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haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 2 of 3

wc: 18k (yay!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), a bit of fluff warnings: wet dreams, jerking off, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, making out, praise kink, strength kink (? he's strong...) crying during sex, dirty talk, aftercare...? petnames (baby, princess), and ... names needs to be read after part 1 i think! a/n: shorter warnings list lmfao anyway.... i....this took me awhile but i really hope u enjoy this and the way it reads. let me know what you think and please be kind :) thank you thank you THANK YOU to every single one of you on my taglist and if you've sent me an ask, reblogged, or left a comment. i could not have finished this without u

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — especially to you.

he knew what he was doing each time he showed up around you at a party, love bites staining his skin and hair messy and wild. he noticed the way you recognised the perfume on him with a crinkle of your nose, or the slight flicker of sadness in your eyes when his phone would vibrate against the bedside table, wandering to the names on his phone. he could feel the way your shoulders tensed when he smiled blankly at you, track your movements as you looked away when he was cozying up with someone else.

and most of all – he knew that beyond that, you couldn't go to him for all your hurt. and that was what would be most painful, the knowledge that everything you had to suffer was unjustified, feelings not tied to reason, because he never made you any promises.

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — and he always hoped that his touch could be a good enough apology.

all throughout rehearsals, when they took the trip to the venue, back to when he had woken up that morning, something had stirred in his chest. he was never nervous before shows, but this time he fiddled with his guitar mindlessly, wandering over to the bar and ordering just a few drinks to hopefully dull the way his heart was racing in his chest, alcohol burning a path down his throat. he picked at the way his hair fell over his eyes, re-doing his makeup before the show with the black eyeliner that he couldn't hold without thinking of you. his bandmates watching him carefully, not knowing what had changed. he wouldn't be able to tell them if they'd asked.

it was only when the girl in the bathroom had stumbled away on shaky feet, leaving one last slick touch on his arm as a goodbye, when all his feelings that had ached in him that day came crashing down in his chest, that crushing weight he couldn't ignore each time he tried to breathe.

you had kissed him — and it felt like a promise.

it was this thought that now stung at him, as he watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator flick higher and higher. he had made his way to your apartment as if on autopilot, driving down streets now too familiar. he always knows the hurt he causes you — and he feels it now, like retribution, because even now he has no right to be angry at you. no right to blame you for his hurt, because while he had never made you promises, in reality you hadn't either.

but the reality was he was here now, knocking on your apartment door.

"y/n?"

there's warm light seeping out under your apartment door, he can see all your shoes on the rack outside. jaemin's not home, but you definitely are.

he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth.

"y/n, i know you're home."

his hand curls into a fist, and he hits it against the door, twice. he thinks he can hear something beyond the door, a clink of something like keys, so he raises his voice, the tone of it rough.

"are you happy now?"

mark has told him he gets vindictive when he's hurt or scared, has urged him to think before he speaks.

"does it make you feel like you have the upper hand? standing me up?"

but haechan can't distinguish what he's feeling right now.

"because i don't care at all," he spits, lies he'd never rehearsed, the alcohol mixing with thoughts he didn't even know he had, to inflict the cruelest hurt. "at least i know the girl i fucked didn't feel any different." his voice dips low, cold freezing over each syllable. "i hope you know even if you went, i still would've picked her. it didn't make any difference."

the night is still, and quiet. his words seem to swell in the air, ringing around in his head. he stands in front of the door, head lowered, hand still lingering on cool surface, breaths dragged out of his lungs painfully. he waits for so long, that he wonders if he was speaking to no one at all — if you'd been asleep, if he imagined the sounds beyond the door.

but then there's a soft click, and the door drifts open.

the moment haechan sees you, he feels it like a shot to his chest, because something was terribly wrong.

it's not just the tears running down your cheeks.

your face is blotchy and red, dark circles under your teary eyes, your hair mussed up and tangled. you're wrapped in layers of clothing despite the cool summer night, your body still trembling with cold, and when you speak, your voice is so hoarse and broken that it makes goosebumps break out over his skin — and an achy tone he never wanted to hear from you ever again.

"it didn't make a difference?"

his lips part. he tugs on his jacket, trying to to close it, to pull up his collar a little higher, but it's too late — your eyes are already reading the marks on his skin, drinking in every last detail of him. 5 minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than for you to open the door and see him exactly like this — lipstick smudged lips and fucked out eyes, the smell of fake roses clinging to each fibre of his clothing, the rips in his jeans tugged this way and that.

and all at once he knew — you had wanted to go, and he just accused you of the worst thing. you were going to go, and now he was forcing you to look at him like this. if the trip here made him feel vulnerable and bruised, he knew it must have felt like this for you too on the nights he didn't ask for you — the two of you sharing feelings that you weren't supposed to have, that you couldn't justify.

now haechan sees the way your face crumples, tears gathering on your waterline. you lift your hands to wipe them away, and it's like he can feel the way your chest shakes with wounded sounds and choked sobs, your fingers clenching into fists as you bite your lip to keep from bursting into tears.

"y/n-" he breathes. "are you…is everything —"

"s-so you didn't mean it? when you invited me?" you're trying to steady your breathing. every second that passes where he's watching you fall to pieces in the doorway feels like it's searing into haechan's skin, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing tenfold with guilt. he swallows, as he watches you take a few deep breaths. "i thought… i thought it meant…when you invited m-me you said you weren't making empty promises —"

"i wasn't." he bites his lip, taking a step towards you. "y/n —"

but you back away. "i was going to go, haechan. i was really going to go –"

"i know." he knew now.

" — but i've been sick since yesterday, and it wasn't getting any better, i couldn't leave the house –"

"why didn't you tell me?" he desperately wants to run away, but he knows it's worse for you.

your voice is small. "i don't have your number."

it had slipped his mind. it was something so stupid, something so small – how he never wanted to give you a way to talk to him, or give himself an easy way to access you, didn't want things to be too easy. all of it had slowly built up to that feeling each time he glanced at his phone that night, clutching the lifeless device in his hands.

the last thing he should do, if he ever wanted to see you again, is blame you. he bites back his question of why you didn't ask jaemin for help, wrapping his jacket around his body self-consciously, running a hand through his hair. "i forgot," he whispers. hurt flickers across your face again.

"i d-don't know why i thought this would be different." you wipe at your face, biting your lip again to keep from trembling. "i hoped that maybe, even if i couldn't show up, you'd come here and take care of me. when i heard you outside the door…"

the words have a bitter bite to them, and you spit them out like you hate the taste in your mouth, hate every memory associated with his care.

"i'll take care of you," he pleads, quickly, stepping towards you.

he doesn't know what he expected, if you'd showed up. maybe he'd play for you, and leave with your hand in his. maybe he could have taken you in his car, or in his soft sheets at home. brought you out for a late dinner, sit with you and let you pry him open as you always did. or maybe he'd say nothing at all, and nothing would have changed – he didn't know.

his touch has always been his apology, always his way of reaching you through the only sure thing the both of you wanted from each other. but the look on your face tells him that the brush of his fingertips against your skin is only cruelty.

"you're fucked up if you think i'm letting you take care of me now," your voice is grating, rough on his skin.

"but i-"

"you'll hold me like this? force me to stare at the marks on your chest? breathe the perfume that isn't yours?" your tone is harsh and accusatory. he takes it all. "what were you going to do, if i showed?"

and for once, haechan can't help but be honest. "i don't know," he mumbles, and he sees the words hit you like a strike to your face.

"you knew i wanted more," you whisper. "you knew i wanted to be close to you, but you always…you always –"

"wanted?" he asks, quietly.

"you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. whatever person lies behind all that…" your tears have stopped, your voice unfeeling. the numbness in you mirrors his own. "i want nothing to do with him."

he can't think of anything to say. he reaches out a hand, and for a moment you let his fingers graze your arm, fear and hurt in the way they curl around your wrist, begging you to hold on to him too. you're scaring him, and he doesn't know how to go back, but he knows he deserves everything you're saying to him. deserves the way you shake free of his hold and close the door, his feet stumbling over themselves as he backs away.

you said you didn't want to know him, that you didn't know him at all. but he can't help thinking that's not true, because you knew him enough to know exactly how to hurt him through the walls, through the boy he pretended to be, right through his chest and past his ribcage, right into his aching heart.

—

ever since your fever broke, your life had been quiet.

you go to all your classes. you cut down on coffee by getting sleep at night. you take walks with jaemin around the neighborhood, falling back into old routines. movie nights, and grocery trips. he was coddling you, and you felt it every day — coming home to warm meals, the way he was more forgiving over little disputes. you didn't deserve it, watching him slip out of the front door quietly, camera bag slung over his shoulder.

you didn't deserve it, because you ached to follow.

some part of you was still trapped inside your room, heady and aching, desperately trying to reach him. needing his apology, needing him to recognise the way he hurt you. you couldn't look for answers in your memories, but you played each scene back in your mind like a looping film reel, letting images suffocate you — his jacket falling open, love bites marking his skin, all the times he's slipped from your grasp. and yet, other fragments come back too — the warmth of his hand on yours in the car, the slight tilt of his head as he brought his gaze level with yours, seeking you out when things got too much. his quiet answers in the dark, the slow smile that spread across his face that made you glow, knowing you'd made him happy.

"he got off lightly," you tell jaemin one night, the both of you on the floor by the couch. ice cream and wine drip condensation on the table-top, and the both of you are too heavy with the rush of sugar and alcohol, the clock ticking in the silence of the room as you sit.

"you just want to see him again," he'd replied, quietly. "don't you?"

"i just wish we could have talked." your voice is small. you and haechan never truly talked, except for some nights in the dark, lying in his arms afraid to breathe, afraid of breaking the tenderness that swelled in the room, afraid of turning on the lights to see who you were holding in the shadows.

"and then what? you'd be together?" jaemin glances over at you, and the concern in his eyes makes you shrink back even more. you were supposed to be doing better. everything in your life was right, it was exactly the way it should be — but why did you feel empty?

"then i'd at least have closure," you mumble. "i'm never going to get any answers unless i talk to him."

a brief expression of discomfort crosses jaemin's face, but it's gone when you blink.

"i just don't want you to see him again, and forget all the ways he hurt you."

you don't say a word. both of you knew that it was something too likely to happen.

—

it's dark in haechan's room. the boy liked it shadowy, black-out curtains drawn over the windows, the air cool from air-conditioning, an air humidifier spewing light blue mist in the corner. the boy sitting in bed had his guitar in his lap, picking at the strings quietly, his phone face-up on the bed next to him, recording his ideas. he was swaddled in a large hoodie, swallowing his frame, shorts riding high on his thighs as he curls into himself.

he doesn't look up when mark shuffles in, closing the door behind him quietly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the low light.

"jaemin's outside."

haechan nods. "i heard you." his voice is a soft sound, boyish. mark has heard it enough growing up, that he knows haechan is scared. he knows haechan is waiting for answers, waiting for the verdict.

"he says he'll only continue to work with us if you stop seeing… y/n."

the name trips in his mouth, clumsy. it feels strange to use it, especially around haechan, who knows you more than any of them do, like he's saying something he's not allowed to, a boy using an expletive he doesn't understand. haechan's body tenses when he hears your name in mark's voice, predictable, almost laughable — the slight tightening of his nimble fingers on the neck of the guitar, slip of his fingers on the guitar pick.

"okay." and the boy goes back to playing.

"you'll stop seeing y/n?"

"yeah." mark moves closer to the bed, sees haechan's lower lip caught in his teeth.

"haechan, stop."

the boy shakes his head roughly, plucking at the strings a little harder.

"what happened? what happened between you and y/n?"

"i'll stop seeing her."

"stop acting like i don't know you," mark mumbles, finally sitting down on the bed. haechan stills, as mark pulls the guitar away from him, his hands going limp as he lets mark set it down at the foot of the bed. "i hate it when you do that."

"i'm sorry." a beat, then haechan buries his face in his hands, pulling at his features, before letting his arms drop down to the bed again. "could you…could you at least tell her?"

"tell her what?"

"that jaemin told me to stay away." haechan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, head still lowered. "i…i shouldn't be the one avoiding her. she should be avoiding me."

"is there a difference?"

"yeah." he mumbles his words, plush lips barely forming each syllable. "because i hurt her. i can't hurt her and then ignore her…that's…that's not right."

"so you want to keep seeing her?"

"i just want…" his voice is hollow, and when he looks up at mark — the dim light in the room catching on the features of his face, mark can finally see the way his lips were raw, skin torn and bitten. his eyes, usually sharp and piercing, are puffy and swollen from crying, dazed pupils blinking up at him. "mark, i don't think i've ever hurt someone like this before."

mark wonders what he could have done, but he doesn't ask. "do you want to make it right?"

"i don't know how." he swallows, throat bobbing. "i don't know if i can."

"maybe avoiding her isn't the best thing…" mark starts, putting a hand on haechan's arm, but haechan flinches.

"the band will kill me. jeno will kill me." mark opens his mouth to argue, but already haechan is leaning back against the headboard, head lowered and looking down at his lap. "i'll do it. i won't see her again."

"it'll be fine" mark reassures, softly. "in a few weeks, after a few more people, you'll forget all about her."

neither of them really believed it.

—

as jaemin sits on the couch — jeno sprawled on an armchair with jisung perched on the armrest, mark sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he thinks about how these boys have become his close friends. he fits in with them in a way he never has with his other clients — evenings spent photographing them, understanding them through the lens of his camera. cycling trips with jeno, bringing out mark's competitive streak as they drank in the kitchen, babying jisung and taking care of him when the other bandmates weren't around to do so.

and of course, getting to know haechan — teaching him how to use a camera, chatting with him easily about the city. if jaemin was to be honest, haechan intimidated him a little with how guarded he was, every sentence he spoke to jaemin felt like it'd been turned over a million times in his head, each word careful and poised. he also disappeared for long periods of time, sometimes never there during parties.

now jaemin knew what the time had been spent on. who he'd spent it on.

"we're really sorry." it's mark who speaks up first. jisung nods in agreement, while jeno looks on.

"i don't need you to be sorry," mumbles jaemin. "it's not your fault."

"still…" mark scratches the back of his close-cropped hair tentatively. "he mentioned it."

"what did he say?"

"he didn't tell us everything," jisung says, voice hushed. his hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head in thought. "mostly just told us to stay away."

"did he sound like he wanted them to be exclusive?"

mark and jisung exchange a glance, but it's jeno's voice that answers just as mark's lips part.

"no." when jisung bites his lip, jeno raises his eyebrows, annoyed. "are you kidding? he just said he fucked her more often, and that we should fuck off."

jisung looked wounded. "he didn't say that."

"but that's what he meant."

"mark?"

jaemin calls out to the boy, bringing him out of his thoughts. mark was staring at his own hands, a frown creasing his face.

"haechan agreed," he says, slowly. your name lingers on the tip of his tongue as he says it, like he's tasting the sound, the unfamiliarity of it in his mouth. "i…i think i might know what's going on with haechan, but it's up to him to explain, not me."

"so he won't see her anymore?"

the words come easily to jaemin. he knew it was the deal he was going to make the moment he texted mark to ask if they could talk. he was willing to lose his growing friendship with the rest of the boys if it could give you peace, if all of you could go back to the way things were.

he think back to how he found you — struggling to head out of the door the previous day, barely able to make it to the door, the fever burning up your brain and making your bones ache. he thinks of coming back home to you after he'd went to the pharmacy to get you medicine, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately knowing that something had changed, from the tears streaming down your face.

"how did this happen?"

"he came to see me" you mumble, struggling with the sleeves of the thick sweater you were trying to pull your arms through. the moment you straighten, you wince as a dull pain throbbed through your head, hunching over again as stars blinked in your vision.

"haechan?"

he sets down the bag of medicine on the kitchen counter, picking up the thermometer and pointing it at your forehead. the light on the screen blinks red, and his eyebrows furrow, the displeased expression on his face only growing stronger.

"why did you open the door?" he asks, slowly. "i thought we talked about this."

"i thought…." your voice is scratchy, as pressure seems to rise inside your skull, pain that made your eyes tear up. it's laughable that you thought he would take care of you, and instead he ripped you to pieces. tears well up in your eyes again, and your lips part, only to let out a small sob.

he grips onto your arm, gently but firmly, steering you back towards your room. you don't have any strength to fight back, it felt like the temperature in the room was at freezing point even though jaemin was only wearing a thin shirt and shorts, and the ache in your bones made every movement shoot pain through your nerves. even after lying down on your bed, swaddled in blankets, the dim light slightly easing the pain in your head, you were too weak to lift your head, stretching your fingers out over the blanket and crawling towards where jaemin's hand rested on the sheets.

he held your hand and listened to you talk, knowing you needed to let it all out. he didn't judge, he didn't make faces. just listened with his eyes closed as you told him about meeting haechan, the way he pulled you away from everyone else and how you'd followed. he observed you quietly through his lashes as you sniffled, breaths breaking up your words.

the story got harder to tell when you recounted moments of his tenderness — when he'd call you his, when he took care of you, when he'd promise to be harsh with you but never went through with it, the way his face fell when you cried. you stuttered and hesitated through it all, because you didn't know if any of it was real or just imagined.

jaemin knows he could have hurt you further — broken every last illusion, pierced through the image of haechan you had in your head. but he didn't have the heart to, so this was the best he could do — making sure it stopped.

"it's done," mark nods, but he looks unhappy.

jaemin doesn't feel the weight lift from his chest like he thought it would. he feels jisung move to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder as he observes his face.

"i'm really sorry," he mumbles, lips barely moving.

"it's not your fault," jaemin replies, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

—

haechan is dreaming again.

except it's more memory than dream, the way you're laid up against the pillows, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaves kisses on your inner thighs. it's so vivid, the way you taste, the twitch of your muscles as you tense around him, the small gasp as he pulls away to sit back on his knees.

