#i need to shower today… everything seems impossible as always | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

builtbybrokenbells · 9 months

Text

CAPITAL VICES | PRIDE

Pride: an excessive view of one’s self without regard for others

Masterlist

Listen while reading: Little Wing - Jimi Hendrix, Nobody Home - Pink Floyd

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, morning sex, quickie (ish), fingering (f!receiving), choking, praise, degradation, name calling, sir kink, begging, dom/sub, overstimulation, rough sex, dirty talk, touch of bratty sub, showering together, fluff (lots), angst, arguing, fighting, crying, breakups/mentions of breakups, mentions of death/dying, mentions of loss of a parent, grief, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

I wasn’t going to post this today but I just couldn’t help myself 😁 don’t hate me too much ;) as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

“Wake up, sweetheart.” A soft kiss was placed on your shoulder, the light tickle just the right amount of sweetness to wake you up in a good mood. You had grown accustomed to Jake’s presence in the early mornings; your defence was down, and in some strange way, you’d even grown to love it. You hummed in response, neglecting to open your eyes and see what he wanted from you. You could still feel him wrapped around you, your back pressed tightly against his chest and his touch warming your soul. A light hand was on your hip, his fingers lazily holding you in a show of clear affection. Whatever he wanted was nothing important, and that you were certain of.

“Five more minutes.” You protested, pulling the blanket closer to your chest. He chuckled at your reluctance, continuing to pepper kisses across your shoulder.

“It’s late, angel. You should get up.” He tried again, the little white lie slipping past his lips to encourage you to open your eyes. His hand drifted a little further downwards, his fingertips now grazing your bare thigh.

“I have nothing to do today.” You argued, trying not to give into his gentle touch. The temptation was impossible to resist, but you put up the fight for as long as you could.

“Nothing to do?” He teased. “Not even me?” Even with your eyes closed, you had to fight off the urge to roll them at his shameless flirting.

“You’ll be here all day,” you grumbled, struggling to ignore his hand that was drifting towards your heat. You had only been awake for a moment, but the familiar ache was already growing too strong to ignore. “I’m sure you can wait a little while.”

“Haven’t you learned that lesson already?” Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers slipped between your legs. “I don’t like waiting, angel.” A rush of arousal ran through you at the memory of the night before. Although he gave you what he thought was a punishment, it did not seem to deter you from wanting to deny him again. Whatever he was trying to teach you did not seem to stick. Whether that was due to his poor teaching ability or your undying need for him, you did not know. What you did know was that despite his efforts, he could not seem to fuck the brattiness out of you and his form of punishment was highly enjoyable. You were eager to press the same buttons just to experience sex like that again.

In truth, there were a million lessons he had tried hard to teach you, but you never cared to listen. It had nothing to do with his ability, and everything to do with your own stubbornness.

Perhaps if you listened, you might have avoided the disaster that was looming just overhead.

“Maybe you need to remind me again.” You yawned, and although it was not on purpose, it seemed to fit the narrative perfectly. “Not sure if I remember correctly.”

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t start with me again.” He sighed, his fingers finally reaching your cunt. You took in a sharp breath in reaction to the feeling, still sore and sensitive from the night before. “I thought I fucked that little attitude out of you?” His finger ran through your wetness, trailing it all the way up to your clit where he began tracing slow circles. You shifted, rolling over on your back to allow him easier access to you. His eyes drifted over your face, a small smile stuck on his lips as he admired your beauty in the light of the early morning. “Nothing to say?” He questioned, keeping his movements steady, but light.

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.” You lied through your teeth, knowing that he was right. You had zero arguments, and the only reason you felt the need to talk back was because you wanted him to touch you. Now that you had gotten what you wanted, you felt that you could comfortably remain in silence.

“Right,” he chuckled, unable to find the desire to chastise you.

His eyes were fixated on your face as he drank in every detail you had to offer. The specs of brown that floated amidst the color of your irises, the way your eyelashes drooped down and dusted the dark circles under your eyes every time your eyelids fluttered closed. He stared long enough to notice the speckled freckles that littered the bridge of your nose, barely noticeable from a distance but mesmerizing when he got close enough. He studied the few scars that were painted on your skin, reminding him of a lifetime that he did not know about but so desperately wanted to. They were so light now that they barely even existed anymore, but he was so immersed in the constellations they formed across your face that he was sure he would never miss them again.

He watched as your lips parted as waves of pleasure washed over you, wishing so desperately that you would let a moan slip past your lips just so he could have the chance to hear the melody again. He wanted to kiss you, or to at least speak his adoration into the universe, but he seemed frozen in place. He had locked himself in with lust, stalemating his own feelings and making it so they could never surface. What he felt for you in that moment was a feeling stronger than love; it was adoration, safety, happiness, and a sense of home he hadn’t felt since he was young, nestled in his childhood bedroom after his parents tucked him into bed. He felt all of the things for you that he was certain this lifetime would never grant him, and he had no idea what to do with all of it.

That night at the bar, he found you so compelling that he could not force himself to walk away. Your beauty was blinding, and your charm was irresistible despite your rejection. Had he known at that moment that you would be so important to him, he never would have spoken a casual relationship into fruition. Dating was not his forte, and he never wanted to do it again, yet now that he sat face to face with his love for you, it was the only thing he wanted. He wanted all of the things he previously denounced as long as it was with you, but he was terrified of his own revelations. It made him want to run, to hide and never be seen again just to ensure that his heart would be safe. Then, he looked at you for a second too long and he realized he would run for so long and so far that he would land straight back in your arms. If he left, he would search for you until the day he died, and if he still could not find you, he would spend the next life searching, too.

Through the weeks of hookups and long nights spent sleeping beside you in bed, he’d fallen for you unintentionally and beyond anything he’d ever known. He fell in love with you in the most sincere and honest way, and the intensity in which he felt it nearly gutted him. He loved you without expectation, nor any requirement. He loved you silently, and he loved you loudly. Through smiles and shared touches, through small stories about the young girl that lived through travesty so the young woman he adored could flourish, and through memories made by the cumulative hours spent holding each other and laughing with each other after sex. He loved you through spoken words, shared jokes and playful banter. He loved you enough that it was hard to be away from you, and he loved you enough that his apartment felt like it belonged to you more than it ever belonged to him.

As he watched your face, the man who had seduced you into bed for the first time ceased to exist. He was no longer a devilish being that was driven by concupiscent thoughts; he was a boy who wanted more than just the sex the two of you had based your entire relationship around. For the first time since knowing you, the last thing he wanted to do was fuck you. He wanted to hold you until the morning bled into the afternoon, cocooned in blankets and suffocating in the sweetness of your laughter. He wanted to ignore every single growl of hunger, and every scorching sensation of thirst. He didn’t need anything other than you in his arms, and he didn’t want anything more than the simplicity of loving you.

The devil had finally met his maker, and it was far more sinister than anything he ever imagined before. You were everything all at once, the very thing that breathed life into his soul, and the only thing that could take it away. If he had half a brain, he would have already ran out the door, but he could not fathom leaving your side. His fear made him withdraw, and his love made him stay. He was being ripped apart by his own moral struggle, but he felt so much love for you that it completely overshadowed the pain that came along with it.

Instead of facing his conflict, he slipped his thumb to your clit as his fingers rested on your entrance. Before he could debate the consequences, he began pumping his fingers into you as he moved his thumb in time. With his eyes still fixated on your face, he tried to harness the same energy as the first night he met you. The filthy desire for you, rather than the love that ran so deep it made his veins dry of blood.

“That feels so good, baby.” You whimpered, your eyes fluttering open to catch sight of his own. Had you not been so lost in bliss, you might have noticed the pain that was shining through the cloud of desire. He could not respond, fearful that a confession might slip out instead of an encouragement. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your own. It silenced you from spewing any more beautifully venomous words that would in turn convince him to tell you all his heart felt for you.

As he kissed you, it did nothing but worsen the ache in his chest. His hand continued working at you, begging for an orgasm to hopefully lessen the discomfort of love and heighten the lust that so often burned in his chest. He was desperate for you to orgasm, but it was for a reason much different than all of the times before. It had absolutely nothing to do with remembering, and instead, everything to do with forgetting. He watched your expression twist into one of pleasure, and he hurt at the thought of you being so oblivious to the things that he was feeling for you. He wondered, just for a moment, if you had ever felt that way about him in the time you had spent together. He could not focus on the thought, because it pained him to know that you did not.

“Fuck, Jake.” You gasped, feeling the pit of your stomach ignite with a fire he so often caused.

“Yeah? Does that feel good, angel?” He crooned, his eyes heavy and a lazy smile plastered on his lips. He did a great job at covering up the damage he had done to himself. “Do you want to cum for me?”

“Yes, please.” You groaned, your hand clasping around his bicep in hopes of keeping him there forever. You had a slight mistrust for him since he denied you of the pleasure so many times the night prior. Little did you know, denying you anything was nearly impossible for him, especially in that moment when sleep was still threatening your eyes and your need for him was primal.

“You sound so pretty when you beg for me.” He muttered, imagining the sight of his hand driving you to insanity underneath the blanket. He took in a long breath as his eyes fluttered closed, listening intently to the noises falling so delicately from your lips. “Cum for me, sweet girl.” The silky smooth tone of his voice was all it took to push you over the edge. You clenched around his hand, uttering ugly curses painted with the beauty of his name. The vulgarity of the scene would turn any man to his knees before god, yet somehow it was so ethereal when the obscenities were doused in his name, like holy water working to rid you of the sin. “That’s it, angel.” He coaxed you through it, gentle and sweet as if he wasn’t opening the gates to hell and pushing you inside.

As you rode out the euphoria, your eyes settled on his face in a similar manner as he had been watching you. You thought your heart might stop and you would ascent to the heavens from the picture of his beauty alone. He was looking down at you, his warm brown eyes casted down upon the bridge of his nose to soak in every inch of your expression of pleasure. They were warm, inviting you in and promising to keep you safe. The permanent upturn of his lip made your chest ache and your eyes cross with stars. The smirk, although infuriating at first, had quickly turned itself into something you could not live without. The soft locks of brown hair hung down to frame his rosy cheeks, flushed at the sight of you in such a state. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, barely enough to notice, but too much for you to bear. His dark eyelashes casted a shadow over his stare, but it did not offset the intensity of his eyes burning into you. The blemishes and scars left behind on his skin were in tune with your own, allowing you to realize that the man you’d made out to be a godless entity was nothing but a boy who was mindlessly trying to make it through life alive, strikingly similar to yourself.

When you breathed out the last of the pleasure from your orgasm, you expected the fleeting moment of adoration to fade away with it. When your chest was steady, back to its normal rhythm, it did not seem to disappear. The cloud of sexual tension dissipated, and so did the sensation in the pit of your stomach and between your legs, but the swell of your heart did not seem to want to follow. He gave you a few slow blinks, the smirk turning into a smile as he recognized the far away look in your eyes. It was the same one he had been watching you with, but he would never speak a word to you about it. The confirmation in your expression was enough for him to move on from it without speaking it into existence.

You bit down on the inside of your lip ever so gently, holding back the words that were begging to be spoken. He didn’t interrupt your moment of clarity, but he did admire you while the reality washed over you. He withdrew his hand from you, but you were too enthralled in the details of his face to notice, the ones that only you had access to. You loved him in every way you knew to be possible, but it felt like you were choking on the confession. Slowly, the words would suffocate you and you would never get the opportunity to speak the truth.

“You’re beautiful, Jake.” You choked out, managing the compliment if nothing else.

“As are you, sweetheart.” He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You were struggling to find another word to speak, but your train of thought was cut off by the ring of the doorbell. You snapped out of the trance in a panic, wondering who would be knocking at your door so early in the morning. Before you could scramble out of bed to investigate, he laid a gentle hand on your stomach as if to tell you it was okay.

“Almost forgot why I woke you up.” He chuckled, sending a soft, reassuring smile your way. You raised an eyebrow as he stood, adjusting himself in his pants before he retreated to answer the door. “I ordered food, and I didn’t want it to get cold before you got the chance to eat.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your head still swimming with confliction about the feelings arising in your chest. “Thank you.” He watched you for a moment, his head cocking to the side in confusion at your lack of argument. When you didn’t follow your statement up with any kind of rejections or insults, he gave a slow nod before walking out of the room.

You collapsed against the pillows as soon as he was out of sight, heaving a heavy sigh of relief. You were so disoriented that you almost considered asking him to go home so you could sort through your thoughts, but the idea of him leaving struck a painful nerve in your heart. You had no idea why you were so infatuated with him, or why the sight of his face brought you to such weakness. He was the same Jake that had laid in your bed dozens of times before, and it was the same hand between your leg giving you the same, earth-shattering orgasm. Although those were all good things, they weren’t any different than the days that came and passed before. What changed, you did not know.

Denial is a disease, and you were plagued with it.

You were so deep in your pondering about the strange feelings sparking in your chest that you failed to realize Jake was bringing you not only breakfast, but was intending to bring you breakfast in bed. It was the furthest thing from your agreed upon rule, but it was so minuscule to you now that you barely even thought twice about it. Breakfast was the least incriminating thing the two of you had done together in regards to romance, and you knew that, even if you didn’t want to face the truth.

So, instead of either of you digesting the feelings and speaking up about them, you compartmentalized them and simply pretended they did not exist.

Sloth still had its deadly hold on your hearts, and it was slowly beginning to take a control of your lives.

Before Jake returned, you stood and made your way to the kitchen in attempt to mitigate the effects of breakfast in bed. You were still dazed and completely lost in your thoughts when you took post by the kitchen island. When he returned and noticed you were not in the same spot he left you, he stood beside you without a word, a takeout bag in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other. When he sat the items on the counter, relief flooded you instead of fear. You were not relieved to be sharing such an intimate meal, but because you would have something to occupy yourself with while you tried to swallow down your confessions of love.

Then, when your hand grabbed the bag, you could not seem to bring it any closer to you. Your body was rejecting the thought of food, and the smell was nearly sickening. You were so distraught from your revelations that you couldn’t even stomach the idea of eating. Jake mindlessly sipped away at the cardboard cup in his hand, barely noticing your stunned gaze. He’d already gotten over the painstaking realizations and had pushed them so deep down inside of him that they barely existed at all.

“Not hungry, angel?” He asked, his hand finding your hip as he moved behind you. Your eyes closed at the contact, the relief instantaneous and the comfort immeasurable.

“No, guess not.” You muttered, trying your best to focus on the feeling of his touch rather than the emotion running rampant in your chest.

“Interested in something else, by any chance?” You could feel his erection pressing into your ass. Pleasing you had worked him up to the point of no return, and now eating breakfast was the last thing on his mind.

“Is sex all you think about?” You chuckled, feeling the unease begin to fade. Everything was easy to forget about when his hands were on you, holding you so close.

“You make it hard to think about anything else.” He admitted, slipping his hands underneath his t-shirt that was resting on your thighs. You couldn’t deny the feeling that blossomed in your stomach, and you had to agree that when the two of you were together, sex had always been the most pressing thought.

“Don’t put the blame on me for your filthy imagination, Jacob.” You smirked, finding a shred of your normal personality making a return.

“Wasn’t blaming you, angel. Simply just stating a fact.” He pushed the shirt to your hips, a low growl sounding from his chest at the sight of your exposed lower half. “You know I always have to finish what I've started.”

“Make it quick, honey. I’d hate for you to waste another coffee on my behalf.” You breathed, trying your best to make it seem as if the position was not affecting you. In truth, your legs were quivering at the thought of him being inside you again, and your stomach was already tied in knots, ready to snap from the tension.

“Haven’t I told you already?” He freed himself from his sweatpants, forgoing any formalities or foreplay. Getting you off had already pushed him to the point of insanity, and he feared that if he had to wait a second longer he might die from the disease of needing you. He rested the tip of his cock on your entrance, pausing there only for a moment so he could speak again. “This is worth more than anything else in the world.” His words were firm, forcing you to believe it to be truth even if you wanted to refute it. He avoided what he really wanted to confess, knowing that if his emotions were coated in a protective shield of lust, it was less likely to scare you away. He so badly wanted to tell you that it was not the sex that was worth the world in gold, it was you.

He hated the fire burning in his chest, not because of the intensity, but because he knew that you were the one who so often ignited it. He promised that love would not complicate your relationship, but love had been tangling itself in your souls since the first time your eyes locked together. It was there before the first word was spoken, and long before the first touch. It was there in the beginning, before he ever stepped foot in the bar. It guided him to you, speaking soft whispers through the moonlight in hopes of landing him directly by your side.

Of course, fate was such a twisted little thing; to make two people who denounced the callings of their own heart fall irrevocably in love was a sinister act, but it was undeniably true. The two of you were meant to find each other, to experience such serenity at the hands of another and to find love that did not make you want to seek shelter from the explosion. You were meant to learn love in its true form, not the kind where raised voices and fists chilled the warmth it created, and not one in which infidelity and mistrust blackened its golden glow. Most of all, you were meant to give it to each other as much as you were meant to learn it. Sloth had affected you so badly because you were so good at caring for each other in a way nobody else had, and it was a heinous crime to withhold that kind of care from each other.

This love did not leave a bitter taste in his mouth, nor did it leave one in yours, but it did strike so much fear within you that it was nearly paralyzing. You knew you felt strongly about him, and you knew why you felt that way, but it did not make the fact easily digestible. You hadn’t felt a feeling so strong since before the tragic end of your last marriage, and you had been perfectly content with never feeling it again. It was not warm and fuzzy like it was to so many others; to you, it was violent and painful, and it made you ache all over when you thought about how much he meant to you. You were terrified of letting him in, but you were even more fearful of losing him. Above all, you were so scarred from the past that you feared that once your guard was down, the Jake you knew would morph into a monster that would hurt you far beyond what anyone else had done.

You knew you should not blame him for the mistakes others had made, but what you had experienced at the hands of love made the whole idea turn sour in your mind. You knew it was implausible, but if you could, you would have lived the rest of your life alone and never let anyone get too close.

When he pushed inside of you, the turmoil living inside both of your hearts immediately settled. Nothing ever seemed to matter when he was so close to you, and perhaps that was the most dangerous of all.

“God, you feel so fucking good angel.” He groaned, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t let any more sweetness slip out. “What do you do to me?” He muttered, looking down at his hips as they fucked into you. His eyes focused intently as he slowed his movements slightly, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, instead. He was so infatuated with you that the sight of him fucking you had quickly turned into his favourite sight to see.

“Harder, Jake.” You pleaded, gripping on to the countertop as you prepared for more. The feeling was already overwhelming, your last orgasm still lingering on your skin. The newly discovered feelings did nothing to aid your ability to withhold a climax, and if anything, feeling such things with him inside of you was only worsening the love blossoming in the deepest depths of your heart.

“You want more, angel?” He smirked, doing exactly what you wanted. A yelp sounded as he slammed against your cervix, your knees buckling under the weight of your body as you struggled to keep yourself upright. “Tell me how good I make you feel.” He ordered. His words were heavy, and the intent had nothing to do with the power trip he usually found himself in during sex. It had everything to do with how badly he needed to hear you say it, how badly he needed to know that you needed him the same as he needed you.

“You make me feel so good, Jake.” You felt no need to fight the truth, and if feeding into his ego would ensure he never stopped, you would praise him until your lungs collapsed from a lack of oxygen. “Nobody can make me feel this good, only you, Jake.”

“Fuck,” he huffed, reaching down and pulling you up off the counter. He only withdrew for a second, just long enough to grab you by the hips and lift you up. He sat you on the counter, wasting little time before making a home between your legs again. He pulled you to the edge of the countertop, lining himself up with you and pushing back inside. “Being so good for me, today. What’s gotten into you?” He teased, smiling down at your pleasure ridden expression. The new position limited his movement, but it was all the more euphoric now that you could see his face.

You could not tell him the truth as to why you were so well behaved, because it had everything to do with the aching feeling of love burrowing into the muscles in your chest. You could not confess because of your own fears of falling in love, but even more so because of the fear of him not feeling the same. He had been just as intent on keeping your relationship casual, and you worried that if he knew you were losing your grip on your sanity, he would run and you would never see him again.

Instead, you leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, silencing yourself before you said something you could not take back.

Pride was filling the room, protecting your own ego’s while destroying anything that tried to infiltrate the walls you’d built up so high.

The two of you needed to hear the word so badly, but you could not let down your guard enough to give each other the satisfaction.

He let out a moan into your mouth as your walls clenched around him. You drank in the sound, letting it settle into your bones and overtake any moral and rationality that still existed. In that moment, after hearing a sound, no, tasting a sound so beautiful, you would have given your whole life for him without a second thought, just so you might be able to experience it again.

“Cum for me, angel.” He was begging you, and this time he had little choice in hiding it. “Please, baby.” The vulnerability in the two words absolutely shattered your psyche, and you no longer had control of the climax. There was no holding back, even if you wanted to. Your legs locked around him and your stomach burned as the muscles tightened. The pleasure you were feeling was maddening, and the only thought you could form was his name. It fell from your lips like a prayer, but there was no holy entity that could save you from his wrath. You had reached the pits of hell and there was no way you could climb your way out of it, now. The embers were familiar, and the brazen flames were inviting. The truth was harrowing, but you knew you would live within his sin happily for the rest of eternity. He made the worst of suffering seem pleasant, and he could even make the cold grasp of death seem comforting.

As you were coming down from the high, he pulled back from the warm embrace of your arms wrapped around his neck. You were so weak that you could not even mourn the loss of the closeness. He took one quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring that there was nothing laying on the table behind you. When he noticed the area was clear, he pushed your top half down on the table with the ferocity of a wild animal. He cushioned your head as you descended onto the frigid granite countertop, but did not care too much about your shock at the change in temperature. With a rough motion, he pulled your hips towards him again, tapping your leg so you knew to keep them locked around him.

With the new found freedom, he resumed his pace with a whole new type of strength. The obscenities falling from your lips were filthy, painting the kitchen with a sinful memory you would remember fondly for years to come. One of his hands trailed up your stomach, the light tickle offset the burning overstimulation from the movement of his hips. His fingers settled loosely around your neck, but he did not apply any pressure straight away. His thumb and index finger landed on your pulse points, and his eyes watched your face closely, clouded with desire and heavy with love.

“Can you do it again, sweet girl?” His voice was husky, his fingers tightening a little more with every word he spoke.

“I don’t think I can,” you whined, unsure if the burn of the overstimulation would ever subside into the pleasure he so often gave you. His pace felt bruising, and the pain for once seemed to overshadow the enjoyment.

“You can, baby.” He encouraged. “You’re being so good for me, angel. Just one more.” You choked out a moan at the sound of his sweet words. He slipped his other hand between your legs, his thumb tracing circles over your clit as he tightened his fingers once more. “Or do you just need to me to treat like a whore?” He questioned, his jaw hard set and his stare fiery. “Is that what it takes to get you off? Being treated like a slut?”

“Oh, fuck.” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut at his filthy question.

“That’s it, angel.” He hummed, feeling his hips stutter at the look on your face. You had always been his biggest weakness, and even after months of doing the same dance, that never seemed to change. The knot in your belly tightened, the pressure nearly unbearable. He seemed to pry the orgasm from you without even trying. All it took was the right words, and he had you in a complete mess for him. “You take it so good,” he hissed, trying to think of anything other than how good you felt wrapped around him.

His hand locked in against your throat, constricting the blood flow to your head. Your heart was pounding against your chest, the sound filling your ears and begging to be felt behind your eyes. You tried to keep your gaze focused on his face, his hair sticking to the soft, tan skin in the most delicious way. His eyebrows were furrowed together, and the animalistic expression was driving you mad. Your head felt woozy and your chest burned for air. Your eyes fluttered closed as the pressure reached its peak, and for a moment you feared that you might fall unconscious because of his unwavering hold. The pleasure was skewing his judgment, and he was teetering on a dangerous line. With both hands focused intently on you, you descended into a climax with no way of voicing your euphoria. A raspy croak left your lips to let him know you were there, but he could feel the clench of your cunt around him and the lock of your legs drawing him further into you.

He caught your eye, noticing the far away look and instantly feeling a wave of panic. He released his hold on your neck, allowing the blood flow to return and a breath of air fill your lungs. As you rode out the high, he let his fingers gently massage the place they’d just assaulted while he fucked you through it. When you relaxed against him, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His hips stuttered and pleasure took over, sending him over the same edge you’d just fallen from. He spilled his release into you, his pace remaining steady until he milked every second of pleasure from the orgasm as he could. He leaned back slightly, watching as he fucked his release back into you. The sight nearly brought him into a second climax, intoxicated by the fact that only he was lucky enough to have you in such a way.

When his hips slowed to a stop, a lazy smile crossed both of your faces. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled, letting his eyes drift over your chest still clothed with his t-shirt.

“I’m not complaining.” You assured him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, inspecting your neck. There was lingering redness from where his fingers were holding you, but it seemed superficial.

“I am.” You promised. “What’s gotten into you this morning?” His purchase of food and the sweetness of his morning wake-up was different than usual. Paired with the carnal desire and the overly concerned look in his eyes, you began to fear he was feeling the exact same way as you were.

“I don’t know.” He lied, giving a small laugh to avoid the subject. He knew exactly what had gotten into him, but it was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He was terrified of the love he had for you in his heart, and he was nowhere near ready to bring it up. “Let’s get cleaned up.” He said, running a gentle thumb over your blushed cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, and for a moment, you wished to stay there all day immersed in the moment of intimacy. You turned your head to the side, placing a small kiss on the pad of his thumb. The small gesture made his knees weak and nearly sent him falling to the ground. His heart sang with affection for you and his stomach twisted into knots.

He was a dead man walking, and you were not far behind him.

With his help, you slid from the counter and made your way to the bathroom. You cleaned up first, your eyes lingering on the shower, yearning for the feeling of warm water soothing your aching muscles. You pulled your shirt over your head and took a step towards the faucet, flicking it on without a second thought. You looked over your shoulder at him, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“You want me to fuck you in the shower, now?” He laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice quiet and anxious. You weren’t sure why you asked, but you desperately hoped that he would agree. The simple innocent intimacy seemed enticing, and you so badly wanted to be surrounded by his comfort for a little while longer. “Just a shower.”

