi says softly, though her voice cracks at the end.

She stares straight ahead, at the flickering lights of the drive-in screen now, though she’s still not really watching the movie.

“I just… I want you to know it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want. If being close to me again—if it hurts too much… then I get it. I swear, I do.”

Vi’s grip on your hand loosens, hesitant, like she’s preparing herself to let go. Her heart is racing, her stomach twisting. She’s trying to be strong, to give you space, but the truth is, the thought of losing you again—this time for good—is tearing her apart piece by piece.

“I want to be happy… and if you think you can’t be that with me, I’ll understand.”

And finally, Vi turns her head just enough to look at you, her eyes glassy. But she doesn’t push. She doesn’t beg.

She waits.

Tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them.

It hurts. God, it hurts.

Without thinking, you move closer and lean your head against Vi’s shoulder, tucking your face near the curve of her neck. You feel her go still beneath you, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe, as if one wrong move might br the reason you pull away from her again.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble against her neck, your voice breaking somewhere in the middle.

And then the tears come harder. Your shoulders tremble, and you try to keep it together, but it’s useless.

Vi’s heart is pounding—you can feel it beneath the fabric of her t-shirt. She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t shift or fidget. She doesn’t want to. She just stays frozen, her fingers still loosely laced with yours in her lap, her thumb still now, resting against your knuckles like she’s forgotten how to do anything but sit there and let herself feel you this close.

She stares straight ahead at the drive-in screen, but it only blurred in her vision. All she can think about is you. Your head against her shoulder. The brush of your hair against her neck. The way your arm grazes hers, how your hand is still in hers, even as your shoulders tremble with silent tears.

Vi closes her hand a little more firmly around yours. Your soft, broken sobs are barely more than a whisper against her shoulder, but to her, they’re louder than the movie, louder than her own heart pounding in her chest.

Slowly, her gaze drifts down to your tangled hand resting in her lap, to the way your knuckles look small in her rough, calloused palm.

She remembers how many times she’s held your hand like this before—when you were both younger, when things were simpler. She remembers pulling you through the halls in school, in her house, on dates, lacing your fingers together on long drives with the windows down, slipping her hand into yours just because she could—because back then, she didn’t have to wonder if you’d let her.

Her thumb brushes over your knuckles again before she squeezes your hand softly. And then, hesitantly, Vi lifts your hand from her lap, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she brings it closer. Her lips graze the back of your hand as she kisses you there, just barely. Her mouth stays for a moment longer than it should, her breath warm against your skin, and when she finally pulls away, her hand still holds yours, cradling it carefully like its something she’s scared of breaking.

“Violet,” you whisper again.

Vi’s head snaps up instantly in a panic, worried you’ll pull away from her soon.

But you don’t.

You’re still there, still leaning into her, your face close enough that she can see the faint trail of tears drying on your cheeks, the way your lips tremble, the way your eyes are focused on her, and only her.

“Yeah?” She breathes.

You don’t say anything right away.

But carefully, you let your other hand move upwards, your fingertips brush along her jaw, so softly, and Vi swears she forgets how to breathe. Her skin is warm beneath your hand as your thumb gently ghosts over the scar that cuts through her the tattoo on her cheek—the one that spells out her name. She leans into it instinctively, like she’s starved for the feeling of you, like she’s afraid this might be the last time you’ll ever touch her like this.

Her eyes flutter shut for just a second before they open again, and now she’s not staring at the screen or at your hands.

She’s staring at you.

Vi’s breath hitches. Her eyes fall shut for a moment, the feeling of your soft skin against hers comforting her in a way she hasn’t felt in years.

“I think I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” you say.

Vi feels the walls she’s been building around herself start to crack, just a little. She’s so close to breaking, but she’s scared. Scared of what this means, scared of how much she still needs you, how much she’s missed you.

You continue, quietly. Nervously. “I panicked because I… I was scared of repeating the same things that happened in the past… I was scared of wanting more with you… not knowing if anything would actually change.”

She opens her eyes, her gaze darting over to yours immediately. And she could lose you again, she knows that. But what scares her most is that she’s not sure she’s strong enough to let you go, even if she wanted to.

“I don’t want you to be scared,” she whispers, almost desperately. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re scared anymore. I just…”

Her voice cracks as she continues.

“This… This is the one thing I wanna get right.”

Vi can see the shimmer of your tears in the faint glow from the screen, and it makes chest ache.

“I will get it right,” she promises.

Her eyes search yours, trying desperately to figure out what you’re thinking.

But soon, you’re crying again.

Vi watches helplessly as tears begin to fall again. The sight makes her feel like she’s breaking all over again. She feels her own eyes welling up, but she blinks back the tears, trying to hold it together, trying to be strong for you. Her eyes trace your face, and her hand still tangled with yours, thumb brushing gentle circles against your skin. Her heart is pounding so loudly she’s sure you can hear it, but she doesn’t say a word. She’s too scared. Scared that this might be the moment you pull away from her all over again—that despite everything she’s said, you’ll decide it’s too late, that she’s too late.

But then, in a voice so soft that Vi barely hears, you mutter quietly.

“Okay.”

Vi freezes. Her mind stumbles over the word, running it back over and over again like she misheard it, like it couldn’t possibly mean what she thinks it does. Did you mean it? Did you really mean it?

She blinks down at you, your tear-streaked face still pressed to her shoulder, and she feels like her heart just forgot how to beat.

And then, like the air’s been knocked out of her, she sighs. She couldn’t believe it.

“Okay?” she echoes softly.

“Okay,” you nod against her, sniffling softly. “I think… we should take it slow, at least—”

It feels like the air has been knocked out of Vi’s lungs. She’s still staring at you, eyes wide, like she can’t fully process what you just said.

“Wait, wait—” She swallows hard. “You… you mean it?”

You lift your head just enough to look at her, and the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes almost undoes her entirely.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding your head.

Holy shit. Vi stares at you. It doesn’t feel real.

The word echoes in her head, over and over, her brain still trying to convince itself that you really said it. That you really meant it. Her chest feels tight, and for a second, she wonders if she’s forgotten how to breathe.

And yet, Vi doesn’t move. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t speak.

Honestly, a part of her is still bracing for you to take it back like this is just a dream she’s about to wake up from, or a cruel joke the universe decided to play on her—that any second now, you’ll realize you made a mistake, pull your hand away, and tell her you can’t do this.

But you don’t.

You sniffle instead, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand before tilting your head slightly to look at her. Vi is still frozen, staring at you like you just spoke in another language.

A slow, bittersweet smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Vi…?”

Vi blinks rapidly, mouth opening slightly, but no words come out and—shit.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes still glossy, still searching her face, and Vi swears she’s about to pass out because fuck, you’re beautiful. Even after all that crying, the way you’re looking at her, like you’re really seeing her for the first time in years, like she’s something worth looking at—

Vi feels her entire body go up in flames.

She’s red.

Like, really red—cheeks burning, ears practically glowing, and the moment your eyes meet, she panics. Her face heats up so fucking fast she’s sure she’s about to combust, the tips of her ears burning, and before she can stop herself, her forehead drops against your shoulder in pure mortification, and she groans.

“Fuck,” she mutters, muffled against your jacket. “I—just—gimme a second.”

She can feel you shaking slightly, and for a second, she thinks you’re crying again, but—it’s the quietest little laugh that falls past your lips and into her ears.

And despite the fact that she’d do anything and more to make you laugh forever, out of pure embarrassment, she groans quietly, “Don’t laugh at me.”

You sniff again. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

And you don’t say anything else after that. Neither does Vi.

She just stays there, forehead resting against your shoulder, breathing slow. Her fingers are still tangled with yours, her thumb absently running along your knuckles like she needs the reassurance that you’re still here with her. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, she moves her face closer—nuzzling in closer, her nose brushing the curve of your neck. You feel her breathe you in, sighing softly against your skin.

She smells like cigarettes and the faded remnants of whatever cologne she’s been using since she’s got back home, but underneath all of that… she smells they same as she did before. She smelled like thr girl who used to hold your hand and kiss you under the bleachers after school, who used to sneak through your bedroom window at midnight just to fall asleep beside you. The girl who kissed you like she meant it every single day. The girl you thought you lost.

You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking against the sting behind your eyes, and Vi must’ve noticed—must’ve felt the way your breath hitches because her grip on your hand tightens just slightly.

She lifts her head carefully a moment later, afraid to pull away and when she finally does, her face is close. And maybe it’s because she had already scooted over on the bench seat earlier, maybe it’s because the space between you has been shrinking all night, but suddenly, she’s no longer in front of the steering wheel—she’s right there, so close that her jeans are brushing against your legs, so close that you can feel the warmth of her body against your side, boxing you in against the truck door.

You don’t know if she planned it, if she even realized what she was doing, or if her body just naturally moved toward you the way it always used to. But she’s so close now.

And she’s looking right at you, like she’s trying to memorize every inch of your face—like she’s scared you’ll slip through her fingers if she so much as blinks.

Her eyes drop to your lips, just for a second.

Then back up, meeting your gaze.

Vi searches your face, her thumb absently brushing over the back of your hand.

“Are you sure about this?” Her voice is barely above a whisper now. “Because if you’re not, if you need time, I—I’ll wait. I swear, I’ll—”

“Vi.”

She shuts up instantly.

And then, she just looks at you. You’re so fucking pretty, it’s practically driving her insane.

Her eyes keep dropping to your lips, no matter how hard she tries not to. Soft. She knows how they feel, knows the way they move against hers, the way they part just slightly when you sigh into a kiss. She’s addicted to it, the memory of it burned into her mind, something she’s thought about every time she’d think about you.

And now you’re here, looking at her like that, so close, your breath warm against her cheek, and Vi is losing her goddamn mind trying to hold herself back.

Her fingers twitch against yours, grip tightening for just a second before she forces herself to loosen it.

You exhale softly, and Vi feels it against her lips.

She doesn’t even realize she’s leaned in this close until she sees the way your lashes flutter, the way your breath hitches just slightly. Her grip on your hand tightens again.

Fuck… Should she ask? Is she allowed to ask? Well… Its too late now, becuase her mouth is moving even before she could even think.

“Does… taking it slow… mean that I can’t kiss you right now?” Vi asks quietly.

She watches you, searching, waiting for any sign of hesitation, of doubt on your face that might tell her to back off.

But you don’t pull away.

You just look at her, eyes soft, lips parted, so heartbreakingly close that Vi swears she can feel your warmth pulling her in like a moth to a flame.

She’s drowning in it.

And she wants to kiss you so badly it hurts.

You don’t say anything right away. She watches your eyes, how they linger on her mouth for a beat too long. It sends a shiver down her spine, a spark of hope that she tries to smother, but you’re already under her skin.

“I…” you trail off.

Fuck. Maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you’re not ready—maybe she’s already ruined this before it even started. Maybe—

Your free hand moves. Just barely. Fingers brushing against her knee.

It’s the lightest touch, but Vi feels it anyway. You’re looking at her like you’re thinking, like you’re considering it. And she’s desperate, holding her breath, waiting for anything—any sign that it’s okay to close the distance between you, to let her feel those warm, delicious lips of yours against hers.

“I didn’t say that,” you whisper, heat spreading across your cheeks.

But that’s all it takes for Vi to lean in, forehead brushing against yours first, slowly, like she’s giving you one last chance to pull away. You don’t. You stay, your eyes half-lidded, waiting. She leans in slowly, so slowly it’s almost agonizing. Then, her nose nudges softly against yours, the faintest graze of skin on skin, and she shivers. She can feel the warmth of your breath, smell the faint trace of your perfume, fingers lace tighter with yours. Her other hand lifts, trembling just slightly as she cups your cheek, her thumb grazing over your tear stained skin.

You feel her lips brush against yours. Gentle. And careful. Giving you every opportunity to change your mind.

Still, you don’t.

You lean into it, soft and sweet, your hand tugging around the front of her jacket. She kisses you slowly, savoring the warmth of your mouth, the way you taste, the way your lips part just enough for her to deepen it.

And for the first time in years, Vi doesn’t feel lost. She doesn’t feel empty.

She can’t breathe. She doesn’t want to breathe.

She just feels you.

All she wants is you.

The second your lips move against hers, Vi completely melts into you, helpless against that need that’s always been there. Her thumb smooths over your cheek, hand moving down to pull you closer by your neck, the other still clinging to yours, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. She kisses you as if she’s afraid she’ll never get to again.

There’s no hesitation now. No fear. Just you. Every sensation sinks into her, overwhelming and intoxicating.

She tilts her head, chasing more. The kiss gets desperate, messy, and Vi doesn’t care. She’s starved for this… for you. You sigh softly against her mouth, and Vi feels it everywhere. It makes her kiss you deeper, hungrier, like she could devour every sound you make. She tugs you closer, her body instinctively leaning into yours. The truck’s old leather seat creaks beneath you, but neither of you pay it any mind.

God, she’d kiss you forever if you’d let her.

She’s always been like this—hopelessly addicted to the way you fit against her, the way you always responded to her touch. Her thumb brushes over your cheek again, and Vi can feel the warmth of your skin beneath her calloused fingers, the slight dampness of the tears you’d cried moments ago. It only makes her hold you tighter, to keep you closer, thinking about never ever letting you go again—doesn’t even give it a second thought.

You pull away first, your breathing ragged, soft as you try to catch your breath. Vi’s eyes stay closed for a moment, like she’s trying to hold on to the feeling, imagining what your lips feel like even though you’re just right there, mere centimeters away from her.

When she finally opens them, she looks completely dazed. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted, still tinged with the lingering heat of yours. She looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

And maybe, to her, you are.

It takes her a second to realize how close she’s gotten. Her arm is resting along the back of the seat, her body practically caging you in. You’re pressed up against the cool leather of the truck door, your legs tangled with hers, her hand still clutching your, afraid to let go.

Vi blinks, then quickly leans back, her cheeks burning. “Shit, sorry.”

She doesn’t go far. She couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hand stays in yours, her thumb absently tracing over your knuckles, but she forces herself to give you some room. Barely.

“Didn’t mean to…” She trails off, shaking her head with a huff of a laugh.

You don’t say anything yet, your chest still rising and falling as you catch your breath. Vi can’t help but stare at the flush dusting over your cheeks, at your slightly swollen lips.

She wants to kiss you again. God, she wants to kiss you a thousand times over.

But somehow, she finds the strength to stay put.

“I didn’t mind,” you say softly.

Vi’s heart stutters. She swears it stops entirely.

You’re so beautiful. More than beautiful. And she’s pretty sure she could stare at you like this forever.

Vi tears her gaze away from you, her eyes drifting toward the glowing screen past the window. Her breath hitches, a shaky sigh falling from her lips. Barely a second later, her eyes move again, looking down at your intertwined hands resting on her lap. Her thumb brushes over your skin slowly.

She knows what’s coming, and she’s terrified of how it’ll feel, how you’ll react… if you’ll pull away from her again, like you did before.

But she can’t stop herself from saying it.

Slowly, Vi lifts your hand to her lips, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the back of it all over again. When she pulls away, her eyes meet yours. And before you can speak, before the words even leave your mouth, Vi swallows hard, and opens her mouth.

“I love you,” she whispers.

You don’t respond immediately, but she isn’t expecting you to. But she needs you to know. She needs you to hear it. She looks down again, her grip tightening around your hand, and her voice cracks slightly when she continues.

“Y-You don’t have to say it back… I just… I wanna remind you that I do… and I always will.”

Vi’s heart is pounding in her chest, and she looks away again, unable to hold your gaze any longer. Her eyes fall to your hands once more, still clasped together in her lap, tracing the lines of your hand with her fingers, her thumb lightly brushing the back of your palm. It’s automatic, almost like her body knows how to do it without thinking.

She thought she was prepared for this, for the possibility that you might not be ready to say it back. How could she expect you to feel the same way, right this second, after years of not being there for you—with you?

She smiles weakly, more to herself than anything.

And yet, it’s hard to ignore. She loves you, so deeply. And the thought of not having you in her life again—it’s unbearable. She’s willing to do whatever it takes.

Her eyes stay locked on your hand in hers, still unable to look up at your face, scared that she might see something she doesn’t want to. Maybe you’ll change your mind about her. Maybe you’ll tell her that this can’t happen again—that this shouldn’t happen again… Maybe, you don’t love her as much as you used to… Maybe—

“I love you.”

Wait, did she say that? Vi blinks, her heart skipping a beat. The words echo in her mind, like she’s misheard them—like they can’t possibly be real. It takes her a moment to register that it wasn’t her voice that said it. It was yours.

Her eyes lift slowly, hesitantly. But when she finally looks at you, she sees the truth written all over your face. The way you’re biting your lip, the way your gaze moves away from her, your cheeks flushed. You’re nervous.

“I…” She can’t find the words.

And then, so softly, you speak again.

“That part’s never changed, Vi.”

She can’t tear her eyes away. She studies every inch of your face, trying to convince herself it’s real.

Because you said that you love her.

The lump in her throat grows, and for a second, she’s sure she’s going to cry. She wants to say something, to respond, but all that comes out is a shaky breath.

“God,” Vi whispers, barely able to get the word out. “You—”

She shakes her head, her lips parting as if to try again, but nothing comes. And then she’s smiling. It’s small at first, soft and disbelieving, like she can’t believe how lucky she is.

“I thought I’d never hear you say that again,” she finally says.

Vi feels the sting in her eyes, the tears threatening to spill. She hates it. Hates how overwhelmed she feels, how her chest feels tight, like her heart’s too full, and for a second, it’s all too much.

She tips her head back, resting it against the worn leather of the truck’s seat. The ceiling stares back at her, cracked in places from the years that passed. Her throat works around a shaky breath, and then she sighs.

“Fuck.”

It slips out before she can stop it, the word practically laced with everything she couldn’t put into words, knowing how badly she’s wanted this, how afraid she still is that it could be gone agin. She feels you move slightly beside her, your hand still tucked firmly in hers. But Vi can’t bring herself to look at you just yet. If she does, she knows she won’t be able to hide the way her eyes are glossing over. She’s always wanted to look brave and tough around you… but, it’s getting harder and harder to hide with each second that passes.

She bites her lip, forcing down the sob that threatens to crawl up her throat.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, though she’s not even sure what she’s apologizing for.

Your thumb brushes lightly against her hand, and it’s enough to make shut her eyes tight, like she can will the tears away. But it doesn’t work. One slips free, trailing hot down her cheek anyway…

Vi barely makes a sound. She just sits there, head tilted back against the seat, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths. The tears slip down her face but she doesn’t even bother wiping them away.

She sniffles softly, her jaw clenched as another tear slips past her lashes. God, she hates crying. She hates how vulnerable it makes her feel. But with you, it’s different. She feels warm with you.

Vi finally brings a hand up, swiping roughly at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. It doesn’t do much. But when she drops her arm and finally dares to glance at you, there’s nothing but softness in your eyes.

“Sorry,” she whispers again, cracking at the end, betraying just how much she’s holding back.

But you just shake your head, squeezing her hand. “Don’t.”

She sighs in response, her chest rising and falling as she tries to keep it together. Her thumb continues to trace slow, absentminded circles against your skin, and suddenly, the truck feels too small.

You don’t rush her. You never have.

Vi doesn’t say anything at first. She can’t remember the last time she felt this bare. It’s terrifying. But with you, it’s also… safe.

She lowers her head, her forehead brushing against your shoulder again. For a moment, neither of you move. The sound of the movie in the background drifts through the truck’s open windows, but neither of you are paying attention.

“I missed you,” she whispers against your shoulder. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply just as softly.

Vi squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to say more. She wants to tell you how every city, every stage, every goddamn after party felt hollow without you. How she’d check her phone after every show, hoping for a text that never came. How she’d lie awake in hotel rooms, thinking about you, about being with you, about how much she missed you, about how much she wanted to turn back the time and do everything differently.

But instead, she just presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, her lips trembling against the soft fabric of your shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers again. “For everything.”

“I know,” you say. “Me too.”

Her eyes search yours, her brows furrowing like she can’t believe what she just heard.

She shakes her head, “Why are you sorry? You don’t have to—”

“I could’ve tried harder too, Vi.”

Your voice trembles, as Vi stares at you. She looks like she wants to argue, to tell you that none of this was your fault. That she’s the one who let you down. That she’s the one who made you feel like an afterthought while she chased a dream that didn’t feel half as good without you in it.

But you keep going.

“I could’ve said more. I could’ve told you how much it hurt when you didn’t call back, how lonely it was waiting for you to come home,” you whisper. “But I didn’t. I just… I convinced myself it was easier to pretend I was fine. To act like I didn’t care as much as I did… I assumed that you had bigger things to worry about than me… and I got scared to tell you. I-I should’ve told you—“

“You don’t have to apologize,” Vi cuts in. “I’m the one who made you feel that way and—”

“Vi,” you interrupt softly, your thumb brushing over her hand. “You don’t have to take all the blame… It wasn’t just you… It was me, too. I let myself think that I was the one who had to adjust, to accept whatever you gave me. I pushed away my own feelings so I could make sense of the distance… and I left when all I wanted was to be close to you.”

She stares at you, chest heavy with guilt, but she’s not interrupting now. She’s listening—really listening.

“I just wanted to matter to you,” you muttered.

Her eyes soften, her lips trembling, “You do matter to me. You’ve always mattered.”

Vi pauses, her gaze always seems to fall to your hands, the way her fingers are wrapped around yours.

“I was stupid… and selfish back then. I didn’t realize how much you needed me—how much I needed you.” She reaches up to gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I never stopped thinking about you. Even when I was out there… none of it was ever as important as you. Not even close… And I’ll keep showing you. Everyday. Until you’re sure… And even after that, I’ll keep showing you anyway.”

After a quiet pause, Vi watches you, her heart beating fast as you shake your head, that small, tired smile tugging at your lips. And then, without a second thought, you lean into her, your head finding its place on her shoulder all over again.

“I already said okay,” you say softly, muffled slightly against her jacket, tears threatening to spill again.

Vi lets out a shaky breath, the corner of her mouth twitching into the smallest smile.

“I know,” she smiles.

Her eyes dart down again, catching the sight of your hands resting in her lap, smilimg at the way your fingers fit so easily with hers.

Truthfully, she wants to say more. Tell you how much she loves you. How sorry she still is. How she’s going to spend the rest of her life making sure she never breaks your heart again.

But all she does is run the pad of the thumb along your knuckles as she dips her head just slightly, brushing her lips against the crown of your hair. The smell of your shampoo is sweet and soft, and Vi only holds on to your hands tighter, determined to be the best version of herself that you deserve.

It’s quiet now. You both stay like that for a while. And all Vi can focus on is the feeling of you beside her.

“Thank you,” she says after a while, you almost didn’t hear it.

For giving her a chance she wasn’t sure she deserved.

Vi drives back into town when the movie ends. And in truth, she wished the movie lasted forever if it meant being able to sit beside you like that for the rest of the night.

The ride back was quiet… but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Every so often, Vi’s knuckles would brush against yours on the bench seat, the way they used to when she’d drive you around town. And every time it happened, she’d swallow that lump in her though and grip the steering wheel a little tighter, afraid to push her luck.

She brought you to that same old pizza place near the edge of town—the one you two used to hit up on late nights like these—Vi had pulled over without thinking. It was late and, in her mind, it wouldn’t be a proper date if she didn’t take you to get food.

“Still open,” she’d said, half-relieved, half-nervous. “You feel like splitting a pizza?”

You nodded when she asked.

And now, with the lingering scent of melted cheese and warm dough filling the truck, you both sit parked in the lot. The pizza box is cracked open between you, the last couple of slices mostly forgotten. Vi’s trying not to make it obvious, but she’s been eating slow. Suspiciously slow. Every bite takes twice as long as it probably should—not because she’s savoring it, but because she’s trying to stretch the her time with you, desperate for it not to end.

She glances at you for what must be the hundredth time. You seemed relaxed enough, though maybe a little bit tired, soft light from the streetlamp beside her truck glowing slightly on your face. Vi thinks you’re beautiful like this. She always has. But now that you’re here, it’s all she can do not to stare.

���Pizza’s still good,” she tries, something to fill the silence. “Tastes the same.”

You hum in agreement, chewing thoughtfully. “I think they changed the sauce a little.”

Vi blinks, looking back at her half-eaten slice. “Really?”

You shrug. “Just a little sweeter. Or maybe I’m imagining it.”

A beat passes. Vi’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Still better than that place in New York.”

You laugh softly, and god, the sound of it has Vi’s stomach doing flips.

“That place was awful,” you agree. “Why’d we even go there?”

“Because I swore it’d be authentic.” Vi chuckles, as she throws in finger quotes. “I think I hyped it up for, like, a week.”

“Well, I think it’s impressive that you found a bad pizza place in New York,” you tease.

Vi huffs a laugh, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. “Never living that one down, huh?”

You shake your head softly.

It gets quiet again. Vi risks another glance your way, only to find you already looking at her. She quickly looks down, her fingers fidgeting with a stray napkin in her lap.

“I, uh… I could take the long way back,” she offers, trying to sound casual. “If you’re not in a rush.”

You hesitate for just a moment bedore shaking your head. “I-It’s late. I should probably get home.”

Vi nods quickly, forcing a smile. “Right. Yeah, of course.”

The words are easy enough to say, but they taste bitter. She doesn’t want this night to end. Not when things feel… good. Almost like before.

Still, she doesn’t argue.

It’s a silent ride on the way back to your apartment. Vi’s fingers drum softly against the steering wheel, her other hand gripping it a little too tightly. Occasionally, she sneaks a glance at you, but you’re gazing out the window, lost in your own thoughts.

She likes it better than nothing.

After all, it wasn’t too long ago when silence meant something worse.

But now you’re here. Right next to her. And even though her heart aches a little from how much she still wants, Vi wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Her truck rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building. She lingers for a moment, trying to think of something clever or easy to say, but...

You beat her to it. “Thanks for the ride.”

Vi swallows. “Yeah. Anytime.”

You reach for the door handle, but her voice stops you.

“I’ll walk you up.” It comes out quickly, afraid you might say no if she hesitates.

You blink, surprised. “Vi, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Her eyes soften as they meet yours, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

It takes a second, but then you nod.

Vi’s out of the truck before she can second guess herself. She jogs around to your side, and even though you’re perfectly capable, she still opens the door for you, just like she used to. She doesn’t say anything about it, and neither do you. But the corner of your mouth twitches, and Vi catches it.

The building is quiet as you both step inside. You lead the way to the elevator, Vi trailing just half a step behind. It’s strange, how familiar this all feels. She knew this place so well now—the smell of some faint lemon cleaner, the creak of the old elevator doors, even the way the number buttons lit up. She’d spent countless nights walking these same halls, on her way up to see you… to kiss you… to make love to you—well… that’s what she always thought of it… And, even the same as before, it feels like she’s holding her breath with every step.

The elevator ride is short, but the silence makes it feel longer, really. Vi shifts on her feet, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets as she sneaks another glance at you, catching the way your teeth tug at your bottom lip—a habit she knows all too well. You’re nervous.

She wants to say something. Something to make you feel at ease… comfortable… to make you smile, maybe. But her throat feels tight, and by the time she thinks of anything, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

You make your way down the hall, and Vi follows closely. She can’t help but notice how her palms are starting to sweat. Fuck, it’s so ridiculous.

Eventually, you stop in front of your door. For a moment, neither of you speak. You pull your keys from your bag, fidgeting with them, and Vi watches you turn.

“Thank you for tonight, Vi,” you say softly. “And the drive-in… It was really nice.”

“Y-Yeah.” She nods, then rubs the back of her neck. “Of course.”

“Really,” You smile, though it’s small. “I had a really good time.”

“I’m glad,” Vi returns your smile, feeling a bit proud. “We, uh… should go again some time… I mean, i-if there’s another movie you wanna watch, I could… I could figure out something.”

And then it’s quiet again. She almost hates it. Because she knows this is where you’re supposed to say goodnight. She’s supposed to turn around, head back to her truck, and let the night end.

But god, she doesn’t want to.

Vi’s voice is softer when she speaks next. “Can I see you again soon?”

Your fingers tighten around your keys, but you don’t look away.

“Yeah,” you say simply, unable to fight the way your lips curved upwards. “Soon.”

She nods, and despite the nerves eating away at her, she smiles. “Okay.”

And just when she’s about to take a step back, to let you go, you surprise her.

It’s soft. And gentle. And before she can even think, you lean in, just enough for your lips to brush her cheek. It’s quick, barely there, but Vi freezes. Her eyes widen slightly, heat rushing to her face. You pull back and turn around, your own cheeks warm, too nervous to look at her again. Vi stands there, staring at you like a complete idiot. Her fingertips brush over the spot where your lips had been, and she can still feel the ghost of it.

And although you don’t see it, a grin slowly spreads across her face.

Your fingers barely brush against the keys in the lock before you hear Vi sigh behind you, like she’s been holding her breath. And before you can turn the key, her hands are on yours. And now, it’s your turn to freeze. Her palms against your skin is nothing but warm as she pulls you away from the door. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just turns you toward her, slowly and carefully.

Her thumbs brushing over your knuckles and you don’t meet her eyes right away. But you feel her looking at you, staring hard. And when you finally lift your head, her gaze meets yours immediately.

“I…” Vi starts, but the words disappear in her throat.

She opens her mouth again, then closes it, clenching her jaw—maybe in frustration.

And then she tries again.

“I didn’t want to leave without—” Vi pauses, her brows knitting together. “I mean… I know I should, but…”

Her voice drops, trembling only slightly as she looks down at your hands.

“I don’t want to… just yet.”

She’s so close. Close enough that the scent of her—smoke and some of her cologne—is all you can focus on.

“Vi…” you whisper, her name barely leaving your lips.

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, her grip on your hands tightening just a little. “I just—”

She stops, exhaling sharply like she’s frustrated with herself again. Her hands twitch, and for a moment, you think she’s about to let go, but she doesn’t.

“I missed you,” she says softly.

“I missed you too, Vi,” you admit.

Deep in her mind, she feels like this isn’t real… that she’s dreaming and that she’ll wake up soon. Fuck, please…

“I… I really wanna kiss you again, ” She whispers, stepping closer. “Can I?”

You don’t answer right away. Not because you don’t know, but because you feel a little overwhelmed… in a good way, really. Vi waits, her breath warm against your skin, her hands still cradling yours.

And with the softest nod, you give her the answer she’s been waiting for.

Vi doesn’t waste a second. She leans in, her lips brushing against yours so gently and when you kiss her back, just as softly—she fucking melts.

A shaky breath falls past her lips, hands tightening around your own as she kisses you like she’s memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again. And god, she’s so close. Her forehead brushes against yours, and her breath mingles with yours. You can feel the cool metal of her nose ring brush against the side of your nostrol as she pulls you in closer. And as your fingers trail up, your hands finding their way to her neck, Vi feels herself lean in even closer. You cup the strong curve of her jaw, your thumbs brushing along the sharp line of it, and the touch sends a shiver down her spine.

Vi kisses you deeper. Her big hands, rough and calloused, move carefully from your hands, sliding down to your waist. Her fingers curl against your sides and the way you tilt your head, the way your body instinctively presses just a little closer, makes her feel dizzy. She can’t stop the soft groan, that desperate little noise muffled by your lips. And your fingers thread gently into the hair at the nape of her neck.

She’s not sure how long you stay like that, and even as her lungs beg for air, Vi doesn’t want to stop.

But eventually, she pulls away slowly, her forehead lingering against yours as she tries to catch her breath. Her chest rises and falls, lips still parted, tingling from the kiss—from you.

She blinks, trying to set her mind straight, but it’s impossible when you’re so close.

Her thumb brushes absently over your waist where her hands still rest, rough fingertips trailing the hem of your shirt. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, like touching you is second nature, a habit she never really broke. She doesn’t want to stop touching you. She doesn’t think she could if she tried.

But then she lifts her head just enough to meet your eyes, and whatever she was about to say dies in her throat. You’re staring at her, cheeks flushed, lips parted like you’re just as overwhelmed as she is.

Fuck, you look so pretty.

“I…” She starts, but the rest of her words never make it out. She shakes her head slightly, letting out a breathless laugh. “I didn’t mean to…”

Get carried away? But that’s a lie. She did mean to. She’s been thinking about kissing you like this again since you left the drive-in.

Her hand tightens just slightly against your waist as she opens her mouth again, “I-I mean… I did mean to. I just—Fuck, sorry—I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

She searches your face briefly, desperate for any sign that she hasn’t just ruined everything. When she catches the faintest smile tugging at the corner of your lips, her heart trips over itself.

“You okay?” She asks softly.

You don’t answer right away, but you don’t pull away either. Vi can still feel your hands on her neck, your fingertips brushing against the strands of her pink hair. She swears she could stand here forever if you let her—just holding you, breathing you in, memorizing the way you feel pressed against her.

“I’m okay,” you finally whisper so softly.

Relief washes over the girl in front of you. Her lips twitch, almost forming into a smile.

“Good,” she breathes, her hands lingering at your waist. “That’s good.”

And it’s quiet again… but this time, Vi doesn’t mind it. Her eyes flicker down to your lips without meaning to, and her fingers flex slightly against your waist. She doesn’t really know how the hell she’s supposed to walk away from this now—from you.

But she knows she should. She already kissed you multiple times tonight, and it was more than she ever thought she’d get. She can’t push her luck.

“I should… probably let you get inside,” Vi says, although it’s clear even she doesn’t believe it. Her grip loosens just enough, her hands still hovering close to your hips. “It’s late.”

You nod shyly, barely meeting her eyes. “Yeah,” you reply, but you don’t sound all that sure either.

Vi forces herself to move, her hands dropping to her sides even though every nerve in her body screams to stay. She takes a step back, putting some space between the two of you that she instantly hates. She shifts on her feet, awkward now, her heart still beating a mile a minute.

“Goodnight,” you say.

Vi nods quickly.

“Night.” Her voice cracks slightly, and she winces. “Uh… goodnight. Sleep good. I mean, well. Sleep well.”

“Thank you, Vi,” you say again.

“Mhm.”

You smile, small but amused, and Vi thinks she might just die right there on your doorstep.

Her cheeks are burning. She can feel the heat crawling up the sides of her neck to the tips of her ears. She’s pretty sure her cheeks are just as red, and hell, she probably looks like a mess, but she doesn’t dare cover her face. Not when you’re still standing there.

She watches as you turn toward the door, your keys jingling softly in your hand.

You glance back at her one last time, eyes falling to her neck where her skin meets that tiny glint of her silver necklace—a peice of jewelry you know all too well—and then you’re gone, the door clicking shut behind you.

Vi lets out a long breath, dragging a hand down her face.

“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself.

She doesn’t exactly know how long she stands there, staring at your front door. To some stranger, she might look like some creep standing in front of some random apartment, but all she can think about in her head is replaying the way your lips felt against hers, the taste of your mouth, your hands on her neck, how soft you felt under her fingertips—she misses all of it.

But eventually, she turns, heading down the hallway, her hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets.

And even though she’d wanted nothing more than to stay,to press her forehead against yours and ask for just one more kiss, one more minute, Vi couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but grateful.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t drive away from your apartment feeling empty.

God. She is so screwed.

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[holorform2009]

קlคא

A/n: Here is the chapter that you guys have been waiting for! Eat up everyone!

You remember it clearly in your mind. The man you called friend named Mafiaso give you his fedora hat. And even remembered his four other friends though you're confused why they called him boss, when you asked him why they called him that he only replied "don' think too much 'bout it, lil' bunny." He chuckled.

Let's not forget the part where Mafiaso scolded the four of them for making you cry, how did he know? Well, he heard a loud wail that awfully sounds like the kid he saw a few minutes ago. So he went after the source, leaving Chance behind who is dead by the way. And only to find you laughing, laughing because one of his henchmen is getting beaten up by the other three. However, he notices your eyes were red from your crying earlier. And that made him mad— erm. I mean disappointed.

Right now, you're in your room looking at the hat in your hands. The round has ended a minute ago. Also, you were relieved that you weren't transported to the game this time.

Meaning you can take a rest while the others are suffering.

KNOCK KNOCK

"Oh– You can come in." When the door opened, you were met with the same man who pointed their gun at your friend. "Oh it's you! Hello" He flicked his hat as he smiles at you. "Hey kiddo, just came here to check on ya" He gets inside your room but only for him to stop once he noticed the hat in your hands. "Is that..?" You glanced down at the hat in your grasp. "Oh this? It belongs to my friend, he's cool and kind."

A single sweat runs down on his face "Oh he's not, believe me kid."

"Eh, not sure about you that. He's kind to me, and I'm not changing my mind." You shrugged and took the headphones off from your neck. When his eyes landed on the black headphones, he let out a small gasp "Hey where'd you get that? I was looking everywhere."

"Oh is this yours?" You slid off the bed and handed it over to him. "I found this when friend Mafi told me to run away. Here, you can have it back"

"Aw thanks, kiddo!" He takes the headphones as he ruffles your hair, and that triggered you. "Ah man... This is the third my hair went messy. Thanks to you." You pouted, and he only chuckled at your expression.

You were in another round which is very frightening for you and you don't know who is the killer this time and you are currently getting dragged by Guest, your little legs couldn't catch up to him, so when he noticed this he slowed down for you. Though you wondered who was the killer last round when you didn't get to teleport as you noticed when all of them return after the round ended, their expressions looked tired or in pain. You guessed that they didn't win that round and the killer won instead. And that scared you.

"Hey, are you listening?" His voice caught you off guard. "Wha– hah?" You were brought back to reality not noticing you were zoning out. You realized he is crouching in front of generator. He shook his head and sighs "Come here, I'm teaching you how to fix a generator." He beckons his hand at you.

You step forward and crouched beside him your eyes move to look at the generator I'm front of him. "Oh, that..? Don't worry I already know how"

"You do?" He raised a brow at you. You hummed in response as begin to connect the wires. "I'm glad to know you're starting to adjust here... And.." His voice trailed off as his gaze looked down at your small figure, he sigh. "I and the others know you're afraid, I want to let you know you are not alone."

"That's fine mister, I'm just gonna get used to this I guess. You know the word 'suck it up'? Yeah that." You nonchalantly replied and you finished the generator as it hummed to life. In inside, you are scared. Definitely scared but you hid it with your nonchalant smiling face. Guest 1337 can tell you are trying to assure him and yourself.

"Don't say that, a child like you shouldn't be here.." He frowned. "I'm going to be fin– hey what's that sound?"

"..!!!" The music came closer and closer and it alerted Guest, in a blink of an eye you were immediately picked up in his arms, holding you like a baby as he begins to run. The music was closer, the killer must've heard the rustle of grass when guest sprinted, and the killer is hot on their tail. Guest gritted his teeth at this. "Kid, I need you to listen" due to his running and you in his hands, especially covering your ears, you can't hear him.

"I need you to hide, here. And don't. Move. Until I say you can." He panted, his stamina getting lower "I have to lead them away."

Next thing you new, you were immediately buried under a colorful of balls. In a ball pit you go I guess "Wait what—!" You didn't have the time to say anything when you feel his presence is gone, even the music too that is slowly fading away, you emerged your head from the balls only for you to find him nowhere to be seen.

