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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: Eddie's guard is back up after overhearing people gossiping about a secret that only you would know about. When he lets his animosity take over, the damage may be too great to repair.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 3.7k

Chapter 4/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie is still fuming when he pulls into the music store’s parking lot. He’s opening today, and his hands tremble as he fumbles with the keys. All of those parents are going to know that he’s a failure of a father. The Munson reputation clung to him like a bloodsucking leech, regardless of his numerous attempts to shed it. He’s destined to be an outcast at best and a monster at worst.

Finally managing to unlock the door, Eddie flicks on the lights, blanketing the shop in a hazy glow. The silence is deafening, and he swears that his brain will implode if he doesn’t get some background noise. He walks to the section labeled ‘METAL’ as if on autopilot, grabbing Metallica’s Master of Puppets and shoving the cassette into the player. Ash insists that they play classic rock over the crummy little sound system; something about it being ‘palatable’ for the customers, but she’s not here to scold him.

He thinks back to when this album was released, towards the end of his third senior year. The good ol’ days, when I only worried about passing O’Donnell’s class and planning Hellfire campaigns, he thinks wryly. But, no; that isn’t quite true. He’d had to worry about the trailer getting repo’d, or whether he and Wayne could stretch their food stamp budget enough to feed two grown men. Concerns that his uncle had tried to hide from him until he no longer could.

“Ed, you’re eighteen now,” Wayne had said, just one month after Eddie’s birthday, “and I’m gonna need you to start payin’ some bills around here.”

At the time, Eddie thought he was just being a bastard. It wasn’t until a few days later when he’d spotted the envelope marked PAST DUE in bold, red letters that he realized it wasn’t a punishment, but a necessity.

He’d been selling for Rick ever since. Well, until now.

“Battery” fades out to “Master of Puppets,” and Eddie flips the CLOSED sign to read OPEN. He glances at the calluses on his hands and smiles sadly, thinking of all the hours he spent learning the chords in his room. After weeks of non-stop practicing—Hetfield’s solo was a bitch—he’d raced down to Gareth’s garage and played all eight minutes straight through. Watched as his friends’ jaws dropped in awe. Gave him a standing ovation. Told him he was a fucking rockstar.

“You’re a rockstar, all right,” Eddie sarcastically grumbles now, clanging a roll of pennies against the counter before dumping them into the till. “Getting ready to drop your new hit single: Do you want a receipt with that?”

His morning has been nothing short of monotonous: help the customer find what they want, ring them up and make small talk, and then organize (or, in his case, pretend to organize) the store when it’s not busy.

There’s too much down time for him to be left alone with his thoughts. As soon as he has a moment to himself, he’s ruminating on his regrets of the past. He turns up the music volume in a half-hearted attempt to drown them out, but they manage to worm their way into every nook and cranny of his brain.

Eight years ago, a twenty-two year old Eddie Munson left his podunk town of Hawkins, Indiana to pursue rock stardom. He’d driven to Chicago with only the pocket change he’d saved up and his guitar on his back. A big city for a man with even bigger dreams.

It didn’t take him long to realize that being Eddie Munson meant next to nothing in a place that was bursting with musicians desperate for the chance to become famous. He appreciated the anonymity at first; he could blend in without being chased by taunts of Freak or Loser. But after nearly a full year of auditions where he was just another guitarist who could carry a tune, he’d started to lose hope. Prepared to return to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, he’d stopped at the nearby bar for one last drink.

“We can’t go on without a lead singer and guitarist!”

A frantic voice captured his attention, drawing his gaze from the pint of beer in front of him.

“Well, Sam bailed. Again,” another man points out, tone heavy with irritation. “So either we go on without him, or we don’t go on at all.”

Eddie finds himself standing up and walking into a conversation where he was never invited. “I, um, play guitar. And sing?” He winces as it comes out like a question. “I can show you, if you want.” What was he doing? He couldn’t line up a gig to save his life, and now he’s offering to play for some band he doesn’t even know?

The two guys, both about his age, exchange a dubious look. “All right,” says one with shaggy dark hair. “Let’s hear what you got, Guitar Boy.” He hands him his own guitar, and Eddie adjusts the strap before diving headfirst into the chorus of the first song that comes to mind:

If you think I'll sit around as the world goes by You're thinkin' like a fool 'cause it's a case of do or die Out there is a fortune waitin' to be had You think I'll let it go you're mad You've got another thing comin'

The other guy cocks his head, a delighted smirk spreading across his face. “Judas Priest. Solid choice.” He paces a bit, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. You got a name, Guitar Boy?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Eddie Munson.” He sticks out his hand, silently willing it to stop trembling, and shakes theirs.

“I’m Marcus,” the shaggy-haired man says. “This is Bryan. I play backup guitar; he’s on drums. Our bassist should be here soon; his name’s Pete.”

“And Sam was our lead guitarist and singer, but he’s a fucking asshole,” Bryan quips, and Eddie chortles at his brazen attitude. “Anyway, we mostly do covers…check out the setlist and see what you know.” He hands Eddie a crumpled piece of paper, filled with familiar songs and artists.

“I can do any of these,” Eddie says, a satisfied warmth filling his chest as he watches the guys grin even wider.

“Tell ya what,” Bryan says, plopping behind a drum set plastered with a logo reading Hard Knox. “If you don’t suck tonight, you can play with us permanently.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agrees. “We’re gonna be big, man. We just need someone to help us get there.”

“Let me run back to my place and grab my ax,” Eddie tells them, adrenaline propelling him to his apartment. This was it. This was the break he needed. Just as he was about to give up, God or fate or destiny or whoever was finally giving him a chance to prove himself.

The show went off without a hitch; Eddie’s guitar skills bringing a normally quiet audience to their feet. Bryan clapped him on the back as he looked at Pete and Marcus; the three nodding at each other. “Welcome to Hard Knox!” he announced.

“Sam leaving was the best thing to happen to us,” Pete laughs in agreement. A bartender in a tight skirt and fishnet stockings brings over a round of shots, and the four men clink glasses.

“Fuck Sam!” Eddie shouts before taking the drink. The tequila burns as it coats his throat, but he doesn’t dare reach for the lime. No, he has something to prove.

“Fuck Sam!” the rest of the band echoes enthusiastically. Their choral response reminds Eddie of the way Corroded Coffin used to be before he’d left: when he’d say something, Jeff, Gareth, and Danny would listen. He was born to be a leader.

Things started to fall into place. His one night endeavor with Hard Knox turned into a biweekly gig at the bar, which eventually turned into shows almost every night at various venues across the city. He’d even convinced the guys to play some original work of his, reminding them that cover bands don’t get record deals.

He had a steady income. A group of friends who appreciated him and his music. Beautiful women who eagerly threw themselves at him at the end of the show. And then it would repeat the following night in a new place. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Last night’s chaos has you all disheveled; it wasn’t until you got to work this morning that you realized you hadn’t even packed your lunch. You try to convince yourself that you can wait until you get home to eat, but about fifteen minutes before your break, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl.

“I’m gonna run to the deli and grab something,” you tell Will, throwing your jacket over your shoulders and digging out your car keys. “Want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Uh, Tylenol?” he grimaces, rubbing his temples. The kids had music class today, and the sounds of ten preschoolers singing off-key combined with their clashing tambourines served as a recipe for a pounding headache. “And maybe a bag of sour cream and onion chips?”

“You got it.” You shoot him a thumbs-up as you make your way to the parking lot as quickly as possible, determined to get your food before the lunch rush starts.

You manage to just beat out the crowd of hungry nine-to-fivers, grabbing a veggie wrap to-go. Crunching on a cucumber slice as you take a big bite, you start back towards your car, but the music store next door catches your eye.

A check of your watch confirms that you have a few minutes to peruse, maybe grab a copy of the new Toni Braxton cassette you’d been wanting. If there was ever a day to treat yourself to a little gift, it’s today. Your mind is foggy and your body feels like it’s dragging sandbags as you make your way over. You knew that taking care of an ailing relative would be physically demanding, but you weren’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Seeing your grandma helplessly laying on the bathroom floor scared drew all of the oxygen from your lungs, filling your body with worry. And just a few hours later, she was furiously swearing at you, claiming to hate you. She’s an ever-swinging pendulum, and you’re downright exhausted.

A small glob of hummus lands on your lower lip, and your tongue licks it off haphazardly as you push open the door to the music store. The jingle of the bell is meant to alert the employees that a customer has entered, but when you look around, there’s no one there to help you.

You walk towards the aisle labeled R&B, starting by thumbing through the “B” section–nothing. Perplexed, you make your way to the “T” section, still with no luck. Was Toni Braxton so popular amongst Hawkins residents that they’d bought out every copy of Secrets?

“You can’t eat in here,” a terse voice calls out. You’re so startled, you nearly drop your sandwich. A piece of tomato flies out of the tortilla when you jump, hitting the linoleum flooring, and the irritated person sighs. “Aaand this is why.”

You pick up the fallen vegetable and turn around to see Eddie Munson standing before you. “You scared me!” you say, but your body visibly relaxes. Twenty-four hours ago, you never would have guessed that he would have a calming effect on you. How quickly things can change, you muse silently. “Can you help me find the new Toni Braxton? The Secrets cassette?”

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you follow simple instructions? No. Eating. In. The. Store.” He rolls his eyes. “Just because you teach preschoolers doesn’t mean you get to act like one.”

The smile that briefly danced across your lips slips into a frown. What the hell happened in the few hours since he’d dropped Harris off at school? Did you imagine that you two had gotten along?

“Are you okay?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I can put the wrap in my car, just give me a sec…”

He shakes his head. “No, actually, I’m not okay,” he sneers. “But I bet you knew that already.” He shifts his posture so he’s standing a bit taller. “Y’know, you have some fuckin’ nerve, coming in here after what you did.”

“Did I miss something?” Your voice gets smaller with the gnawing feeling of brewing confrontation acting as a brick on your chest. “I thought–”

“Tell me what you thought,” he interrupts, leaning on a box of tapes. “Wait, no; let me guess. You thought that because I rejected you, you could go around blabbing my personal business around the school.” He scrunches up his face, biting his lip as he looks at you. “Did I get it right?”

“Your personal business?”

“Mhm,” he answers pointedly, spinning a skull ring around his finger. “Is that not it? Was it because you were embarrassed that I heard your grandma say that she hates you? I don’t blame her, by the way.”

Your force your gaze to remain trained on him, staring into his brown eyes that have hardened with fury. “She doesn’t hate me,” you breathe out, “she just can’t remember me anymore. When she knew who I was, she loved me. A lot.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t take away from the fact that everyone and their goddamn dog knows about the CPS report.”

“What CPS report?” you ask, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. “Is Harris okay?”

He takes one look at your puzzled expression and barks out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? You can drop the innocent act.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!” you snap, frustrated at his unwillingness to hear you out and your own lack of understanding. “All I know is that this morning, you didn’t hate me–or maybe just hated me a little less–and now you’re back to being the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

Eddie scratches at the shadow of a beard that’s formed on his jawline; an itchy reminder that he didn’t get to shave last night. “You should consider yourself lucky if I’m the worst person you’ve ever met. Tell me, what have I done? Thrown some insults your way?” He claps his palm to his chest exaggeratedly. “How ever did you survive?”

“Mock me and my teaching skills, pretend like you’re going to call when you knew damn well that you weren’t, call me a bitch, and your latest and greatest,” you counter, ticking off the instances on your fingers, “accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

He considers this for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “So you’re trying to tell me,” he starts, gritting his teeth, “that we were in the same wing of the same hospital at the same time, but you weren’t the one who told people about the CPS case they opened on me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you hiss.

“Then how the fuck did Carol Perkins find out about it?!” His volume raises to a roar, and you wince at the sting it leaves echoing in your eardrums. “Because I fucking heard her talking about it with Steve Harrington! So if you, the person who was there, didn’t open your mouth and tell her, who did? The CPS fairy?”

“I don’t fucking know!” you shout, swallowing thickly in a meager attempt to bide time before the tears inevitably leak from your eyes. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his frizzy curls, smacking the other on top of the nearby box. “Just…just get out,” he mutters. “I can’t listen to any more of your bullshit.” He starts back towards a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY before turning back around, eyes narrowed.

“Y’know, I wouldn’t have hooked up with you that night if I knew that this is how you handle a one-night stand,” he says, pursing his lips as he steps closer to you. “And I never should’ve let Harris step foot in your classroom. I would drive him to a school in goddamn Timbuktu if it meant having you out of my life.” He pauses, scraping his teeth across his lower lip and exhaling a terse laugh. “It’s too bad I can’t forget about you like your grandma did.”

The words knock the wind out of your lungs. Your knees buckle slightly, and you have to steady yourself on the closest shelf. Tears blur your vision as your legs carry you out of the store; you feel yourself walking, but it’s like an external force has control of your body. The words fuck you sit on the tip of your tongue, or maybe you say them—it’s too hazy to tell. The world is covered in a shiny layer of cellophane; you can see everything, but you can’t touch.

You’re crying too hard to drive, so you sit behind the wheel, seatbelt clicked in place, letting out sobs that leave your whole body shuddering. It’s all too much, and though you logically know that Grandma didn’t want to forget you, his comment hit a raw nerve.

It wasn’t a straight path; Alzheimer’s never is. A few months ago, she could remember you in the morning but forgot you by the afternoon. She would call you by name at 9 AM but ask who you were at 2 PM. One day you were her granddaughter; the next, you were a total stranger. You thought it couldn’t hurt more than it already did, but the repeated reminders that she no longer recognizes you at all is a constant knife through the heart.

You’ll be late if you don’t start driving back to work now, so you turn the key in the ignition and adjust the gear shift to reverse. As you look up to glance in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of him. He’s dumbfounded, and you could laugh at how ridiculous it is that it took him seeing you bawling in your car to realize that he went too far this time.

Unable to stomach the thought of further confrontation, you take a deep breath and drive away, leaving him to mull over what just happened.

He’d assumed you’d left already when he’d walked outside for a smoke break, placing a cigarette between trembling fingers before he’d even left the store. He almost drops the lighter on his scuffed sneaker when he sees you hunched over, resting your arms on the wheel as your body heaves. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring when you lift your head, exposing tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Your gazes lock for just a millisecond, but it tells him everything he needs to know.

It wasn’t you.

When Eddie arrives at the school for pick-up, he scours the crowd of impatient parents for Carol. He finds her talking with another mom; no doubt spreading more gossip about him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended that their Satanic cult rumors didn’t bother him when they were back in high school. Maybe if they knew, they would understand that he’s just a goddamn person trying his best, just like everyone else.

“Hey,” he starts, pushing the fear from his voice and willing his strength to remain unwavering. “Who told you about the CPS stuff?”

Carol plasters an obviously fake smile on her face as she responds. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says simply. Her carefree tone pushes Eddie to his limit.

“Cut the bullshit,” Eddie growls, quickly losing his temper. “I heard you talking to Steve Harrington about it. So either you tell me now, or I’ll make sure your husband knows about that guy I saw you with at the Hideout a couple of months ago.”

Her face blanches, color draining from her cheeks. “It was Jason Carver,�� she mumbles, biting her thumbnail. “His wife, Chrissy, is a nurse at the hospital and saw the report. She told him, and he’s been telling, well, everyone else.”

Eddie swears that steam is billowing out of his ears. Everything is coated in a red haze, and he finds himself unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists. “Where is that sonofabitch? I’m gonna punch him in his smug little–”

“Mr. Munson?” you cut through his rant. His head snaps in your direction. You’ve fixed your makeup; if Eddie hadn’t seen you crying earlier, he would’ve been none the wiser. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. “Actually, I needed to tell you someth–”

“I think you’ve said enough today,” you say, voice calm but firm. “I just wanted to give this to you before Harris comes out.” You hand him a pink piece of paper. “It’s a transfer slip. Starting next week, Harris will be in Ms. Marion’s class. I didn’t tell him anything about it, so you can say whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.” That’s not quite true; the idea of Eddie feeding Harris lies about you makes your stomach curdle, but there’s only so much you can control.

Eddie’s, usually quick with a retort, is uncharacteristically quiet. “I, um, I thought…the secretary told me that all of the classes were full.” It’s a cop-out, but he can’t push himself to tell you what he knows now. Not when you’re already bruised.

“They made an exception because I was the one who requested it this time,” you explain, clenching your jaw. “Looks like you got your wish. You can forget about me now.”

He takes the paper and shoves it in his back pocket. The confession is on the tip of his tongue, an apology not far behind. Say it, he berates himself. Just fucking say it. You might be able to fix this if you just—

“I’ll go get Harris,” you tell him, breaking into his thoughts. “Good-bye, Mr. Munson.”

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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thepixelelf · 1 year

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Oh Baby, You - svt smau

The birth of your son three years ago was what caused your breakup with Wonwoo, your longtime (and at that point, long distance) partner. Now, you're getting concerned that Orion is starting to look a lot like his dad, but that's not your only problem. Wonwoo is back… and he's living across the hall.

Genres: smau, romance, drama, comedy, angst, single parent au

Pairing: jeon wonwoo x afab they/she reader x mystery member(s)

Warnings: coarse language, conversations about sex, mentions of pregnancy, mama/mom/mother is used to refer to reader's parental status sometimes, infidelity, light alcoholism, miscommunication as a plot device, some of the teenies are not so nice at times, slut shaming, angst, everything is unrealistically dramatic because this is basically a kdrama in text/twitter form. warnings may be updated as they come, but I will label chapters properly if it's anything major

Note: unfortunately, I did have to make the mc for this series have female reproductive organs because, well... that's the plot. I couldn't find a good way around it :( if anyone reading this is discouraged, please know that pretty much every other fic I've ever posted is gender neutral. So, if you think you might've liked this smau, please check out my masterlist! hopefully there will be something you like there :) ALSO! if anyone makes fun of Orion's name just know that it's the name of a precious baby cousin of mine and if you bully smau Orion you are bullying irl Orion!! do not touch him!!!

(new!) Updates will post when I have the time and motivation

The taglist is full! Leave a comment under the post linked here if you're not on the main taglist to be notified when Oh Baby, You is completed.

Profiles I: Orion's Prettyboy(gn) Posse

Profiles II: Wonwoo's Famous Friend and the Other Guys

Profiles III: Gyu and the Rise of Capitalism

1. Everybody Loves Vernon

2. Tens Among Tens

3. Grown Ass Men

4. I Hate This FUcking Family

5. The Ones Keeping Secrets

6. A LITTLE Curious

7. You Go Girl Get His Ass

8. The Calm

9. The Storm

10. It's Been a While

11. Fucked Up Coincidences

12. Not... a BAD Guy

13. Still So Affected

14. Just My Type

15. Nothing to Hide

16. Fists Up

17. Act Natural

18. Girl, They Blocked You

19. Plot Relevance

20. Actually it is a Date

21. It's All Pretty Confusing

22. Scripted

23. All it Takes is a Smile

24. Yoon Jeonghan is Watching

25. Completely Surrounded

26. No Such Thing

27. What Does That Mean

28. A Name I've Heard Recently

29. Can't Risk It

30. Errand Day

31. One Day at a Time

32. Confrontation

33. Not Looking to be a Parent Any Time Soon

34. What if I

35. For This Little Guy

36. Get Blocked

37. I'll Take Care of You

38. Messed Up, Stupid, and Jaded

39. You Fucked Up

40. That's For You to Figure Out

41. Need to Try Something

42. Recovery Mission?

43. Your Everything

44. You're Cute When You're Like This

45. Not Sponsored

46. This is Nothing

47. Promise? Promise

48. Hhrk

49. A Busy Afternoon

50. Cherry

51. Don't Freak Out

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OBY Ask the Characters Game

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jeonqkooks · 8 months

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our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @wintaerbaer for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere.

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house.

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married.

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great.

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met.

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky.

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace.

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground.

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks.

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go.

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back. [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.” You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement.

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge.

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him.

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him. His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening.

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

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directdogman · 3 months

Note

Hello Hound!! Since it's Dialtown's 2nd anniversary, I've been planning up a few "general" related questions about your series that I've been meaning to ask, but I decided to save them up for the big day because why not? Anyways, here's what I've got, these were meant to be fun to answer so don't sweat it :]

1: How do you feel about Dialtown's success? Are you proud of how far you've come?

2: Which character was the MOST fun for you to write, and which was the most PAINFUL?

3: What is something you wish more people would talk about or just know about related to Dialtown in general?

4: If you had the opportunity to write a FULL complete, detailed life story of any of your characters, who would that be?

5: What's a character you wish you could have given more screen-time or just in general content? (Considering iirc you were trying to make sure Dialtown wasn't TOO long, so I was wondering if this ever came to mind)

6: From what I know, you've been doing the job of cosplaying several characters in the game and acting out their sprites, which one was the most fun to act out?

7: Speaking of sprites, do you have a sprite you could consider your favorite, out of ALL your characters?

8: Do you have a specific line of dialogue you could consider your favorite throughout the entire game?

9: Could you ever see Dialtown expanding into perhaps sequels or maybe even prequels? More DLCs mayhaps? Heck, maybe even a Dialtown 2 or a Chapter 4??

10: If you could make any fan-made interpretation (such as headcanons, designs, or ships) canon if given the opportunity, what do you think would be your pick?

11: What was the MOST fun part about developing Dialtown? Coming up with new characters? Writing them? Adding all the bizarre dialogue options?

12: And last but not least — on a scale of 1-10, how fun was developing Dialtown just in general?

That's all I have for now, and I'm really excited to see your answers!!

I normally don't answer this many questions, but... alright, sure, tis the season!

1: How do you feel about Dialtown's success? Are you proud of how far you've come?

Yeah, of course! I'm a lil proud, admittedly, but I'm aware of how comically little I really have to do with it all, even if I did make the game. Luck does play a LOT into it, of course. Granted, I made my share of predictions that wound up being useful, but it always comes down to lady luck at the end of the day. I've seen good projects fail and bad ones go viral. It's really all just a hodgepodge of probability and whimsy. That being said, I am very pleased with DT's success, and the community that's formed around the game! It caught me by surprise!

2: Which character was the MOST fun for you to write, and which was the most PAINFUL?

Gingi's always fun to write. And Mingus. Most painful is tough to say. Maybe Crown. I got a little weird when I wrote his full backstory, kinda caught up in the emotion Norm talks about. Never been a fan of stories getting cut short. You gotta wonder what would've happened if he'd made different choices, y'know?

3: What is something you wish more people would talk about or just know about related to Dialtown in general?

Honestly? Karen, probably. She's super underrated for sure. The fandom still loves her, but she doesn't get the same kind of attention as Oliver, Gingi, Randy, Norm. She's worth it.

4: If you had the opportunity to write a FULL complete, detailed life story of any of your characters, who would that be?

Oh, I already have. I have this monstruous 30-40 page document detailing Crown's life and entire career. It's quite a read. and quite a mind-fuck if you don't know Dialtown's universe too well.

Oh yeah, a few characters had scenes that were cut. Stabby, Shooty, Mingus, Bunny, even Bigfoot! There's also the game's cut 6th datable, who was an interesting character with ties to other characters in the cast who I wanted to do more with. Ah, maybe one day.

6: From what I know, you've been doing the job of cosplaying several characters in the game and acting out their sprites, which one was the most fun to act out?

Bigfoot. I made the ape noises in the suit. Had to. It felt right.

7: Speaking of sprites, do you have a sprite you could consider your favorite, out of ALL your characters?

I quite like Norm's set, Mingus' too. Karen's poses too are quite good.

8: Do you have a specific line of dialogue you could consider your favorite throughout the entire game?

That answer probably changes every day. I like pretty much any scene where Mingus loses her temper.

9: Could you ever see Dialtown expanding into perhaps sequels or maybe even prequels? More DLCs mayhaps? Heck, maybe even a Dialtown 2 or a Chapter 4??

I'd love to make sequels one day! I've got a lot of ideas for where the characters/story would end up. By the time DT1 wrapped up, I'd conceptualized way too much stuff to put in one game (without it taking another few years to finish), so if I ever wanted to make sequels, I'd 100% know where to start! But, that's a later down the road conversation.

For now, I'm gonna keep working on the Roger DLC and if there's demand for more, I can go from there :)

10: If you could make any fan-made interpretation (such as headcanons, designs, or ships) canon if given the opportunity, what do you think would be your pick?

I guess I COULD do that with, like, anything. Nothing immediately springs to mind, since, y'know, I'm in control of the canon anyway. I will say, I've seen headcanons and theories that ARE scarily accurate to canon, to the point where I've feared people would just think I'm lifting stuff from the fanbase! It's a good thing I talk about these things with collaborators, huh? I've got a PAPER-TRAIL!!!

11: What was the MOST fun part about developing Dialtown? Coming up with new characters? Writing them? Adding all the bizarre dialogue options?

Finishing a new scene and realizing how stupidly long it was (without me realizing it) was always a treat. But yeah, writing the characters had to be it. Specifically any scene where a character the audience knows meets someone the audience doesn't know well (or at all), with the dynamic changing. Those are fun to write.

12: And last but not least — on a scale of 1-10, how fun was developing Dialtown just in general?

Hard question to answer. I do really wanna give a high number, but truthfully, a lot of game dev actually isn't super 'fun'. Some tasks are, granted, but many parts are a slog. Sitting and formatting dialogue, and then adding text pauses and pose changes isn't exactly a super thrilling activity. The engine itself also has some issues which I have to work around that adds to the workplace. Play-testing a scene for the 4th time isn't super fun either, or trying to figure out why the game crashes on some PCs and ONLY very rarely... Those tasks are Sisyphean to some degree.

...But, while most of those parts aren't fun, it's all still rewarding. There's a sense of accomplishment when you finish a scene. You get to look back at your hard work, remember the hours you spent typing dialogue into a text box and formatting mass amounts of pngs, painstakingly + manually getting the game's awful pre-loader to deal with the sprites right, etc... and suddenly, at the end, you've got this lil experience that people can play and enjoy. Somehow, the sum of all of those not so fun activities has created something that's going to make people laugh, feel happy. That's special. and even if some parts of development weren't super fun on their own, that's always what I remember. That in the end, all of those not so fun days mattered.

The route I agonized the most over was Oliver's. I went through a few weeks of writer's block, and now, it's one of the most popular routes in the game! Crazy how that happens. I was SURE for about a week that people would rank the route at the bottom! That's what I mean, all of the stress I went through trying to figure it out amounted to something people connected with! To think I almost CUT the route entirely!!!

And y'know, God knows Dialtown gave me something to throw myself at during a time where I REALLY needed the outlet. I'm very grateful to the project for that. So, I'll give DT an honorary 8 out of 10, even if it wasn't a consistently 8/10 experience making it heh heh! Sure glad I did, though and I'm very glad if any of you reading this had a really good time playing it! :)

Thanks for the questions!

189 notes · View notes

writing-blog-iguess · 3 months

Text

Online Matchup 8

Summery: It’s Halloween and y/n’s hosting a party that she doesn’t even want. But not to fear, Jason’s there with an escape plan.

Warning: mistakes, alcohol, tipsy!reader, tired Jason, Ellie’s done with her siblings bullshit.

A/N: So sorry for the wait. I got overwhelmed with how many wips I have and stopped writing for a bit, and it doesn’t help that I don’t have internet. So, that’s fun. Hope you enjoy though! Chapter nine should be on its way soon.

Feedback is welcomed!

ao3 Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7

——————

October 31

Ellie (7:30 am)

YOU WENT TO A GALA

WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND

AND DIDN’T TELL ME

Y/N

Not my boyfriend

Shouldn’t you be in school?

Ellie

Not yet anyways

Don’t worry about it

So?

Y/N

It was two days ago, Ellie

It was a last minute decision

Didn’t really have time to tell you anything

Ellie

Could have told me after

Or yesterday

But no, I find out from Conner who found out from Clark

Y/N

Who?

Ellie

Clark Kent

Conner’s uncle

Also Bruce Wayne’s best friend but I have doubts

Y/N

How? You’ve never met Bruce

Ellie

True, but the stories Conner told me about

Anyways, we’re not talking about that

We’re talking about you and going out with Jason

Looking all fancy and rubbing elbows with the rich

Y/N

Did you have to word it like that?

Ellie

Did you meet his family?

Y/N

…

Ellie

YOU DID

Tell me, are they as intimidating as Conner makes them out to be?

Y/N

They’re all dorks and you would fit right in

Trust me

They’re very curious and protective of Jason

But they’re good people

I like them

Ellie

Don’t let Jason hear you say that

Or he might think you’ll leave him

Y/N

Ellie, what the fuck

Ellie

That wasn’t me I swear

Y/N

Fuck off conner

If you want to talk to me use your own phone

Ellie

This is the type of relationship you two have, isn't it?

Y/N

You’ll have no peace, sorry

Ellie

Damn

So, how'd it go?

Y/N

Fine

His brothers hounded me with questions

Bruce made a speech about jason

And then we left to get some burgers

Ellie

You’re the worst at telling stories

Y/N

I don’t know what you want me to say

Ellie

You’re feelings about how in love you are with Jason

Y/N

I’m not having this conversation with Conner reading over your shoulder

Ellie

Boo you’re no fun

Y/N

Suck it Ellie

Jason (1:39 pm)

How’s it going today?

Y/N

I am not the biggest fan of Halloween

I’ve had three different people scare me today on campus

Tripped over some decorations

And my friend is bugging me for a key so she can decorate my apartment once her last class is finished

I don’t know why she needs my key, she has her own

Jason

Yikes

Y/N

Yikes doesn’t even cover half of it

I’m half tempted to hide in the library and not go to the party

Jason

But it’s your apartment

Y/n

That’s the worst thing!

