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whytheylosttheirminds · 2 days

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june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous.

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded.

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly.

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket.

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself.

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom.

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed.

You didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support.

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down.

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company.

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder.

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice.

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious.

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms.

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense.

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?”

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.”

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him.

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything, he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.”

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment.

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission.

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close.

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him.

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding.

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault.

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional.

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

#rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #angst #Rafe cameron angst #obx smut #smut #June gloom #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe

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shytastemakerthing · 3 days

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Ooooo I think I’ve noticed this being being a thing across some other fics & HCs and stuff, but would you be willing to do headcanons for Vil with a yuu (where he somehow found out about their feelings) who wouldn’t confess to him about their feelings & tried to get over him because they were worried he’d brush them off as typical paparazzi/fan behavior because he’s so used to it?

Hello and thank you so much for your request! I am sorry that this took so long to get out, school and work have been rather crazy right now XD, I hope you enjoy!

Tw: None

A/N: Reader is stated to be Yuu

It was safe to say that you were not the first person to ever have a crush on the Vil Schoenheit, but you were certainly one who was in his presence more than some of the others

It was only a matter of time before such feelings would develop, especially with how often you two crossed paths, and how often you found yourself in his dorm

But there was absolutely no way that you could tell him such a fact

After all.... who were you compared to him?

He was a world famous celebrity, top-class model, a highly skilled actor

You were just.....nobody

A magic-less nobody from another world who didn't even belong to this world, especially the one that he lived in

If you told him, the chances were high that he would simply see this as some joke, or the typical fan behavior that he is quite used too, and there was no way that you would ruin the friendship that the both of you had just because of how you felt

Perhaps that is why you started to put a distance between the both of you

Last minute cancellations of study plans, doing your skincare at Ramshackle, stops at his club becoming less and less frequent, the works. Anything that would work a gradual decline in your time around him

In hopes that these feelings would soon diminish, no matter how it hurt

Oh, but a follow you were to not think that Vil would certainly take notice

At first, he didn't think much of it. He knew that Crowley, the worthless and lazy headmaster that he was, kept you rather busy. Not to mention that gremlin cat of yours followed by your first-year friends

But then more suspicions arose... as if you were actually actively avoiding him

Now he really didn't know how to feel about that

It wasn't until several key points were stated by Rook (stalker), when Vil began to piece it all together

Especially noticing how empty his heart had been feeling, how lonely, he felt when you weren't at his side

Why wouldn't you have just come to him about such feelings? How could he turn you down? Did you think so little of yourself? Perhaps you did, and he would certainly need to correct that

Which is probably what led him to the steps of Ramshackle, actually compiling each and every ounce of strength that he had to actually dome to the rundown dorm to see you, standing straight and knocking on the door.... honestly hoping that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt

"You should never hide your feelings from me, Leibling. Especially if you do not know if they are reciprocated or not. Hm? Well, it would seem that this is my confession to you. Will you accept?"

Have a wonderful day/night!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #twst imagines #vil shoenheit x reader #twst vil #vil x reader #twst vil x reader #twst vil schoenheit x reader #twst vil schoenheit #shy writes #shy answers #requests closed #matchups closed

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ohtobeleah · 1 day

Text

I've had a thought in my mind for a few days. A thought where, in Days of Future Past…When Logan goes to the school looking for Chalres and is met by a younger version of Beast. (Hank)

What if it wasn't Beast that met him at the door, but you? A younger version of yourself. You…who Logan lost in the war against the Sentinels.

You…another mutant who's genetic make up doesn't allowed for aging. Your regeneration matches Logans. Only you aren't made of Adamantium like he is. You heal others. You study every branch of science there is to devour and yet the knowledge you process still isn't enough.

“Y/n?” Its funny how Charles never mentioned it would be you who looked after him during his darkest days. And its crazy how you look exactly the same as you did so many years into the future. “You’re—you’re alright.”

“How do you know my name?” You frown with confusion. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I'm here to see the professor,” Logan tries to stay focused. But the last time he saw you? You had died in his arms. “What happened to the school?”

“Are you a parent? Because the schools been closed for a long time, sir.”

Logans standing face to face with the woman he loves, the woman he lost. Only you don't know who he is. And you're making it incredible hard for him to stay on task.

“Id wanna hope not,” Logan jokes with himself for a second, but the reality was he'd not only lost you—but your daughter too. He never did get to meet her before they took you from him. “I need to see the professor.” Logan pushes his way through, knowing that if he didn't stay committed to his task, that he might take the chance to stay in the past with you forever.

“Theres no professor here!” You shout after the man who's just barreled his way into the rundown school for gifted students. “Listen asshat, ill give you to the count of three to leave or else I'll—” But you don't get to finish your sentence.

“Look lady,” Logan growls, interupting your threat as he turned to fade you. He missed you so fucking much. “You and I are gonna get along really well one day,” He knows you'll be fine. Logan knows a quick cross to the nose will knock you down for a second or two. So with one fluid motion, he does just that. And for what it's worth, Logan tries to keep a pretty stick policy on hitting women. But once you bring mutant DNA into the picture, added with the fact he knows you handle yourself well enough to have him working up a sweat? Whats a guy supposed to do. “You just don't know it yet.”

“Fuck!” You shout as you stumble back incoherently dazed and confused.

“Professor!?” Logan turns nonchalantly, knowing you'll recover quickly. He races up the stairs, taking two, sometimes three at a time.

Only for you to race after him, completely set on beating the absolute crap outta this guy who's let himself into your home.

“Fuckface,” You shout after Logan as you leg it after him down the hall. “Hey! if you don't leave right this second I'm gonna have to ask him to ask you to leave.”

“Ask who?” Logan asks, looking around until he's met with a powerful force of blue rage. Sending him back down the stairs.

“Him.” You smiled, happily watching Hank interact with his new chew toy until Charles ultimately interrupted the fun.

#logan wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #x men fanfiction #days of future past #james logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #hank mccoy #charles xavier

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dropsnectar · 2 days

Text

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART THREE

This is a longer part than the rest, but its all necessary dialogue so it should be fine. More fluffy and romance than smut, BUT!! Their will be smut in the next section! I know I said this will only be 4 parts, but it may actually be more like 5 or 6. Anyway, hope you like!

So. You were starting to learn that using large batches of magic back to back weren't ideal for a young witch's health. It seemed like you might have overdone it, as when you woke you found you had been asleep for TWO WHOLE DAYS. So. If you were going to do magic, it looked like you were going to have to pace yourself, or perhaps use LESS magic.

You put yourself to learning more about witchcraft. The thing was, your grandmother's books didn't really go into the basics, and as witches were so rare, information was hard to find. Of course, the internet was full of supposed witch spells, or frameworks, but it was like throwing dice. Some spells didn't work. Some spells took up WAY too much energy. Some were just… fine? But not what you needed.

Next you checked out forum sites. Maybe you could find a community through that way? But all you found were psychics and tarot readers. Nice people, but not what you needed.

Whelp. Maybe you needed to look at the issue differently. The environment used to be a beautiful, thriving area. What had changed between now and then? In order to understand a magic ecosystem, you had to understand ecosystems. So, for the rest of the week you busied yourself with ecology study. It was turning out that this project you had adopted on a whim would need a lot more time and breadth of knowledge then you originally thought.

***

When you met with Rena, under Lyith’s friendly gaze, you found that the magic you had cast hadn't waned at all. The flowers had grown beautifully and continued to give magic nectar that created the best honey. Rena was beside herself. “The elders of the hive say they haven't had honey of this quality since they were children! You are really onto something here, little one.”

Rena had now gotten in the habit of calling you little one. Sure, as a Bee-man she was slightly taller than you, but not by much. Also the constant fluttering and floating didn't help.

“You've been given permission to test your magic on our other gardens as well. As long as we are careful and continue with caution!” Rena babbled. You gave her a small smile and felt Lyiths arm on your shoulder. He laid his head on your other shoulder, leaning his fuzzy head against yours.

“Whats wrong?”

You wiggled a little. “I'm just having a hard time brainstorming how to do this. I know I said I'd help you guys, but I might not be able to use as much magic as last time. To be honest, I don't really know much about my mana and my limits…” you explained your situation. Expecting there to be disappointment, you were surprised to find none.

“I can’t help but think… How long will this last? One spell isn’t going to cut it for that long. I want to create something that will last for you guys, but that might take a while… and doing just this took all the mana I had. I want to do better. But I don’t want to hurt myself either, especially when I don’t know how this could affect my health in the long run…” The bee-men seemed to be catching on.

“Of course, little one. We wouldn't want you to harm yourself.”

Lyith also popped up, his voice almost in your ear.

“Us Bee-men also have something like mana. Our magic is not never ending. We would have fixed this situation ourselves if it was.”

Rena reached forward and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring pat. “We don't have to do anything today. We can commence whenever you'd like. Our flowers have spread out beautifully and even this is enough.”

You frowned.

“I may have to do this every spring. Or even redo it in the summer…”

“You don’t owe us anything. You are trying your best to do us a kindness. And our hive knows and sees that. We are beyond grateful to you… Its… We’ve needed…We are truly grateful.” His expression fell at the mention of his hive, his antennas drooping. Rena moved forward and held Lyith, a sad expression on her own face.

There was a pause in conversation that grew somewhat awkward.

How do I make this better? You tried to brainstorm, but only one thing came to mind.

You went over and gave the both of them a big bear hug. It was a tense one, but you tried to adjust your emotions, instead concentrating on how fond you had grown of the two. You tried to shout it as loud as you could through your brain at them.

This seemed to break the spell, as Rena started to laugh. Lyith looked at you affectionately.

“I know we haven't known each other long, but I just want to say, you can count on me. If you ever need to talk about anything let me know. I'll listen.”

Rena and Lyith hummed in response, returning your group hug with a long squeeze.

Long hugs. The favorite actions of a Bee-men.

After some quiet reassurances, the two of you decided to idle while the two foraged on the edge of the Wood. You walked with them and asked them as many questions you could think of. How old were they? Were they able to do other magics? You had thought Bee-men to be isolated. How come they knew so much about human culture?

Lyith was the one who answered you most of the time. It seemed that bee-man typically lived double the life of a human, with Rena and Lyith being about 45, and 51, Lyith being the oldest. They were in the same season of life as you though!

Bee-man could do some other magics(they didn't go much into what), but they specialized in making their magical honey, which fortified the health and wellbeing of a Bee-men.

They didn’t say it outright but it seemed like the dip in magic had affected the nutrition of their food source. They kept their own bees and shared honey, but it still wasn't enough, so they had ventured out into human society to buy fruit when it was necessary. They also did trade with neighboring beast-men, the Wolfmen being happy to share their fruit for their Bee’s wax waste. I

“What exactly do you guys do for fun though?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lyith smiled. “Late night flying is fun.”

Rena snorted. “You mean late night spying. Lyith has a habit of looking through people's windows.”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at Rena. “If they did not want to be seen they would have drawn the curtains. It's not strange, I am just curious about human life is all.”

Rena reached forward and pinched Lyiths nose. “Poor thing. So bored he must make mischief.”

You looked at Lyith with surprise. His big eyes grew in concern and he pouted at you.

“You are not going to tease me too are you? I promise, I never see anything scandalous. I'm a good little bee.” He fluttered his eyes at you.

You giggled and pushed his shoulder.

“As long as you're not spying on me I guess it's harmless.”

Lyiths expression shifted to one of his dopey smiles. It always surprised you how innocent he could look despite his size. Was it maybe…

“So… I may have read that you guys are telepathic right?”

Renas face changed into a smirk.

“Yes, and?”

“ Well, have you guys ever… used your powers on me?”

Rena snorted. Lyith gave you an unreadable expression. “We Bee-man are very particular about sharing our heads outside of our hives. But no. We haven't done anything to you if that's what you meant…”

Oh. He was pouting now.

“No! Thats not what I meant! I just… i feel so comfortable around you guys it's almost supernatural. I just. Idk. Wanted to know. Please I didn't mean anything by it!”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at you and Rena continued to seem amused. You felt helpless and got a bit upset with yourself. You did your best to calm yourself down but you were upset. You had so few friends here and you were afraid you blew it. A wave of loneliness swept through you.

Lyith was watching you the whole time, before sighing. “All will be forgiven if you give us some of those fruit tarts you made yesterday.”

You looked at him, shocked.

“I thought you said you didn't spy on me!”

“I wasn't spying, I just happened to be foraging by the window, and smelled something amazing. It was all incidental.”

“There's sugar in the crust. Won’t your tummy get upset?”

He just smiled. Rena laughed. “He named his price. For offending us, we must get fruit tarts.”

Finally feeling better, the three of you walked(they let you walk!!!) Back to your home. You served them up your tarts, when finally the questions started coming about you. Why did you move here? Do you have any siblings? What were you like as a child?

This went on until dinner time, at which point you decided to shoo your new friends away. “ I'll be back to do the flowers tomorrow. We… we will see what I can do.” You admitted. The two of them smiled at you, hugging you tight for a good three minutes. They always lingered, nuzzling your face and hair, as if they were getting a whiff of you. You could smell their own perfume and tried not to think too much. Their goodbyes always felt so intimate.

Rena decided to pepper your face in kisses before they left. Lyith just rolled his eyes at her. When they drew apart you felt empty, like some piece of you was going with them.

***

As always, Lyith picked you up that morning. This time, you made sure to bring a scarf and hat, alongside emergency snacks in your bag. Where he was taking you next was a little longer of a trip, a whole ten minutes to the usual six. That was a long time when you were hurtling through the air.

You were surprised to drop into a small crowd. There were ten Bee-men present besides Rena, who seemed to be communicating silently with them. The air was full of bee noises; humming, purring, the fluttering of wings. The air smelled amazingly fresh, floral and syrupy. It was an odd smell, but it seemed to put you at ease somehow. And maybe a bit peckish.

A Beeman a whole foot and a half taller then Rena fluttered towards you. They bowed, of which you awkwardly returned before they reached forward and took your hand gently. Lyith started,

“This is Elder Bisou. He is the eldest of our hive. He is showing you respect.”

Elder Bisou smiled at you. “Little Witch, I welcome you to our territory. My human is a bit… unused. Please receive our thanks for your efforts.” He took your hand and leaned down so that it met his temple. You could feel the rush of his magic, like your mind was a fish bowl and he was putting a gentle hand on the glass. You could feel his warmth, his deep gratitude through it.

Your back straightened and you felt water prick your eyelids. You gave him a slow nod, becoming acutely aware just how serious this whole situation actually was. Rena and Lyith had been dancing around it, but the Bee-men must be slowly starving to death. That was the only explanation for the depths of what you had felt.

“I will do my best.” Was all you could reply.

Lyith, acting as your translator, took you to each Bee-men he could and introduced you. It seemed that some of the elders, as well as some of those who had free time had come to watch the “little witch” work. Most took your hand gently, and sent you a ghost of what their emotions were. There was a sort of film around the emotions, a barrier of sorts. Whether this was on purpose so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed, or just how their telepathy worked, you couldn't tell.

You did your best to not let your nerves get to you as you dissected the sections of the field where you would be doing your experiments. You didn’t know how these particular flowers would take to your spell, so it was still best to be cautious. The bee-men looked on with interest.

You did your chants in a loud booming fashion, and channeled in as elegant a fashion as you could. Like always, the magic came, and the spell did its work. These flowers were different, like rainbow colored lavender. Rather than letting the magic gush through you, you let it gently trickle out, pacing yourself. When the deeds were done, you still felt sore, and you still held a headache in your temple, but there was no nausea, so growth!

Once you were done with your work, there was a large excited buzzing throughout the forest. There was clapping, dancing, stomping of feet, pumping of many hands, whoops from Rena and Lyith. One Bee, a worker named Aidenn held a small wooden instrument in his hands and started to play. This triggered a chorus from the Bee-men. There was a harmonizing among the crowd and they started to circle each other, laughing and dancing. A circle of flying, spinning Bee-men formed.

Rena grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto her shoulder before joining in the circle of the dance. You giggled as you spun, feeling the giddiness in the air like it was laughing gas. That same pressure filled your mind and a part of your heart started to soar. It was intimate, but not stifling and you loved feeling so close to everyone.

You lifted your hands and, feeling in the spirit, decided to hum along. At some point Rena had taken you in her arms and held you close as they continued to fly in a circle, spinning and perrying, and switching. It was similar to square dancing, where there was a pattern to it.

At one point, the tune changed and Lyith swooped down from above and grabbed you out of Rena’s arms. She snorted at him but let it happen, joining hands with another passing Bee-men. When Lyith gathered you in his arms, he cradled you as close as possible, surprising you. One hand was gripping firmly around your waist and the other crushing you to him. He landed on the ground, and the rest of the bee-men followed, causing something of a ballroom dance.

“You did wonderfully today.” He breathed in your ear, causing them to redden. You pulled yourself back a bit to see his face and he was looking at you with such pride and affection it felt like a weight crushing your chest. You moved your hands from his shoulders to reach his own hands. You were shaky, but you wanted to return his feelings somehow. His palms were soft.

This caused him to laugh, a purring sort of trill coming from his throat. You couldn’t help a silly grin form on your face.

“I’m glad you came to my garden.” Was all you could think to say.

He looked at you, with those big black eyes, then reached forward and kissed you on the lips. It was only a peck, but you could feel his joy through it.

Something complex within you, a mix of happiness, excitement, hope, all of your feelings rose up into your throat. Unable to find the words to express yourself, you took all of those big heavy emotions, wrapped them all up together and kissed him back, right there, in the middle of your makeshift dance floor.

When you pulled away Lyith looked shocked, his bottom lip hanging open. Adorable as usual.

Rena hollered from the otherside of the gathering, sending out a big whoop. There was laughter, buzzing and an echoing whoop from some of the younger bee-men. Elder Bisou made some clicking sounds, but the sides of his mouth were slightly upturned.

It occurred to you then that you were in the middle of a group of very telepathic monster people. Your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment and you pulled away from Lyith a bit. Your shoes suddenly became very interesting.

Lyith eventually turned your chin back up to face him. He held a small peaceful smile, before bumping his forehead to yours. He didn’t share his emotions but the affection was still there.

After you grew too tired to dance, you took a seat under a tree, munching on a granola bar. Another one of the Bee-men, a younger drone named Haven, made his way to sit next to you.

“I don’t know if it was mentioned, but honey production has picked up enormously since you agreed to help us. I haven’t felt this great in… well ever! Thank you little witch!”

“I’m not little, but thank you for saying so.” You were starting to get a bit lightheaded now, and not from the dancing. It was possible that some of the symptoms of mana sickness were surfacing a little late.

“You are strong! That is true! Even elder Bisou has said he hasn’t met a human or beastman with mana like yours!” Haven turned his voice down to a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret, “Your magic smells so much like flowers, really, its a huge blessing! In fact, I would eat you up if I could!” He laughed as if he had made a joke. He sighed and looked up dreamily at the sky. “Alas, I am saving myself for when we find our queen.” He wrapped his arms around himself, as if to fend off imaginary suitors.

You wrinkled your nose. “Queen? You don’t have a queen? Isn’t that super bad for bees, I mean bee-men?”

Heaven tilted his head at you, reminding you of Lyith.

“Of course. That's why we are all so small and weak.” You stared at him in shock. He put up his hands. “We are doing well though! It's been 20 years since our queen died but we are still here! Oh! There is a hive up north! Any day now, one of their queens' daughters might descend and bless us! Or.. Or we--”

“Little One! You seem like you're getting sick!” Rena Descended from above and put a hand to your forehead.