“Oh,” he tried to hide the surprise in his tone, not wanting you to take it the wrong way. “Of course, angel.” He couldn’t seem to muster the strength to voice his enthusiasm over the idea, but his whole body was filled with delight at the thought of showering with you.

A small smile crossed your lips as you stepped inside, holding your hand out to him. He stepped towards you, his hand landing delicately in your own. When he was under the water with you, he slid the door shut, the steam already billowing around you both and fogging the glass. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling your body into his as the droplets washed down over both of you.

“Do you have anything else to do today?” You asked, your palm pressed lightly against his chest as you gazed up in admiration at his face.

“Nothing more important than this.”

Casual was long gone, and you were digging your graves. The final resting places were side by side, a tunnel dug through the earth so you could decompose hand in hand until the end of eternity.

“You must have really missed me, then.” You smiled, brushing the wet hair from his face.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He teased, placing a kiss to the top of your head. You both knew he missed you more than words could express, and you missed him just the same. For a moment, the two of you remained in each other's arms in silent bliss. Then, you reluctantly pulled away from him to reach for the bottle of shampoo that was on the shelf behind him. “Here,” he whispered, reaching for the bottle. You handed it to him, confused at his motive. You watched as he poured a small amount into the palm of his hand, then he placed it back on the shelf. He motioned for you to turn around, which you did without argument. His hand came to your head and he slowly began massaging the shampoo into your mess of tangled locks.

You closed your eyes and leaned against him, enjoying the soothing touch and feeling your chest ache with the intensity of adoration you held for him. You weren’t sure you’d ever experienced such kindness and gentleness at the hands of another, and you had no idea why you ever doubted that it would be from him that you received it. When he was certain your hair was fully coated in shampoo, a smile began to eat away at his lips as he brought all of your hair together at the top of your head.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, feeling the shake of laughter run through his body.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He dismissed you, still trying to form your hair together.

“If you’re trying to get it to stand up, it’s not going to work.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter, finding the childish humor contagious.

“You have no faith in me.” He let out a disapproving tsk, reaching his arms upwards in hopes that the makeshift mohawk would stay. For a few seconds, it stood, then it toppled over under the weight of the soap. The two of you burst out into laughter as the hair fell into your face, splattering the soap across your skin in a dramatic fashion.

“For good reason.” You explained, stepping forward into the water to wash the suds away from your eyes. He took a step towards you again, raising his hands to your head to help you wash the shampoo out. “Your turn.” You said, ringing the water from your hair as you stepped out from under the shower head.

“My turn?” He questioned, looking down at you with curiosity. You let out a hum of agreement, nodding your head.

“Unless you don’t want to use my shampoo, then it’s okay.” You digressed, worried that he might not want to smell your memory long after he went home.

“No, it’s okay.” He promised, fearful he gave you the wrong impression. A smile crossed your lips as you reached for the bottle again, this time bringing your hands to his hair as you massaged the soap throughout his long locks. When the soap was sufficiently sudsy, you compiled all of his hair into a neat little knot on the top of his head.

“I don’t think I’m tall enough.” You giggled.

“That’s okay, angel.” He found your laughter contagious, both of you giggling at nothing other than the joy that came from being together. Before you washed your hands free of soap, you quickly swiped a few of the bubbles onto his nose. “Hey!” He scolded, trying his best to look down at the bubbles littering his face. He reached forward, snaking his arms around your waist as he pulled you into him. You let out a shriek of laughter as he leaned down to kiss you, inevitably getting soap all over you, too. The blissful bubble the two of you existed within in that moment was impenetrable.

But, all good things must come to an end eventually, and not even your perfect little world was safe from the harshness of reality.

You both finished washing yourselves, reluctantly stepping out of the warm water and into the cold air. You tossed a towel at Jake while you grabbed one for yourself, wrapping your body in the fluffy fabric and relieving yourself from the frigid air. Once you were both sufficiently dry, Jake wrapped the towel tightly around his waist, watching you as you secured yours around your chest. You grabbed a smaller towel from your closet, wrapping your hair in it and settling it on your head.

You walked out of the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to make sure he was following. He thought it was laughable that you worried he wasn’t, because if he had it his way, he’d never let you stray too far away. He followed you into your bedroom, hoping for a second that your towel would falter. The boyish part of his brain never left, and he seemed to always be in that state of mind around you; pure, unadulterated joy that knew no bounds. He was always excited to see you naked, even if he’d seen it a hundred times. He was always thrilled to see a smile on your face or a laugh stuck on your lips. He loved listening to the words you had to say, even if they were mindless insults thrown his way. You brought out the part in him he thought he’d lost long ago, and he was afraid of the feeling fleeing him again.

As you dressed yourself, he watched intently. It was not in a sexual way, nor with any hidden desire. He loved admiring you even in the simplest of ways. He didn’t move to find clothes of his own until one of his t-shirts was hanging down to your thighs and a pair of shorts was secure underneath. He slipped on a pair of his sweatpants he’d brought with him and discarded his towel in your laundry hamper.

“I suppose we should probably eat.” You chuckled, stepping towards him but going no further. He smiled at your comment, realizing that you’d left your breakfast without a second thought. His hand landed on your waist as he pulled you into him, and he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let’s go, then.” He always wanted you to move first, just so he could be certain you wanted it and weren’t doing it just because he wanted to. You lead him back to the kitchen, looking over the counter that you’d just disgraced with your sinful actions. At the memory, another feeling of arousal blossomed in the pit of your stomach. Instead of acting on them, you grabbed your coffee cup and stuck it in the microwave. He grabbed two plates and put the respective sandwiches on them. When the microwave beeped, he passed the food to you to warm next while sipping on his cold coffee.

He’d grown to like it that way, because with you around, he never seemed to drink it while it was still warm, and you had yet to hear a single complaint about it.

“Thanks for getting this,” you hummed, taking a sip from your own cup. You’d still neglected to process that you were breaking the only rule you’d put in place. He did not order breakfast for any spiteful reason, or to push your boundaries; he did it simply because it felt right, and he was itching to do something nice for you after going so many days without you.

“No need for thanks.” He said, brushing off the acknowledgement. He felt no desire to be praised for something he was so eager to do. Once your food was heated sufficiently, you held your plate tightly in your hand, thinking intently about your next move. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You looked up at him, your eyes catching his own for a moment. The sweetness in his stare made your next choice the easiest one you’d ever made.

“Come with me.” You nodded down the hallway, hoping he wouldn’t protest. Little did you know, he’d never say no to anything you asked of him. You led him through the dining room, all the way to the end of the hallway where a door sat, rarely opened and never seen by a guest before that day. You balanced your coffee cup on your plate carefully, twisting the knob with great caution. You took a deep breath as you pushed the door open, willing yourself to keep moving forward as you stepped inside.

He was close behind you, silent and eyes wandering the new room he had yet to see. When you were fully inside and waiting for him to join you, he took a step inside, too. His eyes scanned the walls, an unfamiliar feeling rising in his chest as he drank in the detail and tried his best to sear it into his memory. Your heart was erratic against your ribs, your anxiety plaguing you as you watched his expression intently.

The picture frames decorated the walls, leaving little room to spare. Some were so close together that the delicate designs of the frames blended together. They were filled with photographs of smiling faces, so bright and beautiful that it nearly took his breath away. The daylight poured in from the windows, casting a golden glow over every object that made home inside the room. In the middle sat a piano, the top looking slightly dusty from months of being forgotten about. Piano books littered the few bookshelves that fit on the walls between the picture frames. On one sat an old camera that looked to be from the nineties, and just below it sat an acoustic guitar on a stand that appeared to be homemade.

“Welcome to my life.” You whispered, taking a seat on the bench sat in front of the piano. “What do you think?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this all this time.” He breathed, exasperated at the thought. “This piano is stunning.” He said, taking a step towards it and gently running his hand over the top.

“Thanks.” You gave a small smile, still incredibly anxious to have another person in your space. It was a room full of memories that you did not like sharing with anyone else, and aside from very few people, he had been the first to see it. There was a trust in your heart for him that you couldn’t comprehend, and for a moment, you felt like you could tell him everything.

“Did you take all of these pictures?” He asked, now stepping towards the walls. He was beyond excited that you finally took the step to show him a part of yourself you liked to keep hidden, but he did not want to express it too loudly in fear it might ruin the moment.

“Most of them.” You replied, watching him as he took in the photographs. “Every one of them that I’m not in.” You clarified, chuckling at the fact. “It’s mostly just pictures of my family.” It was true; there were pictures hung on the wall ranging back to when your hands first held a camera, and up until the recent years when your skill had vastly improved. It was mostly your parents and your sister, but there were a few of your childhood pets and friends.

“Is that your mom and dad?” He asked, pointing to a picture of a couple he did not recognize.

“Yep,” you nodded, smiling at his interest. You wanted to say more, but the words seemed stuck in your throat. You were having a hard time processing your desire to tell him more, so you sat with it instead of acting on it.

“You look just like your mom.” He noted. “You have your dads smile, though.” Your heart warmed at the sentiment. “That must be your sister, too, because you look like twins.” He pointed to a different picture.

“It is.” You chuckled.

“I can’t wait to meet her. If she’s anything like you, I know I’ll love her.” You both dusted over the ‘L’ word as if it were nothing at all, barely registering the fact he’d said it.

“She is pretty great, but I think I’m biased.” You grinned. When it came to your sister, you would talk praise until you could no longer hear yourself speak.

“You take stunning photographs, y/n.” He said, not a hint of a joke in his tone. Your cheeks reddened as you bit into your sandwich. You let the compliment hang in the air for a moment before responding.

“Thank you, Jake.” You said, feeling the fear melt away the longer you sat together. “Did you… did you want to play a song on the guitar, maybe?” You asked, hesitancy written all over your face. You thought that it was finally time to take the step, and now that he knew such intimate details about you, you craved the same from him.

“You want to hear me play?” He turned back to you, shocked at your words.

“Yeah.” You nodded, certain of that fact. “Just… just be careful with it, please. I don’t want anything to happen to it. The strings are old, too, so it might not sound the best.”

“Of course.” He assured you, carefully grabbing the acoustic from the stand. Your stomach was twisting with anxiety as he held the instrument in his hands, but you managed to swallow your fear. “This is a beautiful guitar, too.” You hummed an agreement, knowing that he wasn’t just saying it as a formality. It was a stunning instrument, and it was your most prized possession. He walked over, taking a seat beside you on the bench as he settled the body in his lap. Carefully, he plucked the strings and tuned them to his liking. “Anything in particular you want to hear?” You pondered the thought for a moment, knowing there were plenty of songs you’d love to hear him play, but curious about what he would choose. After a few seconds, you shook your head.

He looked over your face, knowing that his best shot to impress you might also give him a chance at expressing his feelings for you at the same time. Carefully, he began a melodic intro, carefully plucking away at the strings as he smiled at your expression of awe. With a lot of courage, he sang softly along with the sound of the guitar, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

“Well she's walking through the clouds

With a circus mind

That's running wild

Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams

And-a fairly tales

That's all she ever thinks about

Riding with the wind

When I'm sad she comes to me

With a thousand smiles

She gives to me free

"It's alright", she says

It's alright

Take anything you want from me

Anything

Fly on, little wing.” Slowly, he stopped playing, looking up from his hands with a hopeful expression.

“You really are a rockstar,” you gave a soft smile “that was fantastic.” Deep down, you hoped that he picked that song for the reason you wanted him to, but you were too nervous to ask.

“Thank you, angel.” He smiled, looking down at his hands to hide the redness that was plaguing his cheeks.

“I didn’t know you could sing, too.”

“I usually leave the singing to Josh.” He admitted, brushing some dust off the body of the guitar. “He’s way better than I am.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” You whispered, the profound emotion in your statement almost too much for him to handle.

“I, uh, I didn’t know you played guitar, too.” He changed the topic, feeling the burn of love begin to sear the skin of his lips as he tried to hold it back.

“Oh, I don’t.” You chuckled. “I tried to learn when I was a kid, but it’s not my thing. I kind of sucked at it, if I’m being honest. The piano has always been my choice of instrument.”

“So where’d you get this?” He asked, inspecting the details of the fretboard.

“It’s my dads.” You replied, swallowing down your sadness with a sip of coffee. “He played it all of the time when I was a kid. He tried to teach me, but I was too stubborn to learn.”

“And that camera is his, too?” He asked, his eyes flickering back towards the bookshelf on the wall. “I remember you told me you used your dads camera when you started doing photography.” Your heart fluttered at the thought of him remembering all the small details you told him.

“Yeah, it is. For an old camera, it takes pretty good pictures.” You tried not to let your stare linger on the camera, feeling the sorrow fill your chest up so much that it made it hard to breathe.

“You must be pretty close to him,” he noted.

“You can say that.” You gave a slow nod. “My dad was my best friend for my entire childhood. We did everything together, and so much so that I think it made my sister jealous sometimes. Wherever he was, I had to go with him. Mom got mad at him a lot, because he never said no to me. We’d stay up until midnight watching cartoons and we’d eat ice cream for breakfast on the weekends.” You explained, looking down at your hands as you spoke. “He was just one of those people that understood me, and I think when you’re a girl growing up, not many people do. He always listened, and he always had the best advice. I love my mom, but my dad and I were just… we got along better than anyone else in the world, I think.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiled, looking over at you with adoration in his eyes. He was thrilled to hear so much about you, and he never thought the two of you would get to this point. “I’d love to meet him.” You looked up, catching his eye with a sympathetic smile.

“He would have loved you.” You replied, seeing the light in his eyes change. He wanted clarification before he spoke further, and you could see that in his expression. “He passed away not long before I graduated high school.”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He felt bad for his earlier words, even if he did not know the truth.

“Don’t be,” you shook your head “you didn’t know.” You reached over, brushing a strand of his long hair out of his face. “I was lucky to know him for as long as I did, and I’m still just as lucky to have him as a memory. Seventeen years with him was equivalent to a lifetimes worth of love. I wish he was still here, but I know that he’s not really gone. He’s in that guitar, and that camera, and he’s proud of every accomplishment and he’s still picking me up off the ground when I fall.” You explained. Although you knew it might not be true, it always felt like it was. Since he died, you neglected to believe that he just lived when he was alive. You felt the love so strongly sometimes that it was impossible to believe he wasn’t still around in some way. “He really would have liked you, I think. He loved Jimi Hendrix, too.” You laughed, finding his song choice impeccable.

You weren’t sure what it was, but you felt the confession sitting heavy on your chest when you looked at him for too long. Whether it was the blatant vulnerability, or the way he looked at you the same even after you expressed such horrible things about your life. Whatever it was, the moment made you want to scream your love for him, even if you knew you shouldn’t. You had never been so transparent with anyone before, and you never wanted to be so open about your life, but there was something so compelling about him that it was impossible to ignore the desire to be close to him.

“Jimi Hendrix is pretty good.” Jake laughed, astounded by the strength that lived within you. He didn’t think it was possible to admire someone as much as he did for you, but here he was, sitting in front of you and feeling all of the feelings he believed to be impossible.

The air was different, and both of you could tell that whatever dynamic you had before that day had shifted drastically.

For good or for bad, you weren’t sure yet.

You turned inwards, placing your hands on the keys of the piano. You did not want to show off, nor did you want to prove your own talents; the moment was moving, and all you wanted to do was share more of yourself with him. You began a slow intro, working yourself up to speed. It had been a while since you played, and it was fantastic to feel the keys on your fingers and the sound fill your heart.

“I've got a little black book with my poems in

Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in

When I'm a good dog, they sometimes throw me a bone in.” You took in a long breath, nervous to be showing such an intimate part of you to him. Little to your knowledge, he was watching you with hearts in his eyes and nothing but love in his heart.

“I got elastic bands keepin' my shoes on

Got those swollen-hand blues

I got thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from

I've got electric light

And I've got second sight

I got amazing powers of observation

And that is how I know

When I try to get through

On the telephone to you

There'll be nobody home.” You closed your eyes for a moment, playing for a little longer than you needed to so you could regain your composure. Quietly, you could hear him picking away at the guitar, not in an attempt to outshine you, but to accentuate your playing. The two of you were in perfect harmony, moving in time with the music surrounded with more comfortability than you’d ever felt in your entire life. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with the emotion you felt for him.

“I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm

And the inevitable pinhole burns

All down the front of my favourite satin shirt

I've got nicotine stains on my fingers

I've got a silver spoon on a chain

Got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains

I've got wild staring eyes

And I've got a strong urge to fly

But I got nowhere to fly to

Ooh, babe when I pick up the phone

there's still nobody home.” You hit the last few notes, letting the sound ring through the quiet room. You looked up, staring at the wall for a moment to gather your thoughts before turning back towards him.

“You’ve got quite the voice, angel.”

“It’s nothing to call home about.” You chuckled, taking a long drink from your coffee.

“I think it is. I’d tell the whole world about you, if I could.” In that moment, the ability to hold back his thoughts fled him. “I… I think that you’re fantastic, y/n, and I hope that you know that.” You looked up at him, nervous about the confession but knowing that you felt the same way. “And I think that I’d like to do this part… more often.”

“What are you saying?” You breathed, trying to understand if he was expressing what you thought he was trying to say. Anxiety gripped you with its deadly force, panic overtaking your mind before you could even appreciate the sentiment in his words.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He sighed, hating that he couldn’t seem to keep the feelings buried. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. We’re in here, showing each other parts of our lives we try so hard to keep hidden. This has been more than sex for a very long time, and I think that you know it, too.” A spark of terror filled you, and you recoiled away from him. He was right, but your fear was larger than your heart, just like it always had been. Love was less daunting when it was buried underneath the surface, and when he expressed it so outwardly and obviously, it morphed into the monster that only lived in your worst nightmares. You weren’t ready to discuss it, and you weren’t ready for anything to change. By speaking it aloud, it changed everything, and you could not stomach that thought in the moment. Change was terrifying, and you did not have enough strength to endure it.

So you did what you knew best; you shut down and locked him out, your heart rebuilding the thick iron bars that often protected it so furiously.

“I brought you in here because we’re friends.” You took the defense, terrified of speaking the truth because you had not yet processed what it truly meant. Your vulnerability had taken a toll, and you began to realize that you had dug yourself a hole too steep to climb out of. You loved him so deeply that it pained you, that it made opening up to him easier than anything else, but facing it was an entirely different thing. Your harshness did not come from your lack of love, but from your abundance of it. You loved him so much, but you did not know how to love anymore. As much as it hurt to reject him when all you wanted to do was fall into his arms forever, you knew it was the best thing to do. You would hurt him more by trying to love him than you ever would if you rejected him. “You were so desperate to be friends, and I thought that was all you wanted. You can’t… we can’t.” You shook your head.

“Friends.” He reiterated, unable to explain the incessant ache in his chest at the word. “Right.” He was angry at himself for ever pushing that title on you, and he wondered if it would have made the difference if he didn’t.

“Jake,” you warned, pleading for him to listen before he jumped to any conclusions. You did not want to end your relationship, but you did want to slow down before things got out of control.

“No, y/n. I hear you loud and clear.” He said, making a move to stand. “You’re right.” His obstinacy had rivalled your own since the very beginning, and you could finally see the infuriating effects of it. His lack of understanding prompted a rush of anger through you.

“You don’t get to do that!” You shook your head, standing up with him.

“I don’t get to do what?” He snapped back, placing the guitar back on the stand with great caution. His words were harsh, but his actions were not. He would never disrespect an item of such importance to you, no matter how upset he was. “I don’t get to be upset? I don’t get to talk about the things that I’m feeling?”

“Christ, Jake, stop putting words in my mouth!” You were panicking, and all of your fear was projecting outwards with an angry mask. You were terrified of loving him, but you were horrified at the thought of him leaving. You did not know what to do to make it better; if you said you loved him, you would be sealing your own grave, and if you didn’t, he would walk away and you would lose him for good. “I didn’t say that, and you know that!”

“Then what? What is it, y/n?” He sighed, watching you with a small shred of hope that you’d double back on your word. He knew you felt it too, and it killed him that you refused to accept it. The entire day was filled with nothing but wordless acts of love, and to deny it and throw it all in the garbage was worse than any physical injury you could cause him.

“You said this wouldn’t happen. You promised that you wouldn’t do this, and then you come here, and you treat me better than anyone ever has, and you make coffee, and you text me just to let me know you’re thinking of me, and then you buy me fucking breakfast!” You exploded, pointing to the coffee cup still sat on the piano stool.

“Jesus Christ, it always comes back to fucking breakfast! Please enlighten me on what is so bad about it?” He yelled back, just as much intensity in his voice.

“Because I don’t know if you’re going to wake up tomorrow and change your mind!” You admitted, running a hand through your hair. “I don't know if you’re doing all of this because you want me to keep sleeping with you, or if you truly mean it. I don’t know anything, and I don’t want to be in love, and I never wanted this!” You did not want to be in love, but by god, you were. If it had been anyone else, they would have been gone before they had the chance to order breakfast. They would never have stepped foot into the room you were fighting in, and in truth, you never would have brought them home at all. If it were anyone other than Jake, you would not have looked twice, but you were so head over heels for him that you were fighting for him to stay, even if it did not seem like that was what you were doing. He watched you, carefully inspecting every detail of your pained expression. Questioning his care for you was the most heinous act you’d ever committed. You knew he cared, and he knew you did, too, but you were so damaged that it was easier to convince yourself that he didn’t. Although he held sympathy for that fact, he could not seem to choke down the pain that you caused with your sharp tongue and violent words. “You promised me, Jake. You promised this wouldn’t happen.”

“I did.” He nodded, casting his gaze towards the ground. “And I meant it. You don’t have to fucking worry about it.” He could not fight another losing battle, and he knew that was exactly what this was. He could not win your heart if it was never offered as a reward. You did not want him to love you, and he could not force you to let him. Instead, he was walking away.

Well, he was threatening it whilst hoping you would ask him to stay.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You knew it was not justified, but you were hurt over the fact that he wanted to take his confession back. You felt it just the same as he did, but you were too scared to admit it. All he could see was rejection, and the injury was bleeding both of you dry. He wasn’t even sure why you were fighting, or where it came from. The sweetness that had carried you through the morning was long gone, replaced with a feeling he’d never felt around you before: resentment. He resented the situation, but in that moment, it felt like he resented you.

“Exactly what I said; you don’t have to fucking worry about it.” He repeated, venomous and dangerous. A different man stood before you than the one you knew just moments before. This one was cold, unfamiliar, and someone you did not want to be around. The heartbreak turned him vile, and now all he wanted to do was hurt you the same way you were hurting him.

“So that’s it?” You whispered, feeling the room fill with anguish. Your safest space now housed the worst of memories. The situation turned into everything you feared most, but you were the only one to blame. Had you been able to admit to all you were feeling in your heart, the situation may have changed for the better.

“That’s it.” He agreed. “You don’t have to worry about me falling in love. You don’t even have to worry about me liking you. No love, no feelings, nothing. You were a great lay, but not worth much more than that, sweetheart. I hate that I ever thought otherwise, but you are just sex to me. That’s it.” He didn’t mean a thing he was saying, but he was so blinded by hurt that anger was the only thing he could show. If he could have taken the words back, he would have. The pain in your eyes nearly brought him to his knees, and he knew he would never be able to repent from the suffering he caused.

“I have no idea why I ever thought you were different.” You spat, the choke of tears beginning to suffocate you. “I can’t believe I let myself fall for it.” You muttered to yourself. “Get out, Jake, and don’t ever come back.”

“My pleasure.” He agreed, pushing past you without another word. You did not even turn to watch him walk away, instead settling your gaze on the guitar that he’d tainted with his touch. You heard him gather his things into his bag, and after a few moments, the slam of your front door let you know that the struggle was over. He was gone, and he would never return, just like you asked. You had pushed him away to the point of no recovery, and the tears that stained your cheeks reminded you that you were the sole blame for the failure of your relationship.

Pride has outweighed sloth in every aspect, but the sins you had committed for once were completely different than Jake’s.

He had too much pride to apologize, and too much pride to recognize that you were hurting more than he was. If he had swallowed his feelings for a moment to see the ache that was plaguing you, he would have understood that your rejection was not because of a lack of love, but because of an abundance of fear. You loved him just as fiercely as he loved you, but you were so damaged from the love that came before him. You could not choke down that hurt, and you could not see past it for long enough to recognize that he only had your best interest in mind. Jake did not want to hurt you, and he would never have treated you in the ways that others had, but you had pushed him to the point of cruelty. It took a lot for him to muster the courage to say how he was feeling, and you had faced him with nothing but bold-faced rejection.

His attempt at protecting himself only made him more vulnerable, and in turn, only hurt the person he loved most. The cruel words he said were not true, and they replayed in his head for the entire drive home. Pride made it so he appeared stone cold, and that his feelings were more important than yours. In truth, there was nothing more important to him than the sound of your beating heart and the things that made it possible to do so. He wished so badly that he could have put his guard down for a moment, to let you in and tell you everything he wanted to say to you. Instead, his last heartbreak left so little of him to give to you and he could not face the truth without defenses.

He was plagued with the knowledge that other people took so much of him that he could not give you all that you deserved.

Your sinful entanglement with pride came from your inability to confess your true feelings to him. You were too prideful to realize that he needed to hear it more than you needed to keep it hidden, and you were too stubborn to admit that you knew he would keep all of your confessions safe. Instead of facing the truth, you wallowed in the consequences of dishonesty. You loved his sweet words and his messages confessing that he missed you. He did treat you better than anyone ever had, and you knew that it was not because he wanted to keep you on a hook, but because of the love he held for you in his heart. Most of all, you knew that you loved sharing a breakfast with him while you shared the most intimate details of your lives.

You loved Jake with all of your heart and soul, and you had never loved anyone with quite as much intensity. You loved him selflessly and wholly, and although you loved being alone, you loved being alone with him even more. You knew that he was what your heart desired most, but for some reason, when he confessed his own likeness to your heart, you could not handle the profound feelings. You were terrified, and that much was obvious, but it was even more than that. You could not handle someone as wonderful as Jake loving you so deeply, because you did not feel like you deserved it. You could not imagine bestowing your own sorrows and suffering upon him, and you could not bear the thought of making his life harder when he made yours so much better.