"please-" you whimper, needy from being teased. scrabbling, you bring your knees to your chest, hands trembling as you hook them on your thighs, tears smearing your cheeks with a dewy glow. you were trying to keep your voice quiet, small sounds barely escaping your lips as you bit down on them, pleading with him through murmurs and barely coherent words. his shirt on your body crinkled everywhere from how he'd been grabbing at it, the long sleeves falling over your palms. it was straight out of a wet dream, which it now was, as you begged him to fuck you, your wet folds slick with spit and arousal as you bared yourself to him, pleading with him to sink into you.

in memory, he croons. he gives you what you asked for — pressing your weight into the mattress as he pushes into you, feel you pulse around him as he goes in hard and deep, feel your body trembling against his.

but in dream, he can be honest enough with himself to admit that it scares him when you cry. that his stomach twists when he hears you beg, like missing a step on a staircase, a second where he's rushing into nothing — not knowing if he'd made you like this, not knowing if he was hurting you. from the girl shaking against him, clumsy hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and you now — hips rocking into nothing, desperate for him.

"i'm here," he whispers, gently taking your hands and slowly lowering your legs down to the bed. he kisses you until your breathing calms and slows, your hands now on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks. he likes how you touch him as if you could ever bruise him, loving brushes of your fingertips, urgency making your fingers curl into his skin, hesitant scratches on his shoulders that your hands skitter away from.

in dream, he pushes into you slowly, watching the way your lips part, breath caught in your chest, eyes fluttering closed as you take him in. wet sounds fill the room as he begins to move his hips, your face shyly tucked into his chest, your ankles sweetly hooked against his lower back as you melt together. the feelings in his chest intensifying the pleasure he feels from you wrapped around him. his eyes meet yours as you blink up at him, and it's so real — the way you glow against the sheets of his bed, eyes all soft and sparkling with tenderness.

but then he wakes in the same bed: the feeling of you under him, the crash of his heartbeat in his chest, all of it hanging in the dark, a lingering tattoo on his body.

—

so it's almost like a dream, when he opens the door to the stranger's bedroom, to see you slumped on the floor.

the din from below echoes through the hall, the sounds of the overwhelming crowd seeping into the room and reminding him of why he was here. he'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone — the constant eyes on him making him feel self-conscious and jumpy.

back at the apartment, jeno had said he wasn't being like himself, that he hadn't been himself in a long time, the memory of his laugh ringing in haechan's ears as he climbed upstairs. when has a crowd ever bothered you? when have you ever hated attention?

he didn't know the answers.

now haechan stands in the doorway, not believing his eyes. there was no way you'd known he would be here, alone. you're curled in on yourself on the floor, leaning against the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, eyes shut. your body is still, and for just a while longer he lets himself watch you for just a moment — drink in every single detail he'd missed even if it felt like teasing open his own wounds with fingers caked in salt. the rise and fall of your chest, your hair mussed up and falling over your face, the slope of your shoulders, your arms.

and suddenly he's back in his bed, your weight the only thing he was sure of against his chest, drunk on the soft sounds you made, lips barely forming his name.

you don't know he's here yet. he could walk away, leave you by yourself. but something in him told him he couldn't leave you like this in the middle of a party, barely conscious in a stranger's bedroom. before he knows what he's doing, before he can fathom the consequences, he's kneeling before you, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your body. you reek of alcohol, stirring when you feel the weight of the leather on your body, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth, eyelashes feeling stuck to your cheeks as you struggle to open your eyes.

"y/n?" haechan whispers, choking on the sound of your name.

"haech-" you trail off, fingers coming up to rub your eyes sleepily, the jacket slipping slightly. "haechan." it's the way you say it, like your tongue is too afraid to form the syllables, like something you can't bear to say.

"i-i'm going to find someone," he mumbles, backing away from you, clumsily trying to get to his feet. "you stay here, i'll –"

"don't go-" the words almost get lost from the way you're slurring, lips barely moving, shaking your head as you reach for him again. your fingers slip on the sleeve of his shirt, before curling and holding on tight. "please don't leave."

"i…" pain flickers over his features. he bites his lower lip, body moving towards yours instinctively, your hand crawling up his sleeve and grasping for his arm, fingers digging to the bone as you tremble. but then he feels your breath on his neck, and he pulls away again.

"what happened, y/n? did someone hurt you?" he feels like a hypocrite.

"no," you say, meekly. "i think i just had too much to drink."

"did you come with jaemin?"

you shake your head, nuzzling into him in a way that makes his heart pulse painfully in his chest. "i don't know anyone here."

he still thinks he should get help from any of the girls downstairs. even as you meld yourself a little closer to him, he's almost certain you wouldn't be acting this way if you were sober.

"y/n, i can't. please just let me call jaemin–"

"want you here." you reach for him again, trying to pull him impossibly closer, fitting his body against yours. "don't want jaemin to see me like this."

it dawns on him that besides jaemin, he was the only one you felt comfortable around like this. it wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of you when you were vulnerable or weak, and his body reacts out of habit — pulling you into his arms, his hands gently patting your back as you blink back tears in the crook of his neck. but it still didn't feel right, knowing he was the one who had caused this, and yet he was here holding you.

"let me talk to someone downstairs – i'll see if they can take you home," he murmurs. you bury your face deeper in his neck, shaking your head. "just 5 minutes, okay? i just need 5 minutes —"

"don't want someone to bring me home," you rasp, and his gut twists painfully when i feels your tears damp on his skin. "i don't want to go back to my place. i want to go with you."

"you're going to regret this," he says, softly. to him it's the truth you're not sober enough to see, even if it hurt to tell you. "you don't really want this, y/n."

"is it because you want to find someone else?" your words are soft-edged, lips forming the words carefully, but it pierces him all the same. "is it- is it because you want to bring someone else home?"

"no," he answers, quiet. "i haven't…not in a while."

"so you just don't want to be around me?"

his mind is racing, desperately trying to think of how he could help you, but his mind was coming up with nothing. that same feeling he always had around you — protectiveness intersecting with the ache in his chest everytime your eyes met his, all of it roaring in his ears, louder than the cacophony from any party. for all the times he's claimed he knew what was good for you, he's begun to realise that he has a terrible grasp on how not to hurt you.

"you don't want to be around me," he corrects, but his fate is sealed when you let out a small sob, muffled against his shirt.

and he takes you home.

—

you watch him through your lashes, as he swipes a cotton pad on your face, cleaning off your makeup.

"close your eyes," he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips from how hard he was concentrating, trying to be gentle with you. his touches are far too light, and you're sure your makeup is still on your face, but you let your lashes flutter shut anyway, feeling a featherlight brush against your eyelid as he holds it against your eye. dropping the used pad into a small bin, he brings a warm, damp towel up to your face, the material of it soft against your skin.

"can you brush your teeth?" he holds a toothbrush up to your face, but he withdraws it once your hands come up to hold it, completely misjudging the distance and landing on his shoulders instead. "open," he coaxes, parting his own lips so you'd mimic him. he smiles fondly as you open your mouth wide, a hand coming up to hold your face in place. "good girl," he mumbles, and you preen at the praise that shines through your drunken haze, following his instructions to rinse out your mouth.

there's a short pause. having brushed out your hair, removed your makeup and brushed your teeth, the only thing to do next was to get you to bed.

your legs squeeze around his hips, your back against the mirror on his bathroom counter. "haechan," you mumble, tipsiness making you swallow your words. "don't…my clothes…"

"i'll leave them on," he promises, ignoring the way your tight dress looks uncomfortable and unclean to sleep in. "don't worry." of course you don't feel comfortable around him, not after everything.

but for some reason, you're shaking your head, two clumsy hands closing in on one of his and guiding them to your back. "take them off. please–" you add, when he hesitates. "please help me."

"of course," he murmurs, familiarity sparking in his fingertips as they grasp for the zipper, a sense of dejavu in how he drags it down your spine slowly, your back arching slightly. you look at him, drink in the proximity like the first taste of rain after a heatwave — the pretty cut of his eyes, the way his pupils float upwards as he focuses on your back through the mirror. the round tip of his nose, and finally the plushness of his heart-shaped lips. it feels like reprieve, the ache in you finally soothed by the way his breath fans over your cheeks, a gentle balm on an open wound. you lean forward slightly into him as if drawn by a magnetic field, one of your hands coming up to trace the arches of his cupid's bow.

"y/n?" you can feel his lips move, soft like rose petals on your fingertips. "what are you doing?"

"you haven't called me baby all night," you blurt out. "or…or princess." your thumb dips to brush against his lower lip, before he's catching hold of your hand and pulling it away from his face gently.

"i shouldn't," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your fingertips before letting go. "i can't."

your dress has gone loose around your body, and you push the sleeves off your shoulders with your hands, letting the fabric drop to your waist. you observe him, watching the way he swallows, throat bobbing when his eyes dart to your chest, lace draped over your curves.

"haechan," you murmur, but then he turns, hands now fumbling with a pile of his clean clothes. he holds out a clean shirt to you, bunching it up at the collar to slip your head through it, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

"i want that one," you say, softly, pointing to a long sleeved shirt you'd remembered wearing before in the room he'd shared with the boys. something flickers in his eyes, his hands curling into fists before he picks it up. he's putting it over your head, the soft cotton hanging off your shoulders, his hands coming close to your body to guide your arms into the sleeves, until you can't take it anymore.

"haechan, don't you want me?"

his lips part, his hands stilling, slowly unfurling his grasp on you and placing his palms on the counter. "y/n…"

"why aren't you-" you look up at him, biting your lip, your tongue too slow to form the thoughts your mind was racing with. "why haven't you touched me yet? do you not want me like this?"

his heart splinters and fractures. you were so used to it — used to all his touches leading to kisses, kisses leading to him all over your body. "you're drunk." it's the only thing he can say.

"i know what i'm doing," you fire back, but your words lilt and smear together. "ask me anything and i can answer you right now."

but all he does is resume putting your arms through the sleeves, your limbs pliant against him as always, and soon you're completely covered up, and he can breathe a little easier. his strong arms grip your waist, and you're like a ragdoll in his grip as he guides you to stand, the dress at your hips falling, the shirt brushing the top of your thighs.

it gets worse when he sets you down in his bed. in another universe, this might be a moment of bliss for him, something romantic and sweet in the way your body curves against his pillows, sinking down into them and blinking up at him hazily. but guilt still thunders in his chest, his vision split by lightning bolts of fear. you would wake up hating him. he would never stop hurting you. you would never want to see him again.

your arms slide up his, grasping for him. "please," you plead, your voice small. "what did i do wrong? why don't you want to touch me?"

"you didn't do any wrong," he murmurs, as he lets his weight sink into bed next to you, feel you curl up against him. just for a minute he tells himself — just until you fall asleep. your weight on his chest feeling like someone had doused his body with warmth, a comfort that made his eyes prickle with tears. "y/n, you're perfect," he whispers, the words melting into the dark.

"don't say that." he feels tears wet against the soft fabric of his shirt over his chest. "stop saying my name."

"baby," he amends. "sweetheart, go to sleep."

you hum. "haechan."

"don't," he echoes.

"what's wrong?" you mumble, your question heavy with sleep.

he grips onto you tighter, holding you fiercely as tears cloud his vision.

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "i'm so so so sorry." when you don't respond, he nuzzles into your hair, freckling wet kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry," he repeats, long after you've fallen asleep.

—

you wake up to the sound of laughter ringing out against the walls.

the room is as dim as it was last night — dark curtains drawn and the lights turned off. time seemed to have come to a standstill, you couldn't tell if it had been days or weeks or even months since you'd fallen asleep. your body ached, still heavy with sleep while your mind cleared — it had been a while since you've slept this well.

blinking your eyes open, you slowly sit up, feeling sheets warm and soft against your skin. you sit there, dazed, getting your bearings as you survey the unfamiliar room again. your clothes, folded on a small couch next to the window. your jewelry on the bedside table, your phone plugged in to the charger.

the only thing you recognised was the long sleeved shirt unmistakeable on your body, the familiar smell of perfume and body lotion in every fiber of the sheets.

stumbling over to the bathroom, the warm light brings back every memory — the party, the drinks, stumbling upstairs into a room as your consciousness slipped away, and then haechan, haechan, haechan. haechan leading you out of the party, taking you home in his car, taking care of you. your fingers ghost over your forehead, where you swear he kissed you just before you woke up.

you turn off the tap. in the silence, there's another round of giggles, bright like a child's, and then —

"baby, don't move!"

haechan's voice rings lighter than you've ever heard it, and the smile in it is evident. this is a voice without shadows, fondness in every lilt and inflection. with something like urgency, you dry your hands on your shirt, padding out of his room, hesitantly blinking into the sunlit living room.

you almost don't believe your eyes.

haechan is sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pink lips stuck out in a pout. sitting on the floor, cross-legged between his knees, was a little girl — her hands busy with a doll, while her own hair was being meticulously braided and arranged by the boy…whose head snaps up the moment he hears the creak of the door.

"you're awake," he blurts out, and the girl looks up.

"hi!" she waves shyly, leaning forward towards you, but whining as the motion tugs on her hair instead. "hyuck! it hurts…"

his eyes finally dart away from yours. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, lightly massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers.

"you're making it messy —"

"right, sorry." he grabs a sparkly pink hairbrush and combs through her hair gently, beginning to rebraid. the girl goes back to her doll, settling back down and quickly losing interest in you.

his eyes flick up to yours again, the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks. "did you sleep well?"

you nod, feeling like you'd walked in on something you weren't supposed to.

haechan studies your face, a strand of hair falling from his grasp before he tucks it in diligently. "are you hungover? there were painkillers on the bedside table, i don't know if you saw…"

"i'm fine," you croak out.

"and there's breakfast on the table," he murmurs, ducking his head back down to focus on the impressive french braid he was attempting. he looks back up when he feels you staring, as if fixed to the ground beneath your feet.

"is she…?"

"this is my baby sister," he answers, smiling softly. "sorry, i didn't know she was coming over today. her kindergarten is near here so sometimes i walk her to school." and then, with a nod towards the table, "please eat — i made too many sandwiches."

the girl smiles, mumbling softly to herself. "hyuckie makes the best sandwiches."

you can see 'hyuckie' blush at that, his lips pressed together tightly to keep in his smile as he pokes the little girl's cheek softly, going back to the braid. you cross over to the dining table, feet shuffling slowly, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the two siblings, watching the fondness in haechan's eyes. quietly pulling out a chair, you sit down and pick up a sandwich, holding it gingerly between your fingers.

a hushed voice breaks the silence, and you turn to see his sister, cupping her lips against haechan's ear whispering so loud that her words fill the room. "is she your friend?" the girl asks, pointing her pinky finger at you, head tilted with curiosity. haechan's head tilts too, but his eyes wander over to yours as he hesitates.

"yes, she's my friend," he says, slowly. "we're…good friends." sliding the hair ties from his wrist, he finally finishes tying off the braid, before giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "you can play for 5 more minutes okay? hyuckie needs to talk to his friend."

her round eyes blink at you as she slowly gets to her feet, before tottering over to the window, where another pile of dolls lay. haechan clears his throat, before shuffling over to you and sitting down in a chair next to yours.

although he adjusts himself to face you, he keeps his distance – legs drawn in under the chair, hands placed carefully on his knees in a way you'd never seen him do before. it feels like the space between the both of you spans for entire oceans and continents, an invisible force field that holds weight against your limbs, keeping you from leaning in, incapable of even moving your fingertips.

"are you sure you're okay?"

he looks at you — his expression soft like wax melting around a candle wick.

"do you…do you remember how you got here?"

you nod, taking a deep breath. "the party?"

"i'm sorry that you're here like this," he says, quietly. "i didn't know you were going to be there, i wasn't trying to corner you, i swear."

you nod, dazed.

"are you upset with me? for bringing you here?" at the conflict in your expression, he adds on, hurriedly, "i-i know it wasn't the best thing to do. i could've called jaemin, or mark, or anyone downstairs…it's just that i didn't know…i didn't know if it would be okay–"

" — i'm not upset," you cut him off, the pressure easing as you raise a hand jerkily to place it over his. "i believe you. thank you for taking care of me last night."

he exhales slowly, and when he speaks he sounds even more troubled than before. "you…you shouldn't thank me. you shouldn't thank me for anything."

his eyes dart over to his little sister, checking in on her, and the sense that you're intruding on something creeps up on you again.

haechan had been right — there was so much of him you didn't know. you hardly recognised the boy sitting beside you, despite a vague sense of comfort and familiarity in the slightest traces of his expression, the look in his eyes, his thumb absentmindedly stroking yours. it scared you.

you withdraw your hand, pushing your chair a little further from his, the scrape of it dissonant in your ears. "so, uh, i'll just wait downstairs for the taxi if you don't feel comfortable —"

"taxi?" he looks at you, confused.

"i…i should go now, right?"

"i wasn't going to ask you to go," he says, his voice small. "i was…i was hoping we could talk."

"talk?" you echo. after weeks of nothing? "now?"

"i mean, not right now-" he glances over at the clock, wincing. "but can you stay today?"

there's a pause. you don't think you've ever been able to read him — you've spent days second-guessing every emotion you thought he had, the meaning behind each expression, whether he ever told the truth. but something about him like this makes you hesitate, made your breath catch in your throat. all the ways you've tried to learn how to be immune to his words and his touch slowly melting away, because that was your defense against the version of haechan you thought you knew before.

"i'll understand if you say no," he says, quietly. "but i have things i need to say to you. please."

you don't know what to do.

"hyuckie?"

you both turn. haechan's baby sister is waddling over, her fist clenched around her hair ties as the last remnants of the french braid unravel from her head. she sniffles. "it fell."

haechan's eyes dart back to you quickly, before refocusing his attention away. "it's okay-" he soothes, taking the hair ties from her as he swipes the pad of his thumb on her cheek, brushing off the teardrops that have begun to spill from her lashes. his lips jut out into a pout, his head tilting to meet her gaze. "let's just tie it up and go to school, hm?"