“You are far too warm! Haven, mind if I take her out of your wings?”

Heaven looked up at Rena, his face a mask of confusion. He eventually gave in though and stood up.

“I should check on Elder Bisou! He might need something!” His voice was flat, obviously fake, but he ran away- flew away with gusto.

Rena took your face into her hands, tilting your head back and forth. Your lightheadedness turned full on dizzy. Rena’s face screwed up in an annoyed expression.

“You overdid it. And after that whole speech about not knowing your limits too..” She gently put a hand on your back and picked you up princess style. You would have been embarrassed, if your brain was functioning properly. Instead your gaze fixed on Rena’s beautiful iridescent wings. The lights were so lovely and they helped ground you. Honestly, everything about Rena was lovely. Well, maybe lovely wasn’t the right word. She was rough around the edges. A tease and a know it all. But she doted on you so, it made you feel a bit overwhelmed. Your gaze shifted from her wings to her lovely nose, pretty sharp for a bee-men.

Rena started conversing with Lyith about you, pointing her jaw and humming. Huh. Rena was actually incredibly attractive. You had known that before. Maybe it was something about how dizzy everything was. The last time you had felt this way she had been kissing you, her textured tongue pushing nectar down your thoat-

“Little One”

Your mind immediately focused. She was using a demanding tone.

“Lyith will take you home. Next time, we will only do one spell at a time.” She leaned forward and placed her cool lips to the side of your mouth. Making you blush. Well your face was already heated so you would have blushed. “I will see you again soon. Rest.” And she was off.

You were in Lyith’s arms again. A place you were starting to get comfortable in. He stared at you for a moment, his lips pursed, then sighed loudly. He held your gaze for a moment.

“I do not like this habit you are forming. You will not get sick again, understand?”

You nodded at him, mind hazy. Sleepy. You were sleepy.

You didn’t register the fly home, only that the coolness felt nice. You were carried from the porch, into the living room, up the stairs, and laid on your bed. You were covered in warm, delicious blankets.

You never saw Lyith leave before you passed out. Probably because he tucked himself in right beside you, the cool air washing over both of you from the open bedroom window.

Part Four

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster #monster x reader #terat0philliac #teratophillia #bee hybrid #bee hybrids #bee hybrid × reader #bee hybrids x reader #monster romance #bee monster #monster fluff #fluff

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hueseok · 7 hours

Text

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, alright? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment.

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.”

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt.

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you.

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours.

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me a reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be far, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect.

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Blue bag,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

It’s the insulin this time. You grab the unopened syringe, rip it out from its packet, insert it to the vial of insulin—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he administers the insulin through your shoulder, a huge and long exhale escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in injecting yourself with insulin, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated.

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you’re his. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh.

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss.

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

thank you for reading! as i live for positive reinforcement, feedback is always appreciated ♡

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #bts #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts drabbles #jungkook drabbles #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #bts x you #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfiction

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chleem · 2 days

Text

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ ps: chapter one soon! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal.

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child.

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer.

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office.

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at?

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues.

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange.

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him.

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place.

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover.

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it.

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing.

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal.

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him.

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well.

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make.

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself.

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease.

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

-------------------------------

word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #actor #actress #fanfic #series #drew starkey x you #fiction #obx #flashing lights #prologue #angst #fake dating #slow burn #enemies to lovers

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inniefulme · 2 days

Text

you're so forgetful !

summary ; in which the skz members are your boyfriend and: you asked them to do something/had something to do but forgot to do it and now you're mad so now they try to apologize!

bf!skz x shorttempered!reader

notes ; my last post got WAY more attention than intended so now i am incredibly worried about finishing the actual thing fast.. here's a little something while you wait teehee (update: i forgot this app even existed WTFF i swear school has been busy please understand)

warnings ; swearing, some sexual jokes at bin and hyune's part but not tm, didn't exactly go throufh everything so might have some spelling/grammar mistakes so i apologize in advance !!!! reader isn't mentioned in the story, lmk if i miss anything <3

bang chan

you probably asked him to defreeze the meat in the fridge when you left to buy groceries and other home needs but he forgot to because he was so engrossed on his computer and even had the time to go live for stays !!!! and he couldn't even take the meat out.. (ik what ur thinking)

you were definitely MAD because you wanted to have a nice dinner with him and you already planned everything out, it was already 10 pm when u got back too :( now you're ignoring him after you scolded him for forgetting

"y/n, please, i'm sorry. i swear i really did forget." is all he could say, he's too confused to think of what to say because he knew he messed up bad time when you're even rejecting his spoilers for the next come back like ??????

he'd be sitting in front of his computer thinking about what could possibly be a way to win you back, he even decided to go live again to ask stays. some said get you something you would like, or maybe just keep saying sorry.

he decided to do the next best thing, keep saying sorry of course!

"y/n, i'm really sorry. please forgive me, please, please?" he begs right in front of you kneeling down as u sat down on the couch completely ignoring his presence while you watched the tv.

he looked so sad at this point, ready to give up as he sat beside you. "i really am.." he pouted, leaning his head against your shoulder. you of course couldn't bare seeing him like that anymore and gave up, patting his head

"it's fine.. stop whining." you said, which chan immediately perked up hearing and looked up at you again. "are you sure? really?" he tries to get your confirmation first.

"yes.. don't worry." you replied, which made him sigh in relief as he placed your hand on his. "i really just, really am sorry. i won't let this happen again okay? even though it was about some meat in the fridge." you laughed, nodding. "promise?"

"promise." he kisses the back of your hand and smiled widely

lee know

genuinely i didn't know what he'd forget to do the most so i just thought of something dumb

and what dumb is it? you asked him to login to your game later so you don't lose you streak of course!

and he still forgot because he slept, woke up, played with the cats, eat and slept again probably

now you're pissed off because you were on your 143 streak and he ruined it :(

"oh come on it's just a game.." he makes up an excuse. "a game i spent hours on! don't you know how long it took to login that much and now you made me lose my streak?!" you crossed your arms, pouting

"you're overreacting, c'mere." he extends his hands out. "no, i'm mad." you looked away

"oh please, i'm not falling for that.." well i guess he did because you kept on ignoring him for 3 hours straight which made him go insane ngl not being able to touch you, especially when you're at home with him and still REFUSING physical contact

"okay fine, i'm sorry okay? please open the door, soonie wants to see you." he knocks on the door. "is it soonie or you're the one who wants to see me?" you asked

"both. now open up." he keeps on knocking and refusing to stop, which made you annoyed. "the door isn't even locked dumbass." you yelled out, which made him silent for a moment before opening the door

"could've told me before.." he rolls his eyes playfully, before getting in bed with you. "i really am sorry okay, don't ignore me like that ever again." he snuggles up with you as soonie joined in

"then don't do something like that again.." you groaned. "i promise, okay?" he assures you, holding you in his arms tight

changbin

here's an interesting one!

ahm.. something like lee know's maybe? he forgot to... do the laundry?????

that's all i could think of sorry

no bc u told him to do it like 4 hours ago while u had some work to do, you didn't even leave the house or anything but no now it's 10 pm and he still forgot womp womp

your favorite shirt is in the pile too and you were planning on wearing it tmrw when u and binnie go out :((((

"you could've set a reminder at least?!" you scolded him, which he just sat there in the couch crossing his arms feeling bad because he knew it was his fault

"i forgot to set one too.." he mutters, looking up at you. "you're too forgetful sometimes, it's bad!"

"it can't be helped okay!" changbin snaps back, before he pulled you onto his lap and groaned. "sorry. stop being so mad about it, you can find other shirts that could fit on you."

"but you said you loved that one the most.." you pouted. "you look good in anything, and i'll love you no matter. it doesn't make much of a difference." he says while running his hand through your hair "i just loved it because it compliments your body the most." he smirks

"hmph.." you whine, refusing to touch him in any sort of way despite already being on top of him. "come on, i said i'? sorry..?" he cups your cheeks, before playing with it for a while. "here, i'll let you buy something from my phone.. how about that?" your ears perk up, as you quickly take a glance at him. "promise?" you asked. "promise, bub."

you smiled, before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugged him. "thsnk you~" you cooed, as changbin laughs it off. "in one other condition.." he adds

"let me do anything to you tonight, eh?" he raises an eyebrow teasingly, which made you blush a bit but simply shrugged it off as you hit him playfully

"ow!" he pretends to be hurt, as you pouted. "i guess that's a yes, hm love?" he chuckles, pulling his phone out of his pocket

hyunjin

let's say he forgot it was your date today, except like teeny bit worse

you were already dressed up, did a bit of makeup and everything, only to see him lying on the couch with the remote on his hand, skimming through the channels on the tv

you were genuinely confused, thinking you got the date wrong or anything, but no, it really was today

"hyune? why aren't you ready yet?" you asked. "hm? where we going?" he looks up from the couch, sitting up as he looks at you for a moment, smilinf at your appearance. "you're kidding right? you said we have a date."

"date? when?" he tilts his head to the side. "i don't remember setting one for us, you're messing things up babe." that is, until his phone alarm rang with the title; 'date with y/n'

you would agree that if he simply forgot and just needed a reminder, he'd be off the hook. but even saying YOU were the one messing things up despite being the one planning the whole thing is just another story

"oh fuck.." he mutters as he looks at his phone. not only that, he set it 2 hours after the actual date, now you both missed your reservation. "hwang hyunjin. are you kidding me right now?" you cross your arms, clearly mad

"i'm sorry, i totally forgot.. i was just-"

"too busy with the damn tv? oh i can see that!" you cut him off, now scolding him. "now we missed the reservation!" you groaned, stomping yout feet towards your room..

"babe, look, i'm really sorry okay? i didn't mean to." hyunjin tries to apologize, standing behind you in front of the mirror while you removed your not-too-much-of-makeup-but-still-was-something makeup that took work

"pleasee? i can still make it up to you, we can go elsewhere." he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting hid chin on your shoulder

"anywhere you want, my treat, you don't even have to do anything but enjoy yourself, how about that?"

your furrowed eyebrows slowly went upwards, as you stared at him from the mirror. "anything..?"

"yes, love." he kisses your cheek. "anything." you contemplate it for a moment, before you sighed. "fine.. since we're still going."

"there we go, there's my lover." he giggles, pinching your cheek. "no need for you to wear any makeup or change, your perfect as you are. i'll be taking your clothes off later eitherway." he says laughing, running his hand through your hair

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hyung line #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #imagine #thoughts #skz scenarios #boyfriend #read #shorts

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logansluvr · 20 hours

Text

TASTE

LOGAN HOWLETT x F!READER

SUMMARY : You won’t admit it, but it stung when you realized you were just a placeholder while Logan waited for Jean AGAIN. Now that she has him, she realizes that no matter how hard she tries there will always be you somewhere on him…Or Jean and Logan both fucked themselves over while you enjoy the aftermath.

WARNING : description of mutant powers (all things nature), angst, more angst, Jean slander (sorry), suggestive content, nothing deeper than a make out, hurt/slight comfort, some Logan slander (ily), Logan has some self reflection time, love triangle??square???

basically I was listening to taste and this sparked in my head and now it won’t leave me alone…

I heard you're back together and if that's true

you'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you

IN ALL HONESTY SOMEWHERE IN THE BACK OF your mind you knew it was coming. It was nice to indulge in the fantasy though. You indulged in it as an ode to your past self ( you from a year ago ) when you realized that what you thought of Logan was more than a crush. The opportunity presented itself so sinfully you thought it had to be some sort of hallucination.

You couldn’t say no, after all you still had that ode to your past self and deep down you felt…comforted. Comforted in the fact that Logan had thought about you in that way — though that thought diminished soon enough.

At first it was nice, Logan treated you right even if there was something a little off about it. He took you out on occasion, made you laughed, hell he even laughed with you.

There was a point after three months where he began to not mind falling asleep in your bed — even if he acted a little colder the day after it happened.

There were nights when he would be extra tense after a small rescue mission, or after something happened during the day.

He’d take it out on you by burying himself inside of you, biting down on your chest in places clothes covered — other times he’d just bury his head between your thighs taking his time in making you fall apart over and over.

But after nights like those he wouldn’t even look you in the eyes directly. It seemed that only a half a year into your relationship you realized something odd. Certain people in the halls would stare at you with pity, Scott Summers barely looked you in the eyes and even the professor seemed like each word he said to you he was internally wincing.

It was only one night after a particularly rough mission that you had pieced most of it together. Once you were in your room you recalled the high tension between Scott, Jean, and Logan. Most of the time you felt like you a Ororo were missing a big piece of something — especially with the way they’d all go at each other.

You were grateful he had the decency to tell you rather than ignore you, you weren’t even paying attention. Too busy trying to hold back tears — ones you were confused on having.

He muttered something along the lines of you being too young and he just isn’t ready for something like that. You didn’t care, it was a bunch of bullshit. You didn’t need telepathy to know that.

Once he shut the door behind him you had walked to the shower, turned it on, stepped inside with your clothes on, and cried. For a minute you didn’t even realize why you were crying until you had the realization that it was because you felt more for him than you initially let yourself believe.

The days after that everyone sensed the tension, Logan tried to act normal. You however, you just simply brushed him off — he didn’t need to know that he had seriously fucked with your mental. You were going to act normal, act like it didn’t affect you.

It was bad enough the professor looked at you with sympathy the day after your crying session.

On the bright side he fixed your schedule around so you’d see less of Logan.

The week following the breakup you realized he hadn’t even waited that long before he was already crowding Jean — that’s when you realized it wasn’t one big coincidence Scott was meaner at the same time Logan was crowding the Dr.

You had unfortunately turned down the hallway about a week and a half after the breakup, patting a student on the shoulder after they had bombarded you with questions. You were going to meet Scott, his next class in coordination with yours.

But as you glanced at the end of the hall you saw him. Standing next to her, arm on the wall as he smiled down at her. Staring like she was the only thing in the room — you could almost hear the swish of the trees outside, an affect from the anger simmering beneath you.

Thankfully someone stepped out of the classroom you were about to enter. It was one about halfway down the hall, and it seemed to draw both your attention and the attention of couple practically eye fucking at the end of the hallway.

Scott glanced at them, thankful for his sunglasses so they couldn’t see the glare on his face before he turned towards you. Clenching his jaw he walked towards you, handing you the lesson plan he had worked up.

You were far too busy reading over the sheet to notice the gaze burning holes into your back — but Scott wasn’t. And as he glanced over his shoulder he found Logan Howlett staring directly at you.

And a Jean grey staring at him staring at you.

It was only about three weeks after the breakup when something seemed to change. You hadn’t truly been feeling better but you were getting there — busying yourself with other things. Working more on your abilities and working on your training.

You were none the wiser to the situation happening between the two people you’d successfully stopped feeling hatred for. You stopped the avoidance thing about two weeks after the breakup, the mansion was big but not that big.

While it didn’t outwardly bother you that much, other people seemed to notice a tense thing between the couple anytime you were in the vicinity.

There was a day when it seemed like everything went from bad to worse between them. It was a nice day outside and Jean found herself in Logan’s arms, holding onto him whilst his lips pressed against hers.

Her hands were tangling in his hair whilst they swapped whatever DNA they were hoping to swap. And when they pulled away to catch their breath her eyes remained closed, a small furrow in her brow as her tongue ran over her lips.

If someone were to ask her, she’d say she was hallucinating.

Because she could’ve sworn she tasted cherry lipgloss on Logan’s lips — cherry lipgloss she didn’t own.

Yet as her tongue darted out to lick her lips again, it was gone. Her eyes cracking open to find Logan’s gaze over her shoulder, and when she spun around to glance at what had got his attention there you were.

There you always were.

Oblivious to the fact that Logan was watching you. Oblivious to the fact that wherever you showed up he seemed to only look at you the way he used to look at Jean. Oblivious to the fact that all you had to do was enter the same room and all of the sudden his attention was on you.

And it wasn’t on purpose, cause there was a moment where your mental forces had slipped and she probed. And when she dug deeper she only find pure oblivion, it made it all the harder to spite you.

She could ignore if she wanted too, and she tried. For a while. But every-time she kissed him, there was that lingering feeling of tasting cherry lipgloss.

The same cherry lipgloss she watched you apply in a mirror in the hallway.

And she swore your perfume lingered on him even if it had been weeks since you’d been within five feet of him.

Every time you close your eyes

And feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air

Just know I was already there

this was short Ik but I’m currently crying because I had a smut with over 6.k words and HALF OF IT DIDNT SAVE?!??!?

anyways <33 taglist??

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mydarlingclaudia · 1 day

Text

I will love you ‘til the end of time

note : divider is from @/toastray. I have nothing to say this was supposed to be a couple hundred words but yk.

wc : 2.7k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy

desc : he’s been in love with the memory of you for too long, falling back in love with the newer you took a matter of seconds. fluff, bit of angst (?), au, re4rLeon, fem!reader, not proofread, I talk a tiny bit about sex at the end but there’s no smut.

Leon doesn’t remember the sound of your voice, it’s been too long, too many years have passed since the day you died.

Six years was all the time the two of you had together. Six good years. All a really, really long time ago. Leon hates it, he knows he’s forgetting, memories are serving less and less of a purpose to him everyday. How is he to remember lying under the trees with you when those trees have been cut down and turned to homes and firewood? How can he remember you gutting fish for the two of you to eat when the fish have left the river you lived by?

The home you originally lived in had been torn down and rebuilt dozens of times by now, Leon wasn’t always there, even when he was, it wasn’t very lived in after you died. He’s been around the world more times than he can remember, before you, with you, after you. No place looks the same. Leon has many homes, stays there for a few decades, packs up, and moves to the next house in the next country.

He had been gifted with everlasting life for being some hero, for fighting monster when those were still a thing, it was well after he had married you, he didn’t tell you, but he thought you’d spend forever together. Didn’t happen, obviously. You got sick, he took care of you, nothing helped.

Leon prayed to whatever God that had bestowed his immortality to him to give it to you too, to keep you alive, to make you healthy again. He received no answer and you died not long after, Leon was left to spend the rest of his eternal life alone, but the world was his, and he has all the time that the universe has to offer. But what had he done to not be granted the one thing he wanted in the world? Why would some God reward him just to let him live the rest of his life miserable?

Leon’s seen everyone fall in love, but love evolved from courting to dating apps, he’s seen an embarrassing amount of shitty first dates. But he’s also seen a lot of good ones, ones where the first date turns to a second one, then a third, then a fourth, then before he knows it, those twenty-something-year-olds he had seen fall in love in a small restaurant were now taking their teenagers to the mall and going to high school reunions.

You would have loved this, or he hopes you would’ve. Because he really wishes that you were there to cuddle up to him on the couch and watch tv with him until midnight, he wanted to take you on cute dates, he wants to buy you things and renew your vows once every few years.

He wishes that the memories are clearer in his head, he can really only see them when he closes his eyes, or when the weather is a certain way, or when a certain smell hits his nose. Leon wants to feel your skin against his again. he wants to hear you talking directly into his ear and see that smirk on your face when you suggest something you know he won't refuse.

But it's been so long and he knows that your body has long since decomposed and your grave has been swallowed up by the ocean, a good half of the time since then he's been living on auto-pilot, the other half he's painfully aware of your absence with each day that passes.

He's not even sure he'd be able to hold you correctly, should you fall back into his arms one day. Would you still love him despite that?

He's gone so long without a lover, would he remember how to kiss? The Hollywood movies don't do it justice, kissing. But no one in those movies kissed like you had, Leon's seen all kinds of romance movies, read all kinds of books, he's always imagined you and him as the main characters, but you never kiss him the way you used to.