He was too prideful to show that you hurt him, and you were too prideful to let him know that he had the ability to hurt you. He let you know that he cared for you, but he could not see past his own hurt enough to realize that your words had nothing to do with his character. He took it personally when it had nothing to do with him at all. You could not admit that you cared, but it was not because it was him you cared about. Loving him was easier than falling asleep, but being in love was a dangerous game, and you feared if you fell again, you might not survive it.

Lust drove you to each other, and his otherworldly charm made you gluttonous. You needed him so badly that you had resorted to greed, and sloth had paralyzed you into submission at the hands of love. Pride, although not the most powerful sin, seemed to be the most deadly yet. It had driven you away from the only home you’d ever known, and it ensured that you severed the bond between you with expert precision. Sin was bleeding from the walls as you sat in a pool of your own tears and self pity. You begged for forgiveness, for mercy at the hands of an entity that knew no such thing.

The devil doesn’t bargain, and he was ensuring that you would suffer the consequences of your own mistakes. You were so far gone that the grace of God could not touch you, and the only relief could come from Satan himself.

When fate is in the hands of evil itself, hope is a feeble word, and any shred of hope you still held in your heart had been struck down without a trace.

With only two of the capital vices left to go, sin seemed like the only thing you knew how to do. You feared that after so long of defying the gods, salvation would never be found.

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlover @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-firerod-blog @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby

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notroosterbradshaw · 11 months

Text

slow dancing in a burning room - six

word count: 5.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: well, they're broken. it's unceremonious and it's real and they're hurting so deeply, coping in ways only they know... the wrong way. You're here to meet Bad Choice Bradley, I presume? I hope you enjoy it. thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support and if you like it… please comment and reblog it! x

five.two

“Rooster,” Annie smiled before him, Ava strapped to her chest in her baby carrier sleeping peacefully.

Bradley felt his poor, old heart sink because he’d done so well to now avoiding you and your family since everything blew the fuck up in your relationship. It was a small town and the more you tried to avoid someone, the more likely they were to cross your path. “Ann,” he gave a slight smile. “How you doin'?”

“Morning coffee brings me back to life after a rough night,” she reported. “Not on base today? Look at the beard,” you said, fondly as he realised Annie didn't have a clue.

“No,” he bit back the sour taste in his mouth. Obviously you’d not told your family about his pending trial… and in a way, he guessed he was thankful. It probably brought a certain amount of embarrassment to you, if he thought about it truthfully, given Viper and the respect he still commanded at work and from the locals. You didn’t need his bullshit on your shoulders. "Few more weeks to myself. Just finished my run,” he said even though it appeared the most obvious thing in the world. Shorts, runners, Navy tank glued to him, sweating from top to toe from morning humidity.

He just wanted to get his coffee and head home to shower. He should have just forgone the fucking caffeine. He had a perfectly good coffee machine at home for Christ’s sake. He cursed the fact you introduced him to this coffee shop and he knew, eventually he’d see you here, but he’d been so smart. He knew your work schedule and now, he was always the first in line when he knew your first classes for the day were clocking over. He was no dummy - sure, he had his moments when his head was stuck up his ass, but caffeine was his drug of choice and after you’d secretly revealed to him the best in the town and he was addicted. “Lucky. You just missed her…” Annie told him softly, nodding off in the direction towards work... his villa was in the opposite direction and taunting him and his poor choices.

He hummed, unreadable. “Did I?” He was pleased with the relief that washed over him. It was such a non-committal response and he knew he owed Annie so much better. Annie wasn't the cause of his recurring cycle of problems. But shit, he was so good at making his problems... everyone’s.

“Loves her morning coffee,” Annie waved her reusable cup towards him, and gee, it was so awkward. Rooster nodded, pleased that he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one in this conversation. Even Annie, usually outgoing, funny Annie, seemed completely out of character with her current word vomit.

And though he was desperate to, he would not ask after you because he knew there was no way you could feel as awful as he did but he forced it out anyway. “How is she, Annie?” he tried to hide the sadness in his voice, but it was impossible. He was so desperate to catch even the slightest whisper about you - whether it was Annie, Phoenix or any other mutual acquaintances. The radio silence was quietly killing him.

After a beat, Annie replied warily, “A wreck. Not that she’d ever let us know. We’re not seeing hell a lot of her so that kind of speaks for itself, I guess. Or it's exactly what she wants, I don't know," she rambled because Bradley could see Annie didn't know what to do to help you, and that hurt him more. The frustration in the air was paramount. The people you were once closest to now the one furthest at arm's length and he knew that was because of him.

“Right,” he replied, forcing a lack of interest in his voice. He didn’t want to sound emotional that you were upset, but he certainly didn’t want to feel sad for you for the decision that you made. Bradley needed you to know that you were feeling the way you were feeling for what you decided to drag you both through. He wanted to work things out, he didn't want either of you to be hurting like this - “Sorry to hear that.” He shrugged, knowing how cold it sounded and the surprise on Annie's face telling the story. What the fuck else was he supposed to say?

All the texts he'd sent bounced, and he knew you'd blocked him - what was the use of calling? He considered sending flowers, champagne, fucking skywrite if it got your attention, but all his desperate ways for your attention would fall on deaf ears. And as desperate as he was to go to you, knock on your door and hold you until reason came back into that smart brain of yours, he knew for now, you simply needed your time. He just hoped it wasn't forever.

“So... how are you?” Annie asked, welcomingly changing the subject.

He shrugged, sipping his coffee. He didn't feel like admitting he was about to head home, shower and see his JAG. It just didn't feel like it could roll off his tongue properly without the rest of his life crashing around him. He’d been so good to protect his façade and damn, he lied so easily. It was his most hated personality trait and he wished he could stop it, but sometimes it was just easier. “PT,” he lied, but he knew fully well Annie didn’t care for his physical recovery - she had good intentions but he knew she wanted to pry into his convoluted, messed up brain, see if he was as tragically missing her sister, if he was as tormented as you were.

Dissect and get into the deepest, darkest crevices.

But Bradley would never tell. There were enough people trying to get in there as it was. And right now he wasn’t going to give anyone the benefit of that bullshit. That hurt stayed with him, no matter the cost. It motivated him, got him through the day to be better, stronger, harder and he wasn't letting his guard down for anyone, not Annie, not Phoenix, not Mav.

Not you. No one.

“That’s fantastic,” she said as Ava wriggled against her, waking. “I’m glad for you, Rooster,” Annie bobbed to settle the little one, whining and probably ready for her morning feed. "You need your head in the clouds."

If that ever happened again.

“She got big,” Rooster said, keenly changing the subject and turning his attention to Ava. He reached for her her little hand and Ava wrapped her chubby little palm against his pointer. Bradley knew even if kids weren't in his future, the future he had quietly hoped to share with you, this was a cute kid and it only reminded him of you when you were playing World’s Greatest Aunty and putting the idea in his head that maybe… yeah, he could get the family he always wanted with you. It was going to take more to desensitise himself, he realised.

“They do that,” Annie said, with a gentle smile. “Way too quickly. I feel like she's minutes away from rolling, crawling, and then up and walking out to college."

And Rooster laughed, because there was Annie, the Annie he grew up with. They both needed that little break in the terse. "I hope not that fast," he gently pressed a kiss on Ava's knuckles and loosened his finger, free again.

"Well, I’d better get her home for some food and start our day. Good to see you, Rooster,” she gave him a small smile. “If you need anything, call me, okay? Don’t be a stranger.”

Bradley did the cordial thing and nodded. “Will do. See ya around, Annie," he said, not waiting for a dragged out goodbye and heading in the other direction. He had a house to start bringing back to life even if he had fallen apart in every other way.

It had been about month since you and Bradley… yeah. Since then. Things had been fairly busy for you, you’d stayed to yourself, regardless of nagging from your family, some other friends who wanted to claim your time now you were single again and, of course, Natasha. She was shipping out in a few days and wanted to have a drink but the last place you’d be caught dead at was The fucking Hard Deck. Reassuring everyone you were good, or okay, was next to useless. No one believed you anyway.

You'd kept yourself busy. The apartment needed to be unpacked again, with no time like the present, a perfect time to purge and it felt so much better in your small part of the world that you’d rid yourself of those little things you simply didn’t need anymore. Clothes, kitchenwares, changed up the orientation of the bedroom, indulging and confusing yourself with feng shui and vastu shastra on household karma/good vibes among other things.

But you really did feel lighter. You built a cute study nook for your business stuff. You and Bradley had planned to use one of the rooms in the Bradshaw place, giving you more time to work from home, instead of staying later after classes to do your never-ending small business accounting.

But that wasn’t the case now and you had all the time in the world.

“Fuck, Nat. Stop,” you muttered to yourself, scarfing down some leftovers for dinner. It was late and frankly, you had little to no interest in heading out, even if it was to a venue of your choice. You had to give Natasha credit: she was trying so hard to release you from your self-imposed imprisonment. You know what you were up for - 20 questions about how you were coping. You'd be lying to say you weren't worried about his impending trial and were curious to reach out. But it probably would just distract him and he didn’t need that. You were sure it was this week or next.

Maybe you would get Grandpa to contact Bradley?

But as far as you were concerned, Bradley seemed to be doing just fine. Like you’d agreed, you didn’t need each other anyway. Besides, he hadn't contacted you - and you hadn't let him after yep, taking the high road and blocking him. Maybe he needed this more than you did, you tried to reason with yourself. A guy like him didn't deserve to be tied down with someone who had the baggage you did. He deserved better.

You tossed your fork on the plate, suddenly not hungry for the stir fry you were desperate for only minutes earlier although the need to get tiddly didn't sound terrible at all.

Enjoying his quiet drink, Rooster knew his time was running out as Phoenix sidled her way to him, a fair smile on her face. Unreadable, and God, he hated that. “Didn’t know you were coming out tonight,” she commented, as she put two beers on Payback’s tab, placing one before Bradley.

She followed his gaze to the pretty woman across the bar, making pathetic doe eyes and suggestive overtones with her beer bottle and tongue. Natasha would never get used to it. And sadly, Rooster seemed pretty into it, for what she could gather. “Know her?” Phoenix asked as Rooster’s lip quirked and he stumbled to find an undefined answer.

Truth be told, yeah. Rooster did know her. Not super well, but well enough to remember how into him she seemed as she led him back to her place last week, the first person he’d fucked since… and, he supposed, it was fine. It was good, she was eager to please and she had zeroed in on him the minute he walked in last week and again tonight. Rooster didn’t generally put his boots under the same bed twice, but he lately wasn’t feeling particularly fussy. He did ask himself if there was a supposed grieving period for how long he should probably wait before getting into the game again but his brain (and Hangman) told him what he needed to hear.

Fuck her.

“Oh, Rooster, no. You slept with her?” Natasha asked, the disappointment dripped from her voice and Bradley felt about three feet tall.

“Oh, fuck this,” he bemoaned. “She broke up with me, I have to be celibate too?” he asked. It seemed so rehearsed and he didn't lie but he knew the shit he was going to cop for spending time with any woman that wasn’t you.

Natasha sighed. “No, I guess not.”

“Believe it or not, I can fuck who and when I want, Phoenix,” he gruffly reminded her. "You don't get to dictate."

“No, you’re right,” she agreed. Who was she to argue? She was desperate for her friends to get over this little ‘blip’, but seeing you separately and the hurt you’d both caused each other, she began to wonder if this blip as she'd hopefully referred to is as was really the end of what could have been the best thing that happened to both of you.

You were no longer a couple. Rooster had moved into his parents' old place alone and seemed to be enjoying taking to it with a sledgehammer. You were doing your usual MO when things went sour – you didn’t answer calls, and rarely responded to texts before anyway. You were working and looking at growing the business, so it was the best excuse in the books not to come to the bar, a surefire way of making sure she didn’t pump into Bradley.

“I can’t see him, Nat. He was the love of my life. And not being able to touch him, kiss him, laugh with him? It would just kill me,” you had told her sadly, week’s earlier when Natasha came over unannounced and sporting Thai food and rosé.

“What is so fucking funny is that I keep hearing how badly she is doing, yet no one gives a flying fuck that maybe, just maybe, I’m going through it too," Bradley muttered, Natasha surprise crossing her face as he continued, "Nat, we were moving in together. But it’s over now,” he poured what was left of his beer down his throat, knowing that coming out tonight was not his wisest idea. Bad Choice Bradley was bubbling in his bloodstream and frankly, he didn't mind if he escaped. He was so sick of doing everything by the rules, but where had that gotten him? Absolutely no-fucking-where. Jobless and Loveless. “And for the record?” he hissed purposefully to Natasha. “I was in that fuckin’ relationship too. I didn't call time.”

“Okay, okay,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re wholeheartedly allowed to feel that way. We just don’t see you… as down about it,” she used her words carefully.

“It was weeks ago,” he sniped.

“It wasn’t that long - ”

“Jesus, Phoenix. She was the fucking love of my life,” he hissed. "I wanted to work this out. She blocked my number, she wants nothing to do with me."

Natasha held her palm towards his chest but didn’t dare touch him, she could feel the heat, the anger reverberating off him. “Okay, I agree. I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting, buddy. And I’ve let you down.”

He frowned and paused. “What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t just the breakup, Rooster,” Natasha said, adjusting her posture to stand with him and continuing before she could let up. “Everything has been a bit of a shitstorm. Your past is always following you around, you were part of a suicide mission that almost got you killed and now you’re waiting for trial and I should have been doing more to make sure you were okay with that."

And for the moment, Bradley was silenced and frown in reply.

"Are you still seeing the shrink?”

He huffed out a breath, replacing his beer eagerly with the one Natasha had slid towards him. He didn’t need this holier-than-thou bullshit where Natasha got to try and save him to be really honest. He just gazed back at her, now unreadable.

“Isn’t it mandatory?” she pressed lightly. “You should really be talking to someone – ”

“I’m still going, I’m hating it. If I don’t get clearance from the shrink, I never get in my jet again regardless of how the trial plays itself out. Satisfied?” he rolled his eyes. “See ya later, Phoenix,” he said, leaving his her side and heading over to his new friend, who greeted him with a tender kiss on the side of his mouth, and while he wasn’t repulsed, you used to do that to him, and he didn’t like it half as much as he used to.

“Didn’t think you were going to come over and say hi, Rooster.”

“I’m here with friends,” he admitted, whom he’s just ditched to come over here and line up an easy lay for the night.

“You wanna dance?”

He nodded, a small grin gracing his features that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Yeah, lemme hit the bathroom first really quick, okay?”

“Sure,” she smiled as he grasped her forearm, gave the easy smoulder and disappeared. And she, with the name he couldn’t recall (but really wanted to), devotedly followed moments later. Messy, unplanned bar head wasn’t on his bingo card for the night, but he’d surely take it. He tried to be surprised when she cornered him into the stall and undid the few top buttons on her shirt, her breasts brushing against his chest as she groped his half-hard cock and played with the zip on his jeans before letting her soft, warm palm slide beneath his boxer briefs. His breathing immediately shallow because her hand was better than his hand and she sank to her knees and licked her lips, she didn't give an ounce of hesitation to take him deep.

He guessed he never really had to work hard to get what he wanted.

And he couldn’t hate himself more for it, because he compared everything to you. The way your big, beautiful eyes would peer up at him, begging for reassurance you were pleasing him, giving everything he deserved and more, your delicate strands he’d mess his long fingers into… it wasn’t the same but he came deep in the back of her throat that she swallowed and tidied up devoutly and he kind of wanted to be sick. But as she did that thing with her tongue, he wanted to cum so badly, as she gripped his thighs to keep her balance, he regarded her, knowing this wasn’t a woman he could fall in love with. He would only ever love one woman and right now, she wanted nothing to do with him.

He shook the notion from his head, concentrating on how silky her tongue caressed the head of his cock and remembered this didn’t happen all the time and to enjoy it as he thrust into her face, closing his eyes and imagining you again, getting him over the line as he knotted his fingers in her hair and fucked her face. Seeing you and those pretty sounds you’d make gagging on his cock, deep as you possibly could and what you couldn’t, pumping in your delicate palms.

He grunted as he came in wild spurts down her throat until he was spent and watched as she tidied him up, sweetly placing his softening dick back in his boxers and pulling his jeans back into place, sweetly caressing his throbbing groin.

With a quiet laugh, he helped her to her feet, cupping her chin a little rough. "You didn't need to do that, you know?"

"No," she agreed. "But you tasted so good time, I couldn't wait for more."

Bradley blushed, mostly ashamed. He certainly had nothing to be proud about. “I’ll be right out…” he said to her and she nodded and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lipstick was improper, her hair was well and truly a mess. Just how he liked it… if it was you. And he knew she would run out to tell her friends exactly what had happened, darting out alone.

Rooster looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection and rubbed his tired face. “Who the fuck are you, Bradshaw?” he accused himself. He took a deep breath, ran his hands under the cool water, washed his palms then splashed some water on his flushed face. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself before inhaling sharply and straightening up.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,” Natasha muttered to herself as Bob caught wind of her strife and looked up from his peanuts, concerned for his friend. "Fuckkk."

“What’s up, partner?” he asked, perplexed. She lifted her phone and the text you’d just sent. “Oh,” Bob said, adjusting his glasses, a trait he did constantly as he grew nervous. “That is… that is not good.”

“No…” Natasha agreed, casting her gaze to find Rooster, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.”

Rooster had spotted his new friend with her group and gave a slight nudge towards the exit when she caught his eye. Excitedly, she gave a wink back as her friends gave her teasing words of encouragement but Rooster didn’t care. He just needed to get out of there.

The bar was stifling and he didn’t feel like Phoenix’s third degree on his life choices anymore. He wasn’t a dickhead – he was well aware he was making poor decisions. Bad Choice Bradley. But this wasn’t his first one lately, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

Darting through the throng of officers and civilians, he made a beeline for the door, thrusting it open, and he’d be lying to say in his frustration, there was some heat and malice behind it.

“Jesus, goddammit,” the voice hissed on the other side, the heavy door hitting a patron on the other side trying to enter. Rooster tried to catch them, almost knocking them to the ground in the process and he couldn't believe his dumb luck that it was you who were on the other side as he tried to phantom his escape. You skipped backwards quickly as Rooster yanked the door back, trying to stop its force. His face paled when he realised just who it was he’d almost knocked off their feet.

He whispered your name, and you’d swear you had seen a ghost. “Shit, I’m so fuckin' sorry," he said, the recognition all over his face as he took you in, scared and studying you.

"Shit," you muttered. Bradley could hear the pain in your voice, whether it was through injury or just disgruntled, he couldn't be sure. “Hey,” you said nervously. This was not how you wanted to see him for the first time since you’d broken up.

“I was just leaving,” he explained, reminding you the door had walloped you in the elbow and you rubbed it in recollection, a gentle thrum from its impact. He looked back over his shoulder. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said again. He so badly wanted to reach out and kiss your injury better. The injury he caused, and he loathed himself for it. “How bad I get you?” he asked softly, taking a step closer.

Before he got closer, you closed in on yourself and covered the sting in your elbow with a step or two. “It’s fine, Brad – Rooster. It’s no worries,” you reassured him, flippantly. Your body language told him everything he needed to know. He was flatlining.

He nodded slowly, saddened at how you recoiled from him. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

“Okay. Sorry, huh?”

“It’s fine really,” you said as a pretty young thing wandered out. She joined Bradley on his hip and you didn’t miss how her hand curved into his elbow and how his face changed, the guilt masking his handsome features. She looked back at you both expectedly.

“Ready to go, Rooster?” she asked as he paused, gauging your response. He knew his timing was about as bad as it could be.

And yep, it looked exactly as it looked.

“Yeah. I’ll be just a minute,” he said, the embarrassment etched all over his skin as he ripped out your heart and toyed with it in his beautiful hands before you. His ears reddened and he licked his lips as she wandered away, calling back over her shoulder when she’d reached his Bronco. Well, she knew his car, maybe this wasn’t as new as it looked.

Yep, it looked exactly as it looked.

You’d thank Natasha personally for the warning in a moment - she probably wouldn't like it though. “Friend of yours?” you figured trying to balance your tone. Who were you to get upset at him? To Bradley Bradshaw, you were no one and that was what hurt the most.

“Something like that,” he admitted quietly.

Maybe you didn’t need that drink Nat promised. You needed Penny to drown you in the top shelf. “Nat’s waiting for me,” you explained to him. “Have a good night, Rooster,” you told him as he reluctantly pulled the door open for you to scurry under his strong, golden arm and get lost in the Friday night throng. He watched after you until he lost you.

Rooster ran his clammy palm over his face, he felt ill as he stepped away from the door. He wanted to be sick, he knew exactly how pathetic he looked. Why the fuck didn’t Natasha tell him you were coming? He would have hauled ass ages ago and without incident. He pulled his phone out and threw a brutal one-liner at her about giving him a head’s up next time and made his way to his car, where his friend/date/hook up/whoever was waiting with a bright grin.

“Thought you were gonna ditch me,” she laughed lightly, he could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling too well right now, and I have a real early start tomorrow morning. Think we could take a rain check?” he asked, keeping a safe distance from her. She raised an eyebrow.

“You sure? Five minutes ago, you seemed really fucking into that blowjob in the bathroom,” she hissed at hime. And it was fine head, her lipstick was still smudged on his cock, he would always be appreciative of anyone giving him their best. But again, it wasn’t your pretty lips, nose desperately trying to nuzzle the soft hair at his happy trail, staring up at him like he possessed all the stars in the sky. God, he was truly beginning to hate himself and he missed your mouth, however smart it was, wrapped around his cock, giving him an earful... kissing him.

He shook his head dismally. “Look, I can’t do this, okay? M’sorry,” he unlocked the car, hopped into the driver’s seat and keyed the ignition, peeling out of the carpark to the allotment of insults and birds being hurled his way. It would be some time before he decided to venture back to The Hard Deck, which was probably best.

And deservingly so, he reminded himself. He'd take a few weeks off from the bar, he’d been through this before. Never go back to the scene of the crime, especially after one-night stands. He knew better, but it all seemed so easy tonight until you were before him and ruined everything.

He pulled into a car park, the ocean bustling before him and he sat for a moment, his palms latched onto the steering wheel, his knuckles white as the adrenaline of the night coursed through his veins. Taught and teetering, he stared out to the ocean, needing answers to all the questions in his messed up brain.

God, you looked so beautiful. You had done something different to your hair, not a lot, just subtle, but he noticed it, the scent of his favourite perfume, it was so ridiculously expensive but it was the only real fancy thing you afforded yourself even if you used it sparingly, that drifted off you and enveloped him. He remembered it on his pillows, it lasted for the week until the sheets were changed.

But your eyes… They told the story. Seeing each other was a shock to the system, but you just looked so upset when… fuck, whatever her name was made her presence known. Getting his phone from his pocket, he sighed and found your last texts to each other.

It was all so sweet.

You: I love you, big boy. Hurry home to me xxx

Bradley: Love you too. Lemme finish up and I’ll be right there x

He ignored the subsequent texts he tried to send that all bounced back. Now it all seemed like another world and another time.

“So, yeah, that was fun,” you told Natasha as she gave Penny the signal to keep lining the shots up.

“You okay, darlin’ heart?” Penny asked sadly. Not that she wanted to pry, but Live had asked her to keep an eye on you if and when she could and she didn’t know if your mother was really wanting to see how brokenhearted you were.

“I’m awful,” you confided, voice strong but powerful because if you didn’t talk about this, you’d sink into another one of those solitary states where you wallowed in the misery of your broken heart, you were going to explode. “I have ruined the best thing that has happened to me then I get to see him take a one-night stand home.”

In no world would Natasha tell you this wasn’t their first hook-up and tossed back one of the lined up shots to avoid putting her foot in her mouth. “He’s slipped back into old habits,” Natasha shuddered as the tequila burned. She wasn’t defending him, but it was what it was as Penny made some polite excuses to continue working. “He a fucking moron, all dudes are the same. Easy pussy, get their dicks wet. They should all be lobotomised," she raised her shot and you, Natasha and Penny whipped the shots back.

But Rooster Bradshaw owed you absolutely nothing. And he proved he knew it too.

“He talked to me like a stranger. He’s never spoken to me like that in thirty years.”

“What do you mean?”

“Has he said he’s missed me or anything?” you asked, sadly and as Natasha prepared to answer, you dismally added, “I’ve ruined everything because I was scared about all the wrong things. Nat, I’ve messed this up and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”

She nodded but she heard what she heard. “…do you want to fix it?”

“I can’t function without him. I am just bumbling along, missing him while he is recovering alone. He's about to stand trial... he needs support,” and you know fully well that Natasha, Penny, Mav and others had Bradley's back but you also knew there were only a few people he'd truly let help him. “Will you still be here for the trial?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be here… I’m a witness. It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“Can you tell me how it goes?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“I can’t believe I gave all this up.”

She nodded. “I hate seeing you hurting like this.” Both of you, she wanted to add.

“Does he talk about me?” you asked quietly.

Phoenix sighed, she didn’t want to get into this. Anything he’d ever told her was done so in confidentiality. And while you were her great friend, he was too. Rooster didn't have many confidants. "I - "

“Natasha. Does Bradley want to fix us?” you raised your eyes, and Natasha saw the tears that threatened to spill.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Only hours before he was talking about his latest conquest. She saw that woman follow him into the bathrooms but she had no idea where her friend stood, even if she knew you two were so much better together. She could tell you how angry about it he was. But there was no way that was going to help the situation even if she was desperate to say or do anything that could possibly help.

You shrugged and took another shot. “Whatever, he’s clearly moved on and I will just have to accept that. Another round?" you asked, a casual frown gracing your features and Natasha nodded.

"One more," she loaded the bar up and couldn’t imagine being in her plane tomorrow if this was how the night was going to go.

masterlist.