I shouldn’t have agreed to throwing it there

I want sleep

Jason

I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep at a normal time

Y/N

You’re one to talk

You’re up at the oddest hours

I’m not surprised anymore when you text me at like 2 in the morning

Jason

Fair

You can always come sleep with me when you’ve had enough

Y/n

Sir, I’m not that kind of person

Jason

That is not what I meant

You know that

Y/n

Do I though?

Jason

Y/n I swear to god

Y/n

They’re your words, Jason

Do better

Jason

Sometimes, I hate

Y/n

No you don’t

Jason

No I don’t

What I mean is, you can always stay the night at my place.

To sleep, can even have the couch since that’s were you sleep most of the time

Y/n

I want to be offended

But your right

Jason

Aren’t I always?

Y/n

With the party in full swing, and friends practically drunk, you hadn’t had the chance to look at your phone.

Now hiding in your room a few hours later, you grabbed it and went through your notifications. Nothing too important until you said Jason’s text asking to call you. But it was sent at five, and you were pretty sure he meant then instead of now.

But curiosity got the better of you, and you called.

“Hey Jason,” Barbara’s voice cut through the line, distracting Jason a little. He grunted in reply, and retreated behind the dumpster. “Someone named Y/N is calling. What do you want me to do?”

“Put it through,” Jason answered, looking around the dumpster to see how many were left. Three were left, shouldn’t be a problem.

“Are you sure?”

“It’ll be fine,” he said and Barbara hummed before connecting the call. “Hey Little Bird. What’s up?”

“I don’t know, you were the one who wanted me to call you,” you answered. Jason furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t think so,” he said, moving to shoot the one standing up. He winced at the sound and hoped you didn’t hear it.

“Mm, pretty sure you did,” you said, and he heard movement from your end. As if you moved the one on away from your face. “Yeah, seven-forty you said call me.”

“That was four hours ago,” he reminded, and smiled when you laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with a party and all,” you said and he can picture you shrugging. “This a bad time?”

He took a moment to answer as he ducked down when the other two started shooting. “Uh, don’t know.”

“Is that…is someone shooting at you?” you asked and he grimaced at the question. So much for keeping you out of this. “Jason, are you okay?”

“No, there’s no shooting. And I’m fine,” he grunted out, letting out a noise when he felt something hit his shoulder. When did he move? He faintly heard you saying something, but wasn’t quite sure. Ducking behind something else, he took a deep breath before saying, “you don’t do parties.”

“No, I don’t,” you agreed, “but, as I said, my friend is hosting the Halloween party at my place tonight.”

“It’s Halloween?” he found himself asking.

“It is. Jason, are you sure you're okay?” you asked, concern dripping in your voice.

“Peachy,” he said, staying down as the other two started shooting him. Where was the backup when you needed it? “So, how’s the party anyways? Sounds like you're having fun.”

He heard you sniff and could picture you sticking your nose in the air. “I am not having fun,” you said dryly.

“You sure? You sound drunk,” he said and laughed when you squawked.

“I don't get drunk.” Jason hummed and let the silence stretch out before you begrudgingly added, “okay. Maybe maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Thought so,” he said, “just go to bed.”

“I can’t,” you grumble, and Jason can picture you looking at your bed longingly.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Jason, there’s a full blown party out there and I can’t sleep knowing people are trying to get in my room for a hookup.”

“Tell me you locked the doors.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jason. But that doesn’t stop them from trying to get in. Four tries since I called, and each time I tell them that the room is busy.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Okay yeah, but I want to sleep. I’m tired.”

“If you give me twenty minutes I’ll come by to pick you up.”

“Mm, tempting. But I’m also tempted to sneak out and go to the cafe where we first met.”

“You’re not leaving the apartment alone this late at night.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I sure as hell can try.”

“I don’t see how, given that you’re probably across town.”

“I swear to god.”

You could have sworn you heard someone laughing, but in your drunken state you weren’t sure. “Well, I mean I could make you swear for a different purpose.”

There was a choking noise coming from Jason and you smiled. “Who knew you were a flirty drunk.”

“Not drunk, tipsy,” you reminded, and slowly opened your window, hoping Jason couldn’t hear it.

“Same thing in my books,” he said. You swore when the window creaked and stilled. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said a little too quickly.

“That sounded like a window opening,” Jason claimed, “please tell me you aren’t escaping through the window.”

“How do you know what a window opening sounds like?”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this?”

“I mean, it’s not everyday you learn that someone knows what a window sounds like when someone opens it.”

“Did you open the window?” Jason asked, and you stayed quiet but it was an answer all the same. “Why?”

“Well I mean, there’s a fire escape like right there,” you defended, holding your phone between your cheek and shoulder. With both hands, you pushed open the window. “Ha!”

“Y/N,” Jason sighed out and you could picture him pinching his nose. Kind of like a dad when he sees his child do something stupid and questioning why they are like this. You wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about you, but you don’t care too much about that right now. “If you're going to do something like this, then keep me on the phone.”

“But won’t I disturb your family movie night?” you ask as you giggle the window screen off and slide it into your room. Once placed on the ground, you grab your keys and wallet before climbing through the window.

“I’m not watching a movie,” Jason said, confused.

“But I heard gunshots,” you reminded him, “it sounded like some western film.”

“Oh,” he said like he had forgotten. You paused on the steps, and looked up in concern when he didn’t say anything else.

“So you were getting shot at,” you questioned. Jason made a noise and you continued down the fire escape.

“No, no one was shooting at me,” Jason said, “brothers were playing a game, guess it was too loud.” You hummed as you concentrated on walking down the steps. “So, did you escape?”

“Do you want me to answer that truthfully?”

“You are, aren’t you?” Jason asked, sighing deeply.

“It’s a lot sturdier than you’d expect.”

“You say that like you’ve done this multiple times.”

“I like to sit outside sometimes,” you defended, “and sometimes I am too tired to go to the roof.”

“Why not just open a window?”

“Not the same,” you replied and kept going down the stairs.

“There’s no stopping you, huh?” Jason voiced and you kept quiet. “Just keep me on the phone while you're out at least.”

“I can do that…as long as my phone doesn’t die.”

“Do you ever charge your phone?”

“…yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jason teased, and you stuck out your tongue even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll meet you at the cafe as soon as I can.”

“Might want to hurry, I think I’m going to sleep there if they let me.”

“I have no doubt,” Jason said, laughing.

“Your confidence in me is astounding.”

Your phone ended up dying halfway to the cafe, and Jason wasn’t going to let you live it down. No matter, you were almost there Jason was sure of it.

Quickly tying up the thugs he’s been dealing with while on the phone with you, Jason sent a message to Barbara before leaving.

“What? Done already?” Her basics filtered through the earpiece, surprised. “You’re never done this early. Got a date or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, starting his bike.

“Oh, come Jason!” Barbara exclaimed, “everyone else practically met them. It’s only fair that I know more. I did help you with your dating profile,” she reminded him.

Jason groaned and hung his head in defeat. “Fine! Fine,” he sighed out, ignoring the cheering in his ear. “Yes, I’m going to meet up with them after I’ve changed.”

“But I thought you were going to be out all night,” she said, “given that Y/n’s busy too.”

“Yeah, well. Plans change.”

“Are they okay?”

“Just a little tipsy and isn’t much for party’s. They just left for a cafe near town. Even though they didn’t listen when I told them not to and to wait for me. They insisted they go. So I told them I’d meet them there. Happy?”

“Extremely,” she sang, “and I’ll be even more happy when I get to meet them.”

“I will bring it up. Promise.”

“So, what was it? The motorcycle picture or the puppy that did it for the ?” Barbara teased, and Jason rolled his eyes.

“No idea, but feel free to ask when you two finally meet.”

“I have every intention to and share some stories of my own,” Barbara said and laughed as Jason groaned.

“Oh no.”

“Have fun,” she sang before signing off. Jason shook his head, and rode off back to his apartment.

A short while later, after he dropped by his apartment, he made his way to the cafe.

Parking his bike near the entrance of the building, he got off and looked through the window to see if he could spot you. He didn’t, and frowned hoping you made it safe.

Taking his helmet off, he made his way inside.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” one of the barista’s called when he walked in.

“Traffic,” he explained, looking around. “Is Y/N here?”

He heard a sigh, and a thump from behind the counter. He turned his head to see a barista when her head was on the counter. “You okay?”

“Don’t mind her,” her coworker answered, waving his hand. “She’s just had to sit and listen to Y/N complain about school and how you were taking so long.”

“Right,” he hummed and looked towards the talk he was directed at. And there you were, head down using your arms as a pillow.

“She’s so tired it’s unreal,” May, after a quick look at her nag tag, groaned. “I can’t wait for Christmas break. That way, they can take a fucking break and sleep he break away. Between school and working, it feels like they don’t sleep.”

Jason hummed and made his way towards your table. “Hey,” he whispered once he reached you and gently placed a hand on your head. You stirred, barely lifted your head up. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“But there’s still a party there,” you groaned out, nuzzling further into your arms. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Okay. Counter offer, come to my place. Sleep there, it looks like you need it.”

That had gotten your attention as you lifted your head to glare at him. “Sir, you know just what to say to sweep a girl off their feet.”

Jason laughed and helped you up. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you get some sleep. Promise.”

“Mm,” you hummed, clutching his hand as you followed him outside, waving at the two friends as you passed by. “Bike?”

“What else?”

“It’s cold out,” you pointed out, sticking your tongue out as he set the helmet onto your head.

“Yeah, it keeps you awake though.”

“But it’s cold.”

“Why didn’t you bring your jacket?”

“It was not in the room when I made my escape,” you said, watching as he climbed onto the bike. You followed once he sat, and snaked your arms around his waist, settling your chin on his shoulder.

“You make it sound like you were held against your will,” he said, chuckling when you made a noise, stating that you practically were. “Alright, hold on tight.” That was your last warning, before he started the bike and took off.

You watched the city lights as Jason drove, in awe. You found, since moving to Gotham, that Gotham nights were much more pretty and peaceful then Metropolis. Granted, It wasn’t really safe with all the fighting and toxic gas’s being dispelled by the villain of the week. But it had its charm you fell in love with.

You shivered slightly as the cold air blew past you and felt Jason pick up the speed a little. You couldn’t help but smile at the tiny gesture. He was right though, the cold air does keep you awake.

Watching the lights whiz by, letting your mind wonder. Mat wasn’t kidding when she said you don’t sleep. Between classes, work and your personal projects, you’ve kind of neglected sleep in order to focus on everything else.

Sure, you get a couple hours of sleep, and naps. But it isn’t enough and it’s starting to take its toll on you. Sighing deeply, you tightened your grip and closed your eyes. Christmas break couldn’t come sooner.

You felt the bike slow, causing you to open your eyes. You waited until he parked and shut it off before climbing off. “That was thrilling,” you mumble out through a yawn.

“Would you like another ride?” Jason asked, helping you take off the helmet.

“Definitely,” you answered with a nod, “though maybe when it’s warmer and I’m not prone to fall off your bike due to sleep deprivation.”

Jason laughed, and tugged you into the building. “That’s fair. Now, let’s get you something to drink and eat before getting you to bed.”

“Sounds nice,” you said sleepily. “Is your couch comfy? I feel like it might not be.”

“Now that’s just mean,” he said, stopping short in front of his door. You nearly bumped into him and groaned out his name. “Sorry, but you might need to stay out here for a bit.”

“Did you leave your dirty laundry out or something?” you asked, rubbing your nose. You stepped back all the same instead of pushing it.

“Something like that,” he answered and you watched him unlock the door and stepped in. He closed it quickly, not giving you a chance to look inside. You shrugged and looked around the dimly lit hallway before turning to lean your back on the wall beside the door.

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall with a small thump. It was strange, being at Jason’s apartment for the first time. And to sleep instead of being awake and hanging out. But you were giddy all the same.

Yes, you trusted Jason not to do anything with you. And you liked him enough to be okay with sleeping over at his place. It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same place. And just remembering how warm you felt with Jason’s arms around you sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Alright, it’s safe to come in,” Jason’s sudden voice beside you made you jump slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were sleeping.”

“Not sleeping,” you said, pushing him back in as you walked through the door. “Just resting my eyes.”

Jason hummed and put his hands on your shoulder and steered you into the kitchen. He gently made you sit, before setting a cup of water and a plate of toast in front of you. “Slowly. The. You can have a shower and change out of…whatever costume you have on.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Some would say I’m not.”

“Then they can fight me,” you said, taking a bite out. “And how dare you. Not recognizing the greatest hero of all.”

Jason looked you over slowly, and you tried not to flush. “Yeah, I'm still not getting it.”

“Wonder Women,” you said through another bite of toast. “Sure, it’s not the greatest costume. But it’s the thought that counts.”

“Would you like a change of clothes? I doubt it would be comfy to sleep in.”

“If you don’t mind,” you said with a smile. “I would appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, kissing the top of your head before leaving the room. You flushed slightly and finished the rest of your food. It felt all so normal, like you did this everyday. And that thought made you giddy.

“Okay, the sweatpants might be a little big and so is the shirt. But they should be fine.”

“Thanks Jason. That means a lot,” you said, getting up to hug him. He returned it with a smile and shooed you into the bathroom.

Once showered and dressed, you walked out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. “Jason?”

“In here,” he called and you followed the voice until you reached the bedroom. “This is your room for the night.”

“I thought I was taking the couch,” you question, leaning against the doorframe, watching as he was getting it ready.

Jason snorted and gave you a look. “Please, I would never do that to you. Besides, it’s not as comfortable as the bed.”

“So you’re going to take the couch?” Jason nodded, and you bit your lip in thought. And before you could change your mind, you bit out, “or, now hear me out. We could share the bed. It’s not like it’s happened before.” You're blaming the alcohol for it, and you can't regret it.

Jason looked up at you with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I’m sure. We’re just sleeping right? The worst that can happen is cuddling in the middle of the night.”

“Okay,” he laughed and with that, the two of you climbed into bed. You were more tired than you thought, you fell asleep the minute your head hit the pillow.

For Jason, it took a lot longer for sleep to reach him. He turned over, and looked at you for a moment before slipping his arm underneath you. With his other, he wrapped it around your waist and pulled you closer. And only then he could fall asleep, but not with the thought of how dangerous this could be.

But he found that he didn’t care.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd gn!reader #online match up #jason todd #my writing #batman imagine #jason todd imagine

98 notes · View notes

musings-of-a-rose · 28 days

Text

Jump Then Fall - Chapter 4

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 5000

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Well, we've finally reached the end! I'm so sorry this took forever to get out. I really do love these 2 and would welcome any asks about them! When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30 but in this part, Javier is 36 and Vanessa is 25.

**Shoutout to @vanemando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

--If you like this, please let the algorithm know by reblogging! This way it can be shared with multiple people (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Chapter 3<<

I don't see him until lunch the next day as he and Chucho had run into town for a few things. They both come in with some grocery bags and set them on the counter.

"They were out of broccoli so I got green beans. Will that work?" Chucho asks as he hands me a bag of fresh cut green beans.

I take them with a smirk. "Why do I get the feeling they weren't out and you just didn't want to eat the broccoli?"

"She's got you there, pops." Javier chuckles as Chucho punches his arm.

"Pendejo."

"Alright, alright. Get cleaned up and I'll make you both some lunch. Extra broccoli for you, old man."

Chucho hides a smile, grumbling as he heads upstairs to his bathroom. Javier stays in the kitchen with me, helping to unload the bags.

"New relaxation thing?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?"

I gesture towards his mouth. "The chewing gum."

"Oh. Nope. Giving up the other one. I'm trying the Nicorette thing."

I close the refrigerator door and look at him. "Really?"

He shrugs. "It's a nasty habit, or so I'm told."

I turn away from him quickly, trying to hide the warmth creeping up at face at his use of my words.

"Well that person must be very smart to say that."

"I think so."

-------

I don't find the time to tell him the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Despite having a lot of chances to. Javier always finds his way to me around the house, chatting and asking me questions. I try to ask him some too, but his eyes grow dark and distant and he shuts in on himself, no doubt recalling the horrors of his time pursuing Escobar. I stop asking.

"Vanessa! We have to go or we'll be late to Danny's wedding!" Chucho yells up the stairs at me, just as I'm putting on my mascara.

"I'll be right down!" I take one last look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my dress. It was bold, for me anyway. Spaghetti straps and a form fitting dress that stops just above my knee, a lacy slip over top of it all that's long sleeved. It's a dark green color, always one of my favorites. I'm not sure it's entirely wedding appropriate, but it's the only thing that I liked that fit me decent enough. My hair is down and loosely curled and I turn my head back and forth to make sure the bounce had stayed.

I grab my clutch and head downstairs. Chucho stands at the foot of the stairs, smiling at me.

"You look beautiful, Vanessa."

"You're just saying that so I won't make broccoli next week."

He chuckles and gives me a hug. "You caught me. Oh, when's Alex back?"

"Next week."

"Pops, we have to get going or we'll..." Javier comes walking back inside the front door, red flannel shirt tucked into tight jeans that hug his body in all the right ways. He stares at me, his eyes moving up and down my body until Chucho elbows him in the stomach.

"Fuck! You uh..you look uh nice, Vanessa."

"Nice?" Chucho says, chuckling in disbelief. "I thought you knew how to talk to women." He heads out the door, leaving Javier and I standing in the entry.

"You look really..handsome." I manage to choke out at Javier. "Now come on. Your dad will kill us if we're late."

I move to hop in the truck and then realize the stick shift will need to be right between my legs if I wanted to ride in the front.

"I'll get in the back," Javier speaks into my ear.

"No you won't. The bed is dirty and I will not have my son walking into church covered in-"

Javier puts his hands up. "Ok, ok. We'll figure it out."

I get in, taking Javier's offered hand to help me up into the cab. I slide across the bench, looking down at the gear shift as Javier slides in next to me. I try to move my legs but there's nowhere for them to move to.

"Tuck them next to my leg." I look up at Javier, the closest I've been to him since that night.

"Are you s-sure?"

"Yeah. I won't bite." I swear he mumbles "Unless you want me to" under his breath but maybe I'm projecting.

We make it to the church on time. Well, early actually as Chucho wanted "a good seat." We get out of the truck and to my surprise, Javier offers me his arm again. I take it, using him to help me out of the cab, smoothing down my dress when I finally plant my feet on the ground. But he doesn't let go, doesn't drop my arm, letting me choose if I wanted to hold onto him or not. I link my arm further in his, noting the small smile he's fighting to contain on his face.

I am very glad I chose to hold onto him. Not just because his touch is electrifying my body, but because the ground in the dirt parking lot is very uneven, the last rainstorm having put in several large potholes and what feels like millions of smaller ones. Javier saved me from falling right in the mud more than a few times. When we finally make it to the pavement, he still doesn't drop my arm, looking down at me with raised eyebrows, silently asking me what I'd like to do.

"Oh no. I'm attached now. If you let me go, I'll fall on my butt I know it."

He chuckles and covers my hand with his large one, engulfing mine. "I got you, baby."

We say our hello's to everyone as we enter and I feel Javier tense next to me at the amount of attention he's starting to receive. Many people wanting to shake his hand and tell them how proud they are of him, that he's a hero. He smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes, and thanks them, shaking their hands with his free one. This happens several times on our way to the pew Chucho wanted and after the third time, I place my free hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. I can feel him relax into me slightly as the man in front of us thanks him yet again. But as the next person approaches, I cut them off.

"Juan, it's so nice to see you, but we need to sit. These shoes weren't made for real feet," I chuckle and nod my head towards my feet. "I swear if Javier weren't escorting me I'd be taking these things off or fallen on my rear end by now."

"Oh! Yeah go sit. See you later, Javs!"

We finally make it to our row and Javier gestures for me to go ahead. I make my way in, sitting down as Javier slides in next to me.

"Hey, thanks." He speaks quietly so only I can hear him.

"Yeah of course. Anytime."

Shortly after, the ceremony starts and Javier places his arm across the pew behind me and I will myself to not blush and just pretend like I'm focusing on the sermon, the priest now saying something about love and devotion in marriage or..something. I have no clue as I feel Javier stretch a little and slide a little closer to me in the pew, our hips almost touching.

The reception was beautiful, music starting up a bit later while everyone was eating. We finish eating and Javier turns to me, mischief in his eyes.

"Dance with me?" His hand is outstretched towards me and I take it without hesitation.

"Do you know how?" I ask as he pulls me to my feet.

"Do you?"

"Fair question."

He escorts me onto the dance floor, placing his hand confidently on my hip, the other taking my hand. The music starts and he spins us around, our feet moving together to the beat. His eyes are on me and mine on his, the air between us igniting with something that we felt 6 years ago.

That realization jolts me back to the present and I move my head next to his, looking over his shoulder. I really need to tell him. I catch sight of a blonde woman, about Javier's age, giving me a really nasty look. But then the songs ends and Javier pulls back.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah."

We head back to the table and sit, several more people coming up to shake Javier's hand and tell him how proud they were, that he's a hero, all of it. I can see that far away look in his eyes, like he's here but not here. His eyes lock on something across the room and he leans towards Chucho and me.

"I'll be right back."

I watch him walk across the room towards the blonde woman who had given me such a nasty look earlier.

"Who is that?" I lean over to Chucho, nodding towards them. He glances up before looking back down at his plate of food.

"Lorraine. His ex."

"Oh. They serious?"

He takes a bite of his food and chews. "They were. But that was maybe 10 years ago?"

"Hhm.. how serious?"

"Well, they were going to get married."

"Oh."

Chucho looks at me and leans in. "He left her though. The day of."

"The day of...the wedding??"

"Not one of his best moments. But he was young and scared. And stupid."

I look over at them, a man now walking up to them and putting his arm around Lorraine.

"Well she seems to have done alright."

"Yeah. Married some banker or real estate guy or something. Seems happy. Couple of kids."

"Should you have told me this?"

Chucho gestures around at the room. "Everyone here was there that day. They all know. It's not a secret."

I nod, turning to look back at them when I see Javier turn, his hand doing that thing where it opens and closes, his bottom lip worrying slightly into his teeth. He stops a few steps away from Lorraine and looks back, watching as she picks up her kids and animatedly talks to them. When he turns back around, his face is full of regret and want, but I don't know if it's about her or the kids, his almost family. He walks through the room and out the back door.

"I'll be right back."

I get up and cross the room, heading out the door Javier did. I look around and see him sitting on a bench under a tree several feet out from the reception room. He pulls out some gum from his pocket and stuffs it in his mouth, his jaw chewing furiously. I walk up to him and he looks up at me, his eyes sad.

"Can I sit?" I ask, gesturing to the space next to him on the bench. He nods at the space, leaning back to put his arm across the back of the bench behind me.

"Thank you," I say to him after several moments.

He looks at me. "For what?"

"For...everything. I know you must have had to do some things you aren't proud of in order to catch a very bad man. I can't imagine how that must weigh on you, make you feel like you don't deserve praise. But you worked so hard and they took that ending away from you which was, excuse my language, very fucked up of them and you didn't deserve that no matter what you did, and I just....thank you."

His eyes bore into mine, shifting emotions behind them. Anger, regret, fear, disappointment in himself, disbelief, but then something else. Something softer as he focuses on me. His hand comes up to cup my face and I lean into it, loving the feel of his calloused hands on my skin. He leans in towards me, his eyes shifting down to my lips, his breath fanning out over my face.

"Wait. I have to tell you something, Javier."

"Can you tell me after we make out?"

Can I? No. No, Vanessa.

"I really think I need to tell you first."

He pulls back and it looks like it costs him a ton of effort, just like it did me to tell him to stop. He puts his hand on his lap and watches me, waiting for me to continue.

"Do you remember when I told you that Alex's dad had important things to do? And you thought he was giving me a line?"

He nods. "Yeah..."

"What if...what if that were you?"

He furrows his eyebrows together, confused. "If what were me?"

"If you had gone off to Colombia or were going off and you found out you'd gotten some girl pregnant?"

"I would have come home or not gone."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you resent them just a little for robbing you of this opportunity?"

He scoffs. "They would've saved me a lot of shit."

"You know that now. But then?"

He thinks for a moment. "I don't know. I can't say I wouldn't have been disappointed."

"Don't you think your kid would pick up on that?"

"I...I don't know. I didn't consider....Vanessa?"

I swallow down the tears that are fighting to escape my body. "Yeah?"

"How old is Alex?"

I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. "6."

It takes him a few moments, probably doing the math in his head. But then his eyes widen and he pulls his arm from around me, scooting back a little.

"6?"

"Yeah."

He shifts on the bench. "Is he...who's his dad?"

I can't help the one tear that falls from my eyes. "Y-you are."

He looks at me before abruptly standing, pacing back and forth, his hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm his dad? Me? Are you sure?"

"I've only ever been with you."

He scoffs. "It's been 6 years, Vanessa. You haven't fucked anyone in 6 years?" He stops to look at me and sees the truth in my face.

"I've gone on some dates, but nothing ever happened."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I can only tell you the truth, I can't make you believe it."

He laughs angrily, finally stopping in front of me, glaring down at me.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"

"I-"

"Did you not think I deserved to know?"

"I-I-"

"I would have stayed for you! I-"

I stand up and he backs up a couple steps. "That's exactly why!"

"What?"

"You would've hated us if you stayed. You would've resented it. You just said you'd be disappointed. You don't think we wouldn't have picked up on that?"

"You didn't give me a fucking choice, Vanessa! Does he even know me?"

"He doesn't know who you are. I told him you were a superhero, fighting a really bad man in another country. And that you'd come back when he was caught."

Javier hesitates a moment. "You never gave me a choice! I lost all of that time. I lost...FUCK! I can't even look at you!" He turns and walks away, past the parking lot and into the street, heading towards town.

I call after him but it's no use. I collapse onto the bench, my head in my hands, finally letting the tears out that I'd been holding back for so long.

-------

The next morning, I set at the kitchen island, a mug of hot coffee clutched between my cold hands as I wait for Javier. I hear the sounds of someone moving down the stairs and I sit up straighter, but Chucho enters the kitchen. I feel my face fall as he looks at me.

"I know I'm not a looker but-"

"Sorry, Chucho. I was expecting.." my voice trails off and he cocks his head.

"Javi? He left."

I sit bolt upright. "Left?"

Chucho pours himself a mug of coffee. "Yeah for Cali. Didn't he tell you? He was going to tell you last night that he was heading back. It was sort of a secret but I told him you'd probably notice if you were no longer sharing a bathroom."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "He's gone?"

Chucho turns, mug in hand and scans my face. "Yeah. I thought he told you? When neither of you returned to the reception, I assumed...well, I thought he'd tell you before he..."

Tears fall wet and hard from my already puffy face. Chucho looks alarmed but sets his mug down and pulls me to him, letting me soak his shirt as he makes calming sounds at me.

"I told him, Chucho. I told him about Alex," My speech is muffled but he hears it all the same.

"What happened?"

I tell him the entire conversation, how Javier just stormed off and how I expected to see him this morning, to apologize and tell him he doesn't have to be involved, that I can move out to make it easier. Chucho waves me off with that last one. "I would never make you move out. Javi doesn't cook nearly as good as you."

I give him a small smile, my shoulders still shaking from sobbing.

"Listen, Vanessa. I won't give you a lecture. You know my opnion and it's no use retelling you. But he knows now. Javier tends to run from things."

"So we're his latest Lorraine?"

Chucho cocks his head, thinking. "I doubt that very much. You're not Lorraine. He looks at you differently."

"Looked. I doubt he'll even want to see me again."

"Mm...let's just give him space, ok?"

"But what if he's down there another 6 years?"

"Something tells me it won't take him that long to think about things."

-------

Javier

It had been a month since Vanessa told him he has a kid. That he has a 6 year old son he knew nothing about, knew nothing about him. Except that he's a hero. Which is a lie.

The Cali Cartel had another 5 months before they would be "turning themselves in", which was a big joke. He had to catch them before the time was up so they could face actual justice and not this fake, bureaucratic bullshit.

He's tried to resort back to his old ways of dealing, burying himself in a woman. But when he tried to, he couldn't bring himself to do anything, let alone sleep with them. It was everything he could do to not pick up a cigarette, but his patience was wearing thin.

He tried not to think about Vanessa and her confession. But when the work day was over, and he went back to his penthouse the government provided, his brain would play that conversation over and over in his head. At first, he continued to remain livid, that she had denied him the choice of knowing his family, being with his kid. But then his dad's words echoed in his mind, the call coming the day he landed in Cali.

"That girl has been through hell, Javi. Don't be the asshole you claimed you wouldn't be."

"She didn't tell me I had a kid, dad. A kid! Who does that?"

"She was only thinking about you! This whole time, she was worried about your wellbeing. She didn't want you distracted or resentful, even if it cost her everything."

"What did it cost her?"

"Her parents! Her family, friends, her church. Ours welcomed her with open arms only because I was there to vouch for her. She was shunned from her entire life and still only worried about you. Don't be such a stubborn asshole."

He thought about Vanessa, so young and pregnant, trying to figure out how to tell her strict parents she was expecting despite not being married. Them kicking her out, closing her off from all of her friends and family, anyone who would support her. Her finding the strength and will to drive all the way back to Loredo to try and find him and discovering he would be away for an indefinite amount of time. What would he do in that situation? Run away from it, probably. Which she didn't have the option of doing.

He takes a swig of his drink, the ice cubes clunking against his top lip. He wants to meet his kid, Alex. Wants to tell him that the bad guy was caught and that he's back. Would he be back? It's probably good Alex doesn't know who he is, in case something happens to him here. But if he gets to go home, he knows he wants to be in his life.