Would you even choose him? There were so many different men out there and so many new ways to meet someone and stay connected, there was no rush to get married or have kids, would Leon be the man you'd pick once again? He hopes so.

He doesn't remember Beowulf having a wife, and Beowulf had been great. He knows that many heroes aren't able to keep their wife and their glory at the same time, the decision is often made for them, and they go on fighting until they die. But Leon stopped fighting with the same determination when you passed, he still did it, people needed protecting, but if he wasn't there to protect you, then was there really anything to fight for?

Despite all of this, he's still here. Leon looks the same as he did all those years ago, some things have changed, a lot, really, but not just about him. The world around him has grown, he's watched generations come and go just to get to some shitty grocery store in Raccoon City twenty minutes before they close at eight.

Leon doesn't like to have to work all the time, he thinks it's crazy how he went from hero to cop, more money was needed to live now than he ever imagined would be possible. He has money saved up from years and years of work, but he can't keep using the "generational wealth" excuse when he's got no family.

He doesn't like being bugged much, either. Maybe that's why he's buying his dinner when he's already supposed to be in bed, could be why he works so much even though he can't stand it sometimes, too.

Leon should have grabbed a shopping cart, the basket he carries is overflowing with shit he doesn't even need, when has he ever even eaten Devil Dogs and Zebra Cakes? He really needs to eat more than just pasta and steak every other night, maybe stop getting deliveries from the pizza place, too. He's looking over the ingredients on the back of a cereal box he knows he's going to get no matter what when there's a soft tap on his shoulder, he sighs and stops, turning around and preparing to be asked a question a cashier would know the answer to rather than him.

But Leon freezes the second his eyes land on your face. He must've gone crazy, it can't be you, can it? You're not really standing in front of him with a basket in your arms, wearing a winter jacket over your sweatshirt and smiling at him as if you're some stranger to him.

"Where did you get those?" Your voice is quiet when you speak, his gaze doesn't even follow your hand when you point at the sweets in his basket, he just stands there and admires you for a few seconds.

Leon wants to cry, he wants to hug you, he wants to kiss you, tell you to run away with him, find someway for you to become immortal and stay by his side until the world ends. But he doesn’t, you look at him like he’s a stranger.

"Oh- Th-the uhm, the Zebra Cakes?" Leon finally asks after a few seconds, you only nod. "The e-end of aisle six." Why is he stammering? He's thought about all the things he'd say to you for hundreds of years, and he's instantly throwing every single word out the window the second you come out from whatever corner of the world you've been hiding in.

"Alright, thanks." God, it really is you. Your smile's the same, you look the same, you smell the same, you sound the same, you just- it's you. He remembers the way you sound again, God, please don’t ever take your voice away from him. He stops himself from reaching for your wrist when you walk away, knowing that you don't remember the things he does and that it'll only make you feel weird about him. But he'll settle for knowing that you're alive and that you're in the city, and that hopefully this won't be the last time he sees you.

—

The next time Leon sees you is on the subway a few weeks later in December.

You're not really looking when you step into the train, reaching up too high for the pole to hang onto and instead grab onto his hand. Your hands are so cold, you really need to wear gloves. But you gasp and pull your hand away when you feel his warm hand touch your skin, instantly holding lower down on the cold pole and looking at him.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" It's cute how quickly you apologize, it brings a smile to his face.

"No- No, you’re fine." He wants so badly to wrap his hand around yours, to hold you close and keep you warm, but he couldn’t, he was still a stranger to you. Being in a crowded train and standing a few inches apart was enough for now.

Leon just watches you, you don’t notice because you’re too busy staring down at your shoes, but his eyes are tracing over the curve of your nose, the way your eyelashes look when you blink, how kissable your lips look. He missed this view, although he'd much rather have you looking back at him with the same adoration in your eyes.

Neither of you speak again for the rest of the ride, you can feel him staring at you, though, you don’t entirely mind, you’d probably looking at him if his eyes weren’t burning holes through your skull.

You haven’t left his mind since he saw you at the grocery store, he’s been trying to figure out ways to find you again without getting put on some kind of radar, he’s too impatient to let things happen naturally, but it’s really the only choice he has.

He knows you recognize him, he can’t help but wonder if you’re getting some kind of vision from the past of him kissing you, of you resting on top of him in the sunlight, of him looking at you with awe in his eyes as you laugh at a story he told you.

But he can’t think about that for long, the train comes to a stop and you leave again, looking back over your shoulder at him and giving him a small goodbye smile. Where have you been all these years?

—

Sometimes, shitty dates were a good thing.

Both parties normally end up having a bad rest of their night, but if some man-child asshole you had been put on a date with hadn’t just thrown a whole tantrum and stomped out of the bar, you wouldn’t be sitting next to Leon.

He didn’t know you’d be here tonight, he was just here because he wanted to grab a drink after work, but this was better.

It’s awkward, he really, really doesn’t hope you think he’s stalking you. How small could a city be? Is it really so odd that the man you said a few words to at a grocery store and bumped into on the train would be sitting next to you at a bar?

Leon’s always had a staring problem when it came to you, he’s sure you’re too pretty for him, not that you were really his anymore. And Christ, you’re still beautiful, maybe even more so now. Modern clothes look good on you, he likes your dress, your shoes, the way you did your hair, the color you painted your nails.

He has to stop staring, because now you’re looking back at him. Leon expects for you to yell at him, or slap him, or something, but you just smile at him and turn towards him a tiny bit more.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare, zoned out.” Leon apologizes once his eyes snap up to yours, you had moved from your table up to the bar a few minutes ago, most likely embarrassed. You brought your drink over, too, though you didn’t really pay attention to it, just circling the lip of the cup with your fingers and taking a few sips every few seconds.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Your smile only grows, Leon has to bite back a grin threatening to stretch across his lips. Once again, he’s not sure what to say. Does he ever really know what to say now, though? You take the words right out of his mouth and turn them into broken mumbles that he tries to cover up with a fake cough or forced chuckle.

That didn’t use to happen, he’d still get nervous around you, but seeing you now made him feel like he was falling in love again.

“I’d feel like I’ve seen you before…?” You say, you know you’re right, you just want him to talk to you because you haven’t been able to get him out of your head, for some reason.

“Oh, uhm, yeah- Yeah, I think I’ve seen you around, too.” Is he seriously fucking blushing right now?

“Hm, small world.” You take a sip from your drink, he does the same.

“So, uh, bad date?” Leon asks before he can stop himself, he knows the answer, but you were probably going to get mad at him, get offended and ignore him if he sees you again.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “It’s fine, though. Blind date.” Leon nodded, staring down at the ring of water his glass left on the countertop. “You just here for a drink?”

“Mhm,” Alcohol was like water to him now, not the way that he drinks it everyday, but that it hardly has an effect on him anymore. But he can’t sit here and drink glass after glass unless if he wants people to get concerned, so he just sips on one or two for an hour and leaves. You’re drinking the same drink as him, though, so he decides to stay for longer than usual.

And to his amazement, you stay, too. You laugh and nod at the stories he tells you, he listens intently to the ones you tell in return. Of course you’ve been living a different life than the one he had with you, but this is already getting better than the last. And you seem… into him? More into him than you were with your actual date, he’s not complaining.

By the time you and Leon go your separate ways, it’s pitch black outside, well, not really, it’s never completely dark in a city. The lights of driving cars and buildings illuminate you beautifully, like you’re something holy.

Leon finds a napkin with a phone number scribbled on it in his jacket pocket, it must’ve been yours, he couldn’t be happier.

—

Whatever higher being blessed him with another chance with you, he’d praise for the rest of eternal life. Because after a few hour-long phone calls and a couple more coincidental meetings, he’s taking you out on dates and you’re holding onto his arm and kissing his cheek.

It’s better than he remembers, the city offers more things for the two of you to do, and he’s up for anything you suggest.

Leon is finally able to feel your skin underneath his fingertips, feel your lips against his, listen to your voice in his ear, buy you nice things, have you cuddle up with him on the couch, he has you back.

You look so peaceful when you sleep, your head resting on his bicep, his naked skin pressed against yours. It’s been a year, you both still look the same, but he knows you’re changing. Leon hadn’t had sex in so long that he was sure that he would’ve fucked it up, you had taken charge, and it had been soft and slow, anyway. Nothing for him to worry about.

He’s been awake for an hour, just looking at you, trying to imprint this memory into his mind in case you were to disappear soon. But you finally start to stir, blinking your eyes a few times as you start to wake up.

“Leon…?” You mumble, he pulls you closer.

“Go back to sleep,” A kiss to your eyebrow, then the bridge of your nose, your lips twitch up into a sleepy smile.

“Mm… ‘kay. Love you.” You yawn, resting your hand on his chest as you close your eyes again and nestle into his shoulder. He hasn’t heard that from you in ages, he doesn’t know if you meant to say it, but he’s thankful you did.

“… Yeah, love you, too.”

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy

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avcdgrdn · 2 days

Text

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1426

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

nothing could have prepared you for the man who walked through the front door of the inn that day.

he looked like death, his chocolate hair tangled, his square jaw riddled with bruises and dirt. heavy eyes fixed themselves upon your figure.

"you got a spare room?"

that voice, gravelly and low, betrayed the exhaustion that plagued this mysterious stranger. you couldn't help but stare for a moment, lost in thought.

"i ... ah, yes, of course. just a room for one?"

your hands swiftly moved to ring him up, pressing a few buttons on the cash register. the man visibly reacted to the metallic sounds of the register, an expression of mild panic settling in.

"yeah ..." he dug through his pockets, patting himself over until he secured a grip on his wallet. pulling it out, he flipped it open, revealing nothing but an ID and a few sticks of gum. he clicked his tongue, defeated. "... this is embarrassing."

it was evident that something wasn't right with him; he looked as if he could collapse at any given moment. should you just deny him service and let him leave? what if he just got himself into deeper trouble? was he even in his right mind?

there was a fleeting moment of awkward silence as the two of you avoided eye contact. you took a sharp breath in.

"... tell me, sir, what's your name?"

his bushy brows rose in surprise. "er ... stan. stan pines." stan gave you a once-over, pulling a sly smirk despite his run-down appearance. "why? ya like what you see?"

a sort of scoffing chuckle left your lips. "this isn't really the time for jokes ..." your eyes trailed down to his stained jacket, torn-up jeans, and over worn shoes. at that, he laughed, which quickly turned into a painful cough. the concern became more evident on your face.

"-ah, you're right, of course. nobody would really want a guy like me, yeah?"

you couldn't bring yourself to respond to that. you could see the storm in his eyes.

turning your back to the counter, you picked up a key that was hanging from the wall, holding it out to him as you met his confused gaze.

"room 34. your stay will be on the house tonight, sir."

"... you're pullin' my leg."

"no, i'm perfectly serious."

hesitantly, he reached out his hand to take the key. your fingers brushed against his rough skin briefly before you pulled your arm back.

stan simply stood there, still processing what had just been given to him. he'd tried this before with numerous other places, and they'd all shut him down. he'd been through ... how many, four, five different states by now? finally, a night where he doesn't have to sleep in his car. the notion of spending a night in an actual bed ... seemed unreal.

"well, i ... damn. th-thanks, toots." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. a faint shade of pink rose to his cheeks, which he attempted to play off by staring at the ground.

how long had it been since anyone had shown him this kind of generosity?

unsure of what to do, he decided to make his way over to his room, locating the staircase and climbing up, stealing a glance back at you. you watched him ascend the stairs, leaning your arms against the counter.

your mind continued to race. the man looked like he'd just been in a fight. did he have wounds that needed treatment? did he have any place to go? ... of course, those were all personal questions that you knew you shouldn't ask about. he is only a customer ... at least you could offer him somewhere to crash for the night.

it had been two hours.

two hours, and yet, you still couldn't get him off your mind.

you figured you might be able to offer him some dinner.

or was that just you trying to come up with an excuse to see him again? you didn't think about it too hard.

making your way over to the kitchen, you had the chef prep a single serving of food, laying it out on a tray which you picked up and began to walk with. the carpeted floor softened the sound of your footsteps.

arriving at the end of the hall, you stood in front of the door labeled "34", hesitating. you steeled your nerves and knocked gently on its wooden surface.

a few moments passed. you could hear the sound of rustling fabric and footsteps as stan made his way over to the door, opening it and observing his visitor. he was dressed in a bathrobe, his hair damp and his face looking much cleaner than before.

"sorry if i came at a bad time. i just figured you might want a bite to eat." you averted your eyes by glancing to the tray of food you held, a faint blush rising to your face.

twinkling lights began to glisten in place of the dark storm you'd seen in him before. his expression softened in disbelief, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

eventually, he spoke.

"why are you doing this?"

"... what do you mean?"

"i mean, you're wastin' your good food 'nd room. you deserve your money-"

he cut himself off, swallowing back a bitter feeling in his throat.

"-i ... i need to ... pay it back."

oh. is he ... crying?

you could feel your heart wrench in your chest. "s-stan. it's okay."

he furiously blinked back tears, taking a deep breath and putting on a weary grin. "will ya keep that food hot for me? i'm just gonna get dressed. i think i'll eat it downstairs."

"oh, of course."

"thanks a bunch." he winked at you, then shut the door, leaving you to stare at the room label again. you blinked, then turned around to head back down.

after some time of waiting in the kitchen, you caught the sight of him descending the staircase and walking over to you. he was wearing a different shirt, although his jacket and jeans were the same. his hair was dry and much poofier now that it was clean. you caught yourself staring at his mullet.

"didja wait for too long?" stan pulled out a stool from the bar, taking a seat and watching as you put his plate of food in front of him.

"nah, you're okay." you offered a small smile. "feel free to dig in."

and boy, did he dig in. this man hasn't had a proper meal in forever. his daily diet has consisted of strictly rationed cheap snacks and the occasional stolen burger and fries. you swore you've never seen a guy so happy to eat something before in your life. somehow, watching him was making you feel warm inside.

"this ... is the best food i ever tasted." stan mumbled, looking up at you in between bites. all sorts of different emotions were raging inside of him, and the feeling of being properly nourished was bringing them up to the surface. his brown eyes began to overflow with tears, and he cursed underneath his breath, eating more aggressively to try and distract himself.

"uh, stan? are you alright?"

that was the last straw. his brows knit together and he swallowed his food, dropping his fork onto the plate. the tears were flowing freely now.

"no. dammit, i'm not alright."

stan covered his face with one arm, his broad frame trembling as he choked back bitter sobs.

"it's just that ... m-my parents, and i ... s-see- and my brother-"

he hunched over, shifting to cover his face with both hands. everything was crashing down.

"oh, God, my brother ..."

you walked out from behind the bar, making your way over to where he sat and taking the seat next to him. you didn't really think at all, you just slid your arm around his back and-

the instant he felt your touch, stanley clung onto you desperately.

onto somebody who was showing him hospitality. onto somebody who cared enough to worry about his health. onto somebody unlike anybody else he'd met these past few years.

burying his face into your shoulder, he pulled you closer against him.

"'m sorry ... don't leave me alone."

the wetness of his tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn't mind. here in your arms was a little boy who just needed a hug.

you barely knew each other, but you had a feeling that was going to change.

"don't worry, i'm not going anywhere."

end

#this guy needs some love #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #mullet stan #mullet stanley #sfw #angst #hurt/comfort #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines x you #avcdgrdn fic

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lucimaaie · 2 days

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we pt2 ✧.* tlou

pairing - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - you ask ellie one of the questions you'd saved for later.

a/n - wrote this with sick brain so if sum make sense im srry, fluff, also i got a pt 3 & 4 coming cause i randomly got motivated

part 1

a couple of nights later, you and ellie had got closer in the non-physical sense. it practically took a game of twenty questions to get her to open up, but she promised she was trying.

she distracted herself with always touching you in some way. choosing to focus on the way your skin felt beneath her fingertips rather than fully showing herself to you.

“were you serious about moving south?” ellie’s hands froze their motions on your arms. she angled her head up to look down at you, though the lack of light didn’t help her see you any better. still, she could imagine the inquisitive look in your eyes.

she didn’t say anything for a while, taking in a big gust of air through her nostrils and letting it out slowly. “yeah. think i was.”

“we could..we could do it.” the shifting of the sheets cut you off as you turned around on your stomach.

ellie looked at the ceiling as your hesitant sentence. open, be open. she reminded herself but the words just made her limbs tingly. she was okay, she didn’t need to be scared. you lived in the middle of nowhere and you how to handle yourself. you were safe, she was safe. everything was fine.

she shook her head. “don’t have to. it was just a thought.” ellie patted your waist before lifting you up as much as she could, signaling she needed the pressure of you on her.

her hands fell to your thighs as she could feel you look at her. she soon started to regret it as you didn’t pull you eyes away from her. you were serious about this, learning her. “it might take too long..it’s dangerous.”

“do you want to do it?”

she didn’t want to you that she was still afraid. afraid of making this even more official. there was a we, you established that, but she wasn’t exactly sure you knew what you were in for. last time she settled with someone, it didn’t last very long and though there was no abby, she’d find some excuse to pull away from you. cause she wasn’t supposed to be here with you, lovingly caressing your skin. loving you.

“ellie.” your cold hands cupping her cheeks, snapped her out of her inner monologue. she hummed, leaning into your touch. “remember what we said?”

that damn word again. and she knew you were aware of your effect on her. this was the only time you’d gently guilt her into answering questions she was adamant on avoiding cause it hurt to much to care.

“don’t think i do, peaches.”

“you don’t get to distract me with cute nicknames right we’re having a serious conversation.” you gently pinched her cheeks, squishing them between your hands. she was resistant to the laugh you were trying to pull from her. she snuck her fingers under your shirtt and wiggled them against your skin.

“and you do?” she cheesed at the carefree giggles that came from your mouth. when she finally relented, she moved you back next to her and laid on her side to face you. her face grew serious as she watched you catch your breath. she never would’ve imagined seeing that smile when you first met. the inability to stop staring made her groan as she laid on her back. “i love you.” she said quietly.

she closed her eyes, missing the way your face dropped in a second. you say up on your elbow, then on your knees as you looked at her. “look at me.” she wanted to resist but that vulnerability in your voice made it hard. ellie opened her eyes, landing on the vague figure of your face above hers. “say it again.”

“i love you.” ellie couldn’t say anything but that as she stared up at you. “i love you.” she said again. “just know that before you decide to go across the country with me.” she as if it would make you leave. that it was too much to have someone as broken as her in love with and dependent on you. she would be devastated if that happened, absolutely. she had staked her existence on being around you and with you. she had no idea what she would do if she was left alone. she bit her lip to stop it from trembling at the thought.

she could see the way your chest stuttered in rising and falling. her hands were light in finding yours. her eyes flicked back to you, waiting for your response. “say it again, for me. please.” she swore you were as nervous as her the way you seemed stubborn on accepting she loved you.

“not until you say it first.”

“damn it, el. i’m not playing. i actually love you and if you’re joking-“

“i’m not.” she said quickly, watching as you got out of the bed to sit at the edge. “i love you and i want to move with you.” she wanted to put a hundred layers of tape on her mouth, keep herself from messing with your expectations. how she wouldn’t be a good lover. she wasn’t. she barely talked as much as she used to, beyond hushed praises in the middle of the night and directions like “c’mere.” and “stay close.” “somewhere warm, just us.” she bit her lip, signaling she was done now. no more talking.

“tomorrow.” you looked at her as she rose out of bed to sit next to you. “that way you can’t take any of it back.”