What did he say to you again? You didn't quite hear him...

You sighed and swim up to leave the ball pit. You sighed and started to wander aimlessly.

This place was quite big, you noticed. Or is it just you being so small? Though you are not familiar with this area, so you explored this area as you remember each way as you passed by.

"There you are!!"

"...!" You didn't have time to react when a brick hit the side of your head, almost hitting your ear but it still made your ears ring from the sudden impact. Your body hit the ground as your hands went up to cover your ears. "It's you!! New kid!! Oh this is going to be so much fun!" He gleefully smiled.

"AACK—!" Tears build up in your eyes as you whimpered in pain and curled yourself into a fetus position. "Hey what's wrong?" The boy asked, tilting his head at you. He crouched down beside your smaller figure as he poked your shoulder. (You're shorter than him) "Did you get a tummy ache or something?"

"..No..." You muttered, as you silently cried. "W— *sniff* why did you hit me with a brick..?"

"What did you say? I can't hear you!"

You muster up the courage to sit up despite the dizziness and pain in your head as your other hand slowly went up to touch your wound area. You feel the warm liquid as the blood slowly dribbling down to your face and onto the floor.

"Don't do that again.... please..." You sniffled, wiping the blood away from your face but the blood leaves some smudges. "Do what? You mean tag? Man, you're no fun!" He pouted, his smile turned upside down. "Why won't anyone play with me? Even you too!" You looked at him in the eyes, the wound in your head is still present and even the pain, also the upcoming headache.

"I– it's not that, it's just– ow ow my head–! It's just everyone doesn't like to play rough..." Your tears finally dried as you wiped your face with your sleeve. "But— ow! But if you want to play... We can play today..." You winced in pain as you gently tapped your temple where the wound is.

"Really?!" His frown vanished, replacing a smile on his face. "You'd play with me? YAAAY!!"

"I'm CoolKid! What's your name?"

"I'm [Name], it's nice to meet you..."

Meanwhile… with Guest.

Guest 1337 is currently in a frenzy state, when he came back after leading CooLKid away from you, only to find you gone, you are nowhere to be seen.

And that sent him into panic mode.

As he was looking for you, he asked one of the survivors of your whereabouts, unfortunately they said no and don't know where you are. All of their answers made him panic more. Though the others only looked at him in concern, concern for you and him who is looking for you. And so, one of them volunteered to look for you too. And it was 007n7.

In the distance. Away from Guest and the others, you and CoolKid were playing hide and seek. Your wound finally covered with bandages, thanks to the med kit you found laying on the floor. although the wrapping was a bit sloppy and messy but at least it stop the bleeding. Right now you are currently looking for CoolKid, since you have been tagged hit by a brick by him, you are it– er the seeker. "Hmm... I wonder where he is.." you hummed as you heard giggles behind a wall, you obliviously and blindly walked passed the wall he is hiding at. If I were that red boy, where would I be? You thought to yourself.

As if hearing your thoughts, the leaf on your head suddenly jolts on its own, then a red-highlighted-figure showed up behind a wall for a few seconds before fading away to nothing.

You blinked. What was that? You decided to follow to where the red highlight is, as you walked closer you hear his laughs. Immediately, you turn to check and you are now looking at CoolKid who's back is facing at you while giggling and laughing. "I found you!" You tapped his shoulder lightly.

He gasp as he turn around and looked at you with a grin on his face. "You found me!! You're good at this! Again! Again!" He jumped in his feet "But this time, you hide and I seek you out!"

"Okay." You shrugged, as long as he won't hurt you again you'd be fine. There's a med nearby when you were looking for CoolKid so yeah. You're going to be fine.

You keep telling yourself, you'll be fine.

It's not like he's going to hit you with a sword. Right?

Right...?

[ageingfangirl2]

Ran's Little Waitress (Tokyo Revengers - Bonten)

RAN HAITANI X FEMALE READER

CHAPTER SEVEN: BROTHER KNOWS BEST

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

The knock on the door was light but familiar. You wipe you hands on a tea towel—flour dusted your fingers again—and padded over to open it.

‘Rindou?’ you blink in surprise, noting the lazy grin on his face and the faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his hoodie.

He lifted a hand in greeting, ‘Hey. I was just in the neighborhood…’

You tilt your head, brow raised., ‘And you decided to check on me? Or are you here on behalf of Mikey’s sweet tooth?’

Rindou chuckled, ‘Alright, you got me. I heard about the taiyaki. Sanzu won’t shut up about them, and Mikey actually smiled. You broke a curse or something.’

You laugh softly and step aside to let him in, ‘Come in, then. I’ve got a fresh batch cooling.’

His eyes lit up as he sauntered inside, ‘You’re an angel.’

You place a small plate in front of him on the coffee table, along with a cup of tea, then sat across from him on the floor cushion.

Rindou took a bite and moaned dramatically, ‘Okay, yeah, I’d start a cult for these.’

You smile sweetly, ‘You can have as many as you want…’

He paused mid-chew, suspicious, ‘…What’s the catch?’

‘If you convince your brother to let me come back to work. Fully. No slow transition, no weird scheduling.’

Rindou raised a brow, ‘Pretty bold request, angel.’

‘I’m serious,’ you say, tone softer now, but determined, ‘The club told me no hours, no pay. Even if Ran is the one keeping me home. I still have rent. And bills. And groceries to buy. I’ve been stretching my tips but…’

You look away, clearly frustrated to even admit it, ‘I need to work.’

Rindou frowned, ‘You should’ve been paid anyway. That’s some bullshit.’

‘I asked. They said it’s new policy,’ you stare down at your hands, ‘Ran’s trying to protect me, but it doesn’t help if I lose my apartment.’

Rindou set the half-eaten taiyaki down and pulled his phone out.

typing…

To: RanYo, why the hell isn’t the girl being paid while you’ve got her benched? she needs rent money, bro. thought we were classier than that.

You blink at the boldness, ‘You’re just gonna message him like that?’

Rindou gave you a wink, ‘He gets really cooperative when you remind him we’re not running some sketchy dive anymore. Also, you bribed me with god-tier pastries.’

Your lip twitches, ‘So… you’ll back me up?’

He picked his taiyaki back up, smirking, ‘If Ran doesn’t cave, I’ll start a riot over these.’

You grin at him, truly thankful.

‘Besides,’ Rindou added, finishing the last bite, ‘you’re kinda like the team’s unofficial stress baker now. Can’t lose that.’

Club – Manager’s Office, Late Night

Ran’s phone buzzed while he was flipping through invoices in the back office. He glanced at it and rolled his eyes the moment he saw Rindou's message.

Yo, why the hell isn’t the girl being paid while you’ve got her benched? she needs rent money, bro. thought we were classier than that.

Ran’s jaw tensed slightly. That wasn’t supposed to be a thing. He hadn't frozen her pay—he just didn’t want bruises on the floor making VIPs uncomfortable.

He stood up, heading straight for the floor manager’s office, irritation rolling off him like static.

The manager, a smug, mid-level type who fancied himself more important than he was, looked up in surprise as Ran walked in without knocking.

‘Ran-san—’

‘Why isn’t the new girl getting paid?’ Ran asked bluntly, eyes sharp.

The man blinked, ‘Uh, she hasn’t clocked in. Per new club policy—’

‘Whose policy?’ Ran snapped.

The manager hesitated, ‘We revised it last quarter—figured it’d encourage faster returns if the girls weren’t earning during recovery.’

‘So you changed the policy,’ Ran repeated, voice deadly calm, ‘without telling me?’

Silence.

Ran exhaled, slow and steady, then smiled—but it didn’t reach his eyes, ‘You’re going to fix that. Tonight. And she’s getting back pay for every shift she missed.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Ran turned on his heel and walked out, sending a quick text as he did:

To: RindouThat dumbass changed the policy without clearing it. It’s fixed. She’s getting paid + backdated.

Then another, after a moment of hesitation:

To: Y/NThe pay issue’s fixed. You’ll get back pay too. Come back when you're ready.

Y/N’s Apartment

You return from the kitchen with two mismatched bowls and hand one to Rindou.

‘Mint chocolate chip?’ she offered with a small smile, ‘As thanks. For sticking up for me.’

Rindou grinned, clearly pleased, ‘You’re gonna spoil me.’

You sit back down, curling one leg beneath you on the couch, ‘Well, you’ve earned it.’

He took a bite and let out a satisfied hum, ‘You’re seriously a great host, you know that?’

You duck your head with a soft laugh, ‘Thanks…I guess I had a very old-fashioned upbringing.’

That piqued his interest, ‘Oh yeah?’

You shrug a little, ‘After my parents died in a house fire, I moved in with my grandparents. They were…traditional. Real big on manners, cooking, keeping a home tidy. My grandma always said it was important, because when I found the right guy, I’d leave work and be a full-time wife.’

Rindou blinked, ‘Huh. That’s kinda old-school.’

‘Very,’ you say with a small chuckle, ‘She meant well, though. I think it was her way of making sure I could survive. Even if she thought that meant baking and dusting.’

‘You can survive,’ Rindou said, looking at her over his spoon, ‘You handled that club better than half the veterans.’

You give him a half-smile, ‘Thanks. I’m still not sure I’m built for it. But it pays the bills, and I like making people smile.’

Rindou leaned back, watching you a moment longer, ‘You’ve got backbone. And killer baking skills. Honestly, that’s a dangerous combo.’

You roll your eyes playfully, ‘Yeah, I’m a real threat.’

He smirked, ‘Hey, some guys are into that whole ‘sweet with a mean whisk’ vibe.’

You snort with laughter, and for a moment, things felt easy again.

The cozy apartment smelled faintly of sugar, vanilla, and freshly cleaned countertops. You hum softly to yourself as you stand in the kitchen rinsing some dishes before carefully placing them in the dish rack to dry.

Rindou lounged on your couch, lazily scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other still holding the now-empty bowl of ice cream. The place felt warm, safe. Peaceful. Nothing like the usual grimy chaos of Bonten’s nightlife.

His phone buzzed.

Ran:Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be back by now.

Rindou smirked to himself, thumb hovering before he replied.

Rindou:Still at your girl’s place.

Ran:…My what?

Rindou:She’s taking very good care of me, nii-san. Real sweet. Real soft. Even gave me a warm dessert and called me a good guest.

Rindou stifled a laugh as he watched the little dots appear—Ran was typing. Then stopping. Then typing again.

Ran:She’s not my anything. Don’t mess with the staff.

Rindou:Too late. She’s winning me over. You snooze, you lose.

Ran didn’t respond right away.

Meanwhile, completely oblivious, you walk back over with a folded dish towel, gently wiping the condensation ring from Rindou’s glass on the table.

‘You don’t have to clean up after me,’ he said with a grin, watching her work.

‘It’s a habit,’ you say, glancing up with a soft smile, ‘Grandma always said a guest in your home should feel like royalty.’

‘Guess I’m a prince now,’ he teased.

You roll your eyes but didn’t disagree, ‘Besides, you stuck up for me. That counts for something.’

Just then, Rindou’s phone buzzed again.

Ran:You better be gone before she starts knitting you a damn sweater.

Rindou snorted and tossed the phone aside, clearly entertained.

‘What’s so funny?’ you ask curiously.

‘Nothing,’ he lied easily, ‘Just my brother being paranoid.’

You tilt your head, ‘About what?’

Rindou just grinned, ‘You, apparently.’

You blink, ‘Me?’

‘You make people soft,’ he said casually, ‘It’s dangerous.’

You look flustered for a second, unsure if it was a compliment or a warning, but before you could answer, Rindou stood and stretched.

‘I should probably go before Ran actually shows up at your door.’

You walk him to the entrance, ‘Thanks again… for everything.’

He glanced down at you, his expression softer now, ‘Anytime. And hey, if you knit me something, make it in black.’

You laugh as he walked out, and behind the closed door, Rindou smirked, pulling his phone out again.

Rindou:She’s safe. And you owe her a real apology for not checking that damn policy sooner. Also… your poker face is slipping, nii-san.

Ran’s Apartment

Ran sat on the edge of his couch, his phone resting on the armrest beside him, untouched for several minutes now. The city outside buzzed faintly through his window—faraway sirens, the hum of traffic, laughter in the distance—but none of it touched him.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hair falling slightly into his face as he stared blankly ahead.

She’s not my anything. The words he sent Rindou echoed back at him like a hollow laugh. You weren’t. Just an employee. A damn good one, sure—but plenty of girls had come and gone. Charming, talented, beautiful. None of them stuck in his mind like this.

You weren’t even trying.

No flashy flirtation, no feigned sweetness to crawl up the social ladder. You made cookies and tea, offered ice cream like it was a sacred ritual, and cleaned up water rings from the damn coffee table like it actually mattered.

You make people soft.Rindou’s words. Too accurate for comfort.

Ran sat back with a soft exhale, eyes trailing up to the ceiling. He thought about how you looked opening your apartment door—ice pack pressed to your cheek, bruises slowly fading, that same nervous but kind smile on your face. How you flinched when that asshole grabbed your wrist. How you apologised for it afterwards, like you’d done something wrong.

His jaw clenched.

He hadn’t missed the bandages on your knees. When Rindou mentioned that little throwaway line about quitting your job to stay home once you ‘found someone’ made something curl in his chest.

He rubbed a hand over his face. You’re not getting soft, he told himself. You’re protecting the investment. That’s all. You brought in tips. Kept the VIPs smiling. Kept Rindou from being a complete pain in the ass. You were valuable. That’s why it mattered. Right?

His phone buzzed.

Rindou:Sweet dreams, prince. She said I can have more cookies tomorrow. Maybe I’ll bring Mikey.

Ran scowled.

Ran:Touch her cookies and die.

He paused, then threw his phone across the couch, running a hand through his hair.

‘…Shit.’

Yeah. He was getting soft.

[hungermakesmonsters]

The Red Ribbon

Chapter One

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6k

A/N : This is a little something I've been toying with for a while. It's only going to be a short thing (3 parts) over the next few weeks. There's no upload schedule but it'll probably be posting on Fridays anyway 😅 Also I've been ill all week so that's my excuse for typos

Master List

Chapter One

“Remind me why I hired you?”

His voice was a cold snap that caused your cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Even on his birthday, your boss was an asshole.

Your hands trembled as you tried to restack the files that you’d clumsily manage to drop all over his office floor. The contents of the files had spilled out and you already knew that it was going to take you hours to make sure the correct paperwork ended up back where it was supposed to be.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” he added a moment later. “Why did I hire you?”

“Because your other assistants keep quitting,” you muttered under your breath.

It was humiliating, scrabbling around on his office floor, the carpet scrapping your bare knees as you tried to pick everything up as quickly as possible.

“What was that?” He asked.

It was reasonable to guess that he hadn’t heard you - you were certain he would have been a lot angrier if he’d heard you. Still, you hated yourself for letting it slip out. As much as you hated the way your boss treated you, the pay was good. Too good to quit.

“I said I’m sorry Mr Russo,” you answered softly, managing to grab the last of the files and get back to your feet. “I’ll get these sorted and have them on your desk first thing in the morning.”

“I hope you’re planning on staying late.”

“What?” The word spilled from your lips before you had the chance to stop it.

“Do you have somewhere else to be? Something more important than fixing your fuck up and doing the job I pay you to do?” Mr Russo asked.

As a matter of fact, you did have somewhere else to be and something that was more important than fixing the potential Anvil candidate files that you’d managed to dump all over his office floor, but you couldn’t tell him that.  

There was only one person who knew how you spent your nights, and it certainly wasn’t your boss. No, if Billy Russo knew where you went after your days at Anvil, he’d see to it that he had your resignation in his hand by the end of the day. And you were sure the same could be said of your night job.

“No, Mr Russo,” you answered, dropping your gaze to the floor, “I don’t have anywhere more important to be.”

“Good answer,” he said as he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on. He moved towards his office door, stepping past you as if you were just another piece of furniture, a spare chair in the way. “And don’t even think about leaving that unfinished. I’ll be in at 5am so you’re not going to have the opportunity to sneak in early tomorrow to finish up.”

He didn’t even wait for a half-hearted ‘yes, Mr Russo’ before leaving for the day.

You glanced at your watch, doing the maths in your head; you should have been finishing in ten minutes time, at five o’clock, which would have given you three hours to get home, eat, and then get across town to work your night job.

The Red Ribbon was New York's most exclusive gentlemen's club - though to call it a gentlemen’s club was somewhat outdated as, these days, it catered to the needs and desires of wealthy clientele regardless of gender identity and sexual orientation. But, it had been considered a gentlemen’s club since the 1950s, and the verbiage was surprisingly hard to shake. 

The club offered something that few similar establishments did; total anonymity for both guests and workers. There were no cameras in The Red Ribbon, no phones or recording devices were allowed. And everyone wore masks. The only way to tell the staff from the clientele were the red ribbons worn about their necks.

You’d been working at The Red Ribbon for the last six months. At the start you’d tended bar, not wanting to get too hands-on with the customers - not because you had any strong feelings or moral objections about those that did, but mostly because you didn’t think you’d be any good at it. You’d never been the sort to consider yourself graceful, much less sexy, but you could make a mean espresso martini and you were great with pointless smalltalk. 

The money was good, but it wasn’t good enough, not when you had debts and financial obligations. 

At The Red Ribbon, the hosts made the most money, each getting assigned to one of the private rooms and being tasked with taking care of the customers' needs for the whole night. It was ultimately up to the host what taking care of the customer entailed though boundaries were firmly established before the host set foot in the private room. Every host had their own limits, some were happy to touch and be touched, some took it further still, and others preferred a hands-off approach.

If there was one thing The Red Ribbon was known for beyond the total anonymity it offered, it was the level of security. Everyone who set foot through the doors knew better than to cause trouble or push the boundaries of any member of staff.

You’d made the switch from bartender to host slowly, filling in whenever someone was out sick or when you needed a little extra money. You were slow to warm to it but, to your surprise, you found that you actually enjoyed it. Though you stayed firmly in the no touching or being touched camp, the tips you made in one night were still more than you made over a whole week tending bar.

But, when that money still wasn’t enough to cover your debts, you took a day job.

And that was how you’d ended up spending an evening hunched over a desk at Anvil, trying desperately to match paperwork with the correct file for a boss who’d made it pretty clear that he didn't like you and thought you were too inept for your job.

By the time you were done, you barely had the chance to make it home and shower and, instead of eating a proper meal, you ate a Snickers bar on the subway.

The Red Ribbon had a special entrance for staff that used old prohibition tunnels and a hidden elevator to get you into the building and up to the top floor. 

New York was stunning from fifty floors up and, some nights, you’d find yourself in the locker room just staring out at the skyline as you changed into your uniform. But tonight you didn’t have the luxury of time.

You stood in front of the schedule, checking which room you were in and which mask you’d be wearing. While bar staff and servers all wore the same elegant black and red masks  to obscure their faces, hosts wore individual masks that corresponded with the room they’d be working. Tonight you were in the rabbit room, so you plucked the ornate rabbit mask from its hook on the wall.

Of all the masks, the rabbit had always been your favourite because of the detailing on the ears and the way it just sat right on your face.

You always got such a rush from pulling a mask on and heading out into the club. Under any other circumstance the thought of walking around in a revealing black bodysuit would have been embarrassing, but once you had your mask on, you felt almost powerful, like a superhero with a secret identity. With the mask, you weren’t you, you were whatever part you were playing and tonight you were Bunny, and Bunny could be whoever you wanted her to be.

The last part of your uniform was the red ribbon that you tied around your neck, the very thing that distinguished staff from customers, and gave the club its name.

You gave yourself one last look in the floor to ceiling mirror, making sure that you looked ready to handle whatever the night had to throw at you, before finally stepping out into the main area of the club.

Once you passed the threshold, everything about you changed; you held your head high and walked through the club like you owned the place. Here you weren’t the quiet little PA who had to keep her mouth shut in case her boss decided to fire her. Here you called the shots.

The spring in your step became even more noticeable as you climbed the stairs and headed onto the walkway that led to the private rooms, each situated above the dancefloor with views of the whole club. 

“Hey, lil Bunny,” an all too familiar face said.

You grinned from ear to ear at the sight of Rocky, one of the club's security guards, a man, who in any other circumstances would terrify you.  He was a huge behemoth of a man, truly deserving of the title Built Like a Brick Shit-House. To the patrons, he was the one they didn’t want to get on the bad side of, but to you and the rest of the staff, he was safety incarnate.

“Hey, Rocky,” you said, bumping fists with him as you came to a stop in front of him.

He’d taken something of a shine to you on your first night at The Red Ribbon - he later told you it was because you reminded him of his sister who’d died only a few years before. Since then he’d always kept a close eye on you.

After bumping fists, you kept your arm outstretched so he could fit your security bracelet for the night; a very ornate looking panic button that you could use discreetly if you needed Rocky to deal with a problem customer. 

“You let me know if you need anything,” he said softly but seriously.

And, with that, you were on your way again, slipping into the rabbit room with a few minutes to spare before your guest arrived. You did a quick sweep of the room, making sure everything was tidy before turning on the music and checking the bar and, finally, you lowered the lights.

Less than five minutes later, a group of men were shown into the room, each wearing plain black masks that covered the top half of their faces, and each dressed to the club's high standards. Though, just from looking at them you could tell that some were more comfortable in suits than others.

“Welcome to The Red Ribbon, I’m Bunny and I’ll be your host for the evening and I’ll be running the bar for you, so make yourselves comfortable and I’ll get you your first round,” you announced and, with a flourish of your hand, you waved them towards the sofas.

You took drink orders and made a point of saying a little personal hello to each of them, knowing that it’d help win you tips by the end of the night.

As far as groups went, they seemed decent enough, not exactly what you’d call reserved by any stretch, but they seemed to be happy to talk amongst themselves while you tended bar, not expecting anything more of you.

After about half an hour, one of them broke away from the group and headed towards the bar. You couldn’t help but watch him, taking in the perfect way that his suit fit his tall, slender frame. 

He took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and flashed you the sort of smile that you were sure had panties dropping all across the five boroughs on a regular basis.

“What can I get you?” You asked.

“Another scotch would be great.”

“Sure thing.”

You were acutely aware of the way his eyes followed your every movement as you  grabbed a bottle and fresh glass with ice. Your skin felt like it was tingling under his gaze - he wasn’t leering, it felt more like he was appreciating. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

For a second you wondered if it was a line - it certainly sounded like a line - but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you think he was actually being serious.

“What makes you say that?” You asked in your playful voice, deciding to indulge him.

“I’d remember seeing you.”

He wasn���t shy about drinking in the sight of you. At any other time you might have felt disgusted, but it was part of the job and you probably would have been more offended if he  wasn’t checking you out.

“Hmm, and what exactly is it you think you’d remember?” You retorted playfully.

He grinned at that, a laugh rumbling in his chest. And his eyes - fuck, his dark eyes almost seemed to twinkle.

“I’m not sure it’d be considered polite if I was to get... anatomical,” he joked.

“It’s my ass, isn’t it?” You offered offhandedly, breaking any tension or sense of shame.

His grin grew wider, though there was a hint of surprise on his face too, like he hadn’t quite expected you to be so forward.

“Now that you mention it, you do have a very nice ass,” he agreed, “in fact that whole thigh-ass area is perfection.”

You could feel warmth spreading across your cheeks and down your neck, and you were glad of the low lights and the mask on your face. While you were used to comments on your body and what men wanted to do with you while working, there was something different about this. This felt like flirting. Honest to god flirting. And it had been a long time since anyone had tried to flirt with you.

Out in the real world, his comment would have turned you into a shy mess, but behind the bunny mask... well, let’s just say that Bunny wanted to play.

“Oh, a thigh man as well?” 

“I’m a man of refined tastes,” he shrugged.

His grin had you wishing you could see the rest of his face. You were already trying to picture what he might look like behind the mask but you were certain that your imagination was not doing it justice.

“And what else does that taste extend to?” You asked, leaning across the bar a little more as you slid his drink towards him.

His fingers briefly covered yours - rougher than you’d expected - before you slowly pulled your hand away. For a split second, you felt your breath catch, and there was a flicker of something on his face that made you think he’d felt it too, that moment of electricity when you’d touched.

“Are we still talking anatomically? Because I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about your tits for the last five minutes.”

Again, it wasn’t the sort of comment you’d put up with in any other situation but, then and there, in a place where you held all the power, you liked hearing it. The fact that he’d been allowed into The Red Ribbon meant that he was someone, that he was rich and powerful, so for poor, boring you to be the object of his desires gave a thrill like no other.

You let slip another laugh, propping yourself against the bar with a hand beneath your chin, eyes fixed on Mr Tall, Dark and Playful.

“Only the last five minutes?” You said, almost sounding distraught.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Bunny,” he remarked, leaning towards you as he lifted his drink and took a slow sip.

“I get the feeling that you like trouble.”

“You have no idea...”

It would have been a lie to say that the temptation to carry on the flirtatious conversation wasn’t increasing with every passing second; it was fun, you were actually enjoying it rather than just being subjected to it. But he wasn’t the only person in the room who wanted your attention and you had a job to do. 

“Looks like your friends want some attention too,” you said, nodding your head towards the group of men still sitting at the table. One of them was waving you over, obviously in desperate need of another drink.

“Animals, the lot of them,” he said, almost fondly. “I should have known they had selfish reasons for bringing me here on my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” You asked and received a nod in response, before shaking your head and muttering; “another Sagittarius...”

“Another?” 

You looked at him, almost embarrassed that you’d let it slip out and that you’d blurred the line between your real life and Bunny.

“Just a guy I know,” you shrugged.

“He break your heart or something? Need me and the guys to pay him a visit?” He offered playfully.

Another laugh escaped you and you couldn’t help but think about how strange it felt to be able to genuinely laugh with one of the customers. After months of perfecting your customer service laugh, you’d never expected to find yourself actually laughing at some off-handed comment. Especially when the comment was about a stranger going to beat the shit out of your boss for being mean to you.

“No, it’s okay. I can handle myself.”

“I’ll bet you can, Bunny.”

“Well,” you said, definitively, changing the subject and taking your thoughts away from your terrible day-boss, “happy birthday. I think you deserve something fancy to drink.”

He grinned as you turned away to fish a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge and grab enough glasses for him and his friends.

“This place is really somethin’ else,” a second voice said. “I know you said the girls were pretty but... holy shit.”

Tall, Dark and Playful gave a laugh.

“Prettiest girls in New York are all right here,” he said, clapping his friend on the back.

“Careful boys, my ears are burning,” you joked as you turned back to them.

“It's a beautiful woman's fate to be the subject of conversation wherever she goes,” he said.

“Didn't expect to hear anyone quoting Dorian Gray tonight,” you answered back, amused.

He looked almost surprised by the comment, his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes grew a little wider.

“You’ve read Dorian Gray?” He asked. “You like to read?”

“Does that surprise you?” You asked, your mask hiding the way your eyebrow rose. “Do you not think girls like me can read the classics?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s -” he glanced at his friend beside him, then to the group sitting at the table. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but from some of the hand gestures being made, you could guess that it was something filthy, “- it’s just that I'm not used to being around people who can actually read.”

He got a rough punch in the arm from the guy beside him for that, and you started to laugh again. 

They continued to talk while you popped the champagne and started to fill glasses for the whole party. You placed one in front of the birthday boy, and one in front of his friend, before loading up a tray and taking the rest to the party at the table.

“Champagne to toast the birthday boy,” you said with a cheeky smile, earning a round of cheers from the men.

When you returned to the bar, Tall and Dark’s friend passed you, heading back to the group, leaving the birthday boy all alone.

“Not gonna drink with your friends?” You asked.

It was hard not to feel curious - it was part of the job, the masks, the hidden identities, there were always so many unanswered questions.

“I’ve never been one for birthdays,” he answered with a shrug, but still shot you a smile before lifting his champagne flute to his lips.

“Hmm so the mysterious, handsome stranger has a tragic backstory,” you said playfully.

“I don’t know if I’d call it tragic,” he said, his shoulder ticking upwards uncomfortably.

“Should I ask?”

Probably not, you thought. But some part of you wanted to know, wanted to prod and poke until you had him all figured out.

“My mother abandoned me a few hours after I was born,” he stated flatly.

Oh.

Shit.

You didn’t expect him to laugh when he looked at you again, his head shaking. “Don’t look so shocked, it was a long time ago and I’ve come a long way since then.”

“I just -” the confidence of Bunny slipped for a moment, leaving only you; the clumsy girl with a heart that often felt far too big, “- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve joked...”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve had plenty of time to get over it. Besides, the way I figure it, she did me a favour. You want soft kids, coddle them and treat them well.”

“Wouldn't know anything about that,” you said with a wry smile. “My parents definitely didn't coddle us.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“That all I'm getting?” He asked, smiling that playful smile again.

“Getting personal defeats the point of the masks, don't you think?” You retorted, leaning to top up his drink.

“I suppose,” he answered, pausing for a beat before continuing, “I guess you could tell me anything and I'd have to take your word for it.”

“You don't strike me as the sort of man who's trusting enough to do something like that.”

It was something you could see in his eyes, the way they took you in and watched every little flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

“Then why don't we play a game?” He offered. “We each get to ask a question, and you get to call the other out if you think they’re lying. And if I catch you in a lie, you have to tell me something true.”

Your eyes narrowed a little, trying to get a measure of him. Normally you were reasonably good at reading people - though maybe a lot of that came from working various PA and secretarial positions, needing to be able to anticipate your boss’ shitty moods.

“Okay, you’re on,” you agreed, “but a few ground rules; you’re not allowed to ask about who I am or anything that might identify me.”

“Sounds fair.” He lifted his champagne and took a slow drink but his eyes never left you. “What are you most afraid of?”

That caught you off guard. It was more serious than you’d anticipated.

“You could ask me almost anything, but that’s what you want to know?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person by what they’re scared of,” he said, shrugging.

You took a second to consider your answer.

“Jellyfish.”

“Really, Bunny, you’re gonna lie right outta the gate?” 

“Okay, fine,” you said with a huff, hating that he’d caught you out already. “I guess I’m most scared of dying alone, but jellyfish are a close second.”

“You think you’re gonna die alone?” He asked.

There was something in his voice that seemed to suggest he didn’t get it, or maybe it was that he thought it would never happen. Little did he know that you - the real you - didn’t exactly have the best luck with men.

“That’s two questions. Don’t I get a turn?” You asked, deciding to dodge his question.

Tall and Dark relented and gave a wave of his hand.

“What do you hate most about New York?” 

“Hate?” He repeated.

“Everyone always loves the same things about the city, but most people hate something different,” you explained.

You watched him closely as he considered his answer, looking for anything that might tell you if he was about to lie to you.

“The subway. It stinks of piss and there’s always too many people.”

You had to give him that one for obvious reasons, though he didn’t strike you as the kind of guy who used the subway all that often.

“When was the last time you used the subway?”

“That’s two questions, Bunny,” he chided playfully.

“Fine. Your turn.”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“What? You think that this wasn’t my career goal?” You said, barely holding back a laugh as you shook your head. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of phases; I wanted to be a vet until I lost my first hamster, wanted to be a doctor until my brother broke his arm, and I wanted to be a lawyer but I have a conscience...”

The birthday boy laughed with you, smiling at you, obviously happy enough with your answer because he didn’t call you out, making it your turn again.

“What’s your favourite place in New York?” You asked.

“Right here,” he said. “Right now. With you.”

“Yikes, what a line,” you said, smirking at him despite the heat in your cheeks. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Normally I don’t need lines.”

“No?”

“People - women - usually make their minds up about me pretty quickly, and it’s rarely because of anything I have to say,” he explained.

You watched as he lifted his glass and drained his drink. Without needing to be asked, you refilled his glass. There was a pang of sadness in you, for him, for what he obviously had to go through.

“You must be pretty rich then,” you said, managing to keep the playful tone.

“Oh filthy rich,” he confirmed.

“Emphasis on the filthy part.”

He smirked at that.

The longer the conversation went on, the stranger it felt; it didn’t feel like work anymore, and you almost wished that it wasn’t. But moments like this didn’t happen to you out in the real world. He probably wouldn’t even look at you twice if he saw you in the light of day.

“Anyway, I call bullshit. There must be somewhere you like better than here, even if you are enjoying my company,” you said.

“Alright,” he conceded with an almost rueful smile, “there’s a baseball field in Brooklyn. I used to go there when I was a kid to watch other kids play...”

There was more to it, even you could tell that much, but it seemed personal - far more personal than you were prepared to get with him.

“You like baseball?”

“Liked,” he said, correcting you and adding another layer of uncertainty. “And that’s two questions.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to playing games when I’m tending bar,” you said, topping up his glass again before glancing towards his friends. “And, on that note...”

Again, you felt his eyes on you as you moved around the bar and headed to his friends, checking that everyone was having a good time and taking orders for fresh drinks.

“Think you’ve made the birthday boy’s night,” one of them said.

“Yeah, normally he slips out of his birthday parties after the first hour,” another commented, and they all laughed.

And, as you made your way back towards the bar (towards him), you couldn’t help but wonder what his birthdays were usually like.

“Hope they weren’t giving you any trouble,” he said as you slipped behind the bar and put the empty glasses you’d gathered to the side so you could start getting fresh drinks.

“No, you’ve all been perfect gentlemen,” you said, smiling at him, your face obviously showing some degree of relief because he quickly commented on it.

“Are there times when guys aren’t gentlemen?” He asked.

There was something in his tone, a hint of - what? - protectiveness, or anger maybe. 

“Sometimes, but that’s what Rocky is for,” you said, nodding your head towards the door.

“The big guy?” He asked and you nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t fancy my chances with him.”

Filling a tray with the fresh drinks, you went back to the table and passed them around before heading back to him again, taking up the spot on the opposite side of the bar from him, leaning your elbow on the bartop.

“So,” you said, almost decidedly, “want to tell me why you’re spending your birthday night out talking to me and not with your friends?”

He seemed to hesitate, but only for a split second.

“I thought it was my turn.”

“It is,” you conceded, “if you want to keep playing, but I think you might enjoy your birthday more if you spent it with friends.”

“We could be friends.”

“Friends don’t check out each other's asses, handsome.”

“Oh, so you’ve been checking out my ass?” He said as a grin tugged at his lips.

“What can I say?” You shrugged. “Something about men in well tailored pants drives me wild.”

The birthday boy let out another laugh, and it was such a happy sound that he drew glances from his friends, all of them wondering just what it was you’d said to manage to get a response like that from him.

He grabbed his glass and got to his feet.

“This isn’t over, Bunny,” he said before heading towards his friends.

Over the rest of the night, you found yourself watching him, always coming up with a teasing or playful remark whenever you went across to get them fresh drinks (oh, you wanted a drink, I just thought you wanted to stare at my ass again and I know how much you enjoy watching me walk away).

And he watched you, too.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps under his attention and you quickly came to love the sensation. Never in all your time working at The Red Ribbon had you felt such a connection with a guest, and you probably never would again.

So, when they all finally stood to leave, you felt a pang of regret - you shouldn’t have sent him back to his friends, you should have kept him with you so you could talk more.

Each of the guys said their thanks, each dropping bills into the tip jar by the door on their way out.

One of them stopped and looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Thanks. I dunno what you said to him but I ain’t seen him like this in a long time.”

Your heart stuttered, not sure what it was you could have done to inspire such a change in a man you didn’t even know.

You noticed him linger as the door swung shut behind the last of his friends and, at any other time, that would be cause for concern but something told you that you weren’t in danger. Not from him. 

“Something else I can help you with?” You asked, as playful as ever.

“Plenty,” he said, his smile dropping a little. “But everything I want would break the rules, and the last thing I want is to get banned when there’s a chance I might see you again.”

It was sweet how oddly accepting he was of how things were, how they had to be. It made it harder to watch him walk away knowing that you might not see him again. You’d never felt such an instant connection with a stranger before, especially not a stranger who’d seen this side of you, a stranger who knew what you did for a living and didn’t judge you for it.

Against your better judgement, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, before pulling back slightly. You lingered close, watching the way the corner of his lip ticked upwards and heard the slightest catch of his breath.

“Well, here’s hoping you can tell who I am the next time you see me,” you offered in little more than a whisper.

Slowly, cautiously, his hand lifted to your face and you felt your heart skip a beat. It was the barest of touches, so light that he might not have even touched you at all, but you felt a warmth spread across your skin nonetheless.

“I’ll know, Bunny,” he said with a certainty that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m gonna find you again.”

“Promises, promises,” you joked, wanting to keep the mood light, knowing that the odds of seeing him again were small. And, with that thought, you found yourself leaning forward again, this time pressing your lips to his for the briefest of seconds. “Something to remember me by.”

Then you stepped back, creating space between your body and his, a silent signifier that the night was over.

“I will find you,” he said again. “I always get what I want, Bunny, one way or another.”

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you said, avoiding answering his comment.

He gave you one last look, drinking in the sight of you from head to toe, and you felt your whole body warm in response. Then he left, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the promise that you’d see him again. 

It should have worried you; the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d been looking, and the fact that he wanted to find you again. But it didn’t. Instead of worry, all you felt was want, even if you knew that the man behind the mask might be someone completely different. Even if you knew the man behind the mask probably wouldn’t be interested in who you were when you weren’t playing Bunny.

Later that night as you laid in bed, your vibrator between your thighs and his dark eyes in your mind, you wondered what he was doing. Your eyes closed tight, picturing him standing over you, watching as you fucked yourself. He’d smile that playful smile down at you and slowly grip his cock - and, fuck, his cock was probably as perfect as the rest of him.

You longed to know what he looked like beneath the mask and beneath the expensive clothes.

You wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by him, for him to kiss you and hold you. For him to fuck you.

No matter what you imagined as you slid the vibrator in and out your body, your thoughts continued to return to one thing; his eyes. You wanted to get lost in them, wanted to make him laugh and see them sparkle. You wanted to see them darken with need as he fucked you and took what he wanted from you.

I always get what I want, he’d told you. And he wanted you.

A loud moan tore from your lips as you came, your whole body shivering with pleasure at the thought of this strange and alluring man getting what he wanted from you.

Then, with a heavy sigh, you sank back on your bed and curled up, the usual feelings of insecurity quickly filling you again.

He’d probably forget all about you; everything he’d said had probably just been to try and get something more than you’d been prepared to give. He’d probably already forgotten you...

Little did you know that, across town, Billy Russo was fisting his cock to thoughts of you without knowing it was you he was thinking of, his hand stroking up and down his length as he stood in the shower. He jerked off to thoughts of your body, your laugh, your smile. He pictured all the ways that he wanted you, his Bunny, all the things he wanted to do.

Your plump and pretty lips would look good wrapped around his cock, and your plush thighs would no doubt feel amazing wrapped around his head as he feasted on your cunt. 

He licked his lips for what must have been the hundredth time since you kissed him and was, yet again, disappointed that there was no lingering taste of you.

As he came, he knew that he had to have you. He would find you again, and he would make you his if it was the last thing he did.

A/N : I feel weird when I don't post on a Friday, so here's a new thing 😅 like I said at the start, this will just be a short, sweet thing (3 parts and done), but hopefully it'll be a lot of fun and a little bit more playful/light-hearted compared to Love, Sick Love. (And I promise no cliffhanger ending to this one 😅) If you've played TellTale's The Wolf Among Us, that's where I got the ribbon idea from (well that and that old ghost story... but no ones head is going to fall off in this, I promise).

