#this shit might actually stay with me forever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 4 months ago

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hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him.

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened?

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough.

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop.

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes.

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him.

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was.

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again.

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again.

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table.

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world.

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms.

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst

2K notes · View notes

iamumbra195 · 9 months ago

Text

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering their phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

#school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg #sbg (webtoon)#ashlyn banner #aiden clark #ben clark #taylor hernandez #tyler hernandez #logan fields #mike banner #emma banner #i love those two so much #incorrect quotes #sbg incorrect quotes #incorrect sbg quotes #aidlyn #ashden

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babeforjjmaybanks · 16 days ago

Text

INTO IT ੭* ‧₊°

part 2 of this!

pairing: frat!rafe x shy!femreader ౨ৎ

summary: after you crowd his mind for weeks, rafe invites you to one of his famous ragers and things get a little crazy.

warning(s): heavy drug use, p in v sex (protected), boob sucking, alcohol, body shots, reader almost gets laced-, alot of swearing, praise kink, fighting/arguing, biting (hickeys), gagging, mentions of vomiting, power trip(?), size kink, rafe is a hornball, ass grabbing, oral (f receiving), face grabbing, hair pulling, slight choking, breeding kink if you squint, possessive rafe, crying, nail digging/scratching, rafe spits on a guy- they're intoxicated but reader verbally consents!

wow that's a lot ..

mentions of: y/n, gorgeous, rafey, pretty, slut, sexy, princess, girlfriend, mama (once or twice), sweet girl, wife, good girl, baby, sweetheart ౨ৎ

a/n: I didn't even bother proofreading this, sorry for mistakes! this took so long to write ngl, low-key horribly written.. this might be the freakiest thing i've ever written. but as usual, hope you enjoy & leave notes! <3 taglist: @maybankslover

word count: 3626

divider by: @im4yeons

"you want me to do what?"

y/n and rafe thankfully had a week off school. and rafe, like the frat boy he is, decides to throw a rager. and of course he wanted her to come! after their last interaction, rafe was busy juggling football and his father, and y/n was busy keeping her stable reputation. they hadn't had an actual conversation in weeks. just speaking to each other in the hallway and texting during the day didn't give rafe much to jack off about.

that isn't the only reason he wanted to see her of course, he had grown fond of her. over the span of a few months, he was completely whipped. even though he was still scared to ask her out, to him, he was hers and she was his.

he hadn't stopped thinking about her since that night as if it wasn't bad before that. he noted the times she woke up, her class routes, and what time she went to sleep. always making sure she had eaten and sending her money even though she tells him not to, like a boyfriend would. since they couldn't find time to study together, he actually took it upon himself to open a book. it didn't have the same effect, of course, but it was something.

"oh come onnn sweetheart, live a little. I haven't seen you in forever it's driving me fuckin' crazy." on the other side of the phone rafe ran a hand through his curtain bangs and tossed his head back in frustration. “you just saw me two hours ago, rafey.”

y/n laid on her stomach kicking her feet back and forth, twirling her hair and giggling. her two friends stayed silent, teasing and mocking her quietly making faces. sarah and kiara were her closest friends, they all had honors classes together and would sometimes study and gossip in the library during and after school hours. ever since she started “seeing” rafe, sarah noticed an improvement in his moods. so, like any sister, she wanted to know all the details. they were practically hanging out every day and almost got kicked out of the library once.

“school doesn’t count, I need to see you, feel you.” rafe always had a short temper and even worse patience, but for you? he was willing to wait days, weeks, maybe even months aslong as it meant he got to see you. he knew how much your grades meant to you, so he never texted you during study hours. even though he secretly wanted to talk every second of the day, he’d never admit it. how shameful it was whenever you were out and he heard a male voice on the other end, he swore he could feel every vein popping out of his neck.

“okay, since you’re so eager, i’ll go. what time do I need to be there?” rafe let out a chuckle, a smirk on his face already imagining his big hands on your waist, fitting so perfectly. “hello? you still there?” rafe snapped out of his perverted trance. “shit— yeah my bad, party starts at 10 ends whenever I want it to. dress however you want, you look good in anything.” y/n giggled and rolled her eyes, “okay, see you then.” “alright, bye pretty.” you smile and hang up the phone, as usual, because he never hangs up on you. atleast not since that time you were about to say something and he hung up in your face and wouldn’t stop apologizing.

you checked the time, it was 6pm. It took sarah about 2 hours to curl her hair, an hour for kiara to decide what to wear, and it took all of you combined just about 4 hours to get ready.

so for the next four hours, you mentally prepared yourself to go to your first rafe cameron rager.

y/n stood in front of the mirror, brushing through her damp hair with a slightly nervous look on her face. the excitement of the night’s party thrown by rafe and sarah was definitely building, but so were the butterflies in her stomach. she wasn’t sure what to wear or how to make sure she looked her best. sarah, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, flipped through a few dresses, occasionally holding one up to y/n for her approval. meanwhile, kiara was by the closet, pulling out accessories and chatting with her.

“I still can’t believe rafe’s throwing this huge party, well i can, but I can’t believe he invited me.” she muttered, her eyes flicking back to her reflection. “what if I don’t look okay? what if I don’t fit in? oh my God what if I throw up or something?!”

sarah looked up from the bed and gave you a reassuring smile. “of course, you’ll look amazing,” she said, her voice warm with confidence. “you’re y/n—you can’t not look good. besides, everyone’s going to be too busy trying to figure out if I’m going to make it through the night without embarrassing myself.” she winked playfully.

kiara, who had been silently inspecting the jewelry, suddenly held up a sparkling gold necklace. “how about this one?” she asked, holding it out towards you. “It’ll catch the light and really make everything pop.”

y/n gave a small laugh, her nerves still visible. “It’s beautiful, but... I don’t know. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for something like this. I mean, it’s rafe’s party. what if I stand out for the wrong reasons? or, i don’t stand out at all..”

“y/n, you always stand out,” sarah insisted, standing up and walking over with a dress in hand. “and if you don’t, we’ll make sure you do.” she paused, grinning mischievously. “honestly, you might just outshine me tonight, which would be a first.”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to steal your spotlight, sarah.”

oh, please,” kiara teased, holding up a sleek black dress against your frame. “you’d be stealing the spotlight whether you wanted to or not.”

“okay, okay,” y/n said, her smile widening as the tension eased a bit. “I just want to feel comfortable, you know?”

sarah lifted a red hip hugging dress and held it up. “This is your moment, y/n. you’ve got to go big. the red one is perfect. you’ll shine all night, no problem.”

after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “okay, I’ll try it on.” she stepped into the adjoining bathroom to change.

while she was gone, kiara rummaged through a drawer and found a pair of matching gold earrings. “these will go perfectly with the necklace. she’s going to look stunning.”

when you returned, dressed in the shimmering red dress, sarah’s eyes widened. “wow,” she said, breathless. “I knew it would look good, but you look—” She stopped, searching for words. “like you stepped out of a dream.. I might have to steal you from my brother.”

you blushed, suddenly feeling a lot more confident. “Really?”

kiara smiled and adjusted the necklace around your neck. “absolutely. you’re going to turn heads tonight. and probably knock rafe off of his feet.”

“thank you, guys,” y/n said, looking at her reflection. “I feel... I feel good now.”

sarah clapped her hands together. “we’ve got you looking fabulous. now let’s get to that party and get totally drunk with no regrets, okay?”

you smiled, already feeling the excitement bubble up again. “definitely. thanks for helping me get ready. I couldn’t have done this without you guys.”

the girls exchanged a quick hug, and with one last look in the mirror, she was ready to step out and enjoy the night.

the girls arrived at the party at about 10:32, there were about 30 cars parked from the house to all the way down the block, and a bunch of people out on the lawn. including her friends two boyfriends, jj and john b.

"fashionably late I see." jj embraced kiara in a warm hug and turned twords you. "no way you got y/n to come to a party, what'd they bribe you?" you shoved him and let out a nervous laugh. "actually.. rafe invited me." rafe, you felt your face warm up everytime you thought about him. jj and john b exchanged playful glances at each other and then looked back at you, "rafe invited you?" jj questioned, "to a rager?" john b added on.

"it's not that big of a deal, just a party." you fiddled with your bracelets in embarrassment, was it really that surprising that you were out partying? talk about a homebody.

"well, if anyone knows how to party, it's me." jj took off his shades and took a swig from his red party cup. "where's pope and cleo?" sarah clung onto john b's arm while she scanned the area, "haven't seen them in a couple minutes, probably somewhere eating each other's faces off. speaking offff.." john b trailed off and snaked his arm around sarah's waist. "catch up with you guys later." they waved the group off and disappeared into the crowd.

soon after, everyone split up. you walked into the house by yourself, there were people everywhere. on the floor, stuck to the walls, on the counters, the couches, and the tables. a couple minutes ago you texted rafe that you were at his house but no response yet, you walked over to the drink table and poured yourself a cup full of light and dark alcohols hoping you didn't regret it later. but after the first sip, it was so gross you gagged.

by yourself, taking small sips from your cup, you hear someone call your name.

"topper?" you raise your eyebrow at the figure moving through the crowd, it was infact him. "hey gorgeous, what are you doing all alone? where's rafe?" he was clearly drunk, but still knew not to flirt with you too much or rafe would kill him.

"I wish I knew honestly.." you took a swig from your cup and sighed. "ah cheer up, I'm sure he's somewhere getting high off his ass. here," topper took a joint from behind his ear and lit it. "first hit, all yours." you grabbed the weed and took a hit, and another, and another after that. a non familiar burning sensation in your throat and chest. you chased it with your cup and leaned against the counter. "see? feels better already. all you needed was a little weed." for the first time ever, you and topper actually laughed together. after some more conversation and him making sure you were still capable of saying yes and no, he went off to go hookup with some blonde.

not even a minute later, a guy came up to you. "your name's y/n right?" you had never seen this guy in your life, let alone knew his name. "yeah, it is." you spoke softly and pulled your dress down a bit. "kevin, nice to meet you." he held his hand out and you shook it, your phone vibrated in your black kurt purse that rafe had bought you, but you were too focused on the conversation to acknowledge it.

"that dress looks sexy on you.. do you smoke?" his eyes dart from your lips to your chest, if you knew any better it'd be clear he was trying to hit on you, but you thought he was just being nice. "thanks," you mumbled, "not really but sometimes?" he let out a chuckle and held out the blunt between his fingers.

but before you could accept it, out of nowehere, rafe shoved him. “don’t give her that shit, fuck ‘s your problem?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and moved Infront of you, red party cup in his hand. “chill rafe, ‘s just some light shit it won’t kill her.” the guy actually laughed in his face, and rafe didn’t like that at fucking all. he handed you his cup and grabbed the guy by his shirt with both hands. “you ever pull some shit like that again i’ll fuckin’ kill you. now get the fuck outta my kitchen.” rafe threw him to the ground and spat on him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning twords you, “‘m sorry sweetheart, you gotta be more careful.” rafe wiped his nose and pressed a kiss to your temple, resting his head on yours. the smell of alcohol and expensive cologne intoxicating you. he grabbed his cup and caged you in his arms.

"I will, 'm sorry rafey." you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest, trying to settle the spinning in your legs and the ache between your thighs.

rafe examined your figure, the way the red dress complimented your skin, the way the dress hugged your body with slits in various places, the way your ass was almost poking out, how your gold jewelry accented the red, fresh mani-pedi topped off with an anklet.

he was practically drooling.

"'s okay baby, don't think about it yeah? I wanna try something if you'll help me." he pressed a kiss to your lips, hand moving down to grip your ass. "okay, what is it?" you batt your eyelashes at him, rafe swears he could've died right there.

"cmere," he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers, leading you to the kitchen, "I'll explain in a second."

and explain he did. at first, you were a little confused but decided to just follow his lead.

rafe lifted your chin up, placing the lime in your mouth. saying you were nervous would be an understatement, but you wouldn't dare start shaking. he placed his hand on your waist and grabbed the table salt, shaking some onto the area between your shoulder, neck, and collarbone. in one swift motion, rafe took his mouth to your skin. guaranteed to leave a mark, it wasn't anything short of licking, biting, and sucking.

he downed his shot and slammed the glass on the table. grabbing your face with his free hand he bit the lime and grabbed it out of your mouth with his teeth, nearly biting your lip. he tossed it to the floor and interlocked your lips in a sloppy, needy kiss. cheers and squeals could be heard in the background, but you were too focused on how hard your heart was beating. rafe was caging you in against the counter, the slit in the back of your dress allowing the cold material to stimulate your skin. after a couple seconds rafe pulled away, breathing heavy hair messy and lips swollen. he smiled at you and you smiled at him.

"that was.. wow." which was really all you could manage to say, catching your breath. "how many times have you done that?" rafe looked down at you, admiring your flushed face. loose strands of hair, eyes glossy, lipgloss smeared, he couldn't get over your eyes. he wiped the gloss off your face with his thumb. "once," he smirked, "unless you wanna do it again." you giggled and rested your head on his chest, arms wrapped around him. "rafey, can we.. go to your room?"

if he wasn't absolutely rock hard already, he definitely was now.

he stroked your back softly with his knuckles, fingers running down your spine. "'course we can princess, whatever you want."

rafe picked you up gently tossed you over his shoulder, hand covering your ass and arms securing you on his shoulder. before you knew it, you were upstairs sitting on his bed. he took off your purse and shoes, putting them on the floor, rubbing your calves before joining you on the bed.

“you alright sweet girl?” rafe laid beside you, “mhm.” he kissed your forehead and pulled you closer to him, embracing your small frame beneath him. “can i ask you something?” you hear his breath hitch, “mhmm.’

“will you be my girlfriend?”

the room is silent, minus the music playing downstairs. you lift your head off his chest to look up at him, he’s looking down at you with low, but emotional eyes. “rafe.. are you serious?” propping yourself up on your elbow now, “yeah, hundred percent.” he sits up and digs into his pocket, pulling out a ring.

a darry ring.

It was gorgeous, and it was gold. he grabbed your hand gently, waiting on your response. “ofcourse I will,” he slides the ringer onto your finger and cups your face, kissing you softly. his hand strokes your thigh, moving himself ontop of you. the kiss becomes heated and passionate, his hands roam your body and one slips under your dress, his thumb rubs circle into your core causing your back to arch off of the bed.

rafe breaks the kiss, starting to suck on your jaw and down to your neck. “been dreaming about this pussy for weeks.” he takes his cap off and places it on your head, backwards ofcourse. he kisses your thighs and spreads them apart, you comply needing this just as much as him. “such a good fucking girl.”

he slides your lacy underwear down your legs and tosses it to the floor. mouth immediately latched onto your cunt, broad nose nudging your clit on his tongue licks between your folds. you moan as he inserts a cold, long digit into your slick hole. curling it so that it hits the right spots. a familiar knot forming in your stomach as you take his hair inbetween your hands tugging and pulling at it. almost embarrassed at how quickly he could make you cum. he mumbles words against your cunt sending vibrations to your core. “‘s okay, let it out, cum ‘m my fuckin’ face.”

with a long string of moans and curses, rafe didn’t let up. still mercilessly lapping at her cunt through her orgasm. “rafeyyy,” she whined, “‘s too much!” he finally decatched his mouth from her heat, face drenched and vision hazy. he pressed kisses to her thighs and rose to her face, kissing her sweetly.

“rafe,” she moaned put breathlessly against his lips, “I want it, please.” she runs her hands through his hair and looks him in the eyes, his heart skips a couple beats. “you sure?” he strokes her side gently, “yes, i’m sure.” rafe took off his shirt and his pants, tossing them to the floor aswell. reaching over to his dresser and grabbing a condom. he pulls down his boxers and tosses them to the floor. and holy shit was he big. not just big, but long. tip swollen and leaking every second. he strokes his self a few times before rolling the condom onto his dick.

he pulls the rest of your dress over your head, eyes glued to your breasts. he kneads one with his hands and takes the other into his mouth, sucking and biting. you moan into your fist biting your knuckles harshly. he trails kisses down your stomach and aligns himself at your entrance, rubbing his trip between your folds. spit dribbles onto his dick befofe he slowly pushes the trip in, wincing at how tight it is. you grip and claw at his arms as he bottoms out. “slutty fuckin’ pussy, so greedy suckin’ me in like this.” he earns a whine from the girl beneath him, still adjusting to his size. he moved slightly, a loud moan crept from your throat. you were full, to the brim.

It wasn’t long until he found a steady pace, rocking his hips in and out of you slowly, grip tight on your hips. every stroke sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. He hit the spot, every single time. rafe presses down on your stomach "you feel that shit? 'm so fuckin' deep in this pussy— my pussy." rafe laughed teasingly, picking up his pace.

he tosses your legs over his shoulders and fucks into you, hand gripping the back of your thigh as he moans into the crook of your neck. at this point, you couldn’t control the noises you were making. you were crying, it didn’t necessarily hurt, but he was so fucking big.

“rafe— fuck.” you were clawing at his back now, and it made his ego shoot through the roof. he chuckled lowly in your ear, “feels good? you love this fucking dick? tell me. tell me you love this shit.” you could barely speak with the way he was pounding into you, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “I love it— oh God rafe— I love you.” he groans, his thumb rumbs circles into your clit. “you love me? fuck— i fuckin’ love you. 's pussy is so fuckin good— can't let anyone else have it. put a fuckin' baby in you 'n make you my fuckin' wife."

you were so close. It was becoming too much, his words, his thrusts, his love, you could feel it all. "fu—uck you like that shit mama? squeezin' me so fuckin' tight like this. you wanna have my fuckin' baby?" he grabs you by your neck and kisses you sloppy and rough, just like the sex. "gonna cum.” you moaned breathlessly into the shell of his ear, arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to you. "yeah? do that shit you got it, make a fucking mess on my dick.”

your orgasm washes over you in waves of pleasure, rafe doesn’t stop fucking you. his thrusts become sloppy as he releases into the condom, chest heaving. your skin sticks to his as he tosses the condom into the trash, pulling you ontop of him and wrapping the blanket around you. he strokes your back and kisses your neck softly, you can hear faint buzzing coming from your purse.

“I love you, boyfriend.”

“I love you too, girlfriend.”

#rafe smut #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #frat rafe #rafe outer banks #chase atlantic

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rotthepoet · 5 months ago

Note

Need theo and lorenzo head cannons 😔

Good morning sweet pookie, i gotchu!! I needed a little break after that threesome so I did some random, some silly, some fluffy, and some smutty, kay? It’s really just a big brain dump on how I characterize the boys <3 Hope you enjoy, love ;)

P.s. if I have any reoccurring anon’s, if you want me to differentiate you, please feel free to assign yourself an emoji <3 unspoken rule i thought i’d say out loud

Theodore Nott

I agree with literally everyone on this app, he is a smarty pants, but i refuse to believe he sits down and studies

It’s not that he doesn’t care about his grades, he just doesn’t have to try to get good marks. Queen absorbs information like a sponge and retains that shit forever. Doesnt have to waste time with a boring textbook because he commits everything to memory.

That being said, he will remember everything about you. Your favorite movie you mentioned in passing, he saw you eat something particular multiple times he can infer its your favorite and will buy it for you often, he knows your habits, your aspirations, your desires. All of it. Does it for his close friends and lovers <3

Huge smoker. Like. Oral fixation final boss. Needs to have something to smoke or at least chew on at all times

I mentioned before how I think Mattheo and him laugh at people who vape, but Theodore Nott is a two faced LIAR and actually keeps a menthol alto with him at all times. For convenience sake. If you ask him, it’s different because its not a fun lil fruity flavor.

Speaking of Mattheo, those two are best friends. Like ride or die. Like. These two are bread and butter, inseparable and delicious.

Will internalize everything. This is why he gets so worked up and fights people. It may seem like him getting pissy over nothing, but this boy has some unresolved trauma and unmedicated issues.

Theo has ADHD prove me wrong and fuck you for trying(jk love you, but i will die on this hill.) severe anxiety issues, def some depression going on, hes working through some shit.

Theo can process a lot of stimulus at the same time. Watching him hold 3 steady conversations while reading a novel at the same time is a sight to behold.

Smokes weed a lot too. Mostly bud, but he’s smart and keeps a cart on him too for quick bathroom breaks when he needs to chill tf out. It slows down all the thoughts racing around his head. Lets him relax. Lets him feel peace. Let him feel comfortable. He’s been searching for that feeling his whole life.

Mommy and daddy issues check?

Anyways!

Theo is a player, and its not even because he tries to be.

Girls flock towards him, and he needs an outlet.

Sex is a good outlet.

Sex and drugs? Now we’re cooking

He doesn’t care much for the dating scene, didn’t think he was cut out for it. Bad home life. No mom. Depressed and emotionally distant evil dad. Friends and his family are all death eaters? Causes some bad views on relationships as a whole.

Omg but when he falls in love it takes forever but its so hard. Its so devastatingly hard.

It goes from “wow they really make me happy” to “omfg i need to marry them they make me feel complete and comfortable and it feels like i can finally be myself around someone this is the feeling i have been searching for my whole life” really fast when he falls

He’d never love at first sight. Refuse it. He might think someone is pretty or handsome, but he won’t ever describe it as love at first sight.

100% friends to lovers

He’s a quality time kinda guy i think

Just likes co-existing really

Stay in the room with him in silence as he reads and hes so golden

But that will bump up several notches and enjoy every other love language too

He wants to make you love him. He’ll do anything for you. Buy anything for you. Tell you everyday how wonderful you are

He’s being so genuine too

His friends would know

He never shuts up about you

If you had never spoken to his friends, never met them, they’d be able to come up to you in a grocery store and say “oh. You’re <you>, right?”

And dear god he genuinely cries a little in relief when you finally say yes

He’s buried his face in your hair and hugging you so tightly and he tries not to cry because he finally has everything he needs in his arms

He’s such a good boyfriend

Will never question you(at least not at first or without good reason)

Literally worships the ground you walk on

Will apologize first immediately after every meaningless petty fight

Thats different about real fighting though. Stubborn ass bitch

Anyways

Dotes on you everyday

Calls you so many sweet names in Italian

Has an Italian accent but sometimes tries a British accent to throw everyone off.

Argues in italian

Lowkey hates snow

Runs super cold so loves lovvesss hot weather

Will take you to Italy over the summer

Demands you go

Fucks you on the balcony of his family home

Fucks you stupid on the beach

Sorry where was I going with this

Ah yes anyways

Runs super cold so like is a big fan of cuddles. Lots of sweaters for you to steal

He likes turning cuddles into more slow and intimate things

Slowly fingering you as you spoon

Cockwarming in the morning or late at night<3

So much worship.

So much

Just adores you.

Loves fast rough sex but honestly could go on about slow love making for hours

Literally cant stand American reality tv

The biggest kardashian hater

Knows all the gossip because he’s quiet and listens

Doesnt care to share it though

Lorenzo Berkshire

Bitchboy extraordinaire

If I met Lorenzo Berkshire he would become #1 on my shitlist so fast

I called theo a two faced liar as a joke

But Enzo actually is one

Literally puts on the nicest mask for pretty girls, but every ex, and every guy in hogwarts knows he’s a conniving bitch behind closed doors

One of the richest in the group and it shows

Flaunts his money everywhere he goes

His ears are pieced

Also he likes having his ears bitten it can make him hard as a rock in seconds

Dates, but it usually only lasts a month and Hes the worst boyfriend ever

Dumps them whenever he gets bored

But omg when a person gives him his attitude back

Well first he gets even meaner

But also he likes you so much like… that was hot

And if you ignore his existence? On you like a moth to a flame

Craves attention

Such an attention seeker

Still will fight, isn’t very good, but will try

100% a prefect

Showers his pookie with so much love and attention

When he finally gets the person he wants, hes on top of them 24/7

Never a hand straying to far

Literally obsessed

Big fan of exhibitionism

Will fuck uou on the train, the bathrooms, the common room, the classroom

Its all fair game

Would love to see you all tied up in pretty ribbons for his birthday

Ass man 100%

Likes to just get a fistfull while you hug or cuddle

Mattheo and him are the biggest gossipers

Has like 4k followers on instagram because hes so pretty

Father and mother are hirh death eaters. Does anyone know Berkshire lore because i def dont

Like fr can someone explain him to me

Pairs well with anyone in the grouo, really

Gets along especially with Theo or Mattheo

Amazing at card games, and says he’s amazing at chess too. Hes not.

Literally refuses to snack, says it’ll ruin his physique

On the quidditch team much like everyone else he’s friends with

Slays at herbology

Maybe a bit of a smoker? Not often, and def more weed than tobacco

Light weight for reals

Like severely light weight

He’s the laughingstock of the friend group for it

Him and Mattheo have a running bet on who can fuck the most women

Omg omg omg because they so do the alphabet challenge im so sorry but its factual

Lorenzo is currently winning with 15/26 letters in the alphabet but Mattheo isnt too far behind

Its because Lorenzo is so charming and Mattheo…. Is himself.

Anyways back to being his significant other

Will spoil you

Relentlessly

Lowkey expects head in return but that will wear ofd eventually

109% more likely to start a fwb situation than anything else

Treats you like a girlfriend this whole time

Kisses you sweetly, holds uou close when you sleep, mumbles about how special you are

Just being a girlfriend without the title because then it gets too weird

Loses his shit if you get tired of trying and break it off

Genuinely ballistic if he loses you

Will pull as many favors and as many strings as he can to get yiu back

Seriously considers murder for a while

Anyways he gets you back baby<3

Speaking of babies hes super good with kids

Look at that face

Amazing dad face

Scared of marriage lmao

Bad parents. Fucked up views on relationships

Its a thing for all of them tbh

519 notes · View notes

sweetinsaniiity · 3 months ago

Text

Give Me Liberty Or Death

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - mysterious!jongho x ex!heartbroken!reader ◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - exes-to-strangers-??? trope, mafia au, plot with a side of smut (warnings below), heavy angst, Jongho's career choice is !unknown, regret, intense verbal fighting, reader is very !lonely, lots of crying, sexual tension so thick you can cut it with a knife, slice of life, slow burn, time lapses, path to healing, redemption, miscommunication, plot twist ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-18+ so MDNI!!!, Jongho is an absolute DOM! and he has a !filthy mouth, degrading names (be warned), degradation kink, reader has !masochistic tendencies, spanking, hair pulling, hard biting, overstimulation, blowjob, choking, acarophilia, dacryphilia, creampie, no protection (DO NOT DO THIS!!!!), night terrors, mental breakdown, depressive state, mentions of self-ending (NOT DESCRIBED), extreme violence, gunfight scene (not towards reader) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 27K+ words ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - A storm hits not only your town, but also your heart when Jongho knocks on your door in a panic after not seeing him for more than five years. Everything would have been fine, except he wasn't the Jongho you once knew and loved. He was tense, and paranoid like he was running away from something, and instead of your heart, he now carried a gun. ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - I'm back from my vacation!!! This one might be on the more emotional side and I kept pausing because I got so into it, that it was actually affecting me. I wasn't going to put smut in this one, but it was so necessary. You'll see why. Also changed my name from "dearinsaniiiity" to this one. Hope you enjoy! ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @ginger-mingi @0rangemilk @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos ◄ ► 𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @cultofdionysusnet @wonderlandnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @whipped-kpop-creators @illusionnet @pirateeznet ◄

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟑, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

"We interrupt your afternoon delight with a weather forecast of heavy rain and zero visibility in most areas..."