“i don’t want to, peach.” she said honestly. “so tomorrow..south.” she tried not to think of the dangers or the lack of a definitive plan. none of it mattered right now. “shit.” she said breathily, gripping the mattress underneath tightly. her fingers were like rusted metal when you pried them from the cushion, pressing your lips to them. “no backing out. you hear me?”

“yes ma’am.”

thank you for reading!

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #tlou part 2 #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #santa barbara ellie #ellie williams fluff #ellie imagine

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dalishious · 4 hours

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Zevran Arainai is an Underrated Delight

There is so much depth to Zevran Arainai’s writing that is often overlooked in favour of either sexually objectifying him or ignoring him altogether… which is kind of ironic, considering that’s how so many people in his life have treated him within universe. And then, of course, there’s the biphobia directed at his character back when Dragon Age: Origins first released. He was a joke in many Gamer Bro circles about how they killed him for flirting with their male protagonist. It’s such a shame, really. Because personally speaking, Zevran is one of my favourite characters in the entire Dragon Age franchise.

Zevran’s introduction to the game immediately sets him apart from every other character who is capable of joining the party. He first appears as an enemy; an assassin hired to kill the Warden by Loghain, the Warden’s political opponent. You immediately have the option to either kill him, or add him to the party roster. Zevran does not initially join the Warden’s cause out of the goodness of his heart; he does it because he knows that the Antivan Crows who essentially own him – which we’ll get to – will kill him for failing to assassinate your character. This really paints his original placement within the group’s dynamics in an interesting light. No one really trusts him; Alistair and Morrigan both outright voice this. Zevran himself believes he is only safe with the Warden so long as he makes himself useful, per how he sells his worthiness to the Warden when trying to convince them to let him join. There’s tension there that really makes getting to know him extra interesting, because before anything else, you need to build trust. So, when he’s finally ready to start revealing parts about his personal history, you the player really get to feel like you’ve earned something special from his character.

Zevran’s mother was Dalish, but fell in love with an elf from the city and left her clan behind. Unfortunately, Zevran’s father was assassinated, leaving her with nothing but his debts to pay. She turned to sex work, until she died giving birth to Zevran, and all that debt fell onto him in turn. Zevran was raised by the sex workers in the brothel his mother worked at, until the age of seven, when the Antivan Crow Guildmaster Talav Arainai bought him for seven sovereigns; one of eighteen children made into “compradi” (recruits) that year. In his training, Zevran was tortured in a variety of ways, and in his own words, “taught to know nothing else but murder”. Of those eighteen, Zevran was one of two who survived the training, the other being a human boy named Taliesen. Then, a woman named Rinnala (“Rinna”) was placed into House Arainai from the Azul Contract that dictated the Crows were to take in unwanted bastard children of the Antivan Crown. For a time being, Zevran, Taliesen, and Rinnala worked well together as a professional and romantic trio. But when Zevran and Taliesen were tricked into believing Rinnala betrayed the Crows in an internal Crow scheme, they killed her. When they learned otherwise, Zevran took it particularly rough, combined with the realization of how little he himself mattered, too.

The trauma that Zevran has experienced is something he often makes jokes about, or speaks detached from. I’ve been called out many times on doing the same thing with my own trauma, and I know it’s a pretty commonplace response in others as well. That makes it feel all the more real; his responses are so authentically relatable. It’s also in a way, I find a little therapeutic to get to comfort a character whose survival mechanism has been to downplay his trauma for so long. The Warden is able to tell Zevran that what he’s been through sounds horrible, and even though Zevran tries to excuse things as not being that bad, you gain significant approval from him, just for showing him sympathy. Sympathy is something he’s severely lacked in his life. For all Zevran jokes about his traumatizing experiences, they clearly left a mark on him. Zevran eventually admits to the Warden that he did not actually anticipate being able to kill them, and that what he really wanted in taking on the job was to die. Again, sorry to get personal here for a moment, but I too have attempted suicide, and honestly I still struggle with ideation sometimes. And yet again I must say that I find something really beautiful in a character like Zevran, who is able to find peace and happiness on the other side of surviving such a thing.

As for Zevran’s romance… oh, Zevran’s romance path is such a delight. He is so multidimensional in that he’s very flirtatious and fun, while also showing genuine vulnerability in time. He admits that his role as a Crow meant he was encouraged to use seduction as a tool. His only experience with a true relationship ended very poorly, with Rinna’s death and a wedge forming between him and Taliesen, who he is eventually forced to kill too in the game. One of my favourite moments in the entire game, is when you invite him to your tent and he says no… and if you accept his consensual rights, that is what changes everything for him and the Warden’s relationship. Zevran feels safe and loved, and he gets to be happy. As of Dragon Age: Inquisition, a romanced Zevran is still at the Warden’s side, too, if they’re alive.

I love Zevran Arainai so much. He truly is an amazingly well done character, and deserves so much more respect and interest than he gets.

*Sourced from in-game dialogue and World of Thedas vol. 2

#hand slipped and i wrote 1k about loving zevran sorry #zevran arainai #dragon age #dao #meta #suicide tw

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xomakara · 23 hours

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Love Under the Western Sky

SUMMARY | Two businessmen, Yunho and Mingi, are kidnapped by you, a female outlaw, and your gang, but eventually fall in love and build a life with you and your community.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader x Mingi

GENRE | businessman!Yunho, businessman!Mingi, outlaw!Reader, Western AU (off to the wild west we go), non-idol au, smut

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, drinking, kidnapping, threesome, mentions of violence (gunfights), fingering, blowjobs, double penetration sex, unprotective sex, dirty talk, praising, pet names

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH | 15,491 words

TAGLIST | --

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Finally took forever! I want to thank @hobeemin for the beautiful banner/divider and @daddyfordaeddy for beta reading this long ass fic. Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

Yunho and Mingi did not imagine being in this situation. They did not think that they'd be tied up together as a band of crazy outlaws surrounded them.

"We're so fucked," Yunho said as he looked at Mingi. They were both bound by their wrists to each other's backs. Mingi was fiddling with the knot, but it seemed hopeless.

"It's your fault for flirting with her," Mingi snapped. "If you would've just listened to me‒"

"How was I supposed to know that she'd tie us up?!" Yunho replied. "I didn't even think she was a bandit! I thought she was just a pretty lady on the train."

"And look what happened!" Mingi retorted.

Yunho scowled. "Oh shut up. You were flirting with her too. If anyone should be blamed, it's you. You're the one who wanted to start a business out West."

"It was a good opportunity!" Mingi exclaimed.

"Yeah, and we lost our money. Good job," Yunho said sarcastically.

"Hey!" Mingi exclaimed. "If you didn't take the gamble with that asshole‒"

"Shut up, both of you!" You turned to face Mingi and Yunho, a knife pressed against your palm. The sight of you approaching made Mingi nervous.

He had heard of the West being a rough place. And he'd heard of bandits roaming the land, taking whatever they pleased. But he'd also heard of ladies like you. Pretty faces who lulled men into a false sense of security with their smiles before robbing them. He just never thought he'd actually meet a lady like that. And that lady being so damn beautiful was unfair too!

"Miss!" Mingi started. "Whatever you do, don't shoot us. I have money back home. A nice home and a lot of money. If you just let us go, I could make sure you-"

"Let you go?" You scoffed, grabbing Mingi's chin, holding his jaw. He tensed as your thumb moved over his lips. "Now why would I do that, pretty boy? I like a man with a mouth."

"Pretty bo‒ hey! Leave Mingi alone!" Yunho snapped.

"Or what, big boy?" you taunted.

"Big‒" Yunho began to stutter.

"Forget it," Mingi sighed as he looked at you. "Can we please just get this over with? Just rob us and send us on our way."

"Honey," you chuckled. "You really think we just want a bag full of cash?" You leaned down in front of the two and placed the tip of the knife beneath Mingi's chin. You trailed the blade along the length of Mingi's neck, giving him a grin. "You and big boy over here are part of the loot."

Yunho grumbled as you stepped away to greet a couple members of your gang as they finished raiding the train cars. "What the hell did they mean we were part of the loot? Why wouldn't they just take our things? Wouldn't it be easier? That's what I'd do, if I were an outlaw."

"You can't ask something like 'wouldn't it be easier'!" Mingi hissed. "There's plenty of shit outlaws can do."

"Okay, well if I were a murderer, you wouldn't be my loot," Yunho scoffed. "No offense."

"A little bit taken," Mingi admitted.

"Whatever. This doesn't matter. We just need to find a way to escape," Yunho sighed as he twisted around, trying to untie the ropes around his wrists. "Just keep an eye out for a sharp object or something."

Mingi nods. It wasn't going to be an easy task to get loose, not when a member of the gang had kept watch on them every minute they could, ensuring that Mingi and Yunho didn't get anywhere. But as Mingi had a thought to perhaps strangle Yunho for putting them in the position they were currently in, another member of your band made his way to the two.

"Hello boys," he smiled, squatting in front of the two with the ax on his shoulder. Both Mingi and Yunho tried to speak, but neither were able to form words under the pressure that man's presence seemed to exude.

"Shit," Yunho whispered, "we're really fucked now."

"Shut it, both of you," you turned, crossing your arms as you walked over. "Jongho, they're looking to escape. Keep an eye on them."

"No worries," Jongho replied. "I got 'em."

"Get Yeosang over here to help you," you said as you looked at the train platform. "I'll get the rest of the gang to load up the horses and wagons. Then we ride off with these two big fish."

"Are we bringing any other folks?" Jongho asked.

You hummed as you squatted down and looked at both Yunho and Mingi, turning their faces. Both men looked at you like children being scolded. Your laugh couldn't be stopped as you patted their faces and stood back up. "These two will be more than enough. If anyone is looking for them, I bet they're gonna offer a lot. And if they won't, we'll sell 'em," you said it simply, shrugging it off.

"Well, boss, I reckon you're right. Anybody that would travel in luxury like them must be rich," Jongho nudges Mingi, making the man scoff. "Hell, with a pretty face like yours, boy, you'll be worth double, ya hear me?"

You laughed as Mingi huffed in response to being teased. You tapped Yunho on the cheek, catching his attention. "And I can see why you'd make quite the catch too, sweet pea. And a smart one I'd suppose. Just look at that handsome face."

"I‒" Yunho couldn't even come up with a response, not that anyone cared to hear him talk. You laughed again.

"That settles it then," Jongho turned, and, as instructed by you, went to retrieve Yeosang. "We best get these boys loaded up."

"Give me your kerchiefs," you ordered. "We don't need any yelling or shouting to draw attention."

"Yes, Boss. Got it." Jongho patted your shoulder and began to make his way to Yeosang, leaving you with Mingi and Yunho as members of your gang began to herd passengers onto the train again.

It was not difficult for you. Not at all.

However, you still had quite a job ahead.

"C'mere, sweet cheeks," you leaned down, getting right in Yunho's space. Your lips close to his ear as you whisper. "You want out, you'll have to ask me."

"You are absolutely mental‒" Yunho gasped. "Please, let us go‒"

You press a finger against his lips, cutting off any begging from the man.

"Shh, sweetheart. If I wanted you to beg, I'd put that pretty mouth of yours to use," you chuckled, standing up straight once again. Yunho did nothing to hide the flustered expression and you simply flashed him a sly smile as you gagged him. You turned to Mingi. "How about you pretty boy?"

"Uh..." Mingi felt embarrassed just from you having tied the gag in Yunho's mouth and could imagine how red his face must be. "I was gonna beg‒"

"Hush," you hummed. "Sweet talking can get you places, but here? Not with me, it won't." You stroked his face, the smile returning to your features. "However, I would appreciate a silent partner. Like your friend there."

You turn from Mingi, deciding it'd be easier to let Yeosang and Jongho help you finish the job rather than tease the two boys for much longer.

After gagging Mingi, your boys do their job well, helping load Mingi and Yunho onto the back of a wagon to prevent them from running away. As much as your heart fluttered watching these tall men be tossed and turned by Yeosang and Jongho, it wouldn't be fun to chase them down should they decide to run off.

You mounted your own horse, petting her neck. She gave a slight whine before letting you settle.

"I know, sweet girl," you coo. "Almost finished. Once we get home we'll be sure to give you lots of apples." She perks up and you chuckle.

"Got 'em, boss," Jongho announced. His horse trotting up beside yours. He stopped, tossing the reins of a mare that was following. You caught them, giving them a gentle tug, startling the horse.

"Good," you said, "I think it's time we leave."

You watched as Hongjoong and Seonghwa rode beside the wagons. San and Wooyoung on the back of wagons keeping close watch on the hostages and loot.

"Our day will end successfully, boys!" You shout.

They shout and cheer, happy from a day of plunder and robbery. It was quite the sight to behold and the poor city folk who saw your little caravan riding off into the wild definitely knew not to trifle with you or your people.

By now Mingi and Yunho had gotten comfortable with the ropes and their gags. Well, as comfortable as one could get with their ankles and wrists bound together and forced to ride in the back of a wagon.

In fact, as you and your crew got far off from the tracks, the rope around their wrists was cut by one of the men as a kind gesture.

"Looks like you two are the lucky ones. Our boss has a soft heart," Wooyoung added with a grin as he untied the last of Mingi's ropes and the gags. "But if y'all try to escape or scream, not sure what boss will do to you.”

"Oh trust me, we've heard the threats," Mingi replied as he rubbed his sore wrists. He sat up and looked at you, who was riding slightly behind the last wagon, speaking to Seonghwa and Hongjoong. "Who is she, anyways?"

“I’ll tell you the basics but don’t you dare repeat it to Boss or you’ll both be six feet under, got that?” Wooyoung warned.

The men nodded their heads quickly, agreeing that keeping their heads attached to their bodies would be preferred.

“Well… our boss comes from a rich family, back East,” Wooyoung explained. “Tons of land, cows, money and a father with an ill temper. The name isn’t something I feel too happy sayin’ aloud but they’re well known. Their sons, I guess you’d say they’re their greatest achievement. Good looks, but those same bad habits that plagued their father. But he had an eldest who was the best of them. Smart. Quick to make deals. Definitely the favorite out of the three sons. Boss’s family never paid her much attention since they thought their first son would be a good investment for her father.”

"So wait..." Mingi hums, rubbing his sore wrists and watching you intently.

"Don't interrupt, boy," San clicked his tongue. "So long story short, Boss got fed up, robbed her older brother and his finances, left, and moved West where she began working in saloons before picking up some o' my friends along the way and started forming a gang of her own."

Wooyoung nudged San in the ribs, making the man wince.

"Awww, it's not just any old gang, it's a band of brothers and our lovely boss in charge," Wooyoung said happily as the cart came to a halt, forcing you and Seonghwa to move into the front of the caravans.

"Maybe today is our lucky day, Mingi," Yunho nudged his companion.

"Lucky?" Mingi whispered. "We were kidnapped by an insane woman, and her group of bandits are kidnapping us! What part of that could be called luck?! She might just have us killed at her command and if we escape it could cause an uproar with her people. I'd say we were really and truly cursed to ever get to the West."

Yunho rolled his eyes. "You are stupid."

“Hey!” Mingi exclaimed, feeling offended.

"She obviously could have killed us if we had offended her. She took a liking to you because you're pretty, pretty boy," Yunho scoffed.

“Well she's been eyeing you, big boy,” Mingi teased. “Haven't you noticed the way she looks at us?”

Yunho opened his mouth, wanting to say you'd looked at them the same way plenty of ladies had. However, when Yunho took a deep breath to counter Mingi's theory, you appeared with a water canteen in your hand.

"Alright boys, take a drink. You might not be bound but you aren't gonna cause trouble are you?" You were smirking and Yunho hated himself for the blush rising from his neck up to his face.

Mingi takes the canteen first and takes a quick chug, realizing just how parched he had gotten. He pulls away from the canteen and looks at Yunho.

You flash a quick, cheeky grin. "See? Pretty Boy likes the treatment. I wonder if Big Boy is the same. Care for a taste, sweet thing?"

Mingi watched you teasingly pat Yunho's cheek with the back of your hand. He passed the water to Yunho, and after gulping down a bit of the refreshing water, Yunho gently pushed your hand aside and let go of the canteen.

"Gotta admit," Yunho shrugged. "I thought a pretty woman wouldn't go around shooting innocent folk."

"You know," you tilted your head. "People used to tell me I was sweet, pretty... so innocent. Nowadays they tell me that I'm mean, greedy and absolutely out of my mind. People love to judge."

"I can see why," Yunho admitted with a quiet hum, looking towards your retreating form. "But I have to admit. For a woman running with a gang of outlaws..."

"I'm not running with them, big boy," you stated. "They're running with me. Remember that."

You disappeared to continue talking to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, the two main strategists of the gang. Once you had gone, Mingi hushed his tone to a low whisper. "What the hell was that?!"

“I'm just admitting that I can see why men go chasing after her,” Yunho confessed.

"For the love of god," Mingi pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you really this naive, or are you just ignoring the possibility she could kill you and I, and dump our corpses right here?!"

"Look..." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm trying to work on being optimistic."

"Trying. Trying," Mingi mimicked. "That's rich."

“Okay! Fine, genius, you have an idea then!” Yunho challenged.

"Well, no, not yet," Mingi responded, looking at the scenery around them.

"We're fucked aren't we, pretty boy?” Yunho sighed.

"...Yes."

It had only been one night under the open night and another day of travel, but Yunho and Mingi were honestly ready to be killed, whether by the cold or by the outlaws. The blanket on top of their bodies provided little to no warmth and while they tried their hardest not to freeze in the back of the covered wagon, you were bundled up nicely.

As soon as it seemed the two would have finally lost feeling in their fingertips, you turned to them with the same, cool, indifferent gaze as the rest of the outlaw gang. Your features were smooth, but they all had hard eyes, and your band was made of some of the most brutal cowboys and bandits.

"I'm impressed, gentlemen. How are you not frozen stiff?” you asked, surprised.

Yunho wondered this as well, and found himself trembling from the chill that nipped at his nose, ears, and fingers. The flimsy, dirty cloth the two shared between the both of them offered little protection from the cold, and no comfort.

"Can I ask you a question? A personal one," Yunho was rubbing his numb fingers, desperate for heat.

You are riding next to the wagon again. Seonghwa and Hongjoong are still not willing to let you ride ahead on your own, in the event either of your hostages were foolish. "Since you were brave enough to ask it, yes. You may. It depends on the question though."

"Fair point," Yunho acknowledged. He and Mingi could have just asked anything to anger you. "My question... Why outlaws? If your family is as well off as I'm assuming-"

"So one of the two idiots," you looked at San and Wooyoung who both suddenly avoided looking at you, "told you, huh? It was bound to happen... But that is a fair question. In return, can I ask you some questions, big boy?"

"Sure," Yunho nodded.

"I know you have some skill with a gun, big boy. That must have come from a long line of working cowboys or farmers, right? Compared to pretty boy there," you point to Mingi, the man practically fuming about being called pretty boy. You continue. "It's just a feeling I got. Why didn't you grab a gun? Try to save yourself, sweet pea? Or maybe pretty boy was holding you back?"

Yunho shifts. His necktie hanging loose, and his clothes being an absolute mess. He shrugged, trying his hardest not to stammer. He was absolutely nervous by your blunt observation, yet could not say you were wrong.

"Funny..." Yunho muttered. "You read me pretty well."

"So? Why were you worried about that pretty face of yours, Mister...?" You looked at Yunho, trying to fish for a name.