What about Vanessa? Will she let him in their lives? Javier is pretty sure she will, even with the way he left. But what about her? If he's honest with himself, truly honest, when he looks past the anger, he sees her big eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, the sass she gives him in her quiet manner. And he thinks, no. He knows. He knows he loves her. He thinks she loves him. If she didn't, surely she would've told him long ago, not caring about his well being. But she had been so adamant about not telling him, wanting him to be safe.

He crosses his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fuck, what was he doing? Granted he signed up to go back to Cali when they called him in, assuming that if he didn't they would throw him in prison. But honestly, he was ready to come back and actually be here when they get the bad guys. But then Vanessa came back into his life and now a kid.

Fuck, he's an idiot.

-------

Vanessa

6 months. It had been 6 months since Javier stormed out and ran away to Cali. Ok, run away was harsh as he went there for work, agreeing to it long before he knew I was here. But he hadn't called and I took that as a sign, no matter how many times Chucho said it doesn't mean anything because he doesn't call him either. He gets too caught up in his work.

It's the start of summer, the windows are open to get a cross breeze coming through the house. I do miss the ac back home, but I'll take Chucho's home over the one I grew up in any day, heat or no.

Alex got a new book and I hadn't seen him for a couple hours as he's spent them in his room, devouring the latest in his series. He did come out once, nose buried in the book, to ask me for a snack.

I finish washing his cup, setting it on the rack to dry. I stare out the little window over the sink, watching Chucho putter about between the barn and the shed, thinking about the animals and how hot it's going to get out there. I know they're used to it, but still. I'' have to get some extra ice trays at the store so I can throw some more in their water troughs. Chucho says that's why they all like me so much.

Suddenly, I hear heavy steps on the wood floor behind me, much heavier than Alex's. I spin, my hand gripping the cast iron pan that was sitting there. But when I fully turn, I nearly drop the pan.

Javier is there, standing in front of me, his chest heaving, a small bead of sweat sliding down his neck and onto his chest, which is slightly exposed by his several undone buttons in his lavender purple, button up shirt.

"Javier, I-"

"Sshh. I'm sorry."

"What?"

He takes a few steps towards me. "I never should have just left. I at least should've told you about Cali."

"No. I'm sorry. I should've told-"

He's only a couple steps from me now. "No, it's ok. I understand. You were thinking about your family. About how it would affect even me. you did what you had to do."

This was not what I expected. He reaches for the pan, still clutched in my hand. He takes it and sets it on the counter behind me, leaning close to me. He looks down at me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek and I inhale sharply at the sensation.

"You're so brave and I'm a fucking idiot."

"You have every right-"

He pulls me to him, gently pressing his lips to mine, giving me time and space to stop him. But what he doesn't know is his touch has sent me spiraling, spinning away into the sky. And when his tongue slides into my mouth, my body trembles slightly, my hand coming up to mindlessly grab onto his arm. But then he pulls back, staring into my eyes.

"I'm in love with you."

My stomach lurches, a thousand butterflies being released in my body at his words. Love? He loves me? I never thought I'd hear those words from anyone, let alone the man I've loved since I was 19. The reason none of my dates every worked out.

"And it's ok if you don't-"

"I love you too."

He smiles, a real smile that lights up even his eyes, both of his hands now cupping my face. "Really?"

"Why do you think none of those dates ever worked out? It was always you, Javi."

He kisses me more passionately now, his hand leaving my face to grip my hip, pulling me against him. I feel him through his tight jeans, pressing into me and I groan a little in his mouth.

"Fuck, you're so intoxicating. It was killing me not to kiss you."

"Mmm." Is all I can manage to say. But then I remember we're not alone, not this time.

"Do you want to meet him?"

Javier pulls his face back from mine. "He's here?"

I nod. "Yeah. Reading, upstairs."

He shifts, tugging on his pants. "Hell yeah I want to meet him. But uh, give me a sec?"

I glance down and chuckle. "Maybe I can help you with that later?"

He groans. "You aren't helping any now."

He turns and walks out the back door and I see him say hi to his dad, embracing him. Chucho watches him for a moment and then a smile appears and he claps him on the shoulder. I can only assume he's telling him he's going to meet Alex. Javier comes back inside, taking a deep breath.

"Ok, I think I'm ready."

"Alex! Can you come downstairs for a minute?"

Small feet patter across the floor upstairs and make their way down, Alex appearing in the kitchen a moment later, his book still propped open in his hand.

"Mom, I was at a really good part!"

"Alex, I have someone I want you to meet."

"Can it wait?"

I kneel down to get on his level, his eyes, so like Javier's, staring back at me, sensing the seriousness.

"Alex, meet your dad, Javier."

Slowly he turns, looking up at Javier who waves at him awkwardly. "Hey, kiddo. I uh, got the bad guy. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Alex continues to stare at him for a moment. Then he throws his precious book to the floor, running full out towards Javier, who throws his arms out at the last minute as Alex leaps into them, nearly knocking him over.

"Dad? It's really you?"

"It really is."

Alex clutches onto him, tears in both of their eyes. "I always dreamed of meeting you! This is the best day of my life!"

Javier hugs him tight, fighting back the tears that are quickly gathering in his eyes. "This is the best day of my life too, son."

-------

2 years later...

I load up the old tractor with a couple of picnic baskets, 4 large thermos full of homemade lemonade next to them. I close the back and carefully hop up, driving slowly across the property, a smile on my face. After a while, I pull up to the 3 men in my life: Chucho trying to carry wood by himself, Javi yelling at him as he runs to help him, and Alex, hammering away at a spare piece of wood. They were at the back end of the property repairing a downed section of fence. Javier sees me pull up and he rushes over, offering me his hand to help me down.

"I wish you hadn't driven this thing."

"Well if I walked, it would've been dinner by the time I brought your lunch."

"Mom! Watch me!" Alex starts hammering on a piece of wood Chucho had laid in the ground, Javier moving to help him pound it in further.

"My strong man!"

"Son, gather up the tools and put them in the box. We're taking a break for lunch."

Alex starts to look around for the tools as Javier turns back to me. He wraps his arm around me and leans in to kiss me, sliding his tongue over my bottom lip.

"Now now none of that. That made this happen," I rest my hand on my enlarged belly as Javier leans down, planting a kiss to my stomach before standing back up. He leans close to my ear.

"I plan on putting as many kids in you as you'll let me."

I slap his chest, but the thought warms me. "Let's just see how these 2 go first, yeah?"

He smiles at me, kissing me again before lifting Alex into the back of the trailer, helping me to set up the picnic lunches I had made for all of them. As we stare out at the river, a boat comes through, obviously carrying illegal items, most likely drugs. Javier stiffens, but then looks around at us.

"I'm done. I've done all I can. Now I just want to spend my life with my family."

-------

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk

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modern-day-bard · 4 months

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Masterlist

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller Fanfiction

Summary:

Guinevere Russell is the sole heir to the multimedia conglomerate, Russell Corp. After obtaining her MBA and moving home to New York City, she’s been forced to return to a tumultuous relationship with her father and the rest of the board. Gwen would prefer to run off with her friends and see just how far she can take a distraction, and she’s perfectly happy doing so. That is, until her father hires a bodyguard to keep a watchful eye on her. She just can’t figure out if he was hired for her safety, or to uncover the secrets no one else knows she possesses…

Joel Miller is a personal security officer on leave from his last assignment, where he worked abroad for a U.S. embassy. He has avoided private security detail for years after a life-changing accident, but when he gets this call, the money is too good to pass up. But Joel has never met a client with such an aversion to being protected. Regardless of the paycheck, Joel will soon realize this is his biggest challenge yet, but not for the reason he thinks…

When their secrets, both past and present, collide in a mixture of tension and new-found feelings, the results can be catastrophic. Now, Gwen’s safety is put at risk more than ever before, and the two of them have to get to the bottom of the mystery, and what they mean to each other, before it’s too late.

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

a/n: This is an ongoing story! I’m writing more chapters while editing before I post. I hope to post on a consistent basis. I’m also posting this story on ao3 and Wattpad. Tumblr tends to take me the longest to post from, but I’m determined to make it happen!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Worth The Feeling: A Javi Gutierrez Fanfiction

Summary: Ava Cohen is a 26-year-old production assistant working tirelessly to achieve her dream of one day becoming a film director. As hiatus from her last project comes to a close, she returns to set with Norwick Productions, whom she has worked with for the past four years. After a major fo paux on the first day of work, Ava is worried she has offended the star of this next production: Javi Gutierrez. She will soon come to realize, this couldn’t be further from the truth. When the cast and crew travel to Italy to film on location, the seriousness of what Ava is feeling becomes all too real, just as a new career opportunity lands in her lap. As tensions run high, watchful eyes set in, and her career is put at stake, can all of this be worth it in the end?

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s). Minors, do not interact.

a/n: The full story is available on AO3 and on Wattpad as well for anyone who is interested. Thank you to anyone who reads my story! 🤍

Total word count: 93,547

Pairing: javi gutierrez x f!reader. No physical descriptors of the MC, except for her being shorter than Javi. Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian #tlou #narcos #romcom #fluff #angst #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez fluff #worth the feeling

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tojisbbygworl · 11 months

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My Wife is a Stoner and a Bitch and it’s Driving Me Crazy - Toji Fushiguro x Black!Reader ~ FFL Series

Summary: Megumi is finally out of the house which means it’s time to spark up. Toji - 33, You - 30, Megumi - 12

Characters: Toji, Megumi, Yuuji, Sukuna, Gojo

Words: 6,215

Tags: 18+, 2nd person, Fluff, Established Relationship, Marijuana, AU-No Curses, SMUTTTT, Car sex, High Sex, Cunnilingus, Toji is Whipped, DILF, Toji is a Good Dad, Soft Toji

Disclaimer: This work is part of a Black!Reader x Toji series I started called Fushiguro Family Life. It's basically a slice of life series with you, Toji and Megumi. None of them are in order and can be read on their own unless stated otherwise.

AO3 Version

My AO3

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

author’s note: So basically the great AO3 DDOS attack of 2023 sent me into a panic and now I’m considering cross posting all my stories. I mayyyy post my other darker Toji stories here but I’m not sure. Probably not.

This is inspired by a reddit post I saw a while ago and couldn’t find again with a similar title. This work is the 1st part of a Drabble series called Fushiguro Family Life (great name Ik shut up). All the stories are cute, fluffy, and/or smutty and will be mostly one shots. A couple may have two chapters. Okay I’m done talking now. Enjoy!!!🩵

Toji was very excited to get back home tonight.

He had just dropped off Megumi at his best friend Itadori Yuuji's house. The kid's birthday was tomorrow and he practically begged Megumi to come to his sleepover. Megumi was a quiet and introverted kid who liked being alone. It's hard to get him out of his shell which makes Toji wonder how the hell those two even became friends in the first place. When Toji overheard Yuuji pleading for Megumi to spend the night while they were playing in his room, he knew he had to get Megumi to go. He loved the kid but God, Megumi was home way too often. Yes, he was only 12, but he had ample opportunity to leave the house. Megumi never joins his friends in walking to the DQ by their middle school after school lets out for the day. He never wants to carpool with Yuuji and Nobara to the nearby high school's games where Yuuji's older brother Sukuna is the football captain. He doesn't go to the fair when it's in town, or Six Flags on the weekends. He would much rather stay at home and have his friends come over. Which means Toji has to constantly deal with at least 3 little shits fucking up his house. It's a situation that's less than ideal.

Megumi has a habit of asking Toji or his stepmother to say no to the prospect of him going out because he doesn't want to hurt his friends' feelings. Sometimes he would come into their room and hold up his phone while it's on speaker. Usually either Yuuji or Nobara will be asking if he could go somewhere and Megumi would be mouthing 'NO' and shaking his head. Toji would repeat the word aloud and that would be the end of that. Well, not this time.

When Yuuji asked Megumi to come to the sleepover, Toji quickly jumped into action. He hopped, skipped, and jumped over to his room where he pretended to be on his phone waiting for Megumi and Yuuji to come through the door. When they did, he looked up.

"What?"

"Mr. Fushiguro, can Megumi come to my sleepover next week? It's gonna be the day before my birthday." Yuuji asks, slightly melancholy from expecting a firm 'no' like usual. Megumi was standing behind him, his face completely relaxed. By this point, his parents should know how this works. A friend asks if Megumi can do something and they say...

"Sure thing."

Megumi's eyes burst wide open while his friend jumps for joy. Yuuji immediately turns around and hugs his best friend who is still frozen in shock and staring bug-eyed at his father. Toji is grinning cheekily. Yuuji starts to guide them away from his room and Megumi takes two of his fingers, points them at his eyes then points them right back at Toji. The door shuts.

Toji immediately texted you, his lovely wife, about the great news.

babe guess what

Wifey

what

i hope u ready to have the house to ourselves next week

Wifey

???

sir what are u talking abt

the little shit is finally out of the house dammit

Wifey

!!!

say on god

on my mom

Wifey

u dont even fuck wit her

i dont fuck with no one but u baby

Wifey

...what abt ur son

what abt him?

Now why are you and Toji celebrating the absence of your amazing son? Well to put it simply, to get high as a fucking kite. You two have never really gotten a good opportunity to do so since you started dating so many years ago and Toji even longer before that. Having a kid put a hold on indulging vices. Not that Toji or you minded, Megumi is a wonderful kid. But before having and gaining custody of Megumi when he was 3, he had always anticipated the days he could sit down and light a blunt again.

The last time you and him had smoked frequently was when you two had started dating. Toji was very fond of you so he strived to see you all the time. His baby mother was willing to watch Megumi while he went on dates with you despite how often they were. And he attempted to impress you with his smoking skills. Unfortunately, it had been a long time since the last time he smoked and on the 4th date he ran out of weed and backwoods. Imagine his surprise when he pulled up to your house and you pulled out an airtight jar that was packed full.

"What-what the hell is that?" He exclaimed.

You looked at him with a concerned face, wondering what had gotten him so shook. "Huh? It's Bubba Kush." Toji had never even heard that strain before.

He proceeded to watch you roll the most beautiful blunt he had ever seen in his entire life. You took two large hits and handed it to him. All he could do was look at you. You thought he was cute, but he was taking too long to take it from you. You scrunched up your face and shook your hand. "Take the shit before it goes out, stupid!"

He was smitten.

When he asked you to move in is when the smoking sessions came to an abrupt stop. Something that you completely understood. Megumi was 6 at the time. He was still a pretty young kid so you or Toji always had to be around. And you were. And you both raised a great kid together. And when he finally reached the age of 11, you both thought he would be leaving the house much more frequently like other kids his age were doing. This is when they start going home on the bus together and hanging out at arcades or small restaurants. How could you have known that Megumi would grow an attachment to his parents and never want to leave the house? How would you know that he enjoyed spending time with his dad and stepmom? What preteen likes hanging out with his parents?

Now as it stands, it had been pretty much 8 months since the last time you and Toji smoked and he was tired of it. He prides himself on successfully hiding weed from his son, but if the only thing holding him back was because his son never fucking left the house, then something had to change. This would be the start of many 'yeses' to come.

The day came and you were coming home from work when Toji dropped Megumi off at Yuuji's. Megumi had let his displeasure with the situation be known all week and he was still irritated while Toji drove.

"You know I like being at home."

"Yeah. You're a damn hermit and the shit is weird."

"You're weird."

"I'm not the one who likes hanging out with his parents."

"That's only because grandma and grandpa suck. Your whole family sucks. Mom and Y/N's families are cool."

"What, so you're saying I'm cool? Is that why you like hanging out with me?"

"So you want me to think you're lame?"

How could Toji answer that truthfully without explaining why? "No, I just want you to hang out with your friends. They really like you. Even if you are a loser."

"You're the loser!"

This bickering continued until Toji finally pulled up to the Itadori household. He almost had to force Megumi out of the car and practically pulled him to the front door where he rang the bell. Itadori Sukuna answered and Toji scowled down at him. He didn't like the 17 year-old asshole.

Sukuna looked down at Megumi and grinned. "Hey, my little brother's emo friend arrived. He won't shut up about how your dad finally let you out of the house for once. What changed, Mr. Fushiguro? Huh?" He raised his brow while his smile grew. Toji's face remained stoic although he was starting to get ticked. He tapped his finger against his thigh.

"Just let the kid inside. I don't have time for your nonsense." Sukuna obliged and moved to the side so Megumi could enter the house. The kid turned and waved at his dad before getting jumped by Yuuji and Nobara.

Toji would have chuckled at the scene if it wasn't for Sukuna straining his neck to look past him. Toji realized he was trying to look into his car. "What, do you want a kiss or some shit?" He teased. He raised a bag that had Yuuji's present and put it to his chest. "Here if that's what you're looking for."

Sukuna's face didn't falter. "Y/N couldn't deliver it herself? That's a shame. It's always nice to see her."

Toji scowled. He doesn't know when, but you had become the designated gift giver at some point over the years. Every gift from the Fushiguro household was from you. You made it or bought it with your own money and always delivered it yourself. Toji hated it for this exact reason. He knew this little shit Sukuna had a crush on you. And you just thought it was the most adorable thing in the world as if he wasn't almost a grown man. You would never go for him so it was hilarious, but Sukuna didn't see it that way. He genuinely believes he has a chance of taking you away from Toji and it fuels his already massive ego.

"No. She told me she's tired of you always trying to flirt with her, so I'm gonna be the delivery boy from now on. So get used to it." He lied. Sukuna called his bluff and laughed heartily.

"Yeah alright. Just tell her I missed her today and that I can't wait to see her at the championship game. I'm assuming she's finally taken that stick out of your ass so you can let Megumi go to my games now."

"I'm not gonna tell her shit. You stay the hell away from my wife, delinquent." Toji spat at him through gritted teeth. He turned and walked away before he could respond, but of course, the teenager just laughed and shut the door. Toji was still fuming when he got back in the car, but then he remembered what awaits him at home and he relaxed.

im omw babe

Wifey

okay bby. i just got home

hungry?

Wifey

always

let's go get sum to eat

Wifey

what we getting

idk

Wifey

well figure it out

maybe

You don't respond, most likely trying to figure out what you want to eat. You still hadn't decided on what to eat when Toji pulled back up to the house. You came outside and got in the car. You got out of your work clothes and put on something comfy and casual. You had on a white graphic tee that you cut into a crop top and black cotton shorts. Your gold anklet accentuated your pink crocs and your bleached locs were in a high ponytail. All you brought was your phone and house keys. Toji sped back off when you entered and didn't give you time to adjust causing you to lose your balance and fall back against the door.

"Um, excuse you?" You exclaimed. Toji put his hand on your thigh.

"Sorry babe. I didn't mean to." he said while trying to hold back his laughter. You glared at him.

"Stop laughing." He let out a snort.

"I wasn't laughing at you, baby."

"You just did, liar." You finally put on your seatbelt and sat back. Toji's hand still didn't leave your leg while he drove to your designated smoking spot. As much as you two would love to smoke at home, you didn't want your house to reek and the neighbors were nosy assholes.

You put on your favorite music during the drive. Toji loved listening to your playlist. You always managed to surprise him with the raunchiest and most explicit songs you could possibly think to put on. Every time he thinks he’s heard them all, you have a new one to show him, such as the one that was playing now.

Boy this pussy talk,

English, Spanish, and French

Boy this pussy talk,

Euros, Dollars, and Yens

He kind of recognized the voice. This was that group you really like called City Girls. You’ve played their songs a couple times before. He might have to add this one to his playlist, though. They’re really riding the beat.

You lift your head up when Toji stops the car. He rolls the front windows down a bit and turns it off. You reach into the glove box to get all the materials, the grinder, the papers, the rolling tray and, of course, the weed itself. Toji watches you intently as you work your magic.

He doesn’t just stare at your hands as it breaks the buds apart and stuff them into the grinder, he also looks at your face, your hair, your jewelry, and your body. You were such a beautiful woman.

”You could really be unwrapping the woods and dumping out the tobacco but you wanna sit there and look at me like you stupid.”

And you were such a bitch. Not that he was complaining.

When you and Toji met, it was his day off and he wanted to spend it working out. Most people don't really choose to spend the day at work, Toji didn't really have a choice in this case. Plus, he owned the place, so he could really do whatever he wanted.

You walked into the gym just as he was finishing his last set. He was all sweaty and gross and you looked really cute with your locs in pigtails. You had on a matching gray set that he's seen on a number of girls. It never looked this good on any of them, though. He prides himself on not being a creep, but he stole plenty of glances at you when you were checking in. Your butt looked really, really good. It was when you had walked into the women's locker room when he realized he hadn't taken his eyes off of it. He blinked, then looked to his left to see Gojo Satoru smirking at him.

"You're such a weirdo." He joked.

"Fuck off." Toji had the smallest blush on his face and he grimaced in embarrassment. He really hadn't meant to be checking you out, but he couldn't help it. You were pretty.

It took you only a couple of minutes to come out of the locker room with nothing but a water bottle and Airpods. Toji wasn't paying attention as he had refocused on finishing his workout, but you caught his eye again when he turned around to leave. You were punching in settings on the treadmill.

Toji paused with his towel and water in his hand and deliberated what his next moves should be. He was tired, wet, and smelled gross. He had been here since he dropped Megumi off at daycare and he wanted to spend some time relaxing at home before he had to get the little menace. But then you started speed walking and your boobs were bouncing so nicely that he just had to get on the treadmill next to you.

Toji is no better than every other man.

He successfully ignored the look that Gojo had thrown at him before unsuccessfully pulling off a casual walk over to where you were. Toji purposefully walks into your line of sight, sweating inwardly knowing that he caught your eye. You look away when he gets on the treadmill right next to yours. He gives you a nod and a smile expecting a small one back. Instead, the aloof look on your face remains and you look him up and down. Then you go right back to speed walking.

He blinked. Okay, he wasn’t expecting that. Maybe he was coming on too strong by choosing the treadmill next to you. It’s too late now. He punches in the same stats on your treadmill and starts walking as well. He’s taking glances at you but you don’t look over to him even once. Or maybe you’re looking when he’s not looking. From how annoyed your face is, he doubts it.

After a couple minutes, you increase your speed to a jog. Toji decides to play a little game for your attention, and does the same, ending on the exact same speed you’re on. He can’t tell if you notice, but it doesn’t matter to him one bit. He could do this for ages.

Every time you increase your speed, he does the same, and Toji knows he’s gotten you when you increase it significantly and you’re full on running. He’s impressed that you’ve gone this long, but he’s gone longer. He follows suit, as expected. And that's when you give him a glare. And it only gets more sinister when you see the cheeky grin on his face. You turn up the setting to the point where you’re full on sprinting. Toji, and some onlookers, has never seen a woman more determined to outperform a man in his life. And he’s had his fair share of lovers. And despite the deeply confused and slightly frightened look on his face, he's having a lot of fun.

And your reaction to him keeping up with your very impressive speed was worth the strain on his body. You press the stop button on the machine slowing you down to the perfect yet quick stop. You stare at him with your hands on your hips. He smiles and does the same. You’re both staring each other down.

“Yes ma’am?” he grins.

“You think you’re cute?” You say, panting heavily.

“No. I think you’re cute.” He responds, smoothly. You jerk your head back and blink.

“Hmph. Well I don’t.”

“How could you not think you’re cute?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what the fuck I meant.” You grab your water and start to walk away. Toji, even though he doesn’t want to look desperate, follows you. You head to the paper towel dispenser and begin to wipe away your sweat, Toji standing behind you ready with the excuse that he needed the paper towels too. You were very frustrated, so you were punching the dispense switch very aggressively.

Toji couldn’t help himself. “I thought I was the one who pissed you off. Don’t take it out on my dispensers. I’ll have to replace them.”

You paused for a second, then turned to look at him. “...You own this gym?” He nods. “Oh hell no. This is the last time you’ll see me here.”

Toji grabs his heart. “You’re breaking my heart, miss…?” He lets the sentence linger so you can finish it for him.

But instead you almost look offended. You really are cute. “I’m not giving you my name!”

He grabs his heart with his other hand and pretends to stumble back. “Agh! You’re breaking it even more.” He leans his hand on the wall and holds himself up, then looks at you smiling. He managed to catch the end of a slight laugh that escaped you. You cover your mouth, but it’s too late. Toji knows he’ll see you again.

And he does the week after while sitting at the receptionist desk filling out some paperwork. Just when he was starting to think you weren’t joking, you walk right in with your Airpods and duffel bag wearing a different matching set, but it looks just as good on you. He puts on a huge grin and watches your face fall as you walk up to him.

“Good morning, are you sign-”

“Getting on the treadmill again today, sweetheart?” He rudely interrupts his employee, who just rolls her eyes and goes to the back room to get on her phone.

“I don’t know who the hell ‘sweetheart’ is, but I’m not her." Ah. And you brought your attitude with you as well. More fun for him.

“Me neither. Maybe if I knew her name, I wouldn’t have to call her that.” He smiles widely.

“Well I hope you figure it out one day.”

“Oh, I’m about to right now.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“She has to give me her name to sign her in. That’s how.” He got you looking stuck and somewhat embarrassed. And that fuck ass smile has not left his face.

“Oh, shut the fuck up…” Your eyes shift downwards slightly and you meet his gaze again. “Toji.” You tell him your name afterwards and he signs you into the computer.

“Have a good workout…sweetheart.” He immediately lets out a boisterous laughter seeing the daggers your eyes are shooting at him and he makes it his life mission to annoy you until you say yes to a date and annoy everyday afterwards.

And he has. So, how can he complain about his wife being a bitch when he chose you because of it?

He does what you request, and hands you the leaf so you can finish rolling. Watching you bring it to your lips and start to slick the wood down with your tongue was always a spectacle. Not just because it look cool, but because he never failed to joke about it. “Why can’t you do that to my wood?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not this shit again.” The both of you stared at the flame from your lighter while you used it to seal the leaf. “Are you always gonna make that joke?”

Toji grinned stupidly. “Yes.” You tried, but failed to hold your laughter.

”I hate you, babe,” you giggled. Toji laughed with you and the both of you proceeded to get super duper high.

You guys were halfway through it and you were in the midst of discussing the new drama in your girlfriend group chat when he interrupted you. “Hey. Hey. Hey-“

”What? You see I’m not done talking.”

Toji pauses and just stares at you, making you even more irritated. “Man, what?”

”Let’s have sex.”

You looked at him like he was crazy then shifted your gaze to his crotch. There, in all of its glory, was a tent in his pants. Typical. He always does this. He becomes very talkative when he’s high, so whenever he goes quiet, you knew something was up.

Toji was staring you down ever since he took the first hit. He looked at your breasts and smirked upon seeing your nipples poking through your shirt. He saw how smooth your neck looked and thought abt how nice it feels to sink his teeth into it. The sounds you make are absolutely gorgeous.

Then he stared at your hair. It was so soft and pretty. The blonde was extremely cute, but he liked them the most when they were ginger. He thinks the color is called Cajun Spice or something like that. It matched well with your skin tone.

At some point while you were talking he put his hands on your thigh and started stroking it with his thumb. You didn’t notice, you subconsciously put your hand on top of his grabbing his fingers. The action filled his heart with warmth, smiling at you while relaxing his head on the seat. Just listening to you talk.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t listening. He was imagining how loud you would be if he opened up your door and bent you over the passenger seat. Hm, that sounds like a really good idea.

You look back into his eyes after seeing how hard his dick had gotten and you couldn’t help but smirk. You were clearly trying to keep your smile down, but it wasn’t working. “So you’re not hungry?”

”I am. For something else.”

“…You’ve charmed me,” you say, making Toji laugh.

”Oh, I have?” He takes off his seat belt.

”Yeah, you have.” You say, following suit.

”Then come here.” Toji grabs you as soon as your seatbelt snaps back, pulling you over the center console to kiss you passionately. It’s kind of uncomfortable for you, you have to kneel onto the seats from the way he pulled you over. You would have said something about it, but you were already so wet and he was grabbing you so tightly that the thought left your head.

Toji was moaning in your mouth so much you could feel it vibrate through your body. You could tell he was really getting into it from the way he shifted himself forward to grab your ass and thigh. He decides that he’s had enough. He needs you now. “Take off your shorts.” He opens up his door to come to your side of the car. You can feel yourself becoming giddy while slipping off your bottoms and shoes.

When Toji opens up your door, he sees you in all of your glory. You were bare from the waist down. Your legs are so shapely and smooth, they look beautiful in the moonlight. So were your perfect thighs that he desperately wanted to grasp and never let go. Your glistening cunt tied the whole thing together. He could only imagine how soaked your panties must have been.

But the best sight was the bright and excited smile that stretched across your lovely face. He was falling in love all over again.

”You look happy,” he teased, kneeling onto the hard ground.

“Speak for yourself.” Toji’s smile was just as wide as yours. He made it very clear that he absolutely adored eating you out. He once described it as his favorite pastime. And he was fucking good at it.

Toji took sometime to rub your legs, leaving kisses leading up to your hot center. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He savored every single smooch as if it was the last time he would get the chance to kiss you.

He spread your legs the closer he got. The fucker slowed down as well, leaving you to whimper pathetically. He smirked and chuckled at you. You had a mouth on you yet when he made you wet you were like puddy in his hands. He gave you a small, but firm bite, his dick twitching when he hears you hiss.

When Toji finally tasted your sweet center, he moaned. He gave it a small kiss, then tenderly licked it, spreading your lips slightly with his tongue. He looked up at you and saw your head fall backwards along with your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your mouth refused to close, a sound of satisfied pleasure leaving from it. You were so beautiful.

Toji encloses his mouth around your pussy in an extremely sloppy kiss. His mouth is covered in slick and he finds that he likes it so much that he continues making it sloppier by the second. The little squeaks that you’re making in your throat are really cute, but he wants more. He takes his thumb and begins to rub your clit up and down, making sure to get your wetness all over it. It was effective in making you even louder.