A strong gust of wind that passed and shook my windows slightly broke me out of the trance I almost went into. With a heavy sigh, I got up and double-checked if I had closed them tightly, twisting and turning the lock just to make extra sure.

It's been pouring rain the last couple of days and everyone, including me, thought it was going to pass, but clearly not.

I was disheartened to find out that there was a hurricane in my area when I turned my television on. I looked out my window again, the wind was picking up and it was raining so hard that I could barely make out what was outside.

"Shit, shit!" I panicked when I saw smoke rise up my ceiling and realized that I had overcooked my dinner for tonight.

I hurriedly took out my baked salmon, or what was left of it, from the oven. It was basically inedible.

I sat on the dining table with my head buried in my hands in frustration. This week has been terrible for me.

Because of the oncoming storm, my boss from the local bakery decided that he was going to close for a couple of months and leave town to avoid the storm while vacationing somewhere. I didn't mind, I wasn't going to stay in that job forever, so I applied to a corporation in the next city over, but I was rejected today.

Life hasn't been easy on me, but I'm working towards it.

Just when I was about to burst into pitiful tears, my doorbell suddenly rang. I was alarmed; I wasn't expecting anyone, and nobody in their right mind would be out in an active hurricane.

"Alright, I'm coming, please hang on," I scurried to the door when the doorbell rang over and over again hurriedly, as if the person on the other side was on the verge of collapsing.

But who could this be? I didn't really have anybody close enough with me who would visit without any prior notice. I wasn't really reclused, I just saw no point if they're going to leave anyway eventually.

With a deep breath, I opened the door slowly to peep out and see who was knocking, but that was pointless. I quickly grew frigid and loosened my hold on the door as it swung open on its own.

I recoiled at the surprise - there was someone I was not expecting to see right now. I blinked my eyes over and over and over, and over again. I even went as far as to rub my eyes repeatedly, pressing onto them almost dangerously, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"J-Jongho?" I squeaked, my voice cracking pathetically towards the end.

I curled my hands into fists. All the pain, raw and real, came rushing towards me as I stared into the eyes of the man who hurt me the most five years ago.

"Hello, Y/N."

His voice sounded so far away, and if it weren't for him actually standing in front of me and looking at me straight in the eye with an expression I couldn't pinpoint, I would have knocked my head against the wall so I could wake myself up from this nightmare.

"I-Is that you? Jongho?"

"That is my name, yes," Jongho spoke as his eyes stared into my own again. There were a million emotions to be said yet none in his eyes.

His voice sent delicious shivers down my spine, my legs started going numb from the pressure and the intensity. It had been years, and his eyes still had this unique, telling amber hue to them from afar, but up this close, his eyes had gold specks swirling in the middle near his irises.

"W-What are you d-doing here?" I sputtered out, my voice clearly holding distress.

"I know this is very sudden and I really don't mean to bother you," he cleared his throat. "I just...didn't know where to go, I passed by and I didn't know there was a storm."

My heart ached uncontrollably. If it wasn't for the storm, he wouldn't even show his face in front of me. "Do you need a place to pass the storm?" I asked rhetorically.

"Do you mind?"

"N-No, not at all. I'm just surprised you still knew your way here, that's all..."

A flashing look of hurt crossed his expression before it completely disappeared. He knows he can't blame me - after all, this was the first time we were seeing each other after five years of complete radio silence from one another.

I hesitated, biting my lips in contemplation. It's not that I didn't want him here, it's just that I was too hurt to see him.

A strong gust of wind howled from a distance and it was so strong, it had nearly uprooted a nearby tree. I turned back to Jongho in panic and urged him to come inside before he got uprooted.

I waved my hand towards him as a gesture that he could move. "Come along, Jongie---Jongho."

When Jongho started to walk inside and pass me, he paused and stiffened at my mistake. We stared at each other wide-eyed, either of us unwilling to move for fear of what's going to happen next. It was the nickname I loved calling him when we were still together.

But one of us had to. I laughed nervously and broke eye contact as I closed the door behind me. It was so awkward and for a couple of minutes, none of us did anything. The only sound that could be heard was the storm happening outside and Jongho's coat rustling as he took it off and set it somewhere.

My mind was blank except for the constant buzzing that reminded me that this was real, my heart palpitated in an abnormal manner, and at this point I was sure I was going to pass out.

"C-Coffee? Tea?" I blabbered nervously as I tried to busy myself so I wouldn't make eye contact with Jongho.

He chose to sit cross-legged on the couch. In my peripheral vision, I saw him close his eyes momentarily to savour the sensation - I get it, that specific spot was his favourite. It was to the point that we used to joke that when we had kids, he would pass on his 'throne'. Clearly, that didn't work out for us.

"Tea is good," Jongho murmured. "A dash of honey, no sugar or lemon."

I raised a brow, Jongho and tea never used to be in the same sentence. But then again, five years had passed. A lot of things can change in five years. But this was my ex-boyfriend, and I knew Jongho. He was never the type to deviate from what he liked.

I went to work and I could feel Jongho's sharp eyes following my every movement. It was making me extremely nervous. It was very evident in my actions, especially with the way my hands shook. I accidentally dropped the kettle with how clammy my hands have become and I yelped when it clanged loudly.

I stood frozen at my spot, staring at the fallen kettle. A sigh resounds from the far corner of the room and then the footsteps I missed.

"Are you alright?" Jongho picked up the kettle and set it down. "Sit down. I'll do it."

My head short-circuited from how close Jongho was to me. I could smell his cologne, something that used to comfort me. I had to stop the emotions threatening to bubble up from my chest because this felt so intimate.

"No, please, my hands were just a little clammy. Just relax," I explained, still avoiding eye contact.

My breath was cut short when a hand held my shoulder and a finger gently lifted my chin. I was forced to look into Jongho's eyes and I was surprised at how close he actually was to me.

It was the first time I was taking a good look at him. Jongho's hair was slicked back, something he barely did before because he loved his bangs. I resisted the urge to frown. It wasn't the only thing that changed, Jongho was much bigger than me now. He's always been taller than me, but now his shoulders were much broader and his chest was definitely harder.

"Do I make you nervous?" Jongho whispered. His eyes searched my face for answers. My breath laboured when they stared a little too long on my lips before his eyes met mine again.

"Yeah," I nodded, my voice quiet. "You do."

I was rigid as I returned the gesture. I had long forgotten how his plump lips felt like against mine, and I forgot Jongho's face overall.

I forgot about how insanely, utterly, ridiculously good-looking he was - it made me want to pull my hair out. I felt beads of sweat starting to form slowly at my forehead, I must have looked so dumb staring at him with slightly wide eyes.

He pulled away. "Sit down, Y/N. I won't burn down your kitchen."

"I know you won't," I frowned with a slight blush on my cheek. "If you could just let me---"

Jongho snapped his head at me and stared straight into my eyes with an expression that startled me. "Sit down," he repeated, his voice leaving no space for arguments.

I did as told, but I couldn't even concentrate as Jongho prepared the tea, not even when he opened the correct cabinets and worked my stove as if he never left five years ago.

There was something about his eyes and demeanor that was scaring me a bit. I could argue that it might just be my own anxiety and surprise at seeing him, but no, that wasn't it. I couldn't explain it, when he told me to sit down, I had to.

I had to. It was either I follow or else.

I stared at Jongho as he stood by and waited for the water to boil. He had always been a very nonchalant person as he was quite mature for our age group, but he was different. I wasn't sure if it was the way he moved or the way he talked, but he was very much different from the carefree and easygoing man I once loved.

"Careful, it's very hot," he murmured as he handed me the mug. We both chose to sit at the dining table and I tried my best to stay unaffected than I actually was.

When I took a sip, I whipped my head fast at Jongho who was busy sipping his own tea. There was a ghost of a smirk on his face when I sipped again, this time, savouring the tea and allowing myself to relax a little.

"You remembered," I swallowed. "A sugar cube and a dash of lemon in mine."

Jongho stared at me for a couple of seconds before completely ignoring me. It was awkward, but I wasn't going to push it. There was this dread I'm feeling that I couldn't pinpoint. Moments later, he had completely finished his drink.

"How are you, Y/N?" Jongho asked softly. His voice sounded so calm like the ongoing rain, and I've always loved the sound of the rain.

"I've been good, well, mostly anyway. I'm trying to apply at the capital, but no luck so far," I answered truthfully. "Are you okay, though? The way you knocked got me so worried."

Jongho's face softens significantly. I didn't even notice how tense his body was until he relaxed. "You were worried?" he snorted quietly. "You haven't changed at all."

It hit a nerve. I wish I did change, because if I did, then there wouldn't be a single part of me that was so hurt by his presence right now.

There was still a part of me that will always mourn how he suddenly just left one day and never came back, that is, until today.

"How can you just act like nothing happened?" I looked up at him with inquisitive eyes. "I guess that part of you never changed."

"That's what you think," Jongho murmured. His soft, calm voice always sent shivers down my spine.

Once again, he started staring at me again with those deep eyes of his. I couldn't help but be taken aback. His eyes looked different - darker. It made me think, what in the world has he been doing after he left town?

I broke eye contact, awkwardly shifting my body in a different angle. "And what of you?" I asked, trying to change the topic. "How are you, Jongho?"

My tone held weight in it, and Jongho knew. We both knew the hidden meaning behind the question - I wanted to know the real reason why he gave up on us when we had it good. His demeanor falters a bit and he sighed deeply before responding.

"Exhausted," he replied like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I am very tired."

Silence. I didn't know what to say. This entire time, the way his eyes were reaching out and speaking to me made me want to take all his worries away, but I can't. I wasn't prepared for the day I would have to face him again, fuck, I haven't even moved on.

"Are you going to tell me why?" I whispered, my voice giving out my real intentions.

I knew he wouldn't say anything, but still, I wasn't ready for the instantaneous rejection. "No," Jongho denied, his tone firm and absolute.

I always had this gut feeling that Jongho was doing something behind my back. No, I knew it wasn't an affair. I never did ask why, until today.

"What are you really doing here, Choi Jongho?" I squinted my eyes at him.

He raised a brow in amusement. "I already told you---"

"You're lying!" I gritted my teeth, slighted, then banged my fist on the table. The sound didn't even startle Jongho. "Don't you at least owe me an explanation if you're staying in my house?"

"You would be correct," he agreed, his eyes shifting into something darker; sinister. I shifted uncomfortably on my seat as he slowly leaned forward until our faces were only inches apart. "But there are some things better left unsaid, Y/N."

Better left unsaid, my ass!

The urge to fight for him as we stared at each other unblinking was overtaking all my sense of rationality. As always, I had to back down, else we'd be like this all night up until the next night. Jongho would rather die than give in, even in the little things like this. It was petty and it was endearing before, but now, it just angered me.

I nodded robotically, effectively ending that conversation. "Right," I stood up from the chair as I looked out the window before turning to him. "It's getting late. Would you like to clean up before heading to sleep?"

The urge to pretend we were strangers was immense ,but I couldn't turn my back on him. It was a trait of mine I've always wanted to change - I'm a little too forgiving and caring. I always get hurt in the end.

Jongho had always been a man of few words, and tonight wasn't any different. He stared at me calculatingly, gauging my facial expressions, but I had already gauged his - he did not want to stay. My eyes must've looked more pleading than I wanted to because he looked away with a soft sigh.

"Oh," Jongho hummed awkwardly. "I'll have to go in my car to see if I have some spare clothes."

I shook my head immediately. "No need. Hang on a minute."

I descended towards my room with a blush with what I was about to do. I went into my room and grabbed the clothes I'd always kept at bay, I didn't even sweat looking for them; they've always been hidden away in the most immediate place of my closet.

I paused on the doorway, willing my shaking hands to stop, but to no avail. I had to mentally tell myself that it was okay, it was just Jongho, he needed help and you were just helping him. It was nothing more than that, nobody deserves to be in the middle of a raging hurricane with nowhere to go.

But why is the hurricane raging in my heart instead?

I could feel Jongho's eyes burning onto my hands - at the clothes I was carrying. When I handed them to him, it was the first time real emotions crossed his features.

"For all this time?" Jongho asked, his eyes holding turmoil and his voice strained with pain as he held his clothes that I've kept. I didn't have the heart to throw them away, I didn't want to.

My words kept getting stuck in my throat. I nodded my head and ignored his burning gaze. His body stiffened in realization before he moved in urgency towards a certain room in my small and modest house. I could only stare at him as he opened the door.

"You could sleep there," I offered, though he probably knew that already. "It's clean, I promise..."

My chest felt extremely heavy as emotions rushed through me, emotions that I've long forgotten because they died along with my soul a long, long time ago. Jongho stared at me, his hand gripping the doorknob so tight, I was afraid it would crush under his strength. His other hand was balled into a tight fist.

It was the master bedroom, our room when we were still together. However, it was mostly Jongho's room because it was his gaming room. I was starting college back then, mostly online, so I used the other room - the room I used ever since. Jongho would end up sleeping there so it made sense that all his stuff be moved there.

We were so secure in our relationship that we had no problem sleeping in separate rooms. Of course we'd sleep next to each other most of the time, but the principle behind it stood.

In hindsight, maybe we weren't so secure after all.

"When was the last time you were here?" Jongho asked in urgency. There was an underlying threat to his voice, like he was trying to hold himself back from exploding, but I don't care. I was too focused on my own hurt.

I hesitated. "Five years ago," I replied honestly. "When I...found your letter that said not to look for you."

It was the first time that that door was opened in so long, I couldn't bear to even look at the door because it held so many painful memories for me.

"Why?" Jongho questioned, the heat of his gaze almost melted me into a messy puddle, but I couldn't bear to look at him, he looked so hurt under all the surprise and the facade.

Because I was hoping you'd come back one day.

I shrugged, hoping that I could sell the notion that I didn't care. It was so far from the truth. I couldn't tell him what I really felt.

Jongho was about to say something but I immediately cut him off. "Anyway," I cleared my throat. Jongho frowns deeper but he lets me be. "I'm a bit tired, you know where the shower is."

I turned my back quickly to leave, but Jongho stopped me. "Wait, please."

I stuttered in my steps, only turning my head to look at him and not my whole body. He also wasn't the type to say 'please'. His mouth opened to say something, but he opted to close it. "Good night, Y/N. Sleep well," was all he ended up saying.

I ran to my room a little faster than I wanted to and closed the door a little harder than I intended to. I don't care if Jongho notices, he knows damn well what he was doing when came here.

There was a point in my life where I never wanted to see Jongho again, but at the same time, I needed him to let me heal. But not like this.

I couldn't sleep that night. Up until this point I was working with empathy as my fuel and my body on autopilot. Tonight, everything came crashing down on me now that I was alone. It was horrific, the heartbreak and the pain that came with it barreled down my body and I couldn't breathe.

I could still feel the biting cold of the harsh winter snowfall when we first laid our eyes on each other. We were just teenagers, no older than fourteen, and it wasn't love at first sight, but it was a slow burn; a gradual fall that would have happened eventually even before we knew it.

Jongho's love always gave me an out-of-body experience, for his love was true and passionate. It was something you'd have to experience yourself to know what I meant. He was the sweetest lover, he was so patient with me and he had the most beautiful smile that always made me cry tears of joy for having him.

I built a world in my head that revolved around Jongho. Him and I managed to graduate high school, but we never went to college because we didn't see the point of it. We did odd jobs here and there until we bought our first house to prepare for the rest of our lives together. We had it so good.

Until it wasn't. He took a part of my heart that I can never, ever get back again when I found a letter in his room one day when I woke up. There was no other explanation. The amount of tears I cried for years could rival the hurricane happening right now.

I'd always suspected it was because of his career. The way he got so irritated and angry whenever I'd want to talk about what he did back then petrified me. He told me he found solace in a bank, but I knew he was lying. I was pretty sure the bank didn't give him all the bruises he came home with all the time.

I did try the dating scene after two years or so, but no such luck. I left every man that I'd make a connection with all the time because I would end up comparing every single one of them to Jongho and it wasn't fair to them.

But everything was in the past now. As I closed my eyes to try and rest, I made up my resolve to try and not catch feelings for him. I would break his heart before he broke mine again.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟖, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

It took approximately five days for the rain to finally stop and by this time, it was safe to go out and see the sun.

These five days were some of the most challenging days of my entire life, more so than when I was trying to move on from Jongho before. We were so awkward around one another, it was as if we were strangers that were forced to co-habituate.

The only consolidation was that both of us barely went out of our rooms, except when I made dinner, but even then, we'd still eat in our rooms. I don't know about him, but I refused to go out there willingly and interact with him. Living together again felt a little too intimate for my liking.

And now he was leaving again. It's like he never even came in my life.

"A-Are you sure you're going to be okay?" I asked apprehensively from across the dining table.

Jongho zipped up his duffle bag that contained some of his clothes that he took from the room. It hurt me more than I'd like to admit, it was like he was permanently uprooting what's left of him from this place - from me.

He looked up and nodded. "Yes," Jongho responded curtly. He hesitated a bit before speaking again. "You're going to go grocery shopping this morning, aren't you?"

I raised a brow in surprise. Jongho pointed at something and when I looked, it was a note I had put there from a week before to remind me to refill my fridge. The tips of my ears warm up with embarrassment. I nodded at him, not knowing where this was going.

"I'll drop you off so you don't have to walk," he offered, voice soft. "The town exit is by that area...I can drive off from there."

I hesitated, biting my lip to think about it. To be quite honest, I was hoping that he would just say his thanks and leave. In reality, I don't want to watch him leave, my unhealed soul won't be able to take it.

However, maybe seeing it would help me finally move on and heal. "Okay," I agreed, my voice barely audible even in the silence that enveloped us, but he heard it anyway.

It was how I found myself sitting in the car with him as he drove. It was a small town, I could have walked to the store if I wanted to, but driving was still more convenient for me.

"I hope life will be a bit nicer to you from now on," I whispered all of a sudden as I watched the scenery bristle past us. Even with what happened to us, I will always want Jongho to succeed and be happy.

I could feel his eyes burn through me and I tried not to look at him. "You've always been such an angel," Jongho remarked quietly. The statement made my stomach drop. "Thank you, Y/N. You had no reason to take me in, but you still did."

Before I could ask if I was going to see him again, Jongho halted the car all of a sudden. I yelped a bit when I jutted forward, thank God for seatbelts, and I wanted to look at him in intense confusion, but when I looked up, I understood why.

There was destruction that laid across the streets and the town. Thick, gigantic trees had fallen over and covered the entire divide. It gave me the shivers to look at, but what made both me and Jongho pale was that the exit bridge was entirely destroyed. This town was located at the very edge of the country, and that bridge was the only thing connecting them.

I was startled when a knock sounded from my window. It was a construction worker. I lowered the window and we said our respects.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," he began. "It's very dangerous here, please turn back before you get hurt."

"How long until everything is up and functioning?" Jongho asked, obvious tension and anger tainted in his voice even when he was trying to hold back. "I'm not a resident here. Is there any other exit?"

"Afraid not, dear sir. Please, turn back. And it would probably take a couple of months to fix everything..."

Jongho's grip on the steering wheel became dangerously tight. He knew the answer to that question, but he still asked anyway. I didn't pay attention, my ears were ringing loudly in my brain

"Fuck!" Jongho hit the steering wheel hard with the palm of his hands, the force of it so intense, it shook the car a little bit.

I jumped a bit when he did it again, harder than the last. I've never heard Jongho curse with this vehemence, hell, I've never even seen him lose his temper this quick. Rage was written all over his face, his blown out eyes were wide with adrenaline and thick veins angrily popped out from his temples.

My heart stopped beating for a full second when Jongho snapped his head towards me and ran his eyes all over my terrorized state. His glare held cold emptiness. Who was this man? The Jongho I knew only looked at me with nothing but love and even if he didn't anymore, surely I don't deserve this?

He forced himself to stop glaring at me. It was such an odd sight, as if he was trying to reign in the demons that threatened to overtake him. He tried and tried until all that was left was his softened gaze.

I got so lost in thought that I didn't even realize that Jongho had not only parked his car , but he had also gotten out and opened the door for me.

"Let's go," he gently coaxed out. "I'd like to be home before sundown."

Home? My head started hurting from all the overstimulation. I looked around me, surprised that we were in front of the grocery store. I stared at Jongho in confusion. "A-Are you going in with me?" I blurted out dumbly.

My skin tingles when Jongho placed his hand at the lower part of my back and started making me walk with me inside. "How am I going to pay for the stuff if I'm not here?"

He grabbed a cart and started pushing it with one hand while his other hand had now travelled a little higher as he gently guided me with him.

"I have my own money," I frowned. "If this is about you staying for a while now, I'm not asking for anything in return."

"So keep them and stash them somewhere as savings," he replied. His hand separated from my back and he paused at one aisle. "You like instant ramen?"

"Oh, yes—wait," I sputtered like an absolute idiot, face getting redder by the minute. "Don't change the topic."

He grabbed the biggest box of instant ramen. Not only did he do that, but he also got my favourite variety. There was a look of amusement painted on his face, it made him look so much younger; it made him look so good.

We carried on doing the groceries together. I was so distracted by how domesticated we both looked. We looked like we were a married couple just trying to replenish their groceries. Jongho grabbed everything I needed but more so the stuff he knew I liked because I would eye them a little longer. I couldn't freely do this, my job at the bakery provided just enough for me to survive but not splurge on things I didn't need.

By the time we were done, the cart was so full that Jongho found it difficult to steer the cart. "There's a lot of things here I'm not even sure how to cook," I deadpanned.

"The internet exists, blossom. We'll figure it out," he assured. He cocked his head towards the cashier area. "Come on."

I lagged behind him, I didn't want him to see how red my entire face had become. Blossom. I'm not sure if he did it on purpose, but it was what he called me during the entirety of our relationship.

"Hey, Y/N! Good to see you out and about," Choi San, the cashier and one of my best friends, greeted. He turned to Jongho and bowed a bit. "Thank you for shopping with us, Sir..."

I stopped the smile threatening to come out. If only San knew that he was technically older than Jongho. I can't blame him though, Jongho was born with an old soul, it was one of the things that made me love him so, so much.

San kept wiggling his eyebrows at me in a teasing manner while Jongho wasn't looking. I put my finger to my lips to shush him, but that seemed to spur him on even more.

"Hope the storm wasn't too bad on you, Sannie. How's Haneul?" I asked him to distract him.

"She wasn't here when it happened, thank God," he laughed a little. He stared at Jongho, me, and then back at Jongho with a sly smile. "Your boyfriend is very generous, Y/N."

I fumbled, redness immediately spreading across my face. I wanted to retort, but the idiot purposefully turned to Jongho to ask some questions.

"Haven't seen you around here before, where are you from?"

"Seoul, my work is based in the mid-city," Jongho patiently replied as barrages of questions were hurled at him.

Jongho never really stayed long in this town for people to recognize him, and even if he did, he barely went out anyway. As the conversation went on, I realized that Jongho never corrected San when he said that he was my boyfriend. It sent me into an intense mental whiplash.

"A total of ₩973,841," San stated after he was done doing his cashier things.

My heart thudded and my grip on my wallet became impossibly tight. I was on a restricted budget since the bakery isn't going to be open for a while, luckily I was good at saving, but still. I was about to open my mouth to retort but Jongho beat me to it.

"Do you accept dollars?" Jongho inquired. When San confirmed they did, he fished out a prestigious black card that everyone only dreamed of having.

Shame crept onto my face. It meant that Jongho was thriving in his career and even went international. It wasn't a surprise because Jongho had always been meant for greater things while I was still that painfully normal girl. We weren't even in the same level of status at this point.

"Stop thinking what you're thinking."

I was a bit startled when Jongho tucked a piece of my hair behind my ears. "I know you, and it's okay," he murmured. When my expression didn't relent, he sighed. "Make me dinner tonight then, but I'm telling you, I don't need anything."

I agreed. It was better than owing Jongho. He picked up all the heavy shopping bags effortlessly and San's widened eyes made me giggle. San was crazy strong, but Jongho's strength was something out of this world.

"Loaded and strong," San whistled. I blushed in embarrassment and playfully glared at San. His laughter was still ringing in my head even after we left the store.

The drive home was more peaceful this time, except for my internal turmoil. Jongho was going to live with me for God-knows-how-long.

"That cashier, your friend?" Jongho suddenly asked. "He seems nice."

"San? Yes, he is," I paused for a moment before I spoke again. "He's my ex, actually."

Jongho's brows raised in genuine surprise. "Oh? What happened?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. He side eyed me, unimpressed. "No, I'm serious. Nothing happened, which was why we broke up."

He didn't say anything, waiting for me to continue. "I met San through a mutual friend of ours. He just had his heart broken, and I was lonely, so we tried for each other. Instead of developing romance, we ended up being extremely good friends instead. It was a win-win for us."

It wasn't the entire truth. There were countless nights where San and I cried in each other's arms in desperation because we both wanted to move on and genuinely be with each other, but we just both couldn't. San's heart wasn't ready and I was still desperately in love with Jongho.

"What about you?" I asked with genuine interest. "Anyone within five years, or perhaps as of now?"

I was nervous to hear his answer, but it was only fair that I asked. "Had a few," he admitted. "None of which lasted for more than two weeks, I'm afraid. Last time I even bothered to try was three years ago."

"Why?" I bit my lip as I waited for his response, though I was a bit surprised. Jongho was shy, but he was extremely attractive so that's that.

He parked in front of the house before turning to look at me. "For the same reasons as yours," he whispered.

My heart started to beat a million miles per minute. "You don't even know mine," I frowned.

"But I do," he shook his head slowly. That darkness in his eyes was back. He stole my breath relentlessly when he grabbed my chin and tilted it towards him.

It wasn't normal; the gesture was rough and demanding. "I can see it in your eyes," he said with a small smirk. I gulped when he pressed his thumb on my bottom lip. "We were each other's anchor. You'd do best to believe that."

Jongho got out of the car and I remained frozen in my spot. That was weird, the Jongho I knew would never act like that! Just who was this man I took in for almost a week, and now, will be taking in for a couple of months?

But wait, was he implying that he can't find someone else either because he still loved me?

"Then why did you leave?" I bombarded him when I quickly ran to the house before he could do anything else.

Jongho stared at me blankly. It was uncomfortable, his eyes were the darkest I have ever seen. Without replying, he turned around and locked himself in his room.

I scoffed, tempted to pull my hair out, the nerve of this man! I might as well be talking to a wall! I decided to put all the groceries away and start on dinner.

I couldn't concentrate though, I genuinely thought we had a connection already. And his eyes, his demeanor, it was freaking me out.

Him walking out wasn't technically new, even before, he'd walk out when he didn't want to be confronted, but this was different. At least before, he used to smile and they would hold this softness to it that I never saw again in another man since he’s walked out of my life.

Dinner was silent. I made homemade ramen and I could see the surprise in his eyes. I smirked in satisfaction when his jaw hardened. He loved it but he doesn't want to admit it.

"Want to drink tonight?" Jongho blurted out all of a sudden in the middle of dinner.

Just when I thought we were strangers, he busts out things that bring me nostalgia.

"I suppose I don't mind," I shrugged. "Where?"

"Here. I bought alcohol earlier," Jongho put his dirty dishes in the sink before he turned to my confused expression. "You forgot to check the trunk, blossom. Again."

I blushed in embarrassment. Jongho and I loved drinking occasionally after dinner, we both held our alcohol well, and he has a habit of putting them in the trunk of his car instead. I don't know why, and he doesn't either.