"Yunho. Jeong Yunho," He cleared his throat. "Yea. And this is Song Mingi. He's my business partner and best friend. We've come out West to make a new future for the two of us. Mingi can use a gun but isn't a master at it. I wouldn't call him a coward, but he'd be a fool if he ever decided to pick a fight he knows he can't win."

“And you?” you asked, “Would you have shot me and the rest of my gang if pretty boy wasn't here, or did you hesitate for another reason? A lady in the group, for instance. Are you a man who won't shoot a woman, Jeong Yunho?”

Mingi gulps. "Don't answer that, Yunho‒"

Yunho doesn't get a word out before you interject, "Let him speak, pretty boy."

"I hesitated, because even if you're a woman, I'm not a fan of shoot-outs," Yunho explained, staring directly into your eyes.

"Is that so?" You seem satisfied enough by that answer, a grin plastered on your face. It unsettles Yunho. You have something behind that grin, he was sure of it. "Since you answered a few of my questions, I'll answer yours. Yes, I'm from a well-off family, and yes my father is a wealthy landowner. He owns thousands of acres of farmland, livestock, and plenty of money. My mother was a socialite from overseas, and my oldest brother was gifted with good looks and smarts and was the favorite son. My other two older brothers were spoiled rotten and used my mother's social influence and our father's business ventures to try and bed as many girls they wanted. Me on the other hand? I was the black sheep in the family."

“May I ask why?” Yunho inquired.

You crossed your arms, taking a quick look around. As much as you admired Yunho for his handsome face, your trust in people had already run dry from years of interaction with your parents and your brothers.

"To put it simply, I wasn't perfect enough to bag a rich man who was perfect in my parents' eyes," your bitterness could be felt throughout your entire body. "I was 'too mouthy', 'opinionated’, and definitely didn't ‘act enough like a lady.' I learned how to shoot guns, ride horses like my brothers, and could tussle like any ole cowboy. So, when I realized no man of worth wanted a tomboy as a wife, I stole from my older brother, set off west to build my own fortune and found the friends you see surrounding us. With a bit of their help, the fortune I inherited from the past years of robberies and swindling is only getting bigger."

"Now tell me," you suddenly frowned. "Do you think I'd be content with the life of a trophy wife and a woman with nothing to her name, while you men get praised for being adventurers, explorers, and the kings of the world? To hell with that, sweet pea. I prefer the freedom to do what I want, to tame what I see. There's no room for people who get in the way."

You pointed the muzzle of your rifle towards the men and stared straight on. "You should know, Jeong Yunho. If you or Mister Song Mingi decides to try to kill any of my men, or escape, I will not hold back. This isn't an invitation to stay and work with us, this is a warning for what will happen if you don't behave yourselves."

"Got it... but it is awfully cold back here," Mingi finally added.

You did feel a bit bad for them since they had given no problem at all thus far. Sure, there were times they both had argued about when would be the best time to escape and make a break for it, but ultimately, Yunho just didn't see the reason to harm or attempt an attack on someone who was not outright being hostile to them. He was a neutral man. Even when your crew had stopped for a bite to eat, both the hostages ate their meals in silence. Mingi did glare every so often and Yunho just seemed to zone out, even as some of your gang poked a little fun.

You nodded over to San, who threw a quilt to the hostages. "Fine. Since I trust you to be quiet for another few hours. We'll be stopping soon so everyone can stretch and sleep comfortably. Don't make me regret this, boys."

As much as Mingi complained, the extra warmth felt better than the previous night. The quilt was still dirty and probably hadn't been washed in a few days, but it was better than before. Yunho couldn't exactly hide his yawn and the way he relaxed now that the chill from his shoulders had gone. The threat of freezing to death was gone, but he felt a prickle down his back from you staring.

You turned your head back and patted your horse, cooing softly to the animal. Mingi caught your smile from the corner of his eye and pouted slightly, his lips puffing out more. He kept staring for a few moments longer, before Yunho nudged him.

"What?" Mingi whispered harshly.

"And you said that I was the one gawking. Looks like you can't help yourself from drooling over her either," Yunho snickers quietly. Mingi punches Yunho in the arm. "Oww! Will you stop hitting me?!"

"I won't let you make fun of me! Not when she's not listening!" Mingi points in your direction.

“Then stop looking at her,” Yunho said.

“You stop looking at her!” Mingi retorted.

The banter continued a little while longer, and with the warmth from the quilt and a full stomach, Mingi began to feel his body sag. You listened as your gang members all laughed to themselves and teased your two hostages. You shook your head, not allowing them to know that they amused you.

When you approached Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you motioned them to dismount their horses for a moment. The rest of the men listened and stayed out of your sight as you moved towards the cart where the hostages were waiting.

"I hate to admit it, but our little hostages are surprisingly nice people," Seonghwa hummed thoughtfully, ignoring the angry glare sent by Yunho, and Mingi's nervous glances. Seonghwa was fairly intimidating, with his shaggy hair and sharp gaze. "The big one could have shot us when he had the chance."

"Sure," You agreed. "I feel a little bad but teasing them has been so fun."

Mingi frowned as he had been contemplating everything that had been going on for the last day. They had not been beaten, nor were the hostages harassed beyond teasing. It was weirdly entertaining to find out that he and Yunho were seen as oddities because they didn't fight back. He thought at the beginning of how Yunho got them in this mess.

Yunho didn't have to flirt with the pretty woman he saw on the train. They could have been in another compartment and be far away from this woman and her insane, outlaw group. Why of all things did Jeong Yunho just have to stare at the pretty, petite young woman?

Okay, sure Mingi thought she was just another passenger, maybe on her way west to visit family or something like that. Yet there she was, dressed to impress and there were whispers from fellow passengers when she got on. Even he could see the glimmer in his partner's eyes and hear the small comments that came out when Yunho first laid eyes on her. She was a beauty in anyone's books. Mingi and Yunho had a soft spot for dames and never considered that would be their downfall.

Yunho should have never caught her gaze and then before they knew it the dame came sitting across them. He kept the conversations light and easy between them three, and Mingi found himself taken along for the ride as they sat through hours of the same scenery, yet felt the journey go by just a bit faster thanks to a pretty gal like her being part of the equation.

When the sun started to set, that's when everything turned a bit south. There were six outlaws that pulled their horses over to the rail cars, their hats worn down and their faces shadowed from view by the shadows of their broad brimmed Stetson hats and the darkness setting around the group. Their movements were swift, pulling out guns that seemed to be as natural for them as breathing.

"Toss those weapons in here and stay inside ladies and gentlemen," said one man in the group, whose lips curled back into a crooked smirk.

"Miss, please stay in the compartment," Yunho assured the pretty lady. "You don't want to deal with the likes of these types of people."

You watch quietly, sitting in your seat without worry. The gunslingers came their way and took any weapons the other travelers had. When they got close, the two men's hands moved towards their belts in an instant.

"Leave the pretty lady alone or we'll have problems," Yunho stepped closer, pointing his pistol towards the gunslingers, though his finger hovered over the trigger, his movement unsure.

You glared at him with the iciest tone either man had heard in their lives. "Who are you calling a pretty lady?"

Your hand came around his gun, quickly prying it away, before yanking Yunho forward by the neckerchief that rested against his neck.

"H-hey!" Mingi saw her slam her head straight into the tallest man, bringing him to his knees.

"Thanks for the compliment, boys," you smirked, training the gun in his face. "But you'll find that I'm no dame or damsel in need of saving."

Yunho clutched his forehead, his brain running in circles as the two cowboys behind him jeered and poked fun at him. His expression dropped once his mind started working again and the pain subsided.

You turned to the outlaws. "Tie 'em up boys."

And now they were here sitting in front of the fire pit with outlaws watching their every move. Seonghwa stood beside the cooking fire, watching a bubbling stew boil. Wooyoung was still near them and just watching his surroundings.

“Here,” Mingi looked up when you handed him a bowl of stew. After that fiasco of a train heist, Mingi couldn't help but stare appreciatively at your figure. You no longer wore the dress from the train but instead wore a pair of britches that hugged your legs in just the right place. Mingi sighed, cursing the way his thoughts got out of hand. "Thanks..."

Yunho gladly took a bowl as well. And almost immediately he could taste a pinch of spices, he sniffed deeply. The stew was basic and yet it was the most flavorful one he's had for a long while. It was nice for them to take care of their hostages instead of starving them. They have plenty, and yet they were willing to share a meal.

After a long day, the stars were clear in the sky. The waning moon cast its glow on the land as the horses whinnied, happily feeding and drinking out of the troughs the outlaws left behind. Everyone had found their bedding areas, not too far away from their fire pits that now had hot coals in place and wood pieces above them to keep everyone warm.

While Yunho watched the flames dance, his thoughts wandered, mainly focused on his partner, and their trip. How did it come to this, he wondered. The two had a goal of starting a store of sorts, far away from the overbearing presence of families. For once, he wished for his old life. The one where he didn't worry about being held hostage, and Mingi wouldn't stare at him while he contemplated his decisions.

"If you look at me like that," Yunho began. "It feels like you are judging me for how stupid I was earlier."

He can't look at his friend right now. If he did, there is no telling whether Mingi is still mad, or still annoyed by the turn of events. Yet, Mingi's laughter surprised him. "Oh, I was definitely judging. I can't believe you got cocky around a woman and let her get the jump on us."

"Sorry," he laughed.

"All jokes aside..." Mingi placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "She is definitely a very different kind of woman."

A quiet settled upon the two friends. The crackling fire did little to calm Yunho's racing thoughts as the heat filled the cool evening air. In the distance, Yunho watched as you patted your horse, murmuring and comforting the large animal. A quiet, loving gesture shared with your animal companion, that the horse returned in the form of nuzzling its snout close to your neck and an affectionate lick from their tongue. The sight brought a smile to Yunho's lips as you let out a giggle, brushing your hand through the horses' mane. It was a peaceful display of affection, and his heart calmed a touch.

When you made it back into the clearing, he averted his gaze as you approached.

"It is getting late," your voice startled both of the men, their bodies immediately stiff. "Try to get some sleep like the rest of the guys. We leave at dawn. Don't try to escape or you'll get a shot to the leg, so stay put."

"Okay..." Mingi agreed.

"Hey, before you leave," Yunho paused. "We didn't catch your name earlier. Is it alright if we can get it?"

Your response was curt, as you eyed Yunho and Mingi carefully. "Y/N."

Yunho watches you turn and move away from him, towards one of the bedrolls that seemed to be set up for you, laying your weapon close by and then proceeding to climb in, rolling your body until the blanket covered your figure. A soft sigh leaves your lips before you lay on your back. Your eyes are closed and he wonders briefly what you could be dreaming about before deciding to take his mind off such things.

"A lady that can shoot a man, can't beat around the bushes, and a looker to boot..." Mingi said the words slowly, as if trying to digest the fact. "Who would've thought?"

Yunho thinks back on his experiences with women, from the social butterflies at parties to the women who had gone starry eyed and then fallen to their knees in front of him, pleading. But you were different. You weren't a proper lady or a demure creature that existed to keep the men's hearts aflutter and their imaginations afire, which wasn't uncommon.

If he's honest, he much prefers your company. While he is a gentleman to the core, he doesn't know what exactly he likes best about you. Yunho ponders a bit more. He considers a lot of things before his friend elbows him and his attention shifts back to the real world.

"She's something, alright. One hell of a woman, is all," he responded quietly. He's also very much attracted to you and he'd love nothing more than to charm you. That would definitely take the cake for the grandest adventure of them all.

Mingi sighs.

Both the men hunker down in their spots, curling together for warmth as the cool mountain air blows through. The scent of grass and fresh air blows past their noses as they doze off to sleep.

It's been an awfully long day.

After all, everyone was snoring the night away.

When Mingi stirs awake, there's a good number of the gang up and preparing to get moving. Breakfast is hot, and with a sweet note, the outlaws treat their two hostages with kindness. After all, you had warned everyone before you went to sleep the previous night: anyone who threatened either hostage would find themselves in hot water. And you weren't kidding when you meant it.

You saddled the horses and each rider got ready. Yunho and Mingi were settled in the wagon as the riders surrounded the cart. Today was another long trip, but you can see the excitement in their eyes, especially the hostages who seemed curious and wondering when the ride would finally come to an end.

"You got a destination in mind?" Yunho calls out suddenly. He doesn't know why he decides to break the silence, but your face says it all when he sees you look at him and roll your eyes.

"Now why would I tell you that?" You snorted. "After all, there would be no real reason for either of you to know where we're heading."

"If we're just baggage, then I don't see the point of you hiding the fact," Mingi shrugged. "We'll find out once the days out."

"There's the next town westward where I'm planning on getting to sooner than later. Besides, what kind of bandits would we be if we revealed our hideouts?" You explain, keeping a watchful eye.

Mingi shrugs and makes an innocent expression. "No idea. You'd have to be real dumb for that. Guess not."

"Just hush up and behave. You two won't get hurt so long as we move along," you keep the wagon moving and ignore the quips and questions they throw.

Once at the gates of the town, a couple of the bandits lead the way. Wooyoung, San, Jongho, and Yeosang line up along the streets as the few people in town waved at you.

"Y/N! You're back!"

"Yay! They're back!"

Children giggled and waved their hands with happy smiles on their lips as they jumped. "Hello!"

You laugh softly when a couple of small children rush up to see their uncles. Each member happily interacts and takes the time to see the small children that had grown since the last time you all were in this part. You smile and pat the children on the back as you watch everyone settle into town.

"For an outlaw, she seems very loved by the townsfolk and children," Mingi muttered to Yunho.

Hongjoong hears this and raises an eyebrow. "She's not as bad as you two think."

"He's right, we don't follow her because she threatens our families. None of us are family here," Seonghwa cuts in, pointing at the men, women, and children around him and back in your direction. "These people...they are family. This is home. She takes care of them, protects them."

Yunho purses his lips, waiting for more, but Hongjoong continues, "Before all this, we had no place to call home. Y/N took us in, helped all of us find somewhere we could belong. Even if we wanted to leave, she wouldn't force us to stay, we'd be allowed to go. She won't shoot you and leave you out to die. But we're a family."

Jongho sighed, watching a small child giggling at you as she clung to your leg, "As an orphan, and someone who grew up without a family, seeing a home and a family like this? It gives me a reason for hope in a world full of strife and destruction, but when you meet a person like her..."

Yeosang hummed in agreement. "A woman that has such a strong love for children, and looks out for them as if they were her own? That alone is precious. But even then...that's not the main reason we follow her."

San nodded. "Sure she robs trains and banks...but all that money and gold she steals? It's not for her own use. She's done nothing for herself and gave us a new start in life."

Wooyoung lets out a sigh. "It's for these people. It's the children...we protect them because they have no one. For the women whose men go off and die on a battlefield, they have a way to live. For the men who can't work, can't find jobs and are struggling...for the elders whose children no longer can provide for them, or the people who have no one? They're everything."

"Y/N is a good woman," Seonghwa smiled. "We wouldn't leave her, just as she would never leave us either."

Mingi and Yunho exchanged a look as they turned to you. This revelation had surprised them and both decided to wait and see, for if what they heard is true, perhaps they had judged you a bit too rashly.

A child ran towards the wagon and peered up at them before looking at Wooyoung. "Who are they, Uncle Woo?"

"These guys are Yunho and Mingi, little ones," you came up, stroking the kids' head gently and the child cooed with joy.

"They look funny," another added as Mingi grinned at the kid. Yunho simply chuckled in amusement.

A few children crowded the wagon, wanting to see the strangers. You put them at ease, saying a few friendly words. Mingi reached forward to tickle one.

"He's pretty," one of the little girls pointed at Mingi and giggled.

You couldn't help but laugh. "He is, isn't he?"

One of the boys looked up at Yunho. "He's like a giant, Y/N!"

A second boy clapped. "Giant man!"

You smile widely. "Don't be so mean now. Come on, everyone."

The children jump and dance as they walk after you, chanting the phrase and a group of men soon join them. It was a rather humorous thing, having kids chanting 'giant man', to see Yunho so embarrassed. Mingi held a big smile as you listened to the children.

“Where did you pick them up?” a child asked curiously.

“Is one of them going to be your husband, Y/N?” a child asked innocently.

“No!” another child declared, “I think they're going to be like the other uncles!”

The children are merciless and relentless. Their teasing was making you laugh out loud and in return, that brought a blush to Mingi and Yunho's cheeks. A couple of kids gathered near Wooyoung. He glanced down before smiling.

"They really like their uncles," Mingi pointed.

Yunho smiled as he leaned back. "Look at that smile."

The outlaws were taken away with all the people and their families, greeting them with waves and smiles as a celebration appeared to be prepared for the whole afternoon and evening. You looked over to your hostages as a grin overtook your lips. "How would you fellas feel about enjoying a drink with me? You both could join the fun while we get ourselves set."

"Well we've come all this way..." Mingi murmured before a smirk found its way to his lips. "Why not enjoy ourselves a bit?"

Yunho nodded along, smiling in turn as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I had a good time."

You patted their shoulder, steering the two to a building. "Then, follow me."

Entering a saloon, Mingi and Yunho glanced around, eyeing the decorum that was inside the room. There are a couple of rooms and a stage that sat at the side of the establishment, a long bar at the opposite side, and in between, there is a seating area where some people sat. The two friends sit down with you at the bar.

A middle aged gentleman who happens to be the owner of the bar sees you and greets you in kind, happy that you came with guests.

"Goodness, and who are the two tall men accompanying you, Y/N?" His gentle eyes are wide, but not in a judgmental way, he seems quite pleasant.

You gesture your hand at the two gentlemen behind you. "This here's Mingi and Yunho, we've run into a bit of a...situation on the road. Decided to bring them in."

The older man hummed and tapped his finger on his cheek, grinning. "Ah, I understand."

Yunho decided to jump into the conversation. "You're very close with the townsfolk."

"Close may be one way to put it," you sigh. "Though...in reality, they're family."

“Family…?” Yunho asked, confused.

“That’s right,” you said. “These folks don’t have much to their name. And if it means using the money from robbing a few trains and banks? To ensure everyone is fed, clothed, and to take care of their loved one’s funerals or needs if it’s too late, it’s worth the price of jail or hanging for the consequences,” you finished firmly.

"Y/N here funded the saloon with business owners when they moved into town, helped the farmstead with the seedlings and labor," the older gentleman added as he cleaned a mug with a cloth. "Even has a doctor working for the people."

Yunho raised a brow, staring at the wooden surface of the bar top in front of him, deep in thought. When his attention shifts to you, he opens his mouth, hoping the question will do well. "I want to understand...so how does this work? No sheriff in sight, people all living this comfortably?"

The old man shakes his head. "No, there's no law man to protect us here...but Y/N and her gang have. We all know that she comes from good money and she could have looked the other way. But she didn't. We're like an oasis for all these folks."

"So they know you're an outlaw?" Yunho asks you.

"What about other cowboys that bother this town?" Mingi wonders.

The bar keeper smiles as he pours you, Mingi, and Yunho a pint of liquor.

"Mostly the town does have good relationships with all the ranchers and cattlemen here," the bartender states. "Of course, we've also met with the wrong people, but there is a small ranch that we've reached a deal with to handle such people should they happen."

You raise your glass towards the man and take a deep breath, exhaling the tension away. "Everyone here knows what I am and don't worry about any other issues coming here. The neighboring ranches tend to mind themselves, but most are on friendly terms with the town so it makes life pretty peaceful."

"Well that's certainly something," Mingi sniffs the mug that had been placed in his hands and shrugs his shoulders. He figured it wouldn't hurt and brought the drink to his lips. "And it's hard to not see why the people adore you. You and your gang are really good people. Never would have pegged you for a villain in a story."