”Oh, shit.” You whine. Toji removes his hand just to replace it with his tongue. “Fuck, baby.” You get even louder and your hips begin to grinding into his mouth. You grab his hair in an attempt to keep him still even though you love what he’s doing. Toji loves it and he goes even harder. “Mm, Toji it feels so good.”

He removes his mouth to suck on his fingers. After he wets them up, he inserts on of his digits into your wet pussy. It goes in with ease. You feel his thick finger enter you and as much as you love it, you want more.

”Put another one in, baby.” Toji smiles and bites his lips.

”Anything you want.” He yields to your request, inserting a second finger and pumping them. That makes you moan even louder.

”Yeah, just like that.” He doesn’t take his eyes away from yours. Yours are lidded but he can still see the want in them. The longer he looks, the more he wants you. His fingers pump you harder and harder and you get louder and louder, all while staring him in the eyes. The familiar feeling of release builds up in your abdomen. Your breathing picks up.

”Oh, Toji…Toji…”

”Yes baby?” He starts to smile at you. Your cunt starts getting wetter. He knew what was about to happen.

”I’m gonna cum,” Your voice is so breathy it’s beautiful.

”Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby.” You do exactly that. As much as he loved keeping eye contact with you, watching you throw your head back and curse while feeling your cum drip from your pussy onto his seats was a much better alternative. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Toji removed his fingers from you and held them up to your face. You flick your tongue out before wrapping your mouth around it. You look at him while maneuvering your head back and forth sucking them dry. Toji stares down at you smiling.

”God, you’re a slut.” He tells you. You release his fingers with a pop and nod your head, smiling.

”What am I going to do with you?” He takes his shirt off before pulling down his pants and briefs, his thick and throbbing member slapping back onto his stomach. He looked amazing. His face was glistening with cum. You took your time to stare at him and his body. His muscles and abs were on display for anyone who had the misfortune (or let’s be honest, fortune) to pass by with their headlights on. His pants and underwear pooled at his ankles and you can’t help but think about how nice his butt looks right now. Just sitting out in the wind. You giggle.

”What’s funny?” He asks, tugging on his dick preparing to lean over you.

”Your ass probably looks so good right now.”

”Why you wanna bite it?” He holds himself over you and pushes your legs up. You lick your lips.

“A little bit. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.” Toji smirks then kisses you sweetly. Without even warning you, he pushes himself into your pussy refusing to let up from the kiss when your mouth instinctively opens wide. The feeling of Toji sinking into you is euphoric, and it gets even better when he’s fully inserted inside of you. He sighs. The two of you are connected at the hip and it feels just as good as the first time.

Toji looks down at the two of you. Your stomach is so beautiful when your thighs are pressed against it. Your ankles were laying on his shoulder pushing your abdomen down and making you feel full. He can’t stop looking at it as he slowly begins to pull himself out of you. You start to whine desperately, grabbing at his back to keep him inside of you. But Toji slams himself back into you making you practically scream. He starts a steady pace of fucking you into his seats. You sound delicious grunting into his ear with every thrust.

“You like that, don’t you?” Obviously.

“Oh my fucking God, yes.” You respond looking at him. He’s holding your hip with one hand and brings the other behind your head putting his body weight on your elbow. Toji pulls your head up to his to kiss you once more. You swallow each other’s moans and his thrusts become more intense. You scratch at his back leaving new scars amongst his old ones.

“Does my pussy feel good, Toji?” You whisper into his ear. He groans into yours and you clench your cunt around his dick.

“So fucking good, baby girl.” It’s his turn to sound breathless. It tickles your ear.

“Will you moan for me? Will you say my name?” You ask. He nods and begins to whine. He sounds desperate for your pussy, as if it he would die if he stopped fucking you for even one second.

“Ngh…(Y/N), I fucking love this pussy.” He whimpers. He sounds so hot, you can feel your release coming soon.

“I know you do baby.” You taunt. Toji weakly lifts his hand from your hip and it crawls up your torso between your breasts to grip your neck. You can’t talk and your head remains still. Toji’s breath is hot on your cheek while he turns his head.

“You’re a dirty fucking bitch you know that?” He tells you. Toji thrusts into you one more time and stops. You look at him in desperation while he pulls himself out of you. “Open your mouth.” As soon as you do, he drools onto your tongue then leans down to make out with it. It ends with your tongue being sucked into his mouth.

“Turn around, bitch.” He commands. You twirl around and hike your ass into the air, twerking a little bit while smiling at him. He grins and slaps your cheek hard. Then, Toji lines himself up with your pussy once more, and pushes himself into you from behind.

He can’t even hear how amazing you sound, he’s so focused on how wet you are. He tilts his head back wards and groans. “Oh, shit.” He begins to fuck you from the back, getting even more excited seeing your ass clap on his stomach.

He holds onto your hips as if it’s a lifeline. At some point, you turn to look back at him and you look so fucking slutty it’s not even funny. Toji can’t help himself when he reaches for your hair then yanks your upper body towards him, causing you to arch your back. He reaches over to grab one of your tits knowing that they probably looked amazing bouncing from him fucking the shit out of you.

You’re loud and spewing curses, but so is Toji. He can feel your pussy clenching around him again. “You’re about to cum again, aren’t you?” All you can do is nod too busy screaming his name. “Then cum on my dick, baby. Come on.”

“Okay daddy.” Toji smacked your ass again.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Okay, daddy.” You say while releasing on his member, leaving a white ring of cream around his base. Toji pushes himself down onto you grabbing his seats and ramming himself into your pussy. You’re already slumped, not even trying to lift your head up and just letting your cheek squish into the chair. Your moans are quick and desperate. Hoping that it never ends. But from the speed at which Toji thrusts inside of you, his breath picking up and his moans becoming more wild and loose, you knew it would end soon.

“I’m gonna cum, baby girl. Where do you want it?”

You gather enough strength to tell him, “On my face, Toji. Please cum on my face.”

Oh, he was so glad you said that. He fucks you for a little while longer before ripping himself from you. You immediately turn around and kneel down, face lined up right underneath his balls. Toji pumps his dick and looks at you staring up at him in anticipation. You look so fucking beautiful, he releases a guttural and intense moan while his thick, white seed spills all over your face. You accept it gracefully, then when he’s done you lick the remaining cum from his dick. He shudders.

“Damn, babe.” He laughs. “You’ve never looked prettier.”

You would bat your eyes if he didn’t cum on one of them, so you opt to giggle and pose cutely. “You should take a picture.” You joke.

Well, he takes it seriously. Toji pulls up his pants and underwear to find his phone, snatching it up and snapping as many pics of you as he can. You go along with it and actually start to pose while his semen drops down your face and onto your body, mainly your tits. He makes sure to take a picture of that too.

“Yeah, this is going in the vault.” He puts his phone away, gets the paper towel roll he keeps in his car for this very reason and wipes your face for you. When you’re all clean you look so fucking gorgeous he can’t help but to kiss both of your cheeks.

“What was that for?” You ask, pulling your shirt down and putting on your shorts.

Toji shrugs. “I love you. So much.”

You give him a slight glare and his stupid smile falls. “What?”

“You just saying that because I let you cum on my face.” Toji feigns offense and dramatically puts his hand to his chest and scoffs and gasps.

“How dare you. I love you for you are AND you let me cum on your face.” He says. You roll your eyes.

“Take us home so you can do it again, loser." You slam the door shut and start to light the unfinished blunt once more.

Toji looks at you through the window and can’t help but stare in absolute infatuation. You really are perfect for him.

“Can you come the fuck on?” You open the door to shout at him.

“Yes, baby.”

ending a/n: I started this series to take a break every once in a while from all the angst I write, lmao. I have quite a few story ideas, but none of them are fully written just yet. Be sure to check back for the next installment in the series🩵🩵🩵

Pics are from Pinterest btw

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dearestxiao · 5 months

Text

the color blue: vibrance | yandere xiao x reader, yandere venti x reader

synopsis: (college au) you've found solace in a newfound, faceless friend after a messy break up left a hole of loneliness to be filled. you can't help but countdown the days until his identity is finally revealed, but perhaps you've known this mysterious friend all along.

WARNINGS: while this chapter is mostly tame, this story will progress to have heavier and darker themes. implied stalking, manipulation and guilt-tripping, student-teacher dynamics (reader is 21, zhongli is in his late 20's/ early 30's), threats of finacial manipulation. I believe that's all but let me know if there's more! reader is gender-neutral

wc: 6.6k

authors note: it's finally here! the re-upload of the color blue <3!!!!!! thank you all so so much for your patience. bare with me guys, this story is a slowburn. (also you cannot pay me to yap less). this is a re-upload of my fic from my old deactivated blog based on my college! however, this isn't a complete re-upload. for those who have read the original version of the color blue, some parts of the story have been altered and edited to better fit my vision of what i want the story to be (so no horned up xiao (yet) sorry guys </3) i really really hope all these changes are still enjoyable, though! thank you to those who made it possible to recover this story from my old blog, and thank you all for staying tuned <3

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ [part 2] [part 3]

this is a dark fiction story. minors, do not interact. as always, reblogs are extremely appreciated!

you have a love-hate relationship with fall.

fall was a melancholic season for you, a season that practically begged you to simply stay home and away from the gloomy, blue skies. fall isn't a bad season, not by any means, but you do absolutely hate just how much more cozy it made your bed feel, how the soft pitter-patter of morning fall rain would ring out against the glass of your window as though beckoning you silently to stay under the warmth of your cozy blanket, how it became increasingly harder to get out of bed with the way the floors (and days as a whole) were cold and contrasting against the heat of your comforter (which, as the day goes by, you truly are starting to realize more and more why comforters have the word 'comfort' in them).

you liked the fallen leaves, with their reds and golds and oranges. you liked the pumpkins and the rain and the sweaters and the need for warm drinks, but god does fall make it impossible for you to get up these days.

luckily for you, your roommate has a knack for getting you to do things you don't necessarily want to do.

the first thing you awaken to (apart from the numerous snooze alarms you've dismissed in the past hour) is the borderline obnoxious feeling of your roommate bouncing onto the bed to the side of your (once) sleeping body, startling you. you can't say that this was the first time you've been woken up with a bang like this, but you could certainly say that it won't be the last.

"goooooodmorning, sunshine!" despite your eyes not being open, you can practically hear the sinister grin plastered all over his face as he let's out a greeting in his singsong voice, watching as you groan out at his chipperness. you never understood how your bestfriend could be such a morning person, but you supposed that facet of his life fit him well, just like you hating mornings fit you.

"venti." you let out, feeling him shake you awake. "get out."

your lovely, loving roommate responds with an exaggerated sigh, followed up by him gently jabbing a chipped baby blue lacquered finger at your cheek as you try to bury yourself into your pillow. he pressed against you just like how you had pressed your own against the button that, had you not pressed an excessive amount, would have avoided this situation as a whole. you can't help but feel as if the snooze button was invited purely just to spite people like you.

"aw, c'mon, I can hear your alarm from the other room you know. you were gonna need to wake up eventually." you force your head up just a little to pick up and peek at your phone with one sleepy eye, reading the time on the clock and realizing he's right, causing you to know full well that had he not woken you up you would've easily slept through your morning classes.

putting your phone back down, you roll your eyes. "yeah, yeah." you mock, moving to yawn and stretch before giving venti your full attention, eyeing his mischievous grin from your position. "what'd you want?"

"ugh, can't a man wake up his bestfriend without having any nefarious intentions in mind?" you deadpan at him, giving him that sort of look that just screams, 'no.'

"okay, fine, so I do have some mal-intent, but I made you breakfast, so it evens out! and since you're obviously so insistent on helping me out..." he smirks, and you instantly become suspicious, but you allow him to talk, wanting to see what he plans to rope you into this time.

"you know how I'm a great friend, an amazing one at that, and take you out to places all the time so that you can truly come out of that little shell you like to keep yourself in? how I'm such an oh-so amazing person that I use my popularity to let you enjoy life to your fullest? how I love to spoil you dearly, allowing you to truly-"

you're half tempted to throw a pillow at his face. "get to the point," you groan.

he dramatically rolls his eyes. "ugh, you're no fun. so, there's this halloween party..."

"I don't like where this is going."

he presses his pointer finger right against your lip. "hush! so, there's this halloween party, and I think it'd be fun for you to tag along with-"

"no."

"don't be a grinch! c'mon, I need a date! I even bought us matching costumes!"

"don't you have, like, a million other people that could be your date?."

he groans. "ugh, you know, you should seriously stop thinking about what others think. besides, all you've been doing these past few weeks is studying and sleeping. you need a break, have some fun! I promise it'll be a great time."

you sigh, willing to hear him out. you suppose you have been overworking yourself. "and what if I'm busy on sunday?"

he doesn't respond with quick wit like he usually does, and it makes you worried. you finally take a full, good look at him as you respond, and you watch as you see the smile on his once beaming face start to dissipate, and you instantly get hit with a pang of guilt at the sight. you note the way in which he's half dressed and how his messy dyed blue hair is still pinned back, as though he really did go out of his way to wake you up while he was getting ready. he looks away from you, as though he's trying to hold himself back from saying something. "do you... do you really have plans on halloween?" he says lowly, as though heartbroken.

the guilt really is hitting you strong. only venti can make you feel this bad this early in the morning.

"well, not at night atleast, but I'm not exactly sure that I want to spend it watching you in a costume get wasted." you try to joke, but you can tell that somethings up with venti. he doesn't find it funny, not one bit. "besides, I'm sure that you can find someone else to be the... er, morticia to your gomez addams, or something."

he nods slowly in an almost wounded baby bird fashion. "right. sorry for asking. I knew it'd be a bad idea to ask." his voice croaks a bit like he's right at the brink of tears. he moves to get up, as though trying to flea the scene, but your hand on his wrist stops him from going.

"hey, wait, what's wrong? I didn't think this would be such a big deal to you. you always party without me."

he let's out a tired, exhausted sigh. "you don't get it. it's fine, I can find someone else like you said."

"get what?"

"it," he replies. "you don't get it. it's not just a party to me." you quirk a worried browed towards his way, beckoning for him to explain. he shakes his head solemnly.

"it's just... it feels like you never want to hang out with me anymore. I don't know. I've been trying to make excuses for us to finally spend some time together but everytime you say no. I know that you're busy and all, and parties aren't exactly your thing, but you usually love halloween so I just thought..." he pauses, taking a deep breath. "it just... hurts. hurts that despite living with you I barely get to see you."

you interlace your hand with his, something you know that has always brought him comfort. you squeeze, letting out a little sigh, watching as he refuses to look at you as pink dusts his cheeks. you mull it over quickly as he looks at you at the feeling of your hand. "I'll go to the party." you say, despite knowing full well that you'd rather die than attend it. you'd truly do just about anything for your bestfriend.

"really?" he says, eyes wide as his signature smile begins forming again on his face. "you'll go? seriously?"

you shrug. "yeah, sure. who knows, it may be fun. hopefully, atleast."

venti nods eagerly, thumbing at your hand in delite. "great! you won't regret it, I promise. I'll tell you more about it later. oh [name], we'll have a blast, I swear on it." venti produces this wide, toothy grin, smiling down at you like you just told the man that he won a life-times supply of wine.

"thank you, thank you, thank you! I'd love to keep you here, but now that you've sealed the deal with me, you should start to get going." you check the time and he's right, you really should. shit, you're gonna be late for your class.

-----♡

you still have the very first letter he sent to you.

that fact is something you remember when your eyes land on the calendar on your wall as you hastily get ready for class. many of the days are crossed out, with only a handful remaining until the last day of the month; october 31st, the faithful day you will meet your penpal.

you still cant believe you're meeting him. the days—months, even— before you two came into contact are still a haze in the back of your mind. it was a little after your mind had become frazzled in the aftermaths of a messy, sudden breakup. during that time you had spent more time holding yourself inside an isolated cacoon than you'd like to admit.

the break up (that's still too much of an open wound for you to even want to think about right now) had honestly shook you to your core, making you crave some time alone, time to think and reflect on what had happened and on yourself. you spent most of your time away from everyone who wasn't venti (who, to be fair, you didn't really have a choice of getting away from in the first place, even if you had wished to).

however, there was an issue you couldn't ignore. despite the sheer largeness of the student population at your university, and how many people you know through your more than social roommate, you've always felt an incredible loneliness, a loneliness that was only worsened after the breakup.

for weeks on end you had craved some sort of connection, a fresh start, someone you could talk to that was your friend and not just venti. luckily, one day you had stumbled upon something while scrolling through your school's forum, a beacon of light.

it was a post where you could apply to be a penpal.

the idea seemed fun to you. all you had to do was submit a short bio of yourself, say some stuff you're into, what kind of penpal you were interested in, and your school mailbox. after that, you'd simply just have to wait and see if someone had took interest in you.

you honestly weren't expecting much, but you were pleasantly surprised when a few different people had actually sent in letters after a couple days. one was in reply to a letter you sent to someone who also posted their bio. another was in response to yours. the one that had stuck with you most, though, was one from an unrecognizable address off campus with an even less recognizable name attached.

and there it was, a glimmering sheet of the potential to get out of your slump right inside of your mailbox.

who was he? you couldn't help but be intrigued, and after reading over the letter the mysterious stranger (penpal?) had sent, you felt more than inclined to respond, quickly creating a relationship with the man who you would soon end up considering a close friend.

truth be told, you had obsessed over his letters, partially out of curiosity, and partially out of the way you felt so connected to this newfound friend despite never having spoken to him before. he always wrote them in a hasty, cursive script, sometimes a little smudged. many words were always scribbled out, as if constantly trying to find the best words to say, causing large blotches of the paper to be stained with dark ink. and yet the words themselves were soft and delicate. he never wrote with intensity. and he never wrote much about himself, either.

the extent of personal things he'd share eith you were limited to things like a song he was really into at the moment, a book he read recently, an assignment he was working on, or a quiet spot around or near campus he discovered. every once in awhile he'd honor you with a small little story about his life, but most of the time he'd spend his letters asking about details on yours. no matter how hard you tried to stir the conversation towards him, he always brought it back towards you, you, you. any question you'd ask would be met with short answers, or would simply just pivot back to asking about you.

you couldn't lie and pretend like it didn't fuel and egg on your curiosity. he always wrote just enough to keep you intrigued, making you feel insatiable, always wanting to know more. and yet, despite your best efforts, your mysterious penpal never gave up any more information than you needed to know.

you have a mental compilation of the upmost important details of him: the first is that he, of course, obviously goes to the same school as you, that's a given. there'd be no way he would've become your penpal otherwise. he lives off-campus, though, like you do.

the second is that he's in the same year as you, and you think he's somewhere in the history department, again, like you are. that means you've probably atleast seen him around at some point.

the third, and most important, is that he (atleast from what he alludes to) has some sort of past he rather not bring up, some past wounds and scars he'd rather not show, something that makes him keep his barriers up.

and that wall is thick. you've spent more hours than you can think pensively thinking about the identity behind the smudged ink, but to no avail. you didn't even know his real name. 'alatus' was what he told you to call him, but it's clear the name was just nothing more than a childhood nickname.

then, one day, you had opened up the newest letter he had sent and to your surprise, the sole thing written on the sheet of paper was a simple sentence and a string of numbers right under it— a phone number, his phone number. it read, "I want to be able to talk to you more than we can through these letters."

and talk, you two did.

maybe it's the ability to talk to him continously without having to await until you recieve a new letter, but you two had talked a lot, quickly becoming closer and closer. while you made sure to not sure anything too personal, you had shared much of your life with him, sometimes telling him things even venti didn't know. and sometimes, on rare occasions, he'd share something back, just enough for you to be ever craving more.

that craving was promised to be satiated after he had asked you something one night after talking for hours.

alatus: can we meet? we don't have to if you're not comfortable, of course, but I'd like to see you.

of course you said yes.

you: but how will I know it's you when I see you? you: tell me something special about yourself. some way I can know it's you when I see you alatus: I have nothing special about myself to tell you.

you: that's got to be a lie. of course you have something special about yourself. just give me something to identify you with or something, pleaseee alatus: the only thing that I can tell you is that I like the color blue. you: that doesn't tell me anything alatus: it tells you more than enough, you'll see.

that conversation happened a little over a month ago, and despite how much you've talked to him since then, you know not much more about him than you did before.

after finishing your routine and getting ready for class, you make sure to pick up a marker before you leave, crossing out yesterday's date. you only have just a few more 'x's' before you meet him.

ーーー☆

if there was one thing you hated more than having to leave a perfectly warm bed in the mornings everyday, it'd be the busy morning trains.

nothing feels more terrible (atleast in your grumpy, groggily morning mindstate) than being pushed and shoved by people with no basic understanding of personal space, or having to listen to the chattering loud noises of business men talking way too loud for comfort on their phone, or having to be painfully alert of just what stop you're getting off at when you're so tired and sluggish that you're genuinely wondering if your morning classes are even worth attending (you're definitely gonna schedule your classes different next semester, you can't help but think).

but if there's one thing that makes these trainrides even remotely better, one small but sole and detrimental saving grace, it's familiar faces.

you're never in the mood to talk during the mornings, mind too occupied on other things to handle maintaining even the most basic of conversations, but sometimes having someone accompany you makes you feel less lonely in a room (or in this case, a train cart) full of people, and that counts for atleast something. there's part of you that wishes that venti had accompanied you today on your way to classes even though his classes don't start till much later. your mental state is practically begging for some absentminded chatter to keep it occupied (venti always had a talent for talking when needed and distracting you from just about everything wrong in life, a talent that you're craving to bless you with right now).

luckily for you, though, as your eyes trail around the crowded train, you find something equally as distracting as a close friend would be.

you're still so, so utterly sleepy, but as your eyes trail to a glint of green (specifically the faded color you get after not redying your once vibrant blue hair in a long time), you suddenly feel a bit more awake, making eyecontact with the man that, no matter how much you try, seems to never not glare at you with his piercing golden eyes.

it's definitely not uncommon to see xiao on the same morning train as youーhell, it's not even uncommon for you to see him on the same night train as you, despite how sporadic the times you leave campus to go home isー considering you two share numerous classes with eachother (classes you're almost sure from limited knowledge that he's not actually into, classes that genuinely make you stop and wonder how and why xiao chose to be in them). but the sight of him makes your heart race a little, both at the way he steals quick glances at you before looking away, and at the way you find yourself silently intrigued by him, especially by just what his constant glances (and glares) could possibly mean mean.

despite his catish looks, xiao is a beautiful person, you think, fingers tightening around the train pole to keep your balance as your mind fills up with thoughts on the man infront of you.

he's pretty.

you feel eyes on you as you move to look away, not wanting to stare at him for long enough to seem like a creep (though unbeknownst to you, xiao does not share that same sentiment), instead moving to put in your earbuds and tune out all other chattering in the train, drowning it out with your music as you let yourself absentmindedly think of xiao. you noted that he looked exhausted, even moreso than usual, as though he'd been up all night just like you had. his hair was messy, thrown up in a half up half down style that framed his pierced face and ears perfectly in it's own imperfect way, and his eyebags match the overall tired feel he has going on. some things never change, you think.

you remember all the way back when you were just a college freshmen, locking eyes with the man for the first time ever in your life (though it wasn't by any means the first time his eyes laid upon you) just like you had moments prior. you vividly recall the way your breath hitched and your body stilled, the way you stared at him for far too long, the way your eyes glanced over all of him, as though trying to etch him into your memory.

it was like a scene from one of those teen romcoms you and venti watch whenever you're bored and want to hangout on saturdays, those scenes that feel too magical to ever even be considered as a possibility of happening in real life, only this time nothing truly spectacular came out of the moment. the occurance wasn't special, not by any means, but when your eyes locked with his the world seemed to stop and it was as though you two were the only ones in the world.

back then, his hair wasn't dyed the two iconic tones of blue he now rocks (or atleast, used to, before it faded out), nor did he have nearly as many expressive piercings and tattoos decorating his body further. instead, xiao was just... xiao; a blank slate begging to be covered in the self expressive forms xiao later delved deep into. there's always this soft frown on his face and eyes that are practically begging to be stared into.

the first thing you had noted back then (and even now as they grow in desperation) were his borderline begging eyes. begging to be seen. begging to be comforted. begging to be heard. eyes are the windows to the soul, and in xiao's case, xiao's windows lead into a home that has far too much going on, a home with curtains trying to shield people from looking inside, though they're far too sheer to actually do their jobs. a lonely soul. his eyes themselves weren't dead or empty, just... tired, as though they constantly scour around in attempt to find meaning in everyday life. the beautiful gold was and still is accented by horridly dark circles, and the thing you've never noticed about xiao is the way his eyes glimmer and sparkle a little when they meet yours. perhaps you don't pay attention to him as much as you think, as much as he would to you.

if you did, you'd know he found meaning you.

it's an admittedly comforting sight, moody and drowning like the deepest of oceans despite their gold glimmer, human. they make you feel seen, but most of all, they glare deep into the part of you that wants so heavily to just be there for him as though he's silently pleading for your attention. it looks like he's begging to be hugged and loved, or more specifically, to be loved back.

there's a part of you that wondered if half of the purpose of his appearance change was to intimidate people from trying to figure him out, to pretend as though his eyes weren't as desperate for comfort as they truly were.

and in that same exact (anticlimactic) moment, you came to the realization that everyone has a life just as deep and complex and layered as yoursーsonderー, and you furthermore realized that you want to know each and every complexity that the blue haired man in front of you had. you had found it unfair that you didn't know everything there was to know about him, and even now, as you stare and once again memorize the features you should already have etched into your head by now, mind trailing to the thought of just how many opportunities you've had to learn all there is to know about them that you didn't take, that fact still hasn't changed despite how many opportunities you had to over the past few years. xiao has remained the blank slate he was two years prior, no matter how dearly you wished otherwise.

perhaps that's your true downfall as a human being. curiosity is a curse. somethings are better left unknown, just like the identity of the man you've met online.

either way, no ones ever felt more like home then xiao did. though you? you're his entire universe and more.

now as your eyes shamefully lingers on him once more, wanting to get one last look at him before you have to get off the train due to reaching your (and his) destination, you come to a revelation.

xiao looks like the color blue.

ーーーNEW TEXT MESSAGE ☆

you: how'd you sleep last night?

you: maybe we should've slept earlier, I'm on my way to class right now and feel super exhausted

alatus: sorry. I shouldn't have kept you up. if it's worth anything, I'm really tired too.

alatus: I don't regret it though.

you: I don't either, but I will say I do regret asking you for that hint. haven't stoped thinking about it ever since I asked for it lol

alatus: really?

you: yeah, saw this guy on my commute to school and instantly thought about the color blue. it felt so weird

you: I don't think he even likes blue lol

alatus: yeah? what'd he look like?

you: like someone who hates colors as a whole

ーーー☆

today hadn't been the best of days for you.

you knew from the way professor zhongli had eyed you up and down as you walked into his classroom, mumbling a soft and short apology for being a few minutes late, that you should've just stayed home today. there was a nauseating glint in his eyes as they trailed after you, watching as you sat down. everyone else was eerily quiet, as though trying not to awake a sleeping dragon, causing anxiety to shoot through your veins. something was wrong.

"glad you've finally graced us with your presence, [name]. perhaps you'd like to inform the class as to why you were late today?" he speaks, uncaring of the lesson he was teaching just seconds ago, far more interested in chastizing you for just how disappointing you've been as of late. you squirm in your seat, chewing on the bottom of your lip as you think of what to say.

"I..." he doesn't give you a chance to truly explain himself. he rolls up the long sleeves of his white button up, heels clicking against the tiles of the floor as he walks to your desk.

"surely you've stayed up late studying for my class to make up for the sloppy quality of work you've been turning in as of late, correct?" he speaks lowly in his what would otherwise be soothing voice, but all it does is make the moment more embarrasing, more intimate as you feel the pitied stares of your classmates.

you don't respond. you can't, really. it's as though your lips are sealed with the weight of the poison laced on his words. the best you can do is fidget with your hands, already beginning to hold back tears, lip quivering as you try not to let your professor's notoriously ruthless teaching methods get to you. you could be sassy and catty with venti considering how close you two are, sure, but you could never be able to speak up against the domineering man infront of you.

"youー" zhongli isn't able to get a full word into his sentence before stopping as he hears the door to the class open once again. you're don't dare look back, but you do hear a quiet, mumbled apology for being late, and just from the tone alone you can tell it's coming from xiao. you watch as zhongli shakes his head at the sight, entire body radiating disappointment, and yet he doesn't give xiao the same scolding he gave you, saving him from the embarrasment.

what a biased dick, you think.

he shakes his head, sighing, deciding to save his energy. "... see me after class, [name]. you seem to be having a rough day, so I'll try to stop myself from adding onto your stress as much as possible. but please understand that in the future, lateness is unacceptable in this class. you should know this by now." the way he speaks is almost gentle, a lot more sweeter, as though he's simply just disappointed in you, but you know deep inside that there's more to his thiny veiled act of trying to parent you than meets the eye, a darker intent. you hate it, and you hate how you can't speak up, but you're grateful he spared you atleast some of his scolding, so you instead resort to simply nodding as zhongli goes back to teaching his class as though nothing ever happened.

-----♡

you spent the better half of your lecture worrying more about what was to come after than on the actual lesson itself. you refused to make zhongli's eyes, far too scared that if you were to make contact with his piercing ones that you'd lose all your resolve in an instant. time couldn't have gone by slower, but eventually, after what felt like days of waiting, the lecture was finally wrapped up for the day, and you watched as everyone shuffled out of the room except you and the professor himself.