Jongho went outside and when he came back, he was carrying two cases of soju. They were two different flavours, one for me and one for him specifically. My heart was confused if it wanted to soar or drop.

We both excitedly opened a bottle and clinked our bottles together. I couldn't hold back a smile when I began drinking. Jongho had the regular flavor, and I had the peach one. When I got another one, I couldn't open the bottle in a heated fervor.

Jongho saw my struggle and grabbed my bottle. "Really, Y/N? I have to do everything for you it seems," Jongho smirked at me as he gave me the bottle. "Think I should wipe your ass for you too?"

I squinted my eyes at him. He was definitely feeling buzzed, but so was I. "Better than doing it myself," I scoffed.

I got the shock of my life when Jongho reached out and wiped my face vigorously. My mouth drops at his grin, the nerve of this man!

I got up and walked to the fridge to get the dessert I made - homemade doughnuts - as he burst out laughing from behind me. I smiled a little, how I missed that sound coming from him. Too bad it was the alcohol acting.

"It looks like assholes," he blurted out when he got one and inspected that misshapen doughnut. I didn't mean for them to come out like that, I couldn't concentrate.

I snatched the doughnut from him. "Yeah?" I hissed. "I was thinking of you when I made them."

It was his turn to scoff, but I could see the mirth in his eyes. "Don't you think this is getting old?" Jongho smirked.

"So are you," I bit back.

This time, the comeback really made him snort and began laughing so loud that I see tears forming in his eyes. I couldn't help but laugh with him and then we were two idiots just laughing at anything and everything we see. When we stopped, all we did was look at each other and begin laughing all over again.

It was like five years ago all over again and I temporarily felt five years younger as I turned back in time with all the nostalgia flowing through my body with the alcohol.

"Remember that one time you told this kid in our class that he was weird for being right-handed?" I hiccupped, the alcohol taking its full effect on me.

Jongho turned red, if he wasn't already, and began laughing again. "Yeah, well I thought everyone was left-handed like me."

He leaned his elbow on the table and closer to me. "Remember the first time you gave me a 'love letter'?"

I was mortified and I buried my face in my hands with a loud groan. It triggered another laughing episode between the two of us. "Shut the fuck up," I groaned loudly, highly embarrassed. "I really didn't know!"

A year after we met, I already knew I loved Jongho and I knew he felt the same, but he wasn't making a move and I got extremely impatient. I wrote him a love letter and decided to put it in his jacket pocket when he wasn't looking.

Imagine my mortification when I found out that the letter was still in my purse and my sanitary pads were gone.

"You were probably so nervous, so you switched them up," he chuckled, amused by the memory even thirteen years later.

We began mellowing down and just enjoyed each other's presence. I was beginning to get woozy and halfway drunk while Jongho still looked okay, though I can tell he was restraining from getting drunk to a point like mine.

"Jongie? My baby bear?" I squeaked out, lids almost dropping down.

"Yes?" Jongho mused after he got over the initial shock of me calling him my favourite thing.

"Why did you leave me?"

He froze midway from drinking out of the soju bottle. He decided to set it back down the table and heaved a massive sigh. "I can't tell you that, blossom," he whispered, the agony of his words dampening the mood.

I swallowed, my tongue itching for one question I swore to ask him if I ever saw him again. "Did you ever love me?"

Silence. A chill in my blood traveled through my head and made me nauseous. I was coherent enough to ask and remember the next day, but I was far too gone to even care if Jongho answered or not.

"My love, you're pushing it," Jongho desperately shook his head. "Don't."

How dare he call me his love? His hypocrisy made me giggle out loud. "It's okay," I lied. "You can't break my heart like I can."

I walked every broken path for this man, fought everyone in my way just so I could have him and him I, yet when push came to shove, he was nowhere to be found.

The hurt and the pain cut deep like a razor blade. There were times that I wanted to end it, for dying felt more justifiable than not having Jongho in my life, but I was a coward; I couldn't do it.

"Hold on to me," Jongho murmured as he started to lift me from the chair and carry me to bed when I started to snooze from the alcohol.

But dying felt unnecessary, I was dead long gone before my conscious body did. Jongho knew how I'd feel if he left, and he still did it. He was content watching me wither away from afar.

He tucked me in like he usually did. He gave me a tender kiss on my head before pressing his forehead on mine. The gesture made my heart clench in my chest. He stayed like that for a while.

"Y/N?" Jongho whispered so softly. I hummed out a reply, I was too sleepy to talk. He shuts his eyes tight. "I am so sorry."

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟐𝟐, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

Two months with Jongho felt like a breeze. It wasn't all bad being with him. Ever since that night, we were both on edge for a while but all of that drifted apart when we relaxed a little and communicated more.

I never asked anything about his departure and his career ever again. It drove him away and even though I'm trying not to love him again, my gut always felt sick when I felt that Jongho slipped away when I asked.

Right now, summer was at its peak and I decided to work on my small garden that was directly in front of the driveway. Gardening was something I picked up from years ago to make myself busy and not think too much about Jongho.

And speak of the devil, and he shall come. I felt his presence by the door. "Is there a tech store here somewhere?" Jongho asked.

"Yeah. You know surprisingly, this town literally has everything," I giggled. "It's in the plaza near town square."

"Great. I need to upgrade my computer for my work, so I'm going out."

I froze. He's never gone out without me before, not because he liked taking me or I wanted to go, but because I wanted to show him around since, again, when we moved he wasn't here long enough to explore the town.

"H-How long are you g-going to take?" I brushed past him, not bothering to even face him, and washed my soiled hands in the sink. My heart was beating so fast in anxiety.

"Two hours, maximum. I'll pick up lunch on the way too so you don't have to cook. What do you want?"

Something ugly was beginning to rear its head inside me and I turned around to confront it with him, but for the second time, I froze.

His hair was styled into a purposeful tousle that stopped below his ears, his bangs parted in the middle. He wore this very, very tight shirt that emphasized his bulked out chest and arms. It fit him perfectly, and I swear, they were inviting me in so I can get enveloped in a welcoming embrace.

"Y/N?" Jongho's fingers were snapping to get my attention. "You okay?"

No, I wasn't. When Jongho was met with silence and my teary eyes, he sighed heavily with realization - that I was terrified at the prospect of him leaving and never coming back.

Pain shines in his eyes. He approaches me and grabs my hand to place something in it. "Keep this safe for me, okay?" Jongho murmured. He squeezed my hand and my heart squeezed along with it. "I will need it back."

When I looked down, it was the black card he uses to pay for things - which was everything at this point - and it's all he's been using. I stared at him as he wiped a lone tear from my eyes.

"I'll be back. Be a good girl," he said. Butterflies exploded in my stomach.

Suddenly his phone rang and his expression changed into relief, like he had been expecting that call. It's probably work. Jongho grabbed the back of my head gently and pulled towards him so he could kiss the top hastily before he left.

I stood on the same spot for well over half an hour after. I could still feel the ghost of his kiss on my head and in a daze, I inspected the heavy card. It looked like an ordinary card, but when I looked closer, it was thick, like there was something inside it...

I shook my head. No, Y/N, you need to sleep," I muttered to myself as I laid down on the couch

Soon enough I fell into a short slumber. It was one of those situations where I know I'm asleep but my mind can't stop working. I was scared to hear those screams again.

For the last two months, I've been waking up every single day in a cold sweat because in my dreams, I could hear Jongho scream for help. I felt so helpless every time because my body can't move and I can't seem to find the source of his anguished voice.

I hated nighttime, I hated closing my eyes because it's where he would haunt me the most.

"You excited?"

I nodded with unmatched enthusiasm. "Of course Jongie bear," I giggled. "I don't think we've ever gone out on a date by the beach before..."

It was beautiful. I could my skin crawl with excitement as I stared at the bluest waves, the finest sand against my feet, and the saltiest smell of the ocean before us.

"My blossom, my love, please be careful, I'm begging you," Jongho pleaded with mercy when I excitedly climbed over a railing and balanced on it. It was old with age, and thin with the constant water hitting it.

It resembled a plank more than a railing. "It's okay," I laughed, playfully rolling my eyes at my worried boyfriend. "You'd always catch me---"

Suddenly, I felt rumbling beneath me and the snap of eroded wood that you would never want to ever hear. And then I was falling to the ocean, and I couldn't swim.

But instead of water, I hit solid ground - more wood. It all happened in a split second, Jongho managed to catch up to me and toss me but he can't swim either.

"Jongho!" I screamed as I tried to grab onto his hand, but to no avail. "Jongho!"

There it was. That raw, guttural scream for help that I was forced to listen to as the love of my life slowly disappeared from my sight.

"Y/N! Help me, I can't wake her up!"

I felt someone shake my shoulder and another one try to gently pat my face in an attempt to wake me up from my nightmare. When I opened my eyes, I was met with sighs of relief and a comforting hug.

"You can't scare us like that!" Wooyoung squawked as he let go of my face.

Someone wiped my tears and I realized I was in someone's arms. "I've never seen you like that," Mingi admitted, rubbing my arms for comfort. "You just kept screaming."

"Drink this..."

I greedily took the water that San gave me and gulped the whole thing in one go. My head pounded, the four of us were so close that they just barged in without knocking to hang out, especially now since we're trapped in town with nothing to do.

"Thank you," I murmured.

Mingi was in some of my classes in high school and we were both surprised when we both saw each other move here. He introduced me to sweet Wooyoung and he claimed that I was his 'best friend' and I just went along with him. He was the mutual friend that introduced me to San.

I got out of Mingi's hold and paced back and forth in my living room. "I was screaming?" I was confused. "Was I screaming anything?"

The three of them looked at each other with hesitant faces. The atmosphere in the room got tense, and I frowned. "What?" I joked. "Please tell me I wasn't saying something embarrassing."

"No, you weren't," Wooyoung pursed his lips. "You were screaming Jongho's name over and over again."

It was like a time bomb set into motion, like that song. Truth be told, that dream was the scariest I've had of Jongho so far.

"Your ex?" San frowned. "I thought you had a boyfriend?"

Mingi and Wooyoung's head snapped towards me in record speed, both of their eyes wide in utmost shock. Betrayal coated their features and I gasped softly, I haven't told them about Jongho living with me!

"That big ass guy reminds me of a bear," San chuckled, unaware of my glare at him. "He always comes every other day to buy your favourite snacks."

Jongho had always been attentive. Obviously, my taste in food has changed in five years, but still, he just knew what I liked.

"Ya, we were supposed to tell everything to each other, you traitor," Wooyoung fake sulked.

"Do we know who it is?" Mingi wondered.

I froze. Mingi was dead spot on; he did know Jongho because of our classes, but I've never shown both San and Wooyoung what Jongho looked like because there was simply no need. All they needed to know was my pain.

"You might," San beamed, making me glare at him harder. "Though I haven't seen him before until a couple of months back..."

I was about to retort something to try and wiggle myself out of this sticky situation, when I heard the keys and the doorknob jiggling.

"Why are there so many shoes out here? Y/N?" Jongho's voice grumbled from outside. Shit, shit!

But it was too late. When Jongho entered, his body tensed with mild surprise at two grown adult men smiling ear to ear at him. Mingi's jaw slacked open and he turned to look at me.

"Ah, that's him," San grinned. "Hello, Y/N's boyfriend!"

"Hello, San," Jongho curtly replied in true Jongho fashion. I can tell he was getting annoyed with the onslaught of attention.

It was something that never changed with him - he hated interacting with people he didn't know. He looked around and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he composed himself.

"You? Mingi seethed. Wooyoung and San were surprised at the animosity but I wasn't because this was a long time coming.

Mingi charged quickly at Jongho before anyone could stop him and grabbed him by the collar. "You're a piece of work, aren't you?"

Jongho was taken aback a bit, but a nasty smirk covers his face and I can tell Mingi immediately faltered. "Am I?" Jongho taunted.

"What the hell is going on? You know each other?" Wooyoung frowned. He protectively put me behind him. "Stay here for now, okay?"

San took the initiative to try and break them. "Mingi! What are you doing?" San panicked a bit. "He's not bothering you, let go of him!"

Jongho laughed menacingly, his eyes getting sharper and his aura darkening before my very eyes. "You lot are the ones who are bothersome right now."

San's eyes widened and was visibly taken aback at Jongho's venomous attitude and Mingi's hands noticeably loosened its grip.

"How are you, Mingi?" Jongho patted Mingi's back threateningly with a smirk. "Miss me?"

"Bastard!" Mingi spat and harshly shoved Jongho away from him.

"Stop it!" Wooyoung hissed as he rubbed my arms in comfort. "Can you guys not do this in front of Y/N?"

Jongho quickly regained his footing but not before San tried to help him. Jongho roughly shoved San off of him. "Woah, woah buddy," San put his arms in defense. "I'm just---"

"Get away from him," Mingi gritted his teeth and pointed at Jongho. San, being the helpful person he is, refused until Mingi spoke. "You have one minute to explain why you're here, Choi Jongho."

San gasped and his arms turned limp from his sides. "What did you say?" he hissed, pointing vehemently at a bored looking Jongho. "This is your ex?"

Everyone turned to look at me, even Wooyoung. I looked down at the floor in shame and I nodded. Mingi marched towards me and grabbed my arm to go to the other corner of the room while the other three tried to settle in.

Jongho's eye twitched as he turned to look at San. "Why didn't you tell me?" San snarled.

"You never asked," Jongho scoffed. "I've been paying with my card with my name on it and you never saw?"

"So," Mingi turned to me with his arm crossed. I sheepishly smiled at him but it wasn't working. "When are you going to tell us that you're back with your ex?"

"I-I wasn't!" I sputtered out at his bluntness.

"Jongho sure as hell ain't denying it," Mingi deadpanned. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Nothing," I shook my head. "He won't be here for long anyway."

It pained me to say it, but it was true. Mingi bit his lip in apprehension. "And how do you feel about that? Do you still love him?"

I froze. It wasn't something I thought about ever since he came along two months ago. "I don't know," I admitted, much to Mingi's dismay.

"Goddamn it, Y/N," he cursed. "You're setting yourself up for failure, and this time, it might hurt more."

When Mingi and I got back, Wooyoung and Jongho were in a heated verbal match with San interjecting a piece of his mind occasionally.

"You should have never come back," Wooyoung hissed, his attitude rivaling Jongho's. "And then what? You're going to leave again?"

Jongho's eyes blazed. "Watch your tongue or have it cut from your head."

I choose to sit between Jongho and Wooyoung so they won't have a fist fight. "Jongho, please stop," I pleaded. "You're making it worse."

Jongho glared at Wooyoung, his eyes focused and unblinking. At first, Wooyoung stood his ground and stared back, but when Jongho grinned and bared his teeth, Wooyoung caved in and crumbled.

"You don't scare me," Wooyoung mumbled - a total lie.

"And I don't like you," Jongho scoffed arrogantly.

My eyes widened. Five years ago, Jongho was never this straightforward and I could tell Mingi was a bit taken aback too. Wooyoung squawked at the admission.

"I don't like you either," Wooyoung huffed. "You hurt my best friend!"

The whole afternoon was spent with San and Wooyoung arguing with Jongho back and forth, but I couldn't shake off what Mingi said. Jongho showed no signs of wanting to up and leave but what's to say that he's only biding his time until the bridge is done.

I shuddered. It was possible. With Jongho, the future is uncertain and nothing is set in stone.

"Forgive me for saying this," San said sarcastically. "We were here when you upped and left Y/N."

"Exactly," Wooyoung interjected. "You can't just show up like nothing ever happened!"

"I hate to say it, Jongho, but they're right," Mingi shrugged.

Jongho leaned forward. There was an unmistakable gleam of cynicism in his eyes. "So," he began. "You mean to tell me that all of you are opposed to me staying here?"

"Yes," all three of them said at the same time.

Jongho nodded. "Fantastic. I shall stay longer, then."

He stood up and made his way to his bedroom with all of our mouths agape with his audacity. "Call me when you've kicked these cretins out, I'm going to take a nap," he told me before he shut the door.

"What?!" Wooyoung screeched as he stood up from the couch so fast, I got a whiplash. "That bastard!"

It took a while but I had managed to convince these three that I was going to be fine. The moment they all left, I managed to let out the breath that I didn't even realize I was holding. The cat's out of the bag now, so that's one less thing to worry about.

I knocked softly on Jongho's door to see if he was okay, but there was no response, so I'm assuming he fell asleep.

Bored, I plopped down the couch and turned the television on. The last time I turned this on was when I was watching out for the storm and it was still as mundane as ever. I shook my head as I flipped through channels.

Finally, I managed to settle on one that's watchable enough. Animal Kingdom. Fine, I could live with that. I groaned hard when a commercial came in, but instead of the regular commercials, this was a newscast.

"Coming all the way from our Korean Intelligence Agency live is Deputy Director Jeong..."

I frowned. Now that I think about it, there was this ongoing case of a well-known mafia in the city that the government was trying to take down. I raised the volume up to hear.

"Sir, would you say that we are close to solving this? And what about the infamous bank heist by the south of Seoul?"

Now that caught my attention. Jongho used to work in that bank when we were still starting out our relationship.

"We are doing our very best. We are closer than ever to---"

I was confused when the television suddenly turned black. I looked behind me and Jongho was glaring holes at the television as he held the remote control.

"You should go to sleep," he said, voice tight. "It's getting late."

I didn't know how to react. This wasn't the first time that Jongho turned off either my television or his car radio when we drove somewhere.

Deep down, I knew he was hiding something. I'm not foolish enough to not speculate. "I'm not sleepy yet," I said. "Would you like to watch something else with me then?"

"No," Jongho gritted his teeth. I jumped a bit on how harsh his voice had become.

But something in me snapped. "Choi Jongho," I marched towards him until I was directly on his face. "I understand perfectly well that you have problems with your career or whatever, after all, you left me for it."

Jongho's lips twist into a sneer and then he scoffs, but I cut him off. "I don't deserve this, this is my house," I stood my ground. "You can't act like you own it when you haven't even told me why!"

"Your house?" Jongho growled in anger, his tongue pressing against cheek in arrogance. "My name is still in the deed."

"So what?" I retorted with equal arrogance. "I'm the one who made this a home rather than just a place to sleep in!"

"I'm not telling you anything, we've talked about this!" Jongho raised his voice in frustration as he turned to walk away from me. "Why are you so dead set on finding out?"

"Are you hearing yourself?" I screeched. "We belonged to each other at one point, the least you could do is tell me!"

"How much of me are you willing to take?" Jongho banged his palms on the dining table, the sound of it echoing in the distance. "There's nothing left for you to take, don't you understand?"

"Why are you acting like this is my fault?" I screamed in frustration. "I've taken your bullshit for you! You have no respect!"

I also went to the table and banged my hands on it as well, just to show that he can't push me around like he used to. "Give me your reason!"

"Because I hate that I need you! Then, and right now," Jongho confessed in one breath.

My arms went limp at the revelation of his thoughts all along. When Jongho looked at me again, his eyes rimmed red as his chest rose up and down

When we were young, Jongho was my solace - my salvation, my everything. In another life, we could have had children by now, we could have been that couple that grew old and gray. But the truth was right here in front of me, I was the only one to ever have these dreams.

He'd made up his choice a long time ago, I was the only one holding on to a distant memory. This one hurt far worse than when Jongho left, because right now, I can't drive a nail through his mistakes.

"Y/N, please," Jongho's voice brought me out of that darkness. He still sounded angry, but he also sounded desperate.

His hand reaches out to cup my face and his thumb strokes my skin. "You're the only thing that's keeping me alive. Please, go to sleep."

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟑𝟏, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

I awoke to cold sweat again, the stickiness of it uncomfortable with how my shirt had clung to my skin. I sighed, another nightmare.

There were nights I fell asleep only because I got too tired from staying awake. I couldn't concentrate much when I woke up from the lack of sleep and it was concerning me.

Jongho and I haven't been on speaking terms for a week or so. His words had plagued my mind since then, but that's not what woke me up tonight.

The screams were back. Jongho's screams in my head were back.

With a heavy sigh and a massive headache, I got up from my bed and left the room to grab a glass of water. I didn't even bother putting on pants, I knew Jongho wouldn't be out in the dead of night.

"Get away from me..."

I paused midway from the glass touching my lips. I looked around, spooked that I was hearing things that I wasn't supposed to because of the sleep deprivation. I waited a little to see if I was going to hear something again.

"Please!"

A high-pitched, grating scream resounded from the entire house and I dropped the glass in shock. The sound of the glass breaking got drowned out from, yet again, another guttural scream.

At first, I thought someone from outside was asking for help and their voice was loud enough to filter in the house, but when another scream resounded, I gasped and slapped my hands over my mouth in a heartbreaking discovery.

It was the same scream in my dreams. The scream was coming from Jongho's room, and all this time, it was never a dream.

"Jongho?" I worriedly knocked on his door. My knocks got louder and louder, more frantic, when he didn't respond. "Jongho, please!"

His repeated screams pierced my heart. I tried everything I could as I screamed his name in urgency - punching the door, jiggling the doorknob, even kicking the door even though I knew it would be fruitless - but nothing.

An idea popped in my head and I quickly acted upon it. Tears started freely flowing from my eyes pathetically as my hands shook too much from finding the right key in Jongho's room. All this time, Jongho was having nightmares and I didn't even realize or help.

"Fuck, fuck!" I hissed when I dropped the keys. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop my shaking hands.

I almost tripped on my feet when I quickly rushed into the bedroom. My heart broke when I looked at Jongho. He was contorted into an odd angle onto himself, his face red and his entire body sweating. He had no shirt on, but I couldn't even care about that right now.

"Jongho, love, please wake up," I tried shaking him gently so he wouldn't freak out when he woke up, but when that didn't work, I tried again.

I burst out in pitiful tears when Jongho let out an anguished groan. His voice was agonizing, primal even, and my heart couldn't handle seeing him like this.

"Jongho, come on now, wake up," I tapped his beautiful face a little harder this time. But that also didn't do anything.

In desperation, I peppered his face with little kisses while also shaking him. "Jongho!" I said out loud since gentle methods didn't work. But nothing.

What did work was when I thumped my fists on his hard chest. It was my turn to scream when Jongho suddenly grabbed me and flipped me on the bed so he was on top of me. He started choking me in a blinded rage and I clawed his hands in a panic.

"J-Jongho, i-it's me," I coughed, wheezing as I felt the oxygen leave my body. "B-Baby bear, p-please..."

The light seemed to come back to his eyes and they slowly melted from this hallucination to something more sentient. I took a big gulp of breath when he let go and wheezed uncontrollably. Jongho's horrified face put two and two together when he stared at the red marks on my neck.

"Oh God," he choked. He hurriedly grabbed my shoulders as he smoothed my hair out of my face so he could see. "I am so, so sorry, are you okay?"

I nodded and unconsciously held onto his arm. "Are you okay?" I worriedly asked.

"For fuck's sake, love, can you please try and worry about yourself for once? I choked you, for crying out loud!" Jongho said, irritation lacing his features.

"I'm good, seriously, I expected it," I assured him truthfully. I pressed a hand to his face and caressed it. "How are you feeling?"

His body froze at the gesture and a storm started to brew in his eyes as he hesitated to move. I bit my lip and nodded. It looked like a huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders as he closed his eyes and nuzzled his face in my hands.

A realization started to slowly dawn on me. The fear I felt as Jongho slowly slipped from my fingers just now was the proof of my love for him.

The intimacy of our setup right now also slowly dawns on me. A chill went up my spine when Jongho kissed my palm. The chill further down and I almost cursed when I realized that I was only wearing my shirt and my panties, no bra.

Jongho seemed to realize it at the same time. He slowly traced my skin with his eyes from my legs, my stiff nipples, and my face. I wasn't faring any better - Jongho's toned chest was up my face. I gulped, he was much bigger than I remembered him to be.

"May I?" Jongho tugged my shirt. When I nodded and raised my arms, Jongho hastily took my shirt off.

His breath hitched as he looked at me over, the desire in his eyes overpowering the nightmares that plagued his mind.

He hovered over me as I laid down flatly on the bed. I let out a breathy moan when he started to kiss the sweet spots on my neck as his rough hand gently kneaded my tits. I whispered his name directly in his ear when he rolled my nipples in between his fingers.

"You know," he pulled away to spread my legs so he could go in between them. "This was my favourite position when I was with you."

It caught me off guard. I blushed at his crudeness and straightforwardness. "Why?" I asked.

"Because," he began. I gasped when he humped my clothed pussy. "The way I could go deeper in you always made my head spin, especially when I see your fucked out face when you're close."

My eyes widened. Sure, back then, Jongho would talk dirty, but he never talked this dirty. I couldn't hold back a loud moan when he humped particularly hard against me.

He leaned down directly to my ear and whispered sensually. "But I especially love when you scream my name when you beg me to make you come."

"Kiss me," I blurted out.

Jongho growled before he held the back of my head and pulled my lips to his. It was passionate, but at the same time, filthy. It was years and years of longing and want. I felt wetness down there when I felt his hard cock twitch inside his sweatpants.

"Jongho," I moaned as I tried to pull away, but he kept trying to chase my lips with his. "Jongho..."

"Mmm," he complained in between his kisses. It took everything in me not to keep going.

"Maybe we should stop," I squealed when his hand brushed against my inner thigh and pussy.

"We should," he agreed, his voice hoarse with want. "One more and I will."

This time, he claimed my lips stronger. He groaned in my mouth when I pulled on his hair as we both blindly touched each other in random places. But eventually, Jongho had to reluctantly break the kiss.

One thing that never did change was his sweetness and aftercare. He put my shirt back on and we both laid down next to each other with his arm around me and my head on his chest.

"I've been having these nightmares for a while," Jongho said out loud all of a sudden. "I've done...things I will regret for the rest of my life."

He kissed the top of my head. "Things you don't want to know."

He was right. If it's supposed to be like this, then I don't want to know what's bothering him because the more he dives into it, the more I get hurt seeing him fight the demons I don't even dare expose myself to.

"I'm trying to help you," I said, despite my thoughts. "It always seems like you're always running away."

"Maybe because I am," he sighed. "I've been a prisoner in my own hands for a while now."

"I'm sorry," was all I could say. I wanted to say that he wasn't the only one; I've been trapped and enslaved in my own mind for so long that I'm surprised that I haven't lost my mind yet.

When Jongho didn't say anything else, I slowly got up from his hold. I already missed his warmth. "I should get going so you can rest," I mumbled.

When my feet were close to touching the floor, I felt his hands hold on my arm to stop me. "Wait," Jongho whispered.

I was taken aback by how soft his voice was, especially if I was comparing it from a week ago when we had that argument. He pulled me to his lap, his head nuzzling the corner of my neck. I blushed profusely, I didn't even feel this way when we made out.

"Stay," his muffled voice requested as his hug became tighter. "I need you right now."

"Jongho," I whined softly. There was nothing left to say, we were blurring the lines between a host helping an old friend out. I bit my lip, to be fair, we already blurred that line earlier when we made out.

"Just for tonight," he bargained. "Then we can ignore each other again tomorrow."

I know I shouldn't. The logical part of my ego is aware that this was a terrible idea, but the emotional part of my psyche wants me to give myself to my desires just this once.

I crawled out of his lap and positioned myself comfortably on the bed. "How can I go back to ignoring you after this?" I mumbled as he started to spoon me.

"You don't," he answered. "It was hell to know you're here with me but refused to talk."

I hummed. "You know it was your fault right?"

"Yes," he admitted. "Let's catch up on some sleep now, okay?"