"Did you think I was a villain?" You gave him an amused smile.

"Yeah, kind of. What do you expect? It's not every day that a group of train robbers shows up, scaring the bejesus out of a man like myself, and bringing me, another poor soul into whatever life altering plan they might have, let alone bringing us back to a home full of people, children, and the elderly," Mingi offered, sarcasm heavily dripped in his voice. He rolls his eyes for added measure. "The imagination runs wild in times of panic."

Yunho furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, in our defense, a group of strangers showing up, guns out and all, then ropes our arms up and threatens to kill us should we move the wrong way, does tend to rattle the bones."

"But you're the one who flirted with me, big boy. Should we rehash the details of that whole conversation?" you grinned at him and raised a brow in his direction, wanting a good reaction.

Yunho looked up to the ceiling, gulping the last of his beverage with ease, a handsome blush crossed his features.

You'd always taken to a bit of flirtatious ways, not very reserved, but charming nonetheless. Seeing this rugged and handsome man flush with color from simple flattery, only egged you on further to see what other emotions you could muster from the beautiful and curious man. You had to admit Yunho was more your type of man but Mingi certainly had a very nice personality.

Both were rather attractive in your book.

Mingi pokes fun at Yunho before clearing his throat and nudging him with his elbow. His partner swats him on the arm before turning his attention back to you. "Perhaps another drink would put me at ease."

"In my company, I wouldn't mind at all. It would be an absolute delight," you simper.

The bartender nods and makes two more pints. Once they were placed on the counter, the man gestures a nod in Mingi and Yunho's direction. The two drink once the mugs are near their lips.

"Alright, you lot had me wrong, that was rude on my part," Mingi spoke before raising his mug, signaling his admission of apology. "There are a good lot here."

The older man and you take a drink in solidarity with him.

Yunho shares a genuine smile. "Well, thank you for the peace of mind that we have in our lives for now. Maybe...things could work."

You grin back. "Well, I'm glad to have both of your understanding."

"Is everyone ready for dinner?" Hongjoong shouts, breaking the three's conversation and the crowd cheered in return.

Children scamper away and adults gather outside for dinner. A few people were cooking in front of the bonfire outside the establishment, the women prepared the food as the rest of the gang sat with you.

"Yay, uncle Mingi and uncle Yunho will be able to join us today!" The little girl from earlier happily declared their presence and both men gave her soft smiles.

"Look, she's already calling you uncle." You pointed out.

"Come here, little missy," Mingi knelt down, beckoning the girl over.

You couldn't help the little hiccup in your chest when she came bounding over happily. Her soft plush face had a pink hue across her cheeks and she held a soft look. She really was cute as can be and even though the man before you was the opposite in height and temperament, the sight had you falling fast.

She sat on his lap and leaned back, resting against his large torso as they watched the sky start to brighten up with more orange streaks than red and pink hues. She whispers something in his ear and you couldn't help but see Mingi's cheeks redden. The child leans up to whisper in Yunho's ear and asks him most likely the same question since his cheeks flushed after listening to her as well. You watched as she ran away to throw herself in Yeosang's lap as he played and made faces to make her giggle.

"Well, what did she ask you?" You asked after sitting on the porch between them.

Yunho and Mingi fumbled a bit as they glanced at one another before Yunho began, "Missy wanted to know when we were going to marry you."

You blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the straightforward nature of the question. Mingi couldn't help but look up towards the sky.

Your jaw dropped at the bold question and you tilted your head to the side with interest. "Oh yeah? What did you tell her?"

They glance between one another before Mingi pipes up, "Told her we'd probably marry if you were down to have an arrangement. Not that she needed to know that last part."

The atmosphere changes with the different shades of lights. More reds and darker pinks painted the skies, bright and vivid, mixing to a light orange and gold color that brings a sense of peaceful tranquility to everyone.

You smiled at their answer and laughed at Mingi's last sentence. "Probably be married huh? It's been years since I've thought of marriage. Ever since I ran away."

"What's stopping you?" Yunho asked with a mischievous lilt, clearly feeling himself under your influence of mirth. "There's no real reason not to get married if you and another fancy it."

You purse your lips in thought, playing with the brim of your cowboy hat. "Who would want someone like me? As a bandit, my days are always in danger."

"We might," the taller man spoke without any sort of shame.

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “Honey, you both couldn't keep up with me, that's no way to start a marriage.”

"Didn't mean to brag but...I'm no weak man," Yunho smirked and leaned close, resting an elbow on his knee.

Your own smile tugged up as a breeze blows past the three of you and ruffles your hair. You reach forward and rest your hand against Yunho's arm and smile softly. "Is that right? Because I like to ride long and hard at night."

Mingi stared wide-eyed at the double meaning while you fluttered your eyelashes.

Yunho sits up with a broad smirk, his smile teasing and gentle in a way he didn't want to stop, enjoying himself, letting himself unravel before your gaze as you invited him in. "Oh darlin'...I wouldn't mind seeing that."

A full grin appears on your face. You stand up slowly, bending towards Yunho with your chin lifted in pride. You meet his eyes, watching with awe when his attention travels across your facial features. A rush of delight flooded your senses with the feel of his heavy, loving gaze on you.

Yunho let his smile grow a touch wild as you ran a hand over his cheek gently before tugging his face by his chin, a silent command to listen closely. Mingi stares, enamored by the atmosphere. "I ride slow, darling, slow and steady. Feeling everything at a pleasant pace."

With an inhale, Yunho leaned further, a fire kindled in his heart with no intention of taming. Just as he did, Mingi leaned his head in your direction, his hand brushing the loose strand away from your eyes and to your ear. He gently tucked it behind and kept his fingers over your skin, warm and soft under his caress.

The sensuality of the moment lulls. Mingi and you stare at each other, observing the hunger brewing within your shared gaze and you press a hand over his lips to signal his end, waiting until you receive an answer from your last statement to Yunho. The large cowboy took a deep breath in and brought his cheek to the back of your fingers, placing a tender kiss to your skin before pulling back to observe.

With a playful nip to your fingertips, Yunho mumbled, his low, velvety tenor caused heat to pool in your stomach. "I hear what you're saying, sweetheart."

The brush of a finger to the back of your neck and you can see how Mingi was looking at you, the shine to his brown eyes reflecting the gold and orange lights as you stare and drop your hand back down to your side. Your hand naturally presses along Yunho's shoulder and takes hold of Mingi's sleeve with a subtle tug that beckons their closeness.

"Shame," you mutter as you grip their collars to pull the pair towards the entrance to the saloon.

Mingi leaned to your side with his face pressed against your ear. The heat and deep voice sent a shiver down your body. You can feel the way the gentle weight of Yunho's chest pressed against yours when he whispered, "Don't you want to see where the three of us can lead to?"

You let out a small laugh, your hand cupping his cheek. "Not tonight boys, not just yet."

You watched as Yunho and Mingi happily played with the children, sharing stories from back home, telling tall tales, and entertaining the small community of misfits. Their infectious and open nature charmed all those around. It brought a sense of whimsical air that you didn't have a chance to breathe often, to just allow yourself a moment to relish in the simplicity of laughter and peace.

It was soothing.

"They seem to be fitting in well," Seonghwa offered his greeting after walking towards where you stood on the porch to the saloon. "The children seem to love them. And the adults too. I'd say it's because they bring new energy and energy for such folks is much appreciated."

"New stories. New tales," you added.

"Oh? Have you taken a liking to the hostages?" Hongjoong chuckles as he hands the two of you a mug with drink. He knows exactly the situation as it played out. He doesn't have anything but fondness in his eyes, seeing how fond you've become with the two of them and you shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe they'll leave someday and I'll just miss the company of a handsome fellow. You can never have enough," you muse out loud. Hongjoong let his brow rise at you but couldn't hold back a teasing grin. He bumped shoulders, earning a hum of contemplation.

"Look, you know damn well you're the boss and none of us would stand between you and whatever makes you happy," Seonghwa answers. "But two businessmen? Y/N, they're from well-respected families and I'm sure men like them would want well-respected ladies."

"I know, Hwa," you huffed. "But I used to be one of those well-respected ladies. And you both were once those well-respectable gentlemen. Things change."

"Do you miss home, Y/N?" Seonghwa's question cut straight to the bone, digging into your chest in a way you hadn't considered. He notices it and so does Hongjoong who tried his best to let you come to a resolution yourself.

"No," you muttered, eyes never leaving the town, the lively noises, and the scent of cooked meat and sweets filling the atmosphere. "This is our home. These people need us and we wouldn't ever abandon them."

Hongjoong gulped down his mug, set it down, and leaned on the post, staring into the sky before continuing his line of thought. "Y/N. No matter who we are, and who they were...I know neither of us can go back and none of us should ever try and go back. We can only live right now. So, does it really matter? You've been with other cowboys before...surely rich boys aren't much of a different kind of challenge."

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

"It'll take a lot to hurt me, Hwa," you smiled at him. "But thank you for looking out for me."

Yunho and Mingi gaze in your direction and share a curious expression. One with a pink hue adorning the apples of his cheeks and the other with a hand scratching the back of his neck. They notice the stares directed towards them and share a shy, tiny smile with one another.

"But maybe this time, I don't mind taking a risk or two," you added as a sigh, a tiny sigh slipped past your lips, accompanied by a rosy pink that tinted your cheekbones. The edges of your lips curved up in the slightest to form a small and amused smile at the two.

"Taking a risk, huh?" Hongjoong mused, following your gaze to Yunho and Mingi. "Well, can't say I blame you. They do seem like decent fellas."

You hummed in agreement, watching as Yunho lifted a small boy onto his shoulders while Mingi dramatically acted out a story for the other children. Their laughter rang out across the town square.

"Decent indeed," you murmured.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the town, you found yourself drawn to where Yunho and Mingi were still entertaining the children. Their infectious laughter and easy smiles had captivated not just the little ones, but many of the adults as well.

You approached just as Mingi was wrapping up an elaborate tale, complete with exaggerated gestures that had the kids in stitches. Yunho caught your eye and gave you a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.

"Alright kiddos, I think it's about time we let these fine gentlemen get some rest," you announced, chuckling at the chorus of disappointed groans.

"But Y/N, can't they stay up a little longer?" one of the young girls pleaded, tugging on your sleeve.

"Now, now, don't you worry. I'm sure Mr. Yunho and Mr. Mingi will be happy to tell you more stories tomorrow," you said, ruffling the little girl's hair affectionately. "But for now, it's time for bed."

With a few more grumbles and pouts, the children reluctantly said their goodnights and scampered off to their homes. You turned to Yunho and Mingi, who were both looking a bit worn out but still smiling.

"You two certainly have a way with kids," you remarked. "I haven't seen them this excited in ages."

Yunho chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're great kids. Reminds me of home a bit."

"Got some little ones waiting for you back East?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

"Oh no," Yunho clarified quickly. "Just some younger cousins and neighbors' kids I used to look after sometimes. No little ones of my own."

You felt a small sense of relief at that, though you tried not to examine why too closely. "What about you, Mingi? Any family waiting on you?"

Mingi shook his head. "Nah, it's just been me and Yunho for a while now. We came out West to start fresh, make our own way."

"And instead you got kidnapped by a gang of outlaws," you said with a wry smile. "Not quite the fresh start you were hoping for, I imagine."

Yunho and Mingi exchanged a look, then Yunho spoke up. "You know, it hasn't been all bad. This place, these people... it's not what we expected, but there's something special here," Yunho said thoughtfully. "I can see why you care for them so much."

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. "They're good people who've been dealt a tough hand. They deserve better than what this world's given them."

"And you've made it your mission to provide that," Mingi observed. "It's admirable, really."

You shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious under their earnest gazes. "I do what I can. It's not always pretty or legal, but..."

"But it's necessary," Yunho finished for you. "We get it. Or at least, we're starting to."

A comfortable silence fell between the three of you as you watched the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky. You looked at them curiously. “How was your first night sleeping in town? The rooms above the saloon, okay?”

Mingi nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "It was comfortable, thank you. Certainly beats sleeping on the hard ground or in the back of a wagon."

"Though I must admit, I did miss the stars," Yunho added with a chuckle. "There's something about sleeping under that big open sky that's hard to beat."

You couldn't help but smile at that. "I know what you mean. Even after all this time, I still prefer a bedroll under the stars to a proper bed most nights."

"Is that why you're out here instead of tucked away at your house?" Mingi asked, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

You shrugged, feeling a bit exposed under their gazes. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. Plus, someone's got to keep an eye on things."

"Always the protector," Yunho murmured, his voice soft with admiration.

You felt a flush creep up your neck at his words and the intensity of his gaze. Clearing your throat, you gestured towards the saloon. "Well, it's getting late. We should probably turn in for the night."

As you started to walk away, Mingi called out, "Y/N, wait."

You turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

Mingi and Yunho exchanged a look before Mingi continued, "We've been talking, and... well, we were wondering if maybe we could stick around for a while. Help out around town, you know?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you kept your expression neutral. "Oh? And what brought this on? I thought you two were eager to start your new lives out West."

Yunho stepped forward, his expression earnest. "We were, but...this place, these people. It's opened our eyes to something we didn't expect to find out here. There's real community here, real purpose. And if we can help in some small way, well, that seems like a better use of our time than chasing after some vague dream of striking it rich."

You studied them both carefully, searching for any sign of deception. But all you saw was sincerity in their eyes. Still, you couldn't help but be cautious. "And what about your families back East? Your old lives? You'd be giving up a lot to throw your lot in with a bunch of outlaws."

Mingi shrugged, a wry smile on his face. "To be honest, there wasn't much holding us there anyway. That's why we came West in the first place. To find something more."

You studied them carefully, taking in their earnest expressions. Part of you wanted to believe them, to welcome them into the fold without hesitation. But years of living on the edge had taught you to be cautious, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

"And you think you've found that 'something more' here?" you asked, keeping your tone neutral. "With a gang of outlaws and a town full of misfits?"

Yunho's eyes softened as he gazed at you. "We've found more here in a few days than we did in years back East. There's a real sense of purpose, of family. It may not be conventional, but it feels right."

Mingi nodded in agreement. "Plus," he added with a playful smirk, "the company's not bad either."

You felt a blush creep up your neck at his words, but you pushed it down, maintaining your composure. "Well, I appreciate the sentiment, boys. But this isn't an easy life. It's dangerous, unpredictable. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Yunho stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours. "You left the life of comfort, the life of a respected lady to be an outlaw. Surely there must've been moments where you didn't want this life, times where you were scared. But you didn't allow it to get in your way."

Mingi puffed his chest confidently and grinned. "If you could leave that life, then we can too."

"You're right," you said softly, meeting Yunho's intense gaze. "I did leave that life behind. And it wasn't easy. But I've never regretted it, not for a moment."

You paused, looking between Yunho and Mingi. Their earnest expressions tugged at something deep in your chest.

"This life... it's not for everyone," you continued. "It's hard, and dangerous, and there are days when I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. But then I look at these people, this town we've built together and I know it's worth it."

Yunho stepped forward, his eyes shining with determination. "We want to be part of that. We want to help, in whatever way we can."

Mingi scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "I'm not as strong as you or the rest of your gang. I wouldn't survive as an outlaw. But I could use my skills as a businessman to help this town."

"And I, at the very least, know how to shoot," Yunho added with a determined tone to his voice. "So I can help protect the town when you and your gang aren't here."

You studied them both carefully, weighing their words against your own instincts. Finally, you nodded slowly.

"Okay," you said softly. "But if you're going to stay here, if you're going to become part of this life, I need your word. You'll put the needs of this community ahead of your own. You'll lay your life on the line to protect it, to protect the people who call it home."

Yunho stepped forward, his hand brushing against yours, a spark shooting up your arm at the touch. "I swear. Mingi and I, we've been looking for this place, this feeling... and we aren't letting it slip away."

Mingi licks his lips and looks up with wide, sincere eyes. "I swear as well. I'll protect this town with my last breath if I have to."

His sincerity surprises you. You stand tall and let them come a few steps closer before you move again. This time, you choose to face them and hold their attention. Mingi and Yunho both take deep breaths and widen their gaze as you slowly grab their wrist to check their pulses. The pound and heat rising off them surprises you a little. You smile at them in assurance as you reach to them again to brush a touch over each of their chests. It's hard not to feel the rise and fall as they take slow, deep breaths. "Welcome home."

"Thank you," Yunho says softly.

"I'll let the others know our guests have decided to settle in," you said, noting how the heat from their skin remains long after you move. "You both obviously need a permanent place to stay...unless..."

The slight inflection, the bit of heat in your voice, causes their pupils to dilate a bit.

"Yes?" Mingi murmurs.

"Unless...you'd be open to living with me?" Your heart is hammering. You've been so used to a rough kind of touch that anything a bit soft makes you almost...relaxed.

"Live," Yunho starts. "...with you?"

You can't hold their gaze anymore, eyes shyly trailing off as you laugh to ease the situation. It sounds breathy and unsure, like your body is too full of excitement to allow any of your normal confidence out.

"I mean if not, no big deal!" You assured, letting go of their arms and backing away to create space between you. "If you're happy with a room at the saloo‒"

"No!" Mingi grabs at your wrist, not roughly or meanly, but firmly enough that it gives your stomach a light flutter. His eyes are wide. "I don't. I'm not happy with the room. I like... I like what's on offer here."

You lick your dry bottom lip. "...Yeah?"

He's blushing. Blushing for you. For the first time, his gaze drifts down your front and back to your face. "...yeah. I'm more interested in the lady giving the offer, anyhow."

"Thank you, pretty boy," you manage a low rumble of a chuckle before turning to Yunho. "And you? What do you think, big boy?"

Yunho holds your gaze for a long moment, his dark eyes studying you carefully. He's silent for so long that you start to think he's not going to respond, when suddenly, a smile breaks across his face, warm and genuine and absolutely captivating.

"Yeah," he murmurs softly. "I'd be open to sharing that sort of life with you."

The months began to pass slowly. At times it seemed endless but Hongjoong said that winter would surely roll around soon. At least, you hoped it would. Living in a desert was brutal and hard. But you and your gang made sure to stock up the necessities for the townsfolk in case they were to suffer a shortage. You didn't want anybody dying or suffering at the hand of a lack of resources. Not on your watch.

After striking another deal with the ranchers and the cattlemen to help feed the people in exchange for protection, you'd successfully purchased several extra wagons with livestock, food and medicine. In return, the merchants of the town helped repair damaged furniture or clothing from the group. Some made trinkets and food out of the donations from others in the nearby city.

Yunho sat on the steps of the general store while you stood by his side. It had been a particularly busy week getting the money. You'd raided an abandoned train car with bags full of bills and cash that prior bandits left behind. Most of the money was safe and stored up in the old mine, along with other valuables. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but it was worth it for those in need.

The more the town gained, the less they had to live from day to day. There were more houses being built and trade routes coming in to make the town richer in one way or another. It wasn't perfect but it was a step in the right direction. You'd done the impossible. You'd changed lives.

"You think we should go good at some point?" Yunho asked, rolling the brim of his hat back. "Become some lawmen for our people?"

"Maybe," you mused. "If that's what they need from us. Then yes, maybe we should give it a try."

He hummed. "Imagine if you and the others turned good."

"Hey, the guys would make excellent sheriffs and deputies," you nudged his shoulder with your arm as he laughed.

Mingi emerged from the building to join you two, taking his hat off and waving it to get the sweat off his brow. "Hotter than blazes."