Big thanks as always to @gretagerwigsmuse for helping me get this fic over this line x

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years

Text

Title: If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Heavy Angst, Plot Heavy, LOTS OF WORDS, Heartbreak, Cursing,

Words: 9.1k

Summary: The fall out of Lewis’ actions is real, as is the freeze out. You’re fuming but brokenhearted. Not only do you feel like a fool, but you also feel used. Moving on is the only option, but Lewis doesn’t want to move on—or that’s what his actions say.

Note: Part 2 is here! The plot thickens.

Note II: Italicized text is a flashback/memory or someone’s words all from some time in the past.

As always, thank you all so much for reading. I truly appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous: If This Is Love, I Don’t Want It {1}

~~~~~~

“Listen to your gut about men. Your gut is never wrong.”

Your mother’s sage old advice echoed in your head. It had been one of the many lessons she’d voice recorded for you before her untimely death when you were just shy of your 18th birthday.

You’d always wondered what had motivated her to write letters and record videos for you dropping wise words, encouragement, mantras, sweet stories and other things of the sort. You often wondered if she knew she was not going to be around in the future.

Your soft cries turned into loud wails then. Raising the bottle of dark liquor to your lips, you chugged two mouthfuls then cried from the burn. It was just another added pain onto the others you carried. It had been two days since the events at Lewis’ house. Two days you’d locked yourself in one of your family’s vacation homes off the coast of Monaco. Two days you’d been surviving on dark liquor, chocolate, ice-cream and oxygen. Two days you hadn’t answered your phone or done anything else but cry.

As if the heavens sympathized with you, the weather for the last two days had been a dreary, rainy mess. It seemed like the perfect backdrop for you, so you often sat on the deck in the rain and just cried. No care for getting sick, no care for even your hair which you normally were super careful and protective of. Everything be dammed. None of it mattered.

Everything played in your mind over and over like a movie. It hadn’t felt real then, hell it still didn’t feel real now. You didn’t know how you’d gotten here. Everything had been going so well. For the last year and change his words matched his actions and efforts matched what you saw in his eyes. He was attentive, loving, thoughtful, giving, helpful, honest, devoted. He was perfect. It didn’t make any sense. None of this made sense.

Could you have imagined what you saw in his eyes? All this time could he have been lying? Was he really such a smooth player and liar to be so skilled to make lies shine through his eyes? Could he really have kept up a façade for over a year? For what? Sex? Your virginity? He didn’t even know you were a virgin.

You groaned, stood from the shower floor then turned off the water. While dripping wet, you walked to your robe then wrapped yourself in it. Ignoring anything else you walked back to your bedroom and laid down. The weather today was another shitter and again you didn’t care one bit. As you stared out the ceiling to floor window at nothing really your mind drifted away to thoughts trying to make sense of everything. your brain went left, right, up, down and around but still you couldn’t make any sense of it. As your eyelids grew heavier and heavier your brain moved on to the hurt and betrayal of it all. You’d believed, you’d tried, you’d been sold a dream and now it was proven to all be a lie.

The next time you opened your eyes, it was a lot harder. Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy as if you wore several pairs of lashes. That wasn’t the only thing odd, you couldn’t hear anything except warbled words, high pitched beeping and wind as if a vacuum were on beside you. Writhing, you felt hands everywhere, then something powerful held you down and you felt painful pinches in your arms and thighs. You opened your mouth to scream or shout “stop” but no sound came, your throat was dry and tight. Finally, you were able to open your eyes, but everything was blurry. It was as if you were seeing through them for the first time. It hurt, they felt raw as if someone had thrown sand in them, but it was forever embedded inside.

Then you heard your name being called but the voice was foreign. As soon as it all started it stopped. Now you heard and saw nothing—but darkness.

Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.

You snapped your eyes open and gasped gulping in air as quickly as you could. It felt as if you’d been deprived for days.

“Y/N!”

Big mistake you thought as quivered from the ache in your body that felt as if it were emulating from your very bones. Then your eyes immediately burned making you shut them again as your back dropped to a bed.

“Wh--,” you began but stopped once you recognized pain. You felt hoarse.

The only thought in your head was, what the hell had happened?

“It’s okay. Calm down,” your father’s voice advised as he placed his hands on your arms steadying you.

“I know you’re confused. it’s okay. Take slow breaths. I’m here.”

“Seriously, Jordan, you spoil her. If you coddle her like this, she’ll think she can pull stunts like this all the time,” came the shrill voice of the woman you hated most in this world.

“Coddle? Aleeza, she almost died,” your father clarified, exasperation clear in his tone.

“Da—da--,” you swallowed painfully hoping it would help then tried again. “Da--.”

“Here my love, some water.”

You felt the glass touch your bottom lip and you took a tentative sip. The first touch of the cold water over your taste buds woke you up making you feel even more like you’d crawled through the Kalahari Desert for a week. You took mouthful after mouthful until the glass was empty.

“That a girl,” your father encouraged while gently rubbing your back.

“Yes, she almost died because of her own negligence. Really, Y/N, disappearing for a rager and then drinking until blackout? How mature. I told you Jordan, she is nowhere ready to take on any responsibility with the club,” Aleeza blabbered on.

Though you were confused as shit, you were seconds from leaping out of the bed and giving her a Mortal Kombat finish her move. You hated this woman, and it was evident the feeling was mutual.

“Enough!”

Your father’s voice boomed around the room stopping any further comments from his 2nd wife. Through the thin slits of your burning eyes, you saw that she pouted at him but quickly shaped up seeing he was not going to be fooled.

“Either sit down and be quiet or you can wait for me in the hall.”

You didn’t have to look at Aleeza to know she was cowering. You heard her huff, but you didn’t hear her heels clinking out the room, so you assumed she sat.

“Sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

You cleared your throat then spoke, “Wha—What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

Shaking your head, you tried to open your eyes more to see him fully.

“I couldn’t reach you for 4 days. You were supposed to be back in London. I got worried. None of your friends had heard from you, no one had heard from you. I ended up having to have a friend of mine hack into your phone to get your location. When I got to the house you were unconscious, burning up, shivering with vomit on you.”

Bits and pieces finally came back to you.

“I brought you here. You had alcohol poisoning, a bronchial infection, and your anemia had been severely triggered. You don’t have enough red blood cells honey. I thought you were taking care of yourself. You know you shouldn’t be drinking excessively. Then come to find out you hadn’t taken your medication in days. Y/N.”

“Irresponsible.”

“Aleeza,” your father cautioned.

With your head down, you allowed the events leading up to today to play through your mind.

“I’m sorry dad.”

He sighed, pulled you into a hug and pat the back of your head like he used to when you were a kid. You melted into him and allowed your tears to fall.

“It’s okay. I—you scared the shit out of me Y/N. I thought I was going to lose you too. I can’t lose you, not after your mother.”

His voice was clouded with emotion and unshed tears. You knew how difficult losing your mother was for him. You could tell he still hadn’t recovered fully. Your eye caught Aleeza sitting a ways away. The look on her face brightly showed her disgust, annoyance and hatred. There was something else there too, something you couldn’t place. Was it smugness, happiness?

“They had to pump your stomach to get rid of the alcohol. They gave you iron transfusions and IV meds for the bronchial infection, and a blood transfusion” your father further informed lifting his arm to show his bandaged forearm.

That bad, you though as the guilt was swirling in you; “How long have I been here?”

“Two long days,” Aleeza piped up. “Plus, the day you were found. My, my, you should be careful the state you allow others to see you in. You neeever know who snapped a picture and what they’ll do with it.”

Both yours and your father’s eyes went to her.

“All I am saying is plenty of tabloid trash would love a picture of Y-F-N/ Y-L-N thee daughter of F1’s most prominent front runner,” Aleeza said. “It isn’t only your name you drag through the mud, Y/N, it is your father’s—mine.”

You narrowed your eyes, the hatred you felt for her was bubbling at the surface. You knew the woman was vile but for her to say this to you or your father spoke of how ballsy she really felt. They’d only been married for 4 years, and she thought she held the whole Y-L-N power in her hands. Before you could lurch for her and turn this hospital room into a celebrity deathmatch arena, your father sighed.

“Wait outside Aleeza.”

“But honey,” she whined dragging out the pet name.

“Now.”

Not liking his tone or that she couldn’t cutesy her way out of this she stomped then walked to the door. Once finally alone, you leaned back onto the bed and sighed. The woman was like dark matter, her leaving instantly relieved the tension in the room.

“I’m sorry for Aleeza. She’s going through a lot with the shareholders not voting her in.”

“She was the only one who thought they would vote her in,” you rasped.

“They did however unanimously vote in your favor to take the next steps. Congratulations to the club’s newest and first woman in senior management.”

You smiled hearing the confirmation that your hard work and effort had paid off.

“Congratulations honey. Next step shareholder. Toto better watch his back.”

You snorted then groaned feeling the pain in your chest and abdomen.

“It serves you right. They pumped 3 times the normal alcohol consumption for the average human from your system. What the hell?”

You sighed.

“What’s going on?”

You couldn’t tell him the truth. There was no way you could tell him that you’d been sleeping with Mercedes’ golden boy and major bread winner. Internal fraternization was frowned upon, hell it was practically in everyone’s contract and now that you’d been placed in senior management it could look really bad. No matter how much you hated Aleeza she was right. Your name was not yours alone. Your father had worked too long to accomplish all he had for you to fuck it up. Plus, if he found out the entirety of things you were sure he’d rip Lewis’ contract to shreds and kick his ass out of MB. You smiled thinking that, but the devious thought quickly passed. You were not that kind of person. He may have turned out to be a lying, selfish, self-centered asshole, but you were none of those things.

“Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

With your mother’s words in your head, you began; “I just got some unsatisfactory news about some investment choices I’d made outside of F1, and the family and I just felt like I’d been pushed back hundreds of steps. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to achieve the things I wanted,” you lied.

“Honey. What have I always told you? Investments are a game, 50/50. If it’s 50 in your favor great, if not then I’m here. Me and legal the team could have quickly and easily fixed it for you. This was not necessary. Was this a cry for help like Aleeza said?”

You disgustedly snorted. “No. Aleeza couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m fine now dad. I promise to never let this happen again.”

He studied you with his wrinkle rimmed all seeing eyes for several long moments. With each second that ticked by, you feared he’d seen right through you. Ever since your mother’s passing, he’d taken her place and was always there for you when you’d gotten your heart broken. He was ready with the ice cream, chocolate, and Brandy. He’d stay with you while you cried offering his lifetime’s worth of advice. If he’d been the one to find you then you knew he had to have seen the empty ice cream cartons and bottles of Brandy lying around amongst the chocolate wrappers. If he had seen them, he knew very well what you were dealing with.

A sad smile spread across his face. “All right, Y/N. I will take your word for it. Just know I am always your father first and foremost. I will always put you first and I’m always here for you.”

You nodded and kissed his cheek. If he knew he wasn’t saying anything, and you were grateful to him for that.

~~~~~~~

-3 Days Later-

“Oh my god, when we saw you were in the hospital from Daily Mail, we were so worried,” Francesca said with your hands clasped in hers.

“Aw, I’m sorry you had to hear about it from Daily Mail—eck! However, I am perfectly fine.”

You smiled hoping that she and all the other girls believed you. Currently, you were sitting in the conference room that you’d changed around to resemble a comfortable lounge. You’d replaced the oblong conference table and stifling office chairs with oversized bean bag chairs, comfortable designer couches and settees and other elements that gave the room a comfortable vibe.

“I’m relieved,” Monica, your assistant said.

“I’m thankful I have you as my right-hand woman and to have such thoughtful women around me.”

They all beamed at you then Monica stood and walked to the corner where she took out a bouquet of flowers and a galaxy printed gift bag.

“We all heard about your new title, and we wanted to say...”

They all jumped up from their seats and threw sparkled confetti at you and into the air.

“Congratulations!”

You laughed covering your eyes as the shock washed over you. The room that had been clean seconds ago was now covered in confetti.

“Wow, you guys. This is—wow, thank you.”

Monica held the flowers and the gift bag to you. Happily, you took the items and took a deep whiff of them.

“Mmm. Thank you guys. I appreciate the sentiment and I promise to be the best that I can for all of you.”

They pooled in and hugged you. With a warm heart you forgot about the stress of the last week or so. This was what you’d worked for, this was what mattered. Your ringing cell phone brought your attention to your purse off to the side.

“We have to go down to the garage. Are you coming?”

You looked back at Farrah then nodded; “Give me a second, let me get this and I’ll be right there.”

They walked to the door leaving you to dig your phone out of your purse. When you had, the caller ID had you pausing.

💘😘Lewis😍💘

Your heart immediately began beating out your chest. You stared at his ID and the movie that was your life over the last week or so played in your head at hyper speed. The extreme highs of being with him and being cared for by him, his words during your most intimate moments, his attention, his sex, then the extreme lows of his betrayal, his lies, his selfishness and the aftermath. Your anxiousness turned to anger then.

This wasn’t the first time he’d called. He’d called so many times since you’d woken in the hospital. Each call of course went unanswered, even ignored. You’d think he would have gotten the hint but no, he kept calling. You thought to put him on the block list, but you hadn’t. You couldn’t. For some reason it still felt wrong, and that fact pissed you off even more. How was it wrong when this was the least of what he deserved?

The ringing stopped, showing you’d missed his call, but even though you’d missed it, the aftereffects were still present. You cursed your damn body for its treachery and then chastised yourself for still caring and having it prevent you from blocking his ass.

“Y/N?”

You shook it off then walked out of the conference room with your purse in tow. As you got downstairs and began your walk to the garage your mind drifted yet again. It had been like this for the last few days. You couldn’t for the life of you keep your head in the game. The smallest things triggered a memory and that memory a slew of emotion and those emotions brought you back to present day and then you crashed—hard.

You didn’t even realize you’d arrived until you were surrounded by interviewers who were shouting your name trying to get your attention.

“Y/N, just a few questions.”

“Okay, sure.”

“We’ve heard the news of your new position. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Being the daughter of Jordan Y-L-N, did you immediately fall for the idea of working for Mercedes or did they have to woo you?”

You giggled; “No there was no wooing needed. All I’ve ever known is Mercedes, F1 and racing. Was there really any other career option for me?”

The reporters laughed all together as the cameras continued snapping.

“You definitely have a knack for fashion and beauty so there is always that.”

You struck a pose then fanned off the reporter. “Stop it.”

“What is the chain of command with your new role?”

“Uh, I’m still at the bottom of the food chain guys.”

They laughed again.

“We doubt that. You are the first woman to enter senior management with the organization. What a feat.”

“I am incredibly proud of that actually. To see some real change happening to become more inclusive is so monumental.”

“What do you bring to the Mercedes and F1 table?”

“A woman’s eye and my entire life of information being behind the scenes, a fan and up front. Needless to say, I’ve seen a lot and I’ve learned even more, and I believe I offer a creative and modern take on the sport and can bring this side of F1 to greater heights.”

The women you were now in charge of applauded behind you making you smile. They held so much faith in you and it was contagious.

“Thanks guys,” you said ready to walk away.

“One more, please, Y/N.”

“Okay. Last one.”

“Why do you think Mercedes offered you this role rather than someone more experienced and someone with more skin in the game? Someone who isn’t the daughter of the biggest name in Mercedes. Why you? And couldn’t you consider this nepotism that plenty of African American media users have called for so many of their white counterparts?”

You couldn’t believe what you’d heard. The old white man who’d asked the question didn’t look in the least bit ashamed or worried about the question. He looked proud. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to say to a reporter. For the first time you actually wanted to reach over and punch a reporter in the face.

You cleared your throat then stepped forward. That was when someone stepped in front of you. A body with a head full of braids you recognized.

“What kind of question is that? Mercedes chose her because she’s worked her ass off in and around the field learning, helping and wearing more hats than you could possibly imagine. Mercedes chose her for the role because there wasn’t anyone better, no one with more experience, no one with more skin in the game. She has the most as she’s been with this division since the very beginning when it was a formulated idea between Jordan Y-L-N and his late wife, her mother. Who better to take the helm than one of the founding visionaries. As for this being nepotism according to non-POCs, why does it matter what you think? A qualified woman given a position that she is qualified and skilled to do. Isn’t that what we call equal opportunity? Now an unqualified individual given a position that they are unqualified for and highly under skilled to complete thus relying on those who should have been given the position. Isn’t that the textbook definition of nepotism and isn’t that 90% of the nonblack workforce? Y/N more than has the talk to back up the walk. Do you need clarification?”

The interviewers all looked stunned, and their speechlessness showed just how thoroughly they’d been read. None of them continued. They just nodded and thanked him and moved on. When he turned to you, you knew you should have walked away but you were still standing there dumbstruck. Lewis stared at you, his face solemn, eyebrows knitted and a frown on his lips. From the circles under his eyes and the lack of luster to his skin you, could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. Probably fucking everything with legs, you said to yourself.

At that thought you clenched your jaw and shook your head. Turning, you began walking.

“Y/N, wait.”

As if it were instinct, you stopped. Go, you screamed in your head. Walk! No matter how much you screamed at yourself, your legs didn’t move.

“Can we talk?”

You reared back with eyes wide from his audacity. Lewis shrunk back, flinching as if you’d slapped him across the face. You wanted to so badly your palms itched for it.

“Please,” he softly added.

The anger bubbling inside of you finally took over. Instead of it making you irrational and shaky, it had the opposite effect. You felt calm. With one brow raised and poison in your eyes you tapped into your bitch side.

“You can talk to the crack of my ass!”

With that you walked away joining your team.

Over the next several days you wished you could have said he’d gotten the hint. He still called even when you put him on the block list. He’d use other means, Toto’s phone, the Mercedes office phones, his crew, other drivers. It was insane. You’d gotten to the point where you were screening calls by voicemail now.

Every time you broke and listened to one of his voicemails, they sounded more and more desperate. He never said anything of substance or even explained himself. He simply rambled about the past and asked how you were together. His behavior was so confusing it put you in a state of extreme anger and dangerous sadness. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but when you did you couldn’t get past feeling weak for trying to make excuses for him.

By the middle of the week, you’d managed to avoid Lewis, and anyone associated with him. Today you’d told your father you’d accompany him to one of the races and you were now walking around the paddock with other members of the crew inspecting the car and having small chats.

“Congratulations little Y-L-N,” came a voice you recognized.

Spinning around, you found Toto coming toward you. Smiling, you approached him and accepted his wide stretched arms for a hug.

“Thank you, big bad Wolff.”

He chuckled at your nickname for him. “I hear I should watch my back within the next year or two.”

“I didn’t say it but--,” you stretched making your father and Toto laugh.

“All right. Well, I welcome you to take my job because then I’ll be sure you deserve it. Come play with the big boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing.

“Are you here in senior management mode or are you a spectator?”

“A little bit of both I guess. I’m also my dad’s plus one.”

He nodded then looked back as someone called his name. Approaching your trio was Lewis. You released a heavy sigh then caught your father’s eyes on you. Doing your best to cover, you smiled brightly at him.

“Lewis, feeling good for the race?”

“Eh, I’m feeling all right.”

“Good. You remember Jordan Y-L-N and Y/N.”

Lewis reached out and shook your father’s hand. You noticed the tight hold your father took of him as he held him in place while slightly leaning forward.

“What kind of man are you, Lewis?”

“Uh--,” he began clearly confused by your father’s sudden inquiry.

“The kind of man someone is says a lot about the kind of driver he is. Are you a good, strong, loyal man who knows right from wrong and always protects those he values or a weak man who easily falls prey to pretty words and pretty faces? Are you the kind of man who a father would be proud to hand his pride and joy over to because he’s certain she’ll be cared for properly?”

Part of you was confused about what had gotten into him and why he was asking this while the other part of you wanted to pat him on the back and grab a cup of the tea because he was definitely getting his Wendy Williams on. They were damn good questions. You knew from experience he was the latter, but you’d let him tell it or lie. What man in their right mind would admit to being a fuckboi?

Your eyes, your father’s and Toto’s were on Lewis waiting for his answer.

“Em, I uh—the former, sir.”

You snorted louder than you’d intended and now three pairs of eyes were on you.

“Ehm, sorry, I saw something just over there with Charles.”

Your father smirked while Lewis grimaced.

“All right. Good to see you again Lewis. Good luck out there,” your father finished.

Lewis nodded, thanked him then looked at you. He must have been able to see the disdain in your eyes because the only vibe you got from him was a gloomy and depressing one. What the hell you thought. He’d gotten what he wanted. Why the hell would he be anything but overjoyed?

“Good luck Lewis,” Toto added.

He looked at you as if he expected you to say the same. You wouldn’t. You weren’t there yet. You wished him pain. Instead of saying that, you kept your lips sealed. When he realized you weren’t going to be a sheep led by the herd, he nodded then walked away back to his crew.

Twenty or so minutes later, the race was beginning. From behind the scenes, you watched as the lead fluctuated for the first several laps. By the time lap 40 came around, Lewis was in lead, and you couldn’t quell the part of you that was excited and proud of him. It had been so long programed in you that you hadn’t been able to turn it off yet. With effort, you stifled it and kept yourself in check.

Lap 55 brought different results, Charles took over the lead putting Lewis in second and now the spectators were split. Some cheering for Lewis, some for Charles. Looking around you could sense the angst in the air. Lewis’ team looked on edge as did Charles’. You found it interesting that 3 weeks ago you would also be on edge hoping for the best outcome for Lewis, but everything was different now. You’d seen his true colors, seen the man underneath the pleasant mask and unfortunate for you, you’d been disillusioned.

Biting your bottom lip, you checked your phone becoming bored with the race. Before you knew it, everyone was standing and cheering on their teams. Then you heard it, the end of the race. You looked up at the screen and saw the standings. Charles had taken P1 while Lewis was at P2. Again, you felt things a significant other would have felt, things you were not obligated or should have felt. It pissed you off more.

“Hm, interesting,” your father said.

“What?”

“He rarely loses.”

“He did seem off the last week,” Toto informed.

You shrugged trying to convince yourself you didn’t care.

When the cars rolled in, and everyone came in you saw the downtrodden look on Lewis’ face and you had to fight with ever fiber in your being against your instincts. You kept yourself planted right where you were and averted your eyes.

“Charles, the man of the day,” your father began, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir. Wow, I’m speechless you know who I am.”

“Of course. Anyone pulling stats like yours I make a business to know,” your father joked.

“Do you know Y/N?”

Charles’ eyes landed on you and a wide smile filled his face. He was adorable and you could see how he had the attention of so many fans.

“I do but glad to finally be up close and personal.”

Your eyebrow crooked at what sounded like a flirtatious line. Just behind Charles you saw Lewis watching though a sea of people surrounded him trying to get his thoughts.

“Well up close and personal we are. Good race, congratulations.”

You stepped in and hugged him while giving Lewis your daggered glare of death.

“Thanks. Wow, you have such a beautiful daughter Mr. Y-L-N.”

Your father chuckled. “Don’t I know it. It’s my curse. No matter how I try I can’t keep the boys from her yard.”

You snorted and teasingly slapped your father’s shoulder. “Ew, dad.”

Those around laughed as well.

“Well not all boys in her yard are bad.”

“Are you throwing yourself in her yard, son?”

Charles looked at you again and smiled. “I’d be honored to be there.”

You giggled and swatted at his chest playing up your flirtation. Lewis looked absolutely livid. Good you thought and hoped he understood he wasn’t the end of your world. There were indeed plenty of fish in the sea or in this pond.

Several hours later, you were finally walking to your car ready to go home from a long day. Your feet and face hurt from walking and smiling too much, and you couldn’t wait to wipe off all the makeup and kick off the heels. You sat in the driver’s seat with your feet outside the car then unbuckled your heels. after taking one off, you put it over your knee and massaged it sighing when you hit a particularly achy part.

“Ouch.”

Just then a memory hit you of Lewis massaging your feet on long days like this. He never missed a massage. Usually that massage led to other things like him nestling his head between your thighs to then lick, suck and slurp the stress of the day away. With that memory in your head, you dazed out reminiscing about all the good times. Things had been so good, so perfect. you felt the tears prick your eyes and before you could stop them, they rolled down your face.

“Damn it,” you said on a whine as you buried your face in your palms.

You couldn’t stop the cries that wracked your body. It was like you hadn’t shed any tears these last weeks when in fact you’d cried every day since finding Lewis exercising his right to be a man whore.

“Fuck. Stop it Y/N. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!”

No matter how many times you said it the tears kept coming. You didn’t know how long you sat there barefoot and weeping. It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You didn’t know nor cared.

“Y/N?”

You were crying so loud that you barely heard the voice.

“Y/N!”

Suddenly before you Lewis was dropped to his knees searching you.

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

His words were frantic, eyes wide and wild. It took a few moments to realize what was happening but instead of kicking him in his face, you made up your face and wailed even more.

“Get the fuck—the fuck—the fuck away!”

He didn’t.

“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”

“Y—y—you! Asshole!”

His hands slackened on your arms, and you saw him dip his head.

“I—I--,” he stuttered.

“Get away!”

He began getting up, but you pulled him back down. “Why? Why’d you do it?! How could you!”

You held him by his shirt like you were a gangster getting ready to pummel him. He didn’t fight you, so you released your fists in a fury of hits against his chest. No matter how hard you hit him he didn’t move, nor try to stop you. He just took it. Soon, your barrage of hits turned to you just pressing your forehead on his chest as you cried.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N. I--.”

You barely heard his words all you could focus on was the pain in your heart. Many long moments passed with the two of you like this, Lewis on his knees before you with your forehead on his chest. You hated it but he still felt like home to you. He still felt like yours. Those feelings angered you because you knew you were being stupid, pathetic and weak. You knew if he’d fucked you over once, he’d do it again and again. You weren’t blind to the games of the assholes in the world, but you couldn’t believe you’d fallen for one. You couldn’t believe you’d given one such a significant part of you and now you had nothing to show for it but the shattered pieces of your heart and clown face paint as souvenirs.

When your sobs slowed then finally dwindled down to sniffles, and your body stilled to only sudden sharp intakes of breath every so often your senses returned. The first thing you became aware of were Lewis’ arms wrapped around you holding you close to him. The second was the fact he was kneeling between your thighs, something that felt intimate in its own standing. The third was that his two-man bodyguard team were standing a few feet away with their backs turned. That jarred you so much that you immediately felt regret.