"Are you insane?!" I buried my face in my hands. "Don't scare me like that ever again!"

Jongho laughed, his face breaking out into the most beautiful ray of sunshine as he smoothed his wet hair out of his face. He hugged me as tears started to flow from my eyes.

"Hush now, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd react this bad," he rubbed my back for added comfort.

"Are you kidding?" I sniffled, shuffling my feet to turn and point at the spot where Jongho had fallen by the ocean as a prank. "That scream you'd let out, I thought that was the end of you, you bastard!"

"I'm so sorry," he chuckled at my pouty face. He pouted, how could I resist him? "Let's go swimming properly now, okay? This beach is perfect for us."

I just knew after that, that I will never hear that scream ever again.

My eyes flew open for absolutely no reason this time. My heart was beating out of control when I did. I didn't feel good, I'm about to throw up.

Something was very wrong. There was a sense of impending doom looming over me that I can't explain.

Or maybe I'm just too exhausted and paranoid. I moved my hand to hug Jongho for comfort but my heart could burst out of my ribcage when all my hands touched were pillows and blankets.

I could feel tears forming in my eyes faster than my mind could comprehend as I rose up quickly from the bed. I did it so fast that blood rushed towards my head and it rendered me nauseous. I almost cursed when I tripped on my two feet, but no matter, I had to find Jongho.

There was only one thing in my mind - had he left me again?

It was definitely a panic attack rising. The room was spinning, the overwhelming doom and desperation was making me function, but it was difficult. What might be something as innocent as Jongho maybe using the bathroom had distorted into something horrifying in my mind.

It's terror, it's shame, it's desperation and it's death all at once.

"You know they're just going to find you, correct?"

I rejoiced at the voice I heard, but all that doom came rushing back when I realized that the voice did not belong to my beloved.

"Of course, I do. You play me for a fool."

That was Jongho, but the way he spoke terrified me. I quickly rushed to the backyard when I realized that the voices belonged there, but I stopped when I took a quick peek at the window overlooking there. My heart dropped, I wasn't expecting anything, but I definitely wasn't expecting another man to be with Jongho.

"What do you want?" Jongho snarled lowly, his voice taking a darker turn. "It must be important if you made your unwelcome presence known."

The man laughed heartily. "Oh Jongho, straightforward as always," he smirked. "Fear not, I won't take long. How's life as a domesticated man?"

"You shut your fucking mouth, or I'll make sure you never talk again," Jongho hissed. He took a step of two towards the man, who didn't even flinch. Rather, he looked amused, like he knew Jongho wouldn't go through with it.

As for me, I felt freezing water pour over me as the cold reality of what Jongho said rang through my head. My Jongho was sweet and kind, and this man in front of me was not him.

"Feisty," the man grinned sadistically. "You know I love that fire inside of you. Quite a shame that you don't want to be something more."

I didn't move or even breathe. More than what? Something tells me I wasn't supposed to be listening to this.

"You say that as if it's such a bad thing," Jongho smirked.

"It's not," the man admitted. "But for the life we lead, it can be."

"Cut the crap, Hongjoong. Tell me what you want."

"Say 'please' and I'll think about it."

Jongho's laugh afterwards made my body rigid. It was sinister - evil. This was the man who bared his heart and soul to me last night, and he wasn't one for feelings to begin with. I never thought I'd get scared of Jongho, until now.

I strained my ears when they talked in hushed tones. I couldn't hear any but if I moved even an inch, I might get discovered. If this was the choice that Jongho made after he left me, then God bless us all.

"In all seriousness," the man - Hongjoong - spoke. "That's all I know. I won't tell anyone you're here, but if I were you, I would do something about it."

"You think I give a fuck about all of this?" Jongho snapped, his loud voice piercing through the night. He looked nothing short of terrifying. "Do not lie to me, I'm the worst person you can lie to and you know it."

"Or you could just call it quits. You know what to do," Hongjoong tilted his head in amusement. He reminded me of an undertaker for some reason.

I gasped but quickly covered my mouth with my shaking hands. My heart stopped beating for a bit as I watched Jongho hold out a gun and point the other end at Hongjoong, whose expression changed from amused to irritated.

"Or you can tell me what you know or I'll put a hole on your head and look for it, myself," Jongho threatened, his hold on the gun firm and absolute.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Hongjoong's lips curl to a taunting sneer. "What would she say? What's her name again? Y/N?"

Flashes of memories go through my head one by one. I still remember the day we first kissed. Jongho was so shy at that time he didn't even want to look at me. It was slow, sweet, and sure. I also remember the first time we laid under the stars and watched the shooting star. My wish back then was for Jongho to stay the way he is. And he told me he would.

What a terrible lie that had been. The Jongho I knew held my hands, not the cold barrel of a pistol.

"Keep her out of this," Jongho snarled, his hands clearly shaking from where I was with rage. "No mafia is going to stop me from destroying all of you if you involve her, so whatever you're thinking, think again."

“You’re the one who should think twice, Jongho,” Hongjoong hissed as he tips the gun away from his face with his. “We have an audience.”

My heart exploded then and there when Hongjoong’s eyes met mine. He was smirking, but there was a hint of regret in his eyes, something he didn’t hide. How did he know I was here? Had he known I was eavesdropping all this time? It was as if he wanted me to hear everything.

Jongho visibly stiffened before he turned to also look at me with disbelieving eyes. I couldn’t help the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes - he looked utterly defeated and devastated at the sight of me. It was the face of a man whose whole world was falling right before his very eyes.

There was only one expression I could give him - fear.

“Blossom,” Jongho croaked as he dropped his gun, as if it disgusted him, but we both knew it didn’t. “I can explain…”

Before I knew it, I was running away from the scene - away from Jongho - like if I pretended that I wasn’t there, then surely none of those happened. I ran as fast as I with my wobbling legs as I heard the back door swing open and slam close, signaling that Jongho was here.

I felt like free falling, what had my beloved become? Who was this criminal living with me? What had he dragged me into now that there was someone like Hongjoong who knew I existed and how important I was to Jongho? I was no fool, despite my emotions, I knew what their conversation insinuated.

And then the regret came. If I had held onto Jongho a little tighter five years ago, would he be the same person I once knew? If I had just searched for him a little harder back then, would I have pulled him away from this darkness that clouded him?

It hurt seeing the love of my life transform into something I knew he wasn’t.

I screamed bloody murder when I felt a hand hold my arm like a vice, refusing to let go. “Y/N, look at me,” he demanded with the same authoritative voice he used outside. When he saw the fear in my eyes, he softened.

“No, Jongho, get away from me!” I cried out as I tried to pull my arm away, but it only resulted in him holding them tighter. “Jongho!”

“No,” he growled. “We’re going to talk---Y/N!”

Somehow, through pure adrenaline, I was able to twist my arm free from him to quickly enter my room and lock the door shut. My heart was about to fly out of my ribcage with the emotions I was feeling and I didn’t even know which one to acknowledge first.

“Y/N! Open the fucking door!” Jongho shouted as he violently rammed on the door like it was a punching bag. “You better not let me catch you once I break this fucking door! Open it!”

I broke down sobbing as all the energy left my body. I sank down by the corner of my room, burying my face in my knees while I covered my ears with both my hands to block out Jongho’s violent rage outside the door. Each bang had me jumping out of my skin, the terrifying sound rattling my head.

This wasn’t my Jongho, I kept chanting to myself like a crazed person, but I can’t deny it any longer.

I knew this wasn't him the moment he stepped inside the house. He was different - he was angrier, more temperamental, soulless - and all this time, I kept making excuses for him, but I can’t anymore.

I screamed in terror when the doorknob was kicked with force and Jongho used that opportunity to slam the door open. When he tried to march towards me, I screamed again as I backed away.

“Don’t come near me!” I sobbed pitifully, my shaking legs almost giving out from the weight of my emotions.

Jongho looked devastated. He kept reaching out to me but all I did was back away and shout at him. “Please, love, please,” his voice cracked. “I’m not going to hurt you, please don’t look at me like that…”

“Like what?” I glared at him as I felt my blood pressure rise to a dangerous level. Something in him snapped with how mad I sounded.

"Like I'm vile," he spat, his glare leveling mine. "Like I'm a monster. You don't know anything, so quit it."

I scoffed loudly. It ticked him off but I didn't stop. I feel like I was slowly losing myself to this massive disconnect from reality. I am losing my mind.

"Does the man become the monster, or the monster become man?" Uncontrollable tears were now falling from my eyes. Something snapped and all I saw was red.

But I wasn't the only one. "Yeah, you think you're smart?" Jongho laughed out loud like the maniac he had become in my eyes. It was the type that seeped through my bones. "You want to know what I did? You really want to know?"

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled out the same gun I saw earlier and he disassembled it right in front of me. He wasn't gentle with it either, he was rough; deliberate. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he slammed the remnants of it by the bedside table I had.

"I've used this far too many times that I can remember," he hissed. "You think that this is some sort of game that I can just pause just because this life isn't going according to what you want right now? You think that this world revolves around you?"

He spat on the ground as I felt the sinews of my heart break. "Did you honestly think I was that same man you knew before, Y/N? Did you honestly think that we could ever go back to being the same?"

"You said it yourself, didn't you?" I snapped. "There was nothing left to take---"

"So hate me for the things I've done!" Jongho raised his voice before he rubbed his face, frenzied. "But not for what I've now become."

I was at a loss for words, taken aback with how frantic we both had become in each other's presence. "We're basically strangers now," I gritted my teeth. "You have no right to talk about this like you're the victim!"

Jongho's face melted into something of concern when he realized that my sanity was slowly slipping away from me. I laughed, and then I laughed some more, and then I cried. I cried so hard even Jongho was surprised at all the hurt I was holding in.

"Everybody kept telling me to move on, to find someone else when they see how lonely I've become," I took a deep breath, but all that did was strengthen my resolve to break something. "They don't get it, I physically, mentally cannot move on."

"I gave you five years to do it," Jongho said as if it was so simple. Everything stopped all at once, except for the

That did it. I screamed, that spiral within me surging my voice to let out all the pain, the anger, the melancholy. The need to hit and destroy something became so overwhelming and worst of all, I had no idea how to let it all out.

"I hate you!" I wailed as I swiped everything I saw - glass, paper, furniture - anything. Jongho tried to go to me but all I did was hit him in the chest. "I hate you! You don't know, Choi Jongho, I was driven to madness with denial, you make me fucking sick!"

He narrowly avoided me as I tried to lunge at him. "Stop this!" Jongho hissed. I can feel the anger in me start to form. All the denial, the hate, was overtaking me.

I tried to thrash away in panic when I felt Jongho's hands steady me, the remorse and sorrow evident on his face, because he knows - he knows that he did this to me. He drove me to my insanity.

"Shh, baby, please," Jongho shushed as he tried to hold me, but my adrenaline was stronger than the both of us. "It's okay, shh, I'm sorry, I'm here now---"

"No!" I shrieked, my throat not being able to take it. I punched, kicked, scratched at anything, my vision was black. "You killed what was left of the good in me! Let me go!"

"I got you, my love, I got you," Jongho hushed me like I was a child that needed comfort and reaffirmation. "Just like that, let it out on me..."

My screams were muffled when Jongho brought me to his chest. He held my arms behind me for good measure and it was when everything came crashing down. I sobbed pitifully in the arms of the very man I swore to love and hate for as long as I lived.

"You're doing good, baby, let it out," Jongho rubbed all over my back. "Everything's going to be okay..."

"Jongho, please," I begged as he kissed the top of my head over and over again. "I'm so exhausted, please let me be broken..."

"How?" he whispered. "You're not broken, stop saying that."

I couldn't feel my body when Jongho laid me down on the bed. All I did was stare at the ceiling while he leaned his head on my chest. He stayed like that for a while, unmoving.

"Stay here," he murmured. I saw his misty eyes when I got up, but he tried his very best to hide it from me. Was he crying for me or was it for the burden I caused him?

I laid there for what felt like forever, the dissociation of my body from my conscious mind weighing heavily in my mind. Everything hurts - my body, my heart, my soul, Jongho. Shame trickled but I couldn't seem to care right now. I had just temporarily lost my mind on Jongho, how was I supposed to look him in the eye again?

All the things I've said, I can't take them back. Not that I would, everything I said was the God-honest truth.

So hate me for the things I've done, but not for what I've now become.

But I could never, ever hate him. It was such a sad way to live, because I knew I'd still love him from the bottom of my heart even if he's worse than a monster. I would take all of him and more, I would give him all of me just so he can always have more backups in case he ever felt empty.

I would kill for him. That's how much I loved him.

"I'm going to bathe you," he said rather than ask when he came back. "We can either do it here so you wouldn't have to walk, or we can go to the bathroom."

I stopped the urge to smile. Leave it to this man to still stay sane and rational even after a horrible mental crisis. I shook my head, indicating that I had no interest in walking, and he took that queue to start undressing me.

There was nothing malicious about it as he stripped me naked. He was deadest focused on soothing me and making me feel better by using the basin and damp cloth on my body. But why did it make me feel worse?

"Was it something I did?" I whispered. I was treading on dangerous waters here. "Was it my fault that you left me?"

While I knew I didn't influence Jongho directly on his decisions, I can't help but believe that everything was my fault as to why he'd turn into the darker side of life. "Where did I go wrong?"

He paused from dabbing the cloth on my chest. I didn't realize how close he was until he looked me straight in the eye. "Is that how you see it?" he asked, his breath fanning my lips as he tucked a stray hair from my face. "You think that this was your fault?"

Fresh set of tears flowed down my eyes, but instead of anger, they were from the loss of out blossoming love. "If not me, then who?" I smiled through them. "C-Can you tell me if there was something that I needed to change in myself back then?"

It stung to ask it, but I had to. Grief passed through Jongho's eyes as he completely stopped what he was doing. It made my heart ache because I've never seen him look this sad before. He set down the cloth back in the basin and he got into the bed beside me.

He grabbed my chin to make me look at him. "I hate that it seemed you were never enough," he pursed his lips. "Nothing I can do will ever put all your tears back in your eyes, but I can assure you, you were perfect."

In that split second before his touch, every nerve in my body and brain was awakened. It's the anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words - in a way that's so completely tangible. The tension was palpable.

"Then tell me all the things that you regret," I coaxed with gentle persuasion as his hand traveled all over my naked body. He hissed, like he was now just realizing that I was in my naked glory right in front of him.

Jongho shook his head. "The regrets are useless in my mind," he murmured, his breathing laboured. "But if I must confess, you never left my damn mind for five years. I never hated that I needed you."

"And if I'm being honest," Jongho leaned in to give my shoulders sweet kisses. "I'm not over you. Never will be."

I tried to cover my modesty by putting my arms on my chest, not that he hasn't seen anything before. He grabbed my hand firmly and set it down. "Don't," he warned.

The way he stared at me had me mesmerized. I've seen this look, but I never noticed how intense they were. His eyes could burn me down, and it was everything I ever needed and wanted. but at the same time, it was the sanest out of all the madness and possessiveness he held.

Jongho was my drug, I realized. I was instantly intoxicated. "You're going to break me," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Jongho's arms wrapped around my back and in one touch, everything was over. "Then I'm going to make sure I break you in the best way possible."

Our bodies still fit together even after all these years; our lips molded with each other. I was never meant to win - I need him but if I give in, then I lose everything. But losing everything seemed so little in comparison.

I feel his hand wrap around my hair and tug it lightly and it makes me sigh a little in between our kisses. "I love the little sounds you make," he murmured as he tugged my hair harder. He tugged it so hard, my head fell backwards.

"Jongho," I groaned at the inexplicable pleasure the pain brought.

My hands tightened their grip on his shirt as his hands traveled everywhere, each touch igniting a fire that cannot be extinguished. "You've always been mine," I felt his hand move from my cheeks to my mouth. "Even if you were with someone else, you were still mine. Tell me, did you let anyone touch you?"

I was at a loss for words. His thick, veiny hands suddenly wrapped itself around my throat, his eyes were cold as his gaze remained determined. I squeaked when Jongho tightened the choke. The pleasure was insurmountable. We've never had it rough during our time together and the very thought of happening now made my stomach churn in excitement.

"No," I breathed out. "Only you."

"That's right," he chuckled darkly. I let out a soft squeal when he licked a stripe on my exposed neck. "God knows what I'd do if I found out you did. Nobody touches my whore but me, yes?"

I felt a small tingle at the base of my spine and I let them spread all over my body. I bit my lip, highly turned on, and it didn't escape Jongho's attention. He smirked, a wicked look that overtook his soft features.

"Aw, is my little slut wet?" he mocked as his hand slowly went down and down. I whined when he stopped directly above my pubic area. He laughed when I tried to gyrate my hips up, but Jongho deliberately pushed me down. "Ah ah ah," he grinned sadistically. "You're not getting off unless I say so, got it?"

"Then what the hell are we doing this for?" I snapped.

The moment I said those, I instantly regretted it. His eyes widened at my defiance before he snapped out of it and roughly grabbed my cheeks and squeezed it. It whined because it hurt but it only encouraged him to squeeze even tighter.

”You misunderstand something,” he began. “I have no problem leaving you here dripping while you beg for your hole to get fucked, but let’s get one thing straight.”

His words sent a chill through me, and his voice was this smooth, dangerously low tone, but it was sharp and firm. “You’re mine. You know what that means? I get to do whatever I want with you. You just have to say ‘yes’.”

I know I shouldn’t as this was far from my personality, but I was to be a brat for him just to see how he’d discipline me. “Go fuck yourself,” I hissed.

He raised a brow, smirking at the game I was playing. He begins to pull me forward as his lips finally create their mark on my skin. And then, he bit my shoulders as hard as he could. Wetness rushed through my core at the intense pain, but when he didn’t let go, I screamed in protest.

"Say you're sorry," he murmurs softly. I feel the hairs at the back of my neck rise.

"I'm not saying sor--"

My voice is cut off as he shoves two fingers into my mouth. "If you’re not going to, then I’d rather you keep your mouth shut," he sneered in that condescending tone I know so well.

His thick wet fingers slid from my mouth when he saw me tremble. He effortlessly towered over me when he laid me down and for a second, his facade fell as his eyes searched mine for permission. Despite the haze, I smiled at him, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine.

It was more intense than when we made out before. It was raw and it left both of us breathless. It could have made tears in my eyes; I could tell he was pouring all the things he couldn’t tell me in this one single kiss. I mewled when I felt his roam all over me while our tongues were tangled in a fierce battle for dominance.

I felt his hand go lower and lower until I felt that telltale pleasure I’ve been craving for. “Mmm,” I let out a breathy moan when Jongho’s finger traced my slit. “P-Please…”

”Take it then,” he groaned when he put a finger inside. My fingers grip the sheets as every thrust of his finger made me moan louder and louder.

He didn’t stay long in there but he made up for it when he began to stroke my throbbing clit. His other hand made its way up one of my swollen nipples, flicking it the same time as he did down there made me almost come undone.

’”That’s enough,” he deadpanned as he suddenly stopped and then he pulled away.

”Jongho!” I whined in frustration, pressing my thighs together to find relief, but he grabbed them so I wouldn’t be able to do anything. The only sign that he was into this like I am was the big tent on his crotch.

I blushed profusely. Years and years of pent up sexual frustration was getting to me, and now that Jongho was right here in front of me watching me almost beg for his cock, the feeling was exhilarating.

“Come here,” he growled. I squealed when he suddenly spread my legs and got in between them.

It was embarrassing but I couldn’t even think of that because he suddenly buried his face in my pussy. He hooks my legs up his shoulders and the intensity of his tongue had me dizzy with pleasure. “Jongho—”

”Less talking, more moaning,” he demanded with a painful squeeze to my thighs.

I didn’t need to be told twice. Pleasure rips through me as he lapped on my cunt like he was a starved man. When I tried to wriggle away, he snaked his arms around my thighs, effectively locking me down into place. Suddenly, he slapped my ass, tongue still working on my clit.

“Fucking hell, Jongho, love,” a long moan came out from me when the sting of his slap added to my growing pleasure. He did it again, his palms smacking my behind so hard, I jut forward the bed. And he does it again, and again, and again. It left me a blubbering mess as I uttered his name like a prayer.

”You little slut,” he hissed. Slap. “Yes, take it.“ Slap. “Fuck, you look beautiful like this,” Slap. “Take it, take it.” Slap. “Fucking take it!”

”Jongho, please, please!” I cried in mixed pain and pleasure. I was pretty sure I’d bruise the next day because my skin felt very raw.

“Beg for it,” Jongho sucked and lapped my juices again. “Come on, Y/N, beg for it like the whore you are.”

”Please, please, please!” I sobbed, tears falling from my eyes. He groaned at my pitiful state. “Make me come, please! I really, really love you, please!”

I screamed when he inserted two fingers inside me and began sliding them in and out, the wet sounds of my pussy rivaling how loud my moans were. “That’s what I want to fucking hear,” he chuckled darkly. “Say it again. Look at me when you say it.”

I arched my back involuntarily as I chased that high Jongho was willing to give me. His fingers pistoned in and out and I rocked my hips against him to meet his thrusts. “I love you, Jongho, I love you,” I choked out. I was overstimulated, the line between pleasure and pain blurring out.

He goes faster, if it is possible. My moans were desperate, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Then come,” he demanded. “If you really love me, then fucking come for me.”

The force of my orgasm had me reeling with a loud scream. It had me seeing white for the first time in a while as my back arched into an angle where it would have been unnatural had it not been for the quivering climax Jongho's fingers subjected me into.

He leaned in and gave me sweet kisses all over my face. "You okay, love?" Jongho murmured softly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and nodded. "Good. Because now I need my fill."

It took me a minute to recover and my eyes widened at his crudeness. He smiles sadistically. "I don't care if you can't take it. I'm going to fuck you anyway."

I whimpered in response, my entire body flushing with heat as my pussy clenched onto nothing. I could not believe that I was getting off to Jongho being this dominant and rough. It certainly scratched that itch I've been trying to relieve for a while now.

I did not want to just have sex, I needed to get fucked.

"I can see it in your eyes, you know?" he chuckled as he slowly undressed himself. My mouth ran dry when I finally got a glimpse of his body - he was huge. That included his cock. "You need to be taken, pounded like the fucktoy you are."

He grabbed my hair and aligned my mouth to his throbbing erection. "Suck," he demanded. He didn't wait for me to accommodate him, he just straight up thrusted in my mouth until he bottomed out.

I gagged but he didn't stop right there. My muffled chokes spurred him on, my eyes started to water as tears rolled down my cheeks and saliva mixed with his salty precum started to drip to my chin. He groaned, low and breathy, picking up a good angle as his balls started to slap against my chin.

"You dirty little whore," he growled, gripping my hair tightly. "You love choking on my cock, don't you?"

I whispered a sound of agreement, because he was right. I did love it. Suddenly, he pulled out from me. I tried to breathe, but clearly, Jongho had other plans. He got on top of me and aligned his shaft to my entrance.

“Ready?” Jongho bit his lip when I nodded. We both let out a groan when he finally entered me, bottoming out in one go. “I missed this,” he thrusts once. “I can’t believe I lasted this long without this cunt.”

"P-Please move,” I moaned. “I need to feel you—”

I began to spiral at the intimacy and at how hard he was thrusting into me. The feel of him stretching my already abused pussy was what got me. His instantaneous domination towards me as he plunged deeper and deeper inside me almost tipped me to the very edge of that white chasm I’ve been craving to fall into.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking killing me like this,” he hissed when I squeezed my cunt on his cock. “You like my cock filling you up?”

It didn't take long before I was squealing with wild abandon and trembling with how rough he was being. It was filthy fucking; the only sounds in the room were skins slapping against each and other the bed creaking. He looked down at his cock sliding in and out of my dripping cunt and I could tell the sight pushed him over the edge.

"Jongho, fuck! Yes, fuck me harder,” I sobbed.

"Shut the fuck up,” he sneered. He fucked harder anyway and I gasped when he wraps his hands on my neck. “You do not tell me what to do, yeah?”

His hand squeezed my throat, his grip strengthening, but he really wasn't really choking me yet. It was more like holding me in my place. His eyes widened and I closed my eyes in shame when we both felt my pussy gush. “Holy hell,” he grinned. “Didn’t know you liked that.”

“Only when you do it,” I moaned.

At first, the sensation was ecstatic, but when Jongho actually started getting carried away, I tried to pull at his elbow. I didn’t want to come yet, so I tried again, but Jongho didn’t budge. “Take your hand off or I will actually choke you,” he threatened.

I bit back a whimper but I obeyed anyway. “J-Jongie, if you k-keep doing it, g-gonna come…”

“Hold it. I haven’t allowed you yet,” he leaned forward until his face was inches from mine. “You are going to obey. Not because I forced you, not because of any punishment, not because you need to, and not even because you want to.”

His lips claim mine in a stormy kiss. “You are going to do it because you are mine. Clear?”

I moaned, my lips pressed firm against his. Without breaking the kiss, Jongho reached around my waist, lowering it until he reached my ass. He pulled me closer and the angle of him pressing my ass up to meet his thrusts made him groan into my mouth erotically.

My hands weren't idle, reaching around him, one sliding to his head and running through his hair, and the other feeling the muscles in his back. I dug my nails onto his back when his cock touched my cervix and he growled against my skin.

“Do it again,” he groaned. I did as told and I scratched his back and dug my nails as hard as I could. “Fuck, Y/N, fuck!”

That did it for me. His high pitched moans always had me reeling, especially now that I felt the familiar tickle of another orgasm threatening to rip onto me and Jongho’s thrusts were getting sloppier as he chased his own high.

"Look at me real quick," he urged. I did as told. "I love you, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know," he whispered as he tucked the stray hairs away from my eyes. "No matter what happens, I will always love you."

The desperation in his eyes scared me a bit. I blinked back the sudden sting of my tears as my emotions drove me greater heights of pleasure. Those three words were what I longed to hear all these years. “You’re not going to leave?” I choked.

”Love, that broken bridge was repaired a month prior, and I’m still here,” he gulped. “You can come now, give it to me.”

I came on command. It was the most intense orgasm Jongho had ever delivered to me. I twisted and writhed underneath him as his thrusts began to speed up with his own orgasm.

He ignored my shrieks of overstimulation as he fucked me harder and harder. His thrusts were becoming more and more erratic, and with trembling hands, I reached down and massaged his balls. With one hard thrust and a loud roar, Jongho came inside me, splattering my walls with his cum.

Between ragged breaths, the both of us slowly came down from our euphoric high. "Was I too rough on you?" Jongho asked softly. Long gone was the sex demon. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I mumbled under my breath. "A bit sore since it's been a while. You were perfect."

"Mmm," he hummed in response. I gasped a bit when he suddenly stood up and began to carry me. "Let's get you cleaned up," was all he said before he started walking to the bathroom.

I was so out of it that the next thing I knew was that we were both soaking in the bathtub, just enjoying each other's presence. I have never felt so peaceful in my life until now.

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" he thoughtfully asked.

"No, not now," I shook my head. "Just relax with me, are you okay with that?"

He hummed again. This was how he was, he never really talked a lot, and I was perfectly fine with it. I sat perfectly still in between Jongho's legs, leaning my head back on his chest as he played with my hair.

"You know what my biggest fears were during the five years we were apart?" Jongho suddenly said out of the blue just when I was about to fall asleep.

"No," I frowned. I was under the assumption that he was too preoccupied to focus on my memory back then. "What were they?"