"but i want it in a braid…"

"i can't finish it in time," he says, gently, touching the strands of her hair. "i'm sorry. i promise, we'll do it next time, okay?"

her lip wobbles. "but…"

"let me help," you say, suddenly.

he turns, round eyes wide. "what?"

"i'll do her hair. you still need to get her things right?"

he nods, a little dazed. "really?"

"i'll stay," you murmur, and you slip the hair ties from his loose fingers and sling them around your wrist. "i need to talk to you too."

you can feel his eyes on you as he coaxes his sister towards you, the girl shyly hiding her face in your hands as you swiftly braid two pigtails down her back. he still watches you out of the corner of his eye as he packs her bag, noting the way you listen to her babble on about her days at the school, the way you help adjust the straps of her backpack onto her tiny frame.

he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you think you know the feeling.

—

the bed dips under his weight as he sits down.

"hey," you hear him murmur, and you stir. his hair falls over his face, and he's changed out of his clothes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perches on his dainty nose. it's foreign, and new…until he pushes back his hair boyishly with an open palm, flicking his head like a puppy after a swim, and the skip in your heartbeat feels all too familiar in your ribcage.

"did you get her to school?"

he nods. "i got us lunch too. and stopped to get groceries." studying your face, he leans in. "i didn't want to wake you up so soon. do you feel better?"

you hum. the morning now seemed like just a dream — haechan and his sister, the breakfast sandwiches. he'd left to walk her to school, telling you to rest in his bed until he got home. now, late afternoon light seeps into the room through the open door, until haechan gets up to close it, once again sealing the room in cozy darkness.

"may i…?" he lifts up the corner of the covers, and you nod, easing yourself to the side as he gets into bed, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes trained on his lap. you lay on your side, that same feeling — as if you couldn't reach out and touch him, as if he existed in a world of his own without you, slowly settling in your body like a familiar ache.

but then there's a shift — and you can feel his gaze warm on your skin. you blink up at him, his pupils focused on yours, pools of the darkest molten brown sucking you into his world. he wets his lips with his tongue nervously, taking a shuddering breath.

"y/n, i'm really sorry."

your heart squeezes a little in your chest. "for?"

"for what i said that night…when i thought…when you didn't show up." he takes another breath. "and for not trusting you, for going to your place after i...." his fists clench the fabrics of the sheets, twisting it in his hands.

you bite your lip. "haechan —"

" — i'm not done." he swallows, voice dipping low. "you were right. i knew you wanted more, i always knew exactly when i hurt you. but i never tried…i never tried to change anything. i'm sorry." his hands reach towards yours for a second, but he hesitates, dropping them back on his lap.

"what would you have changed?" you ask, softly.

"i could have stopped seeing you," he murmurs.

you smile, sadly. "i'm not convinced that would have hurt any less." that was something you knew for sure.

"and i don't think i could have stopped myself," he admits.

"haechan," his eyes move to yours. "why did you invite me?" his breathing picks up, and you want desperately to comfort him, to curl up on his lap and soothe him, but you knew the both of you were afraid of what would happen if you touched. knew the possibility that you'd try to find answers in skin-on-skin, lips-on-lips, and the possibility that it would all be lost in translation again.

"i'm sorry, –" he looks at you sadly. "i think i was just trying to get you to stay. i…" he chews on his lip, glasses sliding a little lower on his slender nose bridge as his head dips. "i regret what i said, but some of it was true. i don't know what i would have done, and i don't think i was ready for…for what you thought it was."

you nod, cheek rubbing against soft sheets, thinking about what he said. "haechan, i don't regret not going. i only wished i'd done it intentionally."

"yeah?" he whispers. the sound sticks in his throat.

"if you hadn't found me yesterday…would you still have looked for me? talked to me? i'm not hurt that you didn't find me sooner-" you cut in, when you see the guilt on his features, the parting of his lips in apology. "time apart….time apart was good. i needed it to clear my head. i….i couldn't stop myself around you."

he doesn't say anything, for a while. "jaemin came over," he says, slowly. "and he said i couldn't talk to you or he would stop working with the band and it was decided for me."

"he what?"

haechan shakes his head. "i don't blame him. i'm not going to pretend that i couldn't have still talked to you if i really wanted to. i'm selfish enough to do that, i'll admit. i didn't reach out because i didn't know what to say, and i didn't know what i wanted."

"and now?"

he closes his eyes. "time apart was good," he murmurs, echoing your words. "it gave me a chance to go back to a time before."

your breath catches.

" — but i couldn't. i don't think i can take it any longer. i missed you, y/n. i miss you now, even as you're here."

"you miss me?"

something bothered you about it, hearing him say those words. when he'd pulled you away repeatedly in the weeks you've known each other, when he came for you time and time again, was that missing you too? were things different now?

"i miss spending time with you," he says, almost timidly. "not just…not just sex. everything. i know it's selfish…" his eyes blink open, and he pushed his glasses up, avoiding your gaze. "i didn't mean to pressure you to come back. you can forget i said that."

he shakes his head, trying to clear it.

"i just wanted to tell you i'm sorry for hurting you."

you'd never dared hope for a real apology from him. some part of you expected, or even secretly wished, he would find you again after that night, lie through his teeth to win you back. and in the weeks that followed, you took his silence to mean he didn't even care enough to do that.

and now here you were, sitting with him. after days and nights, he's had time to really mean his words — he wasn't himself, which is maybe why you believed he was telling the truth.

you think you know now, why he refused to let you in. why he hadn't wanted to take your first time, something so intimate and romantic that it would have pierced right through the layers he'd built up around himself. why he drew away so many nights when your touch lingered on each others' skin, when you wanted him to stay.

"haechan," you say, quietly. "i need you to understand that i…that i've learned how to be hurt by you. i don't want to go back to how we were before."

he nods, quickly. "of course."

"and…you say you knew i wanted more. so you know that i wanted to be with you…romantically, right?"

"i know." the words are so quiet, you barely catch them.

"if…if i come back, i don't think i want that anymore." you say, gentle, but firm. jaemin was right — you couldn't let yourself forget all the ways he hurt you. "i associate us with too much hurt. i can't trust you with my heart, can you understand that?"

there's silence. he's nodding, but when his lips part, he's wordless.

"haechan?"

"i understand," he murmurs. "i'm…i didn't…" he breaks off, fiddling with the covers, lip caught in his teeth. "whatever happens next will only happen on your terms," he says, softly. "i only want to do what you want to do, okay?"

your brow furrows. "but haechan, if you don't feel comfortable with something –"

"i'm fine as long as you still want to see me," he whispers.

"if you don't want to let me in, i won't push anymore." you realize you truly mean it when you make the offer out loud. even if it hurt to know that you may never see him like this again, you press on, jaemin's advice resurfacing in your mind again. "you don't owe me any more of yourself. if you want it to just be sex, we can do that – but you have to commit to it too. so no more getting jealous, or —"

" – that's not possible."

"you're not making any sense." you should've been hurt, but sitting here now — looking at him, the way he melts into his room, fuzzy at the edges, soft curves of his face, you can't feel any of it. finally, you're beginning to see that he's just as lost as you are. his head is still bowed low, taking in every word you say like a weight he carries upon him.

"it's not possible because you already know me. you know enough of me that i couldn't perform with you in the crowd, can't be myself around you at a party. i can't stand there onstage, do things like eyefuck girls and play the guitar and pretend to be someone else, while feeling your eyes on me. you'd see right through me."

he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, his voice achy and raw. and as you look up at him, tears are smudging on his waterline, his cheeks glistening as he sniffles.

"i said i'd be fine with anything," he breathes shakily, as he starts to cry, sharp inhales punctuating his words. "and i am, i really am. i-i'm not in the position to set terms. it's fine if you don't want to know me, but i can't pretend we're just strangers anymore. i won't be able to."

words you'd said to him — you can't think i still want to know you, after everything.

for a moment, you entertain the idea that you've hurt him too.

"i don't think i can pretend either," you murmur. "i hated it when you pretended like you didn't know me. like you'd never seen me before."

i'm s-sorry, he chokes, but the syllables scattered across his sobs. he claps a hand to his mouth as his breathing speeds up even more, tears wetting his shirt, achy sounds muffled against his palm. and finally you sit up, limbs still clumsy and heavy from sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, and arm slung over his chest, another around his waist, just like you wanted to all this time.

his breath shudders against your palms, warm body against your skin. you bury your face in his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him that changed no matter who he was or whoever he was pretending to be, until his breathing slows and his sobs come to a shaky stop.

"i missed you too, haechan," you breathe. he shakes his head. "i did-" you insist, but he shakes his head again, a hand coming to touch your arm on his waist, squeezing tight.

"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers.

"donghyuck," you correct, stroking the side of his cheek lovingly, your fingertip stained with his tears. "i missed you."

"i missed you too." he says it like the words are dangerous, hushed and quiet. "are you…are you really coming back to me?"

"do you think we can be friends?" you ask, tentatively. not lovers, not strangers. this was the only in-between you knew that could do justice to the ways you knew each other, the only way you could see yourself holding on to him now.

he looks at you for a long time, until you forget your question. his nose is tinted pink, his eyes still watery as he drowns in his thoughts.

he swallows. "are you sure?" he asks, softly. "your first time being with someone…and it's not even a real relationship."

"you're doing that thing again," you murmur. "where you tell me what's good for me. how i should do things." you soften when you look up, seeing the guilt in his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. "i'm asking you again," you say, slowly. "do you think we can be friends?"

this time, he nods. "yeah," he murmurs. "friends who…"

you nod too, feeling your cheeks burn, and then you lean in — slotting your lips against his.

for a second, he doesn't kiss you back, and your stomach swoops.

but then his mouth is moving against yours, soft and gentle. a close-lipped kiss, just the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses together, your eyes slowly fluttering shut to focus on the feeling. and even though you'd just agreed — even though you were the one who suggested it, a part of you wondered if you could ever only want to be friends with lee donghyuck.

—

you sit at the dinner table, and haechan's entire body aches with a longing that crests over him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs.

he recalls the way he'd felt earlier, walking back across the park from the kindergarten, stopping by the grocery store and wandering the brightly-lit aisles, turning over pasta sauce and soup stock in his hands. the knowledge that you were in his home, sleeping, that he would turn the key in the lock and you would be waiting for him — burned down his throat like alcohol, a bonfire in his stomach. it felt like playing pretend. he was afraid to even drive you back to your apartment, to walk you to your door, to look at you too long in the moments after. and yet here he was, tipsy off the sweetness of being able to come home to you.

after the talk, neither of you had gone much further than kissing.

"i missed you so much," he murmurs – his voice crumpling under the weight of his own words.

"do you want to show me?" your tone is lightly teasing, dipping low as you keep your smile on your face. the warmth coursing through your body has nothing to do with the blankets pooling around your thighs, and everything to do with the boy sitting across from you — doll-like legs with miles of silky skin splayed out over the sheets, back slouching against the headboard, all crumpled in and soft and worn.

if you had gone to the bar weeks ago, let him guide you to this home, to this bed, you might already be familiar with this soft mattress in a whole different way.

neither of you can deny the way your minds wander there still, despite everything. him missing your body framed against his, you craving the sink of his chest, the curve of his waist.

there's silence, as his words register in the boy's head, pain flickering over his features. if he was feeling more like himself, he would pulled you in, caged you under him. tugged at that side of you that was always so pliant and easy for him and watched you unravel under his fingertips. the words are on the tip of his tongue — i'll show you. did you miss me too? kiss me. stay with me.

instead, his fingers withdraw, and gently touch the soft cotton of his shirt's hem, warm light flickering in his eyes. "not like this," he murmurs quietly. "not…not now."

you let out a breath, tension dissipating. "yeah," you'd murmured. "you're right."

you'd gone to take a shower while he prepared dinner. there was something terribly domestic about all of it — you padding into the living room again, each fiber of your being smelling so much like him. the way he turned from where he stood guarding the soup bubbling on the stove to see you in one of his shirts, a towel draped over your shoulders. the feelings he hadn't learned to pin down, hadn't had the time to sort, intensified in his chest, an ache lodged inside him.

friends. he'd introduced you to his sister as his friend, watched you braid her hair and laugh with her softly, heard your sweet voice wishing her good luck with school. the nights he'd spent with you by his side — talking about the band, about his tattoos. asking about how he did during the show, seeking your praise, wanting to know so badly how he appeared in your eyes. the way you somehow reached right through him and made him listen, made him stop. was that friendship?

now with all the plates cleared and washed, the sounds of your clothes tumbling in his washing machine in the background, the smell of black nail polish prickled his nose as you leaned over. your fingers brushing his, holding them in place.

"should i make it a little messy?" your voice is light.

"it's usually messy because i get my sister to do it," he tells you, softly. "you don't have to mimic how it looks."

you nod, a small smile on your face as you dip the brush back in the bottle. there's silence, for a while, as he watches you, studying the way you look with your head bowed, feeling each careful touch of your fingers, and then —

"do you want to talk about rules now?"

you look up at him just briefly before going back to the task. he swallows.

"sure."

another pause. and then quietly, "you can't get jealous anymore, you know that right?"

"i know," he murmurs. "you told me to stop before…but i didn't. i'm sorry."

you nod. "you can't be possessive of me, either."

he hesitates. "so…no marking?"

slowly, you let go of his left hand. "you can still leave hickeys and bruises," you mumble. "just don't…don't call me yours you know?"

he didn't know if he could do that. "okay," he says, softly. "i'll try." and then, slowly and carefully, he asks, "are you going to keep coming to our shows?"

the slide drag of the brush on his nail stops. "do you want me to?"

he bites his lip. "i want you there," he says, slowly. "but i don't know if i'll be okay with having you in the crowd."

"oh."

"maybe you can watch from backstage. or the wings. i want you to," he adds, when you look troubled. "please."

"are we still a secret?"

his lips part. he wanted to say yes — but it was the way you'd asked it, like it was something you feared, that made him hesitate.

"because," you continue. "it didn't feel good, keeping it from jaemin. and as i said, i hated it when you pretended we were strangers."

he felt your hands leave his, capping the bottle of nail polish as you leaned back in your chair, tucking your knees to your chest. he keeps his hands splayed on the table, taking a deep breath.

"no more secrets," he agrees. "and stop going to those parties, y/n. if you want to see me, just tell me."

you raise your eyebrows. "we're not exclusive," you point out, slowly. "i don't go to the parties just for you. haechan, if you don't think you can do this…"

"i can," he says, hurriedly. "i'm sorry. if i see you at a party…i'll say you're my friend. i'm sorry, it's just that i…i'm just…."

"it's okay." giving him a small smile, you get to your feet, shuffling over to the kitchen. you don't hear him come closer as you fill up a glass of water on the kitchen, only know of his presence as his hand touches your shoulder carefully.

"don't go," he murmurs. his arms slide around your body, gently pulling you towards him, and you turn slightly so you can see his face.

"i'm still here," you respond, softly.

but he shakes his head. "don't go."

you turn around in his arms and your lips brush, his own parting against yours, seeking permission. all the time he wonders when he'll stop kissing you like he's swearing an oath — devoted in the way he wraps his lips around yours, patient and true in the way his tongue moves against yours, and even now, something loving in the way he murmurs your name into the cavern of your mouth. his hands move carefully on your skin, nail polish still drying on his fingertips, and if either of you question the way you kiss, you keep it to yourselves.

—

it's different, watching haechan perform, when he's not performing for you.

you saw the way his eyes flitted through the crowd, making and breaking eye contact so fast it was hard to keep track of, each twitch of his expression rehearsed and calculated. a teasing part of his lips, sinful face fluttery and slack as the music crashed all around him, like he could physically feel it. he was right — you didn't see him the same. you knew it was the performance, that he was really the one trying to please the crowd, riding off the pleasure of attention. but despite seeing through it as he had said, it still had you feeling tightly wound inside, pressure building up inside you, a craving for his touch intensifying with each time his hips shifted against his guitar.

and even worse was the way your heartbeat would trip over itself every time haechan's eyes flickered over to you. never during a song, but in the moments between — mark's voice speaking through the mic, the rest of the boys checking on their instruments or interacting with the crowd. he would look over at you briefly, almost shyly, his heart-shaped lips creasing into a smile.

"friends?"

the moment you'd arrived home, you had pleaded with jaemin not to be upset with haechan, but it turned out you didn't need to. haechan had left a message the night of the party, and when you'd walked in looking more well rested and collected than you'd had in days, jaemin knew that you had been safe. you'd reassured him too, when he asked if keeping you from him only made things worse. both of you had needed that time to come to this conclusion. only time would tell if it was the right one.

"so you're going to be friends with benefits?" jaemin raised his eyebrows. "was this his idea or yours?"

"mine," you mumble. feeling the need to defend yourself, you raise your voice just slightly. "i just think that…i want to keep seeing him, and i want to get to know him…but i don't want him in that way. anymore," you add, when jaemin bites his lip.

"did you really lose feelings, or are you just not ready?" he asks, quietly.

you force a laugh out of your chest. "you think i'd still have feelings for someone who hurt me that much?" you try to say it sarcastically, but you don't have the heart to. the words have no bite, and instead truth echoes in the spaces between.

"that's not the worst thing in the world, y/n." his voice is steady, and calm. "it's okay to take your time. if you remember that lying to yourself will only hurt more."

but there are things to soothe the ache.

"did you like the show?"

haechan roughly tugs off his jacket, letting it slump off his shoulders and onto the floor. the moment the last song ended he'd rushed off stage and right to you, eyes blazing under his heavy makeup, the both of you stumbling into one of the small storerooms backstage.

a single small lightbulb barely illuminates the small space, bathing you in warm light and shadow. shelves of boxes line most of the walls, except for a sliver of space that currently presses against your back, your fingers touching the cold surface.

"it was good," you murmur.

"yeah?"

he's still hungry for more. you can see it in his eyes — for all his good girls and you're perfect, you knew he craved to be adored too.