“Get off me!”

You shoved him off harder than you’d intended then wiped your tear-soaked face.

“Y/N--,” Lewis began.

“Shut up!”

Your voice echoed around the empty parking space. You were the only people around, but you didn’t put it past some pap to be hiding out trying to get a candid of F1’s golden boy.

“Let me explain.”

“Explain? You had your chance to explain. You chose to remain silent, and fuck lose pussy.”

“I didn’t fuck anyone!”

His voice was sharp and sudden as if he’d been enflamed to set the record straight all of a sudden. You narrowed your eyes at him and began moving trying to swing your legs inside your car. Lewis grabbed your thighs keeping you in place.

“I didn’t.”

“You’re a fucking liar Lewis! I was there. I saw it!”

“You saw what I wanted you to see.”

Your anger sparked then.

“What the fuck does that mean? You wanted me to see you fucking other bitches? You wanted me to see you for the asshole you are. Fine! Done! I see it! Let me the fuck go!”

He didn’t.

“I thought I could do this. I thought I could easily do this because it was to protect you, it was to keep you safe.”

“What! What’re you talking about?”

Lewis rubbed across his face. He looked haunted, exhausted, and broken. “If you’re this bad off to end up in the hospital and now this—fuck. I fucked up.”

You didn’t know what he was saying much less couldn’t understand anything. Nothing made sense.

“Y/N, listen—I—shit—okay listen.”

He continued to stutter as he tried to formulate a sentence but every time nothing came out. You sat there giving him time to get it together but realized your idiocy midway through. Groaning, you shoved him again.

“Get the fuck away. You’re full of shit!”

Managing to push him away this time, he fell backward. You swung your legs inside your car then reached for the door. Lewis put his hand on yours, stopping you.

“Wait, please.”

“Fuck you, Lewis. Fuck you and fuck this!”

You shook your hand free then slammed your car door. It took you seconds to start your engine and revved out of there like F1’s newest driving talent. As you sped away you looked in your rearview mirror at a still kneeling Lewis with his hands planted atop his head. Your heart broke seeing it but that only angered you more.

That night you struggled to get any sleep. You were in between states of hysterical crying and obsessive staring and stalking. You couldn’t make sense of anything, couldn’t understand his behavior. One minute he was telling you that all he wanted to do was live life in the fast lane and fuck around then he was holding you so tenderly and apologizing. You were getting mental whiplash from his change up and it infuriated you.

By the time the sun rose, you were still awake. As you were getting ready to shoot a message informing everyone of a personal day, you received a message telling you about a meeting at the company. You groaned knowing you did not have the energy to sit through a 2-hour meeting. You shot Toto a message telling him you’d have to pass blaming a medical appointment for the absence then decided to use the company gym to burn off some steam.

After you’d changed and had gotten in your car, you drove to the company barely aware of anything happening around you. All of it felt like muscle memory to you. The reason why it had, you realized once you’d parked your car, was because you hadn’t driven yourself to the company. You’d driven to Lewis’ London house instead.

“What the actual fuck, Y/N?”

You dropped your forehead on your steering wheel and groaned. Muscle memory indeed, you thought. You didn’t see his car on the street and thought maybe he wasn’t home. Deciding now would be a good time to clear your stuff out of his place you entered the code into the alarm system then drove in once the gates opened. After parking on what Lewis had distinguished as your parking area you closed the garage door then let yourself inside using the keys he’d given you.

This was another thing you couldn’t understand. If you were just a conquest and an easy target, why give you keys to his houses, why tell you the codes to security systems? You took off your sneakers and took them with you as you passed a large blown-up photo of the two of you hung right in the foyer. You stood stunned staring at it. You remembered this day. He’d shut down the top of the Empire State Building for a one-on-one date. Then after wining and dining you all night while whispering sweet words the entire time, he’d asked his guard to snap a few pictures. You remembered the words he’d whispered in your ear in this exact picture.

“You make me want forever.”

You closed your eyes feeling the tears. Willing them away you fought against your emotional side. You were tired of crying, tired of going around and around with this and him. It was time to end things, once and for all. You cut your eyes at the photo then hurried upstairs to his bedroom. The memories and his scent hit you like a ton of bricks when you walked in and again you fought it all. You couldn’t afford to get sucked back into the memories that were clearly a lie.

After finding one of your overnight bags in his walk-in closet, you began filling it with your things. It surprised you how much of your stuff was here. It wasn’t just clothes and toiletries. It was shoes, bags, make up, jewelry, hair things, work files, even gifts you planned on giving to friends. Sighing, you packed everything you’d came with while leaving anything he’d given you. They would only hurt to find later.

It took longer than you’d anticipated but after an hour you had three bags filled with your things. As you passed the photo again on your way out you paused to look around once more. Though it was just a few seconds, you knew you’d missed your window when you heard a car pull in.

“Shit.”

Hurrying, you dragged your bags behind the large bar then ducked down out of sight. The door opened and shut then you heard a heavy sigh.

“I thought she’d be at the meeting,” Lewis said.

“If you want to talk to her just call her,” one of his guards said.

“If she wanted to talk to me, she would have answered the other hundred times I called.”

“Then tell her the truth.”

Lewis sighed again. “How?”

His voice was close now. You guessed he was standing right at the bar. You made yourself smaller and hoped he didn’t come behind it.

“I’m sure when you start the words will come.”

The door opened again then you heard the voice of his friends. You’d spent a lot of time with his friends getting to know them. They were cool people.

“When are we clubbing,” Miles asked.

“Not in the mood,” Lewis said dismissing the idea.

“Come on. Just because your shorty left you doesn’t mean we all gotta suffer.”

“She ain’t leave him bruv, he made her leave,” Daniel clarified.

Your attention piqued. What did that mean?

“You still haven’t explained all that yet. What now?”

Suddenly, the bell rang, and everyone got quiet.

“For fuck’s sake. Really?”

Lewis sounded beyond upset, beyond fed up. A few moments of silence passed, and you were almost tempted to peep your head out to see what was happening. When he began speaking, you remained in your hiding spot.

“Y’all gotta hide. I don’t want her knowing you’re here and I’m sure it’ll be clear.”

You heard hurried footsteps.

“Nah, behind the bar,” Lewis said.

Your eyes bugged knowing you were going to be caught. Shit, you thought. It was Daniel who saw you first, his reaction was quick, simple widened eyes before he ducked down. Andrew saw you next and though he paused he didn’t comment until he was ducked down. Now Miles, when he saw you, he had to be the one.

“What the--.”

Daniel yanked him down before he could say much else though.

“We’re good,” Daniel said.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Getting my stuff,” you whispered back to Miles.

Their eyes dipped to the bags around you, then they nodded.

“What the fuck is going on?”

They all shrugged in unison.

“What’re you doing here?”

“There he is,” a feminine voice spoke.

Your spine stiffened. There’s no way. It couldn’t be, you thought. The clinking of heels was so loud, so distinctively her.

“What do you want Aleeza. Also, I don’t remember inviting you in.”

Your eyes widened. What the hell was your father’s evil trophy wife doing here?

“Trust me, you’re going to want to make sure no one else hears what I have to say.”

The door slammed and echoed throughout the first floor. When you looked over three pairs of eyes were on you as if waiting for you to explain. You shrugged. You had no idea why she was there.

“What more do you want? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I have nothing left to give.”

Aleeza laughed, it sounded like the wicked witch in Snow White’s cackle. The three men across from you shuddered all at once. You scoffed to yourself thinking if they only knew the half of it.

“Aww poor baby. Are you hurting? Get over it. she was nothing, less than nothing, an insignificant speck.”

“Why do you hate her so much?”

Were they talking about you?

Aleeza scoffed disgustedly, “Why do I hate the so-called perfect Y-F-N/Y-L-N? Pick a reason. Her father chose to marry her mother over me. He had the nerve to pick her over me saying he loved her and not me. It should have been me. It was supposed to be me! All anyone ever talked about was her stupid, perfect mother. Oh, Alisha is so pretty, she’s so kind, she’s so smart. My god just wanted them to shut up. So, I bided my time until the bitch died then I swooped in.”

You were so stunned right now you hadn’t moved an inch. Your eyes remained bugged and glued to one particular spot in the bar as you listened. Slowly, the pieces all fit together. You never knew why she didn’t like you, never even knew of the rivalry she’d had with your mother. You felt like you were an outsider looking in on an episode of F1’s WAGS (Wives and Girlfriends).

“I’ve hated her from the day I met her. Why would I love that bitch’s daughter. Then I realized she is just like her. All anyone can talk about is Y/N. She’s so beautiful, so kind, so smart, so skilled. Uuuugh!”

A loud crash of something breaking had all four of you jumping out of your skin. As if this were campfire horror stories, the four of you grabbed hands. This shit could go south at any moment.

“Then I saw you and I wanted you.”

Lewis let out a disgusted huff.

“The plan was to seduce you slowly or use a little force to get you into my bed and ya’ know.”

The four of you now made up your faces as if you were going to be sick. Hearing all this, you actually might get sick very soon.

“Then I saw how you were with that bitch. I don’t know how anyone else didn’t notice. I put two and two together and realized you were fucking the slut. Just like her whore of a mother, taking what was mine!”

Another crash of shattering glass filled the room.

“So, I had the perfect way to give that little slut what she deserved, what her mother should have gotten. That’s why I got the idea to have you do my dirty work. I mean I already had the goods on you. If Jordan found out you were fucking his precious daughter born of true loves kiss from his soulmate, you’d be out of Mercedes quicker than you can say 103 first place standings. They wouldn’t have mattered.”

“So that’s why you made me do what I did,” Lewis said sort of in disbelief.

Aleeza cackled again and again the fellas shuddered.

“Made you? Lewis come on. All I said was either end things brutally by breaking and shattering her heart so she’d never recover, or I’d tell daddy dearest,” Aleeza said.

Your eyes widened even more. She was blackmailing him.

“Of course, you being you and so damn delicious, manly and sexy was ready to throw your hard-earned career to the side come what may just for that little slut. I can’t believe you were willing to have me tell her father and have him rip up your contract rather than break her heart.”

She laughed maniacally and you swore outside got as dark as midnight though it was probably only noon. Across from you, Miles had a panicked look on his face, and he was mouthing; “what the fuck” over and over.

“I could never do that to her.”

“Yet you did. Tell me was it only because I said she’d end up in another unfortunate accident like her car accident a few months ago?”

A disturbing thought filled you. Was Aleeza behind your car accident? The police deemed it a drunk driver who’d ran out of the car to avoid being caught but could it have been a hired goon who had been paid to plow into you as you stood outside the Gala that night waiting for Lewis to bring his car around? Goosebumps peppered your flesh as so many emotions coursed through you.

“Was it you?”

As if he’d heard your thoughts, Lewis asked what you wanted to know.

“Me?”

“Were you behind the accident then?”

A long silence filled the room as you anxiously waited for her answer. You were ready to leap over the bar and beat it out of her. Thankfully she spoke.

“If only that idiot hadn’t fucked up the first accident. She’d be long gone by now and I would be the sole inheritor to Jordan’s estate when he dies. So, this plan worked well too. Anyway, it was you who decided how to break her heart. You made that choice all by yourself and might I add what an incredible choice it was. My, my when you go you go all out.”

She cackled some more.

“After everything we’d been through there was no way she’d believe anything else.”

He sounded dejected and heartbroken.

“And believe you she did. That show was incredible. I was just—”

She slow clapped for him, and each heavy-handed clap echoed sounding more and more like the annoying clash cymbals.

“Watching it I couldn’t believe it. Then when she revealed that you’d taken her virginity, holy hell what a fucking plot twist! The little slut really wasn’t a slut but a total prude.”

She cackled some more, and the fellas looked sympathetically to you. You didn’t know what the hell to say at this point. This was too much.

“Bravo. You did more than a job well done. Shattered her heart, broke her faith in men and stole her virginity.”

“Where in your plan did you figure you’d get me in your bed after this?”

Another long silence.

“I mean after you’d pulled off all of these disgusting things revealing your true face. Why would I ever sleep with you?”

“You’ve slept with far worse.”

He scoffed.

“Then I can still blackmail you with your deflowering of your boss’ innocent daughter oh and your falling out which put her in the hospital. Either you give me what I want, or you would have done all this for nothing, broken her heart, and lost your career.”

Her heels clinked again a few times. She wasn’t walking away she was getting closer to him.

“Come on Lewis, it’s easy. All I want is that part of you that you’ve given to soooo many before Y/N.”

“Dick. You did all of this for dick.”

“Your dick and to ruin that little bitch. Do I have to ruin you too? Why not keep the one thing you have left.”

“I can tell Y/N.”

She laughed again. “Like she’d believe that incredulous story of me making you sleep with other girls. Hell like she’d speak to you. I’ve seen the freeze out. Yikes, it’s almost like you broke her heart.”

“You’re evil, pure evil.”

“Watch it, Lewis. Your career and future are in my hands, or should I say my pussy. Please it and you will find salvation.”

She chuckled. “You have 2 days. Buh-bye.”

The annoying sound of her stupid heels clinked across the floor until they faded with the close of a door. No one moved for several moments. You didn’t think you could. Suddenly Miles sprang up.

“What the Five Nights at Freddy’s fucking hell was that shit?!”

Slowly, Andrew then Daniel stood as well. You could hear Miles carrying on, but you didn’t hear the words out of his mouth. You were too lost in your thoughts, too lost replaying all of that and trying to let it digest. You went over the entire thing in your head. You were so lost in your thoughts that you’d tuned everything out.

When you saw Daniel come back over and stand in front of you, it barely registered. He stooped and held his hand out for you. Slowly, you pulled some of yourself together enough to acknowledge him there. When you took his hand, he stood leading you up.

It took a few moments but when Lewis saw you from across the room, he bolted to his feet. His eyes were wide as he crossed the room eyes never leaving you.

“Y/N?”

You stepped back though you were separated by the bar top. Lewis stopped.

“Wha—what are you doing here? How’d you get in? Did—did you hear that?”

He looked over to Daniel then back to you. A few moments later, he came around to you bucking his feet on your bags. You watched as the realization washed over him.

“You—you didn’t come for me. You came to pack your things.”

He sounded so hopeless, so hurt. Now more than ever you wanted to go to him, but you couldn’t move. What the fuck was real and what wasn’t? You were struggling to wrap your head around any of this.

“What the fuck!”

It was all you could say. Though there were plenty of words to say in your head, those were the only ones that made it through your lips. You could feel yourself beginning to panic. It was something you’d thought you worked through after the accident. You’d gone to therapy and everything to get over the panic and anxiety nearly being run over had caused. Now here it was again.

Your airways tightened and soon the struggle wasn’t to wrap your head around this soap opera, it was to breathe. The less air you could get, the more you panicked. Soon you were surrounded by Lewis and his friends, each dictating to you how to breathe with panicked serial killer eyes or telling you to calm down as they were clearly not calm or straight up panicking along with you.

The last thought you had was you were going to die surrounded by the four stooges. Then everything faded to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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clubdionysus · 3 months

Text

[BAD DECISION #49] Stooping

warnings: a wedding! how delightful! koo in a suit! delicious! our starluvrs subtly matching!! yummy! what an apt time for romance!! hayun >:( a wedding is no place to argue!! and yet..... lol. discussions of noses!! pda??? what is happening?!

notes: just one tonight bc tomorrow you get a lurveeely lil bunch of chapters <3

wc: 10K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk has always been gentle: with you, with your feelings, with your body. This morning, he seems even more so, almost like he's cautious.

In all reality, it's just gone six in the morning, and he knows he's waking you before you're fully rested. Feels bad. Is why he's brewing coffee in a French press in the kitchen, ready to wake you up a little.

Quiet as can be, he's letting you hold onto those final moments – but when he glances over to his room, and finds you wrapped up in his duvet, leant against the doorframe, he knows he's failed.

"Sorry," he whispers. Offers a small smile that you reciprocate, eyes all blurry, face a little puffy. "Did I wake you?"

Shaking your head, you lie. "Think I'm just nervous about today."

"Why?" He grins as he begins to pour the coffee into iced cups – not quite your usual americano, but the closest he can get without leaving his apartment. Isn't dressed for it. Left his shirt in his room, along with everything else except for the Calvin's keeping him decent, and the glitter of yours dappled all over his skin. "It's not like you're the one getting married."

There's a sweetness to his voice, with no annoyance in his posture nor expression when you dump the duvet on the floor. The shirt he'd left in his room is now on your body, and Jeongguk marvels at the sight of you. Hair a little lopsided, your glitter is smudged all over your cheeks, making him smile. He'd picked you up after a shower yesterday, yet you're still covered in it.

"I don't know," you shrug, hopping up on one of the barstools opposite him. "Big day, isn't it?"

A cowlick of hair sticks up from his head, making him look like the sweetest sprout ever known. Cheeks full, his face is a little puffy, too. You both need water far more than you need coffee.

"How so?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.

"'Cause nobody knows you're obsessed with me yet."

Jeongguk's pretty sure they've known for months, now.

"More like you're obsessed with me."

"No," you hum, sitting up a little straighter. "To become obsessed is to lose yourself, and I am not a loser."

"Yeah, you are."

"Am not," you protest, but there's a tranquil smile on your lips.

It's impossible to lose with Jeongguk, you think. Impossible to have him and not consider it a win. A monumental win, at that. A win for yourself. For your heart. Against Hayun, too, but you're trying not to think about her.

Her message sits delivered in your otherwise unused chat feet. Part of you feels like Nabi had encouraged her to send it for the sake of Seoyeon, and while you don't want to be difficult, you also don't feel like peace needs to be made.

See, peace would indicate harmony. No ill feelings – but you know damn well if you have to greet Hayun with anything more than a smile and simple hello, you'll feel like an imposter in your own skin.

Small talk is reserved for the people you care about, not those who destroy people you care about. Doesn't matter how things currently stand. She was awful to your favourite person in the whole entire world. How she treated him just makes no sense to you in any way, shape, or form. He was born to be adored, you think.

You're no saint, and you've had your fair share of disagreements with Jeongguk, but all your arguments have been fundamentally human. Issues borne of miscommunications, or hurt feelings. Unintentional upsets.

What she put him through was cruel. Inhumane.

So no, you won't give her the time of day, and if anyone suggests you do, you'll simply smile and move the conversation along.

Jeongguk's nattering on about the wedding – how he's not sure how to do his hair, so you tell him that he should wear it pushed back.

"You think?" He contemplates, pulling at a strand just above his eyes. Tries his hardest to look up at it.

"Yeah," you nod, knowing that he's not really asking, as such. He wants to be told what to do. Doesn't want to make the decision himself, 'cause he's already a little anxious about the responsibility bestowed upon him as the ring bearer. "You always look really nice with it pushed back."

With a slightly bashful smile, Jeongguk nods. "Okay. Let's go get ready, B."

As Jeongguk's tyres crunch to a halt on the gravel of the driveway, you're a little bit blown away by the grounds of the venue you're in.

A chapel wedding never would have been Yoongi's taste. It's not his style. Likes tradition, hates establishments. He'd found a kindred spirit in Seoyeon; a love for the less than typical. A desire to do things a little bit differently.

A string of Joseon-style Hanok houses sits in acres of sprawling countryside. Though they're obviously newly built, the style is so perfectly in keeping with traditional architecture that you wouldn't be surprised to see the scene in a historical drama.

The oak timbers are varnished, but unpainted; golden beneath the mid-morning sunshine. Lush grasses and shrubbery paint the landscape in the most beautiful hues of green, with dragonflies flittering around in the long spikes. There's a pond nearby, you're certain.

"This place is gorgeous," you say quietly, amazed you haven't ever come across it before – but why would you? Marriage has hardly been near the top of your to-do list, and checking out wedding venues for sport was abandoned the first time Seokjin cheated on you. It hasn't been indulged in since then.

Something about being here, Jeongguk beside you, makes you curious. Maybe there are new places that have opened up.

Seokjin had always been keen on a church wedding whenever you spoke about hypotheticals.

You've never wanted a church wedding.

You wonder what Jeongguk would want; if he'd even want one at all.

"It sure is something," he agrees, as he twists his keys off in the ignition but makes no attempt to get out of the car. "This is just where we're sleeping. There's a pagoda a little further along where the ceremony is happening."

You nod, unsurprised. These are just little dwellings, no matter how beautiful they are. You're sure the pagoda will be far more befitting of a wedding ceremony.

Silence fills the car as the radio cuts out, Jeongguk pulling the keys from the ignition. Neither of you care to fill the space. You're too fixated on the view in front of you.

Jeongguk's distracted too, but not by the view, no matter how pretty it may be.

A hundred and one thoughts run through his mind, but the one he can't seem to shake is how on earth he's gonna survive the day in a state of 'just friends' with you.

Of course, he'll be able to do it. Has done it for months – but fuck, all he wants to do in your presence is hold your hand. Steal kisses. Do things no one would question, if they knew you were together.

But you're still, on a technicality, not.

He's supposed to be sharing a room with Jimin tonight. When the place had been booked, it still hadn't been decided if you'd be sharing with Danbi, but as the months passed, it was blatantly obvious she'd be sharing with Tae.

But Tae was supposed to be with Namjoon, which left two options: either you or Namjoon should stay with Hoseok. At the time, the sensible choice was you should room with Hoseok. That's how the plans had transpired, and are the intended sleeping arrangements for the evening.

And it's been driving Jeongguk mad.

He likes Hoseok. Likes him a lot. Doesn't know him well enough to know that he's mildly repulsed by the idea of ever being intimate with you, because unlike Jeongguk, his boundaries as a friend stop short of sexual attraction. Like a normal friendship should.

He'd rather you weren't rooming with Hoseok, but he's hardly gonna cause an issue out of it.

What he is gonna do, however, is have periodic tantrums about it throughout the day's events. Nothing super obvious. Just a slight pout of his lips, or a furrow of his brows when he thinks about it occasionally.

Much like he is now, when you ask, "Do you know which room is assigned to who?"

"Names are on the doors," he simply says, knowing that's how Seoyeon intended to arrange it.

He thinks he's subtle in his mard. Thinks you're none the wiser. Believes he's good at hiding how he feels about it all.

Or at least he does, until you start laughing, "It's one night, Gguk. You can survive without me for a night."

"No, I don't actually think I can," he replies without missing a beat, decidedly needy in his lack of denial. "In fact, I think I might-"

"You're not gonna die," you smile, reaching across for his hand. He doesn't resist as you pull his knuckles to your lips, pressing a pretty little kiss upon them, then lowering them to your lap. Your clasp is warm. Welcome. Just like home. "It's just a night-"

"Just a night," he echoes, before arguing against you. "Just a night where you're gonna look all fancy and nice and I'm gonna have to know another man is taking you to bed-"

"He's not taking me to bed!"

"Well, then he's a fool."

"Shut up," you laugh, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "Hey, look at me." He doesn't. "Gguk, please."

As much as he wants to stay stroppy, he just can't say no to you. Glances in your direction. Finds his tense posture easing as he takes you in. Chocolate brown, his eyes are so dark you half think they'll swallow you up entirely.

"What?" he pouts.

"You'll survive the night," you assure him. "And Hobes has, like, the biggest crush on Joon."

This is not news to Jeongguk. He has eyes, and has spent time in the presence of them both. Is pretty sure that the crush is mutual. In fact, he's sure of it. Has never known Namjoon with a crush, but he's pretty sure that the way he gets a little tongue-tied around Hoseok is prime example of what it would look like.

"Well then why don't they share?" Jeongguk frowns. He really is petulant when he wants to be.

"'Cause they're normal," you grin. "They have a crush, and they're still pussy-footing around it. They're not like us."

His frown intensifies. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The birds," you simply state. "Gguk, we were combating intimacy from the get-go. Breaking down barriers. Hobes and Joon will be taking things at a normal pace. If they're into each other, sharing a room will be a big step."

Foolishly, you didn't think Jeongguk's frown could get any deeper.

It does.

It's not because he disagrees with you, not at all. It's just that he wonders if you've fucked it; if you've ruined the sanctity of the early stages of a relationship. You'll never get those special 'firsts' with him. Never have those giggly, girly debriefs with Danbi after sleeping over Jeongguk's for the first time. Won't remember the date of your first kiss (even if it was the early hours of New Years Day, and impossible for you to ever forget).

He knows that staying in the same room isn't a big deal for you two. Knows that sharing a bed is like breathing at this point. Loves the comfort that comes with being with you. Hates that perhaps you don't get that wave of excitement from it because of it being so familiar.

And so he nods. Accepts your words, and decides that maybe sleeping apart will be good for you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.

"You're right," he relents. Eases his frown lines as his head tilts back against the headrest. Lazily looking over at you, he squeezes your hand, now. Whispers, "I'll miss you."

He'd probably feel a lot better about it all if he knew that such a simple statement did, in fact, get butterflies swarming in your stomach. There's a sparkle in your eye as you whisper back, "I'll miss you too, Koo."

He grins now. With heavily-lidded eyes and a smirk that screams fuck me, he husks, "Don't call me that, B. You know what it does to me."

"Do I?" You banter back. Flutter your lashes like the dragonflies dancing outside Jeongguk's car. "What does it do, Koo?"

"B," he warns with a smile. "Don't."

"Don't what?" The hand of his that's being held in your lap is lifted. Repositioned; palm opened, then closed down on your chest. Encouraged to squeeze. Held in place by your own hand. He groans. Lets you dictate his movements – of which you very much do.

"Byeol," he whispers, now. "You'll kill me."

"I give you a reason to live," you flirt, because seeing him like this always gets you a little bolder. "No one else is gonna be here for another hour, yet."

"So?"

"So I know you cum in like 5 seconds flat-"

"Not true."

"-whenever you're touching with my tits."

"We-" he pulls his hand from your grasp and places your hands in your lap. Holds them there. "-Are on a shagging ban."

"But it's a special occasion."

Realistically, you're not vying for a shag. In fact, you'd be quite surprised if you were to end up in bed with Jeongguk at all, today. You're just teasing him. Winding him up because you can. Because you want to. Because it's important that he knows just how much you enjoy him in all capacities.