"That I'll only remember your face, but not your name," he kissed my temple and his lips lingered there. "That I'd forget you, but not the time we spent."

𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

We fell in love in September. It was as if no time had passed between the two of us and we resumed that flame that once burned for our love.

"Smile," I urged him as I raised the camera so I could take an updated selfie of the two of us.

At first, he rolled his eyes at my antics, but he smiled anyway and leaned closer to me. "Happy?" Jongho flicked my nose playfully. "You owe me something."

I giggled and I leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek but my eyes widened when he suddenly turned so our lips met instead. I felt him smile through the kiss and I knew he wanted to make out but I was laughing too much to continue.

His love was so warm and call me corny, but everything he did was so cute to me and I just wanted to explode.

He was my home. I have never felt more alive than when I was with Jongho. I know what love feels like - it feels beautiful, but it also hurts like nothing else. I suppose this 'true love', we always endured despite everything.

He was becoming less and less tense, something I never thought ever since he lost his temper back then when that man - Hongjoong - came around to visit. I wasn't dumb, I knew Jongho was doing something shady, but I digress.

At this point, I don't want to know what Jongho has been doing in his spare time the last five years. Whatever it was, I can live not knowing what happened so long as Jongho stays with me like this for the rest of our days.

He may not be the Jongho I once and loved, but I was willing to love this new version of him even more.

"Why don't you get ready? Wear your best dress," he said when we broke apart. "Let's go out for dinner. My treat."

"You always treat me," I frowned. "Let's split."

"Would that make you feel better?" he wondered. "I don't believe in that stereotype, blossom. I just want food."

I laughed, but nodded anyway. "It would. You're my boyfriend, Jongho, not my bank account."

"It really isn't like that, but whatever you say," he shrugged. "How long will you take?"

I told him thirty minutes, but unfortunately, when he saw me in this black bodycon dress I purchased years ago, we got a bit frisky and let it out of our systems before we actually went out and drove.

"We're going to be late at our reservation, Jongie. Seriously?" I frowned as I hurried to do my makeup quickly using the side mirror of the car.

He scoffed after he parked. "Oh, please. You love my cum---"

"Anyway," I hissed, to which he laughed out loud. "Let's go, sex always makes me hungry."

"Well, I already had my fill," he shrugged. I stared at him, flabbergasted because there were people around us and they most definitely heard what he insinuated.

Jongho took me to the local steakhouse where Mingi worked part-time as a waiter. He was unimpressed as he begrudgingly trudged towards our table. "It's going to be chilly soon, you guys want to go inside?" Mingi offered.

"I've been cooped up in the house, fresh air is nice," I smiled as I gestured at the outdoor tables.

"What would you guys have?" Mingi asked in his professional mode. Jongho was about to speak when got cut off. "I wasn't asking you," he hissed.

"Song Mingi," I frowned. "Be nice."

"Let him," Jongho smirked as he chewed on the free bread given to us. "He was about to just leave, weren't you, Mingi?"

Mingi rolled his eyes but left anyway along with our order. I frowned when Jongho reached out for my hand across the table. "Did you really have to be like that to him?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "But I wanted to anyway."

"Choi Jongho!" I was slightly appalled. All Jongho did was stare blankly at me. Without breaking eye contact, he sensually kissed my palm. I reddened automatically.

"L/N Y/N," he teased playfully, taking great pleasure at my shyness.

"Come on, can't you be serious for once?" I pouted.

"I am being serious," he laughed, his beautiful smile filling in his precious face.

I stared at him, unimpressed. "Are you jealous of my closeness to Mingi?"

"Yes," he immediately answered. "A thousand percent."

My eyes widened in mild surprise. Something that never, ever changed in him was his jealousy. I wasn't expecting him to actually admit to it straight up because back then, he always denied being jealous.

"My baby bear, you know there's no point in feeling this way," I sighed, wrapping my hand in his. "You're the only one for me."

"It better stay that way," he smirked. He sat straighter to look at me, but then his smile dropped off a bit.

I didn't think of it at first, but then I gasped when his hold on my hand became tighter. I bit my lip, slightly ashamed that I was getting turned on by his light aggression. I waited for him to say something, but he stayed still in his seat.

I thought he was messing with me. I mean, the way he was staring at me could have melted me faster than the sun. It was intense, and if I'm being honest, it instilled fear in me.

"Jongho?" I called out softly when I realized that he wasn't going to say something. His eyes narrow down into dangerous slits. "You're scaring me..."

His grip on my hand tightens with a force. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough for me to worry. My eyes widened at the gesture, and when I took a closer look at him, I realized that he wasn't directing his stare at me, but behind me.

Had he seen something, or worse, someone that made him so tense? I was genuinely concerned now, Jongho only acted like this whenever I tried to pry about his departure five years ago. I straightened up, maybe this was related to it?

"Do you trust me?" Jongho stopped me from looking behind me. I nodded, albeit hesitantly. His next words made me freeze.

"Then whatever happens, do not turn around. Act normal."

I tried my best to mask the fear that was overriding my body right now; the panic that scattered my brain. The hairs at the back of my neck suddenly rose, and I couldn't help but feel that someone was watching us from behind me. Or was that the paranoia talking?

Jongho suddenly motioned for me. "Pretend that you're going to give me a kiss," he ordered. When he saw my rigidness, his glare softened. "Please do as I say," he whispered, desperation evident in his voice.

"Jongho, what's going on?" My voice was shaky.

"I have no fucking time for this," he hissed, eyes widening in surging panic. "You either do it now, or we both die."

My breathing was erratic and the thumping of my heart was escalating. All the while, I thought that whatever Jongho was hiding from me was never going to hunt us down, or at least, not for a while. Suddenly, Hongjoong and Jongho's conversation floated in my head.

"You know they're just going to find you, correct?"

"Of course, I do. You play me for a fool."

"That's all I know. I won't tell anyone you're here, but if I were you, I would do something about it."

I thought wrong. With a deep breath, I stood up and leaned my head towards Jongho, as if I really was just going for an innocent kiss.

"Stay still," he whispered when I got close enough. My breath hitched when Jongho drew his gun and it dawned on me that he basically used me as a shield so whoever was watching couldn't see.

"Remember what I told you that night?" Jongho asked when I sat back down. I gulped and nodded, my eyes still staring at the concealed weapon that he hid in his inner pocket. "Answer me."

"Yes, I-I remember," I stammered, rubbing my hands together to stop them from shaking so much. "I'm scared..."

He told me he will always love me no matter what happened, how could I forget? His eyes softened. "On the count of three," he began. "Get up, run, and never look back."

My heart exploded then and there. "What? No!" I winced when he attempted to shush me. "I am not leaving you, Jongho, please!"

Jongho's brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but he froze when he realized that Mingi was approaching us with our ordered food. He cursed under his breath and tried to signal Mingi to stop walking.

Mingi, though visibly confused, does stop walking. But it was a mistake on Jongho's end, because whoever was watching had caught on.

"Get down, get down!" Jongho yelled when the first shot rang from a distance. My gasp was cut off from Jongho grabbing my arm painfully and dragging me down with him under the table.

Screams erupted from all over as the other patrons who came to eat had panicked all around us. Mingi dropped the food, startled, and immediately came running to me. "You both okay?" he asked when he ducked down along with us.

His eyes widened when he saw Jongho holding a pistol and then narrowed into slits. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" Mingi growled in annoyance.

"No time to explain," Jongho looked left and right, up and down, to check for more gunmen. He turned to Mingi hurriedly. "This table," he tapped it with his gun. "Let's use this as a barricade."

Both of them wasted no time quickly grabbing the heavy wooden table we were supposed to eat on and pushing it down. I tried to help by kicking the chairs away from us. I got startled onto ducking back down when more shots were fired in the air.

"Fucking hell," Jongho cursed out loud, jutting the arm that held the gun and aimed at that distance with precision. Mingi and I looked at each with worry and we both turned our eyes on Jongho's murderous form.

"Where's the quickest exit?" Jongho recoiled his pistol and bullet shells fell on the ground. Shivers travelled through my spine at how experienced Jongho seemed at doing gunfights.

Mingi pointed quickly to a door that was near us. Jongho cursed loudly, it wasn't difficult to go to the door, but we would be exposed to the dangers of getting shot.

I flinched when another shot rang into the air and then screamed when a bullet landed inches away from where we were.

"On my count, both of you will run as fast as you both can to the door. I'll follow after," Jongho ordered both of us. But Mingi wasn't having it.

"Are you kidding me?" he gritted his teeth. "Whoever's out there will shoot us down!"

"And you'd rather we get shot here?" Jongho retorted back, rage etched on his face. It made him look terrifying, like I didn't know him to begin with.

Mingi raised his arm to try and push some sense into Jongho, but the latter put his gun up and pointed the barrel directly in between the former's brows. Mingi froze in his place. "I need her out of here," Jongho took one good look at me before glaring again at Mingi. "I won't hesitate to shoot you if it means getting your ass up to move."

"Fuck you," Mingi spat venomously at him.

Jongho pulled the safety lever and positioned his finger in the trigger and Mingi visibly flinched. My jaw dropped and I called out for him to stop, but he ignored me. "I'm not playing with you, Song Mingi," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Do it."

"Just calm down, okay?" Mingi nervously laughed. Jongho cocks his head in my direction and Mingi gets moving. I was terrified - I could tell Jongho wasn't joking; he will shoot Mingi.

He positioned me in front of him and lowered my head down so my whole body was completely hidden. "Ready?" Mingi asked me softly.

Tears started to blur my vision. Tonight was supposed to be a good time, but alas, nothing really lasts forever - even guilty pleasures.

Jongho started the countdown, and the moment he said three, me and Mingi started running as fast as we could.

I yelped when I heard Jongho fire another shot in the air. I made the mistake of looking back and I almost stuttered in my steps when I saw two masked men running faster and faster in our directions while their big rifles were pointed at us.

My stomach started to churn along with the burn of my running legs - people want Jongho dead. And Jongho want these people dead. A question kept lingering in my mind, how many has he killed? How long has he been doing this?

"Hurry!" Mingi's deep, booming voice screamed for Jongho, his arms motioning for Jongho to move faster when the both of us went through the exit door.

Jongho moved with deadly purpose. Little by little, my heart shattered as I watched him shoot two shots and hit someone square in the chest with his bullets. Mingi's hold on the door loosened as he watched the bloodbath along with me.

He was so close to the door too, all he had to do was sprint and Mingi would be able to close the door so the people firing at us wouldn't be able to enter the parking lot.

I slowly realized that the man I loved was killing people left and right like it was nothing to him. It made me sick to my stomach, but what got me was the fact that my love for him never lessened even one bit. Even if he killed twice the amount, I'd still love him. It was sickening.

"Close the fucking door and go!" Jongho screamed at us as he unloaded more bullets at anyone he saw fit to shoot. He made eye contact with me, and for a split second, there was a flash of pain, but it was gone before he could shoot one more time.

"I hate you, Jongho, but I don't want you to die," Mingi snapped. "So get in here before I actually close this door on you!

It all happened in a matter of seconds. It seemed to snap Jongho into moving towards us, and so he started to run. The moment his foot stepped past the door, Mingi shut the door firmly and the three of us started running.

"You okay, love?" Jongho quickly grabbed me and kissed my head as we sprinted towards no direction in mind.

I nodded, the fear clear as day in my eyes. It hurt to see Jongho's resignation as he put the gun away back in his holster, something I didn't even notice when we left the house.

"We can't use my car," Jongho sighed loudly in irritation. "They know what it looks like."

"Let's use mine then," Mingi began to run in the opposite direction of where we started from and Jongho and I had no choice but to follow him.

The aftermath was anticlimactic. Jongho directed Mingi to drive around in circles so we wouldn't have a tail, but we quickly went right back in track when we realized that we weren't even followed out. They both argued about what had just happened and in normal circumstances, I would have been happy about it. They were both like this even back in high school.

When Mingi dropped both of us at my house, I opted to enter first because those two were still fighting and I could hear them from the inside. I had no choice but to just watch from the window.

"You son of a bitch, what kind of trouble did you bring back to town?" Mingi shouted aggressively.

"Watch your fucking mouth," I heard Jongho hiss.

"Or what?" Mingi taunted, using one hand to viciously push Jongho around. "You're gonna shoot me?"

Jongho hissed in pain, clutching his arm where he had been pushed. Mingi gasped out so loud, it caught me off guard. His whole hand was red and covered in blood.

"Jongho?" Mingi worriedly went to him and quickly grabbed his arm. "You're bleeding---"

My world shattered right then and there and I blanked out as I hurriedly ran towards Jongho and stared at his bleeding arm. "Y-You were shot?" I squeaked in fear when I realized that his whole jacket was soaked wet with blood.

"Get out of here, Mingi," Jongho groaned in pain, making both me and the taller man panic. "In case they find us here, I can only protect one of you..."

Mingi hesitated, regret filling his entire face, but he knew Jongho was right. After quickly saying goodbye and informing us that he'll stay with Wooyoung for now, he drove off away from the house and hopefully away from trouble.

"Don't cry, my pretty love," Jongho chuckled when we finally relaxed and sat on the couch. "It was a graze, nothing to worry about..."

"Nothing to worry about?" Angry tears started to fall from my eyes. "Jongho, you scared the living hell out of me!"

Now that all of the adrenaline has worn off, my chest exploded and tears just started flowing out of me. I didn't want to cry, I wasn't the type to cry at anything in general, but I couldn't stop the overwhelming emotions that overtook all my senses.

"Nothing to be scared of, see?" Jongho tried to cheer me up when he took his jacket off and showed me that indeed, it was just a graze, but it didn't stop me from paling at the sight of his wound.

I blinked the remaining tears away, though at this point I wasn't sure where it was coming from - anxiety, exhaustion, or paranoia. It could be anything. I quickly got to work on the first aid kit and started patching him up.

"Are you ever going to tell me?" I sniffled as I wrapped the gauze all over his bulky arms. "That was an experience, Jongho, don't you think I deserve to know?"

Jongho flexed his arms before he lifted me up and sat me on his lap. He buried his head on my shoulders. "I'm sorry," his muffled voice said. "But I can't."

I sighed deeply, not at all surprised at his response. What he failed to understand was that I don't care about what he did, I just wanted to know if it was going to happen again. "You know I'm willing to endure everything for you?"

Jongho froze. He slowly lifted his head up to meet my eyes. There was an expression I thought I'd never, ever see in those beautiful eyes - fear.

His brows raised at the statement though, eyes roaming all over my face to search for any lies. "Yeah?"

I nodded, leaning down to give his lips a quick peck. "I mean it, Jongho. You could destroy this entire planet and I'd still stick by you."

His grip on my waist tightened and I thought it was because he was grateful for my words, but when Jongho's eyes hardened to a steely resolve, I started to panic. He was staring at me with this deep, unsettling eyes that I couldn't tell if it was awe, sadness, or anger.

"D-Did I say anything wrong?"

"No," he shook his head, his knuckles softly grazing my cheeks. "I just never realized how far I'd go to keep you safe."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Come on," I urged him to get up. "Let's go rest. It's been a long night."

Sleeping would prove to be difficult tonight. I had a lot of things to think about, but so did Jongho. The only difference was he had a lot of things that kept him awake at night and he was currently the reason why I couldn't sleep tonight.

"Y/N?" Jongho called out of the blue as we both laid down in the darkness. I hummed a response. "If I hadn't knocked on your door a couple of months ago, would you have already moved on from me by now?"

His question caught me completely off guard. "Probably not," I answered him truthfully. "You?"

"Ten years would have passed and I'd still love you the same, if not more," he whispered. "Have you ever hated me?"

"Absolutely," I replied without missing a beat. "I went mad being in love with you. I lost myself loving you and to this day, there are still parts of me I can never get back again."

Jongho heaved a weighted sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You did what you felt was right, and I was well within my rights to bear whatever made me feel right."

"Right. Why didn't you give out your heart again?"

I couldn't help but chuckle without humour. "It's not that. I don't want to trust my heart to anyone. Why are you asking these anyway?"

"No reason," Jongho yawned. "I was just curious."

I didn't reply. I had a terrible feeling that sank in my stomach, but I decided to ignore it for now. Maybe it was just the adrenaline rush of it all, being in a near death situation puts your mind in dangerous places.

Moments later, Jongho’s breathing evened out and that’s how I knew he was already sleeping. I watched him sleep for a little, he looked so peaceful, as if he wasn’t the man who used a gun so flawlessly, you’d think he was in an action movie of some sorts. He was a ghost of the man I used to know.

It was the worst sleep of my life. It wasn’t even this bad when I was heartbroken when he left. All the events of what happened tonight kept replaying in my head and I kept waking up in a cold sweat. I would go back to sleep and then wake up again. It was such a vicious cycle.

“Is everything okay, blossom?” Jongho asked me the next day when he noticed me spacing out in our living room.

"Huh? Oh, yes. Everything's okay," I lied through my teeth.

I couldn't possibly tell him that I was apprehensive about something that I couldn't put my finger on. There was this feeling in my gut, and there was another in my heart and they were both so contradictory that I didn't know which one to believe in right now.

My gut said that something was wrong, but my heart was telling me to trust Jongho a little more this time.

"Are you sure?" Jongho hugged me from behind and kissed my shoulders. He pointed at the purse I was holding. "Going out?"

"The grocery store. I want to make dinner for you since we couldn't enjoy last night," I turned around and looped my arms around his neck and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. "Happy Birthday, my love."

He smirked. "You remembered?"

"Of course I did. I celebrated it every year even after you left," I admitted, shame suddenly creeping up on me.

His eyes softened and he grabbed my face and gave it little peppered kisses. "I love you," he whispered. "More than you will ever understand."

He pulled me into a hug. It was the tightest hug I've ever received from him. "For as long as we both exist in this life, I am all yours," he breathed me in. "I will always go to you. If I can't walk, I will crawl. If they take my sight, I'd give up my eyes to see you one more time. No matter how broken I am, I will never stop fighting for you..."

He kissed my forehead tenderly. "You're my everything."

Tears began to prick at the back of my eyes. "Is everything okay?" I frowned. "You're freaking me out."

"No. Just wanted to let you know how I felt for you," he chuckled. He urged me to the door. "Run along to the groceries, love. Wouldn't want to miss that dinner for anything else."

I shrugged and went out the door to hurry up and get going, but not before looking back, only to see Jongho already staring at me. For a moment, we just stared at each other. Something wasn't sitting right with +me.

He mouthed for me to go with a small smile and an even smaller wave of his hand. The further I walked away, it was as if Jongho's was also slowly slipping away from me.

I couldn't concentrate on shopping. The goal was to get some stuff for Jongho's birthday, yet every time I stopped in an aisle, I would pause and space out, only for me to forget what I was in there for. The process would repeat and I was losing my mind.

On the other hand, his declaration of love for me made my heart extremely warm. He wasn't one to confess his feelings like that, and so was I. I was so lost inside my head, when I looked down on my cart, there was barely enough stuff in it.

I spaced out so bad that I didn't notice that I bumped onto someone. "I'm sor---Sannie?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for a while now," San frowned. I remembered that he had a shift today. "Are you okay? You look ill."

"I-I don't know," I admitted. "I don't feel so good."

San held my arm and I leaned onto him for support. "Want me to call Wooyoung to take you home?" San offered. "Where's Jongho?"

Something clicked in me at the mention of Jongho's name. I began to pull away from San. "I-I need to go," I murmured before making a run towards the door, not caring if San screamed for my name or the other shoppers looking at me like I just lost my mind.

I ran like hell, tears starting to form in my eyes. That confession meant something. I could hardly breathe, my chest filling with that dread I felt five years ago as my legs started to carry me back to my house. I didn't even realize that I was already crying, salty tears trailed to my mouth as I ran even faster.

I had to pause in my driveway to catch my breath. What would have taken me fifteen minutes of leisure running from the store back here only took me seven minutes in my panic. As I approached the front door, I felt lightheaded from the lack of air in my lungs, my hands were shaking terribly as I pushed the door open.

"Jongho?" I called out. My vision was still blurry with tears, but I was sure Jongho wasn't in my line of sight? "Jongho?!"

The house felt eerie. Not even an hour ago, Jongho and I were here just confessing our love to one another. "Jongho!" I called out louder, kicking the door down to his room in my desperation.

There was no answer, and there was no Jongho.

"Jongho, please," I was sobbing now. "This isn't funny, Jongho!"

I looked all over the house, even though at the back of my head, I knew my love wasn't here anymore. I went back to his room, horrified to find that his clothes were all gone. "J-Jongho," my voice rasped as I ran through every corner of my house, hoping that all of this was a sick joke.

I broke down, my legs wobbling until I crumpled on the floor, and I cried my eyes out. Jongho was gone, and this time, I knew for a fact that he wasn't coming back.

A part of me was hoping that he would come back after a day or two, after all, he did come back to me after five years. But I knew better - that declaration earlier sounded final. I couldn't stop picturing his face when he told me he loved me, I couldn't stop hearing his voice, and that just made me cry even harder than before.

Deep, gut-wrenching sobs and wails slipped past my lips and I buried my face in my hands in a sorry attempt to conceal the harsh sounds of my cries, but it was useless. My heart was so broken, there was a gaping hole in my chest where it used to be.

The force of my own sobs were straining my head and neck, but I couldn't seem to stop. I knew this day would come eventually, that Jongho would one day leave, but I thought we had it so good that he's changed his mind.

And I knew he changed his mind. He wasn't going to leave me anymore. So where was he?

I heard the front door creak open and the gasp that followed at my devastated, crumpled form on the floor. I felt someone kneel next to me, their own sobs filling the room as they tried to help me sit up. At first, my heart had hope, but from the touch, I could instantly tell who it was, and it wasn't Jongho.

"Babe, what's going on?" Wooyoung's panicked voice asked me hurriedly. He was openly sobbing with me. "San called me in hysteria earlier. Come here, oh my God..."

He quickly pulled me into his arms and I fell onto him instantly, burying my face in his chest and clutching shirt as I bawled helplessly. Wooyoung's body was shaking against mine as I felt his own tears fall on my hair. I have never, ever cried like this in front of anyone, and I can tell it was stressing Wooyoung out.

"Just let it out, shh," he hushed me, rocking back and forth to help soothe me, but the only person who could successfully soothe me had left.

"W-Woo," I mewled. "J-Jongho..."

"Did he hurt you?" Wooyoung instantly snarled, ready to beat up the man that wasn't even here anymore.

"Here," I weakly pointed at the center of my chest. "My h-heart..."

I told him everything. From Hongjoong visiting Jongho randomly one night, the gunfight with Mingi - to which his eyes widened and he exclaimed that Mingi never told him, but he could tell the taller was anxious - all the way from today where San saw me spacing out.

"I am so, so sorry. Are you okay?" Wooyoung asked tentatively, worry in his eyes as he helped me to my room. I almost lost control of my emotions then and there.

"Sorry, Wooyoung. You guys are always there to catch me when I'm feeling down," I hiccupped as he wrapped a blanket all over my body to comfort me.

He kneeled in front of me and shook his head. "You're our best friend," he assured. "We're worried about you," he patted my thighs twice. "Let me just call San to tell him you're fine now, okay?"

I wanted to hate Jongho. All this sadness was turning into anger because it was easier to be mad at him than deal with all the grief and loss he bestowed on me. But I couldn't. I had fallen for him twice and it was difficult to ignore the loneliness that was creeping in my heart.

"Yeah, she's good," I heard Wooyoung from outside my door. "I'm more shaken up, you should've seen her, Sannie. She was so broken..."

I could hear San's worried voice from Wooyoung's phone as the former paced all over my house. Tears began to form in my eyes again, but I tried to stop them. I didn't want to worry anyone anymore.

"He left, yes, he did," Wooyoung gritted. "I knew that asshole was trouble, goddamn it, he should've just stayed where he was at---wait."

I frowned at Wooyoung's sudden pause. He began whispering onto the phone and I had to strain my ears to listen to what he was saying.

"...by the kitchen..." Wooyoung's voice trailed off.

I heard his footsteps get faster and faster and I realized that he was running. I was so confused, especially when I saw him approach me with a letter in his hand.

"I found this," he handed me the letter, not bearing to look me in the eye. "I think...I'll step out of the house for a bit while you read it."

I eyed the small piece of paper in my hand, not knowing what to do with it exactly. I know it's bad when Wooyoung has to step out. He had the most forlorn, lost, and broken look in his face and it made me so nervous. I wasn't stupid, I know Jongho left me another letter.

I slowly unfolded the paper, and I was correct. Jongho had this distinct penmanship - it was cursive, it was beautiful, and it was his. Tears flowed from my eyes and dripped onto the paper as I read, my hands shaking as I tried not to crumple the paper with how emotional I was being.

You will heal and you will learn how to live without me. Until then, I’m going to set things straight on my end and I will find you when time permits. My soul will find yours again.

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

The pain got worse as time went on. I had no idea how much time had passed, but I assumed it'd been a while.

I had no desire to do anything. My laundry was piled in one messy basket, my garden plants were all dead, any form of self care besides showering and brushing my teeth was beyond me. It wasn't a way to live, I was a shell of my former self.

Sleep wasn't better either. I hardly got enough hours every night. But by far the worst was my solitude. Being alone in my thoughts was such a dangerous thing.

There were multiple times where I wanted to end everything, but the fact that I wouldn't remember Jongho anymore stopped me. It was such a vicious cycle in my own head and I just want them to stop.

San would always get me my groceries for Wooyoung to cook and Mingi would always force me to eat something. The food was delicious, it was my stomach that was rejecting it because it would churn the moment anything went into it.

I was always worried for them because sometimes I'd hear one of them get emotional at my depressed state, so I knew I had to conquer my demons if I was to not make my friends worry, but how I was supposed to do that? I couldn't even go into Jongho's room without bawling my eyes out.

I wore a hoodie that Jongho left behind and laid myself down on his bed, something I've been doing to cope for the last couple of months. Tears automatically sprung in my eyes. Everything was always so warm in his clothes and on his bed, just like him.

What was worse was that I could still smell him like he was still here. It felt like a blow to my chest. His scent was so strong that I could have sworn he was still here. How long would it take for his presence to completely disappear? How long would it be until this room is nothing but a space full of unwanted memories?

A tear finally slipped down my cheeks. Jongho and I were talking a lot about our future and he always looked so alive whenever we did. I knew he was truly happy. Sometimes, I'd think I was dreaming because I still didn't want to let him go. We were through before we had truly begun.

Jongho told me that I had to live without him. How was I supposed to do that? This darkness always threatened to swallow me whole.

And so I cried. I cried for the love me and Jongho had always meant to have, but never will. I cried for Jongho and the path he took that overtook him. I cried for myself, most of all, because I knew that I was never going to be the same ever again.

As I was about to relapse into another mental breakdown, a loud knocking from my door interrupted me. I quickly wiped all of my tears away and hoped that my face wasn't swollen enough for Wooyoung to berate me, then cry with me.

"I'm coming," I grumbled loudly when more knocking ensued.

It was probably Mingi. I had a doorbell and he knew it, but he always thought of the stupidest things to try and get me up so I couldn't lay down in bed all day. It worked, but sometimes, it pissed me off to no end.

Imagine my surprise when I opened the door and saw that it was not, in fact, Mingi.

"L/N Y/N?" the random stranger asked. I nodded slowly, a little too depressed to even care and ask how this man knew my name and my address.

He wasn't a bad looking man, rather, he looked quite pleasant. He had the most intimidating persona I have ever seen, the aura and energy he gave out made me shrink from where I was standing. He wore this tight fitting business suit that reminded me of CEOs rather than businessmen.