"you were right," you say, softly. "it feels different, watching as your friend."

his smile falters.

"i…i like it more," you continue. "being in the wings…makes me want to get your attention."

"you have my attention now, princess," he points out. he touches a hand to your waist.

it's almost scary, how you slip back into old patterns. a heady rush filling your senses, slowly dragging you under. this is why i couldn't stop, you think, as he leans in ever closer, his eyes glazed over as his gaze slides to your lips.

there's a beat.

"i forgot to ask," he mumbles. "no possessiveness right?"

your mind clears, just a bit. you nod, breathlessly.

"what else?" he asks. looking at you, timidly, he asks. "can i…are pet names okay? can i still call you baby?"

"baby's fine," you whisper.

"princess?"

"hmm?"

"no," he smiles fondly at you. "i was asking if calling you princess was okay."

you want to bury your face in your hands. or his chest. "princess is fine."

his smile grows wider, before he suddenly turns serious again. "are we starting anew?" he asks, hesitantly. "can i…can i bring up things from before? or are we pretending that this is our first time…"

"no more pretending," you murmur, feeling like a hypocrite. "why? did you want to bring up something?"

"kind of," he nods towards the door. "just thought you're going to love this," he says, slyly. "hearing stage crew and bandmates walking by, knowing that at any point someone could hear us, someone could come in…"

and now you do bury your face in your hands, and when he reaches around to hug you, you lean against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate against you, feeling you with warmth.

"it's okay," he murmurs, as his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. "i won't play with them this time, baby. today's all about you, hm?"

his hands falter, perhaps realizing the words were too tender, a little too loving for what you both claimed this would be.

"lets try not to do anything…romantic?" you mumble.

you regret the words as soon as you say them, your teeth biting into your lip sharply.

haechan's face has shuttered down. you can't read his expression, as he nods, taking your hands in his and kissing them.

"please." you look at him, this time taking the dive, feeling yourself free-falling towards that familiar desire, letting the current swallow you whole. "i need you."

in spite of everything, haechan's lips are as gentle as they've always been.

his lips brush yours, once, twice, before he locks in his kiss, hands trembling slightly as he touches the side of your face, cups you in his palms. you want to ask him what's wrong, pulling away slightly, but he makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping to kiss you fiercely. his tongue slides against yours, and he groans low against your lips.

your hands fumble on his shirt, skimming his broad shoulders, strong arms. he pants into your mouth when your drag your nails down his chest, breaking away. tugging his shirt roughly over his head, he grabs your hands and places them on his chest before leaning in to kiss you again, this time working his way down your neck, his wet kisses making your body shudder as you cling onto him for support.

"please," you murmur, wondering why he was staying so silent. "please-"

but he shakes his head, fingers tracing your jaw, tilting your head up so he lap his tongue over a newly formed bruise. the room is silent save for the sound of his lips, but you crave his voice, his words guiding you through everything, the lilting cadence of it.

"haechan-" a foreign feeling spikes in your stomach as he ignores you, continuing to kiss his way down to your collarbones, fingers tugging your collar wide open. it felt like he wasn't there at all.

he breathes heavy against your skin as he curls his hands around your hips, holding on tight. still he doesn't say a word, or even make a sound, as his caress the back of your thighs.

"stop-" you blurt out. roughly, you take his hands in yours, gripping them by the wrists.

he lifts his head.

"haechan," you start, but he just looks at you. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.

"haechan, you're scaring me." your voice is panicked and tight, the tension so overwhelming that tears begin to blur your vision, your chest rising and falling faster.

"baby?" he asks, alarmed. "what's wrong?"

"please talk to me," you beg, wiping away the tears on your cheek. the ache has soothed slightly at his voice, but you need more. "why…why aren't you talking? you always…you always used to-"

"i'm sorry," he whispers, pulling your body into his, wrapping his bare arms around you. "i'm here," he soothes, in your ear. "i'm here," he mumbles again, and again, until your breathing calms down.

"i'm sorry," he repeats, kissing you softly. "i'm here now, baby, okay?"

you nod, and now you guide his hands to your thighs, feel the way his breathing hitches.

"can i…?"

"please," you say, breathlessly, and his hand cups your warm core.

"fuck," he blurts out. you were so warm, the seat of your panties completely soaked through. he slides them to the side with nimble fingers, inhaling sharply as he strokes your folds.

"how are you so wet? fuck-"

"take them off," you plead, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your skin. immediately, he tugs your panties and skirt down roughly, almost frustrated, barely waiting for you to step out of them before encouraging you to spread your legs wider as he strokes you, fingers dipping to catch at your entrance, your swollen clit.

"so fucking wet," he marvels, groaning slightly as he swipes his fingers softly .

"from watching you perform," you say, softly.

the words send pleasure thrumming low in his navel. "yeah?" he murmurs, eyes meeting yours.

slowly, he drops to his knees, and suddenly you feel hypersensitive — his breath on your thighs, hands gripping you tightly. he suckles a kiss close to your core, and you whine, loudly, the sound too loud in the small space.

he looks up at you, sultry eyes framed in dark eyeliner. "let me hear you, baby," he coaxes, easing your legs open. he sticks out the tip of his tongue, and gives your clit a gentle flick, your hips bucking into his face before you can stop yourself. "i've been dreaming about this," he sighs, before he closes in and suckles on your clit.

he lapped at you like all he'd done in your days apart was think about how best to do it — alternating between suckling on your clit, licking your folds with his tongue wide and flat, and prodding at your entrance. one hand keeping you pressed against the wall, his other slips around your entrance, sliding in one long finger, the way your walls suck him in making him moan, vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. you can feel the jut of his finger joints, the pad of his finger curling against your walls, while his tongue focuses on your clit, drawing shapes and letters expertly.

you slump further against the wall, the pleasure making your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up, your hands tangled in his hair, knotting them around your fingers.

"i can't stand-" you're cut off by a moan, as he bites into your thigh, licking up the wetness that stains them, a mix of your arousal and his saliva. "please," you wish you were on a bed, wish both of you had had more patience to go somewhere and do this right, feel the whole weight of his body on yours.

"cum," he pants, sucking on your clit with his plush lips as he coaxes another finger into your warm, now mimicking a vibrating motion with his hand as he pushes in hard and fast. he doesn't break away even as he moans out, now curling his fingers languidly against your walls. "fuck, baby, i need you to cum now because i can't wait any longer-"

his tongue presses onto your clit, and the pressure pushes you overboard. his hand the only thing keeping you upright, pushing roughly into you, he eats you out until your orgasm is over, kitten licking your clit as his head moves this way and that. you open your eyes and see him staring right at you, desire pulsing in his pupils, eyes blown out and dark.

"good?" he breathes, both hands now gripping you tight. you nod, swallowing and gasping. his face is smeared with you, mouth and nose shining and glossy. he licks around his lips, mouth hanging open as his eyes glint.

"more?" he asks, and you nod, gasping, falling to your knees. now, you're finally able to touch him, as your body crashes into his, causing him to nearly tip over from how he kneels, sitting back on his ankles to draw you into him. you kiss him deeply, letting his lips wrap around your tongue just the way you loved it, feel his hum vibrate against your own chest.

his hands ghost under your shirt, and you help him pull it off, his hands cupping your breasts with his familiar touch, sucking kisses down your cleavage as you gasp for air. his hands roam your body indulgently, as if he was afraid you'd dissolve if he wasn't mapping your skin with his palms, his tongue, his lips. one hand trailing up and down your back, unclasping your bra, while the other squeezes the back of your thighs, resting his hand on your ass.

he suckles on your nipples like he had all the time in the world, as if you weren't in a cramped store room feeling as if you were about to explode from his touch alone. gentle tongue drawing circles around the bud, eyes staring up at yours with devotion. your hips move against his, and his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, his hips starting to grind up against you as well.

"turn around," he mumbles. "now, princess."

"i want to see you," you protest, hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly walks forward on his knees, pushing you towards the wall.

"i'm sorry, baby-" he kisses you, placatory and sweet. "we'll go again in my bedroom later, okay? need you like this now."

you let him maneuver you until you're facing the wall, legs spread apart as he kneels in between. trying to soothe you, he rubs a hand over your stomach, reminding you of his presence the entire time he rids himself of his jeans and underwear, rolling on a condom, tension building with every small sound, until you can feel something thick and heavy press between your legs.

"haechan-" you pant, your back arching just slightly as you lean towards the wall for support, feeling his hand squeeze your hip.

"i know," he mumbles, making slight shushing sounds as he eases himself against you. "i know, baby."

even though he was behind you, you knew the face he would make as you felt his tip slowly push past your entrance, the way his eyebrows would float upwards as his eyes went unfocused, lips parting in a lovely 'ah- ah' that he tried hard to contain behind hisses and bitten lips. part of you still wants to see it, but all thoughts are lost as he fully sheaths himself into you, feeling him deep inside from the position. his hand on your hip creeps over to your navel, and he pushes gently over where he was buried inside you, the pressure somehow intensifying as you feel full from all sides.

slowly, his body presses you further into the wall, and you gasp as the cool surface brushes your chest. he kisses the nape of your neck, and your body trembles, shifting against him and whining as you clench around him from sensitivity. behind you, haechan mumbles out a string of curses, hips jolting forward unsteadily before he stops himself.

"please move," you whisper, and he moans, finally thrusting into you. he finds a rhythm that's slow and deep, feeling full and stretched out each time you throb around him. a particularly harsh thrust has you whining, your hips tilting towards the wall, trying to get away, but suddenly the solid weight of his body presses against you ever harsher as he rolls his hips, his chest pressed to your back. he feels stronger, and sturdier than he ever did before, as a hand creeps down to your clit and begins to rub slow and lazy circles, his body attuned to yours. you jolt away from the simulation, ass suddenly jolting back against his length, making you cry out again, sandwiched between pleasure.

"don't run from it," he coaxes. "just take it, hm?"

you had nowhere to go as he fucks himself into you, wet sounds filling the small space, and you're sure the floor is wet with your arousal, can feel your next climax approaching fast, making you forget about the ache in your knees and in the way your head pressed against the hard wall. you begin to shake in his hold, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock while he bullies your clit relentlessly, but once again his chest presses into you, strong arms holding you firmly in place as he overflows your body with pleasure, a hand slowly grasping yours and squeezing.

"i missed you, baby," he says, quietly, voice surprisingly steady despite the way he was ramming into you. "i really missed you." his lips brush the shell of your ear.

you cum unexpectedly, crying out, squeezing tight around him as all the muscles in your body tense. your hand squeezes tight around his as the other rubs quick circles on your clit, working you through your orgasm. you can feel him still behind you as he cums too, whining in a pitch and tone you'd never heard from him before, desperate and achy as you clench around him again from the sound, so sensual that it rekindles a fire inside you despite the soreness in all your limbs.

your weak hands fumble against him, scrabbling against his strong grip. he pulls out with a hiss, helping you turn around to face him. in the semi-darkness, you can see the concern pooling in his eyes, bright and scared.

"was it too rough?" he asks, breathlessly. his hands skim your frame, pulling you onto his lap.

you shake your head, nuzzling into him. you're torn between watching that silvery glow in his eyes, makeup smudged around all his corners, and burying yourself deep inside his chest until you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek.

"baby? are you alright?" he rubs gentle circles on your back, as you nod. "use your words, please," he says, softly.

"you got stronger," you blurt out.

"did i hurt you?" he moves against you, something protective in the way he holds you that makes your body sing with warmth.

"no," you say shyly. "i loved it."

you lift your head just quick enough to catch the way his face crumples. before you can ask, he leans in and he's kissing you again — soft, gentle, sweet and almost shy. when you part, he looks dazed, eyes drifting down to your lips and wandering back up to your eyes.

"you deserve better," he says, quietly.

he looks down, at the way you're sitting in his lap, and then tilts his head sharply to look around the store room, as if he meant you deserved better than this for your first time back with him. as if this was about sex at all.

you take a deep breath, and shake your head. "haechan, you're exactly what i deserve."

the name rings out in the space. it seems to ground him, and he shakes his head to clear it, slowly untangling himself from you as he gets ready to help you up.

you swallow. "take me home," you tell him. "take care of me."

he does exactly as you say.

—

attention simmers on your skin, a palpable heat you're unable to shake.

girls circle the kitchen island like sharks, eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights, but they're never able to come close as it's so clear haechan's focus is entirely on you. haechan's back is turned to the party as he sits on the counter, long legs spilling over and the muscles in his thick thighs accentuated by the way he sits, denim stretched tight and each gaping hole making you doubt your decision to come to the party here, instead of going over to his home.

it was his party, and he should go. the fans would be upset if he didn't at least show. now you were seriously regretting it, as you ducked your head to avoid the glare of another crowd as they passed by, while haechan knocked back another drink.

he had been alight with energy ever since the show ended — agreeing amiably when you suggested going to the party, his smile only wavering when you reminded him he couldn't get jealous. and while your eyes wandered around the party, drinking in the scenes you hadn't seen in awhile, he was doing everything in his power to keep your attention on him, camera strap hanging from his neck as he clicked through the photos, pointing out the parts where jaemin had helped him, explaining the stories behind the pictures.

"i didn't know you were into photography." it's a stupid statement, that you want to retract immediately. of course you didn't – you didn't know much about him at all. but it makes him smile a little proudly, clicking on the dial to speed through the photos.

"yeah well, i've never taken a photo of you." he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. "i know for sure because when we…you know…when we weren't seeing each other, and i missed you…" his cheeks are burning up, his mouth barely moving as he tries to fumble through the rest of the sentence, plush lips swallowing his words. "i couldn't find any photos of you. on my camera or in my phone or…" he trails off.

your heart thrums harder in your chest. "yeah?"

"do…do you have photos of me?" he asks. timidly, softly. his eyes trained on his camera, unseeing, breath held in his chest waiting for your answer.

"of course i do," you murmur. you hope he can hear the smile in your voice, know that it's for him. "rockstar."

his fingers twitch, and he looks up at you, a searing intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, flames licking at your cheeks as you hold his gaze, a warmth that sparks down your spine like fireworks. the sounds of the party fade away, sealing you in the vacuum of his attention.

"y/n," his voice drops an octave, all the softness drained out of it.

"haechan?"

"let me take a photo of you," he murmurs. "please."

"now?"

"no, not now," he says, slowly. "you know what i mean, princess."

but you never get to clarify, because someone taps you lightly on the shoulder. haechan's eyes flicker behind you, all the intensity faded out, and it feels like your lungs fill with air again as you turn to see jisung, holding two cups in his hands, one of which he's holding out to you.

you're torn between crushing guilt, and relief that he doesn't hate you.

"j-jisung," you splutter. "jisung, hi."

"hi, y/n." he smiles, nudging the cup towards you again, and you take it. almost against your will, your eyes dart over to haechan, but his face is impassive and neutral, camera laying forgotten on his lap as he turns quickly to survey the party behind him. was he trying to offer you privacy, or was he upset?

you sip from the drink, trying not to make a face at the overwhelming sweetness that floods your tastebuds. the boy had barely put any alcohol in it. your hand almost inches towards the cup haechan made for you, wanting to balance out the taste, before you stop yourself.

you didn't want to hurt his feelings again.

"it's been a while," you say, sheepishly. "and again, i'm really sorry about last time."

"it's okay," he says, cheerfully. "haechan already apologised. besides, you can make it up to me on our date."

jisung's words have a physical effect on haechan. you feel him tense up behind you, body going stiff as he turns back to watch you, eyes trained on the side of your face.

"you still owe me a date." you don't know if it's determination, or sheer recklessness, that inspired jisung to say this to you as you stood in the kitchen with haechan just inches away, the side of his thigh still brushing your waist. "are you free tomorrow night?"

you try your best not to look at haechan. he had no right to care, you didn't owe him anything. you didn't know what you wanted to see on his face either way — whether his jealousy would make you angry, whether his sadness would hurt you instead.

"i am," you agree, hesitantly, and jisung's close-lipped smile blooms.

—

"you know there are other boys out there right? that there's a world beyond the band?"

"shut up, jaemin," you mumble, checking your reflection in the dressing room mirror one last time.

"this is good for you." his tone has changed, as he leans against the locked door. "jisung is nice. i hope it works out."

tonight's show had been different. jaemin had reluctantly confirmed that it wasn't just your imagination — the way haechan was quieter throughout, more self-conscious in his performance, eyes barely scanning the crowd, taking longer glances at you throughout the show. jisung's confidence, on the other hand, poured off him in waves, his jacket unzipped, gums showing as he smiled wide.

"i know." you sling your bag across your body, adjusting your skirt, as you turn to face him, taking a deep breath. "i'm really giving him a chance, jaemin. i'm…i'm taking this seriously, even if you don't believe me." it wasn't a lie. you barely knew anything about jisung, and jisung barely knew anything about you — but he was always sincere and sweet, quietly brave under his shyness. you couldn't forget the way he looked at you even with haechan by your side. it made you want to give him a chance too.

"i believe you," he reassures. "good luck, okay?" the door unlatches with a small click, and he gives you one last wave before heading out into the corridor.

your eyes dart back to your reflection one last time before you turn back, satisfied with your appearance, and start towards the door. you barely take a step before there's a creak, and you think it's jaemin coming back, or perhaps jisung, wondering why you took so long.

but of course, things are never easy.

a familiar face enters the room, pushing the door open wide. he doesn't bother to close it, just takes you in for a second — eyes sweeping your frame, taking in your jewelry, the hints of makeup on your skin, your clothes, your neat hair. dejavu crawls over your skin, remembering the first time you'd met jisung, the way haechan had cornered you in the dressing room after, too. you tense your shoulders, preparing for the fight.

"you look nice," he says, quietly.

your lips part. "haechan-"

but before you can speak, he's blurting out his next words. "j-jisung's going to love it," he stammers out, shadows flickering in his gaze as he swallows, throat bobbing. "i… i just came here to say good luck." at your surprised expression, his lips curve up into a sad smile. "that…that's what friends do, right?"