"You're a menace," he tells you. "A randy little gremlin."

"You love it," you tell him, voice playful.

He doesn't respond. Just gives you a look, that you interpret to mean, of course I fuckin' do.

"C'mon," he eventually sighs, regretful of the fact he has to spend time with people other than you. "Let's get our bags sorted, then you can get ready. I'll go find Yoongs."

There's an effortless nature to the way Jeongguk takes the lead; how diligent he is at getting from A to B. You know it's thanks to his job, and his studies, and the way he's gonna spend the rest of his career organising people and events, but something about it makes your tummy feel all fuzzy.

He's as dependable as the changing seasons; guaranteed. Competent, in the way he takes command of situations. It's not a trait you ever realised you valued until you met him. Had always been the driving force in your relationships. The one with the get-up-and-go attitude. It's nice to let your brain rest when you're with him.

You know his brain is probably going a mile a minute, but you also know that he somehow prefers to live like that.

And while it's true – he needs to be kept busy to keep himself from going insane – he does revel in the way you make him forget his stuggles. Nothing is ever too much trouble when you're within touching distance of him.

By the time you meet him at the rear of his car, Jeongguk has already swung his rucksack over his shoulder and is reaching for your mini-suitcase. Taps your hand away as you try to intercept. Nods towards the garment bags on the backseat, instead.

"Can you grab them?" He asks, voice soft, his lack of verbalised 'please' made up for with his puppy dog eyes.

"Sure."

He would have gotten them himself, but he knows you'd have insisted on doing something. This way, he does the heavy living, and you don't complain. A win-win.

Chatter comes naturally between you both as you make your way up the wavy stone path to the hanok. Set in a horseshoe formation, there's a small water feature in the centre, trickling ever so peacefully.

You're looking at your feet, avoiding the cracks, when you accidentally walk straight into Jeongguk.

"Steady on," he smirks, glancing over his shoulder.

"You don't stop in the middle of the road! Basic highway code," you tell him, certain that it's a universal rule of all roads.

"Okay firstly, this isn't a road-"

"The Romans would disagree."

"The Romans didn't know shit about Korea," Jeongguk laughs. While you know he's correct, you're a little curious as to what other trinkets of knowledge he's got hidden up inside that brain of his. He doesn't strike you as a history buff, but he also didn't strike you as a chess player, either. "But secondly, I was trying to figure something out."

Coming to stand beside him, you follow his line of vision. Tilt your head. Realise exactly what he's looking at: Your names, on the doors of the rooms next to one another. Close, but not close enough for his liking.

"Could always just switch them," he suggests. "Be together."

"Together?" You chirp, as if it's a foreign concept. Play up the idea that maybe it is. "Why would we be together?"

Jeongguk looks down towards you. Smiles. Gives you no verbal response, but you don't really need him to. Is so curiously smitten with your need to downplay how much you mean to one another. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, then heads towards the designated room. Calls back, "So are we still pretending like we're not together?"

"We aren't together," you assure him, smile as wide as the sky is blue. "You haven't asked me yet."

Turning as he reaches the door, his smile makes his lip ring do the thing . "It's a group activity, B. You could always ask me."

He's got a point. You're just as responsible as he is. It's sort of like you're both playing a game of chicken; edging one another closer and closer to the point of no return. Truth be told, in some sadistic, twisted kinda way, you enjoy this back and forth. The certain uncertainty.

It's an inevitable fact of life, at this point. You will be official - but you're both secure in that knowledge and enjoy toying in this slight state of limbo. Makes it fun. Exciting. Dangerous, yet entirely safe.

"Anyway," Jeongguk derails the conversation. Pops your bags by the door of your room, and leaves his door ajar for you to put his suit inside. Pats his pocket to make sure the ring boxes are still there. They are. "You get yourself ready. I'm gonna head over to where Yoongi's staying. Check in with him, make sure everything's okay."

"How far away is it?" You ask, really not knowing much about the site.

"Ten minute walk," Jeongguk says. "Two minute drive, if that. Follow the road we came in on round a little further, and there's another hanok like this, which is where their families are staying," he explains. "The ceremony pavilion is a little beyond that, by the pond, and I'm pretty sure it's where the reception is, too. Can't tell you where the wedding suite is, 'cause I haven't asked, but like... I don't think any of us need to know."

You nod, and let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Families and close friends have a place to stay by the reception, but other guests will be staying in the neighbouring village. The sprawling countryside is gorgeous, and lends itself perfectly to the tranquillity of a wedding, but the location is a bit of a pain in the arse to get to. Takes a little commitment. Is perfectly apt for a celebration of Seoyeon and Yoongi's courtship.

Jeongguk leaves you to get ready, but only after he's made sure to kiss you half a dozen times. Knows he won't get the luxury later, so makes the most of it while he still can. Smiles as his lips press down into yours. Giggles, 'cause he can't articulate the way he feels. Tells you to fuck off when you smile at him as he walks away. Walks backwards so that he doesn't have to stop looking at you. Shakes his head, grin as bright as a burning star when you tell him to fuck off, himself.

He thinks about saying he loves you.

Bites down on his bottom lip instead. Presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers and sends it your way as he finally turns around. Leaves you with an aching heart. It's so full that it's weighing down on your ribs in a way you're not used to - and yet you'll take the strain. Like it, even. Never want to lose it.

The rest of your friends slowly begin to trickle in. All arriving within the hour, they're early, too. Are excited for the celebrations.

The room you and Hoseok are in is as you'd expected: pale walls, natural wood, floor mats instead of beds. Traditional internally, just like it is externally, there are no big frills or grand statements.

And there needn't be, for Hoseoks personality fills it with such warmth and colour that it's all you need.

"Oh," he grits his teeth when he sees the dress that you're wearing. "You need to get changed. We can't wear the same dress."

Rolling your eyes, you swat him out of the way of the mirror. He's already in the fitted suit he's wearing, though if anyone else could pull this dress off, then it's Hoseok.

Simple in its structure, the satin sage green dress hits the floor perfectly in line with your heels. A split runs up to your thigh, but it's mostly obscured. The cowl neckline paired with dainty bows on the tops of your shoulders makes it the perfect understated wedding guest dress - pretty, but not asking for too much attention.

A second dress remains in the garment bag, far flashier - sparkly - but upon seeing the location, you want to remain stripped back. Glitter still prevails on your skin like it always does, and your eyes rival the disco balls that you know will be present at the reception, but you have a feeling you'll look a lot more cohesive in photos like this.

After all, this is Seoyeon's day, and she has very specific colours in mind, so you know it must be important. Both dresses got her approval when you'd asked last week, but it's a head vs. heart decision. You'll save the sparkly one for another time.

"Y'know, you clean up well, Hobes," you tell your friend as you smooth the front of your dress down.

"You say that like it's a surprise."

Glancing to meet his cheeky smile in the mirror, you're quietly pleased to have him here with you. Despite how much you genuinely enjoy the company of everyone here (well, nearly everyone), without Danbi and Hoseok, parties are never as much fun. They're your people, you think. Always will be.

But when you think of it, so are the rest of them.

Perhaps none more so than the boy knocking at your door ten minutes before you're supposed to head up towards the ceremony.

"I was just about to head out," Hoseok subtly smiles, realising who it must be. "See you in a bit."

You bid him farewell, then refocus on the mirror in a feeble attempt to look unaffected by Jeongguk's presence as Hoseok welcomes him in. Left alone, Jeongguk tucks inside the door. Shuts it, but doesn't lock it. Just leans against it with his suited shoulder. Wants to break the silence, but struggles to find the words.

There's a silence to the room as he drinks you in; the way the satin of your dress rests against a body he knows better than his own at this point. No words can convey the 90's television static that's sounding in his head right now. Nothing could articulate the way it feels like his heart is melting like butter beneath his ribs; how he feels like he might just die from the sight of you alone.

Turning to face him, you're still preening yourself, obviously a little unsure. Ask, "Watcha think?"

If Jeongguk could think straight, he'd say you're the most gorgeous woman alive.

But he can't, 'cause he's utterly consumed. Says instead, "You'll get told off."

"Told off?" you frown, then worry that someone else is wearing the same dress.

He nods, unaware of your thought process. "The bride is supposed to be the prettiest person at a wedding."

Something about compliments like this from Jeongguk - a little mindless, and feral in his own, sweet way - makes your tummy feel all funny. There's not enough room in the bodice for butterflies, so you roll your eyes. Try to remain composed.

"She is going to be the prettiest person at the wedding," you assure him, then hold your hands out for him to join you in the middle of the room. It takes a second, but he eventually complies. Of course he does. Will do anything you ask of him.

The light brown of his tweed suit looks almost grey. Lends itself perfectly to accents of deep teal and sage alike. Was a strategic choice. Didn't know what colour you'd be wearing, but knew he wanted to look good beside you.

He's without a tie - you knew he would be, thanks to what little he did share with you about his outfit choice - and a few of his upper buttons are loose. The silver of his usual chain sits prettily on his collar bones, hair pushed back, just like you told him to style it.

Hands in yours, Jeongguk takes in the sight of you. Is so pleased to see the dainty silver bird when it usually is.

"You look great," you tell him, 'cause it's important he knows. You never would have chosen the colour of suit he's gone for, but it looks absolutely divine on him. In fact, you're quite pleased you left him to his own styling devices. Rarely ever think his outfit choices are rogue, so you're really not surprised - but you did bring something for him just in case.

Pulling away from his grasp, you reach into the garment bag, and slip a small offcut of fabric from the bottom of your dress that had been saved when you'd have alternations made. Sewn perfectly into the shape of a pocket square, you say nothing as you pull out the white fabric in his breast pocket.

Without interruption, Jeongguk lets you. Watches your hands as you neatly arrange the pocket square. Likes the way the fabric compliments his suit. Loves it, in fact. Would love it even more if he noticed the tiny embroidered star on the material that you've hidden towards the bottom of his pocket. Matching the fabric's colour, the thread is so subtle that you have to know it's there to clock it. A secret declaration: I'm yours.

"Green suits you," Jeongguk eventually says. Gently pushes your hair back over your shoulders. Cups your jaw. Kisses you just as softly as he compliments you.

"Suits you, too," you tell him right back.

"Ready to pretend like we aren't dating for a few hours?" He smirks, knowing you'll find this just as hard as he is.

There's something about his phrasing - the acknowledgement that you are dating - that has you shaking your head. Smiling, like the cat who got the cream. "Not in the slightest."

And there really is no need. Everyone knows. The only people you're deluding are yourselves.

But as you give yourselves one final glance in the mirror, and Jeongguk slaps your ass before he leaves, you're quite content in this denial. Like the bubble that you're living in. Don't want it to burst. Not yet.

You're relieved as you join your group of friends by the water feature, finally seeing what everyone's wearing. It's the reason you had two outfits. Was afraid to clash.

Danbi is in teal - a strapless, figure-hugging number that looks outrageously good on her.

Like you, Nabi is in sage. A little darker in its tone, her dress is far more structured, finishing midway down her calves. You'd be forgiven for thinking she belonged on a runway; enviably tall and impossibly beautiful.

Hayun is the last to join the group, uncharacteristically smiley. Unlike the rest of you, she's opted for a well-tailored pantsuit situation. Deep teal, she looks just as good as she always does, red lips accenting her choice perfectly. One thing is for certain: the photos of everyone together are going to look great.

The men are in classic suits, with little variation. Jeongguk's is the most adventurous by far, and it makes you a little sad you hadn't done anything 'extra'. Kind of resent the fact Hayun's chosen something unique, but have to remind yourself it isn't a competition.

Walking down the twisty gravel road to the pavilion, arm linked with Danbi's, there's a whimsical feel in the air. Giddy happiness. You get to witness true love do its thing right in front of your very eyes, and that is a blessing, you decide.

As you turn the corner, there's a collective silence.

Brilliantly beautiful, the ancient-style pavilion is breathtaking against the backdrop of lush spring mountains. Though cherry blossom season is over, some of the trees are still blossoming; white magnolia accenting the green in the most gorgeous of ways.

Unpainted, the pavilion boasts the natural colour of its timbers, much like the hanoks, and as you spot Yoongi nervously waiting at the end of the aisle, you can't help but smile. There's a strength that comes with pavillions like these, despite their beauty. No place is more apt for them to say their vows.

Though his face lights up when he spots you all approaching, it's not enough to shake the nerves. It's not as if he's got any doubts, nor is he worried about Seoyeon having cold feet. It's just wedding jitters.

As the boys greet him with handshakes, there's a formality between them all that has never existed before. Tearful eyes, tightly shut lips. Smiles, and stuttered laughter. It's all very endearing.

Jeongguk takes a seat on the front row beside Yoongi's family. Needs to be close for his ever-so-important ring-bearing duty. You watch on from the row behind, unable to look at anything other than the back of his head.

For all the beauty of the landscape, and the gorgeous venue, he's still the most breathtaking thing about this place.

Or at least he is, until the pianist begins to play the opening notes of something you don't initially recognise. It's not a traditional choice, but then again not much about Yoongi and Seoyeon's nuptials are. It's around the time you register that it's a rendition of Etta James' At Last that Seoyeon finally comes into view.

A vision in a champagne-coloured tulle dream of a dress, she's every bit the girl of Yoongi's dreams. Whimsical and winsome, she captivates in a way that only she can. Hair loose, her usual plaits remain scattered throughout her dark waves, to match the single plait in Yoongi’s hair. There's something slightly eccentric about Seoyeon, and yet she's entirely down to earth.

Her deep, dark eyes are a little glassy, focused on her husband-to-be. Trying his best not to cry, Yoongi is almost annoyed at himself for being so emotional - but how could he not be?

Breaking tradition once more, Seoyeon's sister, Seobi, walks her down the aisle, much like Yoongi's older brother is his only groomsman. After all, this day is about them, and them alone. They've got everyone they care about watching on, and that's enough. When it comes to the actual wedding, they only want to focus on one another.

As you watch on, you think they made the right choice. There's something incredibly special about how Yoongi and Seoyeon look at one another. A reverence you don't see too often. One that keeps you glancing to the back of Jeongguk's head.

He fidgets, you notice. Gets restless.

You're unaware it's because it's taking everything in him not to turn around and steal a glance in your direction. Doesn't know how to be near you without being close to you. Hates it. Wishes you were by his side.

And yet when the time comes for Jeongguk to pass over the rings, he's smooth. Calm. Collected. Everything he needs to be and more. Doesn't drop them, which is what you'd been fearing more than anything.

A wave of relief flushes over you as he takes his seat once more, his job done.

God, how you wish you were beside him so that you could give his hand a little squeeze. Nothing noticeable. Just a silent well done. Pride; shown in private, but not in secret.

Instead, you're forced to sit with an uncomfortable longing in your chest. A need to be closer to him. It's not a new feeling, per se, but it's definitely one that isn't usually as intense as it is right now. Something's changed.

The feeling is washed away with a roar of congratulations as the newly minted Min's share their first kiss as a wedded couple. Soft, serene smiles are plastered all over their faces from the pandemonium, but the kiss perseveres. It's the first of a lifetime, so they're gonna make it count.

When they finally pull away for air, Seoyeon's hand is raised into the air, Yoongi's hand hooked behind her back as she cheers in pure delight. They really are the perfect tale of compromise, struggle, and fruition. A romance that has endured.

It's been an honour to witness it - and as Jeongguk silently walks beside you to the reception, you can't help but be glad you're experiencing it with him.

Tables arranged in seating groups of six, you're pleased to find yourself sitting with Danbi. You've been assigned one of the top tables, with Seoyeon's sister and her other half, Dokyeom. Naturally, the remaining spaces go to Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Every bit as ethereal as Seoyeon, Seobi is a little more put together than her sister. She's got the height in her family, and a slightly better poise, but also has a look about her that lets you know she's just as much fun as Seoyeon.

Dokyeom looks like he's been copied and pasted out of the pages of an Italian fashion magazine documenting Milan Fashion Week. With a sharp nose, and just as strong jawline, you're surprised by how much he softens when he smiles - and given that he smiles almost every single time Seobi speaks, it's like having sunshine bottled up and put on your table. He even gives Hoseok a run for his money (but you'll never tell him that).

"So," Seobi says over wine between courses at dinner. Has been ever so chatty and curious about both you and Danbi. Though you're new to her, you're clearly important to Seoyeon - after all, the wedding party isn't that massive. Just their nearest and dearest. She glances towards Jeongguk, who's currently embroiled in some hot topic with Dokyeom. "How long have you guys been together?"

What a great question , you think to yourself, trying not to let the panic on your face show - but your pause sort of gives it away. You glance over to Jeongguk now. It's quick, but not quick enough for Seobi not to notice.

"Oh, unless, you're not?" She laughs a little.

You grit your teeth a little bashfully, then say, "Let me confer quickly."

Squeezing Jeongguk's arm, he's instantly pulled away from the conversation he's in. Hastily apologises to Dokyeom, then looks towards you.

"Yeah?"

And it's probably just because you're tipsy and this is all so stupid, but you find yourself absolutely enamoured. Grin, as you ask, "How long have we been together?"

Jeongguk pauses. The chatter around you both fades into silence. There's no one else in the room, as far as he's concerned. A smirk lingers on his lips. "Together?"

"Mhmm," you say quietly. "Seobi asked."

He turns now, the room chatter quickly clattering back into his ears. With a small smile on his lips, Jeongguk says to Seobi, "Like, a year. She's been playing hard to get, though."

With that, he dips. Rejoins his conversation. Leaves you with an incredulous look of bewilderment on your face.

"That's a long time to play hard to get, girl," Seobi laughs - but she also knows Jeongguk reasonably well by now. Was around during the Hayun days. Is pretty sure Jeongguk exclusively goes for girls who won't give him an easy win. "I'm impressed."

You know you could deny it. Could say he's making up. That you aren't together.

But it's a nice reality to think he's been yours for that long.

Deflecting the conversation back to her, you get the details on her and Dokyeom; how she actually met him through Jeongguk, and how they've known each other for years. Tells you about their awkward limbo between friendship and relationship, and how it's the best leap of faith she's ever made.

"Didn't believe him at first," she admits. Sips on her wine, and says, "Thought the idiot kept getting his heartbroken, but turned out the girls he was dating kept asking him to choose between me and them."

"And he always chose you?"

She nods. Looks smug, but incredibly sweet about it. Is just proud of the man she gets to call hers. "And he always chose me. He just never told me. Thought I'd figure it out."

It's sort of a blessing to hear that not everyone has the fairytale coming together like Yoongi and Seoyeon, or the slightly less romantic but still incredibly straightforward coupling of Taehyung and Danbi. That maybe your history with Jeongguk will be the making of you, not the downfall.

You almost choke on your wine when Seobi follows up with, "The she-devil given you any grief over it?"

It's now that you realise the most stark difference between Seoyeon and Seobi: their temperaments. While Seoyeon is a peacekeeper, Seobi has no time to entertain people she deems a threat to those she cares about. Knows of Hayun doing one too many shady shenanigans in the past to think that she's good for anything other than drama.

"Given that you don't need me to mention her by name, I'll take that as a yes," Seobi smiles, reading your expression perfectly. Rolls her eyes.

"It's not been so bad," you downplay the gravity of her impact.

"She told Dokyeom he could do better than me, once," she says, the taste of the words bitter in her mouth. Glares ever so briefly in the direction of Hayun's table. "Trust me, I know she's a cow."

"Why on earth would she do that?!" You almost gasp. It's one thing feeling possessive over Jeongguk, but another guy? Who she'd have known was friends with Jeongguk? Seems unreasonable.

"His nose," she says, deadly serious. So serious in fact, that you can't help but laugh - and then so does she. "It's true! She always goes for guys with great noses. I can't fault her. Jeongguk's ain't half bad, but it's got nothing on Dokyeom's."

"I'd beg to differ," you grin, appreciative of Dokyeom's nose, but thinking it can't compare. That's the thing though - of course you're enamoured with Jeongguk's nose just as much as she is with Dokyeom's. Goes with the territory.

"Well, you would," she grins right back. "But that's the thing, you actually give a shit about him. She was just a selfish bint looking for the next good nose."

Beneath the table, you reach out. Both of Jeongguk's elbows are on the table, hands out of the way, so you gently stroke his thigh. Just want to let him know that you're there, and that you do care. Not just about how unbearably sexy that nose of his is, but all of him.

Silently, still engrossed in his conversation, Jeongguk brings one of his hands down. Tucks it beneath the table. Finds yours. Interlocks your fingers together.

Pouting as she observes you both, Seobi is glad Jeongguk has you.

"Look after him," she muses quietly. "Him and his nose."

The night's celebrations proceed exactly as you expect them to; a myriad of champagne and confetti.

You all drink far too much, and dance a little too hard. Hayun is avoided for the most part, but not ignored entirely. You smile during conversations that involve her. Seoyeon is a girlie of peace, so you'll give her exactly that for her special day.

The only downside to a wedding is that the happy couple has to spend so much time entertaining other people. Seoyeon and Yoongi seem to have to constantly greet guests or say goodbye to older family members instead of revelling in one another's company.

In fact, the first time they truly do get a moment alone is when Seoyeon goes to change out of her wedding dress into an evening gown. Takes Yoongi with her, understandably.

Bouquet left on the table, the girls sit around a giggle, all incredibly wine-drunk. Gossiping and enthusing over little stories, there's an ease to it all - even if you are across the table from Hayun.

The boys are busy out on the front lawn. Yoongi had tossed Jeongguk the rest of his wedding cigars as he'd headed up to the bridal suite with Seoyeon. Felt like a shame to waste them. Also suggested that Yoongi wanted something to keep the boys entertained, knowing he'd be gone for a little while.

Toying with the ribbon around the stems of Seoyeon's baby's breath bouquet, Seobi muses, "I wonder which one of us will be next?"

It's her and Dokyeom, guaranteed. You only met them a matter of hours ago, but it seems like the only logical conclusion to draw. Taehyung and Danbi are nowhere near that point yet, and you and Jeongguk are still cosplaying as besties.

"Well if it's not you and Dokyeom," Hayun says a little absent-mindedly, as if she's forgotten whose company she's in. "Then it'll be me and Gguk. We've got that dumb pact of ours to see through."

She laughs, but she's the only one.

Everyone else just kind of looks at you.

"What?" she grins, but doesn't look in your direction. Shrugs, with such carelessness that you know she must be looking to get a rise out of you. There's no reason she'd open herself up for embarrassment like this if she didn't think she could embarrass you even more. Though red might be her colour, she doesn't like to be red in the face. "A pact's a pact, and we're both single. He's always been a man of his word, so why wouldn't he make an honest woman-"

"Yun," Nabi interrupts. Is stern. Looks at her friend, willing her to just keep her mouth shut. Knows that even if you and Jeongguk aren't specifically official, that you aren't exactly single, either. Very much the opposite.

Instead of listening to her, Hayun seems to find this all hilarious. "We could literally do it tomorrow." Her eyes seem so nostalgic that you almost feel bad. "Y'know, we made a cake once. Froze it. Said we'd use it-"

"Seriously, Yun."

"-if we ever got married. It's probably still there in the back of his free-."

"It's not," you finally interrupt. Honestly have no idea if it is in his freeze or not. Fabricate a story, just because you can't bear the thought of her knowing the intricacies of his home better than you do. "Gguk cleared it out ages ago so he could freeze Jimin's pens into an ice block. Said it was nothing special when he tossed it in the bin. Had terrible freezer burn. Clearly didn't care about preserving it. Sorry."

It's entirely plausible, you think, for Jeongguk to do such a thing to Jimin. Wouldn't be surprised if it is the kind of prank played in their apartment.

But just like you have no idea if her claims are legitimate, Hayun has no idea if you're telling the truth or not.

She shrugs. Looks directly at you, now. Smiles. Says, "Maybe he'll pick you as his Best Woman, given how close you guys are."

Hayun is playing entirely dumb to the fact she knows Jeongguk is head over heels for you. Wants to reduce you to nothing more than what you pretend to be: friends .

Part of you wonders if she's baiting you out. Trying to get you to admit it, that you and Jeongguk have been far more than just friends for a while.

The rest of you thinks she's just doing it to upset you.

Absolutely no part of you thinks she's delusional enough to actually believe what she's saying.

"Yeah, maybe," you smile, deciding not to rise to her. Glance over to Nabi. "You'll be maid of honour, right?"

She says nothing, because while yes, she will be Hayun's maid of honour when the time comes, she absolutely knows for certain that it won't be during a marriage between Hayun and Jeongguk, of all people.

"As seriously as I'll take the role of Best Woman, I'm afraid I have to tell you that I won't seduce you," you pout in Nabi's direction, making fun of the best man and maid of honour stereotype. It's not that Nabi isn't gorgeous, or undeserving of someone fawning over her - it's just that you're being petty and want to hit Hayun where it hurts with what you say next. "I mean, I can't fuck the maid of honour and the groom. That'd just be messy."

There's a couple of gasps, and some chortled laughs. Danbi curses, completely taken off guard by the fact you've just openly admitted to fucking Jeongguk.

Realistically, she knows it's more than just fucking. Knows you'll do anything for him. Knows that all of this is just a rouse to wind Hayun up.

"It'll be really cool of you to let me be the Best Woman, though," you insist, focusing back on Hayun, now. "Most girls don't like their partners being friends with exes, let alone invite them to their wedding! Such cool girlie energy from you, Yunnie ."

You're deliberately being patronising and you don't care. She started it. The only people left at the venue are your friends, so there's no worry about a public fall out, even if it is becoming more uncomfortable.

"We all know he only has exes because he couldn't have me," she shrugs, as if she actually believes that. "It's no threat."

You know she means to say ' you're no threat. '

You also know that would be a lie.

"It wasn't meant to be," you smile, just as good at playing faux-friendly as she is. "But he could totally have you, now, with the way you keep throwing yourself on him - yet he couldn't want you less, even if he tried. Funny, that."

A child-like fury sets into Hayun's features. There's no way she's winning this - but you don't exactly want to keep it up, either.

Pushing your chair back, you get to your feet, and smile. Excuse yourself. Head outside to where the scent of cigar smoke lingers in the cool early summer air.