"C-Can I help you, Sir?"

"It's more like me helping you instead of the other way around," the man gave me a wolfish grin. "We should talk inside."

I frowned, gripping the doorknob tightly and ready to slam it if this man tried something sketchy. Despite the haze of sadness, I was sentient enough to not let in random people, especially as arrogant as this one.

"You're going to want to hear me out," he tried to bargain. "It's about Jongho."

My expression must have been so crestfallen that the smirk that threatened to come out of him slowly disappeared the closer he stared at me. Despite myself, my bottom lip wobbled and I bit on it to stop it from doing it, but to no avail.

"Oh, Lord have mercy, he ruined you," the man sighed. "I give you my word that I am not going to hurt you in any sort of way, so please, let's talk inside."

I had nothing to lose because I had nothing to live for now, so I just let him in anyway. I was semi happy that he had the decency to remove his shoes and sat on my couch after I had sat on it. It was a basic form of respect.

"My name is Park Seonghwa and Jongho works under my department," the man started. "And I owe you an explanation."

I blinked at him multiple times. I don't know what I was expecting, and to be honest, I had no expectations, but I certainly was not expecting that.

"E-Excuse me?" I sputtered out. "Department?"

"Where's your television remote?" Seonghwa asked. I blankly pointed it at him and he clicked my TV open. "There's something I have to show you..."

He kept flipping through different channels until he found the one he was looking for. I was extremely confused, but I decided not to question it and just see what he wanted to show me. Something tells me that I wasn't going to like what I'm about to see.

It was some sort of press conference and it was live. There were reporters going absolutely crazy over a couple of people and guards trying to stop them from forming a horde. It was a hot mess. I side eyed Seonghwa and he was just staring blankly at the television, like he was already expecting things to happen.

Suddenly, the camera panned to a stage where a couple of people who wore suits and some people with handcuffs were getting swarmed by the crowd.

I knew what this was. It was the controversial fight between the Korean Force and the rising mafia family that orchestrated bank heists all over the city and a select few towns like where I was - like that bank Jongho used to work at.

At first I was still confused, that is, until I saw a familiar figure standing in the back. He was wearing a mask, but I knew it was him. My hands flew to my mouth before my eyes widened and more tears formed.

"I am Second Director Kang Yeosang, in charge of the capture of the most notorious group that has been running rampant in our city," a man spoke from the television.

"What is the meaning of this?" I gasped at Seonghwa. He didn't say anything and pointed at the television again.

"The credit goes to all our wonderful Agents who aided in their capture," the man gestured to where Jongho was. He looked so stiff, so rigid, but I knew he was the man I loved - the man who hurt me deeply.

The TV was suddenly turned off, but honestly, I couldn't bear to look at it for another second longer anyway, else I might break down completely, and I did not want to do that with a random stranger in my house.

“Do you have any idea as to why Jongho had to leave you all of a sudden five years ago?” Seonghwa asked me, his eyes showing genuine curiosity.

I gulped nervously. “Hell, if I knew,” I scoffed. Then, I realized something that made my heart drop. “Are you telling me that he left me for the mafia, or something?”

Seonghwa smirked. “Not quite. I would say he joined the group that stopped the mafia.”

No amount of self-control could have stopped me from the sheer surprise that crossed my face. “Impossible,” I shook my head in denial. “Jongho would never put himself in a position that purposely put his life in danger, let alone do something like that...”

“Are you sure about that?” Seonghwa crossed his arms. “I could tell you what happened, but do you want to hear it?”

No. Accepting what Seonghwa was saying means that I have to face the reality that Jongho really did choose to go his way and make his future without me, but not accepting it amps my fear for the truth. I nodded in resignation and Seonghwa began to talk.

“First of all, I would like you to know that Jongho joined us by method of force,” he said. “In fact, he wanted out so badly that he threatened us that he’ll bite his tongue. Literally.”

My heart dropped at the newly found information and my hands were already shaking, but I let him continue. “It was supposed to be a successful operation, we were tracking a series of money laundering crimes and we chose the bank that Jongho worked at as the place for our sting operation.”

“Long story short,” he continued. “Jongho saw something he wasn't supposed to. Did you know what his position was at the bank?”

“A t-teller,” I replied, my voice also shaking. I wanted to cry, Jongho had been carrying that burden all by himself.

“Right. Unfortunately, Jongho found out that we were having an operation that day. He suspected that something was wrong with the enemy’s bank information, so he started snooping and saw every illegal money deposit in it. We couldn't have that, it was either we killed him or he joined us.”

“What?” I couldn’t help but hiss at him. “It wasn’t his fault,” I snapped. “Your failure on your operation does not constitute an emergency on his part!”

All Seonghwa did was smirk at me and it pissed me off. I glared at him, but he just shrugged. “I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he stated. “In fact, I agree with you. I never wanted him, Jongho was just a boy.”

My face fell as I limply fell back on my seat, defeated and in disbelief. “I’m a failure,” I sarcastically laughed. “All this time I thought he left me because he didn’t want me as his partner anymore.”

“Not your fault,” Seonghwa sighed. “We were the ones who told him he had to leave you. It was either he told you, but then he’d have to take you, or keep you in the dark but you’ll be safe. Obviously, Jongho chose to keep you safe.”

I couldn’t stop all the tears that suddenly started to flow. It was both out of sadness and relief. After five long years, I now had the answers I’ve always wanted to desperately know.

But was it worth it?

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you any of this. My superiors don’t know I’m here,” Seonghwa said after he had waited for me to calm down and compose myself. I’ll give him that, I appreciated it. “Jongho loved you so, so much.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue. “Our training was in the United States, Lord knows how many times he got punished for trying to escape and come back here in Korea,” he chuckled. “You know, I grew to care for that kid. I owe this to him after years and years of denying him any contact with you.”

Jongho wanted to contact me all these years? I had to bite my thumb to stop myself from shedding more tears, but Seonghwa grabbed my sleeves to stop me from hurting myself further.

“That capture on the television, that was his doing. What would have usually taken ten years of a normal agent, Jongho cut in half all because he wanted to see you again.”

“Hongjoong told me you saw them talking that night?” Seonghwa asked. I nodded in conformation. “He didn’t mean any harm. Jongho wasn’t supposed to be here, let alone disappear for a couple of months. We covered for him, but it was only a matter of time until our higher ups found out.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. All these years I was wallowing myself in pity and Jongho had been suffering overseas because of something that wasn’t even his fault. All this time, this was what Jongho had been hiding.

”What was he doing here in the first place then?”

“He wanted to see you one more time before he went into hiding so we could erase all his ties to the CIA, so I allowed him. Imagine my surprise when he didn’t come back anymore. Hongjoong had barely found this place.”

I remember that day like it just happened. I will never forget the day I started being alive again when he showed up at my door. The storm had been an excuse after all, and that bridge falling over wasn’t part of his plans. It was no wonder he was extremely angry when it broke.

”And the shooting a couple of months back?” I asked. I didn’t even need to elaborate, his face already showed that he knew what I was talking about.

He shook his head. “That was the mafia set to eliminate Jongho.”

My blood ran cold. That meant that we were that close to actually losing our lives. My face fell, that almost meant that Jongho left me for the second time for the same reason he had the first time - to protect me.

Seonghwa patted my shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” he spoke silently. “It’s almost over, he’ll be back.”

I froze, craning my head in his direction, my breath hard and laboured. “Y-You mean that?”

He nodded. “You have my word. And I’ve never gone back on my word before.”

Hours after Seonghwa had said his goodbye and left, I still stayed unmoved from my spot, unwilling to get up just yet for fear that everything I just found out, I’d suddenly forget. I stared at the card that he had left on the table that contained his contact number, not knowing what to do with it exactly.

One good thing that came out of there was that the heavy weight that loomed over my shoulders was suddenly lifted and the relief it brought had made it easier for me to finally breathe.

I have everything I would wish for right now. All these years, I thought I was looking for happiness or the will to move on, but all this time, relief has always been the one I was after - it was what finally set me free.

I closed my eyes, I can almost picture Jongho’s smile when he looked at me for the last time before he went his way.

Life was so cruel, wasn't it? Fate had allowed me and Jongho to meet and fall in love again and gave me a taste of what it would have been like had he not left, only for the same fate to yank it all away.

What’s worse was that I would do it all over again, even when I knew that our love would end as a tragedy. I would give everything just to feel his warmth, even if it’s only a second. I would endure anything.

Suddenly, Jongho’s absence didn’t feel so heavy after all. For the first time in a while, there was a small smile on my face.

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

The arches of my brows creased as I glanced up to the bright, blue sky. The tip of my nose was red, but it was okay.

My hands can't seem to feel themselves as I walk out. It wasn't even that bad, I thought, before I left my rented studio apartment without bringing my trusty wool coat. By the time I realized that the wind had picked up, it was already too late to turn back and grab it.

I can almost taste the bitter cold hitting my skin, but I was happy anyway. Autumn was my favourite season, I love the colours and the cozy pumpkin spice flavoured things, and most of all, it was also Jongho’s favourite season.

It’s been three years since that fateful day. I slowly got over the pain, but I never forgot what it felt like. I still had that note he gave me, I could never throw it away even if I wanted to.

I couldn't forget him, if I tried.

I did, however, decide to move away from South Korea all the way to the other side of the world in France. I couldn't bear to stay in the house where all the four corners had Jongho in it, so I decided to sell it. I made the impulse to apply for corporate work, courtesy of Choi San, and so far, Marseille has been nice to me.

And speaking of San, he took that giant leap and found love. The only thing surprising about it was that it was in Song Mingi. It wasn't because of anything bad, it was because I never even noticed the tension between them. I may or may not have cried at their obvious happiness.

Wooyoung was the only one who came with me to my journey in another country. For a while, we both lived together in my apartment here, but he got addicted to the feeling of traveling and now, he's been painting the town red somewhere in Italy.

I've never seen or heard from Jongho ever again. He hasn't contacted me whatsoever. The constant visits from Seonghwa doesn't really count, though I have grown a somewhat decent relationship with him and found out he was actually a nice man.

He hasn't found me and to be quite honest, I quit searching for him after a while. It was eating away at my life and it wasn't a healthy way for me to cope at his loss. I just hope he found somewhere safe to settle where the mafia couldn't reach or hurt him.

"Ticket for one?" the attendant from the museum entrance kindly asked me.

"Yes, please. Thank you," I smiled back. Today, I decided to treat myself to a day off by going to this local museum I've been eyeing for a while.

"Do you wish to get upgraded for the fair in the back?" they asked me after handing in my ticket.

I tilted my head in confusion. "Fair?"

"Ah, there is a local fair that comes here every year. The museum decided to collaborate this year to garner more people to come."

It was an easy yes for me. I haven't been to fairs in a while and I remembered loving them as a kid. It almost denied it though, all my memories of me going to one had all been with Jongho. He loved Ferris Wheels the most.

As I admired the museum collection, I couldn't help but rejoice because of how much I've grown into myself. Moving was definitely difficult at first, but I've managed to wiggle my way to success, or at least, my definition of success. Slowly, I began to put Jongho at the back of my mind.

I suddenly remembered what Jongho said to me three years ago about his fear.

That I'll only remember your face, but not your name. That I'd forget you, but not the time we spent.

I chuckled. What a terrible lie that had been on his end. There was no way I was forgetting him in any way, shape, or form.

There wasn't much in the museum, it was quite small, so I went straight to the fair and I was pleasantly surprised because it resembled a carnival more than anything. There was the usual fair food and the carnival-esque rides, like roller coasters and adult carousels.

But most of all, the biggest Ferris Wheels I have ever seen in my life was right here. I smiled, I will definitely have to come back to that.

It was great, as expected for fairs. The food was absolutely fantastic, and I have a thing for their huge cotton candies. I knew then and there that I made the correct decision to go here for my day off.

"Excuse me? Is this seat taken?"

I was so lost in my thoughts that I was a bit startled when a masculine voice sounded to my side. I turned my head and I swear my heart dropped to my foot instantly.

"N-No," I stammered, redness spreading all over my face. "Y-You can t-take it if you want."

The man smirked and took the seat anyway. I didn't say a word - I couldn't - but neither did he. Rather, we basked in the sun that was shining directly to where we were both seated even though it was cold.

He was absolutely gorgeous. I have never, ever seen a man so stunning that it rendered me speechless for a bit. His brown cashmere coat perfectly complemented his physique. His cropped out hair fitted him well, and the way he carried himself was what was interesting to me.

His eyes were something else. There was a swirling mixture of amber as the tiniest bit of sun hit him made it very mesmerizing to stare at.

And those same pair of eyes were now staring at my very own.

I was shocked. I felt the shame slowly creep in and my face turn the reddest it has ever been in my life. I looked away clearly flustered and looked down on the forgotten sweetness of the cotton candy I hadn't touched again since this man sat down next to me.

Darn it, darn him for giving me the subtlest smirk as I looked away. From my peripheral vision, I can see him still looking at me, unblinking. I got so conscious that I didn't realize that I was holding my breath steadily.

I definitely looked like I was creeping on him. I almost hit myself in frustration. This is what happens when you're touch starved from a man for so long. I should have smiled back at him, I mean I still could given the fact that I can feel the hairs on my arms stand up in attention to his still unrelenting stare at me.

"How are you liking the carnival?" he had asked.

His voice was calming and it had automatically brought a sense of peace in me. I almost chastised myself, there was no need to be on edge. After all, I was here to relax, not to be awkward with the people I encounter.

"It's good," I shrugged. "I kind of wish it wasn't as cold as it was today. You? What brings you here?"

It was his turn to shrug. "Just to relax. I need to unwind after my work and all. It's stressful, you know?"

I nodded, surprising the need to smile. "Oh? What do you do?"

He chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets, his form also visibly relaxing. "Nothing interesting. There's just a lot of paperwork involved in it, that's all."

"I see," I murmured, trying to avoid eye contact all over.

I'm not sure when the tension started. Perhaps it was a subliminal thing. Or maybe, it was the physical proximity. Despite the cold weather, I could feel the smoldering heat from where he sat. He's been pretty respectful of the distance though, aside from the occasional stare he would point at me, but so far, I don't mind it.

"You don't look like you're from here," I pointed out, trying to start up a conversation. "What brings you to France?"

He hummed before responding. "I'm trying to find my purpose. I lost it a couple of years ago and now I'm intent on getting that back in my life," the man gazed at me meaningfully. "Sometimes you don't know what you have before it's all gone."

I gave him a tight smile. "And this," I waved my hand around. "Purpose, so to speak, how important is it to you?"

"Everything," he replied so fast it actually scared me a bit. He was looking at me dead in the eye too. "It means everything to me. I...made a lot of mistakes in my past, but now I'm here to make up for all of those."

I stared at him for a couple of minutes and he held eye contact with me, unblinking and unmoving. Was this my sign to move on from the past?

"Well, I wish you all the luck," I told him sincerely. "I suppose I can relate. I put my life on halt a couple of years ago, myself. My purpose had left me."

The man frowned and then sighed wistfully. "And how did that make you feel?"

It was a question I wasn't expecting. Suddenly, it was just the two of us, the carnival fading onto the background. "I was devastated," I admitted truthfully. "But not anymore. I know my purpose will always find me wherever I go."

There was a pleasant surprise on the man's face before he broke out into the most painfully beautiful smile I had ever seen. "I'm sure this world has been dying to give you your purpose back."

I went rigid at his statement. This world had been the one that orchestrated me and Jongho's end. It let me love and be loved again in return, and that same blessing turned out to be my biggest curse. I was this close to having it all, and now, I just stood still on the ashes of all my memories.

"Did I say something wrong? I apologize," he frowned.

I waved my hand. "No, you didn't. I, uh, just remembered something very unpleasant on my end."

He hesitantly held his hand out for me and motioned for me to grab it. "It's a beautiful day today," he mused out. "Would you like to ride that thing with me?"

He pointed at the big 'ol Ferris Wheel that was situated at the end of the fair, though it wouldn't have mattered. It was big enough for everybody to see. The way he smiled at me was of unbridled confidence and I can tell then and there, that he doesn't know how to lose.

"Let's," I smiled brightly and held his hand with the perfect squeeze and prolonged eye contact.

I could tell that it caught him off guard, but it didn't stop him from squeezing my hand back and leading me towards the line so we could get on the ride.

"Mind if I do this?" he asked, hesitantly putting his arms across my shoulder.

I shook my head. "Not at all."

My heart flipped incessantly in my chest when I felt him squeeze my shoulder once before pulling me plush on his chest. I blushed profusely, I can smell his cologne. It was fresh with hints of something citrusy, and by God, I couldn't help but close my eyes.

"Getting comfortable there, aren't we?" I could hear the smirk in his voice when I leaned my head against his shoulders.

I looked up at him with a playful smile. "Would you like me to stop?"

"No," he replied instantaneously. It was my turn to smirk at him.

It was pretty uneventful afterwards, and the next thing I knew, we were sitting across each other inside the little passenger cabin, or whatever that was called, and up we went really, really slowly, but surely.

The view from up here provided a perspective that only something from this afar would provide. It makes me realize that we are nothing but specks in this world, and our problems are usually so small compared to what everyone else has.

"The last time I was here was with someone really dear to me," he suddenly began to speak as he stared at the view with me.

I squirmed in my seat, but I forced myself to look at him. "I'm sure they loved it here as much as you did," I said. "Do you miss them?"

"There has never been a day where I didn't," he said, melancholy seeping in his voice and in my heart. He crossed his arms and heaved a sigh. "What about you?" He gave me a pointed look. "Have you ever been in love before?"

"Of course I have," I whispered, my voice thick and raw in the empty cabin we were in. "He had some things to finish, things that didn't involve me. Sometimes I think he already forgot me."

"What makes you think that?"

I smiled morosely at him. He was looking at me like I just tore my heart from my chest and presented it to him on a silver platter. "It's just my heart yearning for him," I shrugged. "I will forever treasure the rare love we both had, keep it as long as I live."

I lifted my head and looked him in the eye. "Even after everything, he was still the greatest thing that has ever happened to me."

"And what of you?" I asked when I saw that he wasn't going to say anything. "Have you ever been in love?"

He began to chuckle darkly, until he was fully laughing like I just said the most outrageous thing ever known to mankind. "The question is, when have I ever not loved you?"

He was done playing this little game and so was I. All I could do was stare at Jongho, I couldn’t afford to be surprised when he suddenly sat with me earlier because we were in public, but now that it was just us, I couldn’t help all the hurt that suddenly came crashing down on me.

But I wasn’t the only one. Jongho was struggling to contain himself, his breathing was laboured and any attempt to control his stance was long gone. “For three damn years,” Jongho chuckled bitterly. “All I ever wanted was you.“

I felt heat surge in my blood. “You were the one who left me,” I muttered. “You gave me misery I don’t want my enemies to feel.”

I almost didn’t want to forgive him. I could feel my bottom lip tremble so I bit it. I was terrified that if I let go, the dam would burst. Jongho heaved a shaky sigh, his eyes looking at me with such longing that I almost felt bad.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was thick with emotion. “I am so, so sorry, Y/N. I’m so tired.”

His voice cracked towards the end and I put my knuckles in my mouth to prevent myself from crying. How could I get mad at him? None of it was his fault, everything he did, both the good and the bad, all of it was to keep me safe from something he didn’t even want nor could control.

“You were my lifeline, whether you knew it or not,” Jongho began. “I’ve done a lot of stuff, things I had to do, and were forced upon me, but whenever I’d think of you, everything seemed to be alright, and whenever I was this close to losing myself, your image in my head always put me back on solid ground.”

“So please,” Jongho was shaking, trembling, as he put his hands up together like he was praying. "I'm begging you, Y/N, please have me. I’m so exhausted of not having you with me, I can’t take it anymore.”

I have never seen him this desperate before, or was I only seeing what I wanted to? Upon closer inspection, underneath all his handsome features was a man who lost his mind so long ago. His eyes were sunken, lips chapped, skin pale.

I’d made up my mind. I’d always viewed his love as something celestial, and he always made me feel divine. Despite all that happened, his eyes still held that gentleness I loved him for. He was my sweet summer sun, I could lay with him and always feel his warmth.

“I can’t survive without you anymore, blossom, I’m at my limit,” Jongho’s eyes reddened with emotions. “You don’t have to love me back like you used to and you don’t have to belong to me, but please, let me be yours.”

My heart began to beat so fast, I was scared that it was going to pop out of my chest and I wouldn't have time to catch it

He held my hand and held it tight. “Director Jeong and Director Kang were pleased at my work, and they gave me a lot of payment for it. It’s also for the life they stole from me,” he swallowed tentatively. “We’re set for life.”

I was hesitant, but he wasn’t done. “I bought a house for us and our future family, if you’ll have me. I know you sold the old house,” he said, his first tear falling on my hands. “My dreams are so small, but it looks much bigger when I picture you with me.”

That did it for me, and then I was hysterically crying. My emotions were all over the place, at first, it was my grief. It felt so strong that I couldn't help but drown in it. I haven't cried in a while - years even. The familiarity of my tears comforted me in a messed up way.

I felt myself being pulled on a firm chest. "It's okay, love, hush now, you're okay," he rubbed my back soothingly. "I'm here now, I'm not leaving you ever again..."

"What took you so long?" I sobbed pitifully, hiccupping at every syllable. I thumped my fists on his chest. "Goddamn it, Jongho, stop doing this to me, my heart can only take so much---"

I was hastily pulled onto the best kiss of my life. We were so rough about it too, I could feel both of our teeth clash onto each other because of how much we wanted to breathe each other in, but I didn't care. These were three years of longing, yearning for each other as our tongues danced with each other in a battle for dominance.

I could feel his tears mesh with mine and eventually we broke our kiss. "It's over, love, it's over," Jongho's hands were shaking so badly when he leaned his forehead with mine as he cupped my face. "I'm out of the CIA, I'm sorry it took me three years, but I had to make sure nothing will separate us again."

I could feel the waves of my grief lessen as Jongho kept whispering sweet nothings in my ear, and they slowly ebb into relief as my chest gets flooded with overwhelming love for this man.

"Don't cry, my love, I'm here now," Jongho whispered as he wiped my tears with his thumbs. He gave me the sweetest kiss on the tip of my nose. "I'm not going anywhere this time."

I couldn't help but giggle. "You promise?" I sniffled loudly. "I-I can't do this again, Jongho. I'm going to die this time if you leave me again."

"I'm never letting you go," he smiled tightly. He pointed outside the cabin. "Look."

I stared in awe. We were at the highest point of the Ferris Wheel and the colourful sun was beginning to set.

I buried myself onto his chest and he envelops me in a hug. "We made it," I murmured. He hummed. "I love you so much, Jongho."

I felt butterflies rush into my tummy, as if this was our first time all over again. He brought his lips closer to my ear. "I love you, too."

"How did you know I was here?" I couldn't help but wonder. "How did you find me?"

His embrace tightened and I couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped me. If someone had told me days ago that I would be this happy, I would have laughed at their faces.

I never thought this day would come, and I'm not sure what the future holds, but I have a feeling that today marks the start of me and Jongho's happily ever after.

"I told you, didn't I?" Jongho smiled, grabbing my hand and planting a tender kiss on it. "My soul will always find yours."

Dividers from: @arcielee ❤️❤️❤️

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subcultureblues · 2 months ago

Text

Don't You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 2

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

———

Dustin was criss cross on the couch the next day eating a rainbow of cereal and watching Saturday morning cartoons when he saw it.

“What’s that?” He said, taking the morning paper right out from under his mother’s nose.

“Dusty!” She chided, sitting up in her recliner. “I was just getting to my horoscope.”

“Sorry, mom.” He said distantly. He read over the ad again and his grew ear to ear. This was too perfect!

Eddie’s been too busy with his dumb girlfriend to hang out with them in forever.

Well, there might be no better way to reel him back in than a Creature from The Black Lagoon re-run. Ok, it was at the drive through a town over - but Eddie literally can’t say no! He loved classic horror (even after everything they’d seen in living color.)

Dustin kept the outer page and returned the rest.

“Thanks mom! Also, Cancer’s should keep an eye out for big opportunities on the horizon.” He yelled back over his shoulder as he ran over to the phone. He paused as listen to the line ring. “And let their kid go out with his friends tonight!”

“Now where does it say that…” His mom tutted, far too used to Dustin’s Dustining to be surprised by almost anything.

“Come on…” Dustin mumbled impatiently on the fifth or sixth ring.

“Wayne here.”

“Hi Mr. Munson! It’s Dustin Henderson, is Eddie there?”

“Eds, it’s for you.” Kind of surprising his uncle was up at this hour. Usually he was sleeping in to prepare for the next nightshift. Maybe he got the rare weekend off. Good for him.

“You’ve reached The Dark Lord Baelzabub’s office, can I take a message?”

“Eddie! Right! So!” Dustin ignored him, already shooting off at 60 miles an hour. “There’s this thing going on, it’s tonight - and I swear, your gonna be off the wall when you hear about it cause they never have good stuff on out here - “ Eddie cut him off.

“Woah, there. You said tonight? Cause no can do compadre.”

“But!” Dustin sputtered. “You’re not gonna wanna miss this Eddie I’m telling you.”

“Sorry, little man. Can we do uh, I could do tomorrow. Wait actually shit, not tomorrow.”

“No, we can’t - it’s only happening tonight, if you’ll just let me tell you what it - “

“Sorry, man. I’m not gonna make it. I’m uh, I’m -“ he sighed.

“Busy.” That fucking Judas…..

“Yeeeeah. Look Henderson, I’m sorry. I’ll catch the next one ok, man. I promise.“

“Right. Yeah.” Dustin wasn’t pouting. He wasn’t.

They didn’t stay on the line long. He sighed and glared at the phone. Fuck it, fuck Eddie - they were still going. And then next week at Hellfire when Eddie asked about they’re weekend they’ll tell him how awesome it was and how much fun they had without him. Then he’ll regret blowing Dustin off.

He picked up the phone again.

“Harrington residence.” Oh right, Steve’s alleged parents were in town.

“Uh, hi. It’s Dustin Henderson. Can I talk to Steve. Please.” He said, only just managing to remember his manners.

“Steve, honey, your little friends on the phone.” Mrs. Harrington said.

“Hey man, what’s up. Wait, I’m gonna stop you right now. No I can’t give you a ride.”

Dustin sputtered indignantly.

“What you just assume I only call you when I need a favor.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You just called to say hi.” Steve corrected himself. Then he paused, clearly waiting.

“Yeah.” Dustin huffed. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Steve repeated pleasantly.

“So uh, how’s uh, how the uh,” Dustin’s eyes darted around the room trying to latch onto something via image/word association. He made eye contact with the portrait of a calico tabby his mother had needle pointed into a throw pillow. “- your cat?”

“How’s your cat?” Steve shot back.

“Hey, woah, low blow!”

“So is this call a welfare check for my nonexistent cat or?”

“No! I, uh - your parents! They’re in town - “

“Dustin.”

“Well… - Look, ok so I thought wouldn’t Steve enjoy if we all went out tonight and - “

“And there it is. Look, I already got plans tonight: So...”

“You too?” Double Judas!

Steve had said all his weekend plans were canceled since his parents were at the house!

“Yeah, well, the plan changed.” Dustin was running out of chauffeurs…

After a minute of huffing, he called Will. At least he seemed properly enthusiastic.