"yeah." your hands grip onto the sling of your bag tightly, afraid of what your hands would do if you let go.

"i'm going to go now," he mumbles. "i…have fun, y/n."

there isn't a trace of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes soft and fond. he leaves before you can say another word, not closing the door behind him. you can hear his boots all the way down the corridor, can hear him disappear up the stairs.

you try not to think about his voice, as you take the back exit out of the venue, see jisung standing in the warm summer night, smiling under a streetlight. try not to dwell on the fact that haechan might have actually wished the best for you – no more layers of pretense under pretense, no more feelings without reason.

it's easier said than done.

—

two hours pass, your food gone from your plates, only the dregs of your drinks left in their glasses, before jisung finally clears his throat.

"this isn't working out, is it?"

"i'm sorry," you say, biting your lip. you'd walked to see a movie, something jisung had picked out, but had been mind-numbingly dull to you. you settled to watch his reactions instead, the way his hands flew over his eyes at the more intense scenes, the way he bit down on his fingers when the tension spiked. it was cute, but less so when he started asking you questions about the movie, and you had to admit you didn't remember any part of the plot past the first 20 minutes.

late night dinner hadn't been better, each topic running itself to the ground quickly, your opinions and lack of opinions causing each conversation to crash to an uncomfortable halt. good things take time, had been jaemin's text to you when you asked for help. you were sure that jisung and you weren't acting like your true selves, the prospect of the date altering the way you talked and responded to each other, until you'd finally come to the conclusion that perhaps you just weren't compatible.

"i really thought this would work out," jisung says, a tinge of sadness coloring his words.

"i wanted it to," you confess. selfishly, you had almost been excited at the prospect of things working out with jisung — needing confirmation that you could still feel for others. excited for the date leading to the next, to fall in love with surety.

excited to find the first relationship, the first 'you and i' that haechan seemed to think you deserved.

"it's okay," jisung reaches out, pats your hand clumsily, shyly, as if surprised that reaching towards you meant he actually got to touch you "i didn't know much about you when i asked you out, anyway. just thought you were really pretty." he looks mortified again, and it makes you laugh — everything about him still endearing.

"do you want to just be friends?" you ask, gently.

it's like a weight lifts from the conversation, and he sighs, relieved. "yeah," he echoes. "friends."

the silence that follows is a lot more peaceful. jisung slumps slightly in his seat, like the tension has left his body. his deep voice somehow still manages to sound timid when he speaks up next.

"since we're friends…"

you nod, encouragingly, taking a last sip of your drink.

"can i ask…do you like haechan?"

you nearly choke. jisung was looking at you carefully, although he smiled at the expression on your face.

"a-are you sure you want to talk about this?' you stammer.

he shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "i'll always be curious about it, and i guess this is my chance to ask."

you don't have the heart to answer him directly.

"i…i used to," you say, slowly. "but that was when i didn't know him."

"know him?" he asks, confused.

you nod. "yeah. i didn't really know him as a person….just…knew the performance, i guess."

jisung still looks confused, but he nods along. "well, do you know him now?"

you think of the sunlight in his living room. the faint dimple on his cheek as he showed you a photo of his sister running towards the camera, her face alight as she called out for her big brother. his arms around you in the kitchen, as he asked you to stay. the slope of his neck as he turns towards you at the end of a song — the fading sound of his guitar as his eyes sought yours.

"maybe," you say, softly.

"and?" jisung prompts. "could you like him now?"

you don't answer him aloud, but your unspoken words ring in your head.

—

it's different this time, haechan tells himself, as he grips his phone in his hands.

it's different this time, because he knew where you were. he knew why you weren't calling.

he slumps back against his bed, his body heavy with alcohol but his mind racing wild, each thought outpacing the next.

the apartment was silent and empty. both jeno and mark were gone for the night. haechan hadn't bothered to go to the party, knowing that he would feel jisung's absence like a pain lodged in his ribs. he wonders if jisung will bring you home, here, whether you'd let him, even if he knew jisung wasn't the type of boy to go further than hand-holding on the first date. he thinks of it anyway — of hearing your sounds through his bedroom wall. whether it would make you needier to know haechan was listening.

he feels like a loser. he's never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin, more unclean, more ashamed. but then again, there's no one around to know, as he lets his mind wander a little farther, away from you and jisung, away from his phone, sinking deep into the last time he'd touched your skin, images and sensations jumping out eagerly at him when he closed his eyes. flicks through moments that caused a heat to lick down his spine, the familiar hum of pleasure buzzing low in his navel — your legs on his shoulders, your hands in his hair. your taste, the patterns he would draw on your body so you'd shake just the way he liked, the spot on your neck he could kitten-lick to feel you tense up all around him.

that night, even after he'd fucked you in the store room, you had been insatiable.

he'd tried to touch you like the other girls he used to play with — never speaking much, preferring to use his mouth for other things, let their own imaginations run wild with what he could be thinking behind his hooded eyes. he'd taken you with your face turned away from him, pleasure without intimacy, sucking bruises as a keepsake for you after the night ended, not as if you were his to keep or to lose.

let's try not to do anything romantic.

but then you'd begged him to talk to you. told him to take you home. he'd hated it — hated the way you folded for him, like someone had given him powers he couldn't help abuse. do you know how tender this is for me? he'd wanted to ask, as he was touching you again in his sheets back home, racing to meet your every demand before you asked for it.

your legs parted for him as he entered you, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure to watch your every expression, the look he'd been dying to see — your eyelashes fluttering, lips parted silently, the sharp gasp as he found your soft spot, your hands scrabbling against his skin. he held your gaze even as he let you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locked in a sweetheart's cross behind him as he pushed your legs even higher, letting him in deeper. he'd never imagined himself with anyone like this before — a position so full of love and closeness, feeling your body and ripple against his, leaning in to kiss your lips softly, kiss away your desperation.

he'd almost gone crazy when you found your voice amidst all the pleasure.

"donghyuck," you'd breathed, saying the name like a prayer. "feels so good."

he had stilled, slowing to a stop, even though he was painfully hard in you. his heart racing in his chest, pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

"you," you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. "you make me feel so good, 's like no one else-"

"yeah?" he picks up the pace again, tilting your body at an angle now so he could go even deeper, watches the way your face changes. he was the one who pulled that sound from your chest — sated but desperate at the same time, needy but satisfied. "i make you feel this good, right? i'm good for you, everything's for you-" he babbled, not making sense to even himself, your praise burying itself deep inside him like a siren song.

you'd choked out more praises, pretty words tumbling from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his.

"more, hyuck-" you pulled at him, nails scratching down his back. "hyuck-"

it's like he can hear your voice, as his hand slides down to his hip, down to his leaking cock.

he jerks himself off like that — to the images of you pressed under him, your voice calling his name. he does it fast, with no finesse — tugging roughly, the slide too dry, but he doesn't care about drawing out the pleasure, doesn't think it matters if you're not here with him.

he feels even filthier after he finishes — peeling off his soiled shirt, as he stumbles to the bathroom. he knows he won't hear from you tonight, that you wouldn't do that to jisung, but still he keeps his phone unlocked with the ringer on next to his bed as he lays down again.

maybe he would wake up, and you would tell him he could never see you or touch you again. his mind wanders in another direction now, away from your body, away from pleasure — to the ways you made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. when you said his name. when you'd comforted him as he was crying, the kindness in your eyes despite all the ways he hurt you. sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of ways to keep you with him as your eyes wandered off. look at me, he'd wanted to beg. think of me. just me.

he goes to sleep thinking about how this could be the last night before you'd really only exist in memory and fantasy, before everything changes.

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35

#haechan smut #fic: rockstar haechan #haechan angst #haechan fluff #haechan au #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct smut #nct angst #haechan scenario #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #donghyuck smut

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stevesbipanic · 2 months

Text

@steddieangstyaugust Day 6: "Who did this?"

Cw: homophobic language used (f word, not used by main characters)

Steve was late.

He was never late which is why Eddie had spent the last twenty minutes pacing around the trailer. Since Spring Break and Eddie's release from the hospital Saturdays had been movie night for the two older boys. A movie night that became date night a couple months ago when Steve smiled so softly at him and Eddie couldn't help but risk it all and kiss him. Steve never was late, but especially not on Saturdays.

Eddie knew Steve had a closing shift, solo because Robin had finally gotten the courage to ask out Vickie. Sometimes closing took longer alone but Steve always would call to let Eddie know. Eddie had already tried ringing the store multiple times but got nothing but voicemail.

Now, twenty minutes later, he couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed his keys and tried to keep his panic under control as he drove to the store, hoping that maybe he'd pass Steve on the way and it would all be a misunderstanding.

His relief at seeing Steve's car parked outside Family Video was short lived. The lights in the store were off, doors shut, no Steve. He parked quickly, jumping out, that's when he saw the real state of Steve's car. The tyres were slashed, headlights and a couple windows smashed and as he rounded the side looking for Steve he saw in bright red spray paint "faggot".

"Shit," Eddie whispered, "Steve!?" he called out desperately. Against all odds he heard a whimper from behind the store. He quickly ran around, his eyes catching on a crumpled figure curled up on the ground. "Steve? Baby, sweetheart, are you ok? Who did this? What hurts, love?" Eddie rambles crouching down towards him, brushing his fingers gently on his face which thankfully looks unharmed, Steve couldn't get another concussion.

"Ankle," Steve whimpers out, Eddie sees that it's red and swollen, he hopes it's just a sprain since it looks ok otherwise. "Stevie, what happened baby?"

"Can we go home first please?" Home had been the trailer for awhile now, Steve rarely went back to Loch Nora these days. "Of course, sweetheart, where are your keys, Wayne and I will come deal with your car later."

Steve whimpered again, "They're on the roof, I fell trying to get them back." Eddie sighed, running a comforting hand down Steve's side, "That's ok, sunshine, we'll deal with that tomorrow too, c'mon I've got you just lean on me." Eddie looped an arm under Steve helping him limp back to the van, Steve pointedly didn't look at his car. The drive home was quiet but thankfully not tense, more tired.

Eddie set Steve up on the couch, a pack of frozen peas on his ankle, he'd get Wayne to look at it when he got home later. He gingerly sits beside him, trying not to jostle Steve's foot too much. Steve immediately leans against his side, the weight of the night seeping out of him.

"I'm sorry."

Steve looked up quickly, "Why are you sorry?"

"You wouldn't have gotten hurt, whichever assholes that did that wouldn't have done it to you if it wasn't for me, Steve."

Steve sighed, "Eds, look at me." Eddie lifted his eyes to meet Steve's hazel ones wondering how much longer he'd get the privilege of being close enough to see the flecks of green in them. "I faced monsters worse than some homophobic assholes to get the honour of loving you, Eddie."

Eddie's breath caught in his throat at Steve's words but he continued, "I don't care what they call or do to me as long as you're always there to come get me, that I always get to come home to you, that's all that matters to me, not the car, not words, just you and me, ok?"

"Ok," Eddie whispered, he thinks he'd start crying if he tried to respond anymore. Steve nodded, satisfied, "Good, I love you, Eds, now can we please watch a movie. We were supposed to finish the trilogy tonight and if I see Dustin on Monday and can't answer his questions he'll pick you as his favourite and that won't do."

Eddie giggled at that, even when faced with danger and hate, Steve could make him smile, "Of course, sunshine." As the text began to scroll on the screen he wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, "Love you too, baby, thank you for giving me the honour." Just him and Steve, against the world, upside down or otherwise.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #angst #who did this #teary tuesday #steddieangstyaugust

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totalswag · 22 days

Note

Please a Drew and reader. They are in the dating faze getting to know each other. However Drew is having some trouble getting to know her. Reader has been in a quite toxic relationship before with a guy that could be mean, did not like when she was being physically loving (holding hands, kissing, hugging) brushing her off literally and could sometimes make her feel like she was being a burden whenever she was talking, which in turn has made her not open up to much, in fear, that she will come off as annoying. When they are having a date at home, Drew pulls her close to hold her and kiss her forehead, but she pulls away after awhile. He then brings up what has been bothering him, afraid, sad and a bit nervous that she does not like him as much as he likes her.

you can trust me — DREW STARKEY

authors note hi baby! thank you for the request and sorry it came so late when you initially requested. life has been crazy since my semester has begun.

REQUEST— open

summary holding back when it comes to physical touch and being your complete self in a new relationship with someone new.

warning(s) mentions of past toxic relationships, insecurities, questioning self-worth.

Drew and you have been seeing each other for almost a month. You haven't felt so happy in a long time to be with someone that values, supports, and loves you for who you are.

Meeting him was unexpected but came into your life when you needed him the most. Drew is very gentle with you and patient in ways you couldn't describe.

Drew has noticed that you are reluctant to touch him and quickly pull away or get nervous before taking his hand. This is something he has noticed about you as you have spent more time with him. He wants to know why you're like this but wants you to be comfortable.

Both are getting to know one other. You haven't gathered the guts to discuss your previous relationship with your ex, who treated you like dirt and never wanted you to touch him. Whether it be holding hands, kissing, embracing, or any other physical contact.

Physical touch is a part of your love language. So being pushed away from someone you care about while attempting to express your feelings for them makes you feel burdened.

Your ex ruined you in a lot of ways.

Once you met Drew, immediately knowing you can be yourself with him without him retaliating. But, you haven't showed him that side of you yet because of your past.

Drew invited you to his apartment for dinner tonight and prepared your favorite pasta dish. He understands you've had a difficult week at work, so he thought inviting you over for dinner would cheer you up.

"Thank you for dinner, Drew; it was delicious," you say, smiling sweetly as you finish your pasta.

"I really appreciate that, Y/N," he says with a smile. "I'm always open to making you dinner."

He’s so sweet

Drew and you cleaned the kitchen before heading to the living room to watch a movie to end the night. He thought it would be good to bring out the food and drinks while you waited on the couch.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" With the TV remote in his left hand while looking at the movie selections.

"Uhh pitch perfect" you reply.

Drew nods in agreement, clicking the movie.

Drew tries to wrap his right arm around your shoulder and kiss you on the forehead halfway through the film, but you pull away hesitantly.

"Everything alright, Y/N?" he frowns with emotion and confusion, "did I do something wrong?"

Your heart fell as the question hovered there. You had been sensing this for days, even weeks, so you knew it was coming. But now that it was here, you were at a loss for words, unable to respond or justify it without driving him away.

When you eventually raised your head to meet his, you could feel the sorrow in his eyes, which tightened your chest. Your voice was barely heard as you murmured, "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

Everything in you was crumbling all together.

"Then why?" With a hand sweeping through his hair, he trailed off, unsure of how to carry on. "Why are you putting distance between us? Are you —? When he began again, you could hear his hesitation and fragility in his voice. "Do you not like me as much as I like you?"

Please don't say that

His words punched you in the gut— hitting you so deep. This wasn't fair to him what so ever. You like him as much as he likes you. Feelings are mutual.

"It's not that," you answered hastily, your voice shaking as you tried to fight back the tears that were about to fall. Yes, Drew, I do like you. Many times.

"So why," He asked. Seeking answers, he gazed at you, his eyes darting over yours. "What makes me think that you're scared to let me in?"

Fiddling with your fingers, trying to gather the words to say. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. Drew knows about your last relationship but not the whole gist.

“I’ve been hurt before,” you began, your voice trembling. “My last relationship… it wasn’t good. He made me feel like I was too much, like I was annoying whenever I tried to talk or show affection. He’d brush me off, make me feel like I was a burden. And I guess… I guess I’m afraid of that happening again.”

Drew's expression softens with hurt, anger, and confusion. He continues to let you speak while holding your hands in reassurance—thumb gently circling over your knuckles. You can't help but let a few tears as you speak.

"I'm so sorry you went through that."

"It's not your fault. I've gotten so used to holding everything in, I didnt want you to think of me differently and walk away from me" you confess with your chest.

Drew's other hand reached up to softly cup your cheek and use his thumb to wipe away the tears while his grip on your hand tightened. He said, "You're not going to drive me away," and you might believe him because of the quiet passion in his voice.

"Y/N, I like you just the way you are. I was immediately drawn to your lovely demeanor and am still doing so now. Nothing you are doing is wrong. His eyes never leaving yours, "We can take this at any pace you want and I'll still be here."

You feel a sense of relief fall off your shoulders. The fear you've been holding back slowly drifts away.

"I want you to show how much you like me whether that be words or physical touch. I would never pull you away."

You didn't push away as he moved in to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. For the first time in a long time, you felt as though maybe—just maybe—you could begin to lower your barriers as you allowed yourself to lean into him and experience the warmth and security of his embrace.

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spinningwebsandtales · 4 months

Text

Imagine Hangman Trying To Convince You To Go Out With Him

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Beer, flirtations, and teasing

Word Count: 1.4k

(A/N:) Wow! Look at me having a Top Gun idea in what seems like forever! I always love going back to movies I wrote so much for! But sometimes it takes a hot minute to get imagine ideas, but I had this idea a few weeks ago and it's been a little bit of a pain to get it from my brain into a post. But I finally succeeded and hopefully this makes the Hangman/ Glen Powell fangirlies happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Taglist: @chaoticcassidy, @the-marshals-wife, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

The Hard Deck was more rowdy than it had been in awhile. With the Top Gun pilots celebrating a hard won victory, them and everyone on base had came in to celebrate. It was busy enough that Penny called in backup to help serve the rambunctious pilots who deserved every drink they ordered. It wasn't often that she called you in, but when Penny did you knew that the night was going to be a crazy one. You had a reputation amongst the pilots, as being no nonsense and out right refusing any advances towards you before the navy men even finished a sentence. While the rumors kept the majority of would be suitors away, it only made the top pilots in Top Gun more bold.

With drink orders coming in so fast that you were barely able to keep up with them. Penny stayed close by picking up the orders you couldn't handle and ringing up tabs. You didn't pay much attention to the people that came to the counter until a familiar uniform caught your eye.