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged. I'm not going to full commit to posting every Friday for this because I work in retail and, as you can imagine, it's hectic at the moment, but I want to try and post at least once a week since this is only going to be a short story.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

Also I can't remember if anyone else asked to be tagged in all future Billy stories, if I've missed you please shout at me.

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx

[jakesaverse]

EXHIBIT A: HEARTBREAK | JAKE SIM (01) ON HOLD

—————————————————————————————

synopsis: a high-profile case pulls you back to Korea, forcing you to confront the past you’ve spent two years avoiding—including the man who once shut you out. With old wounds reopening and a career-defining opportunity on the line, you must decide whether to keep hiding in the background or finally take center stage.

pairings: jake x reader; jay x reader (??) ; a couple of strangers

genre: friends to lovers ; exes to possible lovers; angsttttt; fluff ; slow burn (sorry); swearing; lots of falling outs

warnings/notes: Hi there! Thanks for giving this story a chance! This is sort of an introduction before the chaos hits. There’s not much to warn about this chapter except mentions of friendship dynamics and favoritism 😑.

DISCLAIMER: I obviously have no idea how everything works in a legal setting so please don’t say I’m writing it completely wrong (I know). This just pure fiction 😅

————————————————————————————-

The shrill ring of your phone cut through the haze of sleep. Groggily, you fumbled around your nightstand before finally grabbing it and bringing it to your ear.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Jay’s amused voice greeted you.

You groaned, rolling onto your side as you squinted at the clock. Your heart dropped.

“Jay” you hissed, already throwing off your blanket. “Why are you calling me?!”

“Because I knew you’d sleep through your alarm,” he replied smoothly. “Mock trial’s in less than an hour, Y/N. You’re welcome.”

Your brain barely had time to process the words before pure panic set in.

“Oh my god—Jay, why didn’t you call me earlier?!”

Jay’s laugh was lighthearted but entirely unhelpful. “Because this is funnier.”

You hung up on him.

Still tangled in your sheets, you scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over your own feet as you bolted toward the bathroom. Toothbrush in one hand, blazer in the other, you moved as quickly as humanly possible, mentally cursing yourself for staying up so late preparing for today.

At least—at least—you had laid out your clothes last night. One less thing to worry about.

Not even five minutes later, you were already sprinting out of your apartment, only to skid to a stop at the sight of Jay’s car idling by the curb. He leaned against the driver’s side, arms crossed over his chest, grinning as if this was the most entertaining thing he had ever seen.

“Did you drive here?” you asked, still slightly breathless.

“Figured you’d need a ride,” he said, opening the passenger door. “Hurry up. We’re gonna be late.”

Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you slid into the seat, tossing your bag at your feet as you fasten your seatbelt.

Jay barely gave you a second before glancing over, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Might want to fix yourself before Jungwon sees you.”

You shot him a glare through the mirror as you attempted to tame your hair. “I hate you.”

Jay laughed as he pulled onto the main road. “No, you don’t.”

—————————————————————————————

The car ride was quiet at first, both of you too focused on the day ahead. You flipped through the case file, double-checking every detail, making sure there weren’t any loose ends.

Then, something caught your eye.

“Wait—Jay, this doesn’t line up,” you said, tapping a page.

Jay glanced over, his brows furrowing. “What doesn’t?”

You pointed. “The witness testimony. The defense claimed their client was at work during the time of the incident, but the timestamp on their own document says otherwise. This completely undercuts their alibi.”

Jay blinked.

Then he grinned. “Nice catch, Y/N. You just made my job ten times easier.”

You shrugged, but inside, you felt the tiniest bit of pride.

Jay continued driving, but you noticed the way his fingers tapped against the wheel—a nervous tic you had never really seen from him before.

“You okay?” you asked, glancing at him.

Jay exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Yeah. Just—” He hesitated, which was also unusual. “I don’t know. I guess I feel weirdly… off today.”

That made you pause. Jay was always confident. Always sure of himself. Seeing him like this was…new.

“Jay, you’re gonna do great,” you said, nudging him slightly. “You always do.”

He gave you a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

But something in his voice told you that, for once, he needed reassurance.

—————————————————————————————

The air in the conference room was thick with anticipation. Even though this was just a mock trial, the weight of it felt real. The associates who had gathered to observe were seated in rows behind you, whispering among themselves as Jungwon settled into his seat at the head of the room.

Jungwon adjusted his suit jacket and cleared his throat, his expression cool and unreadable. “Court is now in session,” he announced, his voice carrying easily over the low murmur of the room. “This is a mock trial, but I expect the same level of professionalism and diligence as if we were in a real courtroom. Counsel, are you ready to proceed?”

Jay rose to his feet, buttoning his jacket in one smooth motion. He was composed, radiating confidence like he had done this a thousand times before which, technically, he had.

“Ready, Your Honor,” he said, sending Jungwon a playful smirk.

Jungwon merely raised a brow. “We’ll see about that.” Then, he turned his attention to the opposing counsel, Takahiro, who straightened his tie before nodding stiffly.

Jay glanced at you, and you gave him a subtle nod in return. You had already gone over the case files with him, making sure he was fully prepared. But still, you couldn’t help but feel the smallest flicker of nerves as you held the documents in your hands.

This wasn’t your moment to speak, but it was your job to make sure everything went perfectly.

Jungwon gestured for Jay to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury—” Jay started, his voice smooth and commanding as he began his opening statement. He moved fluidly, walking a few steps before turning back toward the table, his eyes flicking toward the associates in the room who were playing the role of the jury.

The case was centered around a high-profile contract dispute, something that, in reality, could make or break a firm’s reputation. Jay laid out the facts with precision, his argument strong and calculated.

But Takahiro was just as sharp.

The moment Jay finished his introduction, Takahiro pushed to his feet with an easy smirk.

“Objection, Your Honor,” he drawled, casting a look toward Jungwon. “Counsel is making sweeping statements without citing any direct evidence.”

Jay barely blinked. “Your Honor, I’m merely setting the stage. The evidence will speak for itself when the time comes.”

Jungwon leaned forward slightly. “Sustained. Stick to the facts, Mr. Park.”

You watched Jay’s jaw tighten briefly before he gave Jungwon a curt nod. “Of course, Your Honor.”

Takahiro shot you a glance as he sat back down, his smirk never fading. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was enjoying this way too much.

The mock trial continued, the back-and-forth between Jay and Takahiro growing more intense. Jay was handling it well, countering every argument with his usual wit and confidence. But as you flipped through the case files once more, your eyes caught on something from earlier.

A discrepancy.

A mistake in the opposing counsel’s documents.

Your breath hitched. It was small, but significant, something that could unravel their entire argument.

Heart pounding, you leaned closer to Jay and slid the document from earlier towards him, discreetly tapping the section in question.

Jay’s eyes flicked to the page, scanning it quickly. Then, a slow, almost imperceptible grin spread across his lips.

He turned back toward the front of the room. “Your Honor, if I may redirect your attention to Exhibit C,” Jay said smoothly, lifting the document. “There appears to be an inconsistency in the opposing counsel’s timeline.”

Takahiro’s smirk faltered.

You could practically hear the breath he sucked in through his teeth as Jay continued.

“If we follow their claim, their client would have needed to be in two places at once.” Jay paused, letting the weight of the statement settle in the room. “Now, unless they have evidence proving their client is capable of bending time and space, I’d say this argument falls apart.”

A few chuckles echoed from the observing associates. Even Jungwon let out a small, amused exhale before composing himself.

Takahiro scrambled to counter, but the damage was already done. You could see it in his clenched jaw, the slight twitch of his fingers as he shuffled through his own notes.

Jay turned to you, tapping the document once in silent appreciation. You gave him the smallest nod back, a flicker of satisfaction swelling in your chest.

Jungwon straightened, glancing between both sides before speaking. “Given the circumstances, I believe we have our decision.” His gaze landed on Takahiro. “The defense has failed to provide a strong enough argument. The plaintiffs win this round.”

A rush of relief washed over you as the room filled with murmurs. Jay let out a breath and rolled his shoulders back, looking pleased.

But Takahiro?

He was already watching you.

And you knew—this wasn’t over.

—————————————————————————————

After the mock trial wrapped up, you expected Jungwon to call it a day, maybe give a quick rundown of what went well and what needed improvement before dismissing everyone. But instead, he remained standing at the front of the conference room, scanning the room with that composed, calculating expression that made you nervous for what was to come.

Jay shot you a knowing glance, sensing something was coming. You leaned slightly toward him, speaking under your breath. “He’s got that face on.”

Jay smirked but kept his voice low. “Yeah, this is definitely about to turn into something bigger.”

Jungwon’s voice finally cut through the murmur of the room. “Good job today, everyone. Some of you handled the pressure well. Some of you—” his eyes briefly flickered to the opposing counsel, who was still fuming from the trial’s outcome— “not so much. But that’s why we practice.”

Takahiro let out a small, disgruntled scoff, his frustration clearly simmering, but you chose to ignore him, focusing on Jungwon.

“Now, let’s talk about what’s next,” Jungwon continued, his tone becoming more serious. “We’ve got a real case—a high-stakes one—and it requires a very specific, carefully selected team. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been deciding who’s best suited for this, and after today’s mock trial, I’m confident in my choice.”

The room went silent. The tension was palpable. You felt your breath catch in your throat, already anticipating the news.

Jungwon’s gaze swept over the room before landing directly on you and Jay. “I’ll be leading a small team for this, and the two people who will be taking the lead under my supervision are Jay and Y/N.”

A long beat of silence followed. Then, the murmurs started.

Takahiro scoffed again, this time louder. “Of course,” he muttered, his voice thick with bitterness.

You ignored him, keeping your focus on Jungwon, who was still as calm as ever.

Jay, sitting next to you, exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. “Well, guess we’re going to Korea.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach—not from nerves about the case, but from what Korea meant. From what Jake meant. Your chest tightened, but you held it in.

Jungwon wasn’t finished. His tone remained steady, but there was an underlying sharpness. “Before anyone asks—no, this wasn’t favoritism. The decision was based on skill, performance, and how you handled yourselves today. It’s clear to me who is the most capable, and I don’t make these choices lightly.”

Takahiro’s face twisted, but he didn’t dare speak up. He simply clenched his jaw and stared at the table.

“However,” Jungwon added, his voice taking on a more serious tone, “this isn’t set in stone. Things can change. Roles can shift depending on how well everyone performs from here on out. If anyone doesn’t meet expectations, if there are any issues, I won’t hesitate to pull you from the team or reassign your role in the case. This is a high-pressure situation, and I need the best from everyone involved.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Jungwon’s words settling over everyone. No one dared speak, but there was an undercurrent of discomfort.

Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly processing what Jungwon had said, but stayed silent.

You, on the other hand, felt a slight unease twist in your stomach. The uncertainty was there, if something went wrong, the roles could change at any moment. It wasn’t just about winning the case anymore. It was about proving yourself every step of the way.

Jungwon continued, his voice unwavering. “This will be a huge case—international, high-profile. We’ll be handling corporate giants, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. But, and this is important,” he emphasized, “this will be under Hastings’ orders. So, even though you two,” he gestured to you and Jay, “will be in the spotlight, don’t expect this to be a clear-cut win. Hastings will undermine everything he can, and we’ll have to fight harder than we’ve ever had to. Understand?”

Jay exhaled, his lips pressing together in frustration at the mention of Hastings, but he didn’t say anything.

Seojin, who had been quietly observing, couldn’t hold back her thoughts. “Of course,” she said in a mocking tone, her voice carrying across the room. “Jay and Y/N, always the favorites.”

Her words felt like an unwanted sting, and it wasn’t the first time she had said something like that. She leaned back in her chair, a smug look on her face, clearly enjoying the tension.

You shot her a glance but didn’t respond. Jay looked at you, a flicker of discomfort in his expression, but he kept his voice low. “They’re always going to think that. Don’t let it get to you.”

“Seems like you two always get the high-profile cases,” Minseok added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s new?”

Seojin chuckled softly, the sound almost too sweet to be sincere. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper, just loud enough for you and Jay to hear. “Guess it’s nice being the boss’s pets, huh?”

The quiet jab didn’t escape you, and the weight of it hung heavy in the air. Jay’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone neutral when he spoke next, his voice soft but clear enough for Seojin to hear. “People are always going to talk, Seojin. It’s how you handle it that matters.”

You couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of frustration. “We’ve worked just as hard as anyone else here,” you murmured under your breath, “and none of this was handed to us.”

“I’m sure you think that,” Seojin replied, her voice almost too sweet, “but the higher you climb, the harder it is to stay on top.”

Her words were like a cold jab, and you could feel the eyes of the room lingering on you. It wasn’t the first time they’d questioned your worth, but this time it felt different.

Jungwon didn’t acknowledge the whispers. His eyes scanned the room one more time, a small shift in his posture signaling the end of the conversation. “Now, as I said, everyone here will play a part. You all have a role to play, even if you’re not on the ground with us. Everyone will be involved in strategy, intel, resources. The case is bigger than just the people in Korea. But, make no mistake this is a performance-based team. I expect nothing less than excellence from everyone.”

He paused, letting that hang in the air for a moment. “And remember, things can change. No one’s role is guaranteed. If you want to stay on this team, if you want to be a part of this case, you have to prove yourself every day.”

The room was quiet, everyone now fully aware of the stakes. You felt the weight of Jungwon’s words, a quiet determination settling inside you. There was no turning back now.

Jay leaned closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper, “We’ve got this. Just don’t let them get in your head.”

You nodded, but a part of you couldn’t shake the tension. “We’ll see. Let’s just get through it.”

Seojin’s faint chuckle echoed in the background, but you ignored it. This was bigger than anything she could say. You had a case to win.

—————————————————————————————

The moment you stepped into your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. Jay followed close behind, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, while Jungwon entered last, his expression as calm and composed as ever. But underneath that cool exterior, you could sense something—a subtle tension that had been lingering ever since the meeting wrapped up.

You and Jay exchanged a glance, both of you picking up on it. You weren’t blind. The whispers from the room had followed you all the way here. Takahiro’s barely concealed grumbles, Seojin’s sharp comments, and the undercurrent of discontent from everyone who hadn’t been selected for the Korea case—it was all still fresh in the air.

And then it happened.

Jay let out a small snort, the tension finally breaking, and you couldn’t help it. You burst into laughter.

The sound of your laughter echoed through the apartment, and Jay joined in, both of you completely unable to stop. For a moment, the weight of the day, of the whispers, the resentment, and everything else, seemed to vanish.

“Did you see his face?” you wheezed, clutching your stomach as you leaned into Jay, who was just as gone as you were. “He looked like—like someone just told him his entire career was a lie!”

Jay, barely able to catch his breath between laughs, gasped out, “I thought— I thought he was gonna combust right then and there!”

Jungwon, who had been standing silently in the kitchen unpacking takeout, shook his head as he set down the bags. His voice was dry, but there was a hint of amusement in it. “You two are children,” he muttered.

That only made you and Jay laugh harder, the sound filling the space between you.

Jay wiped his eyes, still grinning from ear to ear. “No, but seriously, you—” he pointed at you, his voice cracking with laughter— “I swear I’ve never seen someone ruin another person’s entire day with just a few words. The way you slid that document to me like some secret weapon? Flawless.”

You rolled your eyes, but the small sense of pride flickered in your chest. “It was nothing,” you said, waving him off. “Just doing my job.”

Jungwon scoffed, finally giving in and taking a seat across from you. “If that’s what ‘just doing your job’ looks like, then I need more people like you at this firm.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze steady. “But seriously, Takahiro won’t forget this.”

Jay clicked his tongue, his grin widening. “Good. Maybe next time he’ll check his own damn evidence before trying to play dirty.”

You let out a content sigh, the adrenaline from earlier still lingering but now settling into something lighter. Being here, laughing like this, felt like the right antidote to the stress of the day.

Jungwon eyed the two of you, arms crossed. “By the way, you do realize we can’t exactly be seen eating out together, right?” His tone was casual, but there was that underlying reminder: public appearances mattered. “You know, considering… well, everything.”

You nodded, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Hence why my lovely home is your dining hall for the night.”

Jay smirked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tapping the table. “Wouldn’t want the firm to think Jungwon has favorites.”

Jungwon shot him a pointed look, and for a split second, you could swear there was a flicker of something soft in his eyes. “You are my favorites. That’s the problem.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, and the weight of his words settled in, unspoken but clear. No one at the firm knew how long you three had known each other. No one knew about the group you used to be a part of—before you moved to Japan, before you became a paralegal at one of the most prestigious firms in the city. A group that, at one point, included Jake.

Your smile faltered for just a second, the memory creeping in before you could stop it. You quickly shook it off, determined not to let it ruin the moment.

Jay noticed the shift immediately, his expression softening. He didn’t ask, didn’t pry he just reached over and stole one of your fries.

You blinked at him. “Excuse you?”

Jay popped the fry into his mouth without a care. “I’m comforting you. You’re welcome.”

Jungwon sighed, shaking his head as he opened his own food. “Unbelievable.”

But you didn’t let the weight of your thoughts drag you down. Not now. Not here. Right now, it was just you, Jay, and Jungwon in this moment, and that was enough.

For now.

—————————————————————————————

The sound of clinking dishes echoed through the apartment as Jay scrubbed away at the stack of plates. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a mixture of amusement and mild confusion.

“You didn’t have to do that, Jay,” you said with a chuckle. “I was going to clean them later.”

Jay shot you an exaggerated look. “Later? You’re just trying to pull that trick on me again. And here I am, stuck doing your dishes again.”

You smirked. “Maybe I’ll just leave them for you from now on. I’m sure you don’t mind. You’re always here anyway.”

Jay paused, hands stilling on the dishes as he looked at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, I’m starting to think I should just make a permanent spot here. Might as well bring my stuff, since I’m basically living here at this point.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Yeah, because it’s totally not weird to have your friend live here just because he eats all your food.”

Jay grinned back, completely unphased. “Hey, I cook too. It’s practically an arrangement. I bring the cooking skills, you bring the taste testing. A fair deal, if you ask me.”

Before you could respond, Jungwon entered the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. “What’s this I’m hearing about Jay moving in?” he asked, crossing his arms with a smirk.

You looked at Jay, who shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I mean, I’m already here half the time. Might as well make it official.”

You shot Jungwon a teasing look. “Maybe you should think about moving in too. You know, join the official team here.”

Jungwon chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll pass, thanks. I have enough of my own responsibilities, you know? But you two really make it sound like an actual living arrangement.”

Jay waved his hand dramatically. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. It’s a pretty sweet deal. Plus, it’s always nice having company after a long day. You should join us more often.”

You snorted, laughing at how easily Jay slipped into his usual charm. “Yeah, you’re so busy with all your important cases, Jungwon. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be here, hanging out and eating takeout.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. “I’m just saying, you guys seem to have your routine. But if I did move in, I’d probably have to take over the cooking. Jay would just end up burning everything.”

Jay threw him a playful glare. “Not true! My stir-fry is legendary, thank you very much.”

You snickered. “The same stir-fry that almost set off the smoke alarm?”

“I’m proud of that,” Jay said with a grin, clearly unbothered. “It’s called adding flavor to the process.”

Jungwon leaned against the counter with a chuckle. “You two are ridiculous.”

You looked between them, feeling the familiar ease of this banter. “Well, if Jay ever does end up moving in, I’m going to need a second fridge just for all the food he’s stealing.”

Jay shrugged with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, I’ll just bring my own fridge then. But it’ll be half mine, right?”

You both laughed, the playful mood lightening the air. Even Jungwon’s smile lingered a little longer than usual.

But then Jungwon, with a more thoughtful look, glanced between the two of you. “But seriously… I can’t remember the last time we all hung out like this, without worrying about something else. Seems like you two have this whole… routine now. Guess I miss that. Just… a bigger group, not as much on our plates.”

Jay didn’t miss a beat. “Well, you’re always invited, Jungwon. You know that. We just don’t want to drag you away from all your important work.”

Jungwon sighed softly, leaning back slightly. “I know. But I don’t know… there’s something nice about just being able to kick back, no responsibilities. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “You? Wanting to kick back? Since when?”

Jungwon’s smile was wistful as he shrugged. “I used to… a long time ago. Before everything got so complicated.”

Jay turned his attention back to drying the dishes, a little softer now. “I get it. We all do. But hey, you’re always welcome to join us anytime. We could use your sarcasm at the dinner table.”

You grinned, flicking Jay lightly on the shoulder. “And by using your sarcasm, he means he needs someone to compete with him in that department.”

Jungwon laughed lightly, his usual composure slipping just a bit. “Right, I’d be a perfect fit then.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the three of you as Jay finished drying the last plate. You leaned against the counter, watching them both. This—these small, fleeting moments of ease—was the kind of thing you all needed more of. Even if it was just the two of them sneaking into your kitchen and arguing over who made the best stir-fry. It was enough.

—————————————————————————————

After a while, the conversation slowly died down, the kitchen quiet except for the faint sounds of utensils clinking and the soft hum of the refrigerator. You leaned against the counter, feeling that familiar sense of distance between you and the others, the kind you hadn’t noticed until now. It wasn’t just the space between you and Jay or Jungwon—it was the way things had changed. You hadn’t really spent time like this in a while, without distractions, without the weight of everything else hanging over you.

You hesitated, trying to push the feeling of loneliness away, but it was hard to ignore. “Hey… you guys wanna sleep over tonight?”

Jay raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto his face. “A sleepover? What, you’re tired of your own company?”

You chuckled, but there was a subtle nervousness behind the smile. “No, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kinda distant lately. Like, we’ve all been so busy and it’s been a while since we just hung out. So, I thought… why not?”

Jungwon’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and to your surprise, he didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I’d like that. I miss this. I miss you guys.” His voice was a little quieter than usual, the weight of his words hitting you in a way you weren’t expecting.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden openness from him. “Really? You’re up for it?”

Jungwon gave you a small but genuine smile. “Yeah. It’s been too long. I think we could all use some time to just… be.”

Jay nodded in agreement. “I’ll admit, I’ve missed these kinds of nights. Just hanging out, no work or anything else to worry about.”

You smiled, relieved by their response. It felt good to know that even if things had been complicated lately, they were still willing to share this space with you.

“Well, I’m glad you guys are up for it,” you said with a grin. “But fair warning—if you’re staying over, I do have extra pajamas you can wear.” You paused before continuing, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “They’re… well, they’re Jake’s. I never threw his stuff out.”

There was a brief moment of silence as both Jay and Jungwon exchanged a confused look. “Jake’s stuff?” Jay repeated, eyebrow raised. “Like, Jake Jake?”

You nodded, trying to keep your voice light despite the unexpected tension that filled the air for just a second. “Yeah, I mean, I couldn’t really bring myself to throw out his stuff after he left. Don’t judge, okay? I was feeling sentimental.”

Jungwon chuckled softly, though there was a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “I mean, we all have our things we hold onto, right? It’s no big deal.”

Jay, surprisingly, didn’t press further either, just letting out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I guess I can’t judge. I’m still wearing the same hoodie I’ve had since… forever.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders at their nonjudgmental responses. They didn’t push you for more, just moved on like it was nothing. The space between the three of you felt comfortable again.

“Well, anyway,” you said, trying to change the subject, “I’ll go grab the pajamas. You two figure out who’s sleeping where. I’m not fighting over the couch this time.”

Jungwon smiled, his usual calm demeanor back. “Deal. But if I end up on the floor, I’m blaming you.”

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in.

Maybe things weren’t how they used to be, but for now, with Jay and Jungwon there, it was like you had found your way back to something that resembled normal.

Or that was until your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your daydreaming. Glancing down at the notification, you saw the familiar name flash across the screen: Heeseung.

A sharp pang of discomfort hit you. The subject line read: Wedding Invitation – Heeseung & Hana. You felt your stomach churn, and for a moment, you thought about ignoring it. But curiosity and maybe a little bit of the old, unresolved pain made you click.

The message was brief, almost to the point of being impersonal.

Please feel free to bring a plus one. No hard feelings about the guest list, but I’ve had to limit the invitations.

You stared at the words, the meaning behind them settling into your bones like cold stone. You weren’t expecting to be invited, but somehow, it still stung. The lack of warmth, the formality, the clear divide between what once was and what now felt so distant—it all came rushing back.

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Thanks for reading till the end ☺️ feel free to lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

taglist: @belovedsthings @addictedtohobi @blujk @sumzysworld

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[jillsandwhichs]

Warm winter night

Chapter 9 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You & Joel get snowed in your home due to a snow storm. While you're more upset about it, Joel takes advantage of the time you two have together

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Married

WC: 2.7k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Spanking, Hair pulling, Oral (F receives), Overstimulation, Unprotected P in V, Doggy style, Clit rubbing, He finishes in you & A bit of aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"I can't believe we're snowed in." You exclaimed with annoyance. This isn't convenient at all, it is a massive bother. You had plans for this evening. You wanted to do some last minute grocery shopping and stop by the bank before it closes but of course, mother nature has to work against you per usual. Your husband, Joel, looked up from his book and watched as you paced from the sliding door to the living room, where he was sat.

The fireplace was going and it's crackling was satisfying but also a plain reminder of the fact it is Winter time - hence why you two are snowed in. You thought you two moving to Wyoming would be good but you completely discounted the fact snow would end up being an issue. You plopped down on the couch with a groan, arms crossed & your face pouty.

Joel was indulged in his book but he looked away from it, gazing at you. "Is the princess okay?" He teased and smirked at you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "No," you fixed your position, now sitting crisscross on the couch, "I am irritated." "So I can see." Joel snickered and closed his book, setting it on the end table and reverting his attention to fully focus on you.

There was just a lot you wanted to get done today and now all you'll be able to think about is the fact you won't be able to do any of it. You sighed deeply and glanced over at your husband who was already looking at you. "We won't even be able to order dinner tonight." You whined. "I'll have to cook." He laughed at you and pulled you into his arms, the two of you now laying together on the couch. "You let me handle dinner tonight, alright?" It's so sexy when he takes charge. "Ok baby." You responded.

Joel began to gently caress your legs, massaging them and getting you relaxed rather quickly. "You just need to relax babygirl, enough with the worryin'." Joel stated in a stern way to you. He isn't necessarily wrong. You can't help it. "I know," You nodded and let out a deep breath you felt you'd been holding in. "I love to just be in charge and get things done." "Trust me, I know." Joel snickered and was now massaging your feet firmly, getting out all the pressure and knots.

"It's nice like this though, you've gotta admit darlin'." "What exactly are you referring to?" "Us being snowed in together. Better than us bein' apart, yeah?" You smiled at his words and nodded. "You are right babe." There's no other person you'd rather be stuck with than your husband. Being with him is heaven's official blessing. "Ugh, it hurts." You referred to him pushing on your feet, trying to release the tension buried within them. "Oh hush it." He huffed out.

After he was finished with your feet, he let them go and gandered over at you. You looked into his eyes and sat up, laying back in his arms as you were just moments ago. He held you close and kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing up and down on your upper arm, calming you easily. "What's got you in such a mood?" You broke out into a laugh before glancing up at him, getting a close glance at his handsome, rugged face. "Nothin'. Can I not love up on my wife? Since when is that a crime baby?"

Oh Joel and his theatrics.

You giggled and kissed his chin, his scruff scraping against your lips. "Nothing is wrong with that, I was just curious." You snorted and placed your hand on his chest. It was rising up and down at a pace in which was comforting for you to feel. His heart was beating a bit quicker than usual but that's normal from time to time. Joel leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you lovingly. Anytime the two of you kiss it is as if sparks fly. It's your most favorite thing to do.

As the two of you kissed more, his hands swiftly moved to your waist, holding it. As he held you, you felt his fingers dig into your skin, earning a slight but evident moan out of you. "Joel," You stuttered, his hands now trailing down to your ass where he then squeezed it and left a vibrant spank on it. You giggled and as you did, he took his chance to slither his tongue into your mouth, kissing you more passionately now.

He pulled you into his lap and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as much as you could. His lips are soft and are exactly what you need. "Baby," You giggled, pulling away and resting your arms on his shoulders. "Hm?" He mumbled. "You're so hard," You gawked, being able to feel his dick beneath you - it is practically begging to be inside of you. "Can't help myself baby." Joel said simply before kissing you again.

As you two made out more, his hands went to the end of your tank top before he then removed it. You weren't wearing a bra beneath it, so your breasts came out, free and in need. Joel's mouth was basically watering before he latched onto one of your nipples, suckling on it with pressure and force that couldn't be matched. This was all escalating so fast but you didn't mind. Now all you wanted was Joel - and that cock of his.

Your hands ran erratically through his brown, messy hair as he went back and fourth between both of your tits, sucking on both and ensuring your arousal. You could feel a pool of wetness becoming of in your panties and it's yearning for Joel's touch. "Fuck babe." You moaned as he popped your nipple out of his mouth with a snicker. "I love doin' that to ya sweet girl." "Clearly." You panted, glancing down at your boobs which now had a glistening coat on them from where he was sucking.

You took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. You shivered from the cold but you ignore it as best as you can, knowing you'll be very warm here shortly. You are wet. It's crazy how easily Joel turns you on. He's hard, very hard, you can feel it between your legs pressing against you. You cannot wait to have him inside of you, fucking you as hard as he possibly can.

His chest pressed up against yours, your boobs meshing to meet his chest. "I want you." You moaned in between kisses. You are practically begging for him at this point. "I want you baby, and I'm gonna take ya." He then lifted you up into his arms. You giggled and held onto him. He was walking over towards your guy's shared bedroom. You figured the two of you were just going to make love on the couch but he clearly has a different plan in mind.

Joel tossed you onto the bed and you laughed, loving how rough he can be with you sometimes. You watched he pulled his brown leather belt out through the loops of his jeans and dropped it onto the along with said jeans. His boxers were still on as he climbed onto the bed, kissing you in a rushed manner, backing you onto the bed. Your head hit the pillow with a *ploof* noise and you slid your tongue into his wet, warm mouth once again.

You encased your arms around his neck, pulling him closer against you. As you two made out, you felt his hands amble down to your shorts where he then pulled them off along with your panties. You shivered due to the cold air hitting your pale body and he held you close, wanting you to feel safe and warm. "I'm goin' make a mess outta you." Joel murmured against your ear as he began to kiss and nibble it, traversing down to your neck.

His words and his touch... Oh they are immaculate. You laid comfortably against the pillow and fully gave yourself to Joel; He is free to do whatever he pleases with you and your body. His kisses went from your neck and suddenly down to your stomach where he took his sweet time. Those kisses he leaves on you were quick to relax you and have you ready for him. At this point, you can feel yourself pulsing with need and hunger for this man.

His fingers went from being pressed into your thigh to know going to your pussy where he stuck his index in your folds, feeling how wet you are. "Fuck sakes," Joel whispered, taking his finger up to his mouth and tasting you as if you were an appetizer before his grand meal, "So wet for me, hm?" He said with a cocky tone. "Baby, just please, do it already, I want you." You begged for him to just please you, to make you cum. It's all you want right now.

Joel chuckled and nodded. "Shh babygirl, don't worry, you're going to get exactly what you want." Whenever he says that, he isn't lying. Joel is the one man in this whole wide world who knows how to please you just right. He kissed more down your stomach until he reached your pussy. You were shaking at this point, shaking with need. All you want is for him to touch you, to please you in any way. "Oh," you moaned out as he started to kiss and bite on your inner thighs.

This process was slow, Joel knows it is. He takes him time with you, making you all wet and ready for him. He'll act as if he's going to finally start eating you out, then he'll pull away to kiss your lips or to nibble on your thighs. It's frustrating and that is exactly why Joel does it. "Fuck, please, just do it." You squeezed your thighs around his head, forcing him to stay in his place. This earned a giggle out of him before he then pulled your thighs off of his head and immediately began to lap at you relentlessly.

Now this is it. He'll make you cum over... And over... And over again, overstimulation at its finest. "Joel! Oh, holy fuck." You moaned out loudly as his tongue worked absolute wonders on you, making you squirm and causing your legs to shake like crazy. "Just like that... Oh..." You sighed softly, loving how fast and delicate he is with you. "Taste so damn good." Joel managed to mumble out in between suckles & licks.

He teased your clit repeatedly. Over and over again, he lapped and it and would wrap his lips around it, sucking it right up. It's too much. It feels so good. Your stomach is doing all sorts of flips & tricks currently. Your legs are shaking from the pleasure and before you know it, you'll be cumming on his face, just how he likes it. "Joel..." You panted out as he just continued to please you. Now it's becoming too much.

"I'm gonna cum." "Oh yeah? Cum for me darlin'." Joel stated in that low, deep, sexy tone to you. You love when he does that. "Oh fuck!" Your body then shook due to your orgasm as he rubbed your clit and licked at your tight, little hole. Vibrations and waves of pleasure coursed through your body like never before. "Okay, okay, fuck." You don't even know what you're saying, you aren't even in reality anymore.

He didn't stop. His thumb rubbed your clit as fast as it could go and his tongue was moving swiftly along your dripping cunt. You knew he'd do this. It's too much, too fucking much. "Baby!" You squealed as he kept it up. It was only becoming more and more intense. You seriously feel another climax overcoming you. "C'mon baby, you handle it, I know you can." Joel whispered to you. Well when he puts it that way, how can you deny him the pleasure of seeing you this way?

You know he loves watching you unfold under his touch. He gets off on it like he's some sort of a sadist. It's sexy, honestly. "You can do it baby, just take it." He egged you on. You moaned as he continued to rub your clit with haste and suckle all over your cunt - not a single crevice was left unlicked. "Doin' so well." The way he praises you... It's so attractive. No matter how much he does it, you still love it all the same.

Just a bit longer and you came again. You felt your fluids dripping down your inner thighs and onto your guy's bed. You don't even care, you are too blinded by lust and need to care. Joel chuckled and kissed your clit gently before finally pulling away. "Made you cum twice... How about a third?" He then flipped you onto your stomach and lifted your ass up to meet his pelvic area. He brought his palm down and gave it a proud smack, earning a squeal out of you.

Joel pulled down his boxers and his erect cock hit your ass. You could tell he is insanely horny, just as you are. "Look at how hard you got me babygirl. You did this." He squeezed your rear end and then kissed it (He's an ass guy). You giggled and bit your lip. "And I don't regret a damn thing." You whispered to him. He scoffed out a laugh before suddenly slipping his dick inside of you, pushing himself as deep into you as he could.

You knew you'd get a rise out of him, and that's exactly why you said it.

Your pussy is still sensitive but he continued nonetheless. His thrusts and pounds into you were relentlessly, just as his wet tounge was. He's big, so very big. Each time he moves into you, it's heaven on Earth. "Talk like that again, see what happens." Joel grunted out as he pushed himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot before pulling back, only to repeat this sensual process.

"You heard me Joel," You moaned out as his sudden pick up of pace, "I don't regret a thing. I love knowing that I do infact have some control over you." You giggled out. Joel scoffed and immediately snatched your hair up into his hand, pulling on it roughly as he slammed into you at a harder rate. "You don't have any fuckin' control over me, remember that." Oh you will.

Your mouth was agape as he fucked you, your hair being pulled and your pussy being destroyed. Joel can handle you, oh yes he can. "You're a funny girl sweetheart, to think that way." He then leaned down and kissed you. It was sloppy but meaningful. A string of spit appeared between both of your guy's mouth before he kissed you again and abruptly pulled away.

Your legs began to wobble and you could hardly hold yourself up. You felt your legs completely giving out beneath you. "No," He pulled your legs back up, "Stay in your fucking place." He ordered, which only made you turned on further. It's safe to say you love when Joel is in control. "I'm gonna cum soon, just stay put baby." He practically pleaded with you. You simply smiled.

His hands grip was now tighter and his other hand moved away from your hip to spank you. When he did that, it was ultimately your undoing.

Your body shook and you suddenly felt his hand swerve between your legs. He rubbed your clit as you came which caused your walls to clench around him furthermore, helping him bust deep inside of you. "Good fuckin' Lord, good girl." Joel whispered as he came inside of you, his semen seeping out of your hole slightly. You whined and held onto the sheets beneath you for support.

Eventually, Joel pulled out of you. He picked you up into his arms as if you were a ragdoll and he held you close. There is nothing more intimate than aftercare. He kissed the top of your sweaty hair and caressed your flushed cheeks. "You okay dear?" He asked you in a subtle whisper. "I am." You reassured him before kissing his cheek and clinging to him as if you are a spider monkey.

Joel snickered and patted your ass, standing up and holding you close. "Want me to run us a bath? Then I'll cook dinner and we can watch that stupid ass show you've been into." You laughed at his description of the show you've been watching and you nodded. "Yes please, I would love that."

You really would.

[puma-riki]

No One Noticed...

Warnings: consistent cursing, kms/kys jokes, [Subject to change every chapter]

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist (open!): @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove @yangjungwonnie @luluvhs @nikiswifiee @kingofthekards @skepvids @sammie217 @sh0dor1 @sirens-dreams @starfallia @polarisjisung @minhosimthings @mochiwonz @jiiyen @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @ritzy-dream-boy @roseangelxfuma @sugarikiz @stvrriki @eczlipse @ddolleri @dangerousgardenchild @roarr-ki @rikidaze @rinoosformstellation @domfikeluva @b0os-jellfyfish @wensurr @melancholy-z @brinethebean @sol3chu @luvjichang @aerijns @bananna-12 @jungwonsjellies @sumzysworld @right-person-wrong-time @rikikiynikilcykiki @pjselee @maniluvzyou @jungwonswife-real @annybah @flaminghotyourmom @vvenusoncasual @pookalicious-hq @jaykehoonist @raven-odyssey @rodelalaland @planetmarlowe @joonsprettygf

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IGNORE TIME STAMPS !!

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Authors Note: Heyyyy guysss... Again, so sorry this took so long, shit hit the fan and I couldn't find the time to sit down and write this chapter sooner [cry] BUT she's here now! I listened to Don't Let Me Go by Cigarettes After Sex on loop while writing this and I think you should do the same while reading cuz... whew! also, I did not proofread this I just skimmed it... Anyway enjoy!!!!!

32. I'm Gonna Eat him + written (wc:3.5k)

You would think the world would have some mercy as you near the end of your shift. It's dark outside despite it only being 5p.m. You finished breaking your back mopping up the floors that will probably end up being sticky again by morning. Most of the dishes are washed, and there are only a few customers loitering around.

All in all, the worst part of the day was done. You could return home in the freezing cold and rest your weary limbs in 30 minutes.

Wrong!

The bell above the door chimes, and in walks an old lady with the specific kind of energy that immediately sets everyone on edge. The type that scans the room with barely concealed judgment, lips already pursed, eyes already searching for something to complain about.

It starts with the menu, after she, of course, ignored your polite "Hi, how are you?", Why don't you have this? Why is this so expensive? Then the drink, which is somehow both too sweet and not sweet enough. Then the table she waits at has invisible crumbs that she makes a show of brushing off in disgust.