"Stay cool, pretty boy," you patted his cheek. "Don't need you burning up."

"Too late," he countered. "I've been burning from you this whole time."

You snort. "Keep that talk for the bedroom, cowboy."

His smile stretched wider. "Deal."

As time passed, your relationships changed. While nothing official was announced, the whole town seemed to understand what was happening as Yunho and Mingi started to live with you in your homestead. They'd ask about the supplies, what the people needed, and they'd help bring in shipments whenever they could. They both quickly made friends among the townsfolk, and were eager to prove their worth. It made you feel a swell of pride and love to see them fitting in, belonging. They felt a sense of community and it was obvious in the way they held themselves, their posture loosened. The rigidity in their expressions became relaxed and they didn't have to glance at the exits to ensure an exit route.

This was their home.

Both boys kept your bed nice and warm every night, and spent most days working in the fields, repairing buildings, fixing and patching clothes. Mingi was more adept with numbers and working out trade, Yunho was more in the line of law and justice.

Mingi would write a letter here and there to their extended families back east. Their families seemed thrilled they finally found stability in such a remote area, having lived an extravagant life before and leaving for the opportunity. They hadn't told them the truth, so they hadn't told them you were wanted, dangerous criminals. In their words, you were a town hero and were settling down from your rowdy youth. Which, from what you understood, wasn't too far off the truth, so you just played along. You tried to focus on the positives in life, not the negatives. It was healthy that way.

"What are you thinking about, love?" Yunho asked one night. His broad hands grabbed onto your thighs, gently pulling them apart.

Mingi rested on the pillow and bit his bottom lip as he watched you squirm at Yunho's soft teasing.

You swallow.

"Just...thinking," your face feels hot and you groan softly. "Keep...please..."

Yunho's large hands trailed along the inside of your bare thighs and goosebumps erupted along your skin. His fingers ran in lazy circles around the junction of where your thigh ended and where you really wanted him, tracing maddening paths closer, but not close enough. Your breath hitched as his fingers grazed the sensitive skin and a low, desperate whimper escaped.

Mingi shifted beside you, his large hand caressing the side of your head to watch the way you fell apart between them.

"Look at you," Yunho hums. "Aching for me. For us. Falling to pieces and I haven't even done anything yet."

You open your mouth to protest but it comes out as an undignified moan as his fingers make contact. Yunho chuckled and slipped the tip of a single finger past the tight, wet heat of your entrance, drawing another desperate sound from your lips as he pushed into you and gave you more.

“Think we can make you lose your mind, Y/N?” Yunho asked, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

You struggle to find an answer but all thought flees when another finger enters and scissors you open with a stretch. The way his thumb makes circles near your clit while he does it is agonizing.

You move your hips to get him deeper but he moves to keep the same pattern. Slow, soft strokes with his fingers, enough to drive you insane, and just far enough to deny your orgasm. It was hell, pure torture. Your legs quivered in effort, the build up within growing and growing.

"Y/N, can you be good for us and wait?" Mingi coos to your ear. "Let him enjoy you."

Yunho curls his fingers and begins a slow thrust into you. You're so turned on and desperate, it's almost embarrassing but fuck it, you love this. "So wet," Yunho hums to Mingi. "Just for us."

Mingi hums, hands coming to squeeze at your waist. "We love hearing your cute sounds," he rolls a nipple and presses kisses to your neck. "Let us hear you."

A whimper fell from your lips as your back arched, and you could see the way your stomach dipped at the action.

"I want to see you riding my fingers," Yunho says and grips at the underside of your ass, gently guiding your hips. "I know you've got a nice ass, let me see you use it."

"This isn't a good look for me," You shake your head a little bit, attempting to ignore the heat between your legs as Mingi trails kisses across your shoulder. "Like, not a good angle."

Mingi kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans as Yunho slowly guided you up and down onto his fingers and started a more feverish pace. The sounds were embarrassing. You whined, muffled into Mingi's mouth. He nipped at your lip and tongue, coaxing more from you as your hands clung to his hair.

"No one is here, love," Yunho mutters. "You can make all the pretty noises you want. It's just us here."

"Better hope no one...oh fuck, right there," you gasp.

They both grinned and Yunho stroked faster, your pants grew harder and more unhinged. You were desperate for more, legs quivering. He knew what he was doing with those long, pretty fingers of his, working into you and finding all the right places to drive you insane.

"So wet and ready," Yunho muttered, nipping your thigh and adding a third finger that had your mind swirling. "Do you feel good?"

"Yes!" You practically howled and gripped at Mingi. "Please..."

Mingi nuzzles your jaw and shushes you softly. "Tell him what you need, baby."

You rolled your hips to feel his fingers sink in deeper, each grind drawing out an embarrassing, desperate noise.

"So dirty, the way she's fucking herself," Mingi groans, low and hungry as he squeezes the curves of your waist.

Yunho spreads his fingers inside, opening you up, filling you with each thrust. His gaze is heated and full of dark amusement, taking in your writhing form.

You are so lost in the sensation, lost in the feeling of your blood flowing and moving with each steady thrust, but then he pulls out of you with a smirk and brings his fingers to his mouth with a long drag, licking his fingers clean.

"Can never let a meal go unfinished," he murmured and sank back on his elbows. "All of her."

He nuzzled his nose against the sensitive skin of your cunt, letting the sensation send sparks up your body, before languidly licking at your folds, his tongue parting you. He moved your legs to rest on his shoulder, allowing better access, and went to work cleaning you. The sudden intensity made you yelp, and as his tongue lavished the folds you became even louder. He added his hands into play and spread you apart with two long fingers, sucking the juices leaking.

You almost feel bad when his face gets absolutely drenched when he really starts going to town, making filthy slurping and sucking sounds that drown out the squelch of his tongue sliding between you. When he closes his eyes in delight and growls with pleasure, you're amazed by how hard it all gets him.

He's literally making the filthiest sounds, getting your arousal and your pussy all over his mouth and jaw, and he loves every minute of it.

"That's so hot," Mingi groans, rubbing his cock. "Baby, can you suck me off while he eats you out? Pretty please?"

He doesn't have to beg much as you take his cock into your hands, pumping him a few times to hear the low groans he lets out. Leaning forward, you suck him deep. He slides down your throat to the base, gagging you. Mingi is just the right size that you can swallow him entirely to the base. His tip tickles the back of your throat and his thighs quiver with every long lick.

The moment his tip touches the back of your throat is the moment his thighs twitch, and you love it. It makes you hungrier.

The feel of his heavy dick, throbbing on your tongue is exhilarating. You never think you'll have enough of him, his thick length and the taste, god, the taste of him always has you wanting more. More.

Yunho can't get enough of the sounds and has a hand gripping the flesh of your hip with bruising pressure as he continues devouring your pussy, tasting every inch. You're squeezing his face with your legs, fucking into his mouth, and Mingi's hands are woven into the hair on the sides of your head and he's now thrusting up to fuck your throat as you go slack, and you could melt completely and be content forever right here between them.

Suddenly Mingi hisses out your name and fucks into the wet warmth of your mouth a few last times, until he can't hold back anymore. He makes a wrecked sound and holds the base of his cock as he's cumming in your mouth, hot and tangy spurts shooting down your throat. It's been a long week, and the sight and feel of him using you like his own personal little cum bucket is the best way to end it, and he moans out your name and sends a happy tingling spark of electricity down your spine. You'd live like this, choking on his cum if you could.

Once he's spent, Mingi helps your head up, his body glistening with sweat from the high, his stomach muscles clenching, and your legs shaking. Mingi has you look at him, taking the messy sheen around your lips and dragging his tongue up to lick into your mouth, cleaning you. It's a sloppy, wet, messy kiss that ends with your stomach tight with pleasure and your muscles aching, and Yunho still has his head between your legs and is making a mess and the most obscene, filthy, wet sounds. The sight of you and Mingi kissing turns him on something fierce, and suddenly, the need for his release overwhelms him.

"Fuck, baby. I need to be in you," Yunho sits upright and drags his mouth up along the underside of your calf, sinking his teeth into the plush of your calf muscles, leaving angry red bite marks in his wake.

"Please," is all you can manage. Your legs are burning from holding themselves apart for his assault, and he is so fucking good at everything he does.

Yunho wipes his glistening, pink stained mouth with a grin, "How do you want me?"

"O-on your back," your throat feels dry and rough.

Yunho licks the leftover taste of you, looking absolutely devious. "Oh? Got some ideas?"

You're already moving to sit atop his thighs, guiding his stiff length along the wet entrance and teasing your clit. He bites his bottom lip and lays back with an appreciative groan. You don't hesitate to take what you need from him, sinking down and pressing him all the way in. Both of you groan at the way his cock throbs and stretches you.

"Need to ride this big boy," you purred. You pressed your hands into his chest and started grinding yourself on him, slow and easy. "Oh fuck, it feels so good."

Mingi rubs his own length to hardness, biting his lower lip as you start a rhythmic movement. He swoops in and presses kisses all across your shoulder blades, muttering softly, his words swallowed by the creak of the bed and Yunho's little gasps, "Love you like this. Fucking yourself on his dick."

It's hot to watch, and it has the two of you swapping a lewd, messy kiss. Your pace is frantic, hands kneading at his toned stomach, desperate for purchase. Yunho grabs hold of your thighs, bouncing you along his thick length. The sounds that escape you are dirty. Wet noises fill the air as he fills you up repeatedly.

"I think Mingi wants to be in you too, love," Yunho's dark eyes glint, and he pants. His handsome face is sweaty, but he doesn't stop thrusting himself up, sinking deeper. "Wouldn't that be good?"

"Yes..." you moaned. You reached out and gripped your asscheeks, spreading yourself wider. "Want to feel you both."

Mingi felt up the soft curve of your ass, appreciating you. His touch trailed, callused hands along the path of your spine and back, gentle. You couldn't help the excited smile on your face as his touch roamed, eyes glowing with love.

Then, Yunho lifted his legs up and sat himself more properly on the bed to watch Mingi position himself. You stopped rolling your hips, waiting for him with baited breath.

Yunho bent his knees, holding you close to his chest so you could enjoy his heartbeat as Mingi began sliding himself in your puckered hole.

"Shit..." Mingi hissed between his teeth.

"Fuck, Mingi," you cursed and buried your face into Yunho's shoulder as he held you up easily by the thighs, angling himself as Mingi pushed all the way in with a shaky, labored breath. The both of you remained motionless, waiting to let your bodies adjust to being so impossibly full.

"Just breathe, sweetheart," Yunho's lips flutter to your shoulder with tenderness and he groans as you shift. The first little roll of his hips is so teasing it drives you mad. He slides slowly back and then fills you again, and then he's rocking up into you at a delicious pace, and it feels so good it's got you whimpering. Mingi matches Yunho's movements and sets the same pace, keeping up a delicious rhythm.

"So, so good. Good girl," Yunho whispers into your ear. His voice was guttural and rich, his breath hitting your hot skin and sending electric waves throughout your body. "Such a good girl taking both of us."

Both are filling you so nicely. Each thrust pushes the breath from your lungs, has you desperately seeking him out again. When they're fucking you like this, there is no reason in the world other than their cocks slamming into you over and over. It feels heavenly; the both of them inside you, together. They fuck you so deep and good it has you squirming, not caring about the way you're drooling and clenching around both lengths, enjoying the stretch. Your legs feel like jelly as their hands roam, playing and exploring, worshiping.

It feels like a blissful eternity filled with nothing but the feel of their skin against yours.

Mingi's tongue trails along the side of your neck, humming with affection and breathlessness. His hands clutch you tightly, possessive, while he's pounding up into you, fucking himself closer to completion. "Fuck, let's switch. My knees are...shit...going..."

Mingi is flipped onto the bed now and you're riding him, just as he had suggested earlier. A grin is etched on his lips, his expression one of lazy bliss as his thumbs caress the sides of your waist. "Ready?"

"Oh yes please," Yunho answers, raring to go. He enters slowly from behind, causing Mingi to grunt and cling to you tighter. "Damn, Mingi stretched you out nice and good baby. Love how she feels."

Your walls convulse and grip them, a loud cry spilling as Mingi moans at the feel of you and Yunho groans, clutching the soft flesh of your rear. Mingi leans back against the wooden headrest, allowing you to fall into him and grip his shoulders. You moan into his mouth, and the kisses become filthy. You're utterly trapped and full and loving the pressure.

They thrust in alternates. One pushes while the other pulls out, and soon you can barely differentiate between them. Just full and full and full. And then you're gasping and moaning and practically fucking screaming their names, not caring in the slightest about the world around you.

"You okay, baby?" Mingi presses kisses against your hairline, fingers smoothing away the droplets of sweat gathering at the nape of your neck. "You can take a break."

"Never...no...no breaks," you gasp out. "Feels so damn good."

Yunho watches intently with half-hooded eyes, fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks to keep you apart and spread wide. The rhythm picks up faster, harder and it sends shock waves. Your toes curl. Mingi is sucking, laving, biting at every inch of skin he can get access to, leaving dark marks wherever his mouth touches, hands caressing your back with fondness.

It's so hot, everything from the wet sounds coming from below to the soft whimpers you can't help. It's messy and frenzied. Yunho is pounding into you while you roll your hips frantically against Mingi, feeling the hot pulsating sensations inside, desperate to have both inside as much and as deep as they can. It's electrifying, having Yunho pound up while Mingi pounds into you, a contrast between soft and deep, filling you up until all you can think of are their throbbing lengths and how much your body aches for them.

"Does Mingi feel good?" Yunho's lips nip at your shoulder blade, breath ghosting, tickling you. "His fat cock stuffed in you like that?"

"I‒" your mind is swimming, lips parted and dripping with the pleasure they're wrangling.

"You take us so well," Yunho groaned and increased the intensity, rocking himself into you. You can't speak coherently at the moment with their dicks in you, all you can do is whimper and mewl as you hold onto the last vestiges of your control. Their thrusts get you going, making your tummy light and buzzy. They fill you and the slide is slick with how soaked you are, making their thrusts all the more satisfying.

Their deep groans vibrate. Skin is on skin as their hips connect with a sinful smacking sound, and they fuck up into you and you're starting to shake and Mingi's warm arms and his smile, the way he sucks your bottom lip, his smell, Yunho's grunts, his low murmurs and the way his hands are so good at supporting you and taking care of you, how deep he can thrust—

The heat that washes over you as they cum together is sinfully exhilarating. Warm bursts fill you from both sides. Yunho burrows himself so deep, his hot cum gushing into you, and it fills you up until you're both dripping onto the sheets.

Your head is tucked in the crook of Mingi's throat, sucking on his collarbone when the feeling washes over. A lazy warmth crawls through your body and has you sagging, the pleasure having wrung your muscles dry. The wetness and fullness make the rest of your orgasm a happy mess, and you cry their names over and over, letting your muscles twitch and shiver, and the sensations are a gentle current rocking you and rippling through, washing all stress and thought from your mind.

This, right now, this is all that matters, you think.

This was all that mattered. Them.

Mingi pulls out with a shaky, breathless exhale and cradles you against him, the cum oozing down and leaking onto the blankets. You've ruined yet another set of sheets.

Yunho gives your pouty lips a long, deep kiss as his body settles beside Mingi's and you. The taste and feel of the kiss is what grounds you. As your racing pulse finally starts to settle down, Yunho looks as if he wants to say something. His features are sharp in the shadows of the lamplight, the orange glow emphasizing the sharp angles of his face.

He's absolutely gorgeous. And so is Mingi, who brushes the sweat-dampened strands off your cheeks and presses sweet, sloppy little smooches and praise all over your temple and cheeks, his smile infectious. They're both so stunning. It leaves your heart beating faster. You want to cup and memorize the plush curves and contours of Mingi's and Yunho's cheeks.

You're a sight to behold, heaped in between both men. It should have felt embarrassing and disgusting to be a mess of a human, lying limply amongst the filth, but the warmth they share leaves you comfortably and fully content. Their hair is disheveled and their sweaty bodies glisten, and they have not a care in the world but to take care of you. Yunho and Mingi whisper words of admiration and praise as their callused, weathered palms and hands rub circles into your thighs. The throb of afterglow has you almost purring in relief.

The moment you try sitting up though, your legs shake and cramp up. You fall with an unceremonious huff back onto the sheets. Mingi laughs loudly and Yunho can't help but snort. He's instantly up to get a cup of water.

"Don't push yourself so hard, sweetheart. Let's get you washed," Mingi peppers little kisses along your cheekbones, voice a little rough as he reaches out and accepts the warm cloth and wash basin from Yunho, getting you cleaned.

"Fuck," your throat feels so parched, it comes out scratchy and hoarse.

Yunho comes in close, kissing you on the lips, chaste and affectionate, "C'mon. Time to rest."

Mingi chuckles in your ear and eases you backwards onto the pillows, getting rid of the dirtied and tousled blankets and stuffing fresh, clean sheets underneath your tired body. Mingi hums and carefully combs away the curls from your eyes, watching you as your vision blurs and softens, sinking into the soft sheets.

"What's got you thinkin' so hard?" Yunho whispered, his fingertips tracing patterns across the sensitive skin of your hip, bringing his other arm around to pull you close, foreheads resting together. "Hm?"

"Nothing," you nuzzle against the cool curve of his neck, burying your face where his pulse is hammering. It calms you down. Yunho's heartbeat. Mingi's light, soft breathing as he starts to drift asleep. Everything is blissful. "Just happy. Really happy. Just how perfect this moment feels."

"Me too," Yunho hums, his voice sleepy and soft and deep as he hugs your waist. Mingi is hugging your torso from behind and the warmth makes you giggle a little with how safe and cozy you feel in their embrace.

The peace lulls you to a deep sleep. You don't have anything else in this world other than them. Mingi, and Yunho, and everything that comes after this blissful peace. All is as it should be and the feeling is perfect.

"Me too," Mingi whispers. "This. You. Us," He nudges his face against the soft curve of your back. "Love this. Love you."

"Mm," you giggled as you kiss the corner of Yunho's mouth lazily. Your eyelids are getting so heavy that you cannot see. A content, comfortable lethargy overtakes your body. "Love you both."

“Love you too,” Yunho finishes softly, his voice barely a whisper as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

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hoe4hotchner · 2 days

Text

With blood on his hands | [A.H]

Pairing: UnSub!Hotch x gn!reader CW: Dark. This story contains descriptions of graphic violence, murder, mental illness, grief, and emotional distress. Dark themes, betrayal, loss of control, and fear, kidnapping, physical aggression, helplessness. WC: 5.2k

Please don't request a part 2 unless you have a very specific idea, my brain physically couldn't come up with more plot for this.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Bearing signs of life throughout the whole layout of the building, yet the disturbing truth of what had happened made you uneasy.

It was the same scene they’d encountered twice already - an all-American family, slaughtered in their home, with no apparent struggle, no clear motive. A mother, a father, and their young son, all lying lifeless, their blood staining the carpets, their lives ruthlessly cut short.

You stood beside Rossi, your hands clad in gloves, and a frown etched upon your face as you surveyed the scene. The scent of blood and suffering hung heavy in the air, choking your senses. You had seen your fair share of horrors, but this was different. This unsub was different.

"Third one this week," Rossi murmured beside you, his voice gruff with exhaustion and irritation, feeling the weight of the case starting to take its toll. "We need to catch this guy before he strikes again."

You nodded, eyes scanning the room as your mind worked through the details. This unsub wasn’t just killing; he was destroying. The brutality of the murders suggested rage - deep and personal rage. There was a familiarity to the way everything was laid out that you couldn't put a finger on.