"Give me just a second and I'll be right with you," you handed off two beer bottles before setting into opening several more.

"I'll wait all night for you if that's what it takes," the pilot replied.

You stiffened, recognizing that voice. He was a notorious flirt and never knew when to take no for an answer. It wasn't your first time dealing with him and this moment would not be the last either. No matter how many times you shot him down he always kept coming back, always cocky and sure of himself.

A few moments ago...

Hangman didn't know the definition of the word defeat and he had his eye on the prize. And that was taking out the most difficult female bartender in the Hard Deck's lineup.

"Dude," Coyote tugged on Hangman's arm stopping the pilot in his tracks. "When are you going to give up? She's shot down more pilots than Maverick has and Rooster crashed and burned just last night with her."

"That's Rooster," Hangman scoffed. "I'm different."

"No you're not. What is this the third time you've tried?"

"Fourth."

Coyote rolled his eyes but watched Hangman walk away.

Now....

"Oh great," you sighed, "it's you again."

Hangman chuckled leaning against the counter, trying to get as close as possible. You took a step back, removing the last bottle cap a little violently and passing the drinks out. Grabbing more you glared at him sending a cap flying in his direction.

"Aren't you glad to see me," Hangman asked.

"Not particularly. I don't have time for you."

"And here I thought that the whole world had time for me," he smirked.

Rolling your eyes you turned away, another group of people calling for your attention. But still though you had walked away, Hangman stayed. His eyes never leaving you, watching you closely. You tried ignoring him, but when that didn't work, you glared. That only made his grin widen and he gave you a little wave. You slammed glasses down a little harder than necessary as your patience was wearing thin.

"Why do we have to do this every time?"

"Because," Hangman purred, "I don't like taking no for an answer."

"I noticed."

Watching you intensely while you grabbed another bottle of beer, you removed the cap and took Hangman's hand. His fingers immediately curled around yours and you slapped them back open, causing him to jolt before you placed the cold glass bottle in his palm, then wrapped his fingers around it and waved your hand in a 'shoo' motion. Digging some money from your tip jar, you put the cash into the register, 'Shoo. It's on me. Have a nice life Bagman."

Hangman laughed, defeated once more but not done in the slightest as he made his way back to the pilots crowding into one corner of the bar. Laughing at him and pointing fingers in his direction. What they didn't know was he was wounded, but not crashing and burning just yet. He saw that glint in your eyes and he had to sink the hook in a little more and he would have you.

Hours later and Penny flipped the sign and locked the door. You were finishing cleaning up the last bit of the bar when a check was waved in front of your face.

"Thank you so much for coming in and helping out," she said taking a seat.

"No problem," you replied putting the check in your pocket.

"I see Hangman has taken quite a liking to you," she grinned mischeviously.

"Ugh," you rolled your eyes, "don't remind me."

"He's not a bad guy."

"Sure if you like egotistical pilot maniacs. He's very obnoxious."

"Isn't that what makes him charming?"

"Absolutely not!"

Penny laughed before taking the rag from your hands, "Go on and go home. It's getting late."

"Let me know whenever you need help again."

Penny waved and you made sure to lock the door behind you. She wasn't lying that it was getting late as the sun had long ago set and quiet had settled over the beach. It was always a little creepy, especially the walk to your car. Normally you weren't scared but it was just a little off putting when no one was around and anything could happen.

"Leaving already?"

A voice sounded close by your shoulder causing you to jump and spin around. Hangman started to laugh at your startled expression, causing you to start punching him in the shoulder.

"Don't do that to me!"

"I was hoping you'd jump into my arms instead, I wasn't taking into account that you're a fighter. Can you please stop hitting me now?"

"Depends," you were fuming, "are you ready to stop being a jerk?!"

"Not particularly."

"Then I'm not done beating you yet!"

He let you get in a few more whacks before grabbing your fist and keeping a firm grip on it. You sucked in a breath, gaze flickering from his face to your joined hands back again to his face. He never stopped smiling.

"C'mon let me walk you to your car," Hangman cut the silence. The tension eased from your body and you tried yanking your hand away, only for him to tighten his grip. You huffed but relented, though you did start to protest when he intertwined your fingers together.

You could admit to yourself, that you did feel better that you weren't walking alone in the dark. Hangman had been waiting, not wanting to give up just yet as he really did like you. He just enjoyed aggravating you because you were so easily riled up.

"If you felt uncomfortable walking alone you could have said something to me," he mumbled rubbing at his neck.

"I appreciate it," you looked away squeezing his hand. "Maybe you aren't that major of an egotistical jerk."

Hangman laughed, releasing your hand so you can grab your car keys. "That makes me feel better then."

You unlocked the door and he opened the driver side door before you could even reach for the handle. Ushering you in he closed the door, letting you get buckled before leaning against the door. You rolled the window down and he stuck his head in.

"Thank you," you picked at the threads on the steering wheel.

"You're welcome," he tapped his fingers against your arm. "Does this mean that I'm growing on you?"

"Possibly."

"Think you could stomach a date with me?"

"I'll think about it."

"A kiss for your knight in a pilot uniform," he pointed to his lips.

"Absolutely not," you laughed rolling the window up causing him to hurry up and yank his head out. You backed up leaving Hangman in the headlights as he waved at you. For such a smug Top Gun pilot he could actually be really sweet. He wouldn't give up and you could respect that so for the first time you broke down.

Quickly rolling the window back down as you drove away you yelled out the window.

"Hey Bagman! Pick me up here tomorrow evening and buy me dinner!"

He laughed loudly, "It's a date!"

"Sure it is!"

You drove off, leaving an extremely happy pilot behind.

#Jake Seresin X Reader #Jake Seresin / Reader #Hangman X Reader #Hangman / Reader #Top Gun #Top Gun Maverick #Jake Seresin Imagine #Hangman Imagine #Hangman #Not My Gif #My Writing

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creepswrites · 28 days

Text

TIRED OF RUNNING | Sinclairs x Reader

YET ANOTHER REWRITE i have no idea why Tired of Running is so popular but i've always been proud of it :) the original can be read here but i will be rewriting all existing chapters to finish it!!

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work. "They got kids."

WARNING: mentioned child abuse

Sighing, you hit your head on the wheel with an exhausted groan. The Louisiana heat had been suffocating you ever since the AC sputtered to nothing a few hours ago. You'd left the windows open to prevent frying the inside of the car but it was still too hot. Even after living here for a few years, you never got used to the heat. It was fall for god's sake…

You lifted your head and tried to blink back the drowsiness aching behind your eyes. Driving for a week now had exhausted you and the heat wasn't doing you any favors. Everything felt warm and sleepy, making it difficult to focus on the road. A glance at your gas tank only made you groan. Nearly empty tank with no cell phone reception and two kids to take care of.

Speaking of kids, you glanced at the rearview mirror. Your twin boys - Peter and Michael - were passed out in their carseats and dead to the world. They were good kids, rarely fussy, and full of energy. They were why you'd been on the road for so long. You'd fled home with whatever belongings you could pack in your car and never looked back. Seeing their peaceful faces reminded you that it had been the right decision. Watching your ex husband strike Mikey for "misbehaving" had been your last straw. They were only two years old and he expected them to just simply know what behaviors were acceptable without teaching them anything.

He'd been the one who wanted kids yet showed no real interest in parenting. That had all been on you.

Which led you to where you were: off a dirt backroad in the middle of nowhere with the sun setting in an hour. If it had just been you, you would have sucked it up and walked to the nearest town in search of help. But with two toddlers, the feat seemed impossible. You didn't want them getting lost or hurt in the dark with no way of you helping them.

You got out of the car to survey your situation. The road you were on was mainly dirt and not well traveled. You hadn't even been certain they were roads if not for the signs just before you'd turned. Grass grew in wild, untamed patches and stretched out into a field to your left while the forest was close to your right. The trees offered minimal shade but were better than nothing. At least it was cooler under them instead of your hot car. But the prospect of sleeping in the dirt didn't sit well with you. Who knows what animals were even out there.

You pressed the heel of your hands to your eyes and tried not to cry. This was absolutely the worst possible thing that could have happened. If your husband was following you, which he most certainly was, then it was only a matter of time until he found you.

So you slid down the side of your car to sit against the wheel and curl in on yourself. It had been awhile since you cried since your husband would slap you for it, threatening to give you something to really cry about. You'd only withstood the abuse for so long because you didn't want Peter and Mikey to grow up in broken homes. But after you noticed they were being hit, you couldn't stay still. It had still been hard and you kept second guessing yourself all week if you were doing the right thing.

Hopefully you were.

A few hours passed before your luck changed. The sun had just begun to set, painting the skies in pinks and purples like a beautiful watercolor painting. It was finally cooler out now too, the breeze brushing your arms and face periodically. You'd just finished feeding the boys whatever food you had left in the duffle bags still and had decided to let them play in the little clearing nearby. You'd all been cooped up in your tiny car for days and you could tell they needed a break. They promised to stay close to you, running around nearby with sticks and their toys. Peter roared, running up to you with a tiny blue T-rex in hand. "'m gon' eat you!" He giggled.

You scooped him up and held him in your lap, watching his brother poking at the dirt with a stick. "Mikey, don't wander too far okay?"

Mikey didn't answer and you sighed. He always had problems listening, always content to drift off in his own world without a second thought. You'd read a book about childhood trauma and worried about Mikey sometimes. You stood up and were about to approach him when you heard the sound of a car rumbling. You'd never understood the phrase "your life flashes before your eyes" but in that moment you did. "Mikey!" You shouted, white-hot horror shooting through you. "Peter, get in the car!"

As soon as Peter squirmed out of your arms, you shot off like a rocket towards Mikey. His wide, terrified eyes were trained on the car headlights, which felt like a spotlight as you picked him up. The ground was illuminated with bright white light, making it impossible to hide from whoever this was. You practically threw Mikey into the car, slamming the door behind him and locking them inside.

The truck came to a stop and you faced it, squeezed your eyes tight, and prepared for the worst.

You heard the sound of the car door open and you turned to face the figure. When he finally stepped into the light, you nearly cried from relief. It wasn't your ex nor any of his friends. You felt your knees give out as a sob wracked your body, the adrenaline crash hitting you hard.

"Woah, woah!" The guy said, hurrying over and crouching in front of you. "Hey, it's alrigh', I ain't gon' hurt'cha." His voice was calm, the southern drawl making your eyes feel heavy. The headlights obscured a lot of your vision but you could make out his face. He was a little scruffy, covered in dirt, and looking at you with more concern than anyone had looked at you with in quite some time. "Shh, it's alrigh', you're okay…" You could tell he was scrambling, unsure how to help you but desperate to do so.

"S-sorry," you babbled through broken sobs. You didn't know what else to say and you couldn't stop the tears. "I- I thought you were- I'm sorry, my ex, he-"

He took you in his arms, hugging you to his chest. He was warm and smelt of dirt and rot but you didn't even care. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been hugged. Over the years, your ex had isolated you from your friends and most of your family so you knew it had likely been a good few years. So you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed.

But he didn't falter. "Shh, 's okay, you're okay. I gotcha." He rubbed slow circles in your back and smiled down at you, like an angel come to save you. "Y'ain't gotta 'pologize. I ain't mad."

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and leaning back slightly to look at him better. Definitely scruffy but charming in his own way. The look on his face was impossibly soft, so unfamiliar to you yet you craved that gentleness. "Sorry, I, um, I'm on the run. My ex, he, uh… Well, doesn't matter now. I got myself and my boys out 'n that's what matters."

The stranger's eyes widened slightly. Bright and pretty and you felt safe under his gaze, for some reason. "Your boys?"

You nodded and started to stand. He didn't hesitate to offer his arm, letting you steady yourself on him when you felt your head swim. "Yeah, they're in the car. Probably scared 'em shitless with my screaming." Your legs felt unsteady when you walked and you didn't miss the way the guy hovered, like he was braced to catch you if you fell. It was sweet.

You swung your car door open and the boys peered up at you, scrambling to try and hide their animal crackers. "Boys," you sighed, "What did I say about desserts?"

"To ask." Peter said plainly, too distracted by the stranger. "You're dirty, mister."

"Peter-!" You gasped, ready to apologize on his behalf.

But the man just laughed, clapping his hands together in his amusement. "Yeah, yeah, y'ain't wrong lil guy. Been workin' all day, hauling dead stuff 'round."

Peter looked morbidly intrigued, scooting closer to whisper like the two of them were sharing a secret. "Like… dead people?"

"Nah, nah, nothin' like that." The guy knelt down to talk with him easier, lowering his voice as well. "Animals who, uh, get hit by cars. Ain't got anyone to take care'a them, ain't like pets. So I come 'round 'n clean 'em up off the road."

Nodding slowly, Peter reached behind him and held out one of his dinosaur toys. "Have ya seen one'a these?"

The man seemed bewildered but offered him a sincere smile. "Nah, but, uh, if I do, I'll let'cha know, 'kay?"

Peter seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to his crackers. "I never got your name." You said as the man stood back up.

"Name's Lester." He gave you a gap-toothed grin, tilting his cap in a greeting. "Was headin' back home 'n saw yer car. Figured I'd come check on ya."

You smiled, hugging yourself shyly. "I, uh, ran outta gas. And with the boys, I can't exactly walk for help. No cell service either."

Lester frowned, scratching at his face as he seemed to think it over. He surveyed the three of you before looking out towards the setting sun. "Well, I ain't usually do this," he drawled slowly, "But there's a town nearby. 's called Ambrose. Could drive ya there so y'all could sleep for the night. An' in the mornin', we can swing by the gas station 'n get some gas for yer car."

"Really?" You stared at him with your mouth agape. "You- You'd help? Wh-what's the catch?" You couldn't accept he'd do this for nothing. If being with your ex taught you anything it's that no one was good for no good reason.

He smiled again, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Ain't no catch, honest. Jus' breaks my heart to see ya so freaked out."

You rubbed your arms nervously. "Sorry. I, um, thought you were my ex…"

Lester's face screwed up. "Well, whoever he is, hope he goes to hell if he'd scare ya that badly, sweetpea."

Sweetpea was new. You felt your face warm up and you looked away shyly. He seemed trustworthy and he was cute, in a scruffy boyish way. You liked him. "I- I really appreciate it, Lester."

"'Course. Got two brothers'a my own so I get it." He watched you open your trunk and shuffle the bags around. "They ain't as well behaved as yer boys though."

Shouldering two of the bags, you snorted. "Yeah, you see 'em when its bathtime, then talk to me 'bout behaving."

The two of you were able to move most of your belongings along with the boy's car seats without issue. The truck smelt of rot and you scrunched your nose up when you spotted the dead deer in the back. "Sorry," Lester said, noticing your gaze. "Was workin' when I caught'cha. I promise everythin' in the car is clean though."

"It's okay." The smile you gave him was genuine even if he seemed surprised by it. "You're helping me. I ain't gonna shame you for your work. 'sides, someone's gotta do it, y'know?"

Lester, incredibly, gave you a surprised little smile as he watched you round up the boys. "Yeah. Yeah. You get it."

"The car smells weird." Peter said bluntly as you fastened him into his seat. Mikey had gone quietly, only squirming a little to voice his discomfort at being buckled in. He never liked confined spaces.

"Be nice, Peter." You shot him a look. "Lester's being kind to us, be kind to him, yeah?"

Peter glanced over at the man and smiled, all gap toothed and sweet. "Thank you for helpin' Mr Lester."

"'Course, lil man." Lester said, climbing into the front seat and rooting around in the glovebox. "Always happy to help."

You climbed into the passenger seat beside Lester and felt the truck rumble to life. The truck was clearly old but you could tell Lester loved it dearly and took good care of it. Even if the engine shook the whole frame. The homemade charms littered with bones and feathers rattled like raindrops and he let out a little cheer. From out of the glovebox, he pulled out an old air freshener that smelt of disgustingly fake pine and strung it over the rearview mirror. "Best I got for the smell, sorry." He said with a sideways smile.

Your heart clenched. He was so kind to you for no reason and you almost teared up from the sweet gesture alone. "Thank you."

The truck rattled and the skull sitting on the dashboard unnerved you but you brushed it off. He worked with dead animals, something about it all just made sense. The boys didn't seem to care too much, happily nodding off only ten minutes into your drive.

"So how old're they?" Lester asked in a hushed voice, trying to not wake them.

"Just turned two a few months back. Twins, if you can believe it." You chuckled, sparing the boys a glance. They weren't identical in the slightest which you were slightly grateful for. You didn't want to be one of those parents who dressed their twins to look even more the same. "But, um, I guess they got to be too much for my ex. Managed to get out 'bout a week ago and we've been on the road since."

You felt Lester glance at you, giving you a once over. Unlike with most men, you didn't find yourself repulsed by his gaze. "He put his hands on ya?"

Shrugging, you turned your attention to the window to watch the trees. The sky was slowly getting darker, making them look like just black voids. At that moment, you became hyper aware of the ring still on your finger. The compulsion to throw it out the window was strong. "Yeah. A few times." You confessed quietly, closing your eyes to keep yourself from crying again. "More the boys than me, which kills me."

You didn't miss the way Lester's hands clutched the wheel tighter. "Well, there's a special place in hell for people like that. 's fuckin' repulsive." He grumbled that last part, like he didn't want the boys to hear it.

It made you laugh though. "You're right… It's just refreshing to hear." You tried to swallow around a lump in your throat. "All his friends were the only friends I had. Was allowed to have. And none of them were interested in helping me, much less believe me."

Lester scoffed. "Scumbags, the lotta'em. What happened ain't your fault, sweetpea don't let any of 'em get in your pretty lil' head that you did anythin' wrong." He paused, chewing on his lip before sighing. "My dad, he wasn't always the kindest to my brother. An' don't go telling this to nobody, ya hear? But I always hated folks who can jus' hurt their loved ones and keep goin' 'bout their damn business. Like it ain't botherin' em."