A typical textbook petty customer who seems to have the need to share their bitterness with everyone else. It's easy to let her disgust and attitude roll off your back. So, you nod, you apologize, you fix things. You do what you're supposed to do.

But then, as you're finally sliding her drink across the counter so she can get the hell out of here and you can continue closing the cafe in peace, her words came through sharp and careless.

"No wonder this place is a mess if you're in charge."

It really shouldn't get to you. It shouldn't.

You've heard worse. You don't even know the woman and she doesn't know you.

But something about today- the exhaustion, the stress, the weight of it all pressing against your chest- makes that one off handed remark feel like a punch to the gut.

You don't react though. You never do. Just swallow, steady your breath, and carry on.

You make it through the rest of your shift. You wipe down the counters one last time, stack the chairs, lock the register, shut off the lights, double check the espresso machine is off. You go through the motions like you always do.

Jungwon, Soul, and Eunchae hover by the door as you gather your things. They've been acting weird all shift- quiet and hesitant. You caught Jungwon looking at you a couple times, but the second you glance over, he pretends he wasn't.

Soul has just been watching. His usual sharp-edged humor is absent today, replaced by something softer. Pity or maybe concern.

Eunchae is worse. She just straight-up stares. Long, drawn-out looks like she's waiting for you to say something, except you have no idea what.

They all look dejected, staring at you as you walk to the door. A lot like puppies in a pet store window. It makes you feel guilty.

And it's a bit unsettling.

You would very much like to clear this weird tension between all of you, but you're too tired and too drained to figure out how to right now.

So, when Jungwon finally says, "See you next week?" and Eunchae echos a hesitant, "Yeah, see you," You just nod, your voice flat when you reply, "Yeah." The pair then turns and leaves first

Soul lingers for half a second longer, "Get home safe."

Then you step outside and part ways, the cold night air hits you like a slap, and the door clicks shut behind you.

The only sound outside is from the traffic in the street in front of you as you look up at the blank night sky. There are no stars or moon out, not much to look at. But you know if you were to look down your watery eyes would spill over. You feel your throat tighten despite trying to swallow so it'll go away.

Eventually, your eyes can't hold any more tears, and fat tears quietly rush down your face. Maybe you can let yourself feel bad just this once. Standing by yourself and crying silently does make you feel a bit better, it's nostalgic in a way. The familiar company of loneliness wraps around your heart and gives it a squeeze, as if to say 'Oh, I've missed you so.' Although you can't return the sentiment, at least you still have a bit of normalcy to cling to in your life.

A slow breath leaves your lips and swirls in the cold air in front of you. Just as your debating if you should stay and wallow for a few minutes or go home. a sudden grasp on your waist makes you jolt and nearly fly out of your skin.

"Boo."

You stumble forward before sharply turning around at the familiar voice. Ni-ki stands in front of you with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his puffer jacket, grinning like he just pulled off the greatest prank of his life. Relief floods through you before annoyance can.

You let out a sharp breath, "You-" You hurriedly raise your hand to your face to wipe your tears. "Seriously? What are you doing here?" You're embarrassed by how hoarse your voice sounds

Ni-ki's grin falters. His eyes flicker over your face, his posture shifting from playful to something softer. His voice loses its usual teasing edge when he says," I thought I'd give you a ride home since it's cold. What's wrong?"

You sniffle, looking away. "It's nothing"

Ni-ki takes a step closer, "It's not nothing if it's making you cry. Come on, tell me."

You take a step back; your tears have stopped flowing for now as you wipe the last bit of wetness from your cheeks. "It's a bunch of stuff... I- I don't know."

He takes a step forward, catching you by the sleeve of your jacket. "I've got time," Your face feels hot despite the chill. You look up at him for a fraction of a second, but even that feels too long as he's practically drinking you in with his eyes.

"Please?" He says it so softly that your knees almost give out under you. You convince yourself for now that it's because you haven't sat down for more than 20 minutes today.

You're also convinced that the boy in front of you has hypnotized you in some way because you sigh and let your arms fall down to your sides, still embarrassed, and frustrated, you've been caught crying.

You press the cold back of your hands against your cheeks, sniffling again. "It's just... it was a long day, and-" You hesitate, your thoughts still tangled together. You glance up at Ni-ki again. His hand has moved from your sleeve to the hem of your jacket like he's afraid you'll slip right through his fingers. The streetlight behind you reflects in his eyes and the weight of his gaze that is solely on you, makes you nervous.

"And... There was this customer that came in— and she was so mean, and usually, I don't care. Like why would I care? What does she even know."

The whole thing sounds stupid now coming out of your mouth. You feel your throat tighten up again and your eyes start to sting.

"But— it's not even about that. Or— I don't know, maybe it was, but- I think it was just— everything" Your tears are falling freely now, you've found one spot on the sidewalk behind him that you're set on staring at. You feel too humiliated now as you're basically ugly crying in front of Ni-ki now.

"I had so much homework to do, and I finished it— at least I think I did? I feel like I can't remember anything right. And I still have to study. And I have exams in less than a week, and I'm running on like two hours of sleep because I stayed up all night trying to take a load of homework off. I also couldn't eat today because I was so busy. And then—"

A sob cuts you off and a gust of wind blows between the two of you and whips your hair onto your tear-stained and snot-covered face. Ni-ki is faster than you to move it out of the way. Tucking it behind your ears and wiping his thumb ever so gently under your eye.

"And then?" He asks, his eyebrows are scrunched but his eyes are glossed over, almost like he's about to cry too.

You suck in a sharp breath, trying to regain your composure.

"And then work," Your voice cracking. "There was this whole thing with Ricky— He was like promoting his stupid music outside and it was so bad he was driving customers away. Keeho told us to deal with it but we spent too much time messing around trying to figure out who should tell him to leave— And- and the whole thing escalated and Keeho had to step in and he was upset that we didn't do anything so we all got in trouble and things got all weird— Jungwon and Eunchae got mad at each other and then got mad at me and Soul. And-" You're rambling now as you continue explaining through tears and sniffles how Keeho was upset and has now assigned a shift as a manager to everyone.

And then, in the middle of your breakdown, you remember.

"Oh my god, and—" You groan, pressing your hands into your face. "And my mom— She keeps asking me to invite you and the others to this dumb friendsmas dinner at my house for winter break"

Ni-ki blinks. "She what?"

You sniffle aggressively. "Exactly! I was already stressed out, and she kept texting me asking if I had asked you guys after I already told her I didn't think you would be into that— but she just kept asking I know she was just excited but I was getting annoyed with everything else— and I snapped at her and told her to stop asking me and now I feel like a terrible daughter on top of everything else."

Your voice begins to give out on you as your throat tightens up again. The tears still flow faster than Ni-ki can wipe them away. He gives up and pulls you into a hug instead.

And for a second, he can’t even breathe.

Because he’s never held you like this before—has never felt how small you are in his arms, how fragile you feel when your shoulders shake against him. And it makes him ache.

Because you’ve been carrying all of this alone. Because you didn’t tell him, or anyone, that you’ve been running on fumes. Because you’re standing here, falling apart in his arms, and all he can do is hold you tighter and try to will all of your exhaustion and stress into himself.

He swallows hard. He wants to say something, but nothing feels right. What could he possibly say to fix this?

So instead, he presses his chin against the top of your head and whispers, "That’s a lot, huh?"

And when you nod against his chest, clutching the back of his jacket, he holds you closer and quietly wishes he could make the whole world kinder to you.

Minutes pass, your breathing slowly evening out, and when the silence settles between you, Ni-ki finally speaks.

“Okay,” he says simply, voice softer than usual.

You sniffle, pulling away slightly to look at him. "Okay?"

“Okay,” he repeats, like he’s made a decision in his head. He lifts his hands, gently swiping away the dampness under your eyes with his thumbs. “You had a long day, right?”

You blink at him, still trying to gather your thoughts. "...Yeah?"

“And you didn’t eat.”

You shake your head.

Ni-ki tilts his head toward the street, his usual grin creeping back onto his face. “Come get food with me.”

You hesitate. “Ni-ki—”

“Nope,” he cuts you off, gently flicking your forehead. “I’m not letting you go home and cry yourself to sleep on an empty stomach.”

A small, watery laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve, sniffling. “I probably look awful right now.”

Ni-ki just shrugs, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re a pretty crier.”

You huff out a disbelieving breath. “Don’t lie.” You smack his arm, the touch fleeting, but Ni-ki barely reacts—just grins and starts walking, his fingers curling briefly around your sleeve as if to check that you're following.

“Would I lie to you?” he teases.

“Yes,” you deadpan, but you take a step after him anyway.

He laughs, grabbing your sleeve and tugging you toward the sidewalk. “Come on. Let’s go before you start crying again.”

As they got back into the car after dinner, Ni-ki barely had time to buckle his seatbelt before noticing your head start to tip forward. You caught yourself just before your forehead hit the window, jerking upright with a sharp inhale.

"Whoa," Ni-ki said, biting back a grin. "That was almost really embarrassing for you."

You groaned, rubbing your face. "I wasn’t falling asleep."

"Yeah? Then what were you doing? Praying?"

You let out a half-hearted scoff and leaned back, closing your eyes for just a second. Ni-ki glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, something about the sight of you sitting there—soft, full from dinner, barely fighting off sleep—making his chest feel weirdly light. You never let yourself slow down like this. And now, here you were, practically dozing off in his car of all places. It felt… intimate.

He cleared his throat, looking at the gas gauge, and then, because he couldn't help himself—

"Oh nooo, [Name]. Look." He exaggerated a frown, shaking his head. "We only have enough gas to make it to my place. Guess you have to stay the night."

Your eyes blinked open, moving straight to the gauge, where the needle sat nowhere near empty. Slowly, you turned your head to look at him, unimpressed.

"Riki," you deadpanned.

He immediately slapped a hand over the gauge. "It literally says almost empty right here."

"You are so full of shit."

"Okay, but think about it," he argued, undeterred. "You’re exhausted. You’re literally swaying in your seat right now."

"I’m not swaying."

"You are. And wouldn’t it be way easier to just crash at mine instead of trying to make it home half-dead?"

"I don't have any clothes or anything with me."

"You can borrow mine."

You hesitated, exhaling slowly. He could see the argument forming in your head, could see you weighing your options—your usual stubborn independence against the undeniable exhaustion pulling at your limbs.

You sighed, "I should say no."

"But you won’t," Ni-ki said confidently.

You shot him a tired glare, then, after a long pause—

"...Fine," you muttered, half-smiling. "But only because I don’t want to hear you whine about it.

His grin stretched wide. "Cool. Beware though, Heeseung sleepwalks sometimes."

You rolled your eyes, but there was something softer about it this time.

As he pulled onto the road, you shifted in your seat, letting your body relax, head tilting slightly toward the window. Ni-ki watched as your breathing evened out, the tension you always carried finally melting away.

You had let yourself rest. With him.

After he had pulled into the parking lot of his apartment, he gently shook you awake and helped you up to his apartment. You clung to his arm most of the way, not entirely in control of your drowsy body.

Not that Riki minded, of course.

He led you to his room, flicking on the light as you entered. It was clean but lived-in—posters, stray hoodies draped over his desk chair, a few knickknacks scattered around. He rummaged through his drawers and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and one of his oversized shirts.

“Here,” he said, handing them over. “It’ll be way more comfortable than what you have on.”

You hesitated, looking down at the clothes in your hands. “Are you sure?”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “No, actually, I want my guest to suffer and sleep in jeans.”

You scoffed but were too tired to argue further. He gestured toward the bathroom. “You can change in there. I’ll get some water.”

You nodded and shuffled off, while he grabbed two glasses from the kitchen, taking a moment to let the reality of the night settle in. It was so casual, but somehow it felt different—like a quiet kind of trust.

As he filled the glasses with water, his mind wandered back to what you said earlier. About your mom and Christmas dinner.

"She kept texting me asking if I had asked you guys after I already told her I didn't think you would be into that"

If your mom had been asking about him and the others, then… did you talk about them to her? About him? The thought made something tighten in his chest.

And why did you think they wouldn’t want to come over? Had he ever made you feel like you couldn’t ask? Like he wouldn’t want to spend time with you outside of university?

A flicker of guilt crept in as he set the water jug down. He tried to think back—had he ever brushed you off when you talked about your home life? Had he made some stupid comment about hating holiday gatherings?

He didn’t know why it unsettled him so much, but the thought of you assuming he wouldn’t want to be there, with you, didn’t sit right.

He had wanted to ask you about it earlier, but that didn't seem like a good idea when you were crying in his arms.

But maybe now was.

As Ni-ki picked up the glasses of water, he exhaled through his nose, steadying himself. He wasn’t even sure why this was nagging at him so much, but the longer he thought about it, the more restless he felt. It wasn’t just about Christmas dinner—it was the fact that you hadn’t even considered asking.

He turned off the kitchen light with his elbow and started down the hall, feeling the cool condensation of the glasses against his fingers. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe you just assumed they’d be too busy. But no, that wasn’t how you said it.

"I didn’t think you would be into that."

That phrasing stuck in his head, looping over and over.

He thought about the way you had looked earlier, voice tight with exhaustion, stress pressing down on you from every direction. He hadn’t wanted to make things worse by digging into it then, but now that you’d eaten, now that you were here in his space, safe and warm, maybe he could just—casually—ask. Not push, just... understand.

He swallowed, licking his lips as he nudged his door open with his arm, rehearsing the words in his head. So, about earlier—

And then, his breath caught.

You were asleep.

The room was dim, lit only by the streetlights seeping through the curtains, casting soft shadows across your face. His bed wasn’t made properly—he never really bothered with that—but you had curled up on top of the blankets anyway, nestled into the pillows like they belonged to you. His shirt, the one he gave you to change into, draped loosely over your frame, too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands where they clutched the fabric near your chest.

Ni-ki stood frozen in the doorway, glasses still in his hands, as a strange feeling settled over him.

You looked… breathtaking.

His fingers tightened slightly around the glasses, and he forced himself to breathe, to move.

Quietly, he crossed the room, setting the water down on his nightstand. He hesitated before reaching for the spare pillow, planning to take it to the floor. But as he leaned over you, his hand brushing against the fabric—

You shifted.

A small sigh escaped you, barely audible, and then—before he could even react—you moved closer, your head resting lightly on his hand where it had been gripping the pillow.

His heart stuttered.

For a second, he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. The warmth of your skin against his sent an unfamiliar thrill up his spine, and he had the irrational thought that if he moved too quickly, you might wake up and pull away.

And for some reason, he didn’t want you to.

Swallowing hard, Ni-ki slowly, carefully, shifted onto his knees beside the bed. He could feel the faint rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lashes fluttered just slightly, lost in whatever dream had claimed you.

That conversation—about your mom, about Christmas—could wait.

For now, he just sat there, watching over you in the quiet of his room, letting the moment stretch longer than it probably should.

Now how was he going to get out of this.

Shit.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 8

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,355ish

Summary: Everyone is ready to increase the safety around you.

Warning(s): panic attack

Notes: Please send in reactions!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Tony sat at the island in the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him and a cup in hand. His mind was focused on the earlier confrontations with Steve and Rhodey. Both of them were right, you clearly didn’t want this anymore than he did. And it’s not like you had done anything to him in the last while since your wedding. Maybe he could try a little harder to at least be your friend.

Throwing back the rest of his drink, Tony got up and went to his bedroom. Pepper had yet to arrive and he was glad, he wasn’t in the mood. He sent her a quick text, telling her not to come over before clasping onto the bed. How would he begin to fix this? To at least be friends with you? 

There was also the gnawing feeling that Tony had about what you had gone through and, apparently, are still going through. If things were happening that you didn’t want, why didn't you say anything? Though… he guested that was your whole life. You had never had any control over any part of it. Maybe he could start by giving you some more control. How Tony was going to do that, he didn’t know.

~~~

In the morning, you slipped out of your room, grabbed a bunch of snacks, and headed for your studio. You needed to get out of your head. You turned on an instrumental playlist before you got to work. 

Steve heard the music as he headed into the house. He smiled, hopeful that you were doing better today. Before going to Tony, Steve headed to your studio. He knocked before peeking his head in.

“Y/N?” He carefully called.

You looked over from where you were painting and gave him a small smile. “Hey, Steve.”

“I know I’m intruding on your space, but I came to check on you.”

You looked back at the ashtray you were painting, sucking in your lip. “I’m fine.”

Steve stepped into the room and classed the door behind him. He took a few steps closer, not wanting to pressure you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, not looking at him.

He sighed. “Well, I’m going to keep checking in throughout the day. Okay?”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure you have things to handle with Tony.”

“I have time for you, too. You keep working and I’ll be back later. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

Steve shot your one last smile before leaving your studio and heading across the house to Tony’s office. He entered to see Tony already busy at his desk.

“Good, you’re here,” Tony said. “I need you to send these files over to Rhodey and Natasha to look over.”

“Uh, can I ask what they are looking over these for?” Steve asked, taking the files.

“A bodyguard for Y/N.”

“What? You’re searching for a bodyguard?”

“She needs her own. You have enough on your hands with me. I had some names already listed but I want Rhodey and Natasha to look over them. Then I want the three of you to do the interviews and then I will meet with the final candidate before they are hired.”

“Okay. I can get these sent over. I’ll tell them that they have until the end of the week.”

“They have until the end of tomorrow to give me a name. We’ve pushed this aside long enough.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll have Happy take these over right away.”

~~~

Steve stopped by a few times to check on you until eventually, just after lunch, he ended up sitting down and painting with you.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked again after tying an apron on. 

“I don’t need all these pieces, Steve,” you responded. “Please just choose something and paint it.”

“Okay, okay. Fine, I’ll paint this.” 

Steve picked up one of the bowls sitting on the counter. He came over and sat down across from you. Taking a pencil from the table, Steve began sketching on the bowl. You watched as he seemingly created a pattern with ease.

“Do you draw, Steve?” You questioned.

“Something like that,” he shrugged. 

“What do you like to draw?”

He shook his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Peggy. I like to draw Peggy.”

“Oh. Are you two…”

“We… well, we haven’t made anything official, but I guess we’re a couple.”

“You two make a great couple.”

“Thanks. I think I’m going to give this to her, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is, Steve.”

The two of you fell into an easy silence. You were grateful with how easy Steve was to be around. He never pressured you into anything, never forced himself upon you. It was different and, honestly, hard to believe that a man could do that.

~~~

“Steve!” Tony called, exiting his office. “Steve!” He looked around for his bodyguard, unable to see him. “Rogers!”

His brows furrowed when the sound of laughter hit his ears. It was coming from your studio, the door not completely shut. Tony walked over and peeked in. You and Steve were sitting across from each other, painting, and laughing. Tony realized that that was probably the first time he had ever seen or heard you laugh. You seemed so relaxed and at ease, forcing Tony to notice how often you were tense. You were always so timid, tense, and nervous. Perhaps the others were right to be concerned… something had happened to make you that way.

Tony pushed the door open but remained standing outside the studio. Your head snapped towards the door and you froze, nervous as to what Tony could possibly be doing. Steve noticed your immediate change and looked at the door as well.

“Tony,” Steve greeted. “Need something?”

“Yeah, Natasha called,” Tony said. “They’ve narrowed the potential candidates down and want us over there.”

“Okay.” Steve looked at you. Your head was down and you were focused on your painting. “Sorry, Y/N. I’ll be back to finish this.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

“That, uh…” Tony nervously swallowed as he tried to come up with something to say. “That ashtray looks nice.”

You were taken back by the compliment. “It’s for your father.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused on finishing up the ashtray. Steve gave Tony a curious look as he joined the man at the door. Tony was acting particularly strange when it came to you today.

“Call us if anything happens,” Steve said, turning to face you. “Other security members will be around. Okay?”

You nodded again.

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice called to you. You timidly looked up at him. “We’re serious. Call if you need anything or if anyone comes over who makes you feel uncomfortable.”

Your breath hitched. Did Tony know what happened? Clearly Steve knew something, so it shouldn’t be that shocking that Tony also knew. 

“We shouldn’t be long,” Tony added, then he walked away. 

Steve followed, leaving you wondering how much everyone knew. And if they knew, when did they know? Immediately after? While Brock was over? Your hands shook as you finished painting. Where they doing something about it? Is that why they wanted to make sure that you knew to call them? What was going on?

~~~

Maria and Natasha were waiting for Tony and Steve outside the large Stark Mansion.

“Please don’t start, mother,” Tony sighed as he walked up to the women. “I know I screwed up.”

“I’m glad to hear you admit it,” Maria commented. “But that still doesn’t make up for it.”

“I’m trying here. I’m getting her a bodyguard.”

“That’s not enough, Anthony. She needs kindness, patience. A safe place. Brock has ruined the chance of her bedroom being a safe place. You better hope that he doesn’t creep into her other rooms.”

“That’s why we are getting Y/N her own bodyguard.”

“We’re had a standstill with that,” Natasha stated as they headed into the house.

“Why?”

“Howard has a favorite and the women have a favorite.” Natasha handed Steve two files. “My sister, Yelena, is one of the candidates left.”

“Us, women, believe that Y/N having a female bodyguard would be beneficial and make her feel safer,” Maria explained.

“Howard picked Clint Barton.”

“Clint’s not a bad pick,” Steve added.

“No, he’s not. He has more experience than Yelena and wouldn’t need much overview of the way the Stark Empire works as we have had him contracted for some time.”

“Then Clint it is,” Tony said.

“It’s not that simple,” said Maria. “We need to think about Y/N’s comfort.”

“I thought this was about her safety. Clint has more experience. I’m with dad on this one.”

“Glad to here that, son,” Howard stepped out into the hallway with a man. “This is Clint Barton. And I just hired him to watch over Y/N.”

“Howard!” Maria protested. 

“Nice to meet you,” Clint said, reaching a hand out to Tony. 

Tony shook the man’s hand. “Have you been updated on the situation?”

“I have.”

“Good. Then you will start immediately.”

“I really think that we should discuss this more,” Maria tried. “Y/N may not feel comfortable with a man as her bodyguard, given the situation.”

“Mrs. Stark, I will make sure that Y/N is as comfortable around me as possible,” Clint promised. 

“I don’t doubt that, but that still may not be possible.”

“Let him try, Maria,” Howard said with an annoyed sigh. “If it’s not working out, we can give Yelena a try.”

Maria stepped in front of Clint. “You cannot let anything more happen to that poor girl. Or it will be me you will have to deal with.”

“Got it, ma’am,” Clint replied with a nod.