"today's class felt longer than usual, hm?" zhongli attempts to joke as though to lighten the mood, but you don't dare to respond. you hear him sigh at the way you don't respond, accompanied by the quiet shuffling of paper as he makes his way to you. god, you want to be home right now.

"I wanted to talk about your performance in my class, [name]. please take a look at this," he slides a familiar looking group of stapled papers onto your desk, one that you hesistantly look at, only to wish that you had eyes at all in an instant at the sight.

you wish the world would simply swallow you whole at the sight of bright, red ink, showing a blaring '40%' at the upper right corner of the assignment you'd spent hours slaving over for, breath hitching in shock. you feel sick to your stomach, as though the red was the same red you'd see in the aftermath of a murder, only this time, the thing being brutally killed is your own ego.

you could've lived a good, long, healthy life without seeing such a ghastly sight.

"it's certainly not bad, but you could be... better. much better. I expect more from you. you know that. and I know you. you can do much better than this sloppy work you've been handing in lately." he speaks, shattering your heart word by word.

throughout your years at this school you've had your far share of lower grades, and you've always managed to take them with stride. this was different, though. every student knows that in all of the classes zhongli's teaches, anything less than perfect is practically a death sentence.

"but I..."

"no buts. I would love an explanation, however, if you have one to give me."

you don't have an explanation. you've been working hard just as you have since you started taking his classes sophmore year, so why are you suddenly now failing so terribly? you shake your head at himーthis must be a mistake. a big, big mistake.

"...you're on scholarship student, aren't you?" you nod your head, knowing full well that had it not been for the full ride you've been given, you wouldn't even be setting foot near this building, let alone this classroom. "you do want to keep attending this school, don't you? you'd likely lose your scholarship if you don't improve soon. we both know full and well how finicky administration are with grades."

you try your hardest to hold back tears as the papers in your hand begin to slightly crumble from the force of your grip on them at the sheer thought of losing the very thing allowing you to go here. one even goes as far as to fall, splattering against the once prestine white sheet, soaking in and feathering out and smudging the blue pen ink that you used to write your oh-so-unimpressive answers with.

you wonder just where exactly things went wrong; you had worked so hard on this assignment, how could it not be 'good enough?' most importantly, how were you supposed to impress him? wasn't your sheer effort enough? you gave it all of your all, but he still somehow wants more, though you're not exactly sure how much you have left to give to him.

he watches your form with pity. his eyebrows furrow as he bends down a little to meet your eye thats paying far too much attention to the floor beneath. a gloved hand takes your face in his palm, thumbing at your eyes so as to wipe your tears away, but it does nothing to comfort you.

"poor thing. this entire ordeal must be stressful for you.... perhaps you can have one of the teacher assistants help you. I'd suggest ganyu, but as of late, she's been busy, and I'd assume you'd be better off getting tutored by someone actually in the same course as you. you and xiao seem to be getting along lately, though I know he has a rough surface. perhaps you could melt through that barrier though. I can tell you can. I can speak to him, if you'd like."

you honestly can't comprehend his words with the way your pounding heart is much more louder than his soft tone of voice. your lip quivers as you attempt to meet his eye. you can't find the strength in you to reply.

"will you atleast consider trying to get into contact with him?" he asks after no response. you shakily nod, albeit hesitantly, and he gently lets go of your face at the notion, smiling lightly.

"good. it'd be a shame to see you lose the scholarship you worked so hard on attaining. make me proud, [name]. you've always been my star student. I trust that you and the extra help at your disposal will resolve this little issue you're having. you have my private number, correct?" you nod again, much to his pleasure.

"please contact me whenever you desire. I can set-up one on one time to make sure you're caught up to speed. now get to your other classes for me, okay? I'm sure you have a long day ahead of you."

'a long day' is an understatement, you think, because your day feels blue, moody, as dark as the clouded sky. you wonder briefly how you can cover up your frustration before anyone at your next class sees. you suddenly feel a seering hatred for the soft pitter patter that rings against the windows that seem to mock you and the fact that you didn't stay in the coziness of your bed today.

perhaps you should have stayed home after all.

ーーーNEW TEXT MESSAGE ☆

you: gonna be home late, going to the library to study. start dinner without me

you: today sucked bad

venti: what's wrong?????? what happened???? come home please, you know I don't like you staying out after dark, especially when your upset

you: im okay. I think zhongli is the worst professor I've ever had though seriously

venti: did something happen?!?!?!? I'm sorry ): we can hug when you get home okay? and talk it out? whatever you wanna do.

you: yeah, thanks. actually kind of need that hug rn. gna go to the library

venti: okay, stay safe... call me?

you: can't. it's pouring outside so i have to go. see you soon though.

ーーー☆

you find yourself growing tired of this routine.

it wasn't a terrible one, not by any means, but the days are truly starting to blend in with one another. everyday, you wake up, go to class, pray your work is up to the hightened standards of professor zhongli (and all of the other freakishly stern teachers here, for that matter), study, go home again, and prepare yourself to it all over again tomorrow. if you're lucky, your roommate breaks your routine just a bit, forcing you through whatever shenanigans he deems fit for that given night. eitherway you were tired, desperate to forget about today's stresses. maybe venti was right; a party would take the edge off.

atleast your other classes, apart from one taught by professor dottore (which you luckily didn't have today), weren't as bad as zhongli's.

nonetheless, after hours of studying in the warmth and comfort of your campus library without interruption (minus the time when your two friends albedo and sucrose had asked if you needed any help, to which you declined) felt your eyelids become heavier and heavier and your energy strained, begging you to simply go home and rest for the night.

the train is crowded as expected, and almost all the seats were taken apart from a few that were just made empty after people got off the stop. you take it, too tired to stand for the rest of the trip home after the long day that you had. but honestly, you're starting to think that whoevers in charge of the universe is seriously playing a joke on you or something, becauss someone takes the open seat right next to you as you sit down, and it's the person you least were expecting to have to sit alongside. xiao.

he looks a little out of breath, as though he ran to catch the train. he makes no effort to even acknowledge the fact that you're seated right next to him as he plays music through his headphones. even so, xiao is a beaming light in the sea of tuxed business men who hate their jobs and gloomy faced riders tired of the long day.

quite frankly, you're lucky you even got a seat, even if it meant having to sit next to the man you cannot get out of your head despite how much you think he dislikes you.

the sheer crowdedness of the train makes it so that you're pressed flushed against him, feeling the emmense amount of body heat emitting from his body. if you were any less exhausted, you'd be freaking out right now from the proximity, and honestly, you kinda still are, but you're too tired to truly feel weighed down by it.

you actively had to fight hard from going unconscious right then and there from how tired you are. you really didn't want to fall asleep on the train, but god, today was just so long, and xiao (who still hasn't even so much as glanced your way) is so warm, and such a comforting presence, and your feet ache and you didn't sleep much last night and you'd do anythibg to just get some rest.

it's a battle you lose. your body shuts down after a few minutes of trying your absolute hardest to just stay awake until you arrived to your stop, eyes drooping closed as you fall asleep next to xiao.

as you fall asleep onto xiao, as it comes to be.

#tw age gap #tw student teacher relationship #tw manipulation #tw stalking #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere venti x reader

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immajustvibehere · 11 months

Text

Spark (7/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 7 summary: You and Arthur spend some time in Strawberry together. Your relationship develops. It's only when you get home that one incident after another seem to separate you.

link to my masterlist

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6

5400 words, 30 minutes reading time

You awoke to the twittering of birds, their song gently piercing through the silence the awakening nature. You felt stiff and cold as you turned on the hard forest floor. Your head had rested on the bedroll, but this had done nothing for your back, which ached in pain. As you sat up, a familiar weight slipped off your body. It was Arthur's jacket. He must have covered you with it at some point during the night, you hadn't noticed. The man itself crouched in front of a fire, tending to its flames with a stick.

"Morning", Arthur greeted as his gaze shifted from the fire to meet your eyes.

You responded with a grunt, stood up and handed him his jacket so you'd have your hands free for a satisfying stretch.

"Slept well?", you asked under the cracking of your joints.

"Well enough", Arthur shrugged.

You sat down again and watched as Arthur set up some coffee. All of this went without saying. It was a bit awkward how you eyed each other occasionally. It was a bit uncomfortable, as you didn't know where this conversation would turn and you really hoped it would stay light and happy, though there were so many grave things to discuss.

"How long do ya plan on layin' low?", Arthur asked after he handed you the cup of coffee. You didn't have any cutlery with you, so it seemed like you and Arthur would have to share that cup.

"Couple of days", you said, "four, maybe?"

"Ya think we should stick together for a while?", Arthur asked. He was hesitant to ask, still not entirely sure if you'd reject him eventually.

"If it suits you", you answered, a hint of relief evident in your voice. In truth, you had never planned it to be any other way. You wouldn't mind running around alone, but the circumstances were different now. Your stitches needed taking out, you had no spare clothes, food or money on you and your mind wasn't in the best place at the moment. You'd much rather Arthur stays by your side.

"Sure. We should go to a town, though. I ain't planning to sleep in the dirt for that long", Arthur complained.

"What do you mean? Getting old?", you teased.

"Wasn't my bones that woke up half the wild-life with them cracking", Arthur grinned.

"Fair enough...", you smiled and exhaled. The teasing felt comfortable, it's what you have known for the last weeks and in a way, you preferred that method of showing that you cared. It was easier. You didn't have to expose yourself too much.

"Strawberry shouldn't be too far", Arthur pondered.

"Sure, why not", you said. You handed the steaming coffee cup to Arthur and observed how he placed his lips where yours had been a minute ago. It had done a solid job of warming your chilled bones. "Why don't we rob a couple of fellas on the way? I'd use some money for clothes and a stay at the hotel”, you suggested.

"Ain't necessary, I got some money on me", Arthur dismissed your proposal.

"Ya telling me to rob you instead, or to just submissively accept you covering my expenses?", you asked.

"I'd prefer the latter option", Arthur said sarcastically.

"I don't plan to be in your debt, Morgan."

Arthur raised an eyebrow: "You might have saved my life earlier. This ain't about being in my debt, y/n. This is not usually how those things work, you know?" Arthur chuckled at the thought that you wouldn't accept his favours, despite...well, you weren't in a relationship yet, but he hoped it was heading in this direction.

"Fine then...Strawberry's half a day’s ride. Let's go then."

The weather was nice for a ride. The crisp air carried the lingering freshness of last night’s rain, while the sun tried its best to dry the damp grass and trees. The last wafts of mist disappeared, as the sun rose higher in the sky. You would have enjoyed the ride a lot, weren't it for the turmoil within your mind. The uncertainty of the situation overwhelmed you. On the one hand, you felt like you had to address the feelings you had for Arthur. You watched him ride, reins held casually in one hand, the other nonchalantly swaying by his side.

On the other hand, there was Micah. He had planned something. You knew very well he was in Dutch's favour, and you also knew he is a man that was willing to do whatever it takes for survival and money. Somehow, you didn't want to tell Arthur. It might overcomplicate the matter, you weren't sure how things would turn out.

"You ain't tellin' me what's on your mind, am I right, darlin'?", Arthur disrupted your thinking. The pet name made you stiffen up a bit and you couldn’t help but feel a blush rise to your cheeks.

"It’s not that important…I’m just thinking", you lied.

"I understand", Arthur’s voice was laced with empathy and understanding, "Ain't gonna pressure you."

You smiled; you were glad about that. This was new, a partner by your side who didn’t pry.

"It's just difficult to trust you, Morgan. I'm riding unarmed, I feel like I’m damn naked", you admitted with a grin, cursing that your guns were back at camp. One of those guns being Arthur's older one. Remembering this, you cursed yourself, because you had started to cherish it a lot…it had become something of sentimental value to you, and its absence was keenly felt. You saw Arthur stirred in his saddle bags before he handed you a holster and a gun.

"You carrying a whole arsenal with you?", you quipped as you secured the holster around your waist and settled the gun within it.

"Damn right, but I expect this one back, you hear?", he said with a wry smile on his face.

Midday had past when you arrived Strawberry. Arthur handed you a couple dollars, insisting you use them to get some new clothes. You agreed that a big blood stain probably didn’t give the best first impression when you tried to go unnoticed. The general store didn't offer to much of a variety, but you found a blouse you were happy with. Your pants were fine. Arthur rode ahead to the Welcome Centre, arranging a bath and a room. Arthur had convinced you to take a bath, saying it would be more sanitary to take out the stitches after your skin around the area had been cleaned.

As you entered the hotel, the clerk warmly greeted you, informing that the water had been warmed up and was ready for your use. You headed straight for the bathroom. You had to admit that your last bath was some time ago, so it did feel good to immerse yourself in warm water. The remnants of the O’Driscoll’s blood that had managed to elude your previous wash in the creek only fuelled your desire to scrub every inch of your skin.

Drying yourself off and dressed in the clean blouse you had purchased earlier, you did feel very much renewed – especially after the long ride you’ve had.

When you entered the room that Arthur had arranged, your eyes fell upon him sitting on the edge of the bed, tending to his spurs.

"Should we get the stitches out?", Arthur asked. His question hung in the air for a while and was accompanied by a sigh of resignation that escaped your lips.

"Yeah...sure,” you gave in and took a seat on the bed.

"Ya could do it yerself, ya know? Ain't that hard."

Yor uncertainty must have been evident when you glanced at Arthur. The pain of the night he had stitched you up came back. The white glaring agonizing pain that almost had you pass out and scream muffled cries into a cloth pressed between your teeth. The memory caused a shiver of unease to travel down your spine.

"I don't know...", you admitted.

"Under the premise that you won’t accuse me of prudishness and making selfish advances, I can do it for you, if yer so kind as to lift yer shirt for me", Arthur grinned boyishly, reminding you of words you had said yesterday.

You sighed and lied down on the bed, exposing your stitched scar to Arthur. You closed your eyes, reading yourself for some pain.

"You really never had stitches, did ya?", Arthur’s voice cut through the silence.

Your answer was the release of a tense breath, before you felt Arthur's warm touch on your flesh, resting just above your hip. He took out some tweezers. Soon, you felt a slight tugging sensation that was done after five seconds. When Arthur turned away, you knew he was done. There was this cocky smile on his face when you looked at him.

"You son of a bitch!", you cursed as you sat up, your voice was laced with playful anger, "Why didn't you tell me it doesn't hurt?"

"Liked yer submissive face, 's all", Arthur said nonchalantly.

You stared at him in utter disbelief.

"I'll fucking skin you alive the moment I get the chance", you mumbled, your gaze suggesting an attack any moment.

Chuckling lightly, Arthur met your threat with a playful glimmer in his eyes: "Sure, I'd like to see ya try, Missy.”

You went into attack position.

"Will ya try to knock me off my feet?", Arthur asked, hands resting on his hip. Your stance suggested you’d tackle him any moment, he found it quite amusing.

"I won't try. I will do."

"What are we betting for? A kiss?", Arthur suggested.

"Your life, cowpoke."

By now, you couldn't contain the huge grin that had formed on your mouth. This sort of friendly banter had been going on for the last couple of weeks, though the mention of a kiss had introduced a new dynamic. Memories came up from last night and how you avoided him after he had kissed until you had sorted your thoughts. It wasn't that you lacked trust in Arthur specifically; rather, it was a matter of your own guarded nature, a reluctance to place your trust in anyone.

Despite your reservations, you did feel safe around him. You gave up your competitive stance and settled back down on the bed.

"You'll have to earn that next kiss", you declared, a mix of playfulness and sincerity in those words. It was more in a manner of finally addressing the issue, than actually binding it to conditions. You weren't sure if Arthur understood that you were so hesitant, not because you lacked in desire for him, but from fear of disappointment.

"I'll do whatever you want me to, my lady", Arthur replied mockingly.

"How about some food?", you asked with a smile, "Here. That's the money I've left from my shopping tour earlier." You fished a couple dollars from your bag, but Arthur shook his head.

"Keep it, ya gonna need it sooner or later. I still got some money for dinner."

So, Arthur headed out for the general store and returned ten minutes later with enough dried meats and fruits to last you a week.

You lied down, staring at the ceiling. Now this was going to be awkward. You weren't that tired yet and Arthur also didn't seem too determined to head to bed just yet. But he still sat on his side of the bed and got his journal out.

"Ya don't mind me drawin', do ya?", Arthur asked politely and opened an empty page in the journal.

"No", you answered honestly and sat up too, "can I watch?"

"Sure", Arthur said, "'s there something specific you want me to draw?"

"Remember that waterfall we passed on the ride?"

"You mean Cumberland Falls?"

"Mhm", you nodded.

"'course", and in barely a minute Arthur had outlined the most important features of the landscape. You couldn't have recalled the scenery any better, you had not the slightest doubt that every tree was placed correctly.

Arthur took his time with the drawing because he noticed, as time went by, that your body started to slump against his. Just as he had added all the shadows he had wanted to, he heard your heavy, steady breathings. The subtle scent that enveloped you was intoxicating, and the softness of your features in the warm glow of the oil lamp fascinated him. Your features looked so peaceful and inviting, Arthur wanted to bury his head in your arms. But he resisted the urge in order not to disturb your sleep.

Slowly, he draped an arm around your shoulder, pressing you gently against him as heshifted your position from sitting to a more comfortable lying position. He halted, his heart pounding when you opened your eyes. 'Please don't flinch away, please don't reject me' he thought. But you didn't, you smiled slightly and snuggled up to him. It was at this very moment, that Arthur had felt an amount of hope he had never felt before. It was a profound sense of possibility that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The second day had passed in Strawberry with the soon soon to be disappearing behind the mountains. As the day before, you sat on the bed and Arthur opened his journal. You watched as his pencil wrote words that you couldn’t read. The least you could do it appreciate how handsome his handwriting looked.

"Y/N woke me early today. I thought lying low meant a break from the work and chores - but no. She wants to gather some money so she can say she followed a lead and not saved me from the O'Driscolls. We went fishing and hunting. I shot a cougar, pelt was real fine. Also some birds for feathers. The post clerk gave us a hint for a stage we can rob tomorrow."

You noticed when Arthur had finished the text, as his pencil wasn’t moving on the paper anymore and the last line he had set looked very final. You sat up a little in anticipation of a drawing: “What are you going to draw?”

“Maybe the cougar?”

You didn’t need to reply, Arthur had already started with the outline of the animal.

"Third Day of lying low in Strawberry.

We was told the stage coach is best robbed quietly. Of course, y/n wanted to just start shooting. I convinced her to use dynamite. We were done with the guards quickly and the take was ok. I also remembered a fella telling me about Watson's house. We robbed the old hag blind. She had a shotgun stored away, I offered it to y/n but apparently it’s “too uncivilized and not her style”."

“It’s rude to stare”, Arthur remarked and shot you a glance as you were sitting on the chair in the corner, “Come here.” Arthur patted the bed next to him.

“No. Stop telling me what I should do”, you said. Your tone was annoyed but Arthur knew that you didn’t mean to offend. You had been a little pissed earlier when you had a disagreement on how to rob the stagecoach, but this was different. He knew you were teasing as a way of punishing him for interrupting your thoughts.

“I know you want to come here. I’m gonna start drawing without you”, Arthur carefully arranged the pillow so you could sit next to him.

He was right. And you weren’t sure if you liked that or if you wanted to grant him this little win. You supressed a smile: “I hate you.”

“Yer doing an awful job of showing it, so I doubt it”, Arthur chuckled.

You sighed and stood up to walk over to the bed: “I did at first. But it’s harder to hate you if all I thought was despicable about you…turns out I don’t despise it so much.”

“It’s what Micah told you about me before we even met, got that right?”, Arthur said, content to see you settled next to him. He started a sketch of the view you had on the ridge when you waited for the stagecoach.

You nodded and rested your head against Arthur’s arm: “You did exceed my expectations.”

“The bar couldn’t have been too high if you believed everything Micah’s told ya”, Arthur said. He handed you the tobacco and paper and let you roll a cigarette while he sketched on. When you struck a match and a little spark flew on Arthur’s journal, he brushed it away without a care, not saying a word of or cursing you for being inattentive.

The deafening roar of thunder roused you from your slumber and startled you awake in the early hours of the morning. As you slowly gained consciousness, you wondered how the torrential downpour outside hadn’t stirred you earlier. The raindrops were big and heavy and pounded merciless upon the rooftop and the window glass.

You crawled out of bed and made your way to the window. Despite the darkness with heavy clouds covering moon and starts, you could still make out the gushes of water that were coming down the skies.

"Good thing you suggested stabling the horses", you mumbled, your words almost swallowed by the overwhelming noise.

Arthur grumbled and turned in bed, he was barely awake: "Ya coming back to bed?"

His voice was drowsy. The cold air was getting to you quickly, and you regretted leaving the warmth of the bed in first place. Turning around, you gazed upon Arthur’s form, dimly illuminated by the soft glow of the flickering oil lamp at the room’s corner.

In that moment, it struck you. This was the first time you truly realised that you shared a room - a bed with a man who you had come to trust. You liked him a lot. And despite having more than one opportunity, spending pretty much every waking hour with you the last three days, he hadn't tried to make a move. He was being very respectful, only ever putting his arm around you when the opportunity was right, but never ever pushing for more proximity. It was a level of consideration and restraint that surprised and touched you deeply. Probably because you weren’t used to it.

"Y/N it's getting cold...", Arthur mumbled, referring to the empty spot in the bed next to him. As you approached bed again, Arthur shifted to the spot you had vacated, a cold patch of linen that he now warmed with his body. Half aspleep, he pulled back the blanket, inviting you to take his still-warm place beside him.

Without saying something, and probably barely registering what he was even doing, Arthur tugged you in and then spooned you, his head conveniently finding the curve of your neck. Your heart rate picked up; you hadn't been so close before.

It was a weird sensation to have someone breath hot air down your neck, his arm was snaked around you, leaving you no room for escape. However, the coldness you had felt out of bed soon was gone, replaced by the warmness that radiated from Arthur’s body. It calmed you down. You got used to the sensation of his breath on your neck. Gradually, you grew accustomed to the sensation of his breath against your neck. Heck, you even started to like it. You tried to synchronize your own breaths with his. Soon, with Arthur’s warmth and steady breathing, sleep reclaimed you.

The white noise of rain falling was still present when you opened your eyes again some hours later. You had turned onto your back; Arthur wasn't spooning you anymore. When you turned your face to his, his eyes tiredly blinked back to you. You wanted to sit up, but Arthur quickly caught your arm and held it: "You ain't dragging me out of bed so early today."

You looked out of the window. The sky had turned grey, and the rain was still falling.

"Wasn't planning to...", you mumbled.

After what felt like an eternity of lying still and counting the boards on the ceiling, you turned your face to Arthur. He was lying on his side, turned towards you. His eyes fluttered open as if he had felt your gaze on him. He watched you as you shuffled closer ever so slightly. You weren't even sure what was it that pulled you closer to him, but with your heart pounding relentlessly, you finally closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips met tenderly for a very slow and drowsy kiss. Arthur savoured every second of it.

Unconsciously, his hands wandered up to your face and he halted only a moment before he would have cupped your cheek. He wasn't sure if you'd want that. But he did feel a bit awkward when the kiss ended, and his hand lingered in the air over you in an unaddressed manner. Your cheeks were clearly flushed, and Arthur's eyes showed hope and surprise.

"Your beard needs a trim", you commented sheepishly.

"Yes ma'am", Arthur replied, a smile forming on his lips. This time, he was the one who closed the distance, finding the courage to place his hand on your cheek, cupping it gently. The second kiss was longer and more passionate. You had no intention of backing out. It felt like having your first kiss all over again, with the butterflies in your stomach going wild.

It was over sooner than you hoped, but Arthur went on to pepper your cheeks and neck with little kisses, his beard tickling quite a bit in the process. Then he stopped and simply lied down in his initial position, next to you on his back. Though your hand found his and held it loosely, just to ensure some touch between you.

"Sorry I wasn't ready sooner", you said.

"What are ya even talking about?", quipped Arthur.

"Just...making you wait and all tha-"

"You didn't make me wait", he quickly established, "Who said that I was ready? I wasn't ready either. Hell, I don't even know if I was ready now because my brain feels like it has been smashed on a wall. And I have you to blame you for that!"

"You do know how to make a lady feel special", you chuckled.

"Sure", Arthur snorted, "keep tellin' yaself that if that means I get to kiss ya again."

You grinned sheepishly, sat up and leaned over Arthur to give him another kiss. It just felt so safe to do it. The way he still held your hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. He was entirely at your mercy, his blue eyes scanning your face the moment you moved away, pleading for another kiss which you readily granted.

"We won't ride back to camp today, huh", you said after a while, watching the rain.

"No, no use for that. We'll just drown in mud."

When you got out of bed, Arthur hurried to get his pants on, leaving you to guess what that haste was all about. The welcoming centre, as it so happened, was filled with a bunch of people. Your room neighbour and two other men who had found refuge from the storm here at night. Breakfast was shared and someone had brought a deck of cards. You and Arthur mingled with the group, playing Poker and Blackjack pretty much the entire day. Sometime after lunch it had stopped raining. Before evening, the sun was coming out from behind the clouds.

It was later decided that you'd head back to camp right now, traveling through the night and probably arrive early in the morning. There'd almost be a day between you and Arthur coming back, as not to raise suspicion that you spent the time together. You walked to the stables together, boots covered in wet soil when you said:

"At camp...you know that we can't..."

Arthur sighed and lit himself a cigarette: "I know. Micah's the problem, isn't he?"

"He'd kill us both if he found out", you mumbled, a hundred percent believing the words you had just said.

"Would rid the world of some filth for sure", Arthur joked and earned an arm slap.

"Didn't mean you, darlin'. Yer an angle", he teased.

He then watched you saddle your horse. You checked if you've got the money. Hunting, robbing and gambling had brought you a take of almost 200 dollars, enough to count as a solid lead and to excuse your long absence.

"See ya tomorrow", you said.

"Don't get yourself killed on the ride back."

"Mhm", you grinned, "You neither. Without me protecting you."

Arthur had the most beautiful smile, you realised. He had grinned and shook his head as response to your answer. It made you unbelievably happy. And then you rode off.

When you rode up to Clemen’s point, it was Charles on guard duty. You acknowledged this with relief, because out of everybody, he'd not be someone to plague you with questions.

"Y/n, we worried about you", he said, his voice laced with true compassion.

"Yeah...I'm fine", you smiled awkwardly.

"Where've you been?", he asked so innocently, a question stemming from pure curiosity.

"Ehrm...out and about. Hard to explain, really..."

"When's Arthur coming?"

"What?"

"Arthur. He was with you, wasn't he?", Charles asked. The innocence seemed to be replaced by an air of knowledge. He knew, somehow, he knew. You were aware that he was a great observer...but this good?

"I...don't know", you lied. But seeing Charles' raised eyebrows, you sighed in defeat: "He'll be back by tomorrow morning."

Charles nodded in acknowledgement.

"Guess I figured out why you had a change of heart", he said with a smile. It was a subtle hint towards your changing attitude at camp.

"Mr. Smith", you grumbled warningly.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. But you should come up with a proper excuse, because Miss Grimshaw is furious you disappeared."

Turns out that not even 200 dollars could get you out of a scolding. You had to hear all of it. Sneaking away, disregarding your healing process, not being present to support the gang. Anyone who walked by or overhead your scolding was quite sympathetic. Even Dutch patted you on the shoulder when he walked you over to the donating box and watched you put the money inside.

To make up for your days away, you were put to work immediately. You had to help manage the horses and soon were sent off to a mission with Micah. It’s safe to say that when Arthur arrived at camp in the afternoon, you were exhausted from a night without sleep and a day full of work. It left no time to catch up with Arthur or asking him about his travels. You overslept the next morning, missing the little window which you usually shared with him, talking about your day and drinking coffee.

You weren’t sure how you had imagined it, but there was barely a minute in which you and Arthur were alone. And then, suddenly, events started to happen one after another. You went to town with the boys, found it deserted and one minute later you had the brains from the Irish boy all over your face. You had barely returned and helped to bury his still warm body, when the message spread that Jack had been taken by some Braithwaites.

When more guns were needed to get the boy back, you offered yourself willingly, fuelled by rage. You loved Jack. You had played with him so often that the thought of him gone was sickening. You understood Abigail’s fears and yet you tried to be somewhat restrained, because Micah was there and he’d certainly frown at your behaviour. But there was no Micah at the manor, so when you still kicked in doors after the place had caught fire, Arthur was suddenly by your side, urging you to leave the house.

“We sure he ain’t here?!”, you said, still ripping open closets.

“Yes. Come on, y/n”, Arthur put a hand on your shoulder and guided you out. Maybe, if he hadn’t been there to collect you, you would have been buried in the rubbles of this place with the wretched mother.

Then you moved to Shady Belle.

Jack was back with you within a week. You helped Grimshaw and Arthur to get Tilly back and stabbed the Foreman when Arthur didn’t deem it necessary.

“Tilly wanted him to tell his stupid gang-“

“His corpse will tell enough”, you answered.

Then Arthur was busy with the mayor, with robbing a boat, and finally, Shady Bell was attacked by the O’Driscolls. You watched in awe as Sadie butchered more O’Driscolls than you managed to get in front of your guns.

The only time you and Arthur had some time alone away from camp is when he had you tag along to help the Indians.

It was a young man named Eagle Flies who greeted you on a hill with a nice view on the oil factory. “You came”, he stated.

“’course I came. Said I would”, Arthur mentioned as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You took a friend with you, I see?”, Eagle Flies looked at you a bit sceptically.

“She’s back-up”, Arthur explained.

“Hope we won’t need that”, Eagle Flies commented before he explained to Arthur what he needed to steal.