You knew he was right. It still brought tears to your eyes to have someone believe you. Someone who had no idea what your situation was and he was still defending you. Like your ex had no reason good enough for Lester to even ask about.

You definitely liked Lester.

"Town's just up this way," he said softly. The sight of streetlights was almost relieving to you after a long day of being on the road, hopping from gas station to gas station and only stopping at motels long enough to sleep. "Might get a lil' bit bumpy."

Bumpy was an understatement. You almost thought you'd crashed as you felt the wheels bounce against rocks, shaking the car so violently you felt sick. Your arm shot out to try and catch your balance against the window and you only let out a breath when the truck came to a complete stop.

You and Lester shared a wide-eyed look. "Forgot to lay the planks down."

Nothing about it was funny. But after the evening you had, you couldn't help but laugh. A genuine laugh. Something you hadn't done in a long time.

When Mikey began to cry from being woken up so violently, Lester got to him before you could. "Shh, s'alright lil' man, go back to sleep, shhh." He reached behind his seat to brush at his knee. "Sorry, almost there bud, jus' a bit further."

Eventually, Mikey settled back down, sniffling until he fell back asleep. When Lester sat back in his seat, he noticed your staring. "You have kids of your own or something? You're a natural at that."

He looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. "Nah, but, uh, used to babysit 'round here. Was always good with kids, I s'pose."

With the car on paved roads now, the drive up to the town was smooth. As expected of a tiny town, nobody was outside. The lights in the little shops were out and the houses were all dark. Except one house atop a hill, lit up like a lighthouse in a sea of darkness. Lester drove towards it and pulled to a stop just outside. It was a modest house, paint peeling off in places along the outside and cobwebs in high places of the awning over the door. "What's this place?" You asked as you quickly followed Lester out of the car. You were incredibly appreciative of Lester’s good deed but his car did smell like rotten meat.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be too offended.

"Family home. Inn's prolly closed for the night but I betcha my brothers'll let ya stay for the night." Lester said as he opened the backseat and began to undo the straps of Mikey's car seat.

You were struck silent. "I- Lester I can't impose on your-"

There wasn't any time to protest as the front door swung open. A large man stood there, dressed in a mechanics jumpsuit and wearing a hat over thin curly hair. "Les? The hell's this?"

Lester smiled all innocently, like this was a perfectly normal thing for him to do. "Heya Bo. Brought guests."

Bo stared you both down before running a hand over his face in exasperation. "When I toldja to come by for dinner, I ain't meaning to bring your pretty lil' girlfriend with ya."

You blushed and stammered but Lester spoke up, lifting a sleeping Mikey into his arms like he was a precious artifact. Bo took notice and his eyes widened at the sight. "I, uh," he stammered inelegantly. "What's with the, uh…"

"His name's Mikey." You mumbled, suddenly feeling unwelcome. It wasn't uncommon for people to look at you strangely for the twins, like they were some curse. Or maybe it was just your exes friends who felt like that.

Bo nodded slowly. "Mikey. Right." He looked at Lester and stepped aside, letting him pass into the house with your baby. "Well then. You folks like lasagna?"

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Whenever Les comes to visit for the eve, Vince always makes lasagna. Easy for him to take home 'n whatnot." Bo gave you a warm smile as he approached you slowly, like he was afraid you'd bolt. "If my lil' brother thinks you're good people… Well, I'm obliged to trust him. He ain't ever been wrong."

You watched Bo grab the bags you brought, only hesitating when he saw Peter, also fast asleep. "Sorry, um, I can-" You stuttered, reaching for the bags in Bo's hands.

He held onto them though, tilting his head towards Peter. "Don't even think 'bout it. You just bring your lil' one in. The gentlemanly thing to do is carry the bags." Bo gave you a flirtatious wink and went back inside.

You were left standing in the chilly, night air. The only light came from the inside of the house, which bathed the front porch and gravel walkway in warm, yellow light. You were cold and confused and absolutely exhausted. A part of you screamed against all instinct to accept their help, to trust these strangers. It had been so long since you'd trusted anyone, after all. You were desperate.

So you did.

Peter was already blinking awake from his short nap when you pushed the screen door open more and took in the house. It was a comfortable state of disarray. Throw pillows were propped against the couch at odd angles, family photographs decorated the walls in mismatched frames, and the room smelt of meat, cheese, and marinara sauce.

Lester and Bo's heads snapped to look at you. They'd clearly been whispering but they both smiled at you when you entered. Mikey was sitting on the couch, still a little bleary eyed, curled up against one of the velvety throw pillows that looked rustic and homemade. You sat Peter down beside him, brushing hair from their sleepy faces, and tried to ignore the brothers whispering. "Sorry," you mumbled as you approached them.

They both seemed surprised. "Why're you sorry?" Bo asked with a frown. "Y'ain't got nothin' to be sorry 'bout."

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, hung head low like a child being scolded. Fawn, your brain screamed. Fawn and they won't hurt you. "'m intruding with two kids, I- I know I'm not supposed to have come here, I just- Lester said the inn was closed, I didn't know where else to go, my car broke down-"

Lester cut your spiraling off by taking your hand and squeezing gently, grounding you. "Hey, hey, sweetpea," he kept his voice low and soothing, "We're happy to have ya. All three'a ya. Honest."

Bo nodded along, frowning at how quickly you retreated inwards. Lester had mentioned to him very briefly while you were outside about how your ex laid hands on you and the boys. It was what got him fully on board with offering you help. So seeing you like this broke his heart just that little bit more.

"I'm gonna go talk to Vince, let him know we got guests." Bo said as he swung open the basement door. "Les, make sure our guests are comfortable, yeah?"

Lester nodded, humming his agreement as he pulled you to his chest for a hug. You went willingly, your hands curled up in the fabric of his shirt as he hooked his arms around your shoulders. "Yeah, I got 'em." He said, shooting his brother a smile as he hugged you.

Bo nodded and descended to the basement.

Vincent hated to be disturbed while working. His brothers especially knew how entranced he'd get in a project, focused on perfecting every piece. Their mother had made him an incredible artist, which often meant he'd neglect everything, even himself, for the sake of his work. Oftentimes, Lester or Bo had to come downstairs to make sure he didn't collapse from exhaustion or dehydration. Especially when summer hit and the basement's heat was suffocating.

So Vincent didn't even lift his head when Bo came to a stop in the entryway, too focused on mending a crack in the cheek of his sculpture. "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax.

He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work.

"They got kids."

And that made Vincent straighten up. "Kids?" He signed slowly, like he wasn't sure he heard him right.

"Yeah." Bo said through a sigh. "Two lil' guys. Too old for breastfeedin' but too young for preschool. Hard to say though, been awhile since any of us were that old." He chucked humorlessly.

Vincent looked towards the wax figure slowly. "We promised Lester we wouldn't hurt children."

Bo nodded, looking annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. They're a pretty lil' thing too. Would be perfect for the museum, but, of course, Lester found 'em first."

"They can't see me," Vincent suddenly became frantic. "The children will be afraid."

The other man winced, hissing through his teeth. "Sorry bro, already promised your cookin' tonight." But Bo didn't seem that remorseful, even when his twin leveled him with an unimpressed look. "When's dinner, by the way?"

"What time is it?" Vincent signed, finally aware of the passage of time. It was easy to get lost in his work, though he promised himself he'd only come down for a few minutes to double check something. But it was easy for him to get lost.

"'s only quarter past 9. Why?"

Vincent finally moved, hurrying past. Bo was only able to make out "oven" before his brother was out of sight.

Thankfully, nothing was burnt. Vincent hadn't even spared you a glance yet, too focused on not burning the house down. Once the food was set atop the stove to cool down, he turned around to face you.

You were sat on the couch with Lester and the boys, who were trying their best to stay awake. "You must be Vincent," you said with a sniff. You knew your eyes were red from crying. Lester had sat with you, holding you while you wept. It was hard, feeling cared for. Especially by strangers.

Pain was familiar. This kindness overwhelmed you.

Vincent became shy when you addressed him, hiding behind long hair and doing his best to keep out of your sight. But Bo, never one to let his twin have peace, grabbed his arm to keep him from hiding. "Yep, managed to finally pull 'im outta that basement for dinner. Whaddya say, Vinny? You up for a proper meal with our guests?"

If looks could kill, Bo would have erupted into flames, reduced to ashes on the carpet. "Do I have a choice?" Vincent signed, managing to look annoyed even behind his mask.

"Nah." Bo smiled, all teeth and no kindness. "You set the table, I'll get enough chairs ready."

Lester turned to you, brushing stray tears away. His heart hurt when you'd started bawling after Bo left, babbling to him that you felt horrible for intruding and forcing his family to help you just because of the kids. He swore if he ever got his hands on your ex, they'd wish Vince or Bo had gotten to them first. "You okay?" He asked you gently, giving you what he hoped was a sincere smile.

You nodded, sniffing once. "Yeah, um, sorry for-"

"If you 'pologize to me for cryin', I'mma beat the ever lovin' shit outta your ex, sweetpea." Lester said, relishing in your chuckle. "We're happy to help ya, really."

Sniffing again, you nodded and wiped your eyes. "I really appreciate it. More than I think you know."

The look he gave you was impossibly soft. Like you were something precious. Lester's hand cupped your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, making your mouth fall open in surprise. "You deserve it, sweetpea. Y'really do."

Bo coughed, making Lester roll his eyes. The two shared pointed looks before Bo turned to you. "Your lil' ones need high chairs or, uh, somethin'?"

You glanced down at the boys and sighed. "I think they're down for the count."

"You can use my room upstairs." Lester said. "I ain't sleep there much anymore so it oughta be clean." Before you could even think to protest, he tapped your nose. "And don't you get all apologetic on me. I wouldn't offer it if it weren't alright."

Honestly, you were a bit relieved to get to sleep in a real bed. So you thanked them quietly, gathered the boys up in your arms, and carried them upstairs. "Second door on the right," Bo called up after you.

As soon as your footsteps couldn't be heard on the creaky wooden stairs anymore, Lester was the first to speak. "I hope you two ain't forgotten your promise."

"Lester, I toldja to find someone for the museum-" Bo hissed, anger sharp on his face.

But the younger Sinclair didn't back down. "If Mama knew you two'd killed two lil' boys, whaddya think she'd do? She'd say somethin' 'bout how if someone took y'all from her, she'd raise hell."

"Don't bring Mama into this." Bo glared daggers at Lester.

Vincent knocked on the countertop to get their attention. "He's right. We made a promise."

"We can't fuckin' keep 'em here!" Bo said, careful to keep his voice down.

"Don't gotta." Lester said, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "They ran outta gas. Let 'em stay the night, drop 'em back off at their car, they'll go on. Ain't no trouble."

Bo groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why do you even care so bad?"

Lester flushed, blotchy pink spots on his cheeks, and shrugged. "They're nice. 'n I feel bad. Their ex laid hands on those lil' babies an' I'd do anything to get five minutes alone with that sonuvabitch."

Vincent's eyes widened. "You didn't mention that!" He signed harshly at Bo.

"Didn't exactly have a moment to tell ya." He sighed with obvious frustration. "Fine, alright, we keep 'em for one night. They're gone in the mornin', ya hear?"

The three of them were quiet for awhile, listening to your footsteps overhead as you set the boys up in Lester's old room. "Swear on Mama," Lester said, keeping his voice low, "That I ain't gonna be seein' any lil' boy statues."

"Lester-!" Bo hissed.

"Swear!" Lester shot back. The two were up in each other's faces at this point.

Vincent, ever the peacemaker, knocked on the counter again. "We swear on Mama."

"Don't fuckin' speak for me, freak!" Bo huffed. But Vincent fixed him with a glare and he sighed in defeat. "Fine. Swear on Mama. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to those three."

The youngest seemed satisfied. At that moment, you came back down the stairs, frowning slightly when you noticed them. "Everything okay?" You asked as though sensing the tension in the room.

"Yep!" Lester said with a wide grin. "Hungry?"

"Starving." You smiled back.

Dinner was awkward at first, especially since you struggled to understand Vincent. But Bo and Lester happily translated and conversation began to flow easier, which you were grateful for.

"So, how long has it just been the three of you?" You asked as you took a bite out of the lasagna. Warm and cheesy and exactly what you needed after a week of gas station food.

Bo hummed as he swallowed. "'Bout ten years now. Went by in a blip, feels like."

"Oh," you frowned, "What happened? If, um, I can ask."

Vincent nodded, still nervously picking at his food. You'd noticed he only ate when you weren't looking so he could lift the mask, which saddened you. He seemed like a nice guy and you wondered what happened in the past to make him hide his face. But you did your best to look away periodically to give him a chance to eat and hopefully let him know it was fine. He probably got enough grief for it as is, you didn't need to add on.

Judging by the slowly disappearing food on his plate, you figured that was the right thing to do.

"Mama got sick. Real sick." Bo sighed sadly. "She was a really great artist, losing her hit the town hard."

"I'm sorry." You said gently. But Lester was the only one of the brothers who seemed sad. Something about that confused you. Why wouldn't they miss their parents?

You took a bite of the food. That wasn't your business.

Vincent began talking about his art then. Bo seemed to roll his eyes and ignored his signing, uninterested in translating. But Lester picked it up in his place, helping his brother talk about his art. He enjoyed painting in his free time but he primarily sculpted with wax.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You sculpt?"

"Vinny's the main artist in the House of Wax down the street." Bo nodded, answering for him. "Maybe t'morrow we'll take you 'n the boys to see it."

Vincent fidgeted with the ends of his hair, clearly embarrassed. You shot him a warm smile. "I'm sure Vincent's art is great. I look forward to it."

Once dinner was over, Bo and Lester disappeared into the living room with a couple of beers so you and Vince had the chance to wash dishes. The peaceful white noise of the running water and the simple swirling of washing dishes was nice after a long day. Vincent helped, taking whatever dish you passed him and drying it, setting it aside on the nearby dishrack.

He seemed to appreciate the silence. You almost wished you knew sign language so you could talk to him beyond yes or no questions. But you tried to ignore the shock you felt when your fingers brushed sometimes.

If he noticed, he didn't bring it up.

The soft sound of crying alarmed you. You spun around and saw Mikey standing in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing and sobbing silently. He cried for you and ran towards you, wailing for comfort. You'd barely dried your hands before you were reaching down, scooping him up into your arms. "Shhh, it's okay," you soothed him gently, Mikey had always been the more sensitive one. Waking up in a new, unfamiliar place must have startled him, you thought to yourself as you swayed with him gently.

He nodded, whimpering. "Scared."

"I can imagine." You kissed his cheek gently, rocking him like you'd done when he was an infant, needing to be settled before bed. "It's okay baby, you're alright," you repeated the mantra over and over as you heard Vincent turn off the water behind you.

Hearing his heavy footsteps behind you, you turned to face him and shifted Peter so he could see him. The tall man blinked slowly at Peter, tilting his head curiously at your son. "Mikey,, this is Vincent. He and his brothers are letting us spend the night so you and Peter can sleep in a bed."

Mikey seemed to consider this before reaching up to try and touch Vincent's face. "Hi," he whispered.

Vincent flinched slightly but didn't step back. Instead, he offered his hand for the young boy to grab at. Mikey giggled as he grabbed at Vincent's fingers and hand, seemingly satisfied. "Did you wake your brother?" You asked after a moment and winced when your son nodded. "Where did he wander off to?"

"Over here," You turned your head to see Peter half asleep slumped against Bo, barely even keeping his eyes open. Neither of the men seemed bothered though. Bo even raised his beer bottle jokingly, "Seems he's ready to get drinkin' already." He teased and you snorted.

"God I wish they'd just stay small forever. I can't even imagine them starting school yet, much less drinking." You paled at the mere thought. It seemed like only yesterday they were just born and now you felt nauseous whenever you think about them starting kindergarten. Being away from your kids for extended periods of time felt terrifying.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Vincent signing something to you. Shit. Luckily, Lester translated from his seat on the couch, "He's askin' if ya want help bringin' em upstairs?"

Blinking a few times, you nodded at Vincent with a smile. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it! Here," you adjusted Mikey before passing the toddler into Vincent's arms carefully, "just support him here," you guided his arms to the right spaces and ignored the way your heart melted seeing him asleep in someone's arms. Reminded you of easier times before you and your partner split. "Lemme grab Peter and we can head upstairs." Vincent nodded to you and waited patiently by the stairs as you stole Peter back from Bo.

You felt the pair's eyes on you as you wished them goodnight from over your shoulder and headed upstairs with Vincent trailing behind. He carried Mikey like he was fragile, breakable, and you found it incredibly endearing. You set Peter down onto the bed, nestled back in the little blanket fort to prevent them from rolling off the bed, kissing him softly goodnight. Vincent mirrored your actions with Mikey and just stroked his cheek with his thumb in lieu of a kiss. "Thanks for your help. All three of you," you whispered to him. Vincent looked at you, shadows hiding his eyes from you. "It means the world to me that you're all willing to help. I know the boys appreciate it too." You smiled at him as you stood quietly. "I should get to bed," you trailed off and Vincent nodded but didn't leave the room.

Instead, he reached his hand out towards you before tilting his head, asking permission. You gave him a curious nod and felt his hand touch your cheek, stroking under your eye like he'd done to Mikey. "Night Vincent," you whispered and ignored how your face warmed up.

He shut the door as he stepped out of the room,padding down to rejoin his brothers in the living room. None of them said a word to each other but they all had the same thought: they wanted you to stay.

The next morning, Bo collected your car and brought it to the gas station to fill back up. You'd chatted about your plans to keep going west when he'd mentioned missing you. "Place jus' feels more lively with you 'round, s'all." He'd shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

You'd gestured to the empty streets before climbing into the passenger's seat. "You sure that ain't just because this town is quiet as is?"

Bo just gave you a smile.

When you tried to start your car, it seemed to spur, dead. "What the-?"