Maria spun around to face Tony. “That goes for you as well, Anthony. I will not have Y/N put up with your shit anymore.”

~~~

You sat at the piano, playing it to get your mind off of everything. You were playing it as Tony, Steve, and Clint returned. Upon hearing the door open, you quickly stopped playing and jumped up to your feet.

“Welcome back,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on your feet.

“Y/N, I would like you to meet, Clint Barton,” Tony said, as he headed for you. “Your new bodyguard.”

You stopped breathing as your eyes snapped to look at Clint. He looked nice enough, but so did Brock at first. Clint, sensing your unease, he didn’t make a move to get closer to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Clint said, shooting you a smile.

You nodded. “Nice to meet you,” you whispered.

Steve and Clint shared a look. Both of them knew that Yelena was a better option for you, but they would do what it took to make you as comfortable with this as possible.

“You won’t go anywhere without Clint from now on, including my parents,” Tony explained. “No where is off limits for him as long as you’re there.”

Your heart began hammering in your chest. Your breath began to come out in labored pants, your body beginning to tremble. The men in front of you were immediately made aware.

“What is happening?” Tony asked.

“She’s having a panic attack!” Clint answered. “I’m calling Natasha and telling her to get Yelena over here, now!” He pulled out his phone and stepped away to make the call.

Steve stepped toward you, hands out in case you fainted. “Y/N, I need you to focus,” he urged calmly. “Deep breaths.”

You couldn’t respond, your mind spiraling. Tony didn’t know what to do as he watched Steve try to coax you out of the state you were in. He grew sad as he took in your trembling, gasping form. Tears had begun to trail down your cheeks. 

“Y/N,” Tony tried, taking a step towards you. Your eyes snapped to his. “Hey, it’s okay. Clint’s calling Natasha and she’s going to bring her sister over… None of us, including Clint, are going to do anything to you. We… We just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You… You d—do?” You stammered, surprised by Tony’s words.

Tony nodded. “Yes, I do. It is my job as your husband after all, to protect you.”

“It is?”

Tony was beginning to understand how his mother could be so protective of you. You truly didn’t know what it meant to be treated right by anyone. And Tony hadn’t been of any help to that at all. 

“Yes, sweetheart, it is,” he continued. “So, Clint’s going to stick around because we need to double down on security, but Yelena, Natasha’s sister, will be your bodyguard, okay?”

You glanced at where Clint was on the phone before looking back at Tony. You nodded. “Okay… I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Y/N,” Steve said. 

“May I be excused?”

“Of course,” Tony responded. Steve and Tony watched as you scurried away to your studio. 

Steve sighed. “We should have listened to Maria,” he said. 

“We’re keeping Clint on board. We’ll have him take the nightshift on Y/N. She won’t even have to know. Yelena can have the day.”

“Understood. You handled that very well, Tony.”

“Well, as my mother said, she’s not going to let Y/N put up with my shit anymore. I might as well try to be her friend… Neither of us wanted this situation to begin with. She never did anything to deserve my bad side.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you for trying. She’s my friend now, Tony, and I can tell you she is so amazing. None of us even know how much—including her.”

“Yelena and Natasha are on their way,” Clint informed as he stepped back up to the other men. “I overheard that I’m on night duty.”

“You okay with that?”

“She clearly needs something different than I can offer, but she needs protection. I’m fine with the night duty.”

“Good,” Tony said. “Let’s go to my office and we will fill you in on the ins and outs of the house.”

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[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part Two

Part One, Part Three

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Your parents work late on Friday nights, which you spend alone. Except you haven't been alone in a long time, not that you know of at least. Rafe has watched for years, he's very good at it. His idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when you catch him in your bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living. After you find the surprise he had left for you, you choose to believe that his threats were empty and try to turn him in. But, your plans are interrupted and you take an unexpected visit to Tannyhill.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the plot. Strong & descriptive language, suggestive themes, death threat(?), manipulation, kidnapping (?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Part Two is here!! I know this chapter is shorter than the previous, but I figured it's better to get what I had out. Also...I'm not sure if I like where this is going, so please share your thoughts about this part and ideas for future parts. Thank you all for the support on the first part of this story. Especially with this being my first work I've published on tumblr, I am very pleasantly surprised with how everyone has reacted to it. So, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!!

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

The blinding morning light shines into your room through your curtains. You sit up and rub your eyes. You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand which currently reads: 10:34 am. Those sleeping pills really worked, you think. Your parents are already at the restaurant, probably just getting over with the morning rush. 

Your eyes begin to focus, your brows furrow as your eyes land on one of the posts of your footboard. You lean forward to grab the pair of panties you had just worn yesterday which are hanging from your bedpost. You’re pretty sure you had put these in your hamper last night and wait, why are they sticky…? You wonder, you examine them and come to the realization of what it is. Immediately you toss them away, that was not from you. It was your stalker, it had to be. Of course, the first night you spend alone since four weeks ago and he already breaks in. And he does this? You think about his words, “tell anyone and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you”, shivers roll down your spine. 

You hadn’t even had time to realize how horny you had been when you had woken up; and now that you have you feel so wrong. But your dream…oh god your dream. You can still remember it vividly, even more so the longer you think about it; you can see the face of the man who fucked you stupid in your dream. You know who it was, who your subconscious mind let you fuck while you slept. It was your stalker. 

Without another thought, you’re in the shower scrubbing the shame and disgust from your skin—or at least attempting to. When you feel somewhat satisfied, which also happens to be when the water begins to run cold, you finally get out. Wrapping a plush towel around your freshly clean body, you lean over the bathroom sink and wipe the condensation from the mirror leaving just enough space to see yourself. Before the glass fogs back up you’re able to see a small part of what appears to be a bruise poking out from underneath the towel wrapped around your chest. You lean in closer using one hand to re-wipe the mirror and using the other to pull your towel down past your boobs. Looking back at the bruised area on your chest, you can see that the closer you look at it, the more it looks like a hickey. You just about stumble backwards at the realization. 

You’ve had enough. After you quickly toss on some clothes, you grab your keys off your dresser with a shaky hand. You rush out towards your car and get inside, pulling out of your driveway carelessly and speeding off. When you arrive at your destination, you take a few moments to rethink this plan. You have to do this. You can’t keep living with some creep sneaking in your bedroom and touching you as you sleep. You twist the keys in the ignition and pull them out, you confidently strut towards the entrance of the building. When you feel the vibration of your phone in your pocket you pause, sighing as you reach back to take it out. When you read the random number, with the same Outer Banks area code as you, your brows furrow. Typically you wouldn’t answer a call from an unknown number, but something in you is telling you to answer. As you press the green button and bring your phone to your ear, you glance up at the building you were about to enter which reads, ‘Kildare County Sheriff’s Office’. 

“Hello?” You ask warily.

After a few long seconds, the person on the other side of the line answers you. “Stop.” The man’s voice sends familiar chills down your spine. 

“Excuse me?” You respond, your voice audibly shaky. “Who…who is this?”

“C’mon pup, you already forgot what I sound like? It’s already been that long?” Your eyes widen at the realization of who this voice belongs to. You’ve heard it one other time, well one time that you remember.

As your head darts around the parking lot looking for your stalker, your voice comes out in a tone that easily betrays you, revealing your fear, “No…no…what the hell do you want?”

Rafe smirks from his truck as he watches you from afar. “I want you to turn around and get back in your car, m’kay princess? And I highly suggest you do what I want.” 

“Or what? What’s stopping me from walking in? Or from yelling for help?” You take a step closer to the building’s entrance.

“Stubborn, stubborn girl…” the man chuckles, “If you don’t get back into your fucking car right now, you’re gonna really fuckin’ wish you had just listened to me. I’m gonna get what I want no matter what, baby. You’re mine.” And with that, Rafe hangs up the phone, still watching you from a distance. 

As much as you want to just run into the building and beg for help, you know that unfortunately since you’re a pogue, the cops aren’t going to believe a single word that comes from your mouth. In their minds, all pogues are liars and thieves. And since you don’t have the slightest clue on who the man you saw in your bedroom is, you figure there’s not much they’d be able to do even if they did believe you. So you reluctantly turn back to your car and get inside. The moment your door shuts you inside, your phone buzzes yet again with another call. It’s coming from the same number, but this time you don’t answer. This was your second mistake. 

Rafe’s already pissed off. You went against his rules, you didn’t listen to him, none of this will work if you don’t listen. He thought he had been threatening enough that you’d behave, but clearly you need another scare. You need to be taught that disobeying him does nothing but hurt you more. When you don’t answer the phone when you definitely know it’s him calling, this is just the cherry on top; the icing on the cake. Rafe is fuming. 

You drive out of the parking lot, breath heavy as you stay on high alert–searching for him. A truck suddenly pulls behind you, tailing right on your ass. You can’t see through the truck's front windshield due to the dark tint. You being paranoid, step on the gas and speed up a bit, well exceeding the speed limit. A few quick seconds pass by and you jump at the sound of sirens. It doesn’t take long for you to check your rearview mirror and realize that the sirens are coming from the truck behind you, which is flashing its red and blue lights. You let out a breath of relief. You’re being pulled over yet you’re relieved because it means you aren’t being trailed by your stalker. The feeling is short lived as you flick your signal on and pull off to the side of the road. You roll your window down and shut off the engine.

The officer approaches you and goes through the typical routine and you try to calm your nerves. All sound is drowned out as you get lost in your thoughts. 

“Ma’am?”, the officer repeats. “Do you know why I’ve pulled you over today?”

The sharp and unintentionally threatening voice of the deputy snaps you out of wherever the hell it was that your mind had taken you to. “Yes, sorry sir, I…I was going over the speed limit.” You submit, wanting to get this over with. You can’t help but worry what your stalker would think if he saw this, he’d probably think you’re turning him in. But, you’re not. Really this whole thing was a misunderstanding, but you can’t explain that to the cop. 

“And why is that?” He questions you ever further, his gaze staring at you intensely. You get nervous and want to look away, but you worry that might make you look guilty of something. You’ve been pulled over before, it’s not usually a big deal for you. However you’re just so goddamn nervous and need this moment to be over. You feel like you’ve done something wrong; like you’re hiding something. But you aren’t.

“I–I thought…I just got distracted sir, wasn't thinking about speed. I apologize for the inconvenience.” You catch yourself, technically you aren’t lying; you just aren’t explaining why you were distracted. The threatening words of your stalker still echo around your head. The deputy gives a small lecture as he writes up a ticket for you. Once he gets back into his truck and drives off, you rest your head back against the seat and let out the breath you’ve been holding. When you start your car back up and finally open your eyes, you look straight out across the road. You can see a tall man leaning against a truck parked across the road, staring right at you. The familiar grin on his face has you sick to your stomach. 

After making direct eye contact with him, you pull off the side of the road and do an illegal U-turn so that you’re heading in the opposite direction, leaving the man behind. You know that he’s following you, so you drive around aimlessly until you get another call from the same unknown number. You want to decline, but you’re too afraid to face the consequences that might follow. 

“What do you want?” You ask, voice full of faux confidence. The only thing you hear on the other side of the line is a heavy breath that causes your skin to become full of goosebumps. 

After you’ve had a few moments to panic, he finally speaks, “Keep driving”. His words are not said lightly. This is undoubtedly a command, not an option. 

“Keep driving to where?” You stammer with nervousness. 

“Tannyhill.” He replies strictly. 

“Tannyhill?” You question before being able to stop yourself. You can’t help the attitude that slips into your voice. When a few more moments of silence pass, you get more and more anxious for his response. “Hello…?” You ask quietly, wondering if you lost connection. Still nothing. “Hello?” You ask again with more volume. After another minute or two, you hear the phone beep; the call disconnects. 

Why the hell does he want you to go to Tannyhill? It doesn’t make any sense. But you don’t exactly have a choice. He’s following you either way and it’s not like he doesn’t know where you live…and just about everything about your life. So, it’s probably best to just play along and obey his commands. 

When you get close to the general destination, your phone rings with yet another call. You answer, already knowing who it's from. This time you don’t speak first, you wait to hear what he has to say. It takes a few moments, almost like he’s trying to wait long enough that you’ll talk. The silence starts to get unbearably awkward, but your mind is set on waiting for him to speak and Rafe doesn’t have the time to wait; having to give you directions and all. When he finally talks he doesn’t greet you. His voice breaking the silence startles you as he instructs you with the directions to get wherever it was he was forcing you to go. 

“Wait…turn left h-here?” You ask, confused at his directions. You had missed the beginning of what he said since you had to collect yourself after being frightened. 

He sighs in impatience, “No dammit, the next one. Were you not listening?” 

“I…no I-I was listening–” you stumble over your words as you turn onto the street he wanted you to. 

“Bullshit. You need to learn how to fucking listen to me, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, trying to focus on remembering the directions he gave you, it only serves to piss him off even further. “Huh?! Don’t you?!” He shouts into the phone as he follows behind you.

You whine in fear, “No..I can listen. I promise I can listen to you.” You practically beg. “J-just tell me where to go?”

Rafe directs you to his house, which you of course recognize as the Cameron’s mansion. You’ve heard about the Cameron’s, but you wouldn’t be able to point them out in a crowd or anything. Besides from the father, Ward Cameron, whom you’ve seen on the news several times. Is he a Cameron? As you park in the large driveway, you rack your brain trying to recall the name of the Cameron son. 

His truck parks behind you, blocking your car in. He quickly kills the engine and exits his vehicle. You don’t notice him walking up to you until he’s yanking your car door open and pulling you out by the arm.

“R-rafe?” You mumble insecurely. He pauses to look at you, chuckling at your words. He mutters a quick ‘smart girl’ before retightening his grip on your arm and continuing to pull you into the large mansion. You start to cry, getting overwhelmed as you imagine the many possible scenarios that may occur. “P-please,” you manage to choke out. “What do you want?”

Unlike the last time you cried to him, this time he doesn’t stop. He drags you up one level of the large, spiral staircase; pulling you into his bedroom. As soon as you see the bed, you’re already feeling it beneath your back when he shoves you down just a few seconds later. As if you hadn’t already embarrassed yourself enough, you can’t help the tears that begin to stream down your flushed cheeks at a flooding rate. 

“Wait…no, please, please!” The way you keep shouting and choking back sobs causes you to gag from how worked up you’ve gotten yourself. All the Cameron son does in response is lean back to get a full view of you as a smug grin spreads across his face. “Please, I—oh god, I’m gonna be sick…” You mumble, which is quickly followed by another gag that interrupts your constant sobs. 

Rafe snakes his hand up from your arm to your hair, wrapping his first tightly around a large section of it. He tugs on your hair to force your head to look up at him, causing a small whine to escape your lips. “Shhh…baby, shhh…” He mumbles, his ‘worried’ tone working to oppose his previous amused expression. “Calm down, alright? Calm down. Ain’t gonna do nothin’ you don’t want, m’kay pretty girl?” The way he says that last part…you’ve never heard his voice sound like that before. You didn’t even think he was capable of talking in that tone. He sounds like he might actually truly care about you. You’re relieved; maybe even a bit…comforted by the fact that he might be telling the truth about not doing anything you don’t want. Well, besides having you basically held captive in his home. 

“What…what are you gonna do?” You manage to choke out between sobs, trying to catch your breath so you can calm down.

“I just wanna talk to you baby. Alright?” Rafe mumbles your name into your ear, allowing you to feel his hot breath against the side of your face. Immediately you’re taken back to the first time you had met him, in your bedroom a few weeks back. You try to push that aside and bring yourself back to the present; the memory only brings back the feelings of complete and utter fear you experienced at that time. Not that the present was any better, hell, it was worse. 

Hesitantly, you nod. He waits a few minutes to speak; waiting for you to catch your breath. Once you’re calmer, at least on the outside, he finally starts to talk. “I wanted to talk about my proposition…” He looks down at you, bringing his hand up to cautiously run through your hair. “Last time I got cut short…remember that?”

You nod. “I…I tried to warn you my parents would come home. I-I swear I didn’t tell them anything.” You say frantically, trying to prove your innocence.

“Hey, shh…it’s okay babe. I know. I know.” Rafe speaks slowly, his eyes never leaving your lips. He pauses to momentarily dart his tongue out to wet his parted lips. “I know. You haven’t told…you’ve been a good girl and listened to me, hm? Haven’t you baby? Haven't you been a good girl?” 

You nod frantically. “I…I’d never turn you in…” The false seductiveness in your voice turns him off, if that’s even possible. 

He pulls back from you and sighs, “Shut up.” He runs a rough hand over his buzzed head and begins to quickly pace across his bedroom. 

“B-but you wanted to talk…” You remind him. The way his attitude was constantly shifting in great amounts had you furrowing your brows as you tried to figure him out. 

“Yeah, I do. But not to a goddamn filthy, lying whore.” He retorts, a large grin appearing on his face while he watches your beautiful features move on your face, displaying your thoughts  as you take in his words. “Just be yourself alright? I can always tell when you’re not you.” He says almost sincerely. “I want…I need you to want this. Don’t try to pull that fake crap on me ever again, yeah?” 

Immediately you nod. “I…yes-”, you stammer, instantly regretting even trying to talk in the first place. Rafe chuckles, making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He stops pacing and lets out a long sigh, turning to face you again. His steps pause when he’s standing just before you. 

He leans down to whisper in your ear. “I really need this to work, okay…? This is good, this can be good for the both of us. I can help you; we can help each other, baby.” A silent tear rolls down your cheek from the fear of what’s to come. “I know…I know I messed up, alright? I know. But, you don’t have to be scared, baby. It’s all gonna be okay.” He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Please…I just wanna go home, let me go home!” Your cries are ugly, and very, very real. The fear in your voice only worries him. Worries him that you may never get past this. But you have to. You don’t have another option. And he really, really doesn’t want to have to hurt you. That was never his intention. 

“But you are home, baby. You are home.” He mutters as his fingers brush over your cheeks, smearing your tears. Your breath hitches at his words and your eyes slowly move up to meet his. This cannot be happening. Why is this happening? You think.

“No…please I…just let me go home. I won’t tell. I promise I won’t. I’ll…I’ll never tell anyone about any of this okay, I’ll never say anything about you.”

“I can’t do that, baby…you know I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I swear, I’ll never ever breathe a word of this to anyone.” You say enticingly.

Rafe sits down besides you, causing the mattress to dip and make you lean towards him. He puts an arm around you and his hand lands on the back of your head, pulling it into his chest.

He leans down to speak into your ear while his hand pets over your hair as you cry into his chest. “Because I need you baby, I need you. And I need you to let me take care of you, yeah? I know…I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. Just trust me okay…we’re gonna be so good together baby.” He tugs at your hair, gently guiding your face to look up at him. “Just listen to me and nothing will happen, I don’t wanna have to…do anything. I just need to know that you’ll listen to what I say.” Immediately you nod, going along with what he says. He tugs on your hair harder, eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips. “Ah ah, I know you can talk. You’re a big girl, now fucking act like it.” He says forcefully.

“I-I’m gonna listen, I’ll listen to you, just please, please don’t hurt me.”

He smiles softly as his eyes dart across your face, unable to pick a feature to focus on, everything about you is just too damn perfect. “Don’t worry I won’t hurt you, not as long as you listen.” His grip loosens on your hair again. “But you’ll be begging for it soon enough.” Rafe’s whispers are enough to make your sobs start again; in which he pulls your head back into his chest. Your tears soak into his shirt as you have no choice but to cry into him.

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable. This part took quite a bit for me to finish, since life has been a bit busy and I haven't had much time to plan or write. I apologize for the short chapter, I'll try my best to make up for it with the next part! I never really feel done with anything and as I said before I'm not sure if I'm a fan of this part or not. So, if you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them in future parts. And there's not much I won't write!

[grinsgrimmy]

I would like to request something! Of only if you are comfortable with it. I was thinking to request for the manhwa ‘My in-laws are obsessed with me’ with the male lead but since you replied to me saying that you weren’t really ready, I decided to request for ‘ How to reject my obsessive ex-husband’ with the male lead and crown prince crushing on the same lady. But with the same role the reader had last chapter you made of this manhwa. I would love for it to be a drabble ofc! Oxox thanks for reading this !

Ｍ Ｉ Ｎ Ｅ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖢𝖨𝖤𝖫 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖩𝖠𝖢𝖤

HOW TO REJECT MY OBSESSIVE EX-HUSBAND

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 drabble . (1030 words)

sum. jace had summoned you to the imperial palace to receive your guiding. unfortunately, ciel had tagged along.

ㅤㅤ like ciel? check out ciel oneshot .

note : thank you for your request, anonie! i was certainly surprised to see jace. though there was no further context on prompt/plot, i assume anonie wanted conflict. where is the fluff? i dont know either. its hard to keep it fluff when there are two crazy men. ill let it slide just this once. i had to also increase the drabble maximum words to 1000 because of this...

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

you tried your best to ignore the blatant scowling and glowering coming from the man across from you.

ciel's dark eyes burned with a mixture of possessiveness and jealousy, an incredibly stark contrast to the soft, almost reverent gaze from jace.

ever since the crown prince had accidentally figured out you were a guide, he had been bending over backwards to have you by his side. he tried summoning you any moment possible.

and who were you to deny the orders of a royalty?

you relunctantly needed to give jace your guiding, which was originally why you were summoned to the palace in the first place.

ever since the saintess disappeared, you had to step up as the sole guide to assist the espers of the kingdom.

ciel hated every second of it. the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface compelled him to follow you like a loyal guard dog, never willing to let you out of his sight whenever you were around other espers. 

hence, his determination led him to follow you to the palace. jace, initially dissatisfied by his intrusion, did not cast ciel out of the palace, yet jace found himself caught between loyalty and frustration.

ciel is his closest friend, after all. however, ever since you moved into the picture, their dynamic clearly shifted, each moment charged with unspoken rivalry and frustration.

and ciel hated every single second of it. due to it, he opted to follow you around like a guard dog. which led to him following you to the palace, which jace was displeased at first, but he could not throw out his closest friend.

jace eagerly awaited, meekly glancing at you as you intertwined your fingers with his. jace did not know how it happened, but he came to love you. truly. even if it was love at first sight.

though his heart was formerly with the priestess, he came to prefer you as you were everything better than him. stronger, lovable, and confident.

jace wishes to crown you and make you empress, revering you as his one and only. you being a mere noble gave him better opportunities to have your hand as his empress.

if it were not for ciel being there, that is.

you could feel the tension radiating from ciel, who remained rigid. his arms were crossed, watching over you as if to be physically ready if jace decided to do anything hasty.

you tried your best to ignore the seething jealousy that radiated from ciel as you focused on jace. the crown prince's eagerness was palpable, his bright yet shy eyes fixed on you as if you were the only thing that kept him anchored to the ground. 

you let out a breath you had unknowingly held in, glancing at jace and gave him a comforting, reassuring smile. jace responded with a smile of his own, gentle and meek. 

you slowly closed your eyes, feeling the anticipation humming in the air as you allowed yourself to give guiding to jace. you heard jace immediately gasp with relief, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as he felt the soothing flow of your guiding.

addicting. that was what your guiding was to him. far more addictive than the priestess's. you were like a drug to him.

jace's face was flushed red, his eyes wide open with pleasure as you continued to give him your guiding. slowly, the crown prince's eyes travelled to your closed eyes, to your lips, a thought running through his mind.

the true ability of guiding emerges when the connection between the guide and the esper becomes intimate, deepening the bond.

jace leaned to down to your face-

ciel quickly stood up, his frustration bubbling over when he saw jace's expression shift from relief to something more intimate. the sight of the crown prince enraptured by your guiding ignited a fierce possessiveness within him. 

without a second thought, he stepped forward, pulling you away from the crown prince. "enough," he ordered, glaring at his friend. before you could react to the sudden broken connection, ciel held you within his arms and desperately shoved his lips to yours.

you were his. you were bonded to him. you were his only guide. 

he had you first. 

yet time and again, the espers of this damned kingdom dared to flock towards you when ciel was the one who first claimed you as his own.

but he could not do anything drastic since jace was a royalty. he could only protest by being bold.

if ciel could commit treason, he would do so.

but he would be repeating the fate the novel him ended up with in that silly book that was deemed a prophecy by the head priest.

ciel groaned against your lips as you gave him your guiding due to the intimate contact you were brought upon. you melted within the kiss when he grasped your hips.

the moment ciel was caught up on quickly shattered when jace stood up, frustration etched across his features. "ciel!" he barked. ciel relunctantly broke away the guiding and the kiss, his eyes narrowing at his friend. 

the tension in the air shifted. you felt the weight of their rivalry pressing in on you. but unlike ciel, he was never physically confrontational, jace could only do so little. 

jace inched closer to the both of you, pressing his chest against your back while ciel's body was against your front as they both began bickering between themselves, ignoring your awkward plight in between them.

ciel grasped your wrist, pulling you closer against him, but jace protested and grabbed your waist, although his grip was a lot gentler than ciel's. you could feel the heat radiating from both of them.

suddenly they glanced at you, ciel's angered expression morphed into a pouty, hurt one, "come with me, wife?" he begged in a desperate tone, kissing the palm of your hand.

jace took your chin, raising your head to let you meet his soft eyes, "i'll give you the kingdom and more," he vowed, taking your other hand to plant a kiss on the back of your hand.

you could feel a vessel of annoyance pop within you.

so you replaced the saintess in the novel, huh?

how fun.

request drabble .

・❥・want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

[multifandombabe]

Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader x Jackson!Tommy Miller

Short n' Sweet Description: Joel and Tommy both try to flirt with you in their own little ways

previous chapter (prologue) | next chapter

word count: 4k

warnings: cuteness, eventual angst, hardly proofread

tags: @diabaroxa

Winter came slow to Jackson that year, soft around the edges. The kind of cold that didn’t bite just yet, only nipped. The streets were dusted with a thin layer of white, like powdered sugar sifted over rooftops and boots and shoulders, melting before it ever truly settled.

You noticed the rip in your coat on a Tuesday.

A clean line near the sleeve, right where the fence had caught you coming back from patrol. You meant to fix it. Even pulled a needle and some thread from the supply bin and dropped it into your drawer. But the days blurred together lately. Between watch shifts, refilling the schoolhouse wood stove, and checking on that one kid who kept getting nosebleeds in the cold, you forgot.

Then, Friday morning, the tear was gone.

You stood in the doorway of your small house, half-awake, one sock on, staring at your coat hanging where you always left it. The sleeve- repaired. Not sloppily, not rushed. The stitching was neat, careful. 

You hadn’t asked anyone.

There was a slowness to life in Jackson, a rhythm built on kindness without ceremony. Things like this would happen sometimes. Sometimes the bushes in front of your house got trimmed by a neighbor, someone already out trimming their own so they figured 'why not?'.

But this felt different.

It wasn’t just kindness. It was intimate.

You didn’t say anything about it, but you wore the coat that day like a second skin, as if it might whisper the truth to you when no one else was around.

The cold had deepened by sundown. The kind that made your fingertips burn even through gloves. Patrol had been uneventful, if not beautiful- icy trees, wispy clouds, a fox darting through the brush.

When you got back, you went to the mess hall expecting the usual- lukewarm stew, people talking too loud, that flickering light that always buzzed near the back tables.

You did not expect the coffee.

There it was, already waiting, set down in your usual spot at the long table, steam curling from the top, the faint smell of roasted warmth. You hadn't even spoken to anyone yet.

You looked around.

Tommy stood near the window with a group of patrol guys, laughing about something. His laugh was big, full of teeth, easy. He caught your eye and grinned. You didn’t think anything of it- after all, Tommy was always flashing a smile your way. 

You sat, slowly. Hands wrapped around the mug. It was the exact way you liked it- strong, hot, cream and sugar. You just weren’t used to being… thought of. And lately, between the coat and the coffee, you’d been feeling thought of. 

You took a sip, letting the heat bloom across your tongue and sink into your chest. It made you feel a little bashful, a little strange. Like the universe had shifted just slightly on its axis and you weren’t quite standing where you used to.

⋆｡°✩₊⋆☽༓☾⋆₊✩°｡⋆⋆｡°✩₊⋆☽༓☾⋆₊✩°｡⋆⋆°✩₊⋆☽༓☾⋆₊✩°｡

The quiet of morning came wrapped in pale light and thin frost on your windowpane. Sleep hadn’t settled easy, not with your mind turning over every detail, the stitched up jacket, the coffee, a smile from across the room.

You were still tugging on your boots when the knock came.

You opened the door to find Joel Miller standing on your front porch. 

“You eat yet?” he asked, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, snow catching in his beard.

You hadn’t.

“Come on, then,” he said, without waiting for your answer. “I got somethin’.”

He led you to his place, where a cast iron pan hissed gently on the stove. Eggs, potatoes, bits of deer sausage, the good kind from last month’s trade. There were two mugs already set out, and a fire crackling low in the hearth.

“I had extra,” he said. “Figured you might be hungry.”

You were. And grateful. But also-

Also suspicious.

You seemed to have a secret admirer lately, and now this, such a forward invitation from Joel. You didn’t know what to say, so you let your hands busy themselves with food.

Joel didn’t press. Just sat with you, quiet as always, glancing over now and then like he was checking to make sure you were still sitting at his table.

Halfway through the meal, he nodded toward your coat, which you’d slung over the back of the chair.

“Held up alright?” he asked.

You followed his gaze, then looked back at him. “The coat?”

“Yeah.” He reached for his fork again, casual. “That sleeve- figured it’d get worse if it went another week. Hope it’s stitched right.”

You froze, mid-chew.

“You fixed it?”

Joel blinked. “Well… yeah.”

Your heart did something stupid. Slow and tight and warm, like someone had pressed a hand to your chest from the inside. You set your fork down, still holding his eyes.

You laughed once, short and surprised. “That was really kind of you. Thank you.”

Joel gave a little grunt, brushing it off. “Ain’t nothin’. Just didn’t want you losin’ a whole arm to the wind.”

You smiled, then leaned back in your chair, watching the fire crackle a little while before adding, “Well, thank you for the coffee too. Yesterday and today. It’s perfect.”

Joel looked up. “Yesterday?”

You blinked. “At the mess hall. It was already there when I got in. Cream and sugar. Same way I like it.”

He tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Wasn’t me.”

A beat passed.

You laughed under your breath. Joel didn’t.

“Oh,” you said slowly. “Huh.”

Something passed between you- quiet, curious, a thread pulled just a little tighter.

That thread stayed tugged for the rest of the morning. It followed you through town, through chores, through the bite of wind that crept in beneath your scarf. You tried to shake it. Tried to focus on the to-do list pinned to your fridge. But mystery, you’d found, had a way of sharpening your attention.

By noon, Tommy found you outside the rec center, knee-deep in snow and elbow-deep in a snarl of string lights. Your gloves were damp, your nose was red, and your patience had thinned considerably after your third attempt to untangle the same section of wire. The prep for the upcoming New Year’s dance felt more like a punishment than a celebration, and you were quickly entering the “why the hell did I volunteer to do this?” stage of decorating. 

He approached at a light jog, breath clouding the air in front of him. His coat was dusted with snow, cheeks pink from the cold. “I heard you’re on town duty this week,” he said, brushing off his sleeves with a quick swipe. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of chopping kindling. Dropped off a load at your porch this morning.”

You looked up from the mess in your hands, blinking. “Oh. I- I didn’t see. Thanks.”

He gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching up just a little. “No problem. Thought it might help.”

You nodded, not quite sure what else to say. He wasn’t sticking around for praise or waiting for you to gush. Just… being helpful.

Tommy glanced at the string of lights still dangling from your gloves. “Looks like those things are giving you hell.”

“They’re winning,” you muttered. “Pretty sure they’re sentient.”

He chuckled under his breath, crouching beside you. “Mind if I give you a hand?”

You hesitated, then handed him one end of the tangled bundle. “Be my guest.”

For a few minutes, the two of you worked in quiet rhythm. The wind tugged at your coat and made your eyes water, but the silence was comfortable. It was steady, easy. After a while, the lights started to look more like decorations and less like a trap.

Tommy stood and passed the now mostly-untangled strand back to you. “That should make it easier.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. It does. Thanks again.”

He gave a small nod and stepped back, tugging his gloves on tighter. “Alright. I’ll get out of your way.”

You watched him head off down the snow-dusted path, boots crunching with each step. He didn’t look back.

You looked down at the lights in your hands. Still tangled in places, but manageable now. Somehow, that felt like enough.

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The next morning, your porch was shoveled and salted.

You stood in the open doorway with one boot half-laced, frowning at the neat, snowless planks beneath you. The step that usually iced over had been scraped clean, and the stairs had been swept down to bare wood. Whoever did it had taken their time- not just a quick pass, but careful work, even brushing off the railing.

You hadn’t heard a thing. No shovel scraping against the steps, no boots on the walk. And no tracks, either- the early morning flurries had already dusted everything over again, softening any evidence left behind. Like someone had done it without wanting to be known for it. You glanced up and down the street. A few lights on in nearby cabins. No one outside. No note. No hint.

Still, something in your chest tugged with quiet certainty. You didn’t know who had done it, but you had a guess. One you tried not to think about too hard as you tied your boots and stepped out.

By midday, the porch was a memory, but the feeling hadn’t left. That small, quiet gesture sat with you all morning like a pebble in your shoe- noticeable, persistent, oddly comforting.

You sat near the end of a bench in the dining hall, spoon halfway to your mouth, distracted. The room buzzed with the usual midday noise- clatter of trays, bursts of laughter, boots stomping dry against the floor. You barely noticed someone passing behind you until a low voice brushed the edge of your ear:

“Walkin’ in snow that deep ain’t good for you. Gonna get frostbite.”

You froze.

The spoon hovered midair. The words weren’t meant for anyone else. Not loud enough for the table. Not even meant to be responded to- just received.

You turned your head slightly, just in time to catch a glimpse of Joel’s broad shoulders moving down the aisle. He didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Just kept walking, like he hadn’t said anything at all.

Your pulse stuttered.

Of course it had been him.

That stubborn, silent kind of care. He hadn’t wanted thanks. He hadn’t wanted credit. He just wanted you to be warm. Safe. Steady. 

You set your spoon down and exhaled slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

Next time, you thought, maybe you’d get up early.

Maybe you’d catch him in the act. Maybe, you’d invite him in. 

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By late afternoon, the wind had picked up, whistling low through the trees as you dragged your load of firewood up to the porch. You didn’t need it yet, not with the embers from this morning still burning low, but you wanted something to do with your hands. The silence had started to feel too loud again.

The day moved like molasses. You did your rounds. Tidied. Checked the stock. You passed Joel on the way out of the mess hall later, and he nodded once. Nothing more. But his eyes lingered a half-second too long. 

You should’ve said something. A thank you, maybe. 

But you didn’t. Just kept walking, fingers tucked into your sleeves.

You stopped by the stables on your way home, out of habit more than anything. You paused by one of the stalls when you heard it. That laugh. Low, warm, worn at the edges.

Tommy.

He was leaning against the far wall, sleeves rolled to the elbow, coaxing a mule to stop being stubborn. Someone else stood nearby, laughing with him, but it was Tommy’s voice that hooked your attention. There was something about the way he smiled when he thought no one important was looking. Not cocky- just real.

You stood a minute too long, unsure what you were doing there.

Then he looked up.

His brow lifted, and something flickered behind his eyes. A hesitation. Like maybe he hadn’t meant for you to see him this way- open, a little unguarded.

You gave a small wave. Just two fingers.

He didn’t wave back. Just smiled.

But it was enough to warm the cold out of your fingertips.

Later, as the sky deepened to a dusky violet and the windows of Jackson blinked to life one by one, you walked home slow. Even though they weren’t there, you could still hear the crunch of snow under Joel’s boots behind you, still see the curve of Tommy’s smile, like he was holding something sweet behind his teeth.

You didn’t know where this was going. Or if it should be going anywhere at all.

But you knew, now, that you weren’t alone in it. Not really.

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That night, after lights-out, you found a note slipped under your door. It was folded twice, nothing fancy- just a torn-off scrap of ledger paper with handwriting you didn’t immediately recognize. Careful block letters, slightly tilted, like the writer had taken their time.

Check the back of the pantry. Thought you might want something sweet for once.

You stood there in your socks, coat still on, heart thudding as you opened the pantry and crouched low. Behind a tin of dried lentils and a cracked canister of oats, there it was: a jar of peach preserves. Glass, sealed, real. The kind of thing no one trades unless they mean it. Honey-gold against the dark. You could already taste the sunlight of it on your tongue.

You turned it over in your hands slowly, carefully. The label was worn thin at the corners, some summer brand from before the world had split open. But it was intact. Preserved, like the fruit inside.

And there, etched into the bottom- faint, but unmistakable- were the initials: T.M.

You stared, breath held.

They were small, careful letters. Not carved with force, but scratched in, carefully and gently. You recognized those letters, the way they were written. Three winters ago, your wrist had broken clean through on the ice behind the stables- black ice, sharp and invisible. You hadn’t screamed. Not even when they set it. But you had gone strangely still, unable to look at it. Bone out of place, skin already swelling purple.

You remember the way Tommy hovered- not panicked, but fierce, unblinking. He wasn’t even on shift that day, just happened to be nearby. He’d taken your other hand without asking. Held it in both of his, calloused palms steady and warm. You hadn't known him well yet. Just his name. His voice from across the square sometimes.

He kept talking- not to distract you, but maybe to ground himself. Said dumb things about boiled peanuts and why Texans never trusted Georgia peaches. Called you “tough as hell” with a tremble in his throat like it mattered that you were.

After that, he always looked at you like he remembered exactly how tough you were, despite looking fragile.  

You brush your fingers over the faintly carved initials now, the same ones that marked your cast back then, because Tommy had insisted on signing it, as if you two were in elementary school. Same hands. Same name.

This- this was his.

You ran your thumb over the marks, heart knocking softly against your ribs.

You’d thought, for a moment, when you first got a glimpse of the peaches, that maybe it had been Joel.

The porch. The stitching. The way he looked at you- like your presence calmed something in him, something raw and rattling just beneath the surface. Like you reminded him of music. Of peace.

But this… this was different.

The porch had been Joel. His was the kind of care that showed up in the practical things- unspoken, unasked for, and always just a little rough around the edges.

This, though- this was sweet on purpose.

This was Tommy.

Something about that made your stomach go soft, like it wasn’t sure whether to curl up or leap.

You set the jar gently on the counter and stood still for a long time, fingers resting on the lid. The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire still holding on in the hearth. Snow tapped gently at the windows. Outside, Jackson had begun to yawn toward evening.

You weren’t used to being seen.

But lately, between Joel’s steadiness and Tommy’s sunshine, you weren’t sure how much longer you could pretend no one was looking.

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By the end of the week, you’d seen more of both of them than you had in the last month combined.

Joel had invited you to help fix a leaky pipe in the stables- “Just needs a second set of hands,” he said, like it was a demand. But he lingered afterward, eyes scanning your face like he was checking for hesitation, like the answer mattered more than the job itself. The pipe did need fixing. But it didn’t need two people to fix it. It didn’t need the two of you crawling around shoulder to shoulder in the hay for over an hour, sleeves rolled, hands brushing every time you reached for the same wrench. He handed you tools before you asked. Kept the conversation light- weather, rations, some murmured complaint about a new batch of boots Jackson had ordered being too stiff. But every so often, you’d catch him watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in that way people stare when they want something- but in the way they size up something, a luxury they're trying to figure out if they can afford. Like he was trying to understand how it was possible you were still here with him, that you hadn’t realized how stupid of a job this was, how stupid of an excuse he had made up to spend some time with you. 

And Tommy, sugary sweet as always, showed up again at your door with a mess of firewood balanced on one shoulder and a sheepish grin. “Didn’t peg you for the sittin’-still type,” he said. “Figured I’d offer somethin’ better.” Then he nodded toward the trail that wound through the woods north of town- wide enough to walk side by side, mostly snow-packed by then. “I was gonna hike up past the ridge for a look at the river,” he added, voice casual, but his ears had gone pink with the cold- or maybe something else. “Thought maybe you’d wanna come.”

So you did.

You hiked for nearly two hours, the two of you crunching through snow in easy silence, boots scuffing the frozen ground. He asked questions you didn’t expect- how long you’d lived in Jackson, what your favorite part of winter was, if you missed the sound of traffic. And when you gave answers, real ones, not the kind you usually offered up just to shut a conversation down, he listened like every word you said built a clearer picture in his mind. Like he was trying to draw you from memory.

It wasn’t a date. But it felt like something.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose. If they knew what the other was doing. But each of them, in their own quiet way, kept finding reasons to be near you. Kept doing things just for you.

It was in the way Tommy lingered a little longer after you joked with him during lunch, his plate barely touched, like he’d rather memorize your smile than finish eating. In the way his hand hovered near your back when you both walked through a doorway. Never touched. Just hovered- like he wanted to but didn’t want to assume.

It was in the way Joel always walked on the side closest to the street, no matter where you were, never mind the fact that no one drove cars day-to-day in Jackson. In the way his hands twitched when you struggled with literally anything, itching to jump in and do it for you, and how he always managed to fix it silently after you'd gone. In the way he paused in his tracks when you laughed- like the sound caught him off guard, every single time.

Neither of them had said a thing. No flirtation. No confessions. No awkward declarations.

But you felt it anyway. In glances that lingered too long. In shared silences that stretched without breaking. In each unspoken offering of time, presence, and care.

And still, somehow, they never overlapped. 

Joel would come around during the day- usually in the early mornings, when the sky was still a pale, quiet blue and the cold clung to the grass like it hadn’t decided to leave yet. That was his time. When things still felt unfinished, like the world hadn’t fully woken up and he could slip through without being noticed. He helped reinforce the fencing of your garden, driving each post into the half-frozen dirt like it owed him something. Replaced the busted hinge on your back door without being asked, cursing under his breath the whole time but never walking away until it swung smooth again.

One morning, he came by with an extra canister of coffee grounds, the good kind- the one he knew you liked. He crouched to set it gently on your porch, already half-turned to leave before you’d ever know he was there.

But the door creaked open just as he stood, and you blinked down at him, startled in your robe and socks.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Joel?”

He froze mid-step like a kid caught sneaking out, cleared his throat, and glanced off toward the street. “Uh. Was just- ” He picked up the canister and held it awkwardly. “You were runnin’ low, I think. Figured I’d drop this off.”

You smiled, trying not to laugh at how stiff he’d gone. “You were gonna leave it and sneak off?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, that sheepish little scowl settling across his face. “Didn’t wanna make a thing of it.”

“Too late,” you teased, gently taking the coffee from his hands. “Thanks, Joel.”

He nodded, eyes flicking to your door then back to you, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay. “Ain’t nothin’.”

He offered breakfast at his place every day- never pushed, just a quiet knock in the morning, a “got some eggs goin’ if you want” spoken softly through the door.  He never waited for praise or thanks. He just did things. Left the hinge smooth, the garden standing, the coffee warm in your hands- like that was enough. Like your comfort was all the thanks he needed.

And maybe, in his own quiet, awkward way, it was.

Tommy, on the other hand, arrived in the spaces between. Late afternoons. Evenings. He'd catch you after patrol and walk with you until the streetlamps flickered on. He told stories- some real, some you suspected were exaggerated on purpose, just to make you smile. And he asked questions that made you think harder than you wanted to.