You were left behind with the native as Arthur hid in the back of the waggon to sneak into the place. You didn’t say much, only listened to a couple of words he told you about the situation he and his people was in. Barely half an hour later, Arthur was back with the papers he was told to steal.

You hurried up to Arthur’s room, using it as an opportunity that Micah wasn’t at camp and everybody else was busy with planning the details of the heist. You intently knocked on the door.

“Yes”, Arthur replied. He knew that it wasn’t Marston or Miss Grimshaw, because they never had bothered to knock. But when he saw you come in and swiftly closing the door behind you, his shoulders relaxed and his lips curled into a smile. “Y/N”, he breathed, relieved to see you and happy that this meant you had a moment together, alone.

“Hey”, you replied briefly, “Are you okay, Arthur? Are you sure about this bank heist?”

Your uncertainty irritated Arthur, but he’d try to reassure you that they had a plan. You had been assigned to stay at camp and to take care of the rest of the people, in case anything went wrong.

“It’s Hosea’s planning and I trust him when it comes to things like that”, Arthur said.

“I have robbed my fair share of city banks, and it always ends with half of my partners dead or captured”, you said, your shoulders slouching. You hadn’t been able to think about anything else since the idea had first come up.

“It’s risky, sure. But I think we are prepared”, Arthur nodded and looked at you. Arthur felt how uneasy you were though it had been some time since you last had intimate contact, Arthur gently pulled you into a hug. You wouldn’t have admitted it if he’d asked, but you had needed this. Carefully, you nestled your head against his chest and felt his hands roam your back, caressing it.

“If this works…we’ll soon get some more time for ourselves. Thing’s have been happening so fast the last weeks…”, Arthur murmured. It didn’t go unnoticed how you pressed Arthur tightly in your arms, your fingers dug through the clothes and into his flesh. There was this sense of fear in you, and despite his reassuring words, you couldn’t quite shake it. You had to push yourself away and stand on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“What was that for? Good luck for tomorrow?”

“That was for me”, you answered cheekily, a smile appearing on your lips.

Despite preparations, despite it being Hosea’s plan and not Dutch’s…it went wrong. Arthur didn’t dwell on it for long, he was occupied with surviving and getting off the damn island. He had lost a sense of awareness of how long they had been gone, and was eager to rejoin the gang, yearning to see your face again. He hadn’t thought about it…no he hadn’t even considered it that you might not be there. His gaze scanned the crammed room and he only mumbled your name out of fear of finding out something has happened.

It was Miss Grimshaw who spoke up: “Miss y/l/n left. Shortly after Molly, a couple of days ago.”

Arthur didn’t believe it. Only after he caught Charles’ eyes which seemed to confirm it.

“A rat fleeing a sinking ship…”, Micah commented through gritted teeth, “Should never have introduced her…”

Dutch was about to express his disapproval, when the Pinkertons arrived.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Phew, sorry if it's a bit messy. Had to cover a lot of ground to make it end on a cliff hanger =)

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LAST CHAPTER

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its-in-the-woods · 10 days

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 6

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning: As always minor get out. Little angst, lots of fluff, handholding,kissing, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

I think I may have an ending now. Posts will continue to be 2-3k long. Every other day more than likely. The whole fic will be around 30k words.

Thank you all again and again for taking the time to read the stories I put out.

***

Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing, your head is a little fuzzy but not nearly as bad as you’d experienced. Opening your eyes you flip the phone over to see it’s nearly twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Blinking a few times you make yourself sit up in bed flipping your phone on to see a deluge of text messages. Groaning you turn your phone off and stretch. Before any messages were answered you need coffee and maybe a shower.

Showered and suitably caffeinated you finally flip open the text messages.

Trevor:

9 am: So what happened?

9:1 5:Hello?

9:30: Look do I need to call the police?

10:30: It’s been hours….

10:32: You never texted me when you got home

11:01: Okay it’s after eleven. You never sleep in.

12:45: I am coming over in thirty minutes if I don’t hear from you.

You reply:

I am fine, I just got home super late. I hope you’re not coming over

Trevor:

You scared me!

Why didn’t you text me back?

How late were you out

Wait did you go back to his place?????

You groan squeezing your eyes close and drinking a healthy swig of coffee.

You:

We went for sushi, then went down to the beach.

Trevor:

That’s all you're giving me! What kinda 1950s dating scene is this?

You chuckle replying:

We stayed at the beach until 3 am.

Trevor: Wait did you have sex on the beach

You:

TREVOR!

Trevor:

It’s an important question. Don’t want to find out on the gossip train.

You:

why can’t I have nice things TREVOR. No there was no sex in PUBLIC, we kissed and held hands. Can I not do that????

Trevor: Are you secretly asexual? There is nothing wrong with that. I think it’s romantic.

You:

I am going to become asexual if it means you stop asking me these questions.

You could almost hear him laughing at you.

Trevor:

You like it!

You snorted and switched messages.

Walton:

10 am: Hey beautiful, wanted to check in. See how you’re doing this morning.

11 am: I was wondering about maybe going out to bar a city over next Friday?

11:10 am: Promise I am not trying to kidnap you.

12:20 pm: Thought you never slept in?

You:

Hey handsome, sorry I actually slept in. Kept me out past my bedtime.

I would love to go out with you next Friday, fingers crossed they don’t keep us late

You set your phone down, pondering if you still trusted the milk in the fridge to make pancakes. Getting up you get a refill of coffee, phone buzzing.

Walton:

If they do we can always go out saturday? Can’t be keeping you up so late. Got make sure you can keep up with this old man.

You:

Oh I am sure I can keep up with you 😉

Walton:

Careful little lady, I might have to come by and test that theory.

Your face goes bright red and that heat coils low in your belly.

You: Promises, promises,

Walton:

If I didn’t have a zoom meeting in ten minutes 😠

You:

Maybe next Friday.

You’re not sure why you’ve become a tease, but you’re enjoying winding him up.

Walton:

Monday will be more like it.

You:

😜 Your trailer or mine.

Walton:

Yours just so Trevor will stop texting me.

You let out a laugh, seemed like Trevor was also enjoying winding him up. You spend the rest of the day chatting with both of them. Sunday is a bit quieter, more zoom calls for Walt and Trevor had gone to Decon’s.

*** Monday goes by in a blur, Walton keeps his hands to himself when others are around. But it doesn’t stop him from following you behind the food tent to steal kisses. You are now sporting a permanent flush and some of your co-workers are raising eyebrows. You are ever grateful that Trevor has kept his mouth shut. Liz is as pissy as ever but seems to be letting it lay. Katie has slowly warmed up to you again, why you weren’t sure.

The rest of the week is pretty similar. Early mornings bleed into later evenings, the endless weeks have worn on you. Then Walton slides into your chair with his latest story and you feel like a weight is lifted off of you. The man once more touches you gently and gives you lingering cheek kisses as he goes over to set or costumes.

Friday night rolls around and it’s going to be a long one. You fiddle with a few of your brushes when the door opens quickly.

“We are being released. There was a fire on stage, and it looks like we are out at least until Monday,” Liz rolls in looking flustered, her normal perfect facade gone. She looks haggard and frazzled.

“There was a fire on set?” You ask sitting up and feeling much more awake. Panic shoots down the back of your neck.

“Yep, green sparky left a light on too close to set.” Liz sat in the chair grabbing cleaner. You had stayed in the trailer to start tucking things away as Walton was off-screen for the first three setups. You are out the door before she has time to say more. You stop at costumes knocking at the door.

Rebeccas opens it and looks down at you, she looks flustered but still has a smile on. “Hey, I am guessing you heard about the fire?”

“Yes, I did,” You say trying not to sound panicked, even though your mind is racing. The thought of him being hurt makes you nauseous. “Umm -is.”

Rebecca looks into the trailer, “Walt. You almost done in there?” There is a bunch of commotion going on in the trailer, with people moving back and forth, and different actors in various stages of undress.

You looked at her puzzled at how she knew you were looking for him.

Rebecca turns back to you, “He never shuts up about you, so figured that’s why you are here,” She replies, and you immediately feel flustered, clearly rumors are moving again.

“Oh- umm- Yeah. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

Walton pops his head above Rebecca his fingers nimbly button up his shirt. “Be right out.”

You blush and look away, “Sorry, I should probably go.”

Rebeca waved her hand at you, “Your secret is safe with me,” she winked. You wonder not for the first time if you were the only one who was never included in the rumor mill.

Walton pops down the stairs, and has on grey button-up sleeves rolled up, navy wash jeans. He tilts his head when he looks at you. You let out a sigh seeing him unscathed.

“You okay?” He asks, his hand touching your shoulder. You nod your head, turning to walk back towards the makeup trailer. You really don’t want to make a scene right now, there were way too many eyes on you both right now.

“I know I said we should go to the bar tonight,” Walton says, his fingers brushing against yours. You try not to grab his hands, just to know he is still there. “But maybe we should get take out at my place?”

You get to the trailer, unable to stop looking around. He looks right at you, the way he could focus on you was both flattering and unnerving. Especially as you are trying to keep things under wraps.

“Have to stop and grab a few things first.” You say trying to keep your voice from carrying. “Have you pick me up again?”

He smiles, “I would pick you up any day.”

You are bright red, as you open the door and follow the man into the trailer.

***

A large paper bag of Chinese food was acquired, along with a couple of bottles of wine. You both devest at the door, slipping off your shoes, and placing the wine on the counter. You watch him move around the kitchen. Practice ease, you watch his muscles move under his shirt. You were tired as anything but being in his kitchen, waiting to eat greasy Chinese food couldn’t have been more perfect.

You grab plates from him, laying out the smorgasbord board of different food. The two of you scooped a little of everything, before sitting down at the table and pouring some wine.

“I feel like I should apologize for having you over instead of going out somewhere,” Walton says taking a sip of wine. “I don’t want you to think I am taking advantage of you being here.”

You chuckle, “Don’t know what you mean Mr. Goggins. I thought you invited me to your place to play some chess and listen to swing jazz.”

Walton nearly loses his food at the comment, his hand covering his mouth. “Swing jazz? How old do you think I am?”

“Oh you got to be at least in your seventies,” You tease back taking a bite out of your spring roll.

Walton coughs, “I didn’t realize you where into grandfathers.”

You choke a little, “Well to be fair,” You wave your hand, “I am usually good with trying anything once.”

Walton sips on his wine eyebrows raised, “Anything?”

You nod your head, a smile spreading across your face. “Can’t say I don’t like it unless I try it.”

He puts his glass down, watching you carefully as you finish your cup. “I could make some coffee while we clean up.”

You grab his plate stacking it with your own as he grabs the glasses. You two make it over to the kitchen, there is tension in the air as you clean things up. He grabs a French press out of the cupboards aswell as some coffee and cups.

You slide over to the counter and sit on top of it. Feet kicking back and forth as you watch the man ready things. Flicking the kettle on to heat the water. He comes over and moves himself in between your legs.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He whispers, placing hands on either side of your hips. Face inches from you.

You wrap your hands lazily over his shoulders, opening your legs to let him in closer.

“No, you haven't today.” You lean in to kiss him, kissing him will never get old.

“You are stunning.” He whispers against your ear. Sending shivers down your spine. The kettle clicks and he's moving away from you. You watch him pour grinds and then water into the press.

“Why did you wait so long to ask?” You inquire, moving your feet back and forth. Letting yourself briefly wonder if maybe the question was too forward.

He turned to look at you, bottom lip caught in his teeth. “Umm-”

Leaving the coffee he came over to you. Cheeks slightly pink, he tucked his hair behind his ear.

“I - ahh. I didn't think you'd want to go out with me.”

Your mouth falls open, “Are you serious?”

He shrugs, fingers fiddling with the outer seam of your jeans. You take his hand in yours using the moment to drag him back between your legs. Once he is there, you tip Walton’s head up to look right at you.

“You're so dumb,” You grin leaning in to kiss him. He chuckles and leans into the kiss, strong arms wrapping around you. “I am also dumb, 'cause I thought the same thing about you.”

Walton pulls back looking at you, eyebrows scrunched. “Didn't you just call me dumb? Seems like we both may have missed the sign somewhere along the way.”

You grin one hand finding its way to rub along his jawline. “Took us long enough.”

He smiled, “Trevor is never going to let us live this down.”

You let out a groan, “He is beyond impossible. I am gonna have a small textbook of text messages.”

Walton’s eyes glint, and he pulls his phone out. “Why don't we give him an update.”

You can't help but laugh, “Oh absolutely!”

Walton flips his phone on turning on the camera he flips it to the two of you. You lean in and kiss him deeply as he clicks the button. The phone is placed on the counter as you wrap your legs around his waist. You pull out a deep moan that rumbles out of his chest when you bite at his bottom lip. It doesn't stop you from pushing your tongue in. Rocking your hips a little, the room feels hot.

Walton pulls away, breathless, “If you keep doing that, I am liable to forget about our coffee.”

You let out a sigh, “I suppose a little coffee couldn't won't hurt.” You unwrap yourself from him.

He moves down the counter as you slide off it. He mixes your coffee just the way you like it, handing you the cup as he fixes his own. You wait, watching him work, he turns and gestures toward the living room. You make your way over to the couch.

Folding yourself up on the end of the sofa, tucking one leg underneath the other. You sip on the coffee, it is delicious and beats any store bought. Walton comes over and sits beside you, taking a long sip of his drink. Looking out the windows you can see part of downtown and the north shore. The lights still dazzling, as the evening wore on.

“I know, before, I said I wasn’t sure you would want to go out with me,” He said looking out at the window as he spoke. “I tried, unsuccessfully to give you space. But the further I got away the more I missed being near you. Then when we went out for sushi, it all just kinda clicked. This isn’t conventional.” He gestures between the two of you. You hold your cup listening intently.

“I am, ahh, older than you. And my life is not exactly straightforward. I don’t take relationships lightly, not that this is that. Or.” You can’t suppress the smile as he tries to explain himself. “I am terrible at this. I don’t want to move too fast, but also. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You put your cup down, and gesture for him to come closer. He places his cup down beside yours and moves over. Patting your lap, he slips down and lays his head on your lap. You run your hands through his hair, his eyes close and he hums softly against your legs.

“I can’t tell you what's going to happen,” You say softly, “I am also not good at this, but I am willing to try. However fast or slow you want to go. As for the age thing, I don’t care, it’s never bothered me.”

Walton’s breath slows and his hand slips under your thigh holding you close. You sit there a while longer, letting him just relax against you. Again you are struck by how simple it is, to just sit here with a warm cup of coffee and the city lights. You could get used to weekends like this. But as always he is moving sitting up and smoothing out his hair, grabbing his cup of coffee and taking a sip.

“Would you like to come to bed with me?” He asks, you turn away from the lights. His eyes fixed on you, not hungry but curious.

“I would like that a lot,” You say licking your lips and heart pounding in your chest.

Walton stands up offering you a hand, which you take, pulling yourself to your feet. The coffee is left on the table as you follow him. Fingers laced together like they are two puzzle pieces. You pass by the guest room and there is a door at the end of the hallway. He opens it and you walk into the large room. There are floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the sea, a large king-sized bed on a wooden platform. The room is sparse, with two side tables with lamps. A large walk-in closet to your left along with a bathroom beside it. You wonder for a moment how often he has brought others back here. The thought lingers in the back of your mind as you wander over to sit on the edge of the bed. Walton has disappeared into the bathroom.

“I think I have another toothbrush in here,” He calls out, poking his head around the corner.

You smile and move towards him, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He’s blushing again and handing you the unopened toothbrush, “I–I umm. Just figure I’d offer.”

You move into the bathroom grabbing some toothpaste off the counter and leaning against it, “I appreciate it, besides don’t want to have coffee breath. Would you happen to have makeup wipes?”

Walton thinks for a moment before he scoots you out of the way, as you brush your teeth. He pops up with a bottle of cleanser and a fresh hand towel. “I knew I had it here somewhere.”

You grin and thank him, he brushes his teeth before disappearing again. You take the moment to clean off your face and neck. Looking into the mirror you got a permanent smile on your face. Letting out a happy sigh you finish up, telling yourself not to put the cart in front of the horses. You walk out and Walton is standing there shirtless, blinds drawn. He slips into a grey cotton t-shirt, that you currently hate, and black sweatpants. Sensing you staring he turns around to see you.

Chapter seven

*tiny cliffhanger. I always need at least one 😜*

*As always if you'd like to be tagged let me know! *

*reblogs, likes, and comments appreciated! *

#walton goggins #wallton goggins x reader #x reader #fan fiction #fantasy #fluff #fanfic #writing #angst #hurt comfort #au #alternate universe #older man x younger women

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cecilysass · 2 months

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Shine On (7/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 7: Across the Parking Lot

Stern’s Bakery Arlington, Virginia February 22, 2015 3:30 pm

Inside, the bakery is warm and smells of yeast and vanilla. It’s an old-fashioned looking place, with chrome tables, a glass counter and specials hand-written on a chalkboard. An older man is sweeping as they come inside, and he gives them a friendly nod. He leans his broom against the wall and walks behind the counter, seeming to anticipate their order.

“Why don’t you grab a place to sit, Scully? I’ll order for us,” Mulder suggests, although they’re the only customers, so there are plenty of tables. He lowers his voice for the benefit of the employee. “Doesn’t seem like this is the type of place to have lattes though.”

“I’ll just have coffee,” Scully says, as she turns for a table. Mulder doesn’t like the wooden expression that is still plastered across her face. She’s not acting like herself.

“Good afternoon,” the man says. He’s got thinning gray hair and an impish smile. “Welcome to Stern’s. You should try the doughnuts.”

“Thanks,” Mulder says. He’s eyeing the pastries in the case. It’s late in the day, so they’re pretty picked over, but he’s tempted anyway. “Two coffees, two of those maple doughnuts please. No—three. Three doughnuts.” He turns around and looks at Scully, who is sitting at a table next to the window, watching the car across the lot. He lowers his voice. “And… do you have a cake? Like a birthday cake? Chocolate maybe?”

“Of course,” the man says jovially. “We have chocolate birthday cake. Would you like something in particular written on it?”

Mulder frowns. “Sure.” He picks up a pen on the counter and writes “Happy birthday, Scully” on a napkin. “Can you do that?”

“No problem. Piece of cake.”

Mulder acknowledges the corny joke with a lukewarm smile. “When you’re done, can you just box it up so I can take it with me?”

“Of course.” The man leans forward conspiratorially. “Smart idea, picking up the wife a cake.”

Mulder shrugs. “It wasn’t mine.”

Before coming into the bakery, Mulder had walked back to the car to hand Jackson his coat. He knew it’d be cold in the car with the engine off, and he might need an extra layer. Scully had walked ahead, and Mulder knew she was upset. He couldn’t help but worry about it, even though he was dimly aware Jackson could be reading his thoughts.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder had said to Jackson, tossing him the coat. Jackson spread it over him like a blanket. “If you get too cold, come find us.”

“Yeah,” Jackson had said blearily, as though that wasn’t very likely.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” Mulder had added.

“Get a cake,” Jackson had mumbled, flopping down, his eyes already closed.

“A cake?”

“Birthday cake.” Jackson, opening his eyes a sliver, gestured a little in the direction Scully walked in. “It’s a bakery, right?”

Mulder had been surprised. “Right.”

“She was hoping you were surprising her for her birthday. She was hoping you called her because of that. Not bringing her a long lost kid.”

The words appear in Mulder’s mind from nowhere. She imagined reservations at a restaurant.

Mulder leaned over to meet Jackson’s barely cracked open eyes. He spoke very deliberately. “I don’t believe for one second that you saw in Scully’s mind … any disappointment. No fucking way.”

Jackson had stared back at him a second. Those green eyes that could see right into you. Literally.

Then he lay his head down and closed his eyes again.

Now, as Mulder carries two hot coffees and a bag of doughnuts back to their table, he can’t help but marvel at the idea that Scully might have been hoping he would surprise her for her birthday. What could that possibly mean? They aren’t together. Spending time together, celebrating birthday dinners together—that definitely isn’t what she acts like she wants from him. What does that imply? Is she holding things back? Is he maybe not getting the full picture?

It’s not really the most important issue right now, Mulder supposes, but it’s on his mind. And possibly Jackson’s, too, if Mulder dwells on it too long.

“Coffee,” he announces to Scully as he places her cup down in front of her. “With cream. And here is your nasty sweetener.”

“Thank you,” she says, stilted, pulling the cup and the small yellow packets of sweetener towards her.

“I got you a doughnut,” Mulder says as he sits across from her. “They’re maple. They look really good.”

He withdraws his own doughnut from the bag with a piece of butcher paper, then holds the bag out towards Scully invitingly. She stares at it blankly.

“No, thank you,” she says.

He shrugs, and takes a big bite of his. It is good, yeasty, light and chewy, with a generous slathering of maple glaze.

“So,” he says, through his mouth of doughnut. “There are a couple of things I need to fill you in on.”

“How did he find you?” Scully asks. “How did he know to come to you?”

“That’s one of them,” Mulder says, chewing. “It seems that someone helped him find me, but he won’t say who.”

“What?” Scully sits up like a rocket, and Mulder knows her well enough to be able to observe the muscles in her neck and shoulders tensing. “Mulder—”

“I know,” Mulder says, nodding. “I know. It scares the shit out of me, too. It means someone knows who he is, someone likely knows what he can do, and someone knows his connection to us.”

“We’ve got to make him tell us,” Scully insists. “It’s too important. He can’t keep it a secret.”

Mulder takes another bite of his doughnut and regards her skeptically. “Do you remember being thirteen, Scully? It’s not as easy as ordering him around.”

“But Mulder, this is a life or death—”

“You don’t make kids that age do anything.”

Scully stops, then seems to slowly deflate. “You’re right,” she says mechanically. “You’re right.” Her shoulders slump. “Especially if you aren’t really their parents.” She grips her coffee tight, and her eyes drift back out toward the parking lot.

Her defeated expression makes Mulder want to punch a wall. Once again he’s awash in the same old corrosive feelings about William: guilt, regret, heartbreak. The same feelings that he knows all too well can take him down, make him give up entirely.

But he can’t do that now, can he? The kid is here. He needs him right now. At his Agent Mulder sharpest.

He looks at Scully tentatively, wondering how to coax her back to her sharpest, too.

“You know,” he says to her. “It sounds like he had good parents. Like they did a pretty good job.”

Her eyes lock back on him. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says. He thinks of Jackson’s eyes, the feeling of warmth when describing his dad’s woodworking and his mom’s preschool. “He was loved. He felt loved.”

Scully stares back at him, and he waits, watching her eyes well up with glassy tears. He knows that Scully crying is an act that needs to be given its own space, an act that can neither be rushed or stopped. He reaches forward and envelops her hand in his.

“That’s so… I’m glad,” Scully says, her voice barely more than a whisper. She picks up a paper napkin with the Stern’s logo on it and dabs her eyes with the hand that isn’t holding Mulder’s. “But they were murdered, Mulder. What if the people that murdered them are the same people that brought him to you? What if they have an agenda we don’t understand? And what will become of him now? He’ll have so much trauma.”

“Well…” Mulder finds he can’t quite speak aloud his little fantasy, that Jackson might come live in his house, at least some of the time. That he might get to be a dad to a teenage boy, at least a little, and help him heal. That Scully might get to know her son, too. He knows it’s probably childish and unrealistic, and he isn’t sure of the effect of sharing it with Scully. “I don’t know,” he finishes. “But he has us now. We can watch out for him. I think we need to, given the unknowns.”

“You said you were certain he wouldn’t run off,” Scully says, releasing his hand, tilting her head and scowling. She knows him well enough to know where there is more to find out. “What else is there you haven’t told me?”

“Yeah,” Mulder says. He takes his last bite of doughnut, nodding slowly. “There is another thing.” He takes a swig of his coffee, considers his words carefully. “The telepathy I experienced, after I touched the artifact back in 1999… it seems to be back. In some form. Around him.”

Scully stares at him. “What are you saying? You’re reading thoughts?”

“Not everyone’s thoughts,” Mulder says. “Not like before. Just his. And not just his thoughts, but his feelings, too.”

Scully seems to be speechless.

“At first I thought it was my imagination,” Mulder says. “I thought since he was reading minds, I was remembering what that was like. And you know, I was trying to imagine what he was feeling. How scared he was. How overwhelmed, by all this big emotional stuff he was having to deal with. But then I started to understand. It wasn’t my imagination, and it wasn’t just empathy. I’m definitely hearing flashes of what he’s thinking, and feeling what he’s feeling. At least sometimes.”

“Have you… told him this?”

“No,” Mulder says. “No, but I’m going to have to. Obviously. Hard to keep secrets from a mindreader.”

Scully’s lips draw together tightly. With a jerk she tugs on the bag of doughnuts and fishes one out. She starts violently ripping off pieces and eating them. “And you’re not feeling sick, Mulder? Your head isn’t hurting?”

“No,” Mulder says. “Not like before. Not at all.” He watches her anxiously devour the doughnut. “I’m not as good at it as he is. For me, it’s just every once and a while. I think I’m feeling it when it’s especially intense for him.”

“Give me examples.”

“Well, I was just … he was walking upstairs in the house. Up to the guest room. And it just appeared in my head, his thought: I wonder what it would have been like to grow up here.”

She stops chewing, her eyes wide. “He thought that?”

“Yeah,” Mulder says.

Her lip trembles again. She places the doughnut back on top of the paper bag, looks down at it.

“Scully,” he says. He reaches out for her hand again, but she slides it away.

“So he can read my thoughts and feelings, and you can read his,” Scully says in a rough voice. “And I’m in the dark.”

“Scully,” he tries again.

“No,” she says shortly. “No. I know I’m being ridiculous.”

“It’s only natural for you to feel—”

“No. Forget it.” She shakes her head, smooths back her hair, and she seems to transform before his eyes into the respected doctor at Our Lady of Sorrows. “We need to pay attention to you, how you’re feeling,” Scully says, all business. “The last time you had this ability, it didn’t end well.”

“It doesn’t feel like that now.”

“Don’t hold anything back from me,” she says firmly. “If you’re in pain, speak up.”

“I will,” Mulder promises.

“Why does he have that effect on you?” Scully wonders.

“I don’t know,” Mulder says. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“He didn’t when he was a baby.”

“Or maybe he did,” Mulder says gently, “and I didn’t notice. When we were all together, he was so small, and everything was so emotionally intense. I might not have realized that his feelings weren’t my own or that I wasn’t simply guessing what he wanted.”

And I wasn’t around long enough to really find out, Mulder thinks. He can tell the same thought is passing through Scully’s mind, because her eyes drop again.

They’re both quiet a moment.

“We should contact Skinner about how his parents’ case will be investigated,” Scully says. “Hopefully he can get the Bureau to look into it. We need to make sure there is someone we can trust on it. And if we can, it would be good to get access to the local law enforcement’s notes on the case.”

“We’d be able to get more access as F.B.I. agents,” Mulder points out.

Scully regards him warily, sipping her coffee. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“We could ask to be reinstated.”

“On the X-files?”

“Sure,” Mulder says, “or anywhere. So we can be back in the game. Find out what we need to know. It would also give us more reason to hold Jackson in our custody.”

He’d expected Scully to scoff at the idea, but to his surprise, she doesn’t. She nods slowly, picking up another piece of doughnut and nibbling at it.

“It’s a possibility,” she says, after a moment’s deliberation. “We’d have to talk to Skinner and see what he thinks.” She looks sideways at him. “And we’d be partners?”

“I can’t imagine a new partner would put up with you, Scully,” Mulder says, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “You’re very eccentric.”

To his great relief, she smiles a little. He can’t believe that she’s even entertaining the notion at all: of going back to the FBI, of going back to the X-files, of possibly being partners again. His heart aches to think of it. He’ll never be able to keep these kinds of thoughts under wraps from Jackson.

“When we finish our coffee, let’s take him back to the house,” Scully says. “Maybe we can call Skinner there.”

Mulder nods. “Agreed.” His eyes study her. She’s gazing out the window again absently, looking towards the car, her long hair winding around her face. She looks like a woman in an Italian fresco, pensive and luminous, he thinks with a lump in his throat. He’s never known anyone more beautiful.

“Mulder,” she says, her voice wobbly, still staring outside, “is he …okay? From what you’ve seen?”

He considers how to answer the question. “He’s a good kid. He has good instincts, I think,” he says. “But he’s hurting. Grieving. Scared. And thinking about you and me—what we mean in his life—is a big bunch of extra shit to deal with.”

“Especially me,” she says softly.

“Especially you,” he agrees. “But that’s in part because he’s thought about you for a long time, Scully. He’s seen you before—in visions.”

She looks at him again, surprised. “What kind of visions?”

“You’re going to have to ask him. But he mentioned you calling out for him.”

He sees her react, pulling back slightly. She takes a sip of her coffee, nodding stiffly.

“Are you okay, Scully?”

“I’ve had dreams like that before,” she comments. “I wonder if he was seeing my dreams.”

“Maybe he was,” Mulder says in wonder. And the curious part of his brain can’t help but give that some thought, because what a fascinating thing: that Scully’s dreams would be picked up by a telepathic biological son all the way across the continent like a ham radio.

“I wish I’d had regular visions of him,” she says. She turns again to look out the window. “All those years… I would have liked to have seen him in my dreams. Gotten updates.”

He knows she would have. He knows it intimately: the sting of her longing for William, her bottomless regret.

His instinct is to climb around to sit next to her, to put his arm around her to comfort her, but he doesn’t know if she wants that from him anymore. He wishes she would ask.

He wishes she would say his name and pull his arm around her and rest her cheek against his chest. He wishes she would let him hold her for an hour, for longer, for all night. He wishes he could read her mind.