"Everythin' alright?" He asked, leaning against the window frame.

"It sounds like the battery's dead?" You frowned, trying again to start the car.

Bo jerked his head, urging you to follow him. "Lemme take a look." You followed him around to the hood of your car and he flipped it open. He hummed as he looked around, face screwing up in surprise. "Your fan belt tore."

"My what?" You blinked owlishly at him. He gave you a look of bewilderment and you just sighed. "You definitely know more about cars than me."

He snorted at you and slammed the hood closed. "I don't think I got any in the shop but I could order one for ya and have it in a few days."

That wouldn't do. "I- I need to get back on the road soon." Panic began to rise in your chest and tighten your throat. "If we're found here, then I'd have to…" You didn't want to think about it, you said to yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut. Obviously you had a plan if you got caught but you really, really, didn't want it to come to that.

Bo nudged you gently and gave you a warm smile. "Hey, we'll look out for ya. Ain't no one gonna hurt'cha here in Ambrose. Not get many tourists anywhere, doubt they'd think to look for ya here."

You sighed. You didn't exactly have much of a choice. If your car wouldn't start, you'd just have to wait.

The two of you were walking back to the house and you felt Bo kept glancing at you. Right before you were going to ask about it, he spoke up. "I know ya wanna go see the House of Wax. Which is all fine 'n good, but ya gotta know somethin' 'fore you go there."

"Sure..?" You said plainly.

Bo sighed loudly, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "So, when Mama got sick, Vince had been away at a real good art college." You nodded along to show you were listening. Bo looked guilty. "When she got worse, I needed help takin' care'a her. Lester and I were away workin' and she needed someone at home. So, uh, near her end…" He sighed again. "I called him back home. It's, uh, still a sore spot. Wasn't able to go back, since he got in on scholarships. An' we didn't have the funds anyway, her bills were too much."

The silence was deafening. "I'm sorry." You said, at a loss for words. "I- I won't bring it up then."

"I 'preciate it. He an' I don't talk 'bout it anymore. If he goes with ya, just don't ask."

You nodded, giving Bo a small smile. "I'm sure he doesn't blame you for it."

The man smiled back at you but you could see it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

Taking a small sidestep, you bumped your shoulders together. "I know so."

Later that night, things changed.

You'd gone to bed after showering and bathing the boys, the three of you all fast asleep in the bedroom. Vincent and Bo had gone to their own rooms while Lester slept on the couch. None of you heard the two cars that pulled into the town, driving slowly down the streets looking for any sign of life. After no luck at the first few houses, a small group of people approached the Sinclair's house, heavy footfalls making the little porch staircase creak under the stress.

They knocked on the front door and a dog could be heard barking in the backyard.

Lester had stumbled awake in surprise, his brain taking a minute to catch up. No one should be at the door because nobody else was alive in Ambrose. He still went to the door, opening it with a tired yawn. "Yeah?"

A man smiled at him, an acidic look that made bile burn the back of Lester's throat. "I'm looking for someone. Do you happen to know if there's been someone visiting your town?"

Freezing, Lester immediately recognized the man. Even though they'd never met face to face, he knew everything about this man. All child abusers look the same, Lester thought as he recalled his father. They all look like scum.

"Well, I ain't too sure. I work the night shift, I jus' got home. But my brother Bo might'a seen 'em. He works down at the autoshop." He said through a yawn.

"I'd hope so. Considering their car is in his shop." The man smiled, trying to force his way into the door, calling your name.

Lester shoved him back, slamming the door and locking it with a loud thud. He ignored your ex's screaming as he ran up the stairs.

Bo was opening his door before Lester could even knock. "The hell're you-?!"

"Guests." Lester panted, frozen in place as he kept an ear out in case your door opened. "Their ex is here."

His brother's eyes widened and he stormed to Vincent's door, knocking once before opening. He tore the blankets off Vincent and shook him viciously. "Get up, get the knives, we got intruders."

Vincent snapped awake, blinking through sleep-mussed hair. "Mm?" He said around his exhausted yawn.

"Intruders! Vince! Now!" Bo snapped. "I'll get my shotgun. You helpin' out, Les?"

Lester huffed, thinking it over. "Y'know I ain't a killer, right?"

Bo didn't have time for this. "You helpin' or NOT, Les?"

The younger brother sighed. "Does dad still keep a spare gun in his office?"

"Did he ever stop?" Bo said with a smirk, pulling his boots on his feet.

Vincent stumbled to his feet, putting his own boots on to sneak back down into the basement. If he went down and through the House of Wax, they could pin the group down. Bo'd meet them head on while Lester slipped around the side of the house to catch the strays. They vowed to make quick work of all of them but save your ex for last.

The Sinclair brothers were going to protect you. No matter what.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x s/o #house of wax #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x y/n #tired of running

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shnarky-blogs · 4 months

Note

GGGRRRRR YOUR SICK MAN CONTENTS IS SO GOOOD RAAAAA 👿👿👿👹👹👹👹👹👺👺👺

anyways-

Can i request Yuushi with a male reader, who is a helpful fox spirit and accidently watch Yuushi masturbate, he saw the fox spirit and pulls him closer. With that, the fox male reader being a good boy to Yuushi and let him use his body 😩😩😩

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞

ᵗᵒᵗˢᵒᵐᵒᵗᵒ ʸᵘᵘˢʰⁱ ˣ ᶠᵒˣ ˢᵖⁱʳⁱᵗ! ᶠᵗᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚t𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞, so 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦!

ʸᵉˢ ⁱᵐ ʳᵉᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉˢ•́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀

You met Yuushi awhile back, when he moved in to his new apartment that is hella cheaper you stumbled upon him while he was cleaning the dirty place up, he saw you in the closet trying to catch a little rodent, he never seen anything like you before..

A human with fox features like the ears and tail.

Eventually you two got together and became close friends after awhile, you two sometimes cuddle up against eachother, Letting you play with his hair or wear some of his shirts.

Eversince he met you he has became lucky in life, maybe because you're an animal spirit, he's been able to get a decent job and whenever he has extra money he would buy you some clothes.

But currently due to his job he's been stressed out lately, not having time take care of himself, so you eventually took care of him, making him meals, cleaning his clothes- just being helpful with your friend.

The longer he became stressed, it slowly turned to becoming sexually stressed out..

You noticed whenever it was his day off he'd lock himself up In his room, and you sometimes hear noises, it was usually locked in the inside but today.. it seems Yuushi didn't locked the door.

Curiously, you decided to take a peak and saw Yuushi with his back facing you, you could barely hear him panting heavily as he fondled with something.

When you crawled carefully towards him to get a better look you accidentally stumbled upon something which caught his attention, His eyes shot towards you and saw you staring right back at him, his face was flushed red, when you looked down you saw his.. uh- his.. genital sticking out.. it was hard.. and leaking.. you could clearly tell he was embarrassed of being caught like this.

"Y/n.. i.. i can explain"

Be chuckled out nervously, quickly covering his cock with his pillow.

He noticed you began to crawl forward pulling the pillow off his lap.

"You should've told me.. i would be glad to help you out put y'know?.."

His breath hitched when he felt your warm palm on his cock, you gently stroked his thick cock making sure to pull out some noises out of his lips.

"Y-y/n.. F-fuck more... More please"

He pleaded out, it almost sounded so cute hearing him beg like this.

You kept on stroking his cock till the beads of pre began to build up, the knot in his lower half began to form.

As he was about to finish, you stopped stroking, getting untop of him, taking your pants along your boxers off, soon you pressed his tip against your hole, lining him up straight then slid it in causing his hips to jerk forward from the tightness of your warm canal.

"Fuck you're.. you're soo.. ugh!"

He tried to restrain himself but failed badly, he began to bounce you on his cock and you gladly let him, making sure to give him the pleasure he deserves after being so sexually stressed out due to work..

You guys went on till Yuushi was satisfied, letting him cum in you because you're so kind.. he was so Greatful for the help that he gave you things you wanted whenever he get his paycheck.

He is extremely glad you guys met, you make him feel so lucky..

#bottom male reader #ftm reader #male x ftm reader #sub male reader #x bottom male reader #x ftm reader #totsumoto yuushi x male reader #yuushi x male reader

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lowkeyerror · 6 months

Text

The Family Business Ch.5

WandaNat x Reader

Work Count: 1.2k

Chapter Notes: Angst, Violence

Summary: The guilt Wanda feels for missing your important milestones boils over and you're left trying to comfort her.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Dinner was over, but the chatter continued. Wanda had snuck off to the restroom somewhere amidst the conversation. Once she had finished up, she couldn’t fight the urge to go into her old room.

It was exactly the same as she left it. The light blue walls were littered with her old posters. Her bed still had a few old stuffed animals on it. Her desk was covered with post it notes, she used for keeping track of her important things.

Had she grown more than she had realized in the last five years? Was it selfish to assume that you wouldn't have?

“Something’s bothering you.”

Wanda startles at the sound of your voice. You stand in her doorway.

“Nothing, Y/n.”

You don't believe her.

You close the door behind you and fully step into her room. “You were quiet the entire dinner.”

“I was thinking,” she replied shortly.

“About what?”

She takes a seat on her bed and exhales, “A lot has changed since I’ve been away.”

You take a seat next to her, “You were gone for awhile.”

Her eyes meet yours, “I didn’t want to be. I didn't want to miss everything.”

She began to tear up. You hadn’t seen Wanda like this before. Wanda never let anyone see her be vulnerable. Her head rests on your shoulder, and she grabs one of your hands, seeking some comfort.

“Wanda it’s alright,” you try but she cuts you off.

“It’s not, I missed your graduation,” she began to sob.

You begin to internally panic, but you have enough sense to know that this is about more than your graduation. Your arms wrap around her, pulling her closer to you. She ends up straddling your lap. Her forehead lays against yours. You do your best to wipe her tears away.

“Forgive me, Y/n. Forgive me,” her cries grow louder.

Hesitantly you grab her face in your hands. Through the tears she sees the look of worry on your face. Wanda starts wiping at the tears with her sleeves.

You stop her, “There’s nothing that you missed that I can’t tell you about now. No one blames you for missing anything. I don’t blame you. I’m just happy you’re back.”

Wanda stops crying. She sniffles a bit with a sad smile on her face, “I remember that night when you came to the door.”

Your breath hitches. Her thumb follows the path on your check where the glass had cut you.

“You were so-”

“Helpless,” you finish.

Wanda shakes her head, “You are so strong. Anyone else wouldn’t have made it to the door. I was going to say you were so pure. The world was so cruel even though you were nothing but a light.”

“Wanda-”

“Now, I’m hearing from everyone how you’re not like that anymore, that you’ve changed. I hate having to find out about you because I should know. My wife knows about how many people you’ve killed, and I didn’t even know you had fired a gun. I hate that it feels like I don’t know you anymore.”

You were taken aback by her words. Even with her being away for 5 years, you felt like she knew you better than anyone; even Pietro. Wanda had such a deep understanding of your inner workings that it scared you a lot of the time.

It took little effort to interlock your fingers with hers. You wait for her to look at you and when she does you speak, “You know me better than anyone ever has.”

“I used to,” she tries to drop your hands.

You don’t let her, “I can’t say that I haven’t changed at all, but I’m still me Wanda. I still watch reality tv as a guilty pleasure, I still eat my cheese puffs with a fork, and I still get a little antsy in the dark.”

She laughs a bit, and the sound brings a smile to your lips. Your nerves ease as she seems to relax.

“You’re still my little krolik then?”

You blush a little but move her off your lap. You stand and hold out your hand. She doesn’t grab it, instead turning her back towards you.

You roll your eyes, “I’ll always be your little krolik. Now can we go back downstairs.”

Wanda hesitates, “Would you tell me what you told Natasha?”

“About my first kill?”

She nods lightly, “If it’s alright with you.”

You nod and sit at the desk chair across from the bed. It’s not much easier telling Wanda than it was telling Natasha. If anything, it was harder knowing how the woman had reacted in the past when you had been hurt.

“I should’ve known about this,” she’s seething, as she speaks.

“You had just lef-”

“I don’t care if the plane was mid fucking flight! I would’ve turned that bitch around!”

Before you could try to de-escalate the situation Pietro came into the room. “Is everything alright in here, you’ve been up here for a long time?”

Wanda jumps out of the bed and grabs the man by his collar. She nearly lifts him in the air, then beats on his chest. She’s moved him from the room to the hallway., You’re too stunned to intervene.

“WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME? NO ONE THOUGHT TO CALL ME? SOME JERK FELT HER UP AND SHE SNAPPED HIS FUCKING NECK AND NO ONE THOUGHT TO CALL ME?”

Pietro remains calm, his hands rest on top of hers “Wanda it was nearly 5 years ago.”

“So why is this the first time I'm hearing of it?” The drop in her voice snaps you out of your trance.

“Wanda put him down,” Dragos voice booms in the hallway.

She let Pietro go and instead redirects her glare to her father, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I knew you'd react like this. You’ve always been able to handle your emotions unless Y/n was involved,” his words only seem to anger her more.

“I’m the one that can't handle my emotions when it comes to Y/n? Are we sure about that? Because if you want to play ball I will swing for the fucking fences,” she combats quickly.

You watch as the color drains from Pietro’s face and even Dragos seems to stand down a bit.

“Wanda.” Natasha’s voice is strong as she speaks, “Let’s go, ok? I think everyone just needs a little space right now.”

Wanda doesn't seem like she’s done with the conversation.

“Y/n, sweetheart I think they're staying in your building. Why don't you take them there,” Flora suggests.

You nod, unable to speak at the moment. You can see Wanda about to argue again so you slip your hand in hers. You don’t waste time pulling her towards the stairs. Natasha holds her other hand, clearing some of the tension from her system.

You get in the drivers seat while Natasha sits in the back with Wanda. Your brain was slightly clouded as her words sat with you. Wanda knew something that made Pietro and Dragos cower in regard to you. You wanted to press on, but you knew she was in no shape to answer.

Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, you could see that Natasha was whispering to her, trying to calm her. You’d never known Wanda to have a temper, but apparently, when it came to you her rage seemed unrelenting.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat

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toasttt11 · 25 days

Text

sun burns

prompt- Rubbing aloe on a sunburn.

She shook her head from where she was spread out on the boat lying next to Ellen as they watched the boys mess around on the boat and in the water.

She had told Jack many times through out the day to put sunscreen on knowing how easily Jack sunburns and he will complain for a long time about his sunburn, she tried to prevent that by telling him to put sunscreen on but Jack did not listen.

She could see from across the boat how his shoulders, ears and the tip of his nose already turning pink.

“That boy never listens.” Ellen shook her head noticing Jack is turning pink as well, Ellen saw how many times Jack’s lovely girlfriend tried to get Jack to put sunscreen on but he did not.

“Oh i know.” She laughed agreeing with Ellen knowing how much Jack hates listening.

Luke yawned feeling extremely tired from how many times he was on the wakeboard the past few hours and walked over to his mom and hopefully his future sister, he plopped on the seat next to her and rested his head on her shoulder.

“At least one of them listen.” She laughed telling Ellen, Luke had listened and out sunscreen on and now is obviously just tanned and not at all sunburned. Quinn half listened but didn’t put any on his face and now his cheeks and nose were turning pink.

“Barley.” Ellen laughed looking at her son and future daughter in law fondly watching as Luke began falling asleep on her.

She smiled back at Ellen before shifting her head and resting her head on top of Luke closing her eyes feeling extremely tired from being out in the sun.

Jack and Quinn finally finished messing around on the water and both got back on the boat grabbing their towels.

Quinn plopped down next to his mom smiling seeing the two passed out next to each other, “They’ve been sleeing for awhile?” Quinn asked curiously wondering where Luke had gone. Ellen nodded to Quinn’s question.

Jack smiled slightly seeing his girlfriend sleeping so cutely with Luke but then frowned wishing he could nap with her.

Jack leaned down smoothing her hair from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead before sitting down next to her letting Quinn drive them back to the lake house.

Jack gently lifted up his girlfriend once Quinn docked the boat, he carried her up to the house and to their room, he set her down on their bed letting her continue sleeping as he headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

She yawned waking up rubbing her eyes and realized she was in their bed and knew Jack carried her to bed after she had feel asleep on the boat.

She narrowed her eyes hearing wincing coming from the bathroom and immediately knew what was happening.

“Oh Jacky baby.” She frowned in concern as she saw how sun burned Jack really had gotten from their day on the lake.

“Let me go get aloe.” She pressed a very gentle kiss to his warm cheek and walked out of their room and headed to the kitchen grabbing the bottle of aloe from the fridge.

Ellen saw her grabbing the bottle and shook her head not suprised Jack needed it.

She headed back up the stairs to their room seeing Jack sitting on their bed in just a pair of boxers.

She sat on the bed next to him and poured some aloe on her hand and very gently started rubbing it on his shoulders making him sigh in some relief.

“I’ll listen to you next time.” Jack promised as she rubbed aloe my most of his body. Jack can be stubborn but he has learned that his girlfriend is always right and just has his best interest.

“You won’t.” She smiled softly knowing Jack will always be stubborn but that’s just who he is and she loves him for it.

“Probably not,” Jack chuckled admitting it, “But you are always right.” Jack looked at her softly.

She smiled softly pressing a kiss to his burn nose.

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samandcolbyownme · 6 days

Note

jake and girlfriend reader where they’ve been together for awhile now and he gets a tattoo of her bite mark?

Bite Me | Jake Webber

Warnings: biting, mentions of needles and other things related to tattooing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 619

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“You never told me what tattoo you were getting, J.”

Jake glances back at you from the tattoo chair, “It’s a surprise.” You roll your eyes with a laugh, “Oh, I see. Alright.”

You walk up to stand next to him, watching as the artist finishes setting up his station.

Jake rests his arm on the arm rest, laying his head back as the cap of his shoulder gets prepped. You go to sit back down, but Jake reaches out, “Don’t go far, babe, you’