One night, he caught up with you outside the greenhouse, cheeks flushed from the cold, a small bundle wrapped in cloth in his hands.

“Found somethin’ you might like,” he said, and handed it to you with that same tilted grin that made your chest ache a little.

Inside the cloth were three dried orange slices, sticky with sweetness, and a handful of roasted almonds. Preserved. Rare. Not part of anyone’s ration.

You stared at it like he’d given you a relic.

“Where did you- ?”

He just shrugged. “People owe me favors.”

You tried to give it back. He didn’t let you.

“Let me do somethin’ nice for once,” he said, and the way he said it- quiet, almost tired- made it sound like maybe he didn’t get the chance very often.

So you kept it.

Later that night, curled in a blanket near the fire, the taste of citrus still on your tongue, you realized you hadn’t gone a day that week without thinking of both of them. Without wondering what it meant.

Not a triangle. Not yet.

But there was a shape forming. Soft. Slow. Subtle. Like snow building on a roof- quiet, steady, dangerous only if you tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

And you weren’t pretending anymore.

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next chapter

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter five

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: the reader is having trouble with the workers. Frank is having trouble with his old man. They find peace in a new menu item for the bakery.

Word count: 2k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: is it bad I’m most excited about writing the one-shots for this series? Long way to go until then though. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated :)

Y/N feels like she's close to reaching her limit. The studio is barely halfway complete, and the workers are taking her for some idiot that they can walk all over. Time is running out, and she can't afford to keep pushing back the opening date. She also knows she can't bite back too much at said workers, as it will only cause more trouble for her down the road. For now, she remains courteous.

"You're telling me there's a mould problem?"

"Yep. A big one at that."

It's another early morning, and Y/N stands in front of the main worker she's been dealing with the past few weeks, her stomach in knots. His news is the last thing she wants to hear right now, and the cost that will follow it sounds so much worse.

"I don't understand," she continues. "I had a surveyor come in and do an inspection before I finalised the sale. He told me everything was fine."

"Sweetheart, unless you think I'm lying, your surveyor was full'a shit," the worker says, shrugging his shoulders as if it's no big deal.

Y/N purses her lips. Deep breaths. "Either way, l'm not sure if I can pay to get this fixed."

"Well you better call someone 'cause this is more than we were hired for."

She can feel the condescension pouring out of him, as she anxiously wrings her hands together. Y/N is not a pushover. She knows this. Everyone important in her life knows this. But some battles just aren't worth fighting.

She nods. "Right. I'll go, uh, see if there's anyone available soon."

Y/N walks away, not before hearing the worker chuckle under his breath. She closes her eyes and once more takes a deep breath. it's not worth it.

She makes her way downstairs into the makeshift kitchen and living room. Opening her laptop, she searches for anyone local who can deal with the mould, while also not costing an arm and a leg. Her head is pounding and the worry that the studio might never be completed takes over. It feels impossible and overwhelming, and all Y/N wants to do is scream. So she stops looking at her laptop, shifts all the furniture and boxes to the side of the room as to give herself enough floor space, and does the one thing that calms her down the most. Ballet. It's cramped and not exactly easy to perform all the moves properly, but she twirls and bends and leaps as if on stage in front of a mesmerised crowd.

Just as she's about to glide into a pirouette, her phone pings. Y/N calms herself down from the ballet high and reaches for the device.

The name that pops up elicits more of a high school girl reaction than she would have liked it to, as she feels the butterflies materialise in her stomach. The message itself, however, leaves her feeling more so confused.

'Are you allergic to nuts?" - Frank

She furrows her brow but tries not to dwell on it too much. He's a baker, that's a question he probably asks people quite frequently.

'Hello to you too. No, I'm not, why?'

‘Just wondering. How you doing anyways?’

Y/N huffs, unsure if she wants to load her issues onto Frank. However, it might be good to let some steam off on anyone willing to listen.

‘I've got mould.’

'Damn. Might wanna get that checked by a doctor.'

Frank's response causes Y/N to laugh and roll her eyes, glad someone is willing to make jokes about the whole situation. Her phone pings as he sends another text.

'Seriously though that's gotta be rough. The workers doing anything about it?'

She shakes her head as if he could see her through the screen.

'Nope. Hoping to find a guy who can get rid of it all. Might need to sell my soul to pay them though.'

The reality soon hits her again, as she rests her elbows on the counter and rubs her eyes. Maybe she is in over her head. Maybe it should've been a warning to her when she got the place for dirt cheap. Now everything is falling apart one after the other. She needs to lie down in a dark room for at least 20 hours. Another ping.

'Check the front door.'

Y/N is confused but goes along with what Frank tells her to do. She leaves the room and heads downstairs, opening the door. She looks down and spots a bag filled to the brim with baked goods. Ones, of course, from Bakehouse 31. A few of them with what appears to be almonds coating the tops. Her smile is wide, as she picks up the treats and glances across the street. She sees Frank through the bakery window looking at her. He waves and she does the same back.

Y/N can already hear Farah's sarcastic remark. Yeah, there's definitely nothing going on between you two.

--

It's the following day and Y/N is carrying two large pizza boxes, heading towards the bakery. She felt slightly bad with how often Frank gave her free stuff and thought this was the best thing to offer in return.

Thankfully Bakehouse 31 is quiet as she enters, spotting David behind the counter. He notices her too and finishes up with the customer he's dealing with.

"Hey, it's ballerina girl!" he spreads his arms out wide and smiles at her.

She smiles back. "Y/N is fine, thank you."

She places the pizzas down on the counter, David looking at them in shock and hunger.

"I thought since you guys kept giving me free pastries, I could give you pie in return." She shrugs. "You can just share it out with everyone."

"Thanks," David responds, moving the boxes to one of the counters behind him. "It's just the two of us working here though. But I don't like sharing so two pizzas is perfect." Y/N nods, glad her tasty gift is appreciated.

David takes a slice, shoving most of it in his mouth like he hadn't eaten for days. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you're also here to see the big guy?"

She proves him right by awkwardly looking down at the floor and shifting from one foot to the other. Yeah, definitely here to see Frank.

David shakes his head in amusement. "He's out back. You can go check on him if you want, been out there for a while now."

Y/N thanks him and makes her way towards the back where David directed her to go. The door is slightly agar and as she goes to open it, she hears a strained voice, gradually raising in volume. Frank.

"I can't keep talking about this shit with you, alright?" There's no response that Y/N can hear, so she assumes he's on the phone. "I got a lot of orders to do."

Another bout of silence, then Frank's voice gets louder and sharper, making her jump. "It is important! It's important to me and it means a hell of a lot to everyone who buys our shit."

Y/N risks opening the door wider, peaking her head around to get a proper look at the man. He's turned away from her, one hand holding his phone and the other stressfully raking through his hair. She can see the veins bulging in his neck and knows his face is showcasing his anger well. She hates to admit it, but it terrifies her slightly. She feels on edge and ready to run at any second if things get nasty. It reminds her too much of her ex-boyfriend, Jonah, and how he would lose his temper with her at the smallest things. Maybe Frank isn't like that, she doesn't think he is. But the way he's acting right now, she hopes to never find out.

Frank carries on talking. "I'm done talkin' to you, dad. I gotta go help David out."

He finally hangs up and turns around, spotting Y/N in her frozen state. She awkwardly smiles and says hi. As if by magic, his hard, tense exterior softens instantly.

"Hey," he says, the tone of his voice a complete contrast to what it was moments ago. "Wasn't expecting to see you today, you good?"

"Sorry, I was just dropping off some pizzas for you and David," she tries to cover the shake in her voice. "As I felt bad for all the free stuff you've given me."

Frank is quick to wave her off. "Sweetheart, you didn't have to do that. I'm happy to give you all the sweet treats you want." He moves closer. "Thank you though, I'm sure David's already cleaned up one of them."

Sweetheart. Hearing him say that compared to when the worker called her the same thing feels different. It's not said in a condescending way, to make her feel inferior or small. It makes her feel good. It makes her feel close to him, like he's comfortable giving her a pet name. She hopes to hear him call her that more often.

"Oh also," Frank continues. "I've got something for you to try." He makes his way back into the bakery and Y/N quickly follows. He leads her into the kitchen, almost every surface covered with different pastries and muffins and loaves of bread. It's chaotic, but it makes Y/N love it so much more.

"Here," Frank moves a tray of muffins in front of her, picking one up and holding it out to take. "Tell me what you think."

She breaks a piece off and bites into it, the moist, cakey texture being complimented by a tart, sweet goo. Raspberry to be exact.

"Your friend mentioned it was a favourite of yours the other day," Frank says, watching her face to gage her reaction. "I knew I had to make some straight away as we didn't have any on the menu."

Y/N doesn't want to appear dramatic, but she feels like she could burst into tears right in front of him. The thought of Frank making the raspberry muffins because he knew they were her favourite makes her feel shy and incredibly touched. Something so simple yet so thoughtful and she isn't quite sure how to show her gratitude.

She places a gentle hand on his bicep, hoping he doesn't notice how sweaty her palms are. "That's probably the sweetest thing anyone's done for me. And they taste amazing, not that that's a shock." They smile at each other, as Frank pats her on the back and starts packing up the muffins.

"I hate to dampen the mood," he says as he places some of the muffins in a separate pile for her to take. "But how's work going at the studio?"

Y/N almost forgets about the shit show she left behind, sighing and picking at some of the raspberry pieces. "Well, I got a mould guy to do another check. And the guy who's making my life hell has now said it'll be triple what I originally thought the work would cost."

Frank shakes his head as she continues talking. "Also, and I don't know if this is just in my head, but I don't exactly feel comfortable being over there when they are now."

Frank feels the need to speak up at this. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs. "The way they look at me, the way they talk to me. It's probably nothing but I just have that gut feeling, you know?" Frank finds it hard to hide his emotions, the thought of those men making Y/N feel uncomfortable, possibly unsafe, in her own studio. It makes him beyond pissed off.

He looks into her eyes, as she picks apart the muffin and eats it slowly. "I've said before and I'll say it again. You need me to go talk to them, just say the word and I'll deal with it."

Y/N incessantly shakes her head and swallows, not looking at him. "Frank, trust me, it's fine. I shouldn't have even brought it up!"

He takes her wrist and turns her to face him properly. His stare is intense as she finally meets his eyes. "You promise, sweetheart?"

That word again, sending her heart into overdrive. "Yeah. Promise."

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[naughtyneganjdm]

Christmas in Jackson - Chapter 7

Summary: Joel grows incredibly attached to Y/N and panics that he may not be good enough for her. Through his worries, the two of them grow closer and share their second date.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Tommy Miller, Maria Miller, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61159651/chapters/160286590

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Negative Thoughts, Extensive Touching, Naked Cuddling, Smut, Oral, Unprotected P in V, etc.

Notes: I feel weird updating this when it's way past Christmas, but hey! At least I started it before Christmas lol! Thanks to those of you that read! I already have the next chapter done and ready to go up, I'm just going to give it a few days. If you'd like to read previous chapters, check them out here.

Last night was very unexpected. After discovering Joel’s broken watch for the first time, Y/N was incredibly close to being thrown out of his home. Yet, somehow, she managed to convince him to let her stay. How she was able to do that surprised even Joel himself. Waking up this morning was confusing for Joel. While he was still in pain, having Y/N sleep in his arms beside him seemed to numb that ache that had lingered for so long. Truthfully? It confused him how fast she was able to come into his life and provide him with some sense of happiness. Someone he had barely known for long was healing him in ways he never knew possible. And that was scary, but he didn’t want to run away from her.

Before they had fallen asleep last night, they just talked. Respecting his boundaries, she never pushed things too far. One thing she never did was let go of his hand, continuing to show him the support that he needed. Eventually they had fallen asleep. No one had ever put up this much effort to want to be near him or fix him. And he understood why. Mess would be an understatement when it came to him. But she saw through that and saw someone broken. Someone who was much like her that needed time to open himself up.

When he woke up, instead of waking her, he just watched her sleep. Even sleeping, she took his breath away. Although he knew she was just as broken and in as much pain as he was, she looked so peaceful. Like in her dreams it was the one escape from reality for her, whereas with him, until she came around, Joel’s dreams were often the scariest place for him.  

Stroking his thumb over the back of her hand, Joel cuddled his head in closer to hers. Since the moment he woke up, all he could think about was future scenarios between them in his mind. Where this relationship was headed was a mystery even to himself. All he knew was that he was growing addicted to the way she made him feel. Now that he had it, he was consistently yearning to be near her and touched by her. And then there was that question he hated to ask himself. Was this something that could really work between them? They were two unbelievably broken people that didn’t think very highly of themselves. Yet? The world brought them together. They barely knew one another, but he had connected with her more in the days that she was there than he had anyone in years.

A gnawing thought repeated in his mind when he thought about her though. And that was the idea that he wasn’t good enough for her. Knowing what he did, Joel did consider that his past was way too dark for her. That she deserved someone better than him. Someone who could be endlessly positive for her and uplift her in ways Joel knew that he would never be able to do. At least not immediately. How could someone like her fall for someone like him when he hated himself so much to begin with? Really? He didn’t see what she saw in him.

If things did somehow work between them, there was also the thought of her going home. What would happen when she left Jackson to return to New York City? When he mentioned long distance relationships being nearly impossible, he meant it. They hardly worked out. Especially having her across the country from him. Relationships where two people lived in the same city were hard enough. How was being in a relationship with someone across the country going to work?  

Deep down, he knew that he didn’t want to leave her side. She was the first person to bring warmth back into him again. More than anything, he had a need to want to be touched. To be wanted. In her, he found comfort. Most nights were agony for him. Drinking himself to sleep was maybe the only way he could avoid the atrocities that went on in his mind when he slept. Every day was hard. Waking up was miserable for him. But during the two nights she was with him? His nightmares were gone. His sleep was unbroken. While she didn’t erase all the pain he was suffering from, she made him hurt less. She helped him heal in ways he didn’t think were possible.

Lifting up slightly, Joel leaned across the bed and pressed a loving kiss at her forehead. The warmth of his kiss had her breathing growing louder, but she was still sleeping soundly when he pulled back. Carefully he unhooked his fingers from hers and unhurriedly got up from the bed. The last thing that he wanted to do was wake her up. Right now, he just wanted to get a shower in and then maybe make them something for breakfast. Some alone time with the two of them would be good for them. That way they could talk things out and see where they could go from here.

Moving around the room, Joel quietly pushed through his drawers to grab some clothes for after his shower. Once he had everything he needed, he checked on her again to make sure she was okay. Heading into the bathroom, he only partially closed the door not wanting to disrupt her sleep. Stripping down, he turned the shower on and was quick to step inside. Allowing himself to relax beneath the warm water pouring down over his body, he pressed his hands against the wall of the shower and sighed.

Still, his mind was focused solely on her. On how everything inside of him wanted Y/N. Getting her off his mind seemed pretty impossible at this point. What he wanted was consistently fighting with what his brain kept repeating. There was that fear that this wouldn’t work out. And his brain was playing that unbearable thought repeatedly. Trying to convince himself that wasn’t true was hard. For the longest time, he thought he deserved this pain. The ache that lived inside of him for so long.  

Breaking him from his own thoughts, Joel heard the sound of the shower door opening. Tensing up, he listened to the sound of it close. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, his head tipped down when he felt hands caressing up over the lengths of his back toward his shoulders. Sighing loudly, he felt the warmth of another body closing the distance between them to join him underneath the spray of the water. His eyes came to a tight close, his breathing becoming broken. Loosely, arms wrapped around his torso hugging him firmly from behind. Tiny kisses were being pressed against his shoulders and it sent chills down his spine.

“What are you doing?” Joel hummed, dropping his arms down to hook his fingers with hers. Bringing her hand up, Joel deposited a kiss at the back of her hand.

“Taking a shower with you,” she alerted him, continuing her kisses.

Considering his options, Joel swallowed down hard and turned to face her. His chest was rising and falling with his breathing growing louder. Letting out a long exhale, Joel noticed her gaze lowered down to get her first glance at his naked body. Not knowing how to respond, he just stood there.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel blurt out, taking the time to do the same as she was him, gazing upon the lengths of her naked form standing before him. Just seeing her like that had his heartbeat quickening inside of his chest. It made his throat go dry. Hearing his compliment made her smile with her eyes raising back up to meet his longing stare. Biting down on his bottom lip, he nervously stepped forward and hooked his arm loosely around her waist. Bringing them together, Joel nuzzled his nose in against the side of her neck with her caressing at his shoulders. Their wet skin pressed together and he liked the way it felt. “I’m sorry this wasn’t more romantic.”

“The shower?” she teased him, stroking her fingers at the bottom of his neck.

“Seeing each other naked for the first time,” Joel commented, his head tipping back enough so he could stare down at her. “I know you want something more romantic than this and…”

“I’m the one that came into the shower unannounced,” she reminded him, dragging her fingers through his wet hair. Joel smirked knowing that she was right and he gave her a firm nod. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“In you?” he muttered, his fingertips tracing down the length of her back to settle in right above her bottom. “Never. You’re perfect. You take my breath away.”

How she looked at him when he said that showed that she was impressed with hearing that. It made her smile and he loved seeing her smile. Tipping up on her toes, she placed her hand in over the center of his chest. Meeting her lips in a lingering kiss, Joel felt his breath catch in his throat with her breasts pressing in against his chest when she reached around him for the shampoo.

Opening the bottle, she squeezed some of it into her hand before setting the bottle aside. Reaching up, she started to lather it into his hair eliciting a deep rumble of a laugh from him, “What are you doing?”

“I’m shampooing your hair,” she gave him a weak smile enjoying the laugh that he let out. Mirroring her, Joel did something similar with his forehead pressing to hers afterwards.

Wrapping her up in his arms, Joel pulled her close and let the water spray down in over them to rinse their hair. Burying his head against the side of her neck, Joel sighed loudly and started to speak, “I want you to know that for the first time in a long time, I actually look forward to waking up.”

Pressing her hand in over the center of his chest, she leaned back and met his dark eyes, “I used to get angry every time I would wake up in the morning. Hoping that each day would be my last, but today? I was happy when I opened my eyes and saw that you were there.”

“I know how you feel,” she confessed, lifting up enough to start kissing in over his freckle covered shoulder. Closing his eyes tightly, Joel continued to caress his hands in over her body. What could have been a very sexual experience between them was more so tender and sweet instead. “That’s why I came here.”

“I know,” Joel acknowledged, depositing affectionate kisses at her shoulder and up over the side of her neck. “And that’s what worries me. I’ve never been good at life. I’ve always fucked up and I don’t want to hurt you anymore than you are already hurting.”

“Let’s not worry about the future,” she decided, reaching for the soap. Motioning Joel to turn the other way, she caressed the bar of soap across his chest having his breathing growing louder. “Let’s worry about right now. How we make each other feel in the moment.”

There was so much he could have said and maybe should have said, but she was right. Worrying about the future in a moment like this was silly. For so long he was so worried about the past or the future. Right now? He needed to live in the moment. Together, they lathered the other up in soap, taking their time to touch every part of each other. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t affect him in certain ways and that was becoming fairly evident.

“Sorry,” Joel huffed, attempting to lower his hands to cover himself knowing that his body was showing that this was effecting him more than it maybe should have. “I’m not trying to.”

“I’m not offended,” she assured him with a long exhale, her eyes dropping down and a smirk tugging at her lips. “I find it to be a compliment and I like what I see.”

“Well, I didn’t doubt that,” Joel’s voice deepened causing her to let out an amused laugh at the arrogance that shined through with his comment. Even though Joel was shy and somewhat reserved, he never had a problem stating that he thought he was impressive. “What? I’m not trying to be arrogant…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she reached for his hands pulling him in closer to her to pepper kisses over his lips. What she didn’t want was him hiding himself from her. “I would be bigheaded too if I looked like you and had that between my legs.”

“Well, at some point you might have it between your legs,” he snickered when she swatted at his chest provoking him to snort and nuzzle his nose in against hers. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve smiled or laughed this much.”

“Hmm…” she hummed, stealing kiss after kiss from his lips. “Then we will just have to keep you smiling and laughing. See how much more we can get you to do it.”

Going to kiss him again, she paused when what sounded like the front door being thrown open downstairs was heard. Her face scrunched up and she looked to Joel with a sense of worry. Instead of being worried, Joel appeared to be annoyed. Groaning out, Joel tipped his head back and rolled his eyes, “It’s Tommy. He never announces himself, he just comes right in. He lives across the street…”

“Across the street?” she mused with Joel dramatically bobbing his head about. Turning off the shower, Joel got out first and then helped her out before wrapping her up in the first towel that he grabbed. The way he held onto her and helped dry her body was very affectionate. “At least we weren’t trying to do something sexual that time.”

“Well before he makes his way up here, I suggest we get dressed because we are naked together,” Joel reminded her with a grunt working to dry his body as fast as he could. Tossing the towel in the hamper, he stumbled to work his way into his clothes. “This is a Tommy thing though. He has no understanding of privacy.”

Grunting, Joel heard the sound of Tommy calling out his name and Joel reached for his shirt to haphazardly put it on, “I’ll go out there. You take your time.”

“Wait,” she called out to him getting Joel to almost trip when he turned on his heel to come back. Moving in, she peppered a few kisses over Joel’s lips pulling forth a small rumble of a growl from him. “I just wanted to do that. You can leave now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, stealing one final kiss. Heading out of the bathroom and down the stairs, Joel heard Tommy going through things in his kitchen. Stepping into the room, Joel paused when Tommy was helping himself to Joel’s coffee machine. “Have you never heard of calling before?”

“I’m just making us some coffee you cranky son bitch,” Tommy huffed, finishing with what he was doing. Putting things back where they went, Tommy turned to face Joel while Joel finished buttoning together his shirt. Folding his arms in front of his chest, Joel leaned back to rest against the wall opposite of Tommy. Waiting, he expected something from his brother who just stared out at him. “I want to drop something by you.”

“You always do,” Joel noted with a scoff, stealing a quick back look to see if that Y/N was moving around the house yet. When he saw nothing he assumed she was still gathering herself in the bathroom. “Make it quick, I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy doing nothin’,” Tommy frowned, waving his hand about like he didn’t believe Joel. “I just wanted to let you know that I invited Y/N to the resort today with us. I know you two had a falling out the other day, but…”

“Tommy,” Joel shook his head, attempting to interrupt his brother but Tommy started moving around the kitchen again searching for something.

“I know Joel, you don’t like me putting my nose in your business and everything, but…” Tommy found a bag of snacks that Joel had put away in one of the cabinets. Instead of asking, Tommy just opened the bag and started eating it. Behind him, Joel could hear movement which meant that Y/N was moving out and about. “I’m just telling you Joel, I think the two of you are good for one another. I know things have been rough when it’s come to your love life, but this girl? I think she’s special.”

“Oh, you do?” Joel’s eyebrow arched in response, his head turning to the side to see that she was approaching the kitchen. Motioning her to wait, Joel knew that Tommy wouldn’t be able to see her and it allowed her to listen to the conversation.

“I really like her Joel. She brings out the best in you,” Tommy admitted with a mouthful of the snack he had stolen from Joel. “You always look so damn grumpy and while I love you big brother, it’s been nice getting a nicer version of you when she’s around.”

“I see,” Joel breathed out, adjusting his positioning with Tommy continuing to ramble on.

“Maria and I really like her,” Tommy stated, shoving his hand back into the bag to grab a handful. Shoving the food into his mouth, Tommy scoffed when Joel’s eyebrows bounced up. “We do! And I think she’s a good influence on you. With some work I think the two of you could really be good for one another.”

“Well Tommy, if you’d let me talk,” Joel began, his hand outstretching toward Y/N hinting to her that he wanted her to join him.

“When you talk nothing good ever really comes from it, I know,” Tommy had set the snack aside, going back to the cabinets to search for some mugs for them with the coffee. “I talked to her yesterday and I just really think she someone that can…”

“Tommy,” Joel exclaimed when she moved in beside him, taking his hand firmly in hers.

“Joel, you just have to stop being stubborn about this. I’m thinking about your wellbeing and hers,” Tommy’s voice got louder evoking an annoyed breath from Joel with Tommy being so oblivious. “She came here looking to feel better and you haven’t been well in a very long time. And who knows? You might end up getting laid if you play your cards right. Her being a doctor and all I’m sure she’d know the best ways to make you come. A lot of the men in town have been talking about what she said that night at the bar and…” Tommy turned on his heel, his dark eyes growing wide when he saw that Joel was standing where he was previously with Y/N beside him. Loudly gulping, Tommy let out a nervous breath and set the mugs aside. “Well shit.”

“You’re good at making an ass of yourself baby brother,” Joel told his brother with an entertained sound, turning his attention to Y/N who was surprised to hear that from Tommy. Especially since Tommy seemed like the innocent one whenever she was around him.

“You both are wet,” Tommy pointed out, his dark eyes gazing between the two of them. After a moment, he snickered and gave them a thumbs up. “Congrats on the sex then?”

“Tommy,” Joel snapped at his little brother glad that she seemed to be amused with Tommy’s antics instead of offended. “We didn’t sleep together.”

“Up all night then?” Tommy responded causing a gasp to fall from Y/N’s throat that turned into an amused bout of laughter. “No offense. I heard what you said at the bar that night from other people. Joel looks better today than he did the last time I saw him and I just thought…”

“Here I was thinking you were innocent,” she used her free hand to place it in over her chest, feigning being offended by what he was saying. “I thought Tommy Miller was the sweet, innocent and pure one.”

“I told you that you were biased because he was nice to you,” Joel brought back something he had said the other night at the bar. “Not that it’s any of your business Tommy, but we haven’t had sex. At all.”

“But you stayed the night,” Tommy confirmed with a big smile seeing the nod that both of them gave him. Grabbing himself a cup of coffee, Tommy returned his attention to them and slurped at his drink. “Tell me everything.”

“I’d rather not,” Joel decided hearing the sound of the door opening again eliciting him to groan out. This unfortunately was normal for him, but he knew that it might be something that made Y/N uncomfortable and that made him nervous. “And there is Maria.”

“I hope you figured something out here because I tried to call the front desk and see how Y/N was honey, but apparently they haven’t seen her since last night,” Maria announced cornering the hallway toward the kitchen. When her sight fell upon Joel and Y/N together, her eyes grew big with a pleasant sense of surprise. “Hey! She’s here.”

“She’s here,” Tommy sounded funny in the way he said it, biting down on his bottom lip when Maria moved into the kitchen with them. “Stayed the night too.”

“Oh!” Maria clearly thought that meant sex and it had Joel embarrassed. Dropping his head down, Joel used his free hand to rub at his messy hair and he muttered a few things under his breath.

“No sex though,” Tommy educated Maria on what he had learned right before she had walked in.

“Tommy!” Joel yelled at him, getting Y/N to giggle at their interaction. Taking the time to gather himself, Joel winced and swallowed down hard. “Now that you both are here, I think it’s a good time to apologize. I reckon I really upset you the other night with my actions and I’m sorry. Congratulations on the baby and I want nothing but the best things for y’all.”

“Told you she was good for him,” Tommy whispered, snickering with the glare that Joel gave him. Approaching Joel, Maria held her arms out and it was the first time Joel let go of Y/N. Hugging Maria, Joel seemed uncomfortable and it was obvious. Even though Joel was an incredibly touch starved person, it was evident he had a hard time being personable with those around him. “I think this is gonna be a beautiful day. Don’t you?”

“You’re pushing it,” Joel warned with a grunt, his face scrunching up with his brother being so over the top about things. Grumbling something under his breath, Joel noticed the amusement in Tommy’s features when Y/N reached up to caress over the center of his shoulders to calm him.

“Does this mean you are going with us today?” Tommy took another long sip of his coffee giving his attention fully to Y/N.

“I thought it stormed last night,” she remembered the snowstorm that had kept her in the city of Jackson, which she was ultimately thankful for. “Doesn’t that mean we should stay in?”

“Ah, that doesn’t mean much,” Maria waved her hand about dismissing her worries about how the streets would be if there was a snowstorm. “The bigger storm is coming tonight. The nice thing about Jackson is that the people here are very good about keeping the streets plowed.”

“I would have to make a trip to the inn because I have nothing here,” she alerted them, looking down to what she was wearing knowing that it was still Joel’s clothes that she was in. “I really don’t even know what I would need to wear to something like that.”

“Well you’re in luck because I have plenty of things across the street at our house that should help you out,” Maria suggested, stepping forward holding her hand out to Y/N who looked to Joel for confirmation. 

“If I’m going, you’re going…” he sighed loudly, shrugging his shoulders when he spoke. Accepting Maria’s hand, Joel felt Tommy moving in beside him with Maria heading toward the front door with Y/N at her side.

“I can’t help but notice she’s wearing your clothes,” Tommy noted, clearing his throat with Joel’s head turning ever so slightly. With an arch of his right eyebrow, Tommy took another long sip of his coffee. “So you haven’t had sex, but the two of you have been naked around one another?”

“No one is a better cock block than you little brother,” Joel reached out to pat Tommy firmly on the shoulder. Grunting out, Joel turned on his heel and went to go grab himself some coffee. Hopefully his family didn’t scare Y/N away with them constantly inserting themselves in their lives.

 ----

“You look pale,” Joel commented, stepping beside Y/N while they stood in line to get on the gondola with Tommy and Maria. After Maria helped prepare her for today, they had breakfast together and then met their friends and Maria’s family at the resort. Some of them split up to go skiing or snowboarding, but Joel was aware that she was scared of that so they went in another direction. Reaching out, he placed his hands in over her shoulders feeling her tense beneath his touch. “Trust me, this is fine. It’s not that bad.”

Nothing was said, she just gave him a small nod as he stepped in closer to her from behind. It was freezing today, even with the clothing that Maria had given her. She wasn’t used to spending her time outside in the snow. Especially with how cold it was here. Most of her days were spent inside of a hospital building so this was entirely new for her.

“It will just be the four of us and we all know how you feel about heights,” Joel whispered, caressing at her shoulders trying to calm her down. “It’s never too high from the ground.”

“It just goes up that massive mountain,” she noted provoking a faint laugh to escape Joel’s throat. Stepping in closer, Joel wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled his nose in against the side of her neck. Chills flooded down her spine with the contrast between the cold air and the warmth of Joel’s breath against her skin. “You have to understand this is very hard for me.”

“These last few days have been nothing but us doing things that are very hard for us,” Joel reminded her, urging her to turn in his arms. Caressing in over her arms, Joel dropped his hands and hooked his gloved fingers with hers. “Everything is going to be fine. I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“This is us,” Tommy motioned them forward with Joel urging her onto the gondola with him. While this was her first time and he wanted her sitting on the side where she would see the view of the city going up, he also knew that she wouldn’t want to be near the doors so he positioned her appropriately. Sitting across from them, Maria and Tommy got comfortable. When they got a look at her, it was obvious she was pretty nervous. “This just takes us up to the top of the mountain. There is an area where you can observe things, hang out. You are gonna be okay.”

“Exactly. And if you get too uncomfortable, we can come right back down,” Joel promised, hooking his arm around her shoulders hearing her breathing broken. Almost as if she was trembling but doing her best to hide her fear. “I promise you, we won’t let anything happened to you.”

“If you look, the city looks pretty down below. You’ll get to see how big it actually is,” Maria looked over her shoulder, pointing in the direction of where everything was.

“This was one of my favorite things to do when we first got to town,” Tommy explained noticing that she was hooked on the doors that were still open while the gondola was moving. “They close, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You all are being very nice to me, but I promise you this is not a thing that really calms down for me,” she tensed up when they started going higher up the mountain with the doors coming to a close. Tensing up beneath Joel, she heard his chuckle follow and he hushed her. “I’m sorry, it’s just something that’s always been there.”

“How in God’s name did you end up getting on that plane to get here?” Joel wondered, his head tipping to the side with her so ill at ease beside him. “You’re so afraid of heights, but you managed to get on the plane from New York to get here.”

“I was a mess,” she assured him, trying to dissociate herself from the moment they were in. Even though they were right, it was a very beautiful sight, it was hard for her to really let go of that fear of heights. “There was some medicine involved, that’s for sure.”

“Darlin’,” Joel slurred, his gloved finger curling in underneath her chin to get her to look at him. Having her eyes hooking on his, Joel gave her a confident nod. “We’re just going to take this up and when we get there you and I are going to hang out at the top. Enjoy the views. Then we will get back on and come down. Do some other things and then figure out the rest of our day. Okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Hearing him talking to her like that was nice, but in most cases she would have never put herself in a position like this, “You trust me, right?”

“Yeah?” she swallowed down hard with Joel urging her to rest her head against his shoulder. Having him comforting her like that did calm her slightly while the gondola continued to rise. Tommy and Maria were turned staring down at the city and she could see why someone would like this. It made the world look small. Seeing things from this perspective helped you realize how small you were in such a big world.

Turning her head in closer to Joel, she had kept her eyes closed for a significant amount of the ride up the mountain. Yes, things were beautiful, but she had gotten the view and she felt more comfortable with her eyes closed having Joel holding onto her. Hearing the movement of Tommy and Maria let her know that they had reached the top and she opened her eyes again.

She’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t nervous about how high up they were right now, but she just kept her head down and followed Joel off of the gondola. What was nice was that Joel held onto her hand the whole time while he talked his plans out with Maria and Tommy who were headed in another direction.

“Alright, come on,” Joel tugged at her hand, leading her toward an area that felt like an overlook of the town. Stepping toward the edge had her uncomfortable, but Joel hushed her and moved in behind her hooking his arms around her waist. “I’m right here with you. And I won’t let you go. You have to learn to relax.”

“It’s easier said than done,” she pointed out seeing that there were children that had no problem doing what they were doing. They were in awe of the views they were getting, but for her it was a lot harder being able to calm down after a life of having this fear.

“I know,” Joel agreed with her, smiling against the side of her face when she dropped her hands down to grab a hold of his. “Look at it this way, this is our second date, right?”

“Date?” she looked over her shoulder at him, surprised to hear that Joel was confirming anything with them as official. “When was our first?”

“You didn’t think that day with the snowmobiling was our first date?” Joel countered, his face scrunching up with the line at the bridge of his nose becoming more prominent. “I thought that was pretty obvious that it was our first date.”

“So now we’re considering the time that we spend together as dates?” she stammered, her heart skipping a beat at the idea of Joel talking about them in the sense that they were actually doing some kind of dating between the two of them.

“Would you rather me not?” Joel teased with a laugh, shaking his head when he motioned her to follow him over toward an area where no one else was. Lowering down in the snow, Joel motioned her to take a seat with him and when she did he grabbed a hold of her hand again. They were looking out onto the town that seemed so incredibly small from where they were at. “This is nice. Since I moved here, I’ve been the third wheel during the holidays. My brother is always insistent on including me in things, but being the third wheel has never really been fun. I just usually went through the motions.”

“How long have you been here?” she wondered, surprised that Joel was actually opening up to her. Shifting beside her, Joel seemed uncomfortable with the idea of talking about himself and she sighed loudly. “I got on that gondola for you. It’s only right that you start opening up to me.”

“I’ve been here a few years,” Joel responded looking away from her to gaze back over the city again. Staring out at him, she wondered if she would ever be able to learn more about his past. “Tommy was here for a while before I showed up.”

“And you moved from Texas?” she thought back to what she knew about Joel at this point, which really wasn’t that much. Truthfully? She knew more about Tommy, but she knew that she was going to do her best to have Joel open up to her.

“No, I came from Boston,” Joel corrected her, shaking his head and swallowing down hard. “Both Tommy and I left Texas at the same time. We both wanted to start a life somewhere else for a while and we needed some space from one another.”

Well, that was not something that Tommy told her in their time together, “We lived most of our lives in Texas. I was born in Arlington and then we moved to Austin. He traveled for a bit before he ended up here. I ended up in Boston. Now? I’m here.”

“Oh,” she nodded her head about, clearing her throat when she looked back down toward the small town she was staying in. “That was very vague by the way.”

“I’m a very vague kind of person,” Joel explained to her, his dark eyes full of a certain emotion that she couldn’t read. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. I’m not exactly the person that wants to be open about my life before I was here. There are several different versions of me, the one I want you to know is the one that is here. The Jackson Joel. Not the Boston or Texas Joel.”

“But the Boston and Texas version of you still made you who you were today,” she reminded Joel with a tight squeeze of her fingers around his. “And I really like the Joel that you are right now. So…”

“Good things didn’t happen in Boston and Texas hun,” Joel’s voice was raspy, his southern drawl growing deeper. “Things that I’m not proud of and things that…really hurt me. I understand that you are going to have a curiosity about it and I don’t blame you, but it’s nothing worth recounting. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered knowing that was Joel’s way of pretty much telling her that he was never going to be open with her about his past. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel hushed her, his dark eyes narrowing as he locked his eyes with hers. “I understand that it’s natural to learn more about someone when you first meet them, but my past hurts me. And I don’t want to let it do that when I’m with you. The most I can tell you is that I grew up in Texas. My parents died when I was young. I took care of Tommy and had a lot on my hands. I was married at one point. It didn’t work out. I was a contractor in Texas. I left Texas. Went to Boston to try something new. It didn’t work there either. So I’m here now and I own an inn with my brother.”

Giving a small nod, she cleared her throat and knew that wasn’t very much to know about a person, “Are you a sports fan?”

“I am,” Joel cleared his throat noticing the smirk that tugged at her lips. “I played football when I was younger. I can’t imagine being American and not loving football.”

“Are you a fan of the Texas teams?” she wondered, her eyes gazing upon Joel who huffed. “Because if you are, I feel really bad for you. Those Dallas Cowboys are trash.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Joel held his hand up to hush her, waving his hand and chuckling when he heard her laughing. “I was just starting to like you.”

“I’m just speaking the truth. If the two of us are going to be spending time together, you’re going to have to know my opinion on that team,” she wanted to lighten the mood having Joel smirk when she poked playfully at his ribs. “I will not hold back on ribbing you for your sports teams.”

“Dick,” Joel scoffed under his breath causing the both of them to laugh. Taking a minute to think about things, Joel leaned in to rest his head in against hers. “Thank you for not pushing me. I know that you are curious and I don’t blame you. But there are just parts of me that I don’t like. I want you to see me for me. Not for my past.”

Hearing that made her feel guilty because she was so curious about his life. There was a huge part of Joel’s life that he was keeping from her, but she knew that he didn’t want to be open about it. So she would have to learn to accept what Joel was willing to share with her.

Together they walked around for a while getting to see the sights at the resort. Eventually, Joel convinced her to ride the winter coaster that was there. The idea of riding a roller coaster in the middle of the winter didn’t exactly appeal to her, especially since she was afraid of heights, but Joel insisted that it was something she needed to see.

“It’s not that bad. It’s a single rider. I’ll go either before you or after you. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. You just sit down, they put a belt on you and then the lever determines how fast or slow you go. Pushing forward makes you go faster, pulling back makes you go slower. The first part is automatic until you get to the top,” Joel went over the process of things with her and she nodded her head. Yeah, she was listening, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared shitless about the idea of this whole thing.

Again, this really wasn’t something that she would eagerly do if she wasn’t with Joel. What she was doing was experiencing these things to appease Joel. Maybe this was for the best for her because Joel was opening her up to things that she wouldn’t usually do. In the last few days she had lived more than she had in the last few years. So that’s why she agreed to do this.

“You can go first,” she pushed Joel in front of her when they got to the front of the line causing both the employee in charge along with Joel to laugh.

“She’s a little nervous,” Joel informed the teen that was helping them with the coaster. “Take care of her, will you?”

“I promise,” the boy assured Joel with a confident nod. He helped Joel get prepared first before heading over to Y/N to lead her to her seat. Helping her get her seatbelt on, he gave her the same instructions that Joel had, but it truthfully didn’t prepare her for this. When it was her turn, the boy gave her a thumbs up and a weak smile. “Hey, look at it this way. If you were to fall off, there is so much snow that you would just fall into the snow. So you’d probably be okay.”

“Oh, well that’s really helpful,” she was sarcastic in her response, but the boy actually thought she was being serious and gave her a big cheesy smile. When she started moving up the track, her whole body tensed but she knew that Joel was right. She needed to learn how to relax. Truthfully, this was pretty loud with the cable pulling her up the track. The one nice thing about Jackson is that everywhere you looked, there was something beautiful to see. So she would have to focus on that part of everything because if she focused on her fear of heights she knew that she would be a mess this whole ride. Really, it wasn’t that fast. It was just the idea of things that made her uneasy. “Shit.”

With every second the ride seemed to get higher and higher up this mountain which made her ill at ease. Joel had told her that it was automatic until it got to the top which meant it had to go up a bit. Right now? She actually felt crazier going on this thing than she did on the gondola. At least on the gondola, they were closed in. Here she was on a track in a single riding cart and she was a mess. With no Joel to try to calm her down.

Thankfully it wasn’t a typical roller coaster that would do crazy movements, but something that just went up the mountain and down with a few circular loops along the way. If there were any parts of a ride that went upside down, she was certain that she would have run away. No matter how much she liked Joel. There were some fears that were just too hard to let go of. Even though Joel had made her do a lot of things that she wouldn’t typically do in the first place.

Trying to focus on the beauty of things, she really couldn’t help but be in awe of the mountains that surrounded her. It really was an amazing sight. If anything, she couldn’t deny the beauty of Jackson. Even if this wasn’t what she was used to.

Finally reaching the top, there was a sign telling the rider to smile for a photo and really, she was clinging so hard to the lever beside her even though it was useless at this point. Smiling wasn’t really something she wanted to do. Instead she gave probably the worst grin of her life hearing that the ride was about to be in her hands instead of automatic.

Pushing the lever forward, she debated whether she wanted to take the ride slow or fast. Fast meant she got it done faster, slow meant it would go on forever. The only rule was that you couldn’t crash into other carts. And right now? No one was around so she would be fine. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid in her mind. The faster she went, the quicker the ride was over and the less she would have to be afraid. The only problem? It went faster than she expected it to.

There were plenty of twists and turns and for someone that liked this kind of thing, it probably would have been a baby ride for them. For her? It had every muscle in her body tensing up. Along with the cold, it brought forth some cramps for her that she honestly wasn’t prepared for, but she kept the lever pushed forward to go faster.

When a steep curve came up, she felt the pit of her stomach sinking with how fast she took it and there was a sense of regret that she chose to go faster rather than slow around the bends. And then there came a bigger drop. With the drop there was another action camera that took a picture of her and really she couldn’t picture what she looked like. She was up higher on the ride, it was going fast and she was uncomfortable. Even if it was beautiful and it was something completely new for her, this wasn’t her favorite thing in the world. Could she get used to it? Maybe, but for her first time, she wasn’t having it.