With the changing seasons come the promise of something new. Something unprecedented. You'll never get the days ahead of you ever again. You'll rip them away like numbers in a raffle book, and toss them into a bin. Occasionally you'll get a winner - and when you spot Jeongguk laughing about something, stubbing out his cigar as soon as he sees you appear, you can't help but think this is one of those occasions.

"Hey," you grab his attention, squeezing his arm. "Just gonna run over to the rooms quickly. Want a jacket."

A little vacant in his registering of your words, Jeongguk turns away from the conversation he was in. Thinks nothing of the way he comes to walk alongside you, a hand on the small of your back.

"You don't have to come," you laugh. Had only been telling him so that you could keep him in the loop. Still, it's nice to have him follow you in the way that he does: without question, without request, without reason.

"Wanna," he just shrugs. "Haven't seen you in like, an hour."

"Oh, no," you tease. "How on earth have you coped?"

"Terribly," he admits, sipping on the beer still in his hand that isn't on your back. Passes it over to you. There's an easy silence when you take a sip, beer warm and bitter in your mouth. No need to fill the space where conversations typically are. In fact, it's the first time either of you have had the chance to rest your brains all evening.

Returning the bottle to its original owner, you snake your arm around his waist. Heels off, you'd left them in the reception venue, which is fine - except for when you reach the gravel driveway.

"C'mon," he insists, dopping his posture a little, positioning himself in front of you. "I'll carry you."

"It's fine-"

"Get on," he says, turning back over his shoulder. "It'll be quicker."

Your first attempt at jumping on his back fails. Has you both laughing. Are too drunk to coordinate yourselves properly.

Eventually, though, you land the jump just right. Wrap yourself around his body, and take his beer bottle so he can support your legs. Trust him with your body in the most innocent of ways.

He carries you the entire way without complaint, but as he puts you down outside the hanok rooms, Jeongguk simply says, "You can just borrow my jacket."

There's a curious wonder to the way you look at him, glitter shining under the low lighting of the pathway guides. This far out of the city, it's easy to see the stars - but Jeongguk would argue that it's always this easy whenever he's around you.

Narrowing your eyes, you tilt your head. "Could have offered ten minutes ago. Saved yourself a walk."

He purses his lips. Tries not to smile.

"True," he nods, drawing you closer, nudging his nose up against yours. Whispers against your lips, "But I couldn't have done this."

It's not new, the way Jeongguk's lips sink into yours.

The way he smiles into the feeling? Not new, at all.

The way you pull him closer and giggle between kisses, is again, nothing new.

Nor is the pressure of his lip ring, nor how his tongue strokes against your bottom lip. The way he kisses you is tried and tested; guaranteed to have you both melting into one another's touch.

You're not entirely sure how long it lasts. All you know is that your lips are a little numb, and his are now the colour of your lipstick.

Serene, as you stroke across his bottom lip with your thumb, you wonder how you made it this far with a man who makes you feel as secure as Jeongguk. Quietly hum, "Can I ask you something?"

He nods. "Anything."

And even though you already know the answer, you just have to be sure. Have to know. Aren't sure what you'll do if Jeongguk gives you a different answer than the one you expect.

"The pact... The one with Hayun." Upon hearing your words, Jeongguk frowns. Understands what you're asking immediately. "Is it... Like, will it still happen?"

There's a soft shake to his head. Silence. A deeper frown, and then, "No, Byeol."

"Even if we-"

"Even if we call things off," he cuts you off. Thinks it's vital that you know how serious he is about this. Knows you met him at a time when the answer would have been different, so that it might be hard to believe now. "B, that chapter of my life-" he shrugs. "-It's done. Completely. Entirely."

"Even if you're single at thirty?"

"If I'm single at thirty, it means I've fucked things up with you," he states, swallowing back the uncomfortable feeling that comes with that potential. Looks down, jaw a little tense. Shakes his head, then focuses his hardened gaze in on you again. "I liked telling Seobi we're a couple, earlier. I want that reality. And I also want you to stop second-guessing my intentions, B. You know how I feel about you."

You're silent, now. Hadn't even realised that your insecurities had been tarnishing his vulnerability.

You do believe him. Of course, you do. There's never been a pair of eyes more honest than his.

And maybe it's because he's drunk, and feeling everything a little more intensely, but Jeongguk feels like he simply can't take it any longer. Is in dire need of something more than the 'nothing' you're pretending to be.

But he's got a plan, and a way that he wants to do things, and a handful of more dates until he can do any of that.

So instead, he rests his forehead against yours. Wants to give you his heart, but will settle for his outerwear. Insists, "Wear my jacket, B. Please."

It's a curious way to declare your status as 'his'.

A shared blazer is exactly that. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a way to keep warm - but it's a sacrifice of his own comfort. A display of his desire to provide. Slightly primal, you think, as you wrap yourself in the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body.

The garment swamps you, but Jeongguk thinks it looks sweet. Likes how undeniable it is that his pocket square matches your dress perfectly, now that it's on you.

And so when you return, Jungook takes the opportunity to dance with you in a way that you really shouldn't dance with a 'friend.'

Palms finding your waist beneath his jacket, the low lighting of the pavilion isn't enough to obscure the intimacy from onlookers. He's holding you close for everyone to see. For speculation to be made. For gossip to spread and for whispers to echo.

And they do.

Nodding across to the pair of you, Yoongi smiles. Leans across to his new wife as they sit together for a breather, and says, "Think they're finally getting their shit together."

Seoyeon can see it in your eyes; the way you look at Jeongguk.

It's the same way she looks at Yoongi.

Glancing across the room, Seoyeon is quick to check if Hayun has clocked what's happening, and frowns when she notices the little bit of agony resting between her friend's impeccably shaped brows. Regret, perhaps.

Seoyeon chooses not to mention it to Yoongi.

Instead, she rests her chin on her shoulder and looks at him. Waits for him to look at her, too. When he does, she smiles. "Do you think they'll go the distance?"

The answer is obvious. She just wants Yoongi's opinion so that she knows how to handle Hayun in the wake of it all. She's still her friend, after all. Still not someone she wants to see hurting.

But Seoyeon also knows there's no way in hell she can let Hayun throw a tantrum and disrupt the fledgeling romance between you and Jeongguk. It wouldn't be fair. Not to anyone.

Yoongi nods. Is quiet when he replies, "I think so."

He continues to watch his wife as her warm eyes focus on the pair of you once more. There's laughter between you both, Jeongguk leaning close to whisper in your ear as you slowly waltz together.

Hand in hand, there's no mistaking how naturally it comes to you both. A warm glow of exposed bulbs paint you both in an orange hue; toasty warm and quite content. The sparkle that's forever on your skin is in your eyes, too. And his. Sort of feels like watching a cosmic calamity take place.

There's something incredibly ordinary about you and Jeongguk. Totally unsurprising. Puzzle pieces correctly slotting into place.

What makes you special is that you're the final pieces of the puzzle. The ones that make it complete; that end the painstaking trials it takes to create the perfect picture.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle, deliberately trying not to draw attention to the conversation you're having. It's nonsense. Makes you feel all warm inside, how joyful it is to be with a person like him. He grips your waist when you laugh. Likes the way it feels. "Next hypothetical: Genie grants you one wish. No money, no bringing anyone back from the dead, no superpowers. What's the wish?"

"What's the point in a wish if I can't get superpowers?!" He protests, quietly and giggly, just like you are.

"The point is that it has to be something you really want."

"I do really want to fly-"

"Then get a plane."

"You're no fun, Byeol," he grins, suggesting that you are, in fact, a lot of fun. "Please let me have superpowers."

"Nope."

"Plea-"

"No," you laugh, knowing it's too much of an easy out. "C'mon. Use that brain of yours, babe."

And maybe it's just because you're a little drunk, or maybe it's cause the romantic air of a wedding has your brain a little loopy, but 'babe' almost feels normal. Almost.

The way Jeongguk cocks his brow, but says nothing about it – just accepts the term of endearment – makes you think that maybe it is normal.

Jeongguk would quite like it to be the norm. Finds himself all rather endeared, actually. Wants to kiss you. Knows he shouldn't.

So instead, he tells you, "I wish we were alone."

It's not that he wants to leave, or that he's bored of the celebrations. He's enjoying this dance floor far too much, and still has energy to burn from the sheer amount of cake he practically inhaled after dinner.

It's just that everything is so loud.

But when it's you, and him, in an empty room, Jeongguk's brain switches off. Falls into a natural state of being. It's the only calm he thinks he's ever known. Comfort, in a life that routinely feels uncomfortable.

"Why?" You smile, all tipsy and tepid, as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute thanks to how risky this feels. It's like you're scared you're gonna get caught – but caught for what? You and Jeongguk are exactly what everyone thinks you are. There's nothing to hide, because it's impossible to keep a chemistry like yours secret.

You're caesium in water; nitrous oxide and carbon disulfide meeting an open flame. Things learned about as kids, but rarely – if ever – seen in adult life.

In fact, there's only one other example of such chemistry in this room, and they're sitting at the top table with freshly polished rings around their fourth fingers.

"You know why," Jeongguk simply says, then decides that simplicity is for idiots. Wants to embellish his words. Fluff them up. Make them stupid and irrational and ever so foolish. Wants to declare, because he thinks declarations are what you deserve. "Just wanna be with you, B. Constantly. It's like I have tinnitus whenever there are other people around, but then I see you and it-"

The word 'stops' is lost in your lips. It's fast and it's fleeting, but it's your own declaration right back to him: I want you, proudly.

Like the dragonflies you'd marvelled at earlier, your lips only flutter against his for a small fraction of time. Just long enough for him to know what magic feels like.

When you pull away, Jeongguk's eyes stay closed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" you giggle, squeezing the sides of his waist with so much adoration that he thinks he'll melt into your touch. "Am I not allowed to kiss you?"

On a technicality, no. You're not. You'd agreed to let things fly under the radar – but you're both tipsy, and you both hate the idea of other people simply being unaware.

Because you are proud.

You are his.

And you want that red hot pair of eyes on you to know it, too.

To know that he's yours. Him, and his pretty nose.

"It's against the rules," he smiles – then steals one right back.

"When it comes to rules, we always seem to break them," you hum, all serene and docile in the wake of Jeongguk's reciprocation.

That's the thing about you both. Are just handfuls of bad decisions wrapped up with bows and dusted in glitter. So pristinely messy that you wouldn't be out of place in the Tate, or SOMA, or some other gallery Jeongguk hasn't heard of but you know intimately. Displayed somewhere not too far from Tracy Emin's My Bed, or Kang Wonje's Black Star. Entirely human and yet not of this world at all. Will be adored by the masses; and will confuse just as many. An invaluable piece of art that will never be auctioned, 'cause you can't put a price on this. On love.

"It's what they were made for," he promises.

"Well, in that case," you hum, getting on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. You're about to make an incredibly bad decision, and you know it - you're just beyond caring. "I think know a couple more rules we can break."

And the way Jeongguk looks at you would suggest he's past the point of caring, too.

"Fuck it."

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vllergy · 5 months

Text

relations & afflictions

random allergy fic, 2.3k, old ocs of mine jin-young is a cop (he has the kink because of who i am as a person) vesen is a big tall hot alien assassin aliens and humans are working together but it's still pretty new and things are awkward jin and vesen 100% fall in love with each other eventually that's basically all you need to know

Something’s been bothering Vesen’s nose ever since they left the warehouse. His insistence on delaying the inevitable is only driving both the offending appendage, and Jin by extension, insane.

There’s a lot Jin has yet to figure out about his alien partner. Human and Kheelen relations are touch and go as it is, and the fact that they’ve paired officers up like this for police work is a shoddy effort at best to keep the peace. There’s just still too much they don’t understand about one another for anything to go smoothly. Case in point—until today, Jin didn’t even know if the Kheelen could sneeze.

It’s not that they look all that different. Bipedal, humanoid, all the same parts and facial features—Kheelen just do everything more elegant and longer it seems like. Even now Vesen has to hunch over slightly to fit all the willowy six foot eight of himself inside Jin’s squad car, and he’s one of the shorter ones of his species. Vesen’s face is similarly angular and lean, almost feline, with deep black eyes and a nose that angles regally off the front of his profile. Jin has always thought the Kheelen look how high fashion used to think supermodels ought to look—distinctly alien, a little off putting, but still undeniably beautiful.

It helps that their skin comes in almost every shade of the rainbow. Vesen’s is a soft lilac, though you wouldn’t catch Jin admitting it. Nor should he even be thinking about how Vesen’s slightly-leaner-than-human nostrils are a little darker purple at the moment as they wriggle and flex with what looks like blatant irritation.

Thankfully, Vesen’s attitude keeps most amorous thoughts of Jin’s to a minimum. The guy’s taciturn, stoic, and doesn’t really give a shit about anyone but himself. He’s got a superiority complex too, but no one at the precinct seems to care. Everyone’s dealing with their own Kheelen partners and the messy diplomatic shitstorms they tend to kick up. It’s just unlucky Jin got the biggest fucking prick of the bunch.

He’s good at what he does though. They call him the Wraith. Jin has never seen anyone move like Vesen does, not even other Kheelen. At the very least, he’s not going to die with him as a partner.

At least, not from phaser fire. He may die from another problem entirely if the guy doesn’t stop sniffling like a leaky faucet next to him for the rest of this ride.

Jin squirms in his seat slightly and tries not to glance at Vesen out of the corner of his eye. Lean, purple forearms are braced against raised knees as the alien sits slightly crunched in the front seat. The seat is pulled all the way back but his legs are so damn long it’s impossible to make him comfortable. Jin thinks about getting the chief to requisition them some new vehicles. This is hardly fair.

Vesen’s dark silk hair is shaved down the sides of his skull and then braided across the top of his head and hung down his back, the braid extending all the way to the bottom of his spine. Self-consciously, Jin runs a hand through his own dark hair. Regulation cut. No frills. Pretty underwhelming all things considered.

His fingers come away dusty when he sets his hand back on the wheel. He frowns at his fingertips, rubbing them together slightly. The warehouse they raided today looked like it had been abandoned for decades. Maybe longer. He’s going to need a full decontamination shower after this—

“h-nNDT!”

His stomach drops. But coolly, he slides his eyes over to his passenger and finds Vesen as relaxed as ever. He’d stifled with barely a sound or movement at all. Only a slight irritated blink gives him away as he recovers

Jin could ignore it, and probably should. But the words are off his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

“I didn’t even know you could sneeze.”

He can feel the simmering fury radiating from the seat beside him as Vesen turns his head. Dark eyes bore into the side of his skull. Jin knows that look without even having to see it—imperious, infuriated.

Then, flatly in the dark baritone he’s come to loathe, Vesen responds, “Why would we not?”

Jin shrugs, “I dunno. Your biology is different from ours in a ton of different ways, I thought maybe you guys just didn’t.”

Vesen sniffs softly. The sound lashes a current of electricity up Jin’s spine.

“That is preposterous.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jin concedes, “You have noses and you breathe air, so it stands to reason.”

“You—hh?” Vesen pauses, gasps and turns his head away, pressing his knuckle to his septum and flinching into another soundless stifle. He recovers with a dry sniffle and swears in his own language. Jin hasn’t picked up the translation just yet, but he understands the intent just fine.

“Bless you,” he says, and feels a certain thrill at saying it. Especially to Vesen, who by all accounts probably is taking this all as a knock to his pride.

As if on cue, the alien gives him a reproachful look. “What?” he snaps.

Jin waves a hand, “It’s a human saying…well, in some regions. When someone sneezes.”

“Foolish.”

“What do the Kheelen say when someone sneezes?”

“Why are you so interested, Jin-young?”

Jin’s cheeks flush slightly. The question is an honest one, but it’s said with just the right amount of judgment that it feels like it’s getting too close to the truth. He clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders.

“Just making conversation. We’re supposed to be learning about each other, right?”

There’s a long pause. The inside of the car is tense. Finally, Vesen sniffs lightly and sighs.

“We do not say anything. It is not a…common occurrence.”

He says this with a bit of embarrassment, which piques Jin’s interest tenfold. No wonder he hadn’t been sure if the Kheelen even possessed this biological function—he’s worked with enough of them for long enough now he was bound to have seen it happen at least once. But it’s never come up before. Not until this at least.

Trying to keep the angle of the conversation on scholarly curiosity rather than selfish, Jin tilts his head.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Vesen doesn’t answer for a moment, and when Jin looks over he sees why. The alien is caught with his eyes half-lidded, mouth parted slightly, a shuddering breath quaking under his vest. He shakes his head and suddenly bows it, steepling his hands over his nose and mouth. A very human pose, Jin thinks, despite only having four fingers on each hand.

“hH’DDIISSShhyue!”

Vesen rises from his hands instantly and doesn’t give Jin time to bless him, or even react, “We are a very hardy species. Unlike humans, it takes a great deal to afflict our sensibilities.”

Just to be a dick, Jin blesses him anyway. Vesen cuts him a watery glare before Jin continues, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, “But…something is clearly uh…afflicting you now, right?”

Vesen sniffs pointedly, “It appears so.”

Jin’s boiling alive under his uniform all of a sudden. He knows he should stop fanning the fire but his mouth is moving faster than his brain, and he can’t help but keep asking questions. The slightly stuffy quality to Vesen’s deep voice as this progresses isn’t helping things either. He white-knuckles the steering wheel.

“I wonder what it is,” he hums, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.” Flat, unmoved, typical Vesen. Jin almost rolls his eyes.

“Then, are you sick?”

“I am not ill.”

“Then I’m at a loss, bud."

“It is not your concern, Jin-young,” Vesen assures him, but in that slightly dismissive way that seems to suggest it never was to begin with.

That might have been it, and for a few moments Jin thinks it’s over. But after a lengthy pause, he hears Vesen take a clipped breath beside him. Then, he lowers his face slowly into his hands once more and Jin tenses, waiting for the inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the alien’s massive shoulders rising with a swell of breath before—

“hhH-rrSCHH!” Stronger and harsher than the one that came before it. Vesen lifts his head, thinking he’s finished, but is taken by two itchy sounding ones almost immediately after. He doesn’t bother lowering his head again and merely sneezes freely, misting his own palms as he shudders into them. “Chhssyu! ccHSH!”

“Okay, see, it is kind of my concern,” Jin reasons, and leans over to reach past Vesen’s knees for the glove box, “Because you’re my partner and now I’m officially worried.”

Vesen isn’t listening. He’s lost in the throes of whatever it has meant to finally give into this tickle that’s been plaguing him since they left the warehouse. His hands still cupped in front of him, his upper lip curls back slightly as he gears up for another. Jin unlocks the glove box, the back of his hand drifting against Vesen’s knee for a moment.

“Sorry,” he says, his heart pounding.

Vesen responds in kind with a stuttered gasp and another powerful sneeze.

“hH? hhH! ehH’HDJSshoo!”

He wrenches to the side at the last second to try and direct it against the window but Jin still feels the spray of it against his forearm and nearly loses control of the fucking car. He manages to somehow keep them alive and also force a wad of napkins into Vesen’s hands.

“Here, Vesen.”

Vesen gathers the crumpled paper and presses it to his dripping nose. He blows hard—Jin didn’t know they did that either—which seems to help just for a moment.

“I’m gonna get you back to headquarters, okay?” Jin says, trying not to let his voice shake. He’s almost certain Vesen can hear his heart pounding but he’s hoping he’s a little too distracted by the itch to notice.

Vesen nods blearily and gets one liquid sniffle in before something sets him off again. He holds the sodden napkins just slightly away from him and sneezes against them in short bursts. “aeh’ESSCH! chSSCH! t’SHH!”

“Jesus, you gonna make it?” Jin asks. Am I?

“Focus on your driving, Jin-young,” Vesen says evenly and dabs at his nose, “There is no need for alarm.”

Ah, good. So Vesen can hear his heartbeat, but he thinks it’s anxiety, not anything else. Good. Jin can roll with that, at least. Interspecies relations are hard enough without adding weird kinks to the mix.

“Are you sure? Because—“

“hH’RRSsch!”

“You sound like—“

“hHuh’IISH! ISHH! hh-Hh?…”Vesen pauses on the last one, hanging in limbo with his gaze flickering on the horizon. Jin waits for him, watching his throat bob as the urge takes him.

“hhH’yyIISSHAh!”

Vesen cups that one into his palm, though it does nothing to lessen the volume.

Jin swallows, “Wow. Because you sound like you’re getting worse.”

“A passing ihhritation,” Vesen says, somehow managing to sound cold while his voice wavers.

In other words: drop it.

But Jin can already see his face twitching around the need to sneeze again. It’s five more minutes back to the station and god, if he can even get out of his squad car to walk in it’ll be a fucking miracle. Either way, he’s in trouble. They’re supposed to watch out for their Kheelen counterparts in the field. Have each other’s backs. Bringing one back sneezing his goddamn head off seems like the opposite of that.

“Should we open a window?” Jin asks.

Vesen nods through his next sneeze and fumbles for the controls on the side panel as he snaps forward.

“aeh’eESSCHUu!”

Jin gets the controls going on his own side for him and both windows peel open. City air streams through the car. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it’s not terrible either. Jin grew up here so it’s part and parcel of his being. He can’t imaging what it must be like for the Kheelen. Breathing sweet, fresh air every day of their own planet to now…this. Maybe that’s why Vesen in particular is so sensitive. Or maybe he’s overthinking it.

A tired, weak sneeze is directed out towards the open air and into Vesen’s curled fist as the alien leans to the window. “hh’iIShoo!”

“Bless. Any better?” Jin asks.

“It smells of smog and metal,” Vesen complains and slides his finger under his nose, wicking moisture away petulantly.

“Everyone’s a critic.”

They ride the rest of the way in relative quiet, Vesen with his head out the window like a dog and Jin lowering his body temperature to acceptable levels. By the time they get to the precinct he’s actually able to stand up and get out of the squad car and can feel everything below the waist.

Just in time for Vesen to come around the side of the car and pin him by the shoulder. Jin has to look up at him because he’s so tall, and his hand feels like a vice against him. Vesen could snap him like a twig if he wanted. Something he’s fond of reminding him.

“Tell anyone of what transpired here, Jin-young, and you will not live long enough to regret it,” Vesen hisses at him, pointed teeth flashing.

It would be intimidating were it not for the inadvertent sniffle that follows as Vesen backs off. His eyes grow slightly hazy even as they try to bore into Jin’s and his hand loosens on his shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon big guy, one more?” Jin asks, eyes flashing.

Fury sparks in Vesen’s face before the need overtakes him entirely. His expression crumples as he releases Jin to cover his nose and mouth with his hand and flinches into it.

“h’NNDXT!”

A full body shudder runs the length of Jin’s body. He can feel his lower belly melting again.

He smiles, “Bless you.”

Vesen growls and shoves at Jin with his opposite hand as he sniffles in recovery. He bares his teeth at him.

“Be quiet,” he says before turning away and heading toward the precinct steps.

“I think we bonded today!” Jin calls after him, “We’re making progress! Pioneers of human and Kheelen relations, you and me!”

#i was trying to link this to the ask and realized i couldn't find it anymore???#idk if i archived it or what and don't remember but its seemingly #vanished so #reposting for prosperity #snz kink #snzfic #my ocs #vesjin #if anyone finds the OG let me know im so confused lmao #ANYWAY THANK U FOR THE BEAUTIFUL ASK IM GOING TO BE RIDING THIS HIGH ALL DAY!!!!!

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an-unknown-writers-world · 2 years

Text

Birdstrike

Summary: Hangman comes home to his on-again-off-again partner after Coyote’s G-Lock and Phoenix and Bob’s bird strike induced punch out.

Warnings: Angsty AF(sorry), with a fluffy cheeeeeesy ending - singular use of y/n

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Characters: Mentions of Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Rooster, and Maverick

Word Count: 1372

A/N: This is angsty with the cheesiest ending – sorry not sorry

“Jake,” You called out, hearing the door close, “Babe, is that you?”

“Yeah, doll. It’s me.” You could hear the defeat and exhaustion in his voice.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

He didn’t speak again, but you could tell by the heavy footsteps that he was headed toward you.

You weren’t expecting to see him tonight. Since his first round at Top Gun, you had been in an on-again-off-again relationship with Jake Seresin. The moment he stepped into The Hard Deck all those years ago, you knew it was all over for you. You fell in love with him. You weren’t delusional; he was a naval aviator- he wouldn’t be around long, but that wasn’t going to stop you from falling in love with him.

Jake would still visit a few times a year when he was on leave; he’d even asked you to come to his family’s ranch in Texas a few times. But you weren’t in any kind of serious relationship.

Strong hands wrapped around your waist as you stood in front of the kitchen sink. He kissed the top of your head before leaning to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Everything okay?” You asked, turning the kitchen sink off.

Jake was never this needy when he first came home. Well, not unless something horrible happened. Considering his job, it was always a possibility. But you also knew that there were many times that he couldn’t tell you what was going on.

“Just a long day,” He murmured. “And all I wanted when it was over was to see you.”

“Want me to order dinner, and you can tell me about it?” You turned in his arms to face him.

He nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

“Your usual?”

“Please.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna go shower while we wait.”

You stretched up on your tiptoes and kissed him. His rough, calloused hands found their way under the hem of your shirt as he pulled you impossibly closer and deepened the kiss. That man could kiss you breathless in two seconds flat, and he enjoyed every moment of it. You broke the kiss only when the need for air became too much to ignore.

“Go shower,” You smirked. “If you don’t go now, dinner is never getting ordered.”

He laughed, kissing you chastely. “Yes, ma’am.”

########

You had agreed not to talk about the heaviness of the day until after you were both done eating and could devote all your attention to him. His phone had gone off a handful of times, all Dagger Squad members seeming to check in? It was hard to tell, but you started reading between the lines when Bradley texted you to ensure that Jake was with you and not home alone.

“Babe, I hate to ask this. But does your bad day have anything to do with the reason Bradley just texted me to make sure you weren’t alone?”

“Yes,” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I should be worried or impressed that he has your number.”

“All of Dagger Squad does.” You chuckled. “How do you think I keep track of you when you’re not here?”