You stepped over to the nightstand, where the mother’s jewelry lay scattered. Your eyes caught a golden ring, glinting in the light. You reached for it instinctively, feeling a strange pull toward the piece of metal. It was simple but familiar, in a way that made your stomach churn with suspicion.

Frowning, you held it up to the light, inspecting it. That’s when it hit you like a punch to the gut.

You knew this ring.

Your blood ran cold as memories flooded your mind. Years of working alongside him, watching him fiddle with that exact band on long nights at the office, lost in thought as he processed information and clues. You had seen it on his finger countless times.

Hotch.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a dizzying sense of disbelief washing over you. There was no way. No possible way. You told yourself it was a mistake, that the stress of the case was playing tricks on your mind.

But the more you stared at the ring, the more your instincts screamed at you.

You weren't wrong about this.

You swallowed hard, slipping the ring back onto the dresser. Rossi hadn’t noticed your reaction, he was busy analyzing the scene with his usual calm efficiency. You forced yourself to stay composed, your mind racing.

The families. The pattern. A mother, a father, and a young son. Haley and Jack. It was so obvious.

It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Hotch's stressor… the deaths of his family. You remembered the way he had shut down after losing them, how the grief had changed him. But never in your worst nightmares could you have imagined this. This was not the man you knew.

You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning. You couldn’t tell Rossi - not yet - he wouldn't believe you. Wouldn't believe that his oldest friend was capable of this. Not until you were sure. Not until you’d seen Aaron, looked him in the eyes, and confronted him yourself. You owed him that much.

"Dave," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, "I’m going to head out. I need to check something."

He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "You okay? You look pale."

"I’m fine," you lied, offering a weak smile. "Just need to follow up on a hunch."

Rossi nodded, distracted by something on the floor, and you took the opportunity to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. You could barely keep your hands from trembling as you made your way out of the house and into your car. Thankfully you had arrived separately.

The drive to Aaron’s old house felt like a blur, your mind spinning with possibilities. Every part of you hoped you were wrong. That this was all some horrible mistake, that there was no way the man you had worked with for years could be behind these murders, that this was truly just some twisted dream, and that you'd wake up soon.

But deep down, you knew.

This was reality.

When you pulled up to Aaron’s house, the pit in your stomach deepened. His car was in the driveway, the lights inside the house dim and all the curtains closed. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. You had to confront him. You had to know the truth.

You walked up to the door, every step feeling like a death sentence. When you knocked, there was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Aaron, standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark and sunken, the weight of grief and something darker pressing down on him.

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You stared at him, your heart racing as you noticed the subtle signs - the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed at his sides. And most of all, the unmistakable wedding band missing from his finger.

"I…" you began, your voice trembling. "I need to talk to you."

Aaron’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You walked into the house, the air thick with tension, your nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave, to get out while you still had the chance. But you couldn’t. Not now.

As you stepped further into the room, your eyes landed on something that made your stomach drop - on the kitchen counter, barely noticeable, was a small streak of blood. Fresh blood.

Aaron closed the door behind you, the sound echoing ominously through the quiet house.

"You shouldn’t have come here," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, the realization crashing down on you with terrifying certainty. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just your old colleague. He wasn’t just the man that had been your boss. He was the unsub you were looking for. He was the monster you’d been chasing.

And now, you were alone with him.

Hotch stood over the lifeless body sprawled across the floor in his living room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his knuckles bruised and bloody. The man beneath him had been dead for several minutes now, his face a mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely recognizable.

Hotch’s fists clenched and unclenched, the blood dripping from his fingers painting the carpet with small, crimson pools. His heart was pounding, not from fear or guilt, but from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He should have felt something - regret, remorse, shame—but there was only emptiness. Nothingness. And rage.

The rage never left him. It simmered beneath the surface, a constant presence, threatening to consume him whole. After Haley and Jack, everything had spiraled. Their deaths had shattered the last bit of humanity he had clung to. He had tried, God knows he had tried, to be the man everyone needed. The leader. The protector. But after them, something inside him had broken, irreparably so.

At first, he had managed to keep it hidden. But over time, the mask had slipped, the cracks becoming impossible to cover. The anger had grown, festering like a disease, until it had taken over every part of him. It was easier this way. Easier to stop pretending to be the good guy, the man who saved lives, when all he wanted to do was destroy them.

Besides the way he had hurt Foyet had felt so good.

He turned his head, his gaze cold and calculating, as a knock landed on the door.

The scent of sweat hung thick in the air, and the room was suffocating with the tension of your predicament.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock, taking in the scene before you. The man on the ground, the blood, the violence. And Hotch. Not a single drop could be seen on his clothes. Only his hands bore signs of the crime. Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were frozen, paralyzed by the realization of what you were seeing. What he had done.

Hotch stared at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The look on your face - the fear, the disbelief - only fueled the fire inside him. For a moment, there was silence, an unbearable tension hanging between the two of you.

Then, he spoke. His voice was low, a growl barely restrained by the thin thread of control he had left within him.

“You really shouldn’t have come here.” He repeated his previous statement

You blinked, finally finding your voice. “Aaron... what have you done? This isn't you.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something unrecognizable. He took a step toward you, the cold gleam in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “I did what needed to be done.”

You could barely breathe, your mind racing as you tried to process what had happened. This wasn’t the man you knew. The man you had worked with for years, the man you had trusted. The man you had secretly loved. He terrified you now. This was someone else entirely - a predator, who was cold and unfeeling.

“Aaron, please...” Your voice shook as you took a step back, instinctively retreating from the danger that loomed before you. “You don’t have to do this.”

His eyes flashed with anger, and in an instant, he was on you, his hand gripping your arm with a force that made you wince. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell me what I have to do. You don't know anything”

You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the fear coursing through you. “This isn’t you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not a killer.”

His grip tightened, and you gasped, pain shooting through you as you felt him slightly twisting your arm. “Aren’t I?” His voice was sharp and dangerous. “Do you know what it feels like, to lose everything? Watching them die? Knowing you couldn’t stop it? Knowing that you weren't fast enough?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away from him, but his hold was unrelenting. “Aaron, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “This won’t bring them back. What Foyet did was terrible.”

For a moment, you thought you saw something - some flicker of humanity cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by cold indifference. He released you, shoving you back roughly. You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

Hotch stood there, his eyes burning with fury, his hands still stained with blood. “Don't tell me what's right or wrong. They’re gone and nothing can bring them back,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice void of emotion. “There’s nothing left for me but this.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There’s more to you than this. You’re better than this, Aaron. I know you are.”

He laughed, a bitter, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. “Better? Better for who? For you? For the bureau didn't trust me to be in the field after what happened?” His eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the hatred radiating off him. “Do you really think you know me? The man I am now?”

You didn’t answer, too afraid of what he might do next. His rage was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room, choking you with its intensity.

He moved toward you again, his eyes wild, his movements erratic. “You think you can save me? Is that it? You always had a savior complex, just like Morgan.” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can’t save me. No one can.”

You trembled under his touch, your heart thrashing in your chest, trying to claw its way out as his fingers dug into your skin. For a moment, you thought he might hurt you, that you might face the same predicament as the lifeless body in his living room. That he might go too far. But then, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

He released you, stepping back, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands shook as he wiped them on his pants, the blood smearing across the fabric. He looked at you, something dark and broken in his eyes. “You should leave,” he said, his voice hollow as he turned his back to you.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Aaron—”

“Go.” His voice was cold, final. There was no room for argument.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between the part of you that wanted to stay, to help him, and the part that knew he was too far gone. Finally, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked toward the door, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

As you reached the doorway, you turned back to look at him one last time. He was standing in the center of the room, staring down at his blood-stained hands, his expression unreadable.

“Aaron,” you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

But he didn’t look back. He didn’t say a word. And as you stepped out into the night, the door closing behind you with a soft click, you knew that the man you had once known was gone.

The door had barely closed behind you when Hotch’s mind snapped back into a cold calculation. He could still feel the sting of your words in the air, your plea for him to stop. You should leave, he’d told you. But now, as silence wrapped around him, a horrifying realization dawned - you knew of him.

Who else knew?

You were the only one who had seen him like this, who knew what he had done. The team… They would never believe it on their own. Not until you told them, he was sure of that. But what evidence did you have to back up your claim?

His pulse quickened. His anger, momentarily soothed by the violence he'd unleashed, flared again. He couldn’t let you leave. He wouldn’t.

He moved quickly, his body still humming with adrenaline. You had made it to the end of the driveway when you heard him behind you. His footsteps were heavy and purposeful. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Aaron?" you called over your shoulder, your voice trembling. But there was no response, only the oppressive sound of his approaching footsteps. Fear gripped you.

Before you could take another step, he was on you. His strong hand wrapped around your wrist like a vice, yanking you back toward him with brutal force. You gasped, struggling against his hold, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, his expression dark and twisted as he dragged you back into the house, thankful that he and Haley had bought a house in a secluded area.

"You thought you could just walk away?" His voice was low, a deadly whisper, sending a chill down your spine. "That you could leave me and run straight to the team? Tell them about what I've been doing?"

You blinked, fear coursing through you as you tried to speak. "No, Aaron, I—"

"Don’t lie to me!" he snarled, his face inches from yours. "I see it in your eyes. You were going to tell them. Weren’t you?"

Terror constricted your throat. You wanted to scream, to plead with him, but the words wouldn’t come. His anger was suffocating, his eyes filled with a malice you’d never seen before.

"I can’t let you do that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, the storm of his fury momentarily quieted by cold calculation. "You’ll ruin everything. This—" He gestured to the leftover blood still staining his hands. "This is who I am now. And you’re not going to stop me."

Without warning, he yanked you roughly into the storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed you both whole. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance, but Hotch was determined. His large frame loomed over you, his hand still gripping your wrist with bruising force.

"Please, Aaron, you don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to reason with him. Tried to pull yourself out of his grip.

But his expression was unreadable now, lost in the darkness. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced in pain. A high-pitched whimper left your throat as the pain coursed through every single nerve in your body.

"I do." His voice was cold, devoid of the empathy and warmth you once knew in him. "You’re the only one who knows as far as I can tell. And if I let you walk out of here, it’s over for me."

Your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest. "Aaron, I won’t tell anyone," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your voice. "I swear, I—"

"I told you don’t lie to me," he hissed, cutting you off with a deadly glare. "I can’t trust you. Not anymore."

The air was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze suffocating. You could barely make out the features of his face as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but you could feel the cold determination, it was unmistakable. He had made up his mind. There was no reasoning with him, no turning back.

Hotch fumbled with something on the wall and soon enough the overhead light bulb flickered on, the dim light barely bright enough to light up his features. Before you could react, Hotch pulled a length of duct tape from a nearby shelf, yanking it free with a sharp sound. Your heart raced, and you instinctively tried to back away, but he was faster. With a cruel efficiency, he shoved you up against the wall, pressing his body against yours to keep you in place.

“Stop fighting me,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck.

You struggled, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was stronger, and his anger gave him a terrifying, unnatural strength. The tape wound around your wrists, biting into your skin as he bound you tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized there was no escape.

When he was finished, he stepped back, watching you with an unnerving calm. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic threatening to overtake you.

"What are you going to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Hotch tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered you. “I’m going to make sure you can’t destroy everything.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose control again.”

Without warning, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder with brutal force. You screamed, but the sound was muffled by the closet walls. His grip on you was like iron as he carried you out of the building, and into the garage where his car waited patiently.

You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat. But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up, and his body moved with the cold precision of a man who had crossed the line of no return, a man who wasn’t coming back.

He tossed you into the trunk of his SUV, the metal cold against your back as he slammed the hatch shut, trapping you inside. The darkness closed in around you, and all you could hear was the sound of your own panicked breathing and the engine roaring as Hotch turned the car on.

You were trapped.

The engine screeched as Hotch drove with grim determination, the rain streaking the windshield of his SUV. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force of his grip. You still lay in the cramped trunk, the tape burning the skin on your wrists as you struggled to free yourself. Hotch had made a stop after about an hour on the road on the road to gag your screams, he was tired of hearing your begs and pleas for mercy. You lay helpless as the vehicle bumped along the dark, slick road. Every movement jostled your body, sending sharp pains through your limbs, but the terror coursing through you dulled the physical discomfort.

The man behind the wheel was someone you thought you knew. But this version of Hotch was a stranger.

His phone buzzed on the dashboard, but he ignored it. You could barely make out the faint sounds through the barrier between you, but you knew it had to be the team. They had to realize by now. But the phone in your pocket still clutched tightly against your side despite the restraints, was your only lifeline. Garcia could trace it if you managed to answer it the next time they tried your number. The team would find you, you were sure of it.

But Hotch already knew that. And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

Your heart raced as the SUV took a sharp turn, causing your body to slide slightly across the floor of the trunk. The storm outside was intensifying, and you could feel your anxiety building in the way he drove — focused and determined. He had a plan.

The car slowed, the rhythmic thud of the rain against the roof of the trunk filling the silence. He pulled off the main road, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Your pulse quickened as the vehicle came to a stop.

A car door slammed shut, and you heard his heavy footsteps approaching. The trunk popped open, letting in the cool, rain-soaked air. Hotch loomed over you, his face set in a harsh, emotionless mask. Without a word, he reached down, his grip bruising as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the trunk. You stumbled onto the muddy ground, barely able to keep your balance.

His fingers moved deftly, reaching into your pocket and yanking out your phone. His lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes flashing with twisted amusement.

“You thought the team would save you,” he grinned in a low almost scary voice. “You thought Garcia would trace this… pathetic.” He held up your phone. A flash of lightning struck down in the distance behind him.

Before you could react, he dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it under his heel before throwing it into the lake you had stopped near. You barely heard it splash into water over the sound of the pounding rain. Hotch calmly walked over to a large rock, grabbing it with both hands. You watched in horror as he smashed his own phone repeatedly, reducing it to a mess of shattered glass and plastic.

Your only connection to the outside world was now gone.

Hotch turned back to you, his face illuminated by the brief flashes of lightning. His expression was as cold and unfeeling as the storm around you, but there was something darker in his eyes — a satisfaction in watching your hope slip away.

“You always were smart,” he murmured, stepping closer, towering over you. “Too smart for your own good.”

Without another word, he shoved you back into the trunk, his strength leaving no room for resistance. You were thrown back into the small, confined space. The rain and the outside world disappeared, leaving you in pitch-black darkness once again.

The car started again, the engine rumbling as Hotch continued driving. You were no longer sure where you were, feeling like he potentially had driven you in circles to throw you off track, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. There was no doubt in your mind that Hotch had planned this meticulously. He had been covering his tracks, eliminating threats, and now he was eliminating your ability to interfere.

The drive felt endless, the sound of rain against the roof your only marker of time passing. You tried to shift, to loosen the restraints on your wrists, but every movement sent sharp pain through your limbs. The car’s motion made you nauseous, the fear and discomfort blending into a haze.

Eventually, the car slowed again. You felt the shift in the vehicle as it came to a stop. The air was suffocating, your breath quickening in panic as you heard the sound of the driver’s door opening for the third time and then the distant crunch of dried leaves under Hotch’s footsteps. Where had he taken you?

The trunk opened again, and Hotch’s silhouette was backlit by the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the storm clouds looming above. His face was unreadable, but there was no regret, no hesitation in his actions. He reached in and grabbed you roughly by the arm as he pulled you from the trunk once more.

You were in the middle of nowhere - an abandoned building ahead, its windows dark and some of them were even shattered.

The perfect place for someone to disappear.

“We’re going inside,” Hotch growled, his voice harsh and barren of the warmth it once held.

Your legs buckled beneath you, no strength left to carry your body, but Hotch didn’t care. He hauled you toward the entrance of the building with ease, his grip bruising on your bicep as he pulled you through the door. The interior was pitch black, the only sound was your rapid, panicked breaths and the distant rumble of thunder as the last of the storm was passing you.

He led you through the building, the air biting at your skin. You could feel the hatred radiating from him - the complete absence of the man you once knew. He stopped in the center of a large, empty room, turning to face you with a dark, predatory gaze.

“You should’ve stayed out of it,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with venom. “But you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to know.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, cold and merciless.

“You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

The BAU team gathered in their conference room, the air filled with a heavy silence. The flickering lights of the monitors and the scattered case files did little to lighten the grim atmosphere. The latest string of killings had left them all feeling drained and frustrated. They knew the pattern - the targeted families of three - but the connection was proving elusive.

Reid, hunched over his paper files, spoke up. “The pattern is consistent. Every victim family has been targeted in a specific order: the father is always the first to go, followed by the mother, and then the child. We’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why does the unsub want the sons to watch their parents get murdered?”

Morgan, pacing back and forth, nodded grimly. “We’ve checked financial records, phone records, and even personal connections, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the unsub is just a ghost.” He listed, counting with his fingers as he mentioned each thing.

Rossi, reviewing photos from the crime scenes, frowned in concentration. “There’s something we’re not seeing. Maybe we need to look at the details of each scene once again, this time more closely. There’s got to be a common thread.”

Garcia was furiously typing away, her eyes darting between various screens. She was usually the one bringing good news or revelations, but this time her face was a mask of worry. “I’ve cross-referenced all known data, and I’m still coming up empty. It’s like the unsub is erasing every trace of himself.”

Penelope’s words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a new piece of evidence popping up on her screen. The team watched in quiet concern as she displayed a series of images on the large television screen behind them. The new evidence came from a tech at the latest crime scene.

“Look at this,” Garcia said, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed to a photo of a golden wedding ring lying on a dresser. “I’ve run the image through our database. It’s not just any ring. It’s a unique design only a handful made in total, and I found a match.”

The room fell silent as the team examined the image. Reid’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance too. “That ring… it’s a distinct piece. I’ve seen it before.”

Rossi’s gaze shifted from the photo to Garcia. “You’re saying this ring could be linked to someone we know?”

Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I cross-referenced it with our records, and it matches the description of a ring worn by someone in our team.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the name displayed on her laptop.

The realization hit like a thunderclap. The team exchanged worried glances, their earlier frustration giving way to a new kind of dread. Rossi’s face darkened as he leaned in closer.

Garcia nodded again, her expression serious as she confirmed the words Rossi had been about to ask. “The ring belongs to Hotch.”

The room erupted into chaos. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, and Reid’s expression was one of horror. “No way,” Morgan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hotch? He’s one of the most dedicated agents we’ve ever worked with.”

“Is there any chance it could be a coincidence?” Rossi asked, his voice tight with concern. "That it's one of the other owners of similar rings?"

Garcia shook her head, her face pale. “I don’t think so, they've all been spotted across the country and have rock-solid alibis. The design is too specific. And if Hotch is involved, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

Reid began to piece together the information, his mind racing. “If Hotch is connected to the unsub, then it’s possible that he’s been orchestrating these murders from within. We need to act fast.”

The team sprang into action, their earlier determination now transformed into urgency. Rossi and Morgan began to gather additional evidence and check Hotch’s recent whereabouts. Reid and Garcia worked on tracking Hotch’s phone, hoping to pinpoint his location.

As the team raced against time, their focus sharpened on finding Hotch and uncovering the truth behind his involvement in the killings. Each agent’s heart pounded with the realization that someone they trusted might be the very monster they were hunting. But they were not ready to admit it just yet.

Meanwhile, the darkness within Hotch continued to grow, his plans advancing while the team desperately tried to uncover the truth.

The next move was crucial - finding Hotch could be the piece they were missing.

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