When she finally reached the end of the ride, she pulled the cart to a stop and was thankful that it was over. Looking to the time she saw that overall the thing was about seven minutes, but truthfully? It felt much longer than that.

Joel was standing by the side waiting for her with a big cheesy smile on his face when she approached him, “That was a lot of fun, right? A rollercoaster in the middle of the winter? I bet you won’t find a lot of things like that in New York.”

“So much fun,” she grunted through a fake smile causing Joel to burst out in laughter because he was picking up on her lack of enthusiasm. “I’m sorry, I’m just a fucking mess when it comes to heights. You have to realize that I like you because I wouldn’t do this for anyone you know.”

“I reckon I acknowledge that,” Joel admitted, wrapping his arm loosely around her shoulders. Leading her into the building where they had the screen of photos from the ride, Joel tried to hold back on his laugh when he saw the photos they took of her. “Oh honey, you can tell that you are absolutely loving it. We should buy these.”

“Don’t,” she warned him, poking him in the ribs when she realized that he was making fun of her. In the photos she looked very tense whereas in Joel’s photos he just looked absolutely ridiculous. Part of her knew that he had acted out in order to make her laugh when they looked at them. “Who knew you had so much personality.”

“Oh, I’m good when you get me going,” Joel pulled her in closer to him to make it easier for him to place a kiss at her temple. “Just wait until you really get to know me.”

Together they did a few more things before meeting up with Maria and Tommy again to have some dinner. With Maria’s family, Tommy was planning on staying at the resort longer so Joel suggested he take Y/N back to the inn, but instead of just going immediately back they went for a walk around town.

“How do you survive in New York City being so afraid of heights?” Joel wondered, pulling her in closer to him while they walked in the snow together. When Tommy told her it was supposed to storm tonight, he wasn’t lying. The snowfall was heavy and even in the small amount of time they had been walking, it was really coming down. “With all those high-rise buildings, I can’t see how you love it there so much.”

“Well, I live in a brownstone which isn’t that tall and I work in a hospital. I don’t have to deal with the tall buildings that much. And when I do? I just don’t approach the windows,” she explained to Joel, her hand pressing in over his abdomen enjoying the closeness of the two of them. Joel had no problem having her near him today and she really liked that he constantly was either holding her hand or having his arm around her. “It’s not so much heights I’m afraid of. I think they are beautiful, but it’s the idea of falling to my death that scares the hell out of me. You aren’t scared of anything?”

“Can’t say that I am,” Joel admitted, thinking about the question and shaking his head. “I don’t mean to sound negative, but when you spend most of your life questioning why you are still here, you don’t really think about dying in a negative light.”

“Well that’s grim,” she frowned, lifting her head up to look up at him with big eyes and he sighed loudly. “I’m sorry life has been that way for you. No one should have to live their life thinking like that. I’m scared of so many things.”

“I guess that’s why we work together. You level out the things that I don’t have,” Joel suggested, pointing in the direction of a small shop. “How about we get some hot chocolate to warm up before heading back toward the inn?”

“Sounds good,” she agreed with him, allowing him to buy her a hot chocolate when he insisted on it. In fact, he was pretty proud of it when he handed it over to her. Continuing their walk, she actually found herself getting used to this place and the simplicity of it. “I was like that for a while.”

“Like what?” Joel huffed after taking a sip of his drink, giving her his full attention when they walked through town square first to get a look at the lights that were up.

“Where I didn’t care about things,” she thought back, tipping her head from side to side. “But then I think I started to panic the more I was around death. When I lost that patient, I think the idea of dying hit me pretty hard because that’s it. Once you’re gone, you’re gone. But I don’t think it really hit me in the right ways because I kept doing what I always did instead of living life.”

Swallowing down hard, Joel felt uncomfortable thinking about his past again, but he just simply nodded not wanting to insert himself into her thoughts, “Being here is the most I’ve lived in a very long time. Even if you are making me do crazy things.”

“They really aren’t that crazy in terms of what you are making them out to be,” Joel teased her, nudging her softly with his hip. An offended breath escaped her making him snicker at the expression she gave him. “I mean it’s really not. That coaster wasn’t much today and the gondola was never that far off the ground. Getting on that airplane to get here had to be scarier. I came here, I know they are smaller. If you stick around here long enough, then you will get used to the minor things.”

That was something she really hadn’t thought about. How long she was going to be spending here. Especially since her job was rather important and she already had people at the hospital trying to contact her about when she was coming back.

“I like how laid back things are here,” she changed the subject finding herself sad at the idea of having to leave Jackson. In the distance there were a few children building a snowman and it made her smile. They were taking advantage of the world around them right now. “Things feel simpler here.”

“That’s why I moved here,” Joel confessed, letting out a long exhale when they made their way out of the town square and started to walk in a different direction to get back to the inn. Passing the large church that they had, she could see that some of the children were together having a snowball fight. “It had my brother, which obviously I wanted to be near, but things move slower here and people care less.”

“Oh, I don’t think people care less. I think they are the type of people that want to know everything,” she interrupted his thought process knowing how singled out she felt when she first came to town. “I’d say people are more eager to get into your business here than they are in New York City.”

“You get what I mean,” Joel grumbled under his breath, stopping for a moment to turn and stare out at her. “Everything moves so fast in the other places. Here, you can take the time to enjoy the little things. Even if I don’t do a whole lot of enjoying things in my life.”

Grunting out, Joel felt a firm smack to the back of his head that was followed by Y/N bursting out in laughter. Reaching back, he realized that he had just been hit with a snowball that someone threw at him. Gazing over his shoulder, Joel noticed one of the children holding onto a snowball and when they saw Joel they swiftly dropped it back onto the ground.

“Oh, uh, hey there Mr. Miller,” the little boy waved his hand in the air nervously with Joel turning to face him. “I didn’t see you there. At all. Are you enjoying your day?”

A moment later another round of snowballs were being thrown at Joel from where he was standing from children that were hiding behind the playground set that they had stopped in front of. Swiftly moving out of the way, she heard Joel scoff when each one of the snowballs hit Joel.

With a hearty laugh, the little boy that had originally caught Joel’s attention ran off and dodged down behind the wooden ship that was built on the playground. It was then she realized a few of them were the children that were in Joel’s class that she had seen him teaching.

“You wanna launch an attack on me?” Joel’s voice changed, his free hand pointing toward the center of his chest. Giving a firm nod, Joel finished off the hot chocolate that he had gotten himself and was quick to throw the cup away. “Alright. You asked for this.”

Reaching down to grab a handful of snow, Joel balled it up and when one of the children popped up to steal a glance Joel threw it at them causing them to burst out in laughter when it hit them. A moment later a bunch of snowballs were being thrown at Joel who was attempting to dodge them.

“Would you help me here? It’s at least eight on one,” Joel scoffed, scrambling to move behind one of the slides that was on the playground for cover. It had been years since she had done anything like this, but she finished off her drink and joined Joel. Hearing the laughter of both Joel and the children was fun while they had this snowball fight. One thing it did was show her a different side to Joel that she didn’t realize was there. A softer, sweeter side to him that was visibly more playful and sillier. Trying to run away, Joel hit a patch of ice that had him slipping and pulling Y/N down in the snow with him. Groaning out, Joel laughed as she landed on top of him. “I think we lost.”

“Safe to assume,” she laughed, dropping her head down in over Joel’s chest when the original boy approached them.

“You okay Mr. Miller? Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he blurt out with Joel bursting out in laughter. Shaking his head, Joel gave him a thumbs up and then the boy went off to continue to play with the other children.

“Nothing like a child making you feel old,” Joel alerted her, exhaling loudly with her tipping back to stare down at him. Even though it was cold, his heart skipped a beat with the way that her hand palmed in over the side of his face. When her eyes narrowed and he felt her sweeping her thumb over his temple, he released a broken breath knowing that’s where one of his scars were.

“It’s okay,” she hushed him, tipping her head to the side allowing him to see that she had a similar type of scar in the area that he did. “I got mine in the crash when I was a kid. I’ve done a lot to try to cover it up, but it’s always there.”

Lifting up, Joel urged her to lean in closer to him so he could press a lingering kiss in over the area where her scar was. Swallowing down hard, her hand pressed in over the center of his chest to brace herself when he dropped his head back into the snow.

“Joel,” she paused, lowering down just enough to hover her lips in over his. A tremoring breath escaped Joel with his eyelids growing heavy. “Do you want to go back to my room with me?”

“Yeah,” Joel decided with a slur, nodding his head with his lips parting. “I do.”

Standing up slowly, she helped him get to his feet and grabbed a hold of his hand leading him back toward the inn. Nervously, Joel followed her through the streets until they reached the inn. Taking the stairs up, she had Joel trailing not far behind her as they made their way toward her suite. Getting into the room made her realize that she was shaking with her trying to get in. By the time she had the door open, Joel was eagerly following her not far behind.

Before she could even get the door closed, Joel was pressing her back against it getting the door to slam shut with the weight of her body falling back. Trapping her between him and the door, Joel’s mouth hovered in over hers before stealing a hungry kiss from her lips. Curling her fingers around the back of Joel’s neck, she whimpered with Joel’s hands cupping her face firmly.

Reaching up, she was eager to push Joel’s thick winter coat from his body hearing the loud thud of it hitting the ground when she managed to get it down. Working with hers had both her and Joel fumbling to get it off when it got stuck near the wrist area. Through kisses, they were both laughing with their troubles but were still so eager to keep kissing one another.

A relieved breath fell from Joel’s lips with a tiny snort when they finally did get the jacket off of her. Tipping her head back allowed Joel’s head to tip to the side with his tongue brushing out between her parted lips. The damp heat caressing in against her tongue sent chills throughout her body. The taste of the hot chocolate still lingered over Joel’s mouth leaving her with a sweet taste that made her smile when they separated.

Motioning her to wait a minute had her gasping with Joel reaching down to help her pull her boots off. It had her clinging to him with both of them laughing as she attempted not to fall. Joel was quick to pull his off as well until she reached for his hand to lead him toward the bedroom. Standing at the center of her bedroom, Joel swallowed down hard when she stepped before him.

There were no words spoken, but Joel let out an anxious breath when she stepped forward and started to unbutton his plaid shirt. Taking her time, she kept her eyes locked on his, enjoying the way his breathing grew louder. Pushing her fingers up underneath the material, she managed to get it down over his arms. Allowing the material to fall from his body, Joel’s eyelids grew heavy with want when he felt her drawing circles over the center of his chest.

Bunching up the material of his t-shirt, she was slow in the way that she pulled it up Joel’s body. What was surprising for Joel was just how much this was effecting him. He was trembling and his breathing was loud. This wasn’t normal for him. Sex was sex. But whatever was going on between them? It was something that he couldn’t quite get his mind wrapped around.

Sucking in a sharp breath of air, Joel tipped his head back when she got his t-shirt up over the center of his chest and started pressing tender kisses at the revealed skin. Lifting his hands, he pressed them in over her hips bringing them closer together. Having her peppering kisses against his chest had chills flooding down his spine. Pushing his fingers up underneath the material of her shirt, Joel’s rough fingertips caressed up the lengths of her back. A gentle tug of his shirt let him know that she wanted him to lift his arms and he obliged. Taking a single step back, he lifted his arms helping her in getting it from his body. As soon as she dropped the material, Joel was quick to do the same with her shirt. Except with hers, the sleeves clung to her arms sticking true to them having troubles getting their clothes off. With an amused sound, Joel managed to finally get it and drop it beside them on the ground.

Stepping forward, Joel’s arm loosely wrapped around her waist to bring her to him again. With his free hand, he curled his finger in underneath her chin to get her to tip her head back. Bringing their lips together in a passionate sweep, Joel didn’t rush this. No, this was something that he wanted to experience in every way. How she reacted to him, it felt incredible. Gradually their kiss grew stronger, the hunger growing with every caress. Nipping faintly at her bottom lip, Joel hummed with her fingers trailing down over the center of his chest toward his lower abdomen. Taking her time, her fingers brushed over his belt and started to undo it. Getting it apart, she locked eyes with Joel wanting to watch him closely. Working on Joel’s pants, she managed to easily get them unhooked and unzipped.

Palming up over his abdomen had Joel’s eyelids getting heavy, his lips parting with his breathing growing louder. Sliding her hands in over Joel’s sides and over his back, she snaked her fingers in underneath the back of his jeans. Pushing at the material, she managed to get them to drop at his ankles. Standing before her in his black boxer briefs, his Adam’s apple bounced in his throat and his long eyelashes fluttered.

Standing before her like this made him feel vulnerable. In that moment she was palming in over the lengths of his body. Focusing solely on him and learning every part of him.

“Come here,” she reached for his hands leading him over toward the bottom of the bed.

Pressing her fingers in at the center of his chest, she had him lowering to sit down on the edge. Stroking her fingers through his dark hair had Joel’s jaw flexing with his breathing becoming broken. Tipping his head back, he felt his heart skip a beat with her dragging her thumb out over his bottom lip. Unhurriedly his touch moved in over her hips, sliding up toward her pants working to get them undone. Lifting up just enough, he started pampering the area right below her bellybutton with wet, lingering kisses. Hearing her gasping had goosebumps developing over his arms. Having his rough facial hair scratching at her flesh drew chills throughout her body that made her smile.

Pulling at the material, Joel assisted in getting her out of the jeans so she didn’t fall with her hand bracing in over his bare shoulder. Licking his lips, Joel felt his throat tensing up with her standing before him. Getting to see her body in this light? It took his breath away. The other night in his work room, the lighting wasn’t great. So in here with the light on? He got to experience so much more of her.

Meeting her stare, Joel turned his head in toward her palm to place a delicate kiss over the center of it. Reaching down, he took his socks off and she did the same leaving the both of them in just their under clothing. She was the first to make a move, leaning forward to brace her hands on the bed beside Joel’s body. Hovering her mouth over his shoulder had him shaking. Starting to deposit small kisses over his skin had his hand settling in over the small of her back. Closing his eyes, Joel didn’t know what it was about this woman that drove him crazy with desire, but she did. As her lips trailed over his collarbone and over the side of his neck, it had him sucking in a sharp breath of air. Every kiss was meticulous having the anticipation growing inside of him.

Sweeping her fingers in over the side of Joel’s neck, she leaned back with a broken breath. Teasing kisses at his bottom lip had him clinging tighter to her with his hands sliding in over her bottom. Giving it a firm squeeze had her mewling out with the sensation of it buzzing against his sensitive bottom lip. Unhurriedly her kisses started to lower down over the center of his chest until she carefully lowered down on her knees before him. Hooking her hands under his knees, she urged his hips to move forward so he could brace his weight back on his hands. Starting at his knees, she took her time caressing up toward Joel’s thighs giving them gentle squeezes.

Leaning forward, she started to press kisses over his lower abdomen near where his scar was. Tender kisses were being pressed over the area. Dropping his hand down, his fingers stroked at the back of her head while she pampered his body with warm kisses. Having her kissing his scar like that was her way of trying to prove to him that even his flaws and imperfections were okay with her. A shuddering breath escaped him with her hand pressing in over the center of his boxer briefs. Flattening her hand out over the length of him had Joel sucking in a sharp breath of air while she continued to pepper kisses over his lower abdomen.

Balancing himself, a grunt fell from his throat with the rubbing of her palm over his manhood through the thin material of his boxer briefs. Each touch had his body growing harder. Every part of him felt like it was on fire when her mouth found its way to the top of his boxer briefs. Sliding her hand up, she leaned back on her knees and hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Starting to tug on the material, she gave him a nod and he lifted his hips to help get them from his body.

Swallowing down hard, Joel winced when his erection sprung free from behind the constrictive material. Setting his boxer briefs aside, she slid forward and started pressing faint kisses at Joel’s inner knee. Groaning out, Joel’s head tipped back slightly when her fingers loosely curled around the shaft of his manhood. Biting back a moan, he knew that he still wanted to watch her with her kisses pressing further up his thigh. How she was kissing over the sensitive parts of his body had the anticipation growing. Slow strokes of her palm over his girthy length had Joel’s head dropping down. Nothing was rushed with her sheathing his cock in the warmth of her hand. Licking his lips, Joel’s body tremored with her teasing the flesh over the swollen tip before down again.

Forcing himself to watch her, Joel groaned out when she faintly kissed at the tip having his thighs flex beneath her touch. Extending her tongue out slightly, she dragged her tongue against the ridges of the tip causing him to release a sharp breath. Watching him closely, she was paying attention to how he reacted with every touch. The gentle caress of her palming in over his testicles had his throat tensing up while he stroked at the back of her neck. How quickly she drove him wild with just the slightest touches was shocking to him. The room felt like it was spinning around him with her pressing wet kisses at the swollen tip. Faint strokes of her tongue had his hips arching up involuntarily toward her.

Releasing a raspy moan that was louder than he expected it to be, he felt her fingers curling firmly around his girthy length. Firm, determined strokes over his body had his head dropping down. His heart was pounding inside of his chest with her starting to kiss down over his shaft. It had been a very long time since he had someone do this for him, so he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t driving him mad with yearning for her.

Dragging the warmth of her lips along the length of his manhood had him lifting his hips up toward her. Getting comfortable between his thighs, her eyes locked with his while she took her time stroking her fingers up over the length of his erection before down again. Wetting her lips, she pressed in just enough to bring the tip of his cock to them. Kissing at the sensitive flesh first, she allowed each caress to grow more intense. Every movement having her tongue flicking out just that much more, teasing at the underside near the frenulum.

Moaning out, Joel finger’s stretched out as he caressed at her shoulder. By the time she finally took him between her lips, he was a mess. Ready to fall apart with the warmth of her mouth taking him in. Every motion she made over him was meticulous using her hands, her mouth and her tongue in unison to draw out his pleasure. At first she just focused on the first few inches. Dropping her head down before lazily drawing her head back allowing her tongue to lap at his body on the way back. All the while her hand was moving in the same tempo along with her mouth.

Watching her pleasure him was a gift in itself because he could tell that she actually wanted to see him in the moment. It wasn’t something to just do, she wanted to experience his pleasure and see what she was doing to him. Part of him wanted to drop back and let her have her way with him, but he knew that he wanted to see all of this.

Stretching his fingers out against the back of her head, he panted and licked his lips as she started to take more of him into her mouth. There was a fire building up inside of his belly with how dedicated she was to pleasuring him. Some women rushed this kind of thing. She didn’t and that turned him on so incredibly much.

“That feels so good,” Joel commented, praising her with what she was doing. Typically, this wasn’t like him, but a lot of this wasn’t normal for him. Slurring words of appreciation, Joel huffed out when he felt his body shaking beneath her. “Stop, stop.”

A wet sound surrounded them with her unhurriedly pulling her lips from his length. Looking up at him with worried eyes, she continued to pump her hand over his body using her saliva to coat his cock in it. Hissing out, Joel knew that he wanted her to keep going, but at the same time, he wanted this to be something more.

“Stand up,” he requested of her with a loud gulping sound that elicited a tiny smile from her. With a nod, she released his body provoking him to grunt. Being careful in the way that she stood up had Joel huffing out with his erection twitching wanting to have the warmth of her mouth going back to doing what it was. Cussing to himself, Joel sat up straighter at the edge of the bed and wiggled his fingers at her. “Come here darlin’.”

Doing as she was told, she stepped forward before him. Gazing up at her with his chocolate-colored eyes, Joel’s hands grasped at her hips. Sliding them up had her tremoring before he caressed them down over her body again. Starting to pamper her abdomen with kisses, Joel listened to the sounds that she was making. Her fingers sank into his hair with him nibbling at her flesh.

Lifting his hands, he hooked them into the material of her panties and tipped his head back to stare up at her as he started to work them down her legs. Helping her step out of them had him offering up a tiny smirk with him dragging his bottom lip up over the inside of her thigh.

“You are so beautiful,” he slurred, reaching around to palm in over her bottom. Noticing the way that she was trying to hide that she was shaking caused him to smile. Hell, he was having that problem earlier too. It was good to know that he did the same thing to her. Testing her flesh in his grasp, Joel hummed and then loosely wrapped his left arm around her hips to pull her closer. Bringing his fingers up to his lips, Joel’s tongue lapped at his fingertips with a hum. Lifting them, he dragged a line over the length of her sex having her hips bounce toward him. “Look at you.”

Teasing the rough pads of his fingertips from her sensitive bundle of nerves down toward her entrance and back again had her panting out his name. Just the sound of that was so addicting to him. Repeating the motion several times, he leaned in and started pressing kisses at her hip and down over her thigh.

“Grab onto me,” he instructed with a growl, his right hand grabbing a firm hold of her hip. Placing her hands in over his shoulders, she did as she was told with Joel leaning into drag the length of his tongue out between her sensitive folds. A cry escape her that sent chills throughout his entire body. Circling the tip of his tongue faintly at her clit had her shuddering drawing forth a deep rumble of a groan from him. Tugging her in closer to him, Joel lapped at her body burying his nose in against her flesh with the trail his tongue took from her entrance to her clit. Again she cried out his name, her body shaking against him. Every flick of his tongue grew stronger and more determined. Starting to slurp at her body, his mouth started to focus on the tiny bud with his fingertip tracing a line between her folds. Circling her entrance, Joel unhurriedly pressed his finger into her warmth groaning out against her flesh. Fuck, it had been so long since he had been able to do this. Hearing her crying out his name had an ache at his erection. Taking things slow, Joel pumped his thick finger inside of her humming against her body. Having her rocking against the motions told him he was doing something right along with the way her fingers tugged firmly at his hair. Taking his time to insert a second finger had her moaning out and trembling in his gasps. Tipping his head back, Joel licked his lips and smiled. “That’s it.”

Focusing on her once more, he shook his head from side-to-side moaning against her body with her fingertips digging into his shoulders. Growling against her body had her shaking harder against him. Pretty soon her legs felt like Jell-o between the motion of his fingers thrusting inside of her and focusing on her g-spot while his mouth pleasured her in unison. Pretty soon her legs started to shake and she knew if she wasn’t bracing herself against Joel she would have fallen. What he was building up inside of her was strong. There was a rushing to her head with the euphoric sensation he was drawing out from her. A growl escaped him when the walls of her body started to contract around his fingers. Pushing through, Joel’s movements grew stronger and more determined when her orgasm started. Her cries were loud and they weren’t holding back with one another. Slouching forward had Joel tipping his head back with his tongue slowly pulling from her body.

“Good girl,” he praised her, keeping a firm hold of her to stop her from falling. Helping her crawl in over him, Joel’s thick digits were quick to work at the back of her bra, his lips descending over her jawline. Soft pants fell from her lips with the material of her bra falling down her arms. Covering her breast with his mouth, Joel felt her fingertips back at his manhood stroking it in slow movements. Kissing up over her collarbone and over the side of her neck had her tipping her head to allow him the room to do it. A nervous exhale fell from him with her moving in over him. “Wait…”

“What is it?” she muttered, her fingers sweeping at the back of his neck with his dark eyes locked on hers.

“Are you sure you want this?” Joel confirmed with her, his eyelids growing heavy with the sensation of her dragging the tip of his cock through her sensitive folds. With a nod, she loosely wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Keeping his eyes on hers, he grasped firmly at her hips. Right now, everything was spinning for him. Positioning him at her entrance had Joel’s lips parting, his heartbeat quickening inside of his chest. Lowering down slowly had the tip entering her with them moaning together in unison. Tensing up beneath her, Joel dropped his head and buried it against the side of her neck. Having her tight warmth enveloping his body drew out a deep rumble of a moan. Grabbing a tight hold of her hips, Joel kissed at the side of her neck and knew that he was feeling so much all at once. A whimper fell from her lips when she lowered down just a bit more and he dropped his head back. “Don’t rush this. I told you it was bigger.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she hushed him, bringing their lips together when she allowed her hips to lower down in over him further. Together they moaned with him pressing his forehead to hers. Giving herself time to get used to him inside of her, she placed her free hand in over his chest. Licking his lips, Joel tried to contain himself knowing that he desperately wanted to thrust upward, but he wanted to give her the power in the moment. It felt so good and he wondered if he was trembling beneath her touch. “Look at me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he slurred, his eyelids heavy with awe for the woman before him. By the time she lowered down over him completely, it had Joel moaning out with his left hand reaching up to palm in over the side of her neck. Inside of her it felt like she was made for only him with the tight walls of her body surrounding him and clinging to him. “You are so beautiful.”

“So are you,” she hovered her lips in over his, appreciating the way his hands started to caress over her body. Instead of starting off immediately, she let the two of them get used to one another. There was an ache inside of her with the full feeling of Joel’s body stretching hers. Bringing their lips together in a hungry kiss, she unhurriedly brought her hips up before rocking them back down. A raspy moan fell from Joel’s throat with his face scrunching up when she continued to move over him. “Focus on me.”

Giving her a nod, Joel’s eyes stayed connected with hers. His breathing was loud with him desperate to kiss her. His hips bouncing up toward hers faintly, eager to meet the slow downward movements her body was making over his. Every part of his body was hot with a liquid warmth flooding through his veins.

He had sex many times before this, but this was different. Something that he wasn’t used to. Maybe it was because of the time gap between his last time having sex with someone, but everything felt so much more enhanced. Kissing her again and again, their breathing grew broken with the rolls of her hips over his becoming slightly faster with just a small amount of strength being added.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Joel warned her, his nose nuzzling in against hers with a sense of panic in his features. With how good everything felt, he was worried that things wouldn’t last as long as he wanted it to. “I’m sorry if I…”

“Shh…” she hushed him, not allowing his fears to eat away at him. Hooking her arms loosely around his shoulders, she started moving harder over him with his hands caressing up over her body to squeeze at her full breasts. “No one is rushing anything today.”

Lowering his hands to her hips, Joel helped her rock herself over his cock with him dropping his head down to take her nipple into his mouth again. Sucking at the flesh, he felt her tugging at his hair to bring his mouth back to hers. Kissing her with everything that he had, Joel felt her tongue brushing out against his and it sent chills down his spine.

“Lay back,” she ordered pressing her hand at the center of his chest. Carefully doing as he was told, Joel panted with her adjusting her body over him. Bracing her hands back on his thighs gave her the strength she needed to start bouncing over his length more confidently. Getting to see his body going in and out of hers repeatedly kickstarted his heart inside of his chest. “You feel so good.”

Even though she was uncomfortable at first, she was doing very well handling his body like this. With how tightly her body was clinging to his, he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Which was the last thing he wanted to happen especially since he wanted this to be something more. Lifting his head, Joel’s raspy moan filled the room with panting.

Dropping her hips allowed him to fill her completely with his abdomen sinking in. Digging his fingers into her flesh, Joel was desperate for the movement of her over him. Bouncing his hips up toward her had a smacking sound filling the bedroom and she released the most addictive moan that sent chills throughout him. Together they moved in unison, his right hand dropping down to tease circles over her clit while his left stayed clung to her hip. The friction had her biting down on her bottom lip, tipping her head back.

“You are so perfect,” Joel praised her, continuing his movements. Realizing that her breathing was going broken, Joel reached for her hips and started to thrust up toward her in steady movements. Focusing on solely her in that moment, he felt proud when her cries grew louder. What he had done successfully was bring her to another orgasm. The only problem was that his body started to twitch beneath her.

“God,” Joel dropped his head back with her starting to move her hips over him again. This time with only tiny circular motions allowing a small amount of him to pull out of her before burying deeply into her again. Grunts with every movement followed and he desperately pushed up to meet her in another kiss wanting her near him.

Taking advantage of the moment, Joel rolled her onto her back being careful not to hurt her. Hooking his arm firmly around her waist, he managed to lift her enough to drag her toward the center of the bed. Lowering himself between her thighs, he leaned into her touch when he started to palm in over the side of her face. Dragging his bottom lip up over hers, Joel hummed with her arms wrapping around his shoulders. Right now he was still very much inside of her, but he wasn’t moving.

“I have no idea what you’ve done to me,” Joel muttered against her lips, drawing out a purr from her. Stroking his thumb over her cheekbone, he memorized what she looked like beneath him. Flushed, with a longing for him that drove him crazy. Nuzzling his nose in against hers, Joel lowered his weight down in over his arms bringing their bodies closer together. Starting off slow, his hips thrust upward with her arm hooking around his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his waist with her heels loosely digging at his thighs. Every pull back and push forward was enhanced with the base of his shaft rubbing up against her. “All I wanna be is near you.”

“You can be,” she purred in his ear, kissing at the side of his face with him setting a steady pace between the two of them. Soft cries fell from her lips, vibrating against the side of his neck drawing him to moan. Keeping up the pace that he set, he just knew that he wanted to draw this out and have her near. Stroking her fingers through his messy hair, she brought him to her for them to kiss.

“You feel like home,” Joel alerted her, dropping his head down to bury it against the side of her neck. Stroking down over the lengths of his back, she cuddled her head in next to his enjoying the way the muscles flexed beneath her touch. Every movement was pronounced with the tip of Joel’s cock hitting all the right spots inside of her while providing the friction needed to stimulate her body. “Like this was where you were always meant to be.”

Tugging at his hair she brought him back for another kiss, her cries against his lips making him moan. He probably sounded ridiculous, but he was spouting off what he felt in that moment. Wincing out, Joel’s movements started to grow unsteady with him adding just a small amount more of speed between them.

“Just like that,” she encouraged him, her right hand dropping down to palm in over his bottom while the left stayed hooked into his hair.

“Yes ma’am,” he hummed against her flesh doing as he was told. Breaking away from their kiss every so often, he watched her reactions being sure to see what drew out the most pleasure for her. Her broken breaths turned to moans with Joel bouncing his hips up toward hers, her body clenching tightly to his when it started to contract around his girthy length. “I can’t keep holding on…”

“It’s okay,” she assured him with a nod, her body arching up toward every movement. Reaching for her hand, Joel hooked his fingers with hers. Pressing it down against the bed, Joel kissed her through the movements. Desperate to have that connection and close contact. Quiet moans of his name sent chills throughout him with his body starting to tense up. Moaning out, Joel’s eyes came to a tight close when he felt the throbbing of his cock. When the first sign of his release spilled out inside of her he could hear her cries growing louder as he continued to thrust through his orgasm.

Burying his head against the side of her neck, Joel’s moan was faint with the final roll of his hips over her. Closing his eyes, he couldn’t get enough of the way her fingertips stroked at the back of his neck playing with the damp curls of hair at the bottom of his neck. Their breathing was loud and broken, but they were both quiet just wanting to hold one another after everything.

Getting more comfortable over her, Joel started pressing faint kisses at the side of her face leading them to her lips to where each kiss was drawn out and sweet. Nuzzling his nose in against hers, Joel cleared his throat with how the room felt like it was spinning.

“Was that okay?” he confirmed with her, his heart racing when she gave him a smile and a small nod. Palming at the side of her face, Joel shifted his weight and pulled his hips back having the both of them moaning out when his body pulled from hers. Lowering down in beside her, Joel allowed her to crawl in over him to rest her head against the center of his chest. Wrapping her up in his arms, Joel cuddled his chin in over her head enjoying the warmth of her over him. “I really like you.”

Lifting her head, she gave him a weak smile while she stroked her fingers over the center of his chest, “I really like you too.”

There was so much Joel wanted to say, but he couldn’t considering everything he had been through. Cuddling up with her, they had managed to pull the covers in over their bodies. Instead of talking, they just laid with one another. The sounds of their breathing matched and they couldn’t stop touching one another. Whether it was her peppering kisses over his chest or him stroking his fingers over her shoulders. Regardless, they were consistently holding hands and sharing kisses until eventually she had fallen asleep in over him.

What was nice was that she was comfortable enough with him to do that, but he hadn’t done that yet because his mind was doing nothing but thinking about what they had done. Never in his life had he ever experienced with sex what he had just done with her.

Dropping his eyes, Joel looked down at her sleeping at the center of his chest. Stroking his fingers over the back of her head, Joel felt the lump in his throat growing bigger. There was so much to this woman and she made him feel better about things than he had ever felt in a very long time. But truthfully? He knew that he was no good for her. What she needed was someone to lift her up, but even with how they slept together today, he knew that she was the one trying to lift him up. The one putting forward most of the effort to show that he wasn’t broken, but he knew better. In fact, he was a very broken person and that would never change.

More than anything, he wanted to be enough for this woman, but he knew that he never would be. Shifting beneath her, Joel was very careful in the way he moved. Being cautious to the point of not wanting to wake her up. Once he managed to pull out from under her, Joel made sure to tuck the blankets in around her.

All he could keep thinking about was his past and how she deserved someone good. Someone that would lift her up and make her feel special. And it scared him that he wasn’t that person. So to avoid hurting her, it was best to stop this now before it could get any worse. Getting dressed, Joel was quiet in the way he moved throughout the room. Stopping when he got to the door, he looked back toward the bedroom and felt his chest hurt.

Normally, he wouldn’t have a problem with a one-night stand in the past. So why the fuck did this hurt so much even thinking about doing? Reaching for the doorknob, Joel huffed out and thought about the way she touched him. The way she made him feel. How she was vulnerable with him and wanted nothing more than to be close to him.

Stepping back and away from the door, Joel started pulling at his clothes again to get them from his body. Stumbling back into the bedroom, Joel lifted the blankets and slid in behind her. Wrapping his arm firmly around her waist, Joel pulled her back against him hearing her breathing change when he did it alerting him that she had woken up.

“You are so special,” Joel whispered, pressing a lingering kiss against her temple enjoying the way that her fingers hooked with his tightly. Instead of leaving, he had to fight that feeling of not being enough. Because he meant what he said to her earlier. Being with her felt like home and he hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

----

Tags: @jdmorganz @carolineesnell @ayumi-wolf @dilfsandmartinis @christinamadsen

@brittmb115 @thegirlwiththemostcake3

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [6].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. almost drowning, a nauseating amount of stupidity, swearing, sex jokes, bribery, the boys are shirtless for most of the chapter. WORD COUNT. 5.2k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @captivq @tocupid @seosalad @ddazed-lhs @gyuszie @mifuyuyo @error-cant-function @twocupsofsuga @flowerbe0m @dangerousconnoisseurbanana @laviesm @keikeu @elavin @chaemmie @rikisly @satsuri3su @gyugyubin @junhuicosmo @skzenhalove @luvkpopp @yansbolobao @emer-syn @eggomi @drunkinjake @soobiverse @deobitifull @haechanspudu @yawnzzn27 @7myoi @toothfa-1-ry @imsiriuslyreal @maimoirs @whippedforbeomgyu

NOTE. this is my favorite chapter so far i think i peaked here. the ppt scene was inspired by anthpo, my professors' tendency to use the socratic method to instill trauma in their students, and hoshi from seventeen's tiger agenda. also, most of this was written before i found out odi has passed 😔 fly high little guy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 6 — the obligatory pool episode.

THERE’S A HEATWAVE IN TOWN. When you wake up, it feels like you got transported into Satan’s rectum. It’s sweaty and disgusting under your covers, and kicking them off does nothing to appease the hellish humidity inside your room. But when you roll over to grab the remote for the air conditioning, blindly press on the button, nothing happens.

You try again.

It’s not working.

You jolt up from your bed, hair a mess, and armpits too sweaty for comfort. A power outage. Of course, there’d be no power on the hottest day of the year.

“Fucking shit, I’m so hot,” you announce as you make your arrival downstairs. It’s only Sunghoon and Jay in the living room. They turn away from their game of jenga upon your arrival.

“Yeah, you’re super hot,” says Jay. “I mean, damn global warming sure sucks, huh?”

The wooden tower collapses. You stifle out a grunt of agreement. “Apparently some feeders in the neighborhood broke down,” Sunghoon informs you. “They’re still fixing it. The generator also wasn’t working when Heeseung hyung went down the basement to turn it on. I think we need to get that fixed too.”

Well, shit. That’s not good news. You give Sunghoon a pat on the head for speaking thirty-six words to you today before walking over to the kitchen. Last time you checked, there was a stash of popsicles in there. You’re pretty sure they haven’t been completely water-fied by the blackout yet.

For some reason, upon nearing the kitchen island, the fridge door is hanging open. You understand why when you step on something— er, someone— on the way towards your frozen delight. “Ow!” Beomgyu hisses from the floor. There’s remnants of cold wind filtering out from the refrigerator. Beomgyu has claimed it as his territory, and he’s glaring up at you from his spot. “Watch where you’re going.”

“‘Scuse me.”

You walk over him, hiking one leg across his torso before infringing upon his fridge monopoly to grab a half-melted melon bar. This isn’t exactly how Beomgyu imagined how it’d be like to be in between your legs. “I’m not sure if you’re dense or if you just don’t give a fuck,” he says, propping himself up by the elbows as you dig through a plastic bag.

“I really just don’t don’t give a fuck.” You snap a bite out of the pale green popsicle. “Want one?”

“Give.”

“Go get one yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to.” You close the fridge door shut and make sure to kick his side with your foot when you cross over him again. He lets out a cry of pain. You turn back, satisfied with your cold exploits, but there is no wall separating the living room and the kitchen, so Sunghoon and Jay were witnesses to that entire conversation. “Do you also want a bite?” you ask. Their ears burn a couple degrees brighter before declining.

Was that an intentional insinuation? Yes. Do you enjoy destroying their composure on purpose? Also yes. It’s a new hobby you picked up since staying here, and it’s definitely one you’ll miss once your dorms get fixed and you’d have to move out. Jay and Jake are both particularly difficult to get through, but sometimes you can manage to fluster the former, just like now. Jake has been impossible so far. You’ll get him one day. He can’t be left unscathed.

This may seem terrible, and sometimes you do get a teensy bit conscientious when one of them starts crying or becomes temporarily incapacitated— until you remember they have this whole secret bet going on that definitely involves you, so you should be allowed to fuck around this much, right?

“Hey! Why don’t we have a pool party?”

The genius idea comes from Jake. You immediately run up back to your room upon hearing the suggestion to change into a bathing suit, pausing right before your door because you don’t want anyone waving the PD&J at your face for indecent attire again. So you throw on a beach kimono for the safety of your wallet. They emptied the jar out yesterday to buy some meat for a barbecue party that’s supposed to be scheduled this weekend, but looks like you’re gonna be having that sweet, sweet pork belly tonight right by the chlorine scent of the pool. 

You hurry downstairs, so fucking ready to be submerged in cool, refreshing water. But when you get to the courtyard— all the boys already loitering in and around the pool— you realize something. 

Something a little dangerous.

“You’re finally here!”

Oh no. They’re hot.

“We’re playing chicken fight, come jo—”

A rather scantily clad Sunghoon pushes an equally scantily clad Jake off Soobin’s unclothed shoulders and into the splash of the water. They are all bare-skinned, glistening wet, and although it’s not a bad sight to behold at all, it’s a discovery that you wish had remained undiscovered until you finally leave this damned house.

Listen. It’s not like you’ve never seen any of them shirtless or almost naked before. Jay was literally in his highlighter underwear when you first met him. But you were never put in a situation where you’re able to look at them closely because all those times have been meshed with something stupid.

It’s very easy to overlook their general attractiveness when they all act like third-graders, bitchless losers, scandalized Victorian men, or all of the above at the same time, in the same sequence. It’s really easy to forget that.

But Heeseung has his soaked tank top sticking to his skin and Beomgyu is pushing his wet hair back with a wide grin. Your housemates might actually be a tad bit more attractive than your prolonged, initial impression of them. This can cause a little internal trouble.

“Why aren’t you getting in the water?”

Soobin is the one that’s asking, having already left the water fight in the middle and is now looking up at you, chest deep near the pool’s edge. You look down. You’re not sure if he’s looking directly at you because you’re a little focused on his toned arms resting above the ledge, but if he is, then good on him for keeping up with his eye-contact practice hours.

“Hey,” you call out, crouching down and hugging your knees. “Do you work out?”

Silence. Pink scatters across Soobin’s cheeks. He coughs out an unintelligible response and disappears back under the water, quietly swimming away. Yes. This is how it should be.

Feeling a lot more at ease after confirming you still have the upper hand, you finally dip your legs into the pool and stretch out your back with a satisfied groan. Fuck, this is perfect. You’re honestly unsure how you’re supposed to transition back into life at the dorms when this house has a perfectly refreshing pool at your disposal. You don’t remember what life was like before this. You’d live here for the rest of your life if you could. But you have enough pride in your system to prevent you from extending your verbal contract with Jake. Two months. It’s a few days past the halfway point now. All you could do is enjoy this life of comfort as much as you can.

Until it gets ripped away from you in the form of Jake yanking your ankle and dragging you under the water with a horrifying splash. 

Before you know it, you’re gasping for air and grabbing the nearest thing your arms could reach out for so you don’t fucking drown— but when you finally manage to rise back to the surface, a loud inhale of air into your lungs, the person you managed to hold onto just happens to be Heeseung.

Heeseung, who’s looking down at you with wide, alarmed eyes while you’re wrapped around his waist. Heeseung, who shoves you back into the water out of panic and shock and whatever the fuck his problem is.

Jake rushes to pull you back up. Heeseung is dead to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He failed to kill you so he’s now down on his knees, timid palms on his lap, and head lowered in guilt.

“I am very sorry,” Heeseung repeats. “I am deeply reflecting on my actions.”

You’re sitting on the half log shaped chairs on the courtyard, still wet, arms and legs both crossed in petulance as Sunghoon quietly dries your hair with a towel from behind (no, you didn’t scare him into doing this). 

“Stand up.” He flinches at the tone of your voice. “Go get yourself dried up so we can finally start the barbecue.”

He’s awfully obedient. You watch as his slumped figure trudges back into the house. “Was that too much?” The back of your head hits Sunghoon’s bare stomach when you try to look at him. He’s holding your head in his hands with the damp towel in between.

“You’re always a little much,” he mumbles.

“Is that a bad or good thing?”

Sunghoon ponders for a moment, staring at your upside down face. “More is always better than less?”

You smile, snatching the towel from his hands and jumping off from your seat. “Good answer.” Two gentle pats of praise on his cheek set his skin on fire. Speaking of fire, you can already smell the scent of smoke and deliciously cooking meat wafting in the air, so you run over to Jay who’s on grilling duty, hoping to get an early bite.

“Can you pass me a plate?” he asks, flipping the cut up pieces of meat on the barbecue grill. “Thanks.”

“Gimme one.” You open your mouth, chasing after the slice of pork belly on his tongs until he brings it closer to your mouth for you to bite. “Holy shit,” you muffle out, hot air escaping from your lips.

“Good?” he asks.

“Very good.” You swallow the piece. “One more?”

He lets you snack on a bunch of well-done beef before they could reach the plate and at some point he mentions, as you’re tearing open a few packs of ramyeon to cook, that you look a lot like the curled up pieces of shrimp he’s currently grilling. You narrow your eyes at him, hand dangerously hovering above boiling water with a square of raw noodles. “Are you trying to say I look charred and have a terrible posture?”

“No.” Jay raises a piece of shrimp in the air, showing it off to you. “Doesn’t it look cute?”

Now that you’re looking at it a little closer, it does look kind of cute. Huh. “Would you eat me if I was a grilled shrimp?”

Jay thinks about it. He keeps thinking until you start smelling something burning. “I’d keep you safe in my pantry,” he finally answers. 

“So you’ll just let me spoil over and die?”