***

In the car, Jackson is breathing in, counting to four, holding for seven, breathing out. He tries to do it exactly like his therapist said, but he knows this probably isn’t the kind of mental distress his therapist had in mind.

He presses his eyes shut and tries to quiet down his shine. If he wanted to, he knows he could shine into their thoughts with no problem—the bakery isn’t that far away—but he has no desire to. He wants quiet. He wants peace.

Even so, it’s not entirely quiet and peaceful in the car. There are steady low level emissions of emotion from Scully even from across the parking lot. A constant background hum of anxiety and tension.

Jackson understands anxiety, obviously. The part of him that’s teetering on adulthood understands why she is anxious. He can even sort of sympathize. The part of him that’s still a little kid can’t help but wish she felt more … joy.

Isn’t she happy at all to see him? Mulder said she had really wanted to for a long time. But instead, every emotion she has about him—every thought, every memory—is twisted up with a kind of pain Jackson can’t even comprehend. He knows her life has been difficult; he has seen enough in her memories and Mulder’s to grasp that.

He just wishes she could somehow see him separate from all the sadness.

He sits up on the seat, Mulder’s coat tucked around his legs. He knows he needs help. He just hopes he can get it.

He massages his own temples with his fingers and tries again to relax, clear his mind.

Hey. Hey. Are you there?

He tries to project his thoughts outward in the way she taught him, thinking of them like they were radio waves.

You told me to check in. I’m checking in.

He wonders if there will be any sign whether this is working. He pauses a moment, and only hears a horn honking somewhere on the street behind him. Of course not. A sign would be too easy.

I need help. I’ve done everything you’ve said. I haven’t told them anything. But I need your help.

He waits, clearing his mind again to prepare, to make room for any response. He listens to the sounds of the busy road, to engines whirring past, tires screeching. Dimly his shine is aware of minds in each of the cars, busily going about their lives.

There isn’t an answer.

Are you getting this? Are you there?

I need help, Rose.

Rose?

He curls back down on the seat under the coat, frustrated. Maybe she can’t talk right away. Maybe the answer will come later.

He closes his eyes and enjoys the relative quiet, listening only to the sound of his own inhale and exhale.

Even in the stillness, from across the parking lot he feels the continuous thrum of Scully’s worry, a low droning buzz like a bee hive.

As he breathes in and out, he realizes it’s not just her worry he’s feeling. It’s shot through with something else, some different emotion. Something deep and fierce and glowing hot. Something he suspects must be the way Scully loves.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

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wittlesissyb4by · 3 months

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Author's Note: If you're wondering where Chapter 4 is, you're not going crazy. Due to the nature and formatting (it uses chatlogs and explicit content) it is not suited enough for this prude-ass site. I'm sorry to say, but if you want to read Chapter 4 (and all the way up to 7), you'll have to subscribe to my SubStar. I'm sorry, I wish there was another way, but I will have it available for even the least expensive option of $3. My sincerest apologies. Still, I think you'll still be able to grasp the story without missing too much context from Ch. 4 (our main character, Alan, performed a task, and was rewarded with pictures of Persephone.) I hope you can still enjoy the story below. Thanks for reading!

The White Rabbit Chapter 5 - Cockslut

I had never jerked off to the same set of pictures so many times in my life. Even when I was younger and found my Dad’s dirty magazines, my prepubescent self didn’t spank it as much as I had to the photos I’d just received from Persephone. I spent so long staring and fapping to those pictures she sent, every inch of her was embedded into my brain. Burned into my retinas like when a TV is left on for so long that it damages the display. Hell, it probably is burned into my phone screen from being up so many times.

She’s even more gorgeous than I imagined. It’s rare that something can live up to the hype you’ve been building up for it for so long. I pored over every pixel of her perfect body, examined the contours of her cheeks, the twinkle in her eyes, the crooks of that devious smile, the splotches of colors in her tattoos, specifically the one of the little white rabbit.

“That doesn’t mean that’s what she really looks like. She could be catfishing you” That tiny voice in the back of my head still whispered. But I shoved that thought aside, even after the post-nut clarity hit.

I still masturbated the way she told me to. Every single time. Fingering the head of my dripping clit through my little panties with a dildo in my mouth or ass. I didn’t last long at all. I imagined her standing over me, smiling that wicked smile, laughing at me while shoving that dildo in my mouth, or pounding me in the ass with it. I finally was able to give a face to the rubber dick I’d been shoving in my holes for so long. What I wouldn’t give to have her right there next to me, doing all the things I imagined, but in reality.

Persephone didn’t talk to me for a few days. I don’t know if she had something going on, or if she was just leaving me to my own devices, to stare longingly at her photos, to imagine scenarios of her in my head. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think it also makes subs more dependent on their Mistresses.

Without her guiding presence, I was left with this odd sort of void. No one was telling me what to do anymore. How would I know how to “fuck my slutty little asshole” if she wasn’t there to tease and berate me with her messages?

I’m not proud of what I did in her absence.

“Sorry, I had some things…come up at work.” She messaged after almost a whole week.

“It’s fine.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, like I wasn’t checking my phone every 30 seconds in hopes that she would finally respond.

“Did you do okay while I was gone?”

“Yes Mistress.” I said, hoping to leave it at that.

“My little slut was able to handle herself?”

I guess you could say that. “Yes Mistress.”

But something was eating at me. I didn’t know how to tell her, I didn’t know if I wanted to tell her. But this relationship—no matter how weird it was—had to be built on trust, right?

“I…i might’ve…” I typed out the next part, deleted it, then typed again. “I may have…found someone else…”

My heart was pounding as I waited for her response, but it didn’t take long.

“Oh?”

She wanted me to elaborate.

“Did you find a girl in real life that’ll dress you up like a sissy bitch and fuck your little butt, slut?”

I audibly scoffed at that. Like that would ever happen.

“No I…found some other people online…”

“People? As in, more than one?”

“I…yea…”

She didn’t say anything for a while. She must have been fuming.

“Are they girls? Or are they men?”

I felt myself flush, shriveling into myself. I felt so ashamed, not just because of what it was, but because I knew I was disappointing her. I was effectively ‘cheating’ on her.

“Men…😞”

Nothing happened for a second, minutes, hours— or at least that’s what it felt like. Then, Persephone is typing…

It took a long time too. She must have been writing a novel. Berating me for being such a piece of shit. I finally found a girl to fulfill my dreams, and I went and blew it as soon as she stepped away for a few days.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” She said. “Did you sext with them??”

Again, I wanted to lie, but there was no denying it now. “Yes…”

“This is it. I blew it. A girl any submissive would kill for, and I let it slip away the first chance I got.

Persephone is typing…

I was sweating, dreading what was to come. Finally, a massive text bubble hit the screen.

“LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂”

Well…that wasn’t the response I expected.

“You fucking WHORE!! Hahaha”

I felt a bit of tentative relief, still not quite sure how she was taking it.

“Did I tell you you had to do that??”

“No ma’am…😥”

“But you did it anyway?”

“Mhmm.. 😣”

“You know, this is the second time you’ve done something without my permission, and it always seems to involve cock…”

She was referring to the time I used the dildos she ‘made’ me buy. She didn’t tell me to use them, she didn’t have to, I just…did it anyway.

“Because you’re a desperate little cockslut, aren’t you?”

My immediate reaction was to deny it, the same way I’d been doing my whole life. I always told myself ‘as long as a woman was making me be a slut for men, it was fine. It’s not gay.’ But the proof was right there. Even without her around I still went out and did what I always told myself I’d never do on my own.

“I…i think so…😩”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“Tell me what you are.”

It took a second to register what she meant, but then it hit me like a truck.

“I’m a little cockslut…” I said. Just typing the words made me feel weird, but also weirdly arroused…

“Louder.”

I switched to all caps, “I’M A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!”

“No no.” She replied, “I want you to make a video. Put your little panties on, get on your dildo, and start bouncing.”

I scrambled to obey, perhaps a bit too quickly. My cock was already fully erect by the time I pulled my panties up around it. I stuck the suction cup to the floor, making the rubber dick sway back and forth, squirted a generous amount of lube on the tip, worked some between my crack, pulled my panties aside, hit the video, and started recording.

I slowly lowered myself down on it, wincing as it pressed inside my unrelaxed sphincter. There were several seconds of awkward fumbling and adjusting and lowering and gasping before it finally worked its way in and the sounds turned to sighing.

“I’m a little cockslut,” I said softly, working the dildo further into me.

“I’m a little cockslut.” I repeated, feeling it slide along my prostate.

“I’m a little cockslut!” My eyes were in the back of my head.

“I’M A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!” I practically shouted, burying the dildo all the way inside me until I was squatting down on the balls. There was no denying how good it felt to be full like that. I quickly clipped the video and sent it to Persephone.

“Don’t stop now.” She replied. “I can see you leaking in your panties. You’re loving this!!”

She was right, my panties were soaked with precum.

I bounced, swirled, grinded my hips back and forth.

“How many guys did you sext with?”

I wanted to reduce the number, but I was too horny to deny it.

“Seven” I managed to reply while still keeping rhythm.

“Seven?! That’s more than I assigned you the other day!”

She was right. What felt like such a chore before quickly became something I craved, like a lot of things she was making me do…

The dildo felt so good. I was fully relaxed now, bouncing and taking that dick like the best of them.

“How did it make you feel? Being a little whore for men and making them cum?”

“Like a slut, Goddess.”

“You fucking LOVED it, didn’t you?”

I did, and I told her so.

“Show me how much you love that dick.”

I set the camera up again, putting it in selfie mode so I could see myself bounce on the cock. I needed to shave my legs, I needed to work out more, get in better shape to get a better body so I could attract more—

Oh my GOD! It felt so good. When I leaned back it hit my spot perfectly. I crab-crawled my arms backwards, putting all my weight on my hands so I could focus on gyrating my hips.

I pulled the front of my panties to the side. I wanted her to see how hard I was. How much it made my dick swell to have something pumping in and out of my asshole. I was gonna be her little buttslut. Her little whore to pimp out like she always told me. My mind was swimming, my body was clenching, waves coursed through my legs and up to my pelvis, an immense rush came from inside my rectum and then—

The first shot caught me off guard. A huge spurt of semen flew straight up in the air. Another one went forward, spraying the floor and pretty much everything else around the room as my bouncing cock spewed like an unmanned firehose.

It took several seconds for me to register what happened, to come off the high I just experienced. To snap back to reality, to realize this even was reality. I was still gasping for breath when I slowly slid the cock out. I sat there for a second, contemplating what just took place.

I just had a sissygasm.

I’d heard of it before, but I never thought it was actually possible other than by extremely practiced sissies. Professionals. Ones that knew what they were doing because they’d done it so much and so heavily enjoyed the feeling of co—

I grabbed my phone, swiping away a glob of cum that must have landed on the screen. I contemplated not sending the video to Persephone, but I had to see what she said.

Her first several messages were a series of laughing emojiis. She even sent me an audio file of her cackling like an amused hyena. If I could have seen her face, it probably had tears of laughter leaking down the sides.

“I knew you’d get there one day, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon!!”

I let her have her fun. Berating and humiliating and teasing me for proving what a “cockslut” I am. I don’t think there was anything I could do to deny it at that point.

“Clean up your mess.” She finally said.

I spent the next several minutes lapping up the many, many puddles of cum littered around the room. The thick globs refused to come up just from me tonguing it like a dog, so I had to press my lips around them and slurp it up like a dog.

“You’re not done.” She said after I sent her the video of me gargling and swallowing some.

I looked around for a puddle I’d missed, how had she seen something that I couldn’t?

“I’m not sure where, Goddess…?”

Was it my panties? They *were* quite wet, did she mean my panties? But she soon clarified:

“The dildo 😈”

My stomach churned as I looked back at the rubber dick I’d just violated my ass with. “Oh Goddess…please no…”

This wasn’t me faking some sort of trepidation in order for her to have another chance to belittle me, this was genuine disgust.

“I know it’s gross, honey. But if i’m gonna whore you out you’re going to have to get used to going ass to mouth. There are some very callous men out there…”

“Please…please don’t make me 🥺”

“I’m sorry, sissy, it has to be done. Let this be a lesson for you to keep yourself clean at all times. You need to be doing regular enemas. You never know who’s gonna stop and bend your bimbo ass over! Now get to cleaning. And don’t try to wipe it down first either, I can see the glistens of lube.”

Damn, that was my backup plan. There was no getting out of it. Well…there was. I could just stop talking to her altogether. Draw the line. Quit right here and now. But was I really going to let a dirty dildo ruin what we have? I’d probably never get this opportunity again. (Not to clean my ass juices off a fake dick—but have a powerful woman tell me what to do.)

I leaned in close, turning up my nose, trying to block out the faint, pungent smell. The fake black dick at least hid any damning streaks I may not have had the stomach to see.

After tapping record on my phone, I tentatively opened my mouth and stuck my tongue to the tip, cringing at the taste that was probably more lube than anything else. I made a mental note to get the flavored stuff if this was going to be a regular occurance.

A regular occurance? What was happening to me?? I went from wanting to be dominated by a stranger, to wearing panties, dirty talking creepy men, shoving dicks in my holes, and then shoving those dirty dicks back into my mouth. I never imagined wanting to be dominated would lead to me doing such depraved things. But here I was, slurping the lube off of a dick I just used to make myself cum without even touching my own dick.

“I think you missed a spot…” Persephone said, “go deeper.”

I wonder if she enjoys this. Like genuinely enjoys watching guys in panties gag and sputter on a dirty dildos. Then again, I can think of several females I screwed over in the past that would probably pay good money for this very video.

“Now the balls…”

If it was able to sparkle, it would have by the time I was done with it. My mouth was full of all sorts of conflicting flavors like cum, lube, and god knows what else.

“Smack your face with it a few times, just for giggles!”

Oh how far I’d fallen. If only I had known at the time that this was only the very beginning.

“Did you have fun?” She asked after it was all said and done.

“Yes Goddess,” I said, even without being horny anymore, I found myself being truthful.

“You like being my little slut?”

“YES Goddess!”

“Good. Because I have another assignment for you…”

~~To Be Continued~~

#the white rabbit #white rabbit

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dilfspitdrinker · 11 months

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Let The Light In | Joel Miller x reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: woohoo ch 4!!! I almost posted this from work I was so excited to get it out there. Once again thank you to everyone who's reading, literally come over here and gimme a kith ^3^ Masterlist

Chapter 4

You spent the rest of the day waiting for the call. Around 9:30 pm, you laid in bed, phone in hand, just staring at it. No matter how many possibilities you ran through, you truly had no idea what Joel was going to say. That can never happen again? Let’s just forget about it? Let’s hook up? Yeah right. There was no way he was interested in you like that. He was probably just into… casual making out? You pictured him doing the same with a random woman in a bar while you were at his house watching Sarah. The image didn’t quite fit. He didn’t seem like someone who would go for casual… but then again, it’s not like you knew him that well–

You jumped at the shrill ringing of your phone, fumbling and nearly dropping it on your face. You answered with an enthusiastic, “Hi!” grimacing as soon as it left your mouth. You sure sounded excited over a phone call that was likely going to end in disaster.

“Hey darlin’, how’re you doin’?” He sounded like he was in a good mood, as if there was absolutely nothing pressing to discuss.

“Pretty good, how about you?”

“I’m quite alright, thinkin’ about you.”

So what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Against your better judgement, you went the flirty route, “Yeah? Been doing that a lot lately, or what?”

He chuckled, running a hand over his face. You didn’t even know how much of a hold you had on him. “Yeah, you do it to me darlin’.”

You were sure you had the biggest, dumbest smile on your face.

He asked if you’d eaten dinner, you told him about your favorite takeout spot. He talked about about a restaurant nearby with similar food, and you pressed the receiver closer to your ear. Even through the phone, his voice reverberated through your chest warmly. Warm and smooth like a good wine, you thought. With enough, you could get drunk on it.

“You mind looking after Sarah tomorrow evening? We’ve got a job that I think will run late.”

“Yeah, no problem!”

“Thank you darlin’, sorry for the short notice.”

While he talked about the job he and his crew would be working on, you stared absentmindedly at the friendship bracelet Sarah made you. The brightly colored strings created a sunset gradient. You used the same colors but a different pattern for hers.

You grew more anxious as you sensed the conversation winding down. You knew it was coming. He was surely letting you down easy with the small talk this whole time. In a matter of minutes you’d officially be too embarrassed to look him in the eye ever again. If you were lucky, he might just fire you.

“Alright darlin’, I don’t wanna keep you up too late. You have a good night now.”

You automatically returned the good night, because you didn’t know what the hell else you were supposed to say. Sure, you could've brought it up yourself, but-

As soon as he hung up, you rolled over and smashed your face into the pillow, groaning. You figured he’d want to pretend like it never happened, but not like that.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * ·

You tried not to think about Joel the next day, which was a nearly impossible feat. Your mind constantly slipped back to the feeling of him holding you, so insulated from the world in his arms.

It was a mellow evening with Sarah. You cooked your homemade macaroni and cheese and forced her to have a serving of broccoli. The first time you made this recipe for her, she instantly declared it was her favorite food. And she wouldn’t admit it, but she liked the broccoli too, only the way you made it.

She finished the bracelet she promised her dad she’d make for him. It had the same sunset colors as yours and her own, but with a more complicated looking pattern.

By the time Joel got home, Sarah was in bed and you were on the couch, homework splayed out over the coffee table. You tried your best to look concentrated.

He kicked off his boots, “Sarah good today?”

“As always.”

He made his way over to the fridge, and you watched as he cracked open a beer. “You want one?” he offered.

You bit your lip, “I kinda do, but I’m hoping to finish this paper tonight.”

“What’s it for?”

“Philosophy.”

“You’re gonna need one,” he popped open another bottle, then sauntered over and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

You chuckled, taking a long swig, enjoying the coolness of it. You weren’t much of a beer person, but by the taste of it, Joel didn’t buy the shitty stuff.

He sat next to you, the couch cushion dipping, practically urging you to lean into his side. You chose not to.

You didn’t mean to drink your beer as quickly as you did, it just happened since you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself. You could hardly concentrate on your paper with Joel next to you, and you didn’t know what to say, so you just kept busy by drinking. The warmth that bloomed in your belly was enough to ward off the anxiety jitters.

Joel wondered if you were a lightweight when he noticed how your cheeks glowed pink. You looked so pretty, you pulled a smile from him without even trying, without even knowing. Your eyes were trained on a book sitting open on the table, but it didn’t seem like you were reading. He could only wonder what was going on in your head. As for himself, he was a simple man: he’d been dying in the heat all day, and the only thing he wanted was a beer and his girl.

In the back of his mind, it worried him how possessive of you he suddenly was. But in the front of his mind, his full attention was on the way your lips were wrapped around the bottle, neck exposed as you finished off your drink.

“Thanks,” you said simply. You wouldn’t look at him.

“Course.” He studied your demeanor for a moment, then continued in hopes of getting you more conversational, “You know, somewhere in there I got a recipe book for cocktails and all the stuff for it. Haven’t used it in a long time, think I should break it out again?”

“I do like a tequila sunrise,” you bit your knuckle.

Noted. “You like margaritas?”

You hummed in affirmation. Still not even twitching in his direction.

Time to quit the telepathy attempts, staring at you wasn’t getting him anywhere. He grabbed your chin, making your doe eyes look right at him, “What else do you like?”

No way to avoid his gaze now. You answered, wondering if he was even still talking about drinks, “Don’t know. Haven’t tried much else, guess I don’t go out enough.”

His thumb rubbed along your jaw. “Don’t mean to interrogate ya, but,” he threw back the rest of his beer and quickly set it down, shifting toward you on the couch, “what’s got you all shy?”

You froze, and you could’ve sworn even your blood stopped flowing. You found your voice, but not the words to go with it, “I- I just, I don’t know, I thought-“ you let out an exasperated sigh, “Nevermind. You’re right, we should just pretend like it never happened.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Who said we were doin’ that?”

You stared at him, fighting to keep the words from spilling out and making a bigger mess, “I thought… since we didn’t talk about yesterday, you’d rather just forget about it.”

He was stunned that you’d even think that. He made you think that? Well… what else were you supposed to think? Your only experience was with idiot boys doing one thing and meaning another. Of course you’d be confused, he was screwing around kissing his kid’s babysitter and leaving with no explanation. Knowing he needed to right this immediately, he released your chin and took your face into his hands, “No, no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear with you. Forgettin’ about it is the last thing I want.”

You looked up at him, eyes full of sweetness and youth and too-good-for-him. He knew it was selfish to want you, to rob you of regular college relationships and get you tangled up with a single dad. But who was he, if not a selfish man at heart?

He leaned in and captured your lips.

You could hardly believe it. Had he wanted this – you – the whole time? Him kissing you in your apartment yesterday wasn’t just some weird way of consoling you? Now that you thought about it, it was almost laughable how much doubt you let seep into your mind, when it was really so simple. You two fucking kissed. And now you were kissing again, and it felt like you’d gotten a second chance at life. And yet your hands remained frozen in your lap, aching to touch him, but still afraid of taking it too far. Whatever that meant at this point.

He whispered against your lips, “There’s no need to be shy, baby.”

You readily took that as permission to let go of your worries. Your lips melded together again as you freed your hands to roam his chest and shoulders. Those broad shoulders that you wished would just engulf you already. You drew his bottom lip between your teeth, feeling how the corners of his mouth tugged upwards.

“There you go,” he encouraged.

You were obsessed with the way his lips slotted so perfectly against yours. With the size of his hands as they pulled you closer. The heat radiating off his body.

A few sheets of paper noisily fell from the coffee table, making him break the kiss. He set them back in their place. “Sorry darlin’, I’m distracting you from your work.”

“It’s not getting done tonight,” you crawled over him.

His hands found their place on your hips, eagerly squeezing. You hungrily took his tongue into your mouth, shamelessly delighted at the way it swirled. You were hovering over him, but he pushed your hips down until you were sat on his thigh. His heart quickened as you rested your weight on him. He had to remind himself to not press his fingers into your flesh too hard. But it was just hard enough to have you struggling to keep your composure.

He said breathlessly, “Let me take you out.”

You paused, thinking you hadn’t heard him correctly, “What?”

His confidence wavered, but he wouldn't back out now. “Let me take you out on a date.”

You pulled further away to get a good look at him, “You want to?”

“Of course I do,” his brows furrowed, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged. Truthfully, you thought even if this thing advanced, he’d treat you more as a side piece. Not in a disrespectful way, you just didn’t expect him to… date you. You were babysitting his kid, and way younger than him, and those were just the two biggest reasons. You thought he wouldn’t be interested in anything as time consuming and emotionally investing as dating, especially not dating you.

The sound of a door opening made you two practically jump away from each other. No one emerged from the hall, but there was another sound of a door opening and closing. Joel sighed quietly in relief, “She’s just going to the bathroom.”

“I’ll get out of here,” you stood and quickly gathered your things.

He grabbed your hand, “Hey, I’m serious. I’ll call you tomorrow. And shoot me a text when you get home.”

“I will,” you promised, and without giving yourself another second to hesitate, sealed it with a kiss. You almost wanted to laugh in disbelief. A goodnight kiss, like you were together or something.

It hit you on the drive home. No fucking way. You and Joel fucking Miller just made out on his couch like fucking teenagers, and he asked you out. What kind of date was this going to be? Classic dinner and a movie? Fancy wine and dine? Something more outside the box and spontaneous? It excited you to think about how little you still knew about him, and how much more you’d soon find out.

Chapter 5

Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou game #joel the last of us #joel tlou

130 notes · View notes

laracrofted · 9 months

Text

baby, i'm high octane (v)

synopsis: on fourth of july, nora and jake dance around each other.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors dni, swearing, alcohol consumption, existential dread, pining and yearning, kissing, no smut here but come back for the next chapter (wc: 7K)

note: i'm sorry for being so slow. i rewrote this chapter like eight times, i'm not even kidding. i also apologize in advance for where i ended this chapter, but the good news is we'll have seven chapters instead of six 😌

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tagging // @theharddeck @frenchyjuju @bioodforbiood @cursedtobe @roosterbruiser @t-nd-rfoot @bethbunnyy @filmflux @djs8891 @mayhemmanaged @sometimesanalice @eli2447 @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @dempy @mlibbydp @stvrlighttsworld @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35

June slips away over the weekend, a quiet and unassuming end.

As June fades into July, Sunday becomes Monday becomes Tuesday and so on until soon enough, Fourth of July has arrived and more importantly, so has a long weekend.

God bless America.

On the morning of the Fourth, Nora sleeps in for once.

She wakes up a few minutes before 11:00 AM and refreshed – or at the very least, a little less tired than usual – and reaches for her phone, which is once again, buried under her pillows.

A slew of unread notifications are waiting for her when Nora rolls over and looks at the screen.

Two missed calls. Eleven unread messages. One unread email Nora has definitely been meaning to read for a week now. Definitely.

She ignores the email – because really, what's one more day? – and scrolls through the rest of the notifications.

Natasha, 9:40 AM: Are you awake?

Natasha, 9:41 AM: I'm going with no because I knocked and didn't get an answer.

Natasha, 10:00 AM: We're heading out to North Coronado Beach in 10-ish. Payback is bringing his girlfriend. Come join us when you're awake if you'd like!

Bradley, 10:05 AM: Do you have any sunscreen I could borrow?

Bradley, 10:06 AM: Phoenix really wants you to come to the beach btw.

Her smile grows as Nora scrolls down and discovers a message each from the rest of the Naval aviators and even one from an unsaved number with a Louisiana area code that she has to assume is Javy.

"Oh my god," Nora laughs. A loud and delighted sound in the soft quiet of the morning. Natasha’s persistence is both amusing and very touching.

She sends Natasha a quick I'm awake, just need to get dressed as proof of life and stares at Jake's message for a solid 30 seconds, gnawing on the edge of her bottom lip.

She swears under her breath and clicks on the message.

Jake, 10:30 AM: So are you really sleeping or are you just afraid to face me in beach volleyball?

Nora, 10:58 AM: Sorry, who is this?

He responds less than a minute later.

Jake, 10:59 AM: Ha ha

Jake, 10:59 AM: Come to the beach.

Jake, 11:00 AM: Javy and I need another person.

Nora, 11:01 AM: Have you looked on Tinder?

Jake, 11:02 AM: For volleyball, smart ass. We're playing 3 on 3.

Jake, 11:02 AM: Everyone wants you to come.

Jake, 11:02 AM: I want you to come.

She's never been so grateful to be alone than right now. No one else should have to witness the stupidly wide smile pulling at her lips right now, uninvited. She reads the message again, feeling kind of giddy, which is actually kind of ridiculous.

Like objectively ridiculous.

She is kind of ridiculous. This is getting out of hand.

Like on Sunday morning for instance.

She had woken up in the aftermath of Bradley’s party and that damn dream and remembered the night before in such excruciatingly vivid and cinematic detail – high resolution and state-of-the-art surround sound, like the goddamn IMAX of sex dreams – that she had to deep clean the entire apartment as a distraction.

A several hour get up close and personal with the checkered blue in the bathroom, wondering whether it's ever been cleaned, and later, in a sudden panic, open all of the windows in case you've accidentally poisoned yourself with bleach fumes deep clean.

Her one goal? Don't think about Jake.

So Nora wiped down the counters and didn’t think about Jake and vacuumed the living room, between and under the couch cushions included, and didn’t think about Jake and scrubbed the shower and didn’t think about Jake so hard that Nora needed an actual shower afterward. A cold one.

"Get a grip," Nora says out loud now.

She looks out of the window and sees nothing but a clear and cloudless blue. A perfect beach day.

She'll go, of course.

She'll go because Nora loves the beach – and always has – and because Natasha was kind enough to invite her and because Nora wants to meet Reuben's girlfriend and hang out with all of them.

No other reason.

She wonders, not for the first time, not even for the first time this week, when she became so well versed in lying to herself.

She blows out a prolonged breath and responds to Natasha.

Nora, 11:05 AM: I'll be there in 30.

"Not playing, Rogers?"

Noon is bright and beautiful and clear as Nora lowers her sunglasses ever so slightly and glances up from her book at Bradley. Blinding sunlight pierces her blue eyes almost immediately, and she has to hold up a shielding hand to be able to see him.

Hand still raised, Nora shakes her head in answer.

She had definitely overpacked for the beach. She always does, wanting to be prepared.

A well-worn paperback from her nightstand. Sunscreen. A reusable water bottle. An assortment of snacks. A portable phone charger. Chapstick. A claw clip. More snacks. An old film camera, in case Nora feels inspired.

(She loves the way California looks on film. All faded blues and greens.)

After seeing Reuben serve, Nora had never been more grateful for her own overpacking. Natasha and Reuben alternated subbing in for Nora on Jake and Javy's side, and Nora found a good patch of sand on the sidelines where she can watch from a minimum safe distance.

Nora loves a good bit of healthy competition, like all Leos do, but she's nowhere near competitive enough to play with them. She's much happier here.

"I decided I don't need a concussion," Nora says simply.

"We would've gone easy on you," Bradley protests immediately. His grin is just mischievous enough that Nora doesn't believe him.

"Now I'm convinced," Nora drawls dryly.

Bradley laughs, bending over and reaching into the cooler that Reuben's girlfriend, Gracie – a pretty nurse with a deceptively powerful spike – brought. It's filled with lemonade and water and soda and at the very bottom, beer.

His hand sloshes around in the ice until Bradley pulls a couple of beers from the depths. He offers one to Nora wordlessly.

She is still drinking a can of cold brew from La Colombe so Nora waves him off. He drops the second beer back into the cooler with a faint splash and closes the lid.