“Valid point.” He turned and laid his back across the couch, his head on your lap.

“Talk to me, babe,” You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes closed at the contact.

“I almost lost Coyote today.” He spoke softly. “He was in G-lock.”

Your heart sank. Javy was Jake’s best friend and wingman. They were practically inseparable from when they first arrived on North Island as Top Gun cadets.

When he opened his eyes, he had a thousand-yard stare, “Then Phoenix and Bob had to punch out because of birdstrike.” He continued.

“Oh, babe,” you cooed.

“This was all within minutes of each other.” He continued. “I had to sit in the Ready Room and listen to Maverick call it out over the radio. Over and over, he called out Coyote’s name just to try and pull Javy out of it.” He let out a deep breath, “He almost wasn’t in time.”

“But he was,” you reminded him.

“But what if he hadn’t been?” He questioned. “What if Phoenix or Bob weren’t able to eject in time? It’s happened before. That’s how Rooster’s dad died.”

You had heard the story of how Rooster’s dad died, as well as a few other pilots in the Top Gun program. It was heartbreaking, and every day that everyone came home was a day you were extra thankful for.

“Jake,” You spoke softly, cradling the side of his face. He turned into it and kissed the palm of your hand. “You can’t let yourself live in that thought process. Accidents happen, and you can’t keep reliving those moments. But you can keep the people you care about the most close to you and remind them every day how much you care.”

He was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that most people never experienced this side of him- the kind, caring, actual human side. A part of you always hoped he would share it with the rest of the world, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

“I guess I don’t do a good job at that,” He spoke so softly you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear.

“Vulnerability is courageous in its own way,” You encouraged, moving your hand to rest on his chest.

He chuckled softly. “And dangerous.”

“At times,” you nodded, smiling at him.

He reached out and grabbed your hand in his. He intertwined your fingers and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “You know that I love you, right?”

You were shocked by the concern evident in his expression, as if you may actually doubt his feelings for you.

“Jacob Seresin, I question many things in the world; but the fact that you love me is certainly not one of them.” The smile that stretched across his face could have lit up the night sky.

“After this mission, I have no idea where they’ll send me next.”

“It won’t matter. You always find your way back here.” You squeezed his hand softly.

“What if we didn’t have to worry about it?”

You looked at him with a scrunched forehead. There was no way this man was considering leaving the Navy, so what on earth could he mean.

“What if you and I never had to worry about where I was stationed. You could come with me.”

“Jake, the only way that would happen is if we were married.” You pointed out the obvious.

“I know,” He looked down at your intertwined hands. The man, confident in everything he does, finally came across a situation that made him nervous.

“Oh,” You let out a heavy breath, completely caught off guard by the direction of the conversation.

“I always knew that this was what I wanted, to marry you.” He spoke again, “I honestly thought I’d ask in a different way. Probably at the beach or back at home on the ranch. But I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.”

You already knew the answer to his unasked question. It was always going to be yes. “You haven’t asked me a question, Jake.”

He laughed and rolled off the couch before kneeling in front of you. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Will you (y/f/n) (y/l/n) marry me?” The tone in his voice and the smile on his face were more confident than a moment ago. He knew the answer. You would haven’t have pushed him to ask the question if you were going to say no.

A giggle escaped your lips as you nodded your head, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

He pulled back, still smiling down at you. “You haven’t answered my question.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling, as he turned your statement around on you.

“Yes, a million times, yes.”

He smiled, thrilled with your answer and satisfied he could turn your sarcastic response back on you. He closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you breathlessly.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far - thank you so so so much for reading! My Masterlist can be found here. All work is also available on AO3

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farfromstrange · 2 years

Text

Useless | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Mental illness can be a cruel bitch sometimes. Thankfully, Matt Murdock is patient and he always takes care of you, even when you try to shut him out.

Warnings: ANGST, emotional hurt/comfort, Mental Health Episode, allusions to self-harm and suicidal thoughts, post Season 3 (spoilers ahead), not proofread

A/n: to anyone following me, you already know why this is being posted. I wrote this while I was depressed. I hope it helps some of you. I won’t say any more because there’s no words to be said about this. It’s sad but there’s comfort in the end and some wisdom I’ve gathered. You’re welcome!

I’ve put whatever I have left to post into the queue. I’m going to bed now. I wanted to post this beforehand because I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished for the first time in a while. I’ll see you soon, but probably not tomorrow… like I said, baby steps. My profile’s been busy enough for today and me too, for that matter. Take care of yourselves and please, if you ever feel down, don’t hesitate to talk to someone!

He knocks three times. He has a key, so he doesn’t have to knock, but he does, and after that he even rings the doorbell, but you can’t bring yourself up to get off the cold bathroom floor.

“Sweetheart,” his gentle voice rings out. There’s a small thud, it sounds hollow and quieter than his insistent knocks just a moment ago. His forehead collides with the wood of the front door and the room falls silent. “I can hear your heartbeat, y’know, so I know you’re not dead, but it’s still distressing to not hear from you for days,” he says. “I’m gonna open the door now.”

He finds you in the bathtub, but there is no water and you’re still wearing your pajamas from two days ago. You’re dry, so you haven’t showered with your clothes on, and overall it seems as if you’re just using the bathtub as a makeshift bed rather than an attempt to cool yourself to death.

Matt sighs deeply. “You know how worried I was?”

Your mouth is dry, your head fuzzy and you can’t possibly speak with your throat this tight.

Control is a fragile concept. You might be in control of your life for one second, and then the next everything's falling apart. Your kind descends into a downward spiral and once you’re going down, breaking out seems like an impossible task to do.

It’s times like these where life feels like it’s just happening to you and you have to sit back and endure it. You physically can’t take the reins back, no matter how hard you try. You’re paralyzed. It’s your head that’s screaming for you to act, but all you can do is sit back and watch in horror as you drive yourself off the road.

“You’ve been shutting people out again, haven’t you?” He rhetorically asks. “Because when I asked your friends, they said they haven’t seen you in days either, they’ve just read your texts, and they were short and snappy and that’s not like you, baby. Or it is, but only when it’s getting bad again. I was afraid this might have happened, I just didn’t want to accept it until I couldn’t bear it anymore. I had to check up on you. Glad I followed my gut.” He says the last part under his breath, and the relief mixes with the worry in an expression that makes you want to throw up. It’s sickening how much he cares, and the world doesn’t deserve him the same way you feel like you don’t.

The truth passes right by you. All you can think about is what you keep telling yourself. You’re useless, worthless, a nuisance and everyone hates you, so you need to erase yourself from the narrative to make the world slow down and make everyone just shut up. Even now you want Matt to shut up because his voice is like the sound of a million needles dropping on the floor of a hollow room all at once.

The worst part is, you know you should feel guilty for caving in on yourself but you can’t feel anything but this nagging feeling of anger and frustration eating away at your heart. Even his voice makes your fists clench. At least the deafening quiet has kept your nerves from fading into nothing and triggering that toe-curling feeling of overstimulating that sits right at the top of your brain and makes every last muscle twitch in a way that causes anger to seep from your pores, he can smell it.

He can hear it in your heart and your breathing too, he knows you’re not okay, and he knows his constant questioning only makes the fire that is burning you alive worse. It’s been like this before and it will continue happening, he knows. He knows that and he accepts you with all of your flaws and all the problems you might have. He loves you, why should he leave you for something that’s not even your fault? You haven’t quite grasped the concept of his devotion for you yet, but he’s determined to prove it to you.

He kneels next to the bathtub, shedding his suit jacket along the way and placed his chin on his forearms as he leans forward. His glasses land on the floor and his smile is so lopsided, it makes you frown for a second. He’s trying his hardest to make you smile with the way his sightless brown eyes try to find yours, and his teeth glisten in the bathroom light as he grins at you.

“What is it this time?” He doesn’t question your behavior, he just wants to understand. He knows you better than anyone else, after all.

You let out a prolonged breath. Even his voice has you on edge, but you suppose it could be worse. He’s not as annoying as your own voice when you answer, “Life.”

You sound so drained, his features soften even more and he reaches out to brush the greasy hair out of your face. There is wine in your breath, his nose picks up on that instantly, and you desperately need a shower, but he doesn’t tell you that because he knows you already know that. He’d never judge you for it. He’s happy as long as you’re alive, the rest can be figured out at a later time.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“Lightly buzzed,” you say.

The alcohol was supposed to take the edge off, but it’s only made you more nervous.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“No. I need the world to be fucking quiet, that’s what I need.”

You flinch at your own tone, but he doesn’t seem fazed at your snappy nature. You swear it’s not personal. You would have apologized a million times if you hadn’t been so tired, and he really doesn’t seem to mind. He simply nods, acknowledging your wish.

“Okay,” he says. “Can I take you to bed then, at least? Your back probably hurts. How long have you been here?”

Your eyes flutter closed. “This morning,” you tell him.

He sighs wearily. “Of course, you have. Can I take you to bed, sweetheart, please? I’ll make sure you’re properly compressed so you won’t get triggered by new sensations, I promise, just… let me do this for you. The bathtub is no place to cry, you’ve told me that.”

You did, once.

And you couldn’t possibly protest, even if you tried. Your back does hurt and you’re more tired than usual. You haven’t required this much sleep in a while, but your mind and body are both exhausted and you feel as if you’re going to faint if you keep staring at the white bathroom tiles. Matt’s presence has knocked some sense back into you, bringing reality to the forefront, but the alcohol and shed tears keep your mind fuzzy to the point you’re not sure if you can feel your legs.

Matt senses your hesitation. Ever the caring boyfriend, he reaches his arms out to lift you out of the tub. “C’mon,” he says.

“Why aren’t you angry?” your voice cracks as you ask the dreaded question.

He has you up in his arms in an instant. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

His lips press to your temple, a silent answer as he carries you into your still-dark bedroom.

“Matt,” you try again, but he stops you.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says, wrapping your fragile body in blankets and mountains of pillows. “It’s okay to feel like shit sometimes, and if you need to shut people out to feel better, that’s okay too, just try telling them how you feel before you disappear or they might start thinking you hurt yourself.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

He swallows hard at the emphasis. “I know, sweetheart, but it’s hard for the people who love you to differentiate.”

You pout, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “don’t say that. It’s not your fault. Here, scoot over.”

He takes off his shoes and the rest of his clothes until he’s left in his boxers. You do as you’re told and let him into bed with you.

“You want to cuddle or is that too much?” he asks.

Considering your skin feels hot and on fire while your flesh is freezing, your heart contracting in pure agony at even the thought of being touched, you shy away and shake your head, the tears finally starting to flow. He smells the salt in the air, mixing with the salt of your sweat.

You hide your face in the pillow. The sob that passes your lips sounds broken. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you admit. “Everything just… sucks.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I wish I could help you.” He doesn’t touch you. He respects your boundaries.

You shiver, curling further into the pillows. His warmth is there, but his hands aren’t. Still, it’s enough to make your body vibrate with the heaviest sob you’ve let out in a while. He wants nothing more than to hug you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits by your side and lets you cry it out in the company of someone who understands how you feel because he has them too, the bad episodes, the times he just wants to shut everyone out and sleep in his bathtub. It’s because of that he isn’t angry or upset with you for doing what your mind thought to be right at the moment. He understands better than anyone else ever could, and it somehow makes the tears flow even faster and harder to the point you can’t help it anymore. You ignore the smoldering fire in your chest and curl around his arm; it’s all you can do without breaking apart, but you need him while not needing him, and a touch you can control is better than something forced on you. His pulse drums against your fingers resting around his wrist and it manages to calm your own in the process.

“I want a different brain,” you eventually choke out. “It’s not fair God gave me the messed up one. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be me. I just want to be someone else, just for today.”

The human psyche is treacherous and easily turns your entire mindset against you.

He sighs, reaching up to pat your hair. “I’m sorry,” it’s all he knows how to say. He’s sorry that you feel this way, that you feel guilty for being you, and that there is nothing he can say or do that would make the monster shut up.

His presence has to somehow suffice, telling you you’re not alone anymore and that you’re not the failure you make yourself out to be. He helps you heal while at the same time, he makes you better. You hate him for being so kind, for making you love him so deeply you can’t possibly hate him. It’s confusing, all of this, your heart and your feelings, but most importantly your thoughts.

The tears die down eventually, your tear ducts empty and your mind and body tired from screaming at each other. Your hold has tightened around his arm, your eyes squeezed shut and the occasional sobs are all that are left from the unplanned breakdown.

Matt still has his hand in your hair, brushing through it until your heartbeat has slowed and you can breathe again.

You feel obligated to apologize. “I’m sorry,” you say. Of course, he shuts you down.

“It’s not your fault,” he reminds you. “And I’m always going to be here to tell you that. I love you, sweetheart, and you’re worthy of my love. You’re worthy of all of my love. It’s okay to be depressed, it’s okay to take what you need and it’s more than okay to take a break.”

“Then why do I feel so useless? It’s been like this for a year now and I can’t… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Everyone reaches their breaking point eventually. I did, back when I was still living in the church basement. But I crawled my way back out of hell. You know how long it took me, so why put yourself down for taking your time now?”

He makes a valid point, which is infuriating. You whimper. “I hate that I love you so much.”

He chuckles. “Right now you do, tomorrow you won’t.”

“I know.” Your voice cracks again. “God, I’m so sorry. My head’s a mess.”

He leans over to kiss your hair again. “Well, thank God I’m here now to take care of you,” he says. “Tomorrow, I’ll clean up your apartment and make sure you eat something. You don’t have to shower if you don’t feel ready, but it might help. But we’ll see that tomorrow, okay? For now, I want you to rest. I’m right here if you need me.”

The sleep catches up with you shortly after he’s done talking, his hand scratching your scalp while he whispers Sweet nothings into the night, distracting you from the hellish thoughts your mind has conjured up for you. It’s just you and him, his voice a lullaby that you’ve grown accustomed to, and with Matt by your side, you finally fight your way into a dreamless sleep.

He’s your solace, your lifeline, your lifesaver, and he’s always there, even when you don’t ask him to. He’s the comfort you need, your common sense and the sun that lights up your darkest days. Without him, you’re sure you would have been lost, swallowed by the tide of severe mental illness and the cruelty that is life itself.

You love him and he loves you, the perfect pair, both damaged but so good to each other, the bad matters a little less when you’re together.

#matt murdock #tw: depressive episode #matt murdock x reader #gender neutral reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #mental illness #reader insert #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #matt murdock fluff #it’s queue bitches

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 2 years

Text

Language Barrier (Yandere male x reader) P10

tw: gore, insects, violence, general yandere shenanigans

Minors n ageless blogs will be blocked

boring chapter todays guys, i just neeeded a filler chapter to pace it out before it gets to the phase two excitement major plot point

short chaptet too

as always, no prfoofread <3 enjoyyy

masterlist

part 1, part 9, part 11

Frustrated, you gave the side of this mammoth a kick. It's been ten minutes and you couldn't make the smallest incision into its' belly, or one of its segments. It seems impossible for 2718 to cause such a massive slit, from it's head down to its' anal legs.

You tried everything, from sawing it, dragging the blade vertically, horizontally, to outright violently stabbing it, but his stupid daggers wouldn't pierce through the tough, leathery yet velvety exterior. You must admit, if you weren't covered in slimy insect goo and your dried blood, you would have liked the feeling of its' exoskeleton- it would have made a great seat cover.

The man crouched down and wrapped his arms around your waist. Staring deep into your eyes with a raised eyebrow. A while later, he started muttering something and you felt relief, relaxed. You let go of the dagger handle, allowing the weapon to drop next to his feet.

He stood back up, lifting you along with him. Your companion took his first few steps away from the creature, toward the main entrance.

You understood what he was doing, so you tore away from the comfort and squirmed in his arms. Leaving him no choice but to either restrain you telekinetically or let you go. You were grateful that he chose the latter, gently lowering you down to the ground.

You ran to the site where you were working on, you picked up the dagger and began driving the blade against the shell. But it simply bounced off every single time you struck it, was the blade itself dull? To blunt to make such a cut anymore?

You were proven wrong when 2718 nonchalantly walked up next to you, wielded his own, identical dagger. He pulled his arm back before plunging his weapon into the insect at breakneck speeds.

Your jaw was left hanging in shock when he managed to thrust his hand in too, all the way up to his elbow. He looked at you and fluttered his free hand, gesturing you to take multiple steps back. You did, you even take ten extra to make sure you won't be taking a viscera shower.

He planted his foot firmly onto the ground before sliding his arm across. It must be taking up a lot of his energy because he was grunting and grinding his teeth.

Black fluids came pouring out like a waterfall, splashing onto him and unfortunately onto you too.

You sputtered and desperately tried to swipe the yuck off your eyes.

You heard rapid footfalls before feeling both of 2718's large hands cup your face. Your grip now transferred onto his wrists, trying to pull them away from you, but he remains immovable. The man used his thumbs to wipe the gunk away from your eyelids, slowly and skillfully freeing them. He seems to be using a special technique of some sort. You believe that his supernatural powers may also be at play here.

You calmed down as soon as you can open your eyes and see his messy face, concentrating on removing the rest of its goop from your mien.

You don't want to do this anymore. You're sleep deprived, exhausted and filthy. How much longer does the translator need?

Once he's done, he stood up straight and flicked the excess fluids away from his hands. 2718 observed you intensely, you fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare.

He grabbed your hand and lead you back into the cabin, you're not sure why.

The translator is still on the ground, eyes closed. But one of the insect carcasses were half eaten. All the silver liquid is now localized to the general area where the translator is lying. There still is a gaping wound to her side, looks like she didn't get to that yet.

He headed straight into the kitchen. Leaving you alone in the living room.

The door to the bathroom opened by itself though. He's giving you permission to clean yourself up.

"Damn, shut that thing up..." She groaned, bringing a hand up to her head.

You asked what she was referring to.

"It's coming from you, it's so loud." Said the translator as she plugging a finger into her ear. She pried an eye open. "I know you're a little deaf, but this is ridiculous. Surely, you can hear yourself, right?"

You were about to press what she meant about that until you heard a faint growl from your stomach.

Oh. It must have been like a live orchestra for 2718 then.

2718 must be preparing something for you to eat. You heard him chop something up on his wooden chopping board, the sink remains turned on as fresh water flows through it.

You don't think you've eaten for 43 hours now. That is almost two whole earth days!

You went into the bathroom to freshen yourself up a bit. Maybe have a change of clothes too.

You washed your hands and arms in the sink, letting the grime float away and spiral into the drain.

You splashed water multiple times onto your face. When you think that you're clean enough, you proceeded to drink from the tap. Not realizing how thirsty you were earlier.

You turned the tap off when you're done, you used the back of your palm to wipe away any stray water droplets. You looked around to see that you made a mess in the bathroom, there were numerous puddles everywhere.

You were about to enter the tub, but 2718 called you by that pet name. He resorted to whistling and snapping his fingers when you didn't respond immediately.

You left the bathroom, to be greeted with the sight of 2718 holding out a plate with delicious smelling steam coming out of it. He's noticeably cleaner than before, but still covered in insect guts. Upon seeing you, he placed the dish on the coffee table. As the dining table and its' chairs were destroyed from the collision.

You went ahead to check it out. It's a plate filled with...weird lobster-like shellfish and slices of meat, sauteed with various root vegetables. It was seasoned well with spices and sauces. Your mouth waters at the sight of your meal.

He crouched down and picked one of the shellfish up, thankfully his hands are sparkling clean. 2718 proceeds to de-shell it, gather plump, white and red meat in his hands. He brought it up to your lips.

You gladly accepted it, eagerly chewing it to get some nutrients in your system again. It was heavenly. Buttery, fragrant, fresh and delightfully tasty.

You tried to grab another one with your bare hands, but 2718 stopped you. He did it for you instead.

You assume that he doesn't want you to burn yourself. Because everything he picks up with his hand is initially steaming excessively like a geyser, but it was at the perfect temperature when it reaches your lips. Not too cold, not too hot. Just perfect.

You didn't care what it could possibly be, all you knew is his cooking right now is fit to serve the gods and you'll be damned if you let any go to waste.

He spent the next half an hour handfeeding you, tampering with the temperature so that it doesn't hurt you or irk you.

He smiled, seeing you chow down on his food without a care in the world. With all the 'shellfish' deshelled and the rest cooled down to an appropriate temperature, he stood back up and returned into the kitchen.

You went ahead and helped yourself to the rest of the plate, picking up each chunk and placing them in your mouth. Contently chewing on it, savoring each bite.

"You know you're eating a worm, right?"

You paused, holding a piece of orange vegetable in your hand. What?

"Doesn't it look familiar?" She grabbed one of the insects by its' neck and hoisted it up for you to see.

It does. You were eating a segment of it. Is that also why he didn't want you to touch the shell? Perhaps the velvety texture would have immediately given it away.

But how can a creature so disgusting taste so good when cooked?! It doesn't matter, it hasn't kill you yet. So why stop eating it? In the end, your hunger overpowered your revulsion.

She gnawed off her own less palatable meal. Allowing her body to absorb the nutrients in order to heal.

The man came back with a teacup, not filled with broth, not filled with tea. But filled with a teal blue, translucent orb. It jiggles for every step he takes.

Jelly? You looked to the translator for context. She looked away.

You looked back to see that 2718 is sending her a nasty look.

He handed you a nice little metal spoon. The man stayed by your side to watch you eat.

You scooped a piece out, it has the consistency of hard jelly. It doesn't have a smell, but the steam fogging up your spoon tells you that this dish is enjoyed hot.

You hesitantly brought it to your mouth. Closing your eyes as you chew.

...It's the texture and the taste of a hard boiled egg. Specifically, the whites of it. It isn't repulsive per se, but it was quite bland. You don't mind it, maybe if he added a little salt and pepper it would have been tastier.

He walked away with the empty dish, straight into the kitchen to wash it.

"You're eating its' egg." She brought up the insect again. "The mother's egg, I mean."

You froze a bit. Unsure to feel disgusted this time.

"Keep eating it! He's going to think I did something to you and I'm going to get kicked in the guts again!" Hissed the translator.

You quickly brushed the thought away and enjoyed your... 'dessert' as normally as you could.

There wasn't any yolk no matter how far you dug in with your spoon.

Several hours pass, 2718 turned on the tv to occupy you. He initially tried to bring you to the bedroom so you would sleep on his bed, but you refused to. So he lets you stay in the ruined living room with the translator as he cleaned the mother up.

You yawn, struggling to stay awake. The translator's external wounds are all patched up by now. You're not sure about what's going on inside her, she seems normal enough to defend herself.

She sat on the floor, next to the couch. You asked if she wanted to sit on the couch with you.

"No thanks. He's going to get pissy about it." She gestured to the man outside, packing the mother into individual sacks.

You ask if she has any idea what he's doing.

"I bet he's going to sell them. Don't know how much they're worth, but they're really high in calories and it's fucking hard to kill. So it should fetch him a pretty penny."

You rubbed your chin. If he's going to sell them, it's either he is going to sell it to his visitors. Or travel all the way to the marketplace.

"He's going to bring you with him so..." She scratched the back of her head. "I hope he's buying a train ticket this time."

You said that he has a glass blowing room. Perhaps he could make the necessary teleporters for the three of you.

She didn't give you a reply.

You asked about her health.

"Dandy. I'll be fine on my own. I'm more worried about you, though. You have bags for days." She pointed under your eyes.

You yawned, slouching into the couch.

"I'm going to make a move."

You ask her, where to?

"I doubt your friend wants me in his sights. I think I'll just camp a couple miles away from here."

Wasn't her tent broken?

"Yeah it is." She bitterly stated. The translator didn't add to the conversation further.

She began to stand up, holding onto the couch for support. You eyed her shoes, her toes are exposed. She's bound to get some nasty scrapes and scratches.

You offered her your old pair of shoes, since 2718 bought you new ones.

"It's not my size. Thanks, though."

The translator stretched herself, pushing her arms in the air and letting her joints pop.

You told her that you wished you could have helped her more.

"Hey, you helped me out a lot. You lent me 21 gold coins and that is a lot of money here." She patted you firmly on the shoulders.

Speaking of money, You asked how how much were the coins worth.

She scratched her head.

"Assuming the first Large Hadron Collider was built around 2006-2009 in your timeline... each gold coin is equivalent to 50USD in the mid 2010's. The silver ones are worth 10USD each, a copper coin is like... a dollar. These are estimates. I don't know what year or country were you pulled from, so I don't know your inflation rates or currency."

50 dollars... she was holding the equivalent of a thousand dollars and fifty in cash. No wonder a gold coin could buy you three sets of clothes.

You wonder where 2718 keeps his money.

"I'm leaving." She bid you goodbye before slinging her backpack onto her shoulder. You watched her step outside to his porch, avoiding the jagged, broken wood.

You scrambled to catch up to her. She spoke to the man from a distance, he stared at her for a few minutes before looking away, continuing to portion the mother into sacks.

"Hey- what the hell are you doing out here?! Get in! He's going to kill me if he sees you trailing behind me!" She half whispered to you, her feet splashing against the inky, liquified guts of the sandipede mother.

You're about to descend the porch, but you stopped when you saw 2718 glaring daggers at the translator. His hand tightly gripping the handle of his own tangible dagger. She raised her hands up to show that she's unarmed.

You took a couple steps backward. Your tired eyes darting between 2718 and the translator. This made him loosen up and eventually lose interest in fighting the woman, he returned to his task at hand.

Watching the translator walk away, leaving a trail of black footprints behind her, gave you a sense of sadness and dread. You're left alone with a man who sees you as a helpless, unintelligent, cripple, incapable of doing the simplest things by your own.

You tore away from her fleeting form and stared at the footprints.

Your eyebrows both raised in surprise when you saw that the sandipede's blood has dried already. Dyeing the sand pitch black.

You sat on the porch, 2718 spared a brief glance at you but deem that you're not in any danger or distress. He went back to work.

You looked around you, zeroing in on patches of sand with dried sandipede viscera.

Using your bare fingers, you dug a hole. It has formed a flaky crust on the ground, but once you broke that weak barrier, you discovered that the inky goo has seeped in much deeper than you expected.

You looked at the footprints.

It should still be here tomorrow.

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