His expression drops. “Fuck.” The shrimp is unsalvageable. “I guess I’d have to eat you.”

The rest of dinner goes on as you expect. Jay and Beomgyu take turns over the grill until Jake thought he’d be naturally gifted over the fire and ended up making charcoal with the last pack of galbi (“It’s fine!” he said. “I’ll take care of it!”) and today’s heatwave suddenly becomes a whole lot hotter with the rising flame on the fucking grill right when Soobin brings out the marshmallows for dessert. It gets quickly defused by a fire-hydrant bearing Heeseung. Now your charcoal galbi has toxic frosting on them. This is the sign to move on to the next part of the program.

The set of log-themed chairs on the courtyard has a bonfire set-up at the center. Of course this unreasonably nice house has that. It’s already getting dark, ink seeping into the orange tintent sky. Jake decides to redeem himself after watching Heeseung fail to set up the chunks of wood for the nth time. “You don’t know how to start a fire? Dude, that’s so lame.” 

“You burnt all our remaining meat with those fire starting skills of yours,” Heeseung huffs, stepping aside for the self-proclaimed camping expert.

“You still ate them.” You’re pretty sure that isn’t healthy.

“Because you would’ve felt sad if I didn’t.”

“You’re both equally lame,” Beomgyu chides, plopping down beside you with a bag of chips that you unceremoniously dig your hand into. “You two haven’t even had your solo chapters yet.”

A flame erupts on the bonfire. Both of them turn to look at Beomgyu. “What?”

“What are we arguing about?” Jay joins in, looking a little too excited for the squabble.

“About the fact that I’m cooler than both Heeseung and Jake.”

Heeseung’s expression falls flat. “You dropped out to become a streamer.”

“Leave of absence! I took a leave of absence and I’m coming back next year!”

Sunghoon and Soobin are both just ignoring the mess, roasting their skewered marshmallows on the bonfire and you aspire to be that level of unbothered. “Let’s consult a professional’s opinion,” Jay suggests, and all their eyes immediately fall on you. “Who do you think is the coolest?” Apparently that professional is you.

“This is like asking which dwarf is the tallest midget,” you wrinkle your nose. “But alright. Why don’t we settle this like real men?”

“Arm wrestling?” Sunghoon jumps in.

“Cooking contest?” Heeseung pitches.

“Do you want us to beat the shit out of each other right now?” Jake’s eyes fly wide open, alarmed. “I don’t think that’s a healthy way of settling arguments.”

“The fuck? No,” you spit out. “Thirty minutes. Prepare a powerpoint presentation explaining why you’re the coolest loser. Convince me. Ten slides max. Good luck.”

Something about almost naked men scattered around your home premises, aggressively typing on their keyboards with so much concentration and determination is so funny. You’re enjoying the raw bag of marshmallows by yourself beside the fire, watching as Heeseung starts panicking when you yell out “Five minutes left!” and starts typing even more aggressively. It’s pretty entertaining. Why haven’t you done this before?

At some point Jake brings out a projector and a projector screen to the courtyard. Seems like the power is back on, and your classroom of death has been set in place.

“Okay. Who wants to go first?”

You’ve produced a clipboard while they were working very hard on the PPTs earlier, legs crossed, fire crackling in front of you, and you click the butt of your pen in intermittent seconds as you scroll your eyes from left to right across the six boys standing in front of you. Heeseung looks confident. Jay and Beomgyu, too. There’s sweat dripping down Sunghoon’s forehead and Jake is furiously flipping through his notepad like he’s cramming for a final exam. But the poor, unfortunate soul that just had to look away from your gaze is none other than—

“Choi Soobin.” He flinches, nearly letting go of the laptop he has clutched against his chest. “Give it a go. The rest of you sit down.”

He looks rattled. “I’m not— I’m not really good at presentations,” Soobin chokes out, and the rest disappear from his side.

You let your chin rest on your knuckles, leaning forward. “Are you forfeiting? Is this a forfeit I’m hearing?” He doesn’t respond. You sigh. “Choi Soobin, are you settling with a D? A tiny, miniscule, measly D?” Beomgyu lets out a snort. You shoot him a sharp stare. “The other Choi, please shut the fuck up unless you want me docking points from you. Choi number one, please start your presentation.

Beomgyu straightens in his seat and Soobin hesitantly clears his throat, turning towards the blank, white projector screen as he holds the clicker with a visibly shaky hand. “Good— good evening,” he starts. “My name is Choi Soobin, and today I was tasked to explain why I am the coolest housemate out of the six. The answer is I am not. I’m not very cool. But—”

When he clicks to the next slide, your clipboard clatters on the ground.

“But I do have a hedgehog, and that’s kinda cool?”

“Holy shit,” you exhale a breathy squeak, the picture of the rodent’s cute little snout occupying half of the large screen. Soobin cycles through a bunch of photos of his hedgehog and the various screams of delight you’re eliciting after each photo makes him smile a little bit more. “Look at that little guy! Oh my god. What’s his name? Where is he? Can I meet him? Please let me meet him, Soobin I am begging you, I will get on my knees for you.”

“His name is Odi and he’s currently living at my parents’ house,” he explains. “I’ll invite you sometime.”

“That’s cheating! This isn’t part of the guidelines!” Jake interrupts, pointing an accusatory finger at the photo of Soobin holding Odi in his hands. Your coos are unceasing.

Heeseung nods along. “Professor, I believe this is completely unrelated to our topic at hand.”

Soobin looks visibly offended. You straighten your expression and click your tongue. “Ahem,” you start. “As much as I believe that Odi is the darn cutest little shit to ever exist and I will die for him given the chance, Heeseung is right. Mr. Choi, I’m afraid I’d have to give you a C.”

He presses the clicker. The slide is back to the video of Odi running down a slide.

“Okay. B minus.”

Now it’s the one where he’s laying stomach-up on the floor.

“Fuck. God dammit. B plus and that’s it. Soobin, sit down. Heeseung, you’re up next.”

Soobin seems satisfied with the grade, dimples popping out with a smile as he takes Heeseung’s seat in the audience when the latter readies himself for his turn. He stifles out a cough-laugh, one corner of his mouth crookedly twitching upward, confidently sauntering up to the front with his iPad, and it’s mildly unsettling because he’s usually Nervous Boy #2. But it’s almost cheating how pretty his teeth are when he’s smiling. 

And apparently he’s aware of that fact. Because after projecting his title slide (LEE HEESEUNG 101: the anatomy of a Cool Guy™), the next thing that appears is actually a photo of his very charming smile, coupled with Chip Skylark’s “My Shiny Teeth and Me” as the background music for his scientifically-grounded explanation. The next slide is a zoom in of his eyes next to a photo of Bambi. He has a venn diagram. This is actually pretty compelling.

Heeseung is a good speaker. He’s really good. The rest of his presentation goes smoothly, finishing it up with a list of references in APA format. Jake and Jay give him a round of applause.  “If you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to answer them,” he smiles.

“That was a fantastic presentation, Mr. Lee. I particularly liked the part when you demonstrated your ability to make very impressive, but also very alarming sounds with your fingers.” You flip through your very blank clipboard, nodding and throwing out hums at the times you deem appropriate. “I’d give you an A plus, but...I have one question for you.”

He nods. “Yes?”

“Heeseung, can you hug me?”

It evidently catches him off-guard, just as you predicted— persona of confidence crashing down like a waterfall as he stutters out, “Wh—what?”

You clear your throat. “Only cool people are able to hug me. I need to confirm that you’re cool.”

“I can hug you!” Jake declares right next to you.

You blindly reach out your arm to give him a head pat. “See. Jake says he can hug me so he must be pretty cool. Heeseung, you can do the same, can’t you?

There it is. He’s back to being nervous and you feel like your job here is done. “O–of course,” he stifles out, following it with a strained laugh of weak incredulity. “Why wouldn’t I be able to hug you?”

“Then prove it.” You stretch out your arms, ready to squeeze and be squeezed. “Give me a big ‘ol squeeze, pretty boy.”

You stay like that for ten seconds as Heeseung remains glued to his spot in front, eyes shaking and nipping at the dead skin on his lips. You let your arms fall back to your sides. “Okay. C minus. Next.” His expression quickly transforms into offense.

“I feel like this grading system is a scam.”

“No hug, no opinion. Sit your ass down,” you click your tongue, smacking him with the clipboard when he weakly trudges back and squeezes next to Beomgyu on the crowded seat to your left with the box of snacks occupying most of the fake log, even though there’s clearly enough space next to you because Jay already started walking to the front even without your instruction.

Jay does not give an introduction, only a rough clear of his throat and he opens his presentation with just a slide occupied with his face. Slide two is another picture of his face, only slightly zoomed out. The next one has the hashtag JWU. Then there’s a full body mirror selfie.

The rest of the presentation proceeds in the same manner— a wordless slideshow of what is possibly his Instagram feed and before you know it, it’s already over. “Okay,” you exhale, pressing your palms together in front of your lips. “I understand that you are indeed a very handsome individual, Mr. Park, but what does that have to do with the assigned topic?”

“The question is why I am the coolest one here,” he says. “I’m cool because I’m Jay Park.”

It falls quiet.

You finally break the silence.

“Shit, that’s a pretty compelling argument.”

“This is bullshit!” Sunghoon argues. “He didn’t even say anything! There was no discussion! He should be disqualified.”

Jay remains unfazed. He defends with irrefutable wisdom, “Sometimes pictures speak louder than words.”

“Damn.” You let your clipboard fall to your lap. “I’m giving you an A.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Your decision elicits outrage from some of your students. “How is he getting a higher grade than me?!” one of them raises.

“He’s getting a higher grade because he doesn’t think I have cooties, Heeseung.” 

Heeseung throws his arms in the air in defeated frustration as Jay takes his snug seat right next to you again, a victorious smile gracing his face. You run your eyes through your scratch paper once more, pen tapping at the edge of the board. “Beomgyu, do you want to go next?” you ask, which is a mistake on your part because he starts acting just as obnoxious as Heeseung, which— if anything— just triggers your desire to make him crumble to his knees.

He even pulls out a lecture stick, testing it out by snapping it at full length on his palm. Is the fucker trying to go after your role as professor? Where the fuck did his glasses suddenly come from?

“Alright,” Beomgyu begins, the first slide displaying the words Why Choi Beomgyu is the coolest Housemate. “First thing’s first, does anyone in the audience know what my name is?”

“Oh, me!” Jake raises his hand. “Choi Beomgyu!”

“Correct!” The next slide appears when he hits the screen with the stick, revealing his name in a large, bold font with large spaces in between each syllable. “Choi. Beom. Gyu. Choi Beomgyu. Now, I’d like to direct your attention to this specific syllable right here—” he draws a circle around ‘Beom,’ “—what does Beom mean?”

“Offense,” Sunghoon answers. Beomgyu’s face scrunches up.

“What? Fuck, no. Another meaning— oh! Yes, Soobin hyung?”

“Tiger?”

His eyes brighten. “Exactly!” 

The next slide is a photo of a tiger on a field of green grass, grooming its fur as Beomgyu passionately rattles on with fun facts about the animal. You have no idea where this is going. “Tigers are some of the most amazing creatures on the planet, they are the largest members of the cat family and are renowned for their power and strength. As the largest member of the cat family, Tigers are strong, powerful and one of nature's most feared predators—”

“Did you get that from a website?” Jay interrupts.

Beomgyu dismisses him. “Yes, I did, but that’s not the point. The point is—”

Next slide. A hit from his lecture stick. It’s more text. Beom = Tiger. Beom = Choi Beomgyu’s cute nickname. Tiger = Beomgyu. 

“We have discussed that tigers are the coolest animals in the world. My name has tiger in it. Therefore I am the coolest person here. End of presentation. Thank you.”

He drops the stick to the ground and is about to walk away with Jake’s applause, but your penetrating stare stops him right before he reaches the crackling bonfire. You scribble on the clipboard before letting it settle face-down on your lap. You look up at him. “Beomgyu, are you a furry?”

Beomgyu freezes. He lets your question settle in his system before voicing out a very loud, very crunchy, “What the fuck?”

“Is this your way of telling us that you’re a furry?” 

“No! What are you talking about?” he hisses. “I’m just saying that since tigers are cool, that means I’m also cool and—”

“So, you’re identifying with a tiger?” you cut him off.

He presses his lips together, cautious. “Yes…”

“Because you have the word tiger in your name?”

“Yes.”

“And because they’re cool?”

“Yes. We’ve established that alr—”

“Okay, so you’re a furry?”

“Ye— no!” he yells out. “I’m not a fucking furry!”

“Understood. You’re a furry in denial.” You write something down on the clipboard. Beomgyu’s shoulders slacken in defeat. “I’m giving you a B plus. Take a seat, Tigerboy.” Though he grumbles in distaste, he listens to you anyway, trudging deflatedly back to his seat next to the equally grumbly Heeseung.

There are two people left to be victimized. Jake looks excited, so you don’t want to indulge his positive emotions. “Sunghoon,” you call out with a pleasant smile. He squeezes his eyes shut and mutters something under his breath before forcing himself up the log without you having to tell him. “Good boy. Go set up your thing.”

Unlike the rest, Sunghoon doesn’t have a laptop or phone or flash drive with him when he awkwardly takes the presenter spot in front. He’s standing on the balls of his feet, arms tucked behind his back and lips tightly pressed together nervously. “Mr Park,” you pull down your clipboard. “You’re free to project your slides.”

“Well,” he coughs out. “The thing is.”

“Yes?”

He exhales loudly. “I don’t have any slides.” You raise a brow. “I don’t know how to use powerpoint.”

You look at him. “I see.”

“I don’t know how to use this projector, either.”

You pause.

“Okay. I understand.” He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Alright, next present—”

“Wait!” Sunghoon stops you. “I can still give my presentation, I don’t need any dumb slides! I’m just as cool, if not cooler than the rest of them, so you can’t just skip over me.”

“Mr. Park,” you start. “Unfortunately, one of the criteria for this presentation is the quality and organization of your slides. I do not see any slides being presented, Mr. Park. You may present next time once you’re fully prepared.”

“What about Jay?” he tries to reason. “He just showed you a preview of his camera roll!”

The man in question has his mouth hanging open, pausing in the middle of stuffing a nicely toasted marshmallow into his mouth. You let out a sigh. “He had philosophy, Mr. Park. Philosophy,” you explain. “Do you have philosophy? Are you confident that you can convince me with your words alone? Without the help of cute animals and pictures of your pretty face?”

At the mention of his face, his knitted brows of frustration quickly melt into faint pink hues dusting his cheeks. You sniffle a little, rubbing a finger under your nose as you flip through the next page of the clipboard that’s resting on your lap. “Meet me in my office after class,” you tell him. Sunghoon grunts and stomps back to his seat in defeat.

“This sucks balls.”

“You have quite a few options to pick and choose from here,” you hum. “Jake, you’re the last one up. Please tell me you have a presentation prepared.”

“I do, and it’s gonna blow your mind,” he grins.

“Looking forward to it.” You watch blankly as Jake runs up to the front to connect his laptop to the projector, an excited bounce in his every movement and you start wondering how you can shatter this one’s hopes and dreams.

He asks if he can start. You give him a nod. At the click of a button, something boomerangs into the blank screen with 2007 Windows graphics and animation. The atrocious mismatch of fonts say Jake Sim is the coolest one here and here’s why.

“Reason number one—” Jake starts his presentation, turning over to the next slide and your vision is attacked with more outdated graphics, more jarring transitions and animations. “—I’m super funny. Allow me to demonstrate.” He begins by clearing his throat. “What did the Italian chef get sent to jail for?”

“What?” you go along.

“Too much assault.”

An assault is also a very proper descriptor for his PPT aesthetic. An assault to your eyes. It’s like watching a car crash that you can’t look away from even if you try. Reason number two is that he has a great smile (he does). Reason number three is because he has a dog (he also does). Reason number four doesn’t exist because he miscounted and skipped over to Reason number five.

“And lastly, Reason number ten—”

He takes something out of his pockets. It’s a couple dozen bills being thrown into the air.

“I have a lot of money.”

The rest of the boys are quiet. Jake grows quiet too, chest rising and falling after that very enthusiastic presentation and his wide grin slowly melts into that muddled with nervousness and unease because you aren’t saying anything yet— just looking at him with stern eyes and a sharp gaze. “W-well?” he rasps. “How did I do…?”

“How much?” you ask. He cocks his head in confusion. “How much money do you have?”

“Oh.” Jake blinks, now understanding. “I don’t know but it’s a lot.”

Your eyes sparkle, posture straightening. “Will you give me some of that money?” The unease has left Jake and has now transferred to the other five boys around you. Oh boy. Oh no, their eyes all seem to be saying.

“Sure, why not.”

You clap your hands together. “Jake wins. Class dismissed. Good night.”

It doesn’t take long for chaos to break out.

Heeseung and Jay are demanding for a recount (there is nothing to count except the sweet, sweet cash you’ll be receiving) and Beomgyu accuses you of being a slave to capitalism (that should’ve been evident from how you tried to scam money out of them with nudity and a jar on your first week here). Soobin starts clearing up the projector set-up and Sunghoon is on his knees begging for another chance to do his presentation as you watch the digits on your phone screen bump up in real-time when Jake wires you a decent chunk from his bank account.

Another successful day at the residence. This heatwave is better than you thought.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Eight

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Some frisky business. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.1k

A/N : well, I definitely enjoyed writing this chapter, guess why. 😅 also sorry it got so long

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN

Master List

Chapter Eight

Come Monday morning, it was as if nothing had happened.

You were already at your desk when Billy arrived, he hadn’t offered to pick you up because he’d had a meeting first thing on the other side of the city, so you’d been sitting working diligently for over an hour before the elevator dinged, signaling his arrival. Your cheeks instantly started to heat at the sight of him, his own cheeks pinkened by the cold, and his dark eyes burning with all of their usual intensity.

“Good morning,” he said, shrugging off his coat.

You waited with bated breath, expecting - what, you weren’t entirely sure. Something. Some acknowledgement of the way he’d kissed you, or maybe an explanation of why he’d left so abruptly. Instead, there was nothing.

“Did VDK email yet?” He asked.

All you could do was stare at him as a couple of seconds ticked by.

Had you imagined it? Were you misremembering it?

No. No. He’d never kissed you like that before, never pressed you against a wall as if he wanted to devour you whole.

(He didn’t want to acknowledge it. It had meant nothing to him.)

“Yes,” you finally found your voice. “They want to do it on Thursday, but I - I didn’t accept yet because I know you’re usually busy on Thursday evenings...” 

Billy ran his teeth over his lower lip, giving it more consideration than you expected. You hadn’t thought to ask what it was he did on Thursday evenings but, now, you found yourself wondering. What could it possibly be that had him hesitating to agree to the very thing he’d been after for weeks?

“Tell them we’ll be there,” he eventually said.

At some point, he’d come to linger behind you, looking at the email you’d pulled up on your laptop, watching as you diligently started to type up a response.

“Do you have something to wear?” He asked as you hit send.

You glanced up, over your shoulder at him, discomfort clear on your face. You didn’t want him to rush off and buy you another obscenely expensive dress.

“I’ll find something, don’t worry,” you answered.

“If you need to, I can -”

“Billy, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” he relented, leaving it at that.

But, still, he lingered by your desk almost expectantly.

(Did he want you to bring up this kiss? Could you bring it up without dying of embarrassment? No. No, if Billy wanted to talk about it, then he had to be the one to bring it up.)

“Did you have breakfast?” Is what you decided to ask, blurring the line between the part of you that was still his PA and the part of you that now genuinely seemed to worry that he might not have eaten anything that morning.

“No, just piss-awful coffee at the meeting,” he shrugged.

You bit back the comment that you wanted to make, reminding yourself that he was a fully grown man who was more than capable of looking after himself.

“Okay, I’ll go get you a pastry and a coffee,” you told him.

Billy barely moved as you slid back your seat and stood, and you found yourself standing directly in front of him with little space between you. His jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on yours, but you refused to ask why, refused to ask what he expected from you. 

If he wanted to talk about the kiss, he’d need to be the one to start. Simple as that.

When you said nothing, he stepped back and turned, not giving you another glance as he slipped into his office.

Okay, so that was how things were going to be. You shook your head and headed for the elevator, forgoing grabbing your coat and wasting time bundling up - you were only running across the street, how bad could it be?

Bad, as it turned out. 

And it only got worse from there.

Carl gave you a look as you headed for the doors, but you didn’t realise what the look was for until you stepped out into the bitter cold wind. It was a bad idea, a stupid idea, but it would take far too long to go back upstairs to grab your coat. 

Wrapping your arms across your chest, you hurried across the street to The Bean Grinder, your thin blouse and skirt doing little to ward off the cold. 

You were shivering as you stood in line and, for one in your life, found yourself glad to be stuck behind so many undecided customers, basking in the warmth of the coffee shop for as long as possible. 

The wind was biting on your face as you struggled to hurry back to the Anvil building, Billy’s coffee in one hand and a bag containing a bearclaw in the other. You tried your best to ignore it and pretend like the cold wasn’t causing your lungs to ache in your chest - it was only across the street, you’d be fine, you told yourself.

And you were.

You were fine, but your bad luck still wasn’t over.

“What’s going on?” You asked Carl when you noticed a few people standing around by the elevator.

“Elevator maintenance check,” he explained. “We did send out an email about it last week -”

“Shit, I completely forgot,” you said, letting out an awkward groan.

It wasn’t like you to forget - in fact, you were all but certain you’d even written it on your desk calendar so you wouldn’t forget. But you’d been so eager to get out of the office and away from - from whatever that had been with Billy, that you hadn’t even thought about it.

Carl gave you a sympathetic look. “It’s probably going to take at least another twenty minutes. I can call upstairs, let Mr Russo know that you’re -”

“No,” you interrupted. “It’s fine. I’ll take the stairs.”

“Are you sure?” He asked before hesitating. “You’re already looking a little out of breath.”

“I’m fine. Really. It’s just the cold,” you answered, shrugging it off and saying a hasty goodbye as you headed towards the stairwell, trying not to curse under your breath until you were up at least one floor.

It certainly helped you warm up, but climbing up to the seventh floor caused the ache in your lungs to intensify and, by the time you got back to the office, you were more than a little winded.

Billy’s eyes were fixed on his laptop as you entered his office and he didn’t look up as you approached his desk. It wasn’t until you placed his drink and the paper bag containing the bearclaw down that his eyes finally lifted and confusion filled his face.

You didn’t understand why he was staring until he spoke. 

“Are you okay?”

You realised that you were wheezing and, in an act of utter stupidity, you tried to even out your breathing by forcing a deep breath, and that just made things worse. You pressed a hand to your mouth and tried to stifle a cough.

“I-I’m fine,” you managed, holding back a cough. “Just a-a little out of breath.”

He moved before you could even blink, standing and taking hold of your arms, guiding you into his chair. The leather was warm and soft, and you wanted nothing more than to sink back into it but you couldn’t, not when Billy crouched in front of you and took your face in his hands.

His eyes searched yours, though you had no idea what he was looking for.

Billy didn’t speak, nor did he ask you to try to. He just stayed with you, his thumb tenderly brushing your cheek as your breathing slowly levelled out.

He held your gaze and you found that, even though you wanted to, you couldn’t look away. You didn’t know what was going on behind those dark eyes, what thoughts were running through his head, but you felt seen, exposed.

Your hand somehow ended up on his, holding it against your cheek like some part of you was scared he’d pull away again, that he’d leave you reeling just like he had the night before.

It didn’t take long for your breathing to settle and your chest to stop aching.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

What’s wrong and not are you okay. It was the second time he’d seen you like this and Billy wasn’t an idiot, he’d obviously realised that there was some underlying cause you weren’t telling him about.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” you lied. “I forgot to put my coat on when I went across the street, and I had to use the stairs because they’re doing a maintenance check on the elevator -”

“You should have waited for them to finish. It only takes them like twenty minutes.”

There was a firmness in his voice that you didn’t expect, that you didn’t appreciate. 

“Your coffee would’ve gotten cold,” you answered back, trying to contain your own annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy muttered, pulling away from you and standing. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked away from you for a moment. “Do you think I care about hot coffee when you’re wheezing up a lung in my office?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. Honestly, you had no idea what Billy cared about.

“You skipped breakfast,” you said, not entirely sure why that was what bothered you.

His lips parted but, whatever he’d been wanting to say never came. He looked... confused, like he couldn’t understand why you even cared that he hadn’t eaten. But, he didn’t ask why, and you were glad because you didn’t have an answer.

“Go get your things,” he said after an uncomfortable pause.

“What? Why?” You asked.

“Because I’m taking you home.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you protested, getting to your feet. “I don’t want any preferential treatment or -”

“I can’t work if I’m worrying about you,” Billy snapped.

And - 

You were left so stunned that you didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t reconcile what he was saying and how he was acting with what you thought you knew about him, about your ‘relationship’. In no scenario could you imagine Billy actually worrying about you so, of course, you didn’t know what to say.

“I -” you tried.

“Please, just... don’t fight me on this?”

All you could do was stare, rendered speechless by the pleading look on his face. You didn’t want to leave work early and you certainly didn’t need to, but seeing Billy looking almost distressed by it all left you feeling like you couldn’t refuse.

You took a moment to consider him, to consider everything you knew about him, both as your boss and as a person. Only a few weeks ago, you’d have known exactly how to temper his mood and get the day back on track, but this was something new, something different. You didn’t understand this.

“The elevator’s still out of order,” was all you could think to say.

But, still, you moved, making your way out of his office to collect your things. You dropped your laptop into your bag, deciding that you’d carry on your work from home - with or without his permission. As you pulled on your coat, you heard him on the phone, calling down to the lobby to ask if the elevator was working again.

You perched on the edge of your desk as you waited, silently cursing yourself for letting all of this happen. You should’ve worn your coat, should’ve waited for the elevator - or at least remembered that it was being checked before offering to go for coffee.

Billy’s phone rang and, a few seconds later, he was striding out of his office, pulling on his coat. 

He told you to follow and you did, letting him usher you into the now-running again elevator with a hand on your back. Neither of you spoke or even seemed to know what to say as the elevator descended.

All you could think about was whether he’d eaten his bearclaw.

As the doors opened, you just... followed. You moved on autopilot, not sure what else you were supposed to do. The car was already waiting and you were quickly bundled inside. And, still, you remained silent.

The quiet was enough to have your paranoia rearing its ugly head; he thought you couldn’t look after yourself, that you were burdensome. 

Neither of you spoke until you were in your apartment, completely alone.

“You’re mad at me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

You watched him as he moved through your apartment like he owned it, heading into the kitchen and grabbing two mugs to make coffee.

“I’m not mad,” you answered, shrugging off your coat and following him into the kitchen. “I just don’t need you to look after me.”

It didn’t even occur to you that you were echoing something he’d said to you only a week before.

“When was the last time you let anyone look after you?”

It wasn’t a jab at you, he wasn’t accusing you of anything, but there was some hidden depth to the question. He was genuinely asking, though from the tone of his voice, he already seemed to know the answer. An answer that you refused to give him. 

Never. 

Never in your adult life had you allowed someone to look after you.

And you weren’t about to start now, especially not with your boss, the man who was paying you to fake being in a relationship with him.

You let out a sigh and turned away from him, heading towards the sofa. It wasn’t long before he joined you, sitting beside you, a hot mug of coffee in each hand. He handed you yours without a word and you didn’t even dare to think about how he’d not only come to learn exactly how you took your coffee, but where everything was in your kitchen so he could make it.

While you slowly sipped your drink, you both remained silent, neither sure what to say to the other.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Frank Castle’s secretary, and you let out a soft sigh.

“Mr Castle would like to see you before this afternoon’s meeting,” you said, not looking up from your phone.

Then it was Billy’s turn to sigh, and that sigh said more than words ever could. You knew he didn’t want you working, that he’d brought you home specifically to stop you, but you couldn’t because, without you, his day didn’t run smoothly.

He finished his coffee and got to his feet.

“Please at least try to get some rest,” he said, resigned to the fact that you were going to continue working regardless of what he said. “And if you’re not feeling well tomorrow -”

“I told you, I’m -”

“If you’re not feeling well tomorrow,” he repeated, “call in sick.”

“Fine.”

You both already knew that you wouldn’t but it wasn’t worth the argument.

He insisted that you stayed where you were as he let himself out and you were glad, not sure you could handle a repeat performance of last night's kiss by the door.

The next day you were back at your desk before Billy even got to the office, his coffee and pastry, a pain au chocolat today, waiting for him on his desk. He slowed as he walked past you to his office but he didn’t say anything other than a brusque good morning to you.

Fortunately, over the next few days he warmed to you again, seeming to want to pretend that it had never happened. And, while it wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with it, you were more than happy to just slip back into things, deciding to ignore everything from the kiss onwards.

You didn’t spend much time with each other out of work, though that was through no fault of Billy’s. It seemed like every day, something would come up that demanded his attention, keeping him at his desk late into the night and, when you offered to stay late to help him, he’d send you home in his car.

By the time Thursday evening rolled around, you weren’t sure if Billy would be in any fit state for the VDK dinner, but there he was, waiting next to his car by the curb as you stepped outside.

As he had the night of the gala, Billy asked that you pack a bag and spend the night at his apartment and, despite everything, you were more than happy to after waking up that morning to find that the heating in your apartment wasn’t working.

His eyes widened as you approached, taking in the sight of you and what you were wearing. The dress that he’d bought you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t speak at all until you were both in the car and the driver had started the engine.

“I thought you didn’t like that dress,” he said.

“I never said that. I said it was too expensive.”

He was silent for a few seconds before; “I’m glad you kept it, you look amazing.”

You smiled at him, finally taking a moment to appreciate how good he looked, his charcoal suit immaculately hugging his figure and not a dark hair out of place. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought about it, but you found yourself considering how handsome he was as he glanced out the window, but he was only beautiful when he looked at you and smiled in return.

Soon, and for the second time in less than a week, you found yourself outside the VDK Manhattan Hotel. Fortunately, this time there was no fanfare as you approached the doors, no red carpet or lines of photographers but, just like the night of the gala, you entered with Billy’s hand in yours.

You were met by a member of the hotel staff and taken in the elevator up to the penthouse.

Your hand gripped Billy’s as you stepped out into the most lavish looking hotel suite that you’d ever seen - which, admittedly, wasn't saying a lot as you couldn’t remember ever seeing the inside of a hotel suite before, let alone a penthouse suite. It even put Billy’s apartment to shame, but you weren’t given time to really appreciate it.

“There you are, just in time,” Catherine Van Der Koy, said as she approached you, “we were just about to have some drinks before dinner.”

You and Billy both greeted her before you found yourselves being separated.

“William, I believe you’re acquainted with my son-in-law and grandson?” She said, motioning to a group of men sitting on the sofa drinking what looked to be scotch. Billy nodded. “Good, go and have a drink while we catch up.”

He started to move but, for a moment, you were reluctant to let go of his hand. You didn’t want him to leave your side, and you felt his hand squeeze yours in silent apology just before his fingers slipped away. 

“Don’t worry,” Catherine said as you watched him go, “they’ve all promised to be on their best behaviour tonight.”

That did nothing to settle your nerves, even though you knew that Billy was more than capable of handling himself. Knowing how some of these people saw him, you didn’t want to leave Billy to face them alone, but Catherine took your arm and led you into the suite’s large dining room where a group of mostly women sat drinking and chatting.

“Have you ever stayed in one of our hotels before?” Catherine asked.

“No,” you answered, feeling your cheeks start to warm, “they’re a little out of my price range.”

“Not any more, I’ll bet,” said an unfamiliar voice.

A young woman stepped in front of you. She had a smirk on her lips and you couldn’t decide if she was joking or if there was something more pointed to the comment. 

“This is my granddaughter Leah,” Catherine said.

You introduced yourself but, clearly, it wasn’t necessary. Leah Van Der Koy knew all about you. She had an almost nasal way of speaking that made every comment sound like it was a thinly veiled barb, but you quickly realised that it was just the way she spoke.

Catherine remained silent as Leah brought up things she’d seen on the gossip blogs about you and Billy, pointing out how cute the pair of you had looked together leaving the movie festival you’d attended a couple of weeks ago.

“Leah is in charge of VDK’s social media,” Catherine explained. “She likes to keep her finger on the pulse.”

On the pulse of what exactly, you didn’t dare ask.

“You have no idea how many people are losing their minds over you right now,” Leah told you. “Do you have TikTok or Insta?”

You shook your head, not sure why she wanted to know or why anyone would be losing their minds over you.

“You should get on it,” Leah continued. “With all the attention you’re getting right now, you could make a killing as an influencer.”

It took every ounce of composure you had not to cringe at the thought. Just the idea made you feel ill - you didn’t like the attention and you certainly didn’t want to attract more of it.

“Give me your phone?” She asked and, for reasons you couldn’t even begin to understand, you did. She tapped the screen a few times before handing it back to you. “I put my number in there, let me know if you ever need any social media advice.”

“Leah dear, stop harassing your grandmother’s guest.”

Another woman appeared behind Leah and just one look at her told you that she was Leah’s mother, Catherine’s daughter. They all had the same high cheekbones and delicate noses.

“This is my daughter Faye,” Catherine offered.

Again, you introduced yourself.

“I love your dress,” Faye said. “It looks like a Sophie Harrington piece.”

“Oh, uh -” you stumbled over your words, looking down at yourself as you tried to remember the name of the boutique Billy’ had bought it from, “- I think that was where it came from?” 

“Faye has always had an eye for fashion and design,” Catherine explained with a noticeable degree of pride in her voice. “She’s in charge of a lot of the interior design of our hotels.” She then paused and upon noticing your discomfort, waved away her daughter and granddaughter. “Let’s get a drink.”

You nodded as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

The dining room had its own bar and bartender - you didn’t dare ask if he came included in the nightly price of the room, as you already felt like you were embarrassing yourself enough.

“You look positively terrified.”

Her words pulled you back to the moment and the heat across your cheeks intensified.

“Sorry. I’m just -” again you awkwardly swallowed again, “- I’m not really used to... all this.” 

“What part of it is bothering you?” She asked, curious and thankfully not offended.

“Big dinner parties with people I don’t know, people who already know me even though I’ve never met them, people knowing more about my dress than I do -”

“Take a breath,” she interrupted.

You realised belatedly that you’d probably sounded like you were panicking or freaking out, and forced yourself to take a slow breath.

“I shouldn’t have worn this dress,” you muttered a moment later.

“Why not?”

“Because Billy bought it for me.” There was no point in lying, everyone there probably knew that there was no way you could have afforded to buy it for yourself.

“What difference does that make?”

“It’s too expensive,” you answered. “Everyone will think I just want Billy’s money.”

Catherine studied you for a moment and then handed you a wine glass. You’d been so lost in your own awkwardness that you hadn’t even realised she’d asked the bartender for a drink for you.

“Does he buy you a lot of things?” She asked.

“No,” you quickly answered. “And I didn’t even want him to buy this. I told him to take it back, but he wouldn’t. I only wore it tonight because he’s had a rough week and I thought it might cheer him up.”

You hadn’t told Billy that was the reason you’d chosen to wear it. Hell, you’d barely even admitted it to yourself. But it had been a difficult week and you’d thought your discomfort would be worth it just to see him smile.

“Did it?” She asked before clarifying. “Cheer him up?”

“I - I hope so,” you said, finding your eyes drifting towards the door, wondering how Billy was getting on.

“It’s not easy - loving someone who gives so much of themselves to their work.”

Your gaze dropped and you bit your lip, a tidal wave of embarrassment washing over you. You were embarrassed by the lie, by how the dishonesty made you feel. That was all. That  was what the feeling in your stomach was, and that was why your heart seemed to stutter. It wasn’t that you loved him or that you were in love with him.

No.

While there might have been some feelings of fondness, closeness even, what you felt wasn’t love. And whatever Billy felt for you...

“Oh dear,” Catherine said, pulling you back to the moment, “has he not said the words yet? You mustn’t let that discourage you, men like William speak with actions before words.”

Actions.

Actions like pressing you against a wall and kissing you like his life depended on it?

“Come and sit,” she instructed and, again, you followed her, joining the rest of the group sitting around the table.

You made small talk with the group but, mostly, you were happy to just fade into the background, mostly ignored. After about forty minutes, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom but, instead of returning to the dining room straight away, you found yourself exploring the suite and ending up on the balcony.

It looked out over Central Park - though the low light made it hard to anything beyond the lit paths that weaved through the park, you imagined that the view was stunning during the day.

You hadn’t meant to linger, but the cold night air was a relief and the city noises were calming after the constant chatter and laughter inside.

You didn’t hear someone else step out onto the balcony, you hadn’t even noticed that there was a door besides the one you’d used, but you recognised his voice immediately. 

“Little dove,” he muttered softly, causing your heart to skip a beat.

Turning, you watched as Billy approached you.

“What are you doing out here alone?” He asked.

“I -” you started to answer but faltered when he placed a warm hand on your bare arm, “- I just needed to get some air.”

“You’re cold.” Statement, not question. And before you could answer, he’d taken off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders. 

Part of you wanted to protest, wanted to worry about him getting cold, but his jacket was so soft, so warm, and it smelled like his cologne, and once it was draped around you, you didn’t want to give it back.

Despite his jacket, you shivered, and Billy stepped closer, heat radiating from his body.

“How’s it going?” He asked softly, leaning closer as if he was worried you’d be overheard,  even though you were completely alone.

“Good, I think...” you answered just as softly, barely noticing that your eyes were fixed on his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

You wanted to hate how easily he could see through you, how he’d gotten better at understanding you in the weeks that you’d spent together, but you couldn’t. You’d wanted him to see you as a person and, now, he did.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I don’t feel like I belong in your world,” you confessed softly. “It’s exhausting.”

“I don’t feel like I belong either,” Billy offered.

Still, you couldn’t look him in the eye, knowing that you’d melt the moment that you did. You felt ridiculous for letting what Catherine had said get to you, but now you were overthinking every little thing he did, wondering if -

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

He didn’t love you. He wasn’t in love with you.

And you didn’t love him.

None of it was real - he’d told you himself, he found it easy to lie, and that was all it was. A lie. A fiction.

But, when you felt fingers beneath your chin, urging you to look up, you did. And when your eyes met his - yeah, as you’d feared, butterflies took flight in your stomach and your breath caught. The darkness of the night turned his eyes even darker but, still, they seemed to spark and burn when he looked at you.

“You belong here with me,” he said.

Before you could speak, the space between you disappeared. You weren’t sure which of you moved first, but his lips were soon on yours.

It was soft and slow, his tongue coaxing your lips apart so you could sink into a deeper kiss. You could taste the scotch he’d been drinking, and you were sure he could taste your wine. It was the excuse that you’d use for all of this - you’d both been drinking on empty stomachs.

And, besides, it was all for show. (Even though no one was watching, it was all for show.)

You pulled him closer, letting his body pin you against the balcony’s ledge. Even if it was just for show, there was nothing to say you couldn’t enjoy it, nothing to silence that voice in your head that demanded more, more, more.

It felt like a slow descent into madness, the kiss turning more heated the longer it continued, and you lost yourself to the fantasy, to the idea that you could belong with Billy.

You gripped him tight as you were lifted and placed on the ledge, the cold metal railing at your back as Billy stepped between your legs.

He’d never been so close before but, somehow, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel more of his body against your, you wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, his -

A soft noise escaped you into the kiss as his hand started to blaze a trail up your thigh, slowing only a fraction before dipping beneath the hem of your dress. Your cheeks heated, and some small part of you knew that you should pull away, tell him to stop, but it was easily drowned out and overruled by the part of you that wanted.

His hand continued upwards and your heart raced faster. You knew what he’d find if his fingers reached your panties. The lace was already starting to soak with your arousal, and you should have been embarrassed at how wet you were just from one little kiss.

Billy nipped at your lip, drawing another noise from you, something a little louder and a lot more desperate, before plunging his tongue back into the warmth of your mouth.

Want me, every fibre of your being screamed against your better judgement, leaving you feeling so needy and desperate for something that wasn’t even real. You held him tighter, pulled him closer, your tongue greedy against his. You parted your legs a little wider, making room for his hand as his fingers finally reached the edge of your panties.

The first brush of his fingertips through the wet lace had your back aching, pushing yourself into his touch, his body, into everything that was Billy Russo.

Then came a sound, a voice, that had both Billy’s hand and lips pulling away from you.

Faye Van Der Koy telling you both that dinner was about to be served.

The weight of everything that had just happened hit you like a ton of bricks. You turned your head, looking away from Billy as shame filled your whole body. He tensed and pulled back.

“Sorry,” he said.

Sorry.

... what was he sorry for?

(For getting carried away, for doing exactly what you’d told him he couldn’t do, for treating you like an object for his pleasure. He was sorry because it wasn’t real and now you’d have to face the consequences.)

You held your breath when you felt his hands on your hips, lifting you down from the ledge, and when you looked at him again, you found that he looked almost as lost as you felt.

“I -” he started.

“We should go inside.”

Whatever he wanted to say, you were certain that you didn’t want to hear it.

Billy hesitated for a beat before nodding, clumsily taking your hand in his and leading you back inside.

Catherine Van Der Koy gave you a telling smirk as you and Billy took your seats at the table and, as the food was served, you felt like everyone at the table was staring at you. You didn’t realise your entire body was tensed until you felt Billy’s hand on your thigh beneath the table, offering a gentle but reassuring squeeze.

The conversation jumped around over dinner and you were happy to just silently observe it while you ate. They talked about business, politics, and the social scene. You paid attention, filing away everything that you thought might be important, and only speaking when a question was directly posed to you.

For someone who’d told you that he didn’t belong there, Billy had an infinitely easier time inserting himself into the conversation. Unlike you, he had limitless reserves of confidence.

Once dinner was over and fresh drinks were served, Billy’s arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. 

It was all for show, but you were so exhausted by everything that you were more than happy to rest your head against his shoulder, hoping that the night would soon be over.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Billy shifted to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You okay, little dove?” He asked.

The pet name had your heart skipping a beat and you sank closer.

“Fine, just tired,” you answered.

“Do you want to go soon?” His voice was soft and full of a sort of caring that always caught you off-guard.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t want to ruin the evening,” you said.

“Nonsense,” Catherine interjected. You hadn’t even realised she’d been listening. “I take it you’re both working in the morning.”

“We are,” Billy answered.

“But you’re the boss, why not just give yourself the day off?” Leah asked from the other side of the table.

“I would,” he said, implying that he wasn’t the one that had an issue with it. 

“I’ve told you,” you said directly at Billy despite the fact that most of the table was listening, “I like to keep our professional and personal lives separate. Besides, Anvil would crumble if I took a day off.”

It was a gross overstatement and you found yourself grinning at Billy and - and then he let out one of those laughs and pressed his lips to your forehead again.

“She’s right,” he conceded, “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”

There was truth in his words, but you didn’t want to think too much about why.

After a few more minutes, the two of you were on your feet, the Van Der Koy’s wishing you both goodnight with promises being thrown out about more dinners and social events in future. Catherine escorted you both to the lift, waiting with you, and putting the full weight of her scrutiny on Billy.

“William, when you propose to this girl, do make sure that it’s somewhere romantic. She deserves it,” Catherine said, smirking as Billy’s face paled at the suggestion.

But any shock he felt was short lived and he quickly rebounded with; “first I need to convince her to move in with me.”

Suddenly it was Catherine’s turn to look shocked, her attention quickly turning back to you as your cheeks heated. 

Thankfully the elevator arrived before you had to try and think of a way to explain it to her. You were quickly ushered inside and Catherine promised to be in touch to see you both soon. 

When the doors slid shut, you let out a sigh of relief.

“I think that went well,” Billy muttered, letting out an exhausted sigh of his own.

A/N : 😅 I think at this point I'm enjoying torturing these two far more than I should be. Next chapter might make some of you scream a little but please don't worry, it's all part of my master plan. Also those wondering about readers mysterious condition, that will all be addressed later on, don't worry. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. (Also sorry that I keep cock-blocking Billy in all of my fics)

As ever I adore you for your likes/comments/reblogs and I can't wait to hear your reactions to the balcony scene. Have a great weekend everyone!!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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