“One thing though. How are we supposed get all the way out there?”

“You’re gonna get Jonathan to drive us.” Dustin said confidently. Will however, hesitated.

“I’m not sure. I think he said he was going on a date with Nancy tonight.”

“Seriously?” Dustin huffed. “Jesus Christ. Well, you’re gonna convince him then.”

“I dunno.”

“Come on, Will. We’re counting on you here. All our licensed friends have betrayed and abandoned us. You gotta come through on this.” Will didn’t say anything. “Just pull the kidnapped by monsters card! Right? Say the creature feature will be therapeutic, or something!”

“Fine. I’ll ask.” Will sighed.

Will could be convincing when he needed to be. Thing is, he didn’t even really have to try. It was those damned puppy dog eyes. That’s what got Dustin, Mike, and Will in the back seat of Jonathan’s Lincoln.

They invited Lucas but he couldn’t make it after coming down with a bad case of relatives-in-town. It turned out for the best considering Nancy was occupying the passenger seat. Looking beleaguered.

Jonathan found a spot with a decent view and put the vehicle in park. He looked over to his girlfriend with a forced optimism.

“See? Not so bad.”

Nancy smiled tightly, looking at the adolescents crammed into the back. Mike made a face at her, and because it was genetically hardwired into them both, she returned it.

“Uh huh. Romantic.” She said, turning around to watch the opening credits. Will had told Dustin they were on the rocks. He might even feel a little bit guilty for intruding on date night but they were short on options here.

“Can we get snacks?” Mike asked Jonathan.

“Uh, sure. We can go over there. Did your uh, parents give you money for snacks?” Jonathan said.

Dustin and Mike shook their heads.

“Oh uh…” Jonathan fumbled with his wallet, shifting around in the coin pouch. Will very quietly looked at his shoes. Mike seemed to notice because had opened his mouth like he was about to say something to him. But then after a pause, turned back to the front.

“Actually, Jonathan got us slushies last time.” Mike said loudly.

“And he gave us money for the arcade the other week.” Dustin said, picking up quickly.

“Yeah, it’s not his turn to pay.” Mike said.

Will’s seemed to relax a little, his shoulders becoming not so tightly hunched.

“Oh. Ok.” Jonathan said, obviously somewhat relieved himself.

“It’s your turn.” Mike said, kicking that back of Nancy’s chair.

“Excuse me?” She said, turning to glare at him.

“It’s your turn to pay for the snacks. Come on, you have a job.”

“I’m not your babysitter.” She rolled her eyes. She decisively turned her back to them again.

“We should have gone with Eddie.” Mike whispered.

“Yeah well he’s, busy.” Dustin whispered back, making air quote finger bunnies. “Besides, that guy barely has money for gas. Steve wouldn’t let us starve though.”

Mike huffed, rolling his eyes at the mere mention of the guy.

Dustin settled back into his seat, looking out the window at a couple passing their car on the way back from the concession stand. He could smell the popcorn in their bucket.

Wait a minute. Is that -

No fucking way. Speak of the devil, I guess…

Dustin peered across the rows and yup, that was Eddie’s van. Hard to mistake that piece of junk for anything else that passed for road legal.

“That fucking bastard!” Dustin whispered.

‘Busy.’ Right. Busy going out to see a movie - without Dustin!

And also the rest of the party.

“Hey where are you going?” Mike said, but Dustin was already out of the car.

Mike and Will scrambled to follow him.

“Wait, where are you guys- “ Jonathan’s reaction time was a bit slow.

“They’re fine.” Nancy said.

“Ok just don’t be gone too long.” Jonathan said, ineffectually.

“Where are we going?” Mike said.

“Look.” Dustin gestured at the van, positively aggrevied.

Dustin stomped over. He could see through the window from there. Nobody was even in the front. He ditched them to come see a movie he couldn’t be bother to actually watch. Now that really grinded his gears. It was with righteous fury he banged his fist against the side of the van.

Dustin cracked a satisfied smile when he heard a yelp and the metal sounds of someone banging around in the back.

“Watch this.” He whispered. Then he dropped his voice a few octaves and with an Oscar worthy Hopper Impersonation said, “This is the police. We know what you’ve been up to.”

Mike had to bury a snicker behind his hands.

“Hey man, I know my rights - “ Eddie cracked the back door, sticking his head out. His eyes grew very wide. “Oh you can not be fucking serious….?”

Dustin couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh man, your face!” All threes boys, even Will, were snickering. At least until they heard -

“Dustin?!” From behind Eddie came an unmistakably shrill voice, positively scandalized.

Eddie grimaced. He turned his head slowly to look back over his shoulder.

“Um. Yep. Dustin. And company.”

“What the - Is that Steve?” Mike said, rather scandalized himself.

Begrudgingly, Eddie let the door swing open, revealing Steve in the back of the van sitting on a mattress and a pile of blankets.

“What? Since when do you two hang out - !“ Mike sputtered, throwing his hands up like this was a most unforeseen betrayal.

Mike fully bought into Eddie’s hype. Which makes sense. Eddie was cool as hell. But much as Dustin’s tried to set him straight, Steve dated Mike’s sister. Those two forever were destined to be adversaries as far as he was concerned.

Steve kind of just thought Mike was a shithead.

Sure if you ask Mike, he considered Steve like ‘terminally uncool’, and that was a direct quote. Way too uncool to be friends with Eddie Munson of all people.

Dustin’s been trying to push this friendship for almost a year at this point, to absolutely no avail.

So. Actually Mike kinda had a point there.

“Yeah, since when do you two hang out -“

“We don’t!” Steve said quickly.

“- without us.” Dustin frowned.

“What are you guys doing all the way out here? Away from Hawkins. Like just, so far away from Hawkins.” Eddie said, smiling uncomfortably wide. His eyes were shifting warily between the party and Steve, like he was watching the world’s most invisible ping pong tournament.

“It’s not that far.” Steve muttered. Eddie almost looked guilty the way he was chewing on his lip.

And Steve looked, well… honestly Steve looked caught red handed. For what? Dustin had no fucking idea.

Dustin narrowed his eyes. Steve was bright red, his hair was a mess (highly suspect), he was wearing his favorite polo but it was all untucked and disheveled. He was blinking up at them, mouth open like he was struggling for words.

“I don’t believe it…” Dustin said. He sniffed the air, a bloodhound on the trail. “You two were…”. The older boy’s eyes grew wide. “Smoking weed!”

Eddie deflated, dropping his head. “You caught us.” He said, monotone. He pressed a hand roughly to the side of his face, leaning his elbow on his thigh and looking up at them with his one visible eye. “We secreted away to smoke some fresh schedule 1. Please don’t tell Mrs. Reagan.”

Steve did a little angry scoff. Eddie lifted his head just enough to peer through his bangs and see the pissy look Steve was giving him. Eddie threw up his palms, with a wide eyed and beleaguered flinch. Clearly telegraphing a defensive, what?

“Since when do you smoke weed.” Mike asked. Because obviously Steve wasn’t cool enough for that either.

“I peer pressured him into it.” Eddie stage whispered, wiggling his fingers in villainous glee.

Steve rolled his eyes. Dustin was like 95% sure that was total bullshit. Because he was almost 100% sure Steve already smoked some. Dustin’s been in Jonathan’s car before, of course he’s gonna know what weed smells like. He’ll catch a whiff of it on Steve every now and again, especially these last few weeks.

These guys still try to hide stuff from them like they’re little kids.

But also, Eddie’s clearly just trying to keep the mood light considering how flustered Steve looks about getting caught with the stuff.

“Remember kids, just say no. Unless your bad influence has as high quality stuff as I do in which case -“

Steve kicked out his foot knocking Eddie in the thigh.

“Say - no thank you.” He finished passive aggressively, as if Steve should’ve had more faith he would stick the landing. “Just. How’d you guys even get out here anyway?”

“Jonathan and Nancy drove us.”

“Nancy’s here?” Steve sat up quickly, straightening to look past all their heads.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. He grinned at Steve with his canines, slowly shaking his head. As if the van didn’t smell bad enough, he took out a pack of smokes.

“What?” Steve huffed. Eddie leaned against the wall of the van, one shoe dangling out brushing the ground.

“I didn’t say anything.” Eddie’s words were garbled between the cigarette he was lighting.

Dustin took a step back, looking at Mike and Will. They too, seemed to pick up on the overall bazaar energy these two were giving off.

Honestly Dustin ‘plan’ had been to march over here, make Eddie feel bad for blowing them off, then maybe asking if they could hang out with him for the rest of the movie. Probably guilt him into buying them snacks.

Dustin wasn’t happy about being ditched, but he’d wanted to come see this movie with Eddie. He could be mad at the guy later.

Now though, he was thinking Nancy and Jonathan’s weird couple energy would be preferable to this, whatever this is.

“Riiiiiiiight.” Dustin jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re gonna - we’re going.”

They made it maybe 5 steps, but Eddie was ever insitant he have the last word.

“Hey shitheads. Don’t mention Harrington here, if you can help it.” He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, using the hand to cup his mouth away from Steve. He stage-whispered, “He doesn’t want Miss Priss to know he’s been experimenting with - the devil’s lettuce.” He added a lot of drama to that last bit, like he was telling a spooky ghost story. Not talking about like, pot.

“Eddie.” Steve said. Eddie ignored him.

“You guys run along now. Pay attention yeah, this one’s a classic.” He gestured vaguely behind him with his cigarette. “It’ll be on the quiz. And I expect your report on my desk Monday morning.”

They said their goodbyes again, and wandered off. When they got back to the Lincoln, Jonathan had his arm around Nancy and she was leaning her head against his chest.

Dustin took a brief second to ponder over what the hell Nancy and Jonathan’s deal even was these days…

“Hey guys.” He said, neck bending to look over his shoulder at an awkward angle so as not to jostle his girlfriend. “That Eddie’s van?”

“Uh-huh.” Will said.

“You should tell him to pull up. Or something.”

“You are not doing that right now.” Nancy muttered. “The kids are here.”

“What? I wasn’t -“ Jonathan protested. It wasn’t very convincing.

“Nah he’s uh,” Dustin wasn’t gonna call Steve out, not if he seemed actually upset that he’d been ‘caught’ doing drugs. “Eddie’s - he’s… on a date.” He said. Will nodded, because he also tended to catch on pretty quick. Even Mike shrugged in placid agreement.

“Huh.” Jonathan said, landing somewhere between surprised, impressed, and all together apathetic. “Good for him, I guess.”

Friends don’t lie, sure. Except sometimes. When friends lie for their friends.

Wait a minute. Dustin squinted at the back of Jonathan’s head. Does Jonathan buy drugs from Eddie often? It was a long shot, but maybe Eddie and Jonathan have secret smoke sessions too.

“Do you know who Eddie’s girlfriend is?” Dustin tried.

“Hmmm? Girlfriend?” Jonathan said distractedly, eyes on the screen. “Uh, no, no I don’t think I’ve met her.”

Dustin huffed, frustrated, sinking back into his seat once again. Feeling thwarted.

By the time the movie was finished and they were lining up with the other cars towards the exit, the shitbox van was nowhere to be seen.

So imagine Dustin’s surprise when he gets a call around 10 am and Eddie’s on the line asking if he wants to come by and hang out.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve been telling you I’d help you out on this one shot you’re trying to run for weeks now.”

“I thought you were busy today?” Dustin inquired. Hesitant. As if just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him.

“Nope. No, uh, not anymore. Those plans got,” Eddie cleared his throat, “scrapped. Don’t worry about it. Are you coming over or not?”

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and sprinted to his room to get gather his notes.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt @thespaceantwhowrites @blcksh33p1987 @the-legal-shipper @maverickricky @i-amthepizzaman @pretend-theres-a-name-here @steddiefication @that-one-gay-crow @gleek4twd @theintrovertedintrovert @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @queercrisis2003 @two-vampires-kissing @awkwardgravity1 @stripey82

@sofadofax @midnightskeeper @blurryjoji @estrellami-1 @caraspud @little-trash-ghost @finalmoondragon @samsoble @depressed-freak13

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#steddie #steddie fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #stranger things #idk if you can tell but even though Eddie’s pissy and jealous he wants to protect Stevie’s feelings #don’t mention he’s here hanging out with me. even though I HATE he doesn’t want you to mention he’s hanging out w me #got my Eddie playlist on for this one boys #gonna TRY to get part 3 out tomorrow we’ll see I guess #also PLEASE we not not forget that Dustin lying (but also really not lying) about Eddie being on a date here #is going to cause just. so much unforeseen mayhem #someone stop this kid #mine

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seattlesellie · 1 year ago

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what if i said that abby would mock ur begging after she quite literally told u to beg? abby being mean while fucking u is canon to me (btw she basically treats u like royalty after by cleaning up up, spoiling u, ordering ur fav takeout, and she 100000% does whatever u ask. its true!! she told me herself!!!!!)

especially mad abby. abby who had to deal with shit for an entire week with no release. abby who takes her anger out on you.

grabbing, smushing your cheeks with her huge palms and muttering “nuh uh, say please” as she forces your mouth open… then you actually mumble a pathetic little “please?” and she chuckles and taps/slaps you across your cheek. “t’aw, sound so desperate sweetheart, almost makes me feel sorry for you”

and her stern, cold look as she grunts “beg for it” whilst deliciously filling just your leaky entrance. once you actually do? “oh yeah? pathetic, filthy little slut,” her pupils grow double in size, flaxen hairs spurting out of her not so neat, untucked braid. “needy little pussy needs more? bet she does” — she coos and feigns concern, mocking you with every spit of her words. then you let go of such a breathy mewl of a “pleaseeeee”, that dumb brain of yours thinking it might just finally convince her to fuck you properly, but no.

“louder, n’add my name in the mix or i’ll make sure you’ll stay fuckin’ empty forever”, you shake your head in dismay with a purely shocked, confused expression on your face. “no? awh, you’re scared?”

“terrifying threat, huh?” — hell, she even rolls her eyes.

and she’s so fucking mean. because instead of giving up and surrendering to your pleas (and trust her, it’s hard not to), she shifts her body backwards, crosses her arms and stares down at you. “who the hell, gets scared of not getting fucked?,” she actually grins. “m’so close to just letting you hump this little pillow on your own” — she speaks with the calmest, most serene voice in the universe, as if your soaking wet, quivering body isn’t spasming beneath her. as a result of her words, you cross your thighs together in frantic search of that friction. she furrows her eyebrows.

“no…” then she chuckles, flexing that tricep of hers so casually, “wouldn’t dare to do that” — a sigh of relief airs out of your mouth.

she moves closer, her breath fanning over your face. “you’d like it too much” :((

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #mean!dom abby is all i know :<

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daffodils-and-viscera · 1 month ago

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i've seen a lot of posts comparing mastermind to truth seekers but hear me out: ozzie's

SO this may be long buckle in. these episodes kinda have the same plot?

blitzø has found himself in a bit of a sitch, as it were...

our beloved dramatic gay owl is at home watching gabriela pine over alejandro, when suddenly... blitzy is in trouble! omg let's get cunty and go save the day!!

however, despite showing up and saving lives (he may have literally saved blitzø's life in mastermind but that outfit from ozzie's changed all our lives forever soo...) blitzø isn't necessarily ((outwardly)) happy to see stolas (((we all know he does not mind stolas' ass in his face but stay with me here)))

stolas' privilege allows him to be immediately heard and not punished by the people who would never listen to blitzø's side of things, and stolas gets to be his dramatic lil bitch self and we love to see it

in ozzie's, blitzø has his past come back to haunt him in so many ways, he is put in the spotlight and he is decidedly not comfortable there, being called out for all the shit he's done to fizz and verosika and even m&m - HOWEVER! as we all now know, all of those people actually care about blitzø and he was just being his lil destructive self. he is given the chance to defend himself but it's overwhelming and he kinda freezes up

in mastermind, blitzø is being outright blamed for things he didn't do but like.. he actually didn't do any of that ! and yet he can't defend himself because nobody would listen to him even if he wasn't gagged.

the difference between these 2 episodes is in stolas' behaviour when HE is put in the spotlight- at ozzie's he is freshly separated from stella and probably hasn’t done anything social for a long ass time and he’s not used to being in public. and here’s this thing that he thinks is gonna be fun and will help blitzø but he is not able to express himself so he hides and the result of that is blitzø pushing him away, literally doesn’t want to touch him

in MASTERMIND our birdy babe is singing his lil heart out with no regard for what anyone else thinks of him or what might happen to him, which is so beautiful (but also stolas pls try not to inhale the water).... when he doesn't hide his feelings from blitzø we see how perfect it could be when their inner worlds merge and they are finally on the same page, and blitzø does the furthest thing possible from pushing stolas away !!!

(he did however still neglect to consider octavia's feelings when he decided to drop everything for blitzø... with devastating implications in mastermind) sorry to bring the mood down but this needs to be pointed out

in ozzie's, stolas tries to invite blitzø to his place (and we all remember how well that went)........ blitzø goes home alone and loona is not there, he is all alone and sad curled up on the couch on his phone looking at all the people he believes he's let down and it's heartbreaking

when stolas goes to blitzø's place in mastermind, stolas gets all the love and support blitzø has to offer and loona is there too and blitzø curls up on the couch on his phone looking at all these people who love and support him!!! and then he makes the couch all comfy for stolas and he’s not alone?? like they’re both so not alone that it hurts my heart to think about. these 2 have so much love for each other and yeah there's gonna be tough times ahead but they are not alone! !!!!

basically both eps end the same? but also everything is better now? because blitz was loved before he just couldn’t see it through all his nonsense

and stolas is still in a messed up situation and he's still kinda problematic and he couldn’t see it before through all his nonsense but now he’s more self aware?

the real difference is they have each other now! they are so not alone it makes them look stupid!!

anyway this is the longest post i've ever made sorry if it's rambly i have adhd and a lot of feelings about these two

#i love having thoughts #helluva boss #stolitz #stolas #blitzø #stolas x blitz #helluva boss blitz #stolas goetia #helluva boss mastermind #helluva boss ozzie's

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ssentimentals · 2 months ago

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hey i wanted to request soft promt 37 with lando... idk its just really lando coded

i love you forever for sending me f1 prompts!! 💜 and it IS lando coded, thank you for requesting and i hope you'll like it!

fluff prompt: 'it's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling.'

lando adjusts his jacket for the third time, ignoring carlos and his pointedly amused stare. he obviously has it easy - his girlfriend is right next to him and they both are sickeningly in love with each other, so it's not like he has to woo her with his appereance. unlike lando, who is very much single and has a job to woo you with his appereance. shit, does he have time to go back and change?

'cabron, you're overthinking this,' carlos says in attempt to calm him down. 'you look fine, i promise i wouldn't have set you up on a double date if i weren't sure that she likes you back.'

just the thought that carlos might be right, that you actually might lando back is enough to perk him up. carlos is not that cruel to joke about stuff like this and lando is...well, hopeful. his hope rise further when rebecca softly says that you two would make a great couple. he honestly can't agree more; his imagination painted that picture too many times in his mind of you two being together. god, you'd be so good to each other, he knows. he knows all of this, so he has no idea why he starts acting like an idiot when you turn up.

'this looks suspiciously like a double date from the outside,' you murmur, sliding up to the booth next to him, watching as carlos and rebecca argue about the drinks.

you look beautiful. stunning, really. which is what he is supposed to say but instead what comes from his mouth is: 'it's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling.'

lando is ready to hit his head on the table, but then you laugh and oh. he is okay with being an idiot if it makes you laugh like that. he likes your laugh, like your smile. lando likes so many things about you, it's getting ridicilous how he has such a hard time articulating all of it to you.

'you two look cute,' carlos comments offhandedly.

'oh, do we?' you ask, turning to lando, smiling. 'not as cute as you two though.'

'we are cuter than them.' lando argues, when food arrives. 'how can you lie to them?'

he likes making you laugh. lando is sure that he looks like a lovesick puppy, but my god, if making you laugh was a job, he'd apply for it and stay in this position for as long as you'll have him. your eyes shine bright when you turn to him, sitting as close as this little booth allows you to. 'that's very confident,' you comment, chuckling. 'but we gotta let them win this one, lan. they are together, afterall.'

lando blinks. he can be such an idiot, but he surely can't miss this chance, right? 'then we should get together too,' he says quietly even though both carlos and rebecca are busy slow dancing on the dance floor. 'so we can win this argument.'

there's a pause when you try to gauge his reaction, to understand whether he's being real or not. lando just stares at you with all of the emotions written clearly on his face for you to see. 'just for the sake of winning this argument?' you ask at last, more serious but still smiling.

'for winning this life.' lando lets out and cringes at the same second, making you howl with laughter.

'oh my god, that was horrible!' you squeak, leaning on him, laughing.

'i can't believe i said that as well,' lando mutters, shy, but happily wrapping one arm around your shoulders. 'cringed so hard.'

'okay, lando norris.' you lean back, still laughing. 'okay. am i correct in assumption that you imply us being together will mean that we're winning this life?' lando nods, biting his lower lip. you smile softly, taking his hand in yours. 'i agree, then.'

lando fears his heart stopped. 'yeah?'

you lean in, brushing his nose with his. 'yeah.'

nevermind, his heart is fine. it's beating again, stronger than ever.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #f1 prompt #I LOVE WRITING FOR MY FAV BOY

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chleem · 3 months ago

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Not a big deal pt3

miniseries; basketball player drew x high scl student reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to a random guy at a frat party miles away from your home. A few days later, you find out that he’s your brother’s competitor, for the regional colleges’ basketball tournament.

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, age gap (18 & 24), protected sex (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ bit long but enjoy! | p2 | index | p4

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

4 years later

“Drew, Drew Starkey.”

The waiter checks his name off the list, and gestures inside, “follow me then, Mr Starkey.”

Drew follows the waiter in, looking around the place. Hawks rented the entire restaurant for the night, just like every year, to celebrate the new season. It's his third season with Hawks, so he knew the procedures well enough now.

Tonight will just be free food, bonding with teammates, etc. Could you say he was looking forward to it? No. He would much rather stay home, especially this year.

Why especially this year? Because of his new teammate, Luke.

It wasn’t hatred or anything; in fact, they had amazing chemistry on the court. Communicating through nods or glances, as if they’ve known each other for forever. Really, the coach was shocked at how good they did during preseason; he’s now convinced there’s a chance of winning.

Luke seems to have matured, anger issues not the same as before and actually willing to listen to advice. He was friendly towards Drew, and overall, did not look so bothered about losing the championship during college anymore.

It was Drew who felt uncomfortable around him. Why? Well, he fucked his virgin sister, who was 18 at the time. Worse, whenever Drew stares at Luke for too long, he sees your face. Your eyes, nose, lips, everything.

“Nice suit, man,” one of Drew’s teammates and best friend, Jay, compliments him, as the two approach each other first. Every year it was required to wear formal for this occasion, since high executives would be here to celebrate too. Drew, has worn the same black suit for the third time now.

“Yeah, same with you,” Drew smiles, the two of them engaging in a small hug. “Um, are we seated together?”

“Yeah, over there,” Jay points over to a table near the window. Each table had a maximum of six people, and already two of their teammates were there. “Man, we should some drinks first.”

“No need to remind me,” Drew replies, as the two of them head to the bar area. The goal is to get drunk enough so that the executive's’ speeches would sound interesting, but sober enough to make basic human interactions.

“So, you came alone this year too?” Jay asks, ordering a whiskey, which Drew also signals for.

Drew smiles sourly, his friend reminding him about his single status again. Plenty of hookups throughout the years, but never a proper girlfriend due to his busy schedule. “Y’know me. Too busy for that shit.”

Jay nods, as the whiskeys are presented in front of them. Drew immediately downs his, while Jay just takes a small sip. “Well, I’m seeing someone, if you’re wondering.”

“No shit,” Drew laughs, thinking his friend is kidding. Jay smiles down at his drink, probably thinking about the girl. Oh. He really is seeing someone. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Her name’s Phoebe.”

“…and?”

“Yeah. That’s all I’m telling you.”

Drew shakes his head, ordering another whiskey. So much for being friends. “She has a sister, by the way,” Jay speaks up. Oh. Drew knew where this was going. “She might be the perfect one for you.”

Jay’s setting him up. Again. His friend has failed every single time, and it seems like he wasn’t gonna give up. “Hey man,” Drew pats Jay’s shoulder, pursing his lips. “Just quit, okay? I don’t date. Y’know that.”

“When’s the last time you’ve dated then? Have you ever even had a girlfriend?”

Drew frowns, taking his hand off his friend. “Just, no. Please.”

Drew hears a sigh from beside him, and when his second whiskey arrives, he sips on it slowly. “Fine. I just think, that you would be very happy in a relationship.”

Drew smiles against his cup, finding that statement ridiculous. Society was weird, thinking that if one stays single for too long, it meant that they were…depressed in some way. It was tiring.

“Hey, Luke’s here,” Jay suddenly comments. Drew turns around, scanning the place for Luke.

Sure enough, there he was.

And fucking hell.

His eyes land on you, standing beside Luke.

Was it even you? He wasn’t so sure. From far away, it did look like you.

“We should go greet him,” Jay elbows Drew.

Drew did not want to greet him. He is very comfortable here, right next to the bar.

But Jay urges him, leaving him no choice but to walk over. And until Drew was standing directly in front of Luke, was he sure that it was you.

Fuck.

Four years later, and Drew’s body still has reaction towards seeing you. It brings him back to the first night he laid eyes on you, thinking how innocent & pretty you looked in a crowd of drunk and chaotic college students.

You look…amazing. Drew was pretty sure his eyes were widened to the maximum point right now, his brain trying to process the sight of you. Especially, the red dress you were wearing, that's making his imaginations run wild.

No. He must be dreaming right now. After four years, he sees you again? No, this shit only happens in movies, red-string type shit. Was he getting drunk already?

“Um, Drew, you okay?”

Drew quickly averts his gaze back to Luke, his grip on his glass cup tightening. “Yeah, yeah, um, who’s this?” Does he sound cool right now? Because he wasn’t so sure if he was playing his usual chill self.

Luke wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Meet my sister. Y/n. Y/n, this is Drew and Jay. My teammates.”

Shit. So it is you. The girl that Drew can’t seem to forget, the girl that haunts his wildest fantasies for four years now.

When Drew makes eye contact with you, he expects you to have some sort of reaction. But you don’t. In fact, you just quickly glanced at him, a polite smile on your lips. Do you even remember him? “Nice to meet you,” your voice causes Drew to freeze yet again, his mind going back to that night. Your moans, your laugh, your-

“Dude,” Jay elbows Drew yet again. “Aren’t you going to shake her hand?”

It seems like you already shook Jay’s hand, and it's Drew’s turn now.

He licks his lips embarrassingly, and he shakes your hand. Yep. No doubt it was you. He remembers clearly about the way you scratched his back that night, the tug of your hands in his hair, and your fingertips on his abs-

“Um, kind of need my hand back,” your voice cuts him out of his thoughts.

Oh. He was still holding your hand. He retreats it reluctantly, feeling his ears heat up. Gosh, why is he so flustered right now? He feels the stares of Luke, or more, like glares. “So…where are we seated?” Luke asks.

“Near the window.”

“Great. Um, we’re not late, are we?”

“No one really cares.”

Luke and Jay continue to engage in small talk, whereas Drew just gives up on listening. Not just give up, he literally was unable to engage in anything right now. It feels like he's in a dream.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you, absolutely captivated by you. By this matured, attractive presence you gave off. You were just standing there, trying to appear interested in this small talk.