"Scooch over," Bradley asks and nudges her leg with the side of his sandy foot.

A cool breeze blows in from the ocean as Nora moves over, and Bradley smells like a summery mixture of coconut sunscreen and sweat, dropping down next to her.

He had to dive for a pass in the last game, and his calves are sandy as Bradley kicks out his legs and buries his toes in the sand.

Ice cold condensation rolls down the side of Bradley's fresh can of beer and drips down his arm onto Nora's legs. She sets her book aside with a frown, not wanting him to drip water on the pages, which are already a little wrinkled from her dropping it in a pool once.

She crosses her legs. Wipes the water from her skin.

Her damp palm smears across his bare shoulder as Nora wipes the water on him. Just to be annoying. She's surprised – and kind of alarmed – by how warm Bradley's skin is, scorching.

His shoulders are already a concerning shade of pink, and Nora asks, "Did you even put on the sunscreen I brought you?"

His chin dips in a nod, and Nora can see smudges of sunscreen residue around his reddening ears. "I burn easily."

He cracks open the beer with a crisp pop and fizz sound, like a sound effect from a Bud Light commercial. A wave of foam rapidly rises, and Bradley slurps it down with a muttered curse, only barely avoiding spilling it all over his lap.

"You should put on more," Nora says. She looks at his back and grimaces. "You're like giving off heat right now."

Another sip, and Bradley lets out an exaggerated ah! sound. "Are you offering to put it on for me? If you wanted to rub my shoulders so badly, you could've asked."

"It's a spray," Nora deadpans.

He visibly holds back a grin, mustache twitching, and Nora rolls her eyes.

Bradley pulls his sunglasses down with a crooked pinky and absentmindedly watches the current game over the edges of the golden rims. Drinks his beer. Reuben, Mickey, and Gracie are facing off against Jake, Javy, and Natasha right now while Bob is refereeing.

She pulls her book back into her lap and leans her chin on her open palm, reading, interpreting his silence as the end of the conversation.

Silly her, right?

She only manages to get through another paragraph and a half when Nora is interrupted again.

"So..." Bradley cuts in casually. "What's up? I feel like I haven't seen you all week."

Her brow scrunches as Nora frowns slightly. "You've seen me."

A drop of sweat rolls down his neck as Bradley shakes his head. "Barely."

"We had lunch yesterday," Nora reminds him. Did Bradley fall on his knees or on his head during that last dive?

"You're usually around more, like in the Ready Room, but I hung out in there a few times between drills, and you were always gone."

"I was in the hangar," Nora explains, deliberately oblivious. She knows Bradley is asking after the why – not the where.

"Why?" Bradley asks, directly so Nora can't dodge him again. She makes a face.

Why, indeed.

Frankly, because Bradley happened to be paired with Jake on a lot of the same drills and so, happened to be on the ground at the same time as him.

Nora isn't avoiding Jake. Per se.

Avoiding him would be unprofessional and also, kind of impossible and not really fair to him. He hasn't done anything. It's her. She has just been a little more... scarce than usual.

Bradley is more collateral damage than anything else.

He looks over before Nora has a chance to compose her face. "Why do you look like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like..." Bradley searches for the right phrase. He seeks wisdom in another sip of beer. "...you're my bunkmate on the carrier about to ask if I can find another place to crash for the night so I can get laid.”

She stares at him blankly. "I'm confused. Are you getting laid? Or am I?"

"Don't change the subject, Rogers."

"Me?" Nora exclaims. "You're the one with the confusing analogy."

"Just..." He waves his beer around. "Tell me."

Sighing, Nora sneaks a subtle – or rather, hopefully subtle – glance at Jake.

Shirtless, Jake is gleaming in the golden glow of the sun, glistening with an attractive sheen of sweat, all muscles and sun-kissed skin, rolling and flexing and all of those delicious words. He is wearing a backwards baseball cap, damp strands of golden hair swept across his forehead and underneath, making him look ruffled and boyish and so goddamn handsome.

And Jake's arms. His massive arms.

One of those arms wipes across his glistening forehead as Jake spikes the ball and sends Reuben and Mickey diving into the sand on the other side of the net. His cocky grin is blinding.

And even from here, Nora feels her pulse quicken. She feels like a dropped can of soda, one hard shake from bursting open.

She needs to get a grip and soon.

"You don't want to know," Nora promises.

"Tell me," Bradley nudges. "How bad can it really be?"

Well. She did warn him.

"I had a sex dream about Jake."

He chokes. A stream of beer dribbles down his chin and splashes across his bare chest, running down his abdomen in rivulets. Nora holds back a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Why would you tell me that?" Bradley looks pained, asking the question like, What did I ever do to you? Like, Why do you hate me so much?

"You asked," Nora replies calmly.

Mopping the beer from his chest with a balled-up shirt, Bradley looks pained. He coughs into his elbow. "I did not ask about – "

"Besides," Nora continues, ignoring him. "I needed to tell someone, and I couldn't scar Natasha like this so early in our friendship. I need advice."

"What... exactly is the problem?" Bradley asks, slow and reluctant, with a comical lack of enthusiasm; like she's forced the question out of him at gunpoint.

"Well, I guess I like him." Nora draws her knees in and brushing sand from her skin, warm from the sun, rests her arms on them. "Which is probably a bad idea, I know."

"Probably," Bradley echoes. He bobs his head from side to side, weighing his words, considering. "But really, what's a good idea?"

Surprise makes Nora look at him, sharp and sudden. "What does that mean?"

His shoulder drops into a shrug. "I guess, I mean Hangman is a good enough guy. You could do worse."

Brows raised, Nora asks, "Really? When exactly did you guys kiss and make up?"

Bradley wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Is that what gets you hot these days?"

He laughs when Nora digs her elbow into his side. She snorts despite herself. "You're such an ass. But really, aren't you going to try to talk me out of it? I expected you to be against the idea."

His laughter cools into something more thoughtful, more contemplative as Bradley asks, "Did you know my mom took six months to agree to go out with my dad?”

She shakes her head.

A kind of sad smile pulls at his mouth. A ghost of a smile. "Yeah. She wanted him to prove himself or something. She wanted someone who'd be serious about her. He obviously did, or I wouldn't be here."

A pause, and Nora patiently waits for him to continue.

"My birthday always brings up a lot of memories. I'm 36 now. Another year older than my dad ever got to be, which never gets any less weird. I never asked, but if she’d known how it would end, I bet she would’ve done some things differently. I know she would’ve done anything for six more months with him.”

Bradley says, "You like him. He likes you. And you've got what? Four more weeks here?"

A cool dread pools in the bottom of her stomach at the reminder, and Nora nods with a wan smile. Her opposite fist clenches and unclenches where Bradley can't see.

"Exactly. You're not gonna be here forever. Why not see what happens?"

Her knees drop open as Nora crosses her legs. She brushes sand from her ankles, runs her thumb over the delicate bone there, a soothing back and forth motion, meditative. Contemplating.

"He'd just be so..."

Ahead, as Javy prepares to serve, abdomen rippling as the Naval aviator raises his arm high, Jake cups his large hands around his mouth and heckles Reuben and Mickey. They give him the bird in unison, and even Gracie narrows her eyes.

Jake grins widely. So damn pleased with himself.

She drops her gaze before Jake can catch her watching him.

"So smug," Nora finishes. "He'd be so goddamn smug."

Bradley laughs. "Can't argue with you there."

He winds an arm around her shoulders, sympathetic and sweaty, and Nora leans her head on his shoulder. Her own shoulders are warm from sunshine. Her cheeks are pink.

She's probably overdue for a dip in the ocean.

"Do you know where you're going after this? At the end of this project, I mean?" Bradley asks quietly, and when Nora doesn't respond right away, looks at her sidelong. His brown eyes are warm in the afternoon sun, honeyed with flecks of amber. "Or should I not ask?"

Her answering sigh is almost lost amongst the sounds of the ocean waves, gently crashing against the shore, almost but not quite. "Please don't ask."

He acknowledges her words with a hum. "Gotcha."

Soon, Bradley finishes his beer and rejoins Natasha and Bob for the next game, huddling up, and Nora can feel Jake's eyes on her like she can feel the sun on her shoulders, like a burst of warmth.

She gives up any hope of reading her book and lays down. Closes her eyes. Basks in the warmth of the afternoon; in the sounds of gulls overhead and shouts of laughter; in the rush of salt air over her skin, on her tongue.

Everything else washes away, caught in the rising tide and carried out to sea. At least, for now.

A few hours later, after Nora has gone home and rinsed the sweat and sand from her skin and dressed again, she catches a ride with Natasha and Bob to the Hard Deck to meet the rest of the Naval aviators.

Penny is hosting something of a private Fourth of July barbecue – but with more alcohol and aside from a party-sized bag of Lay's chips Nora saw on the bar, no barbecue – in the early evening before San Diego's annual firework show, which kicks off around dusk.

The Hard Deck bar is a sea of khaki uniforms and crisp denim and shades of red, white, and blue, and Penny clearly decorated for the occasion.

A paper banner of red, white, and blue stars hangs across the large windows in the back, rustling like autumn leaves in the slight breeze from the side door. And cross-legged on a barstool by the windows, a cute but highly impractical pair of pale blue suede cowboy boots on her dangling legs, Nora leans an elbow on her knee, watching Jake and Natasha's nine ball game.

Dressed in a linen button-down, which pulls deliciously over his back muscles, Jake knocks a hard-to-reach ball into a pocket with a devil-may-care smirk. Natasha visibly winces.

"Think I want a rematch, Bagman," Natasha announces with a resigned swig of beer.

"Oh, Bagman again, is it?" Jake lets out a low and mocking whistle. "Haven't heard that one in a while. You must really be pissed, huh, Phoenix?"

Brows raised, Jake flawlessly executes a series of complicated shots while holding her dark gaze, which grows progressively steelier with every click and clack.

"Nora," Natasha says in a scary calm voice. "You can probably reach him best over there. Would you mind strangling Bagman for me?"

"Happily," Nora quips.

Jake makes a whole show of clutching his chest and pretending to be deeply offended, which lasts for all of 20 seconds. "No one likes a sore loser, Trace."

And Bob – who until now has been quietly observing from a barstool on Natasha's end – carefully sweeps cracked peanut shells and popcorn residue from his lap and chimes in with some much-needed optimism.

"You can still win. You still have..."

He launches a long-winded and strategic breakdown of all the different strategies and angles Natasha has left in her arsenal, counting them off. As if Natasha is competing in some Las Vegas championship, not playing a few amicable – well, maybe semi-amicable – rounds in a dive bar.

And while Nora is a very casual enjoyer of pool and doesn't understand half of what Bob is saying, she does understand that Jake is beating Natasha. Badly. Obnoxiously so.

An argument will definitely break out if Jake wipes the floor with Natasha. Nora can feel it in the air, like a crackle of electricity, an indigo downdraft before a summer storm.

So as Jake grows closer, setting up for the coupe de grâce, Nora catches the crisp sleeve of his linen button-down, fabric pulling tight across his muscular bicep.

He pauses. Turns.

Forehead wrinkling, Jake looks down at Nora, expectant.

He smells... so damn good. Focus.

"Don't be an asshole," Nora says coolly.

"You'll have to be more specific, I'm afraid."

She gives him a withering look, and god, Jake definitely wants to laugh. She can see it in his eyes, bright and gleaming and green and so close.

"About the game," Nora clarifies dryly. "Don't be an asshole about the game."

His gaze drops down to where Nora is still holding his sleeve. She releases it as if burned.

Amusement creases the corners of his eyes, and Jake drawls, "No promises, sweetheart," and pulls away.

Even so, Jake's next move – one that could've easily been a game ender – is a little less precise, a little less powerful than his previous one. It’s not enough to sink the nine ball.

And Natasha lives to see another turn.

A Tears for Fears song comes on as Natasha openly celebrates, drawing her fist down, victorious. Bob and Mickey cheer and clap from the sidelines. Her own personal cheerleaders.

Nora's lips curl upwards.

Three Naval aviators are notably absent from the group at the back of the Hard Deck right now. Reuben is with Gracie, who wanted to get a good spot for the fireworks on Harbor Island, and Bradley had gone straight from the beach to Captain Mitchell's and is now late.

(Bradley sent her a message peppered with various emojis and general incoherence but ending in L8, which was easy enough to understand.)

Javy is around here... somewhere. He vanished into the crowd like 20 minutes ago for a refill and some snacks and never came back. He's probably catching up with some of the Naval officers who had waved at him as Javy came in.

She knows Javy would've clapped for Jake, had Javy been here.

So Nora claps for him, a light clap, catching Jake's attention with the motion, not the sound. She's rewarded with a broad grin as Jake leans on the cue.

He retrieves his half-full glass from the counter underneath the windows and tips the amber liquid in her direction. A gunslinger in an old Western, tipping his cowboy hat at the nearest woman in the saloon.

She raises her own glass in return, and Jake grins, wide and slow and sensual and damn. He looks her up and down, gaze lingering on her cowboy boots, not saying a damn word, not needing to say a damn word.

A warm feeling rises in her chest like Nora's overindulged in champagne. Goddamn.

Jake still wins in the end, but not by as much as he could've.

As Natasha racks the pool balls, resetting the table for the next game, Nora drains the rest of her Old Fashioned, which was mostly ice now anyway, and carries her empty glass over to the bar.

Penny is busy performing her duties as hostess – meeting and greeting and mingling. She'd made her way over and said hello soon after Nora arrived – so a bartender Nora doesn't recognize is behind the bar right now.

She sets her glass down and pulls out her phone for a distraction while Nora is waiting. She opens Instagram and after scrolling, sees Natasha posted a couple of pictures from Moonlight Rollers on Sunday morning.

In one of the photos, Nora is leaning on Natasha's shoulder, lids lowered and sparkly, grin wide and drunken. Another is a group picture where Bradley has a big arm around both Natasha and Nora's shoulders, standing on either side of him, trying not to fall on his ass again.

A smile lights up her face as Nora likes the post and shares it on her Instagram story. Adding a disco ball and some confetti in the corner.

It's been a while since Nora's posted on Instagram. How long has it been? Since France, maybe?

She clicks on her profile and –

"Hi. You're Nora, right?"

He's definitely around her age. Cute enough with sand-colored hair that curls around his ears and dimples. Blue eyes. He looks like a classic California surfer.

He looks vaguely familiar, but Nora can't remember his name.

"Depends," Nora says coyly. She slides her phone into her back pocket and crosses her arms. "Should I be worried?"

He's confident enough to laugh. A slightly apologetic sound.

"Not at all. I probably should've led with..." He sticks out a hand, smiling. "I'm Aidan. I'm an AM on the Naval base – an Aviation Structural Mechanic. I've seen you around."

Ah. She can place him now.

Aidan had supervised one of the camera installations last week. She'd exchanged all of five words with him. He looks different, not dressed in coveralls.

He's not the only one. She probably looks different too.

She's braided her pale hair down her back, and a vintage Born in the USA Word Tour shirt slopes over her shoulders, cropped and loose, barely grazing the denim waistband of her light wash cut-offs – which are a smidge shorter than she remembered.

"Have you?" Nora asks. "I must be pretty memorable."

Aidan flushes, and Nora bites back a smirk.

"You're, uh... We don't have a lot of civilian contractors on the base right now. It'd be kind of hard not to remember you, I think."

Her mouth opens in a smile. "I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

"You should," Aidan promises in a rush of breath. His blue eyes zero in on her empty glass. "What're you drinking? Maybe I could – "

"Making friends, Hollywood?"

Of course. Nora kind of wants to laugh.

She actually does laugh when 'Born to Run' by Bruce Springsteen comes on over the speakers, covering her mouth, and Jake bites back a smile, eyes sparkling, looking so damn pleased with himself.

Nora looks at him over her shoulder from under her dark lashes, blue eyes crinkling. "Wrong album, Texas."

He only grins.

Heart racing, Nora looks away. "You know Jake, right, Aidan?"

Nodding, Aidan grunts, "Hangman" with a neutral expression so practiced Nora knows all of the AMs must hate Jake. How many F-18 repairs have probably needed to be done in the months the Daggers have been stationed here?

"Howdy."

Jesus Christ. Nora rolls her eyes.

Jake regards the AM with a glued-on insufferable asshole smile until Aidan inhales – one of those sharp well, I better go inhales – and sure enough: "Well, I should get going."

"Oh, so soon?"

Nora kicks Jake in the ankle. His grin only widens.

Aidan looks between them with an unreadable expression and says, "Maybe I'll see you around, Nora. Happy Fourth," with a forced smile and leaves.

After, Nora bites down on the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh.

"You're so irritating," Nora says.

"Am I?" Jake counters. "Why're you smiling then?"

She doesn't answer.

Grinning, Jake spots the bartender and flags him down with a quick and efficient, "I'll get another beer and another Old Fashioned for the lady here. Thanks, man."

"Presumptuous. And what if I wanted something else?"

His brows rise. "Did you?"

No but...

She could have.

“We’ll never know now,” Nora replies, stubborn, chin raised.

Jake reaches over and gives the end of her braid a gentle and light-hearted tug. So playful and casual. She gapes at him, and Jake grins down at her, shaking with suppressed laughter, eyes alight.

Her stomach does a somersault and then some. A full Olympic routine.

"Excuse me? Are you 12?"

But Nora is laughing.

Jake slides into the empty space beside her. Close enough for Nora to feel the warmth of him.

"What were you and AM Aidan chatting about over here? You know Phoenix made him cry once?" Jake asks. He sounds unbearably amused.

"Literally nothing. He was definitely about to ask me out though," Nora replies.

"Poor guy," Jake croons. His smirk is smug as all hell. "You'd eat him alive. Guy like that wouldn't even know what to do with you."

His words are drenched in implication, like Jake would know.

And against her will, Nora flushes.

He notices, of course, because Jake notices everything.

Luckily, the Hard Deck bartender chooses that exact moment to come back with their drinks. He sets them down. A beer for Jake. An Old Fashioned for Nora.

"Tab?"

"Seresin."

Nora opens her mouth, and Jake pulls on her braid again. She smacks his hand away.

"Don't be so stubborn, Hollywood. Let me buy you a drink."

She eyes him. "And what's the catch?"

A dimple carves into his cheek. "Maybe I'm just a nice guy."

"You are not a nice guy," and Nora doesn't mean for it to come out like it does, like it's a good thing, like she likes that about him.

His gaze is burning, and Jake is closer than ever before – shoe nudging between her boots, knee brushing against the inside of her exposed thigh – and Nora feels like a struck match held over a puddle of gasoline, like one wrong move, one right one will set her ablaze.

"Oh yeah?" Jake murmurs. “What am I then?”

Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, and Jake follows the movement, gaze darkening. His fingers spasm around the neck of the beer bottle, and Nora remembers another moment, a moment in this very bar when Jake's fingers brushed the side of her neck, warm and calloused and deliberate.

A call vibrates her phone in her back pocket.

Her caught breath escapes in a rush. She doesn't even look at the ID before Nora answers.

"This is Nora Rogers."

Jake eases back, lids low, and Nora swallows against her suddenly dry mouth. Plugs her ear to better hear the person on the other end.

It's so loud in here, but Nora manages to make out a few words.

"Nora, it's Jenna."

A breath punches from her chest, and Nora freezes.

In her peripheral, Jake frowns around his beer.

"I know, I know," Jenna is saying, oblivious, even as Nora feels like a hand has clawed between her ribs and slowly squeezed. "Who calls out of the blue anymore, right? But I saw your Instagram story, and I was like, I should give Nora a call while I have a minute... Are you there? It's kind of loud. Can you hear me? Nora?"

"Oh, um..."

Nora looks up at Jake, eyes wide. He doesn't hesitate, good in a crisis like any good Naval aviator would be. He sets his drink down and pulls the phone from her unresisting fingers.

"Nora's a little busy right now. She'll have to call you back later. You have a good Fourth, ma'am."

And Jake ends the call before Nora can even breathe.

She stares at him, unblinking.

"Nora?"

Not sweetheart, not Hollywood. Nora.

She snaps out of her daze and manages, "I need some air."

And Nora lets Jake pull her though the crowd and out of the side door, into the cooling summer air.

Evening sun cools on the blue horizon of the ocean as Nora is sitting in the bed of Jake's Chevy, legs dangling and swinging restlessly over the edge, hard metal pressing into her skin.

She doesn't mind. It's kind of grounding, actually.

She breathes in the salt air. Breathes deep and out.

"What's going on?"

Ah, damn.

"Ah..." Nora blinks her eyes open and discretely wipes at the moisture under her lids. "I'm fine. Just needed a minute."

She wonders if Jake can hear the strain in her voice, the strange reediness. She can hear it. Can see right through her own words. She wonders if Jake can do the same, can see right through her like Nora is made of the sea glass that dots the shore.

Metal creaks as Jake hoists himself up and squeezes in next to Nora. He is so damn broad, pressed against her entire side. His bare arm is warm against hers.

He gets comfortable, stretching out his legs.

Leans a hand behind her back.

His arm brushes against her side again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jake asks, voice a gentle rumble.

She blows out an uneven breath. "About what?"

"You looked a little upset inside, is all."

"I'm not upset," Nora says. A reflex. A lie.

"Come on..." Jake coaxes with a small smile. "You're a bad liar, sweetheart. What's going on? Tell Uncle Jake."

She's surprised enough to laugh, a choked and breathless sound. "Uncle Jake? What is that, like a sex thing?"

"You're so..." He chuckles, low and warm. "No, Nora. It's not a sex thing. Ma called me earlier. Apparently, my niece caught War of the Worlds on cable the other night, even though I know Sarah would never let her watch a PG-13 movie. She's seven."

"So now," Jake continues. "She's scared of fireworks. She's convinced some Independence Day aliens are gonna burst right out of ‘em.”

Nora cracks a small smile. "And did Uncle Jake talk some sense into her?"

"Damn straight," Jake affirms with an oh-so-serious nod. "Told her I would've seen any aliens from my plane and shot ‘em right out of the sky.”

He kind of rolls his eyes, like Can you believe what I put up with?, but Nora can hear the unbridled affection in his voice. He loves it. He loves being this person who can calm a scared little girl down and make it all better.

And Nora's delicate heart cracks wide open.

His shoulder bumps against hers, gentle. "Got any aliens I can shoot out of the sky for you, sweetheart?”

She sighs. "I'm not upset, exactly. I'm... frustrated with myself."

His brows furrow in question, and rather than explain, Nora offers her phone and lets him read the incoming messages for himself. It’s easier.

Jenna, 6:58 PM: Hi! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to catch you in the middle of something.

Jenna, 7:01 PM: Are you still considering that project I talked to you about in May? Take a beat, I don’t need an answer right this second, but I do need an answer kind of soon.

Jenna, 7:01 PM: I’m resending the pitch now. Check your email!

Jenna, 7:02 PM: (And maybe write me back for once)

Another message comes in as Jake is reading.

Jenna, 7:05 PM: Also, WHO was that guy on the phone? He has a sexy voice.

Nora snatches her phone back and locks the screen, holding her arms close.

A smirk wavers on his face, flickering on and off like an old light bulb, but Jake doesn't make a comment. His mouth settles in a line as he studies Nora.

“What’s wrong with the project? Why don’t you want it?”

She blinks at him, surprised, and Jake shrugs.

“You would’ve given her an answer before now otherwise, right?”

And damn if Jake doesn’t hit the nail right on the head.

“You’re right. I don't want it," Nora says. An admission. "But I know I should. So... I'm aggravated with myself."

"Why?"

She pulls her legs up and crosses them, fiddling with a loose thread in the denim. She explains in a hush, "Because now, I only have a month left here, and I'm in the same place I was before I came here. I don't have another project lined up at the end of this one, and I haven't even been looking, really."

He is looking at her with soft attention. A breath.

Nora continues, "I really used to love what I do, but I don't know, I've been so drained and uninspired and god, just so fucking exhausted for the past year and a half." She smooths her hands over her cheeks, still flushed from the humid bar. "I thought if I had a change of pace, maybe I could recharge and feel creative again so..."

"You came here," Jake finishes, understanding.

"So I came here," Nora repeats in a soft voice.

She came here, and now, Nora is stuck. Again.

"Documentaries have been a part of my whole... identity for so long that I don't know if I could do something else. I feel like I'd lose a part of myself if I ever stopped. And I've been this person for so long that I don't know if I could do something else. I don't know if I'd even know how."

A car pulls into the beachside lot and parks a few rows over and idles there, and over the sound of the engine and the crash of the ocean waves, Nora can make out the chorus of ‘Fade Into You’ by Mazzy Star. Her mom’s favorite song.

It feels like a sign.

And Nora says, “I guess I don’t want to look back a decade from now and be in the same place I am right now.”

“Which is?”

“Wondering if I’ve made the wrong choice.” Nora watches the horizon. A sigh escapes from her lips. “Wondering if I’m too late to make the right one.”

“Look at me,” Jake says, soft and gentle but firm. "Hey."

Nora leans her chin on her shoulder and meets his gaze, and Jake is looking at her with such intense green, open-faced and sincere.

"You could march into Cyclone's office on Monday morning and quit right then and there and – "

"Actually, Admiral Simpson's not my – ”

"You could..." Jake raises his voice to drown out her interruption until Nora presses her lips together. "...quit and never make another documentary ever again and still be an incredible person. I mean, hell, Hollywood, you're beautiful and clever as hell and at times, kind of mean."

A smirk brims on her lips, and Jake grins, a flash of white.

“You could be anything.”

She stares at him. “How could you possibly know that? You’ve only known me for like a month.”

“I know enough.”

He sounds so sure, so certain.

And Nora likes him. She likes him so much her chest aches. She holds a hand over her collarbone, rubbing at the sore spot over her heart, pulse racing underneath her palm.

"Thank you, Jake," Nora says softly.

His eyes are soft. "Of course, anytime."

A beat passes, and Nora could so easily let the moment fade.

She could go back inside and spend the rest of the weekend pushing him from her mind and wanting him.

Jake is so handsome in the golden glow. He's looking at her like...

No one's ever looked at her like Jake is looking at her right now.

She swallows hard and says, "You were right before."

His mouth quirks. "I usually am, but about what?"

A few strands of short hair come loose from her braid and fall in her face as Nora shakes her head.

“I do kind of like you,” Nora admits. “I kind of like you a lot.”

His lips part in a smile. “You like me.”

She bites down on the inside of her cheek. Hard. “Go ahead. Get it over with."

“And what exactly am I getting over with?"

“You really aren't going to be smug about this? You were right. Get it over with."

Nora waits. Drums her fingers on the surface of her thigh while Jake is quiet, suspiciously so.

“What? Nothing?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find a way to be smug later," Jake promises with a slow smirk. Later oozes with suggestion. Sparks dance across her skin where Jake's arm is pressed against hers.

“You like me,” Jake repeats again, voice soft.

Her chin dips in a nod.

“And what are we gonna do about that, sweetheart?”

It’s all Nora can do not to squirm under his gaze.

She replies, “Nothing. Just wanted you to know,” in a voice so paper thin, so breathless that even Nora doesn’t believe herself.

You’re a bad liar, sweetheart, echoes in her head.

And like he knows, a smirk kicks up the edge of Jake's mouth.

In a movie, this would be a moment, the moment.

A director would ask the camera to get in close and closer still, documenting every microcosm of their expressions, every glimpse of emotion in their eyes, and in the background, a delicate instrumental would build and build, a gradual swell, like an ocean wave.

Grow louder and stronger until in a dark theater, surrounded by strangers and popcorn grease, or at home on the couch, whoever is watching catches themselves holding their breath, until the world drops out from under them, until…

He leans in close, locked and loaded with a clever countermove.

“Bull…”

And unable to let him have the last word, even in this, especially in this, Nora closes the distance between them and kisses him.

And kisses him and kisses him, hand dipping in the open space where his linen shirt gapes from his collarbone and running her fingers over the golden skin, warm from the sun, over that damn chain.

Hooking it around her index finger, Nora gives it an experimental pull, the smallest and slightest of tugs, and Jake reacts like Nora has reached inside his chest and pressed an on switch.

A warm palm slides up the slender length of her neck, settling on her nape, and anchors her against him. He breathes her name against her mouth, like a prayer, like a confession.

Nora Nora Nora.

Pulls her in and in and in until Nora is all but on top of him, impossibly close.

She wants nothing more than to crawl over him and –

A car alarm wails from behind them.

She pulls back, breathing hard, and like a magnet, Jake follows.

He rests his forehead against her bare shoulder, catching his breath, pressing a kiss to the new freckles from the afternoon and another.

“Um…” Nora starts.

He kisses the side of her neck once, and Nora cuts herself off with a rush of breath, gripping his biceps for balance.

“We’re…” Nora tries again. “We should…”

He pauses. Pulls back so Nora can see his face.

His pupils are blown wide.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Nora asks, both a question and a plea. Please want to get out of here.

“Yes,” Jake breathes and kisses her again, his answer a groan against her mouth. "God, yes, Nora."

He doesn't even get his credit card from the bartender.

Less than a minute later, Jake is cutting across Coronado in his Chevy like an F-18, cutting across cooling blue skies.

Between stop signs, Jake reaches across the bench seat and laces their fingers together, pressing a firm kiss to her knuckles.

Her other hand drifts out of the open window, and for a brief moment, as the wind catches her fingers just right, Nora closes her eyes and feels like she's flying.

end note: likes are appreciated, but comments and reblogs are amazing. i'd love to hear from you! and all my love to @sometimesanalice for letting me ramble to you for months about this fic and @roosterbruiser for beta reading!

read the next chapter!

#fic: baby i'm high octane #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x nora rogers #hangman fic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun fic #laracrofted writes

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