And a question he kept repeating in his head was: do you remember him, like how he remembers you? Do you still think about him from time to time, like he does about you?

You definitely can feel Drew’s stare, his stare making you feel as if you were under a microscope right now. You turn and meet his eyes, and he panics, yet again.

Your eyes tell nothing, of whether or not you remember him. And the small smile you give him confirms it; you forgot about who he was. Fuck. Now Drew felt like the biggest fool to exist.

“If everyone could get back to their seats! The food will arrive shortly,” the host announces through a loud microphone.

“Let’s go then, I’m starving,” Luke squeezes your shoulders, to get you moving.

“Same,” you look away from Drew, and let Luke guide you over to your table.

Drew immediately gulps the rest of his whiskey down, loosening up his tie. Fuck. This was going to be a long night.

——

Drew wasn’t one to eavesdrop. In fact, he hated eavesdroppers. Why are you listening on someone else’s private conversation?

Well, Drew hates himself very much right now.

You sat near the window, at the very end of the table. Across from you was Drew’s other teammate, Kirk. He sat next to Kirk, and across from Luke. The whole night, it was very obvious that Kirk had a thing for you, asking you questions about your life, hobbies, etc.

So now, Drew knew that you’re currently studying law in college, you hate tomatoes but love ketchup, you like museums, you have a horrible sleep schedule, you want to adopt a cat, you hate the cold-

“You’re single, right?”

That makes Drew choke on his food, causing the table to pause and stare at him. He coughs, feeling his whole face going red. “You okay, dude?” Kirk chuckles, patting Drew’s back, as if it’s any help.

Drew nods, trying to suppress his coughs with the help of water. While drinking, he glances at you, who looks at him with worried eyes. He puts his cup back down, clearing his throat, “so, are you?”

He ignores the skeptical stares from Luke, his eyes only focused on you. Please, please, say yes.

You turn away from Drew, just as Luke suddenly speaks up, changing the topic, “can we get another round of this lobster? Its fucking delicious.”

What? Drew’s gaze stays on you, seeing how you bite down on your bottom lip, eyes glued to your plate. Was it, a violating question? Drew had no idea, but seeing how quickly your mood changes, it leaves a bad scar on him.

——

Huh. you’re staying at the same hotel as him. Well, not just him. The entire team, actually. Luke must have arranged it for you.

Drew stands behind you, hands in pockets, trying to look as if he wasn’t bursting with joy. While waiting for the elevator, you lean on Luke’s shoulder, your body ready to give up.

The elevator opens, and the remaining people all squeeze towards it.

You eventually get squeezed into the corner, with Drew close by. Super close by. With no space at all, Drew is forced to lean into you, his arm against the wall to support him.

This close proximity was driving him insane.

He feels your breast press closely to his lower chest, your face planted really close to his neck. From this proximity, he certainly can smell your perfume, shampoo, everything. He looks down at you; and surprisingly, you were already staring up at him. You send him a lazy smile, your eyes squinted up at him.

Cute. He sends you one too, although his smile might be bigger.

The ding sound is heard, and most of the people inside rush out. Drew was disappointed; he wanted to stay like this for a bit longer.

He gets himself off of you, now that there’s more space in the elevator, leaning against the wall. He wants to look at you (he already stared a lot during dinner though), memorize more of you before he goes to bed, but Luke turns around and faces you. Drew bites his lip, staring into the ceiling. “Told you tonight was fun, right?”

Okay, now Drew needed to eavesdrop.

“The guy in front of me was asking too much.”

Yes. Fireworks went off in Drew’s head. “Yeah, Kirk’s a dick. Don’t, don’t date him,” Luke…jokes? Drew wasn’t sure. “Or, I’ll kick his ass.”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” you chuckle, which makes Drew glance at you. He makes sure to get a quick look of your smile again; fast enough so Luke doesn’t notice.

“Do you at least feel better now?”

“…yeah.”

“…I know you’re lying, y/n,” Luke disappointedly says.

No reply heard from you; the ding of the elevator ending the conversation. Drew looks at the screen; the 18th floor. “Goodnight,” you say to Luke, pushing yourself off the wall. To Drew’s surprise, you wave at him. “Goodnight,” you repeat, the same lazy smile on your face.

“Goodnight,” Drew replies, the smile appearing on its own.

The door closes after you leave, and Drew gets hit with a sad realization; he might never see you again. And he hates that thought.

Four years. After four years, he gets another chance to see you. And he’s just gonna let you walk away? Just like he did the first time?

He gets mad suddenly; remembering the lack of interactions the two of you had the entire night, all stolen by Kirk. Luke’s right, Kirk’s a dick. But also, a lucky bastard. He got to sit directly across from you, as well as talk to you. Lucky son of a bitch.

“Are you… gonna get out?”

Drew snaps out of it, looking up at the elevator screen. 24th floor. Luke is holding the door open for him, wondering why he hasn’t stepped out. “Sorry,” Drew murmurs, walking out. Luke follows him, as the two of them had rooms right next to each other.

“You okay, man?” Luke laughs, walking beside Drew.

“Yeah, just drank a bit much,” Drew shrugs, scratching the side of his face.

Luke gets to his room first, “see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” Drew takes his room card out, pressing it against the door. He gets in without another look at Luke, closing the door behind him.

Huh. So this is how tonight was going to end? Him alone in his hotel room, consumed with the thought of you? (As if he hasn’t been thinking about you for the past four years already) Even Drew was disappointed in himself.

“Fuck,” he curses, still standing in the entrance of his room, running his hands through his hair stressfully. “Fuck.”

——

After knocking on 17 doors, this one might be yours.

Drew stood at the entrance of his room contemplating for ten minutes, whether or not to go see you again. After long chains of thoughts and scenarios, he made up his mind: he’s going to see you.

Problem: he didn’t know your room number. So, he spent almost twenty minutes on the 18th floor, knocking on each door hoping it would be you.

And now, on room 1818. He was mentally & physically tired, but he wasn’t going to give up.

He presses on the doorbell, twice. He waits for a few seconds that felt like minutes, tapping against the wall impatiently. Just as he gets ready to move onto the next room, the door opens.

He looks up, and his eyes widen.

You. You’re as shocked as he is, wondering why someone would knock on your door at such a late hour.

He first notices your slightly wet hair; droplets dripping down your neck. Your makeup is off, and he just finds you even more beautiful than before. His eyes naturally wander down to your body; finding you in a white lingerie dress.

Fuck. His brain is malfunctioning yet again.

“Hello?” He hears you chuckle, which makes him bring his attention back to your face. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, um, Drew. I’m Drew, from earlier, the dinner?”

“…I know. Can I help you?” You ask him yet again, a polite smile on your lips. You quickly glance down at his body; he’s still wearing his suit from earlier. He must’ve not showered yet, despite it being almost two hours after.

“Um,” he awkwardly licks his lips; All the lines he rehearsed back in his room are now gone. Drew realizes that he’s still standing in the hallway, and he didn’t want to talk to you while standing out here. “Can I, can I come in?”

You furrow your eyebrows, your face clearly showing discomfort.

He mentally panics, and hurries to add, “I want to talk to you, and it’s rather private. And, important.”

You think about it for a few seconds, listing out the pros & cons of this man coming into your room. You look into his eyes, seeing a sense of urgency and yearning in them. Okay. Maybe he can come in for a while.

You step out the doorway, opening the door wider. “Sit on the couch, I’ll prepare…tea? Wine?”

“Anything’s fine,” he says, walking in. You close the door behind him, and when he spots your shoes by the door, he takes his off too.

As he makes himself comfortable on the small couch in front of the bed, you grab your cardigan that rests on one of the dining room chairs, putting it on.

You open the hotel fridge; finding red wine in there. Opening the cupboard, you reach for two glass bottles, and walk towards Drew. He’s taken his suit jacket off, his tie hanging loosely by his neck, his sleeves rolled up. And he’s manspreading, a position you find to be very hot.

You have to admit; Drew was attractive. Even more attractive than your ex. Actually, the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. And, he’s got a charming personality to match it.

But he’s oddly familiar. During the dinner, your gaze can’t help but always drift over to him. Have you seen him from somewhere? Crazy, you can’t seem to remember where you’ve seen him before. An ad? Tv? Huh.

“So?” You start, sitting beside him. You try opening the bottle, but the cork was screwed on too tight.

Drew takes it from you; his hands brushing yours. You watch him effortlessly get the cork out, the pop heard in the room. He pours it into the two glasses, and sets it down. He sends you a small smile when he notices your stares. “Wine?”

“Well, you said anything’s fine,” your lips curl up on their own, as you reach for your wine glass. He offers to clink against yours; and you do, the two of you maintaining eye contact while sipping. After, you put your drink back down on the small coffee table. “Why a late night talk?”

Drew licks his lips, glancing down at his lap. He seems to have trouble forming words, fidgeting with his fingers. You lean back into the couch, curious as to what he’s thinking about.

After seconds that felt like minutes, he said, “You study law?”

Due to the unexpectedness, you chuckle, “yeah. Why?”

He shrugs, “Suits you.”

What is he even saying? “What?” You giggle, at his response.

You don’t miss the tip of his ears going red; even he thinks his response is funny. “I mean, law sounds fun, and you look like lawyer material.”

“Awesome,” you smile at him, trying to hold back your laughter. “And you look like basketball player material.”

His smile mimics yours; just more awkward.

He seems to not know what to say, despite telling you that he had something to say to you. Weird. So, you help him, by asking, “are you nervous about the new season?”

His eyes light up, “My third season with Hawks now. But, still nervous.”

“Third season?” He nods, and you reach for your wine yet again. “Hawks fan?”

“Always been the dream,” he admits to you, “grew up watching them, and when they offered, I just had to say yes.”

“Or because no other team offered?”

Shit. That sounded wayyy too rude. But that was your humor, and also your way of talking. Does he find it offensive? Wait, anyone would find that offensive. You should apologize-

He laughs lightly, taking a huge gulp of his wine. “Come on. Give me more credit.”

So…he isn’t offended by your words? You shrug, “never seen you play.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you, leaning back on the couch. “You’re lying.”

“Didn’t even know you until tonight.”

“Liar,” his voice drops low, but a smirk is seen on his lips, as if he’s catching you in a lie right now. But you were being honest; you really didn’t know him until tonight.

Unless…maybe there’s a reason why he looked so familiar to you? Ugh, why can’t you remember where you’ve seen him from?

“Really,” you say, looking into his blue eyes.

His eyebrows furrow even deeper, trying to figure out if you were being honest or not. You were. Eventually, he leans forward and pours more wine into his glass. “I believe you,” he murmurs, before sipping on the wine. You watch as he gulps it down; his Adam’s apple moving. “But surely, you’re…a fan of Hawks?”

You shake your head, which makes Drew chuckle. “I…know nothing about basketball.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s my brother’s passion, not mine.”

“Okay,” he adjusts himself on the couch, his body now fully facing you. “Then tell me about law, or stuff like that.”

“‘Stuff like that’?”

“I might bore you if we keep talking about basketball. So, I’ll listen to you.”

“And law isn’t boring to you?”

“Not if you’re talking,” He sends you a warm smile. Woah. Butterflies that you haven’t felt in forever are now forming inside of you. Butterflies that feel different compared to the ones with Zack. “Come on. Tell me. Like, what’s…what new laws have been enforced?”

You laugh; his perception of law is cute. So, that’s exactly what you explain to him, just in simpler terms. His eyes, lips, body tells you that you’ve got his undivided attention; something that makes you smile while talking.

Huh. Weird how this stranger is willing to listen to you yap about laws & everything, as if what you’re saying was as simple was pie. Huh.

——

“Yes! He said that to me!”

“The audacity,” Drew laughs, making you nod even more.

You’re telling him the story of your classmate, who’s also your academic rival. Once he accused you of sleeping with the professor, that it’s the only reason why you’ve got such good grades. Thinking about it now, it just sounds funny. “It wasn’t true but he was so sure,” you laugh, recalling his red face while confronting you.

“He’s a fucking loser,” Drew continues to add, reaching to pour more wine into your glass. The two of you realize that it’s now empty, and you just shrug at him; not really bothered by it.

You take the chance to glance at the clock; it was two a.m already. The two of you have been talking for more than an hour. You suddenly remembered that Luke told you about an early schedule the team had tomorrow, yet Drew was still sitting here, getting tipsy with you.

“It’s..getting late,” you bring up, pointing at the clock.

Drew turns to it, and his eyes widen. But he turns back to you, shrugging. “I guess?”

Is he not getting what you’re hinting at? So, you just tell him, “Luke told me you guys are doing something early tomorrow.”

Drew stares into your eyes, in a way that gets you nervous. But then he looks away, and nods, biting down on his lip. “Um, yeah, totally forgot.”

You smile politely at him, even though deep down you didn’t want him to go. You liked his company, and although it was mostly you talking, he didn't make you feel bad for it. Drew’s…very comforting.

He grabs his suit jacket, the both of you getting up. “Now I can confidently say, that I know y/n.”

“What?” You smile, wondering what he was saying. You watch as he walks to the doorway, putting his shoes on.

When he’s done, he opens the door, turning back to you. “A very successful lawyer, that handles cases for the president or something.”

You laugh; that only happens in your dreams. You lean against the doorway, staring into his eyes. You really didn’t want him to go.

He leans towards you; giving you a hug. His arms wrap around your shoulders, and you hug his waist. Your nose is now filled with the smell of Drew; just like in the elevator earlier, a mix of cologne & alcohol.

Drew slightly pulls away, just so he could look at you. You do the same, staring up into his eyes, then his lips, then back to his eyes.

He also glances down at your lips, his eyes squinted.

Then, he kisses your cheek.

Then, you stand on your toes, planting a light kiss on his cheek too.

Then, he kisses the corner of your lips.

Then, you kiss his jawline.

You look into his eyes, giving him a smitten smile.

And just like that, Drew couldn’t hold back anymore; he kisses you. The kiss is hungry, passionate, intense, and…

And way too nostalgic for your liking.

Wait. Wait.

You pull away from him, feeling a bit overstimulated. Not just from the kiss itself, but…but because of what it reminds you of.

No fucking way.

It’s all coming back to you now; this was Drew. The Drew.

The one you lost you virginity to, the one that didn’t want you.

Wait. Was this even the right Drew? He looks pretty similar to the one you remember, talks similarly, and strangely, also kisses the same.

“Is something wrong?” His deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

Fuck. No. No, it’s not the same Drew. Because, what are the chances of this being the same Drew that took your virginity? Awfully poetic, if this happens to be the same person. Maybe, Drew is somewhere in West Carolina, coaching for some basketball team. And this Drew, was just some doppelgänger.

Okay. Yeah, this, this is just a coincidence. You’re just feeling weird because you broke up with Zack a few days ago. Not a big deal. Just, enjoy having this one-night stand with this attractive man.

You smile, shaking your head. “Just kiss me already,” you murmur, leaning into him. You kiss him lustfully, and he returns it, his hands touching all over you.

He backs you up into the room again, all while his lips are on you. You giggle at his urgency, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Don’t you have to get up early?” You giggle, pulling away.

“I think…it’s not that important,” he throws his suit jacket on the couch, kicks his shoes off, and kisses you again. He kisses you as though it might be the last time he does.

You pull away, just to push him onto the bed. His head lands on the pillows, and he readjusts himself so his back’s against the headboard. He puts his arms behind his head; and suddenly, you’re hit with the same nostalgic feeling.

But you ignore that feeling; it’s in the past now.

He gives you a lazy smirk, as you hover over him, straddling his waist. You can feel his erected cock pressing against your folds. Fuck.

You lean down and kiss him, a euphoric feeling that you might never get over. Your hands are busy; undoing all his buttons in a messy order. He helps you; slightly sitting up and throwing the shirt to the side.

Wow. His body? Sculptured by god himself. “Damn,” you voice out, the words just slipping out. Maybe mostly because of how tipsy you were.

He kisses your collarbone, murmuring, “damn?” There’s a slight chuckle and tease to that, which just makes you smile. Your hands go up to his face, cupping it and forcing him up to stare at you. His eyes…most mesmerizing shade of blue.

Again, you ignore the nostalgic feeling, that similar look in his eyes that the Drew gave you, four years ago. The similarity is uncanny.

“Such pretty eyes…” he murmurs, sharing the same thoughts you have.

His hands slide your cardigan off, discarding it somewhere else. His eyes go down to your neck, leaning forward and sucking on it.

Your head leans back in pleasure; his tongue was skilled, you had to admit. He sucks, bites, licks the area, his hands kneading your breasts through the thin material of the lingerie. His lips are warm and soft, compared to the necklace on you. You shamelessly moan out how good it felt; which just drives him crazier.

Drew’s lips slip lower, sucking on your nipples through the fabric.

“Shit, Drew…” you moan, your hands slipping down his shoulders, running through his abs, and then to the belt. Your hand brushes his boner; fuck. You want him now, the wetness in your underwear proving it.

He smirks against your skin, before pulling away. He glances down at your hands tugging his belt, “didn’t know you were the impatient kind.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him back down on his back. “Just shut up,” you groan, even though the smile was apparent on your lips. You back yourself off his waist, until you were on your knees between his legs. You undo his belt as if you’ve done it before, tugging his pants down.

Holy fuck. You’re salivating at the sight of his dick, fully up and proud.

You just want to wrap your lips around him, letting him use your mouth to satisfy himself. You palm his length through his boxers, leaning down and planting soft kisses along it.

He knows you want to give him a blowjob. He can see the thirst in your eyes. He wants it too; but he stops you, his hand going to wrap around your wrist. “Fuck,” he groans, as you look up at him between his legs. In his perspective, it was a very hot sight to see. But it won’t be as hot as what he’s about to purpose to you. “You… I, I wanna taste you too.”

You cock your head to the side, slightly confused. “So you don’t want me to suck your-“

“Yes, I do but I wanna eat your pussy too-“

“What, what, are you saying-“

Oh. Oh. “69?” You gasp, a slight curl on the corner of your lips.

His lustful and excited eyes confirm it, “you up for it?”

Your pussy is screaming ‘yes!’ But your brain is hesitant; you’ve never done the 69 before. With Zack, he’s tried missionary, doggy, cowgirl, spooning, etc, but never the 69.

Hell, why not? Sounds interesting, and with Drew, it might feel heavenly.

“Teach me,” you say, sitting up.

His eyes widen; either from your approval or your unknowingness to this position. But seeing how intrigued you were to try this, he smirks, nodding. He adjusts himself on the pillows, “you’re in luck, I’m a great teacher.”

“Really?” You lift your dress over your head, now, only left with your underwear on. Drew licks his lips at the sight of your breasts, and when you glance down to his boxers; you see pre-cum already soaking it up.

“M-hm,” he’s clearly lost in the sight of your nakedness. “Back yourself onto my face.”

The way he says it; just makes you even more horny.

You do just as he says, not before sliding your underwear off. You keep looking over your shoulder; spreading your legs as you plant your pussy on his face. You make sure to not fully sit on him; afraid that your weight might suffocate him.

You feel his hands on two sides of your thighs, gripping it tight and pulling you further down. “Relax, babe,” he coos. “Just, sit on me, I can take it.”

“You sure?”

“More than ever.”

And you sink your ass onto his face; until you can feel the tip of his nose poking your entrance, his hot breathe fanning it. Oh shit. “Look, you’re wet already,” he teases, licking the side of your thighs, very close to your pussy.

You groan at the feeling, but Drew quickly reminds you to stay on task, “Lean forward.”

You do; leaning your upper body down till his dick was right in your face. You hoist your upper body up with your elbows, creating a bit of space for you to suck his dick comfortably. You pull his boxers down; and moan at the sight.

“Ready?” He murmurs against your pussy.

You pull your hair to the side, “m-hm.”

You wrap your lips around his the tip of his dick, at the same time, he starts licking your folds. You moan around him, your mind consumed with the pleasure of him making out with your pussy.

You force yourself further down on his cock, the salty pre-cum taste on your tongue. His tip hits the back of your throat; gag reflexes triggering slightly. He was big, so it was a bit struggling to fit him entirely into your mouth.

“Taking it like a good girl, huh?” He manages to groan out, his breath fanning our pussy.

You just moan against his length; starting to bop your head up and down along it, occasionally sucking or biting. Your hand goes to massage his balls; which causes him to moan loudly. Shit. That motivates you to continue massaging his balls, knowing now that it’s what he likes.

He moans against you, while his tongue keeps thrusting itself into your pussy. Fuck, this all felt…so surreal. Is one even able to feel so much pleasure at once, just through oral sex?

The room is now just the sounds of the two of you, moaning and grunting, the bed slightly shaking.

You feel yourself coming close, as Drew continues to make out with your pussy. “Fuck…I’m close, Drew,” you breathe out, bopping your head slower now.

“I’know,” he murmurs, his tongue going slower too. “Just, continue with that, ‘kay?”

A sudden slap to your ass causes you to moan out of surprise, but also a reminder for you to continue wrapping your lips around his dick.

You do so; but only about half-way. With your orgasm coming close, your mouth was close to giving up. Eventually, you pull your mouth entirely away from Drew, wanting to focus on your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans, and just when you get ready to come over his mouth, his tongue stops, and you don’t feel his head nuzzled in your ass anymore. You glance back, curious as to what happened. His grip on your thighs loosens, but still resting there. “Lemme take over, yeah?”

You had no idea what that meant. But, you don’t object to it, nodding your head.

In a second, he lifts you off of him, and gets off from his comfortable position on the bed. “You got a condom?” He asks, standing up.

“In my purse,” you point over to the black bag on the small kitchen counter; the one you brought to dinner.

He gives you a teasing smile, while he walks over to get it. “So you knew you were getting laid tonight.”

Well, you always needed to be prepared, right? You lay yourself on the same spot Drew was just in, warm and smelling just like Drew. You prop yourself up with your elbows; eyes looking at his back as he rummages through your bag. He has a nice ass, by the way. “Couldn’t hurt to have it,” you reply lazily.

He turns around with a condom, ripping it open as he walks back to the bed. You watch as he positions himself between your legs, wrapping the condom around his dick.

He leans forward and kisses you, a very sloppy kiss.

You’re taken by surprise when his fingers enter you; causing you to moan into his mouth. “Fuck,” he curses against your lips, his fingers thrusting in. He adds a third digit, which is close to sending you over the edge.

He stretches you out, while his lips now move to your breasts. You arch your back in pleasure, moans showing him how good it felt.

His fingers pull out, and you watch as he aligns his dick with your entrance. Fuck, no matter how many times you see him, it’ll always shock you with how big he is.

You make eye contact with him, which makes him send you a lazy smile. “You good?” Teasing but also caring is heard in his voice.

“Will…I fit?” you ask unsurely.

He chuckles, placing a small kiss on your jawline. “Don’t worry; you’ll fit. And it’ll feel good.”

You nod, trusting him.

He enters you slowly, making sure you can adjust to his size. You moan when his dick is fully nested inside of you, your hands scratching his back. He leans his forehead gently against yours; the both of you catching your breaths.

He feels you relax under him, and intertwines his fingers with yours. His head pulls away, and for a few seconds, it’s just him staring at your face. You watch as his eyes linger to every spot on your face.

“Hey,” you softly say, which comes out more flirtatious.

“Hey,” he returns the greeting to you, sounding breathless. “You’re pretty.”

That makes you smile, and you pull him back down to kiss him. He kisses back, while thrusting into your core. You moan, even though his thrusts were slow.

“Faster,” you moan.

“Yes ma’am.”

Hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. The way his deep voice adds to that line, gets your pussy closer to coming. And a man of his words, he picks up the pace, slamming into you.

The bed shakes even harder now, the moans the two of you produce are shamelessly loud. He trails small kisses along your neck, sucking occasionally.

And as crazy as this thought was; you knew Drew was going to be the best sex you’ve ever had. Might even be better than the night you lost your virginity. He knows all the ways to feel good, to make you feel good.

With each thrust, you feel yourself coming close again. “Shit, Drew. I’m close,” you groan, tightening yourself around his dick.

“I’know babe,” he kisses the corner of your eye. “Cum on my dick; I got you.”

He continues his fast pace, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, until you feel a knot in your stomach go undone.

You cum all over his dick, your body giving up now. Drew helps himself, and you feel him twitch inside of you too. His pacing slows, and you feel warm cum entering his condom.

“…You squirted,” you hear him chuckle, as he rests his head on your shoulder.

Oh shit. How embarrassing. You didn't know you were even capable of squirting. Is Drew grossed out by that? Based on his tone, he might not be, but then again-

“That’s…really fucking hot.”

You feel your cheeks go red just because of his compliment, letting go of his hands. You cover your face out of shyness, “shut up.”

You hear him chuckle again, “really…you’re very hot. And beautiful.”

He holds down on your waist as he slowly pulls out of you. You hear him walking across the room; probably to discard his condom. The warmth of him is gone; but a dip on the side of you tells you that he’s laid down on the bed with you.

This man was unbelievable. First, he shamelessly looks at you during dinner, not engaging in any way with you. Second, he comes into your room in the middle of the night, claiming he’s got ‘important’ stuff to tell you. Third, he listens to long, boring stories about your life. Fourth, he fucks you so good you squirt.

Unbelievable.

You pull your hands away from your face, and you turn to face him. He’s already staring at you, his arms resting behind his head.

The two of you just lay in silence; your eyes dancing all over his facial features. He really does look like the guy you lost your virginity to. Same face, same eyes, nose, lips. The resemblance is…uncanny.

“You…” you want to ask him if he’s Drew. The Drew from four years ago.

But you don’t. For some reason, you just can’t. You can’t bring yourself to ask him.

It was a horrible memory; crying at home for days, just because he rejected you. Crying over a guy that you weren’t even together with. It was a stupid memory, that you kept deep in your heart. Eventually, that memory was pushed to the very back with Zack’s help.

“…we just did 69,” you say instead.

That makes him laugh; sending butterflies to your stomach. “Yeah, we did.”

You’re feeling a bit sleepy now; the tiredness of the sex washing over you. Drew suddenly gets up, and for a moment you think that he’s leaving.

But he wasn’t; simply grabbing some tissues on the coffee table. He spreads your legs, and starts wiping the cum off it. “What a gentleman,” you sarcastically comment, even though you were happy he’s cleaning up after; Zack never does.

“The bare minimum, y/n,” he tells you instead, before getting off the bed again, throwing it away.

Huh. You didn’t know; you’ve ever only been with Zack.

He lays down beside you again, but not before pulling the blanket over you. “Tired?”

“Very,” you murmur, your eyelids feeling heavy. You don’t know why you said it, but you just did, “you can stay here.”

“Wasn’t gonna leave anyways,” he replies back almost instantly.

Warmth spreads throughout you, the comfort of Drew just laying beside you was enough to make you fall asleep.

And you do drift off to sleep, with the last thing on your mind being Drew.

Soon enough, Drew falls asleep too, but not before hugging you closely to him.

-------------------------------

word count: 6.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: damn they freaky (69 after four years...freaky bitches)

anyways, this is the longest chapter i've so far ...but i hope you enjoyed part three (there will be part 4!) ignore any mistakes...got real tired towards the end. i want to thank everyone who reads my work, u don't know but means a lot to me<3 also thanks to the person that also thought of the time skip idea...tysm! so...will y/n and drew open up about the past? and... who's zack👀👀

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #fiction #drew starkey x you #mini series #part 3 #strangers to lovers #fluff #angst #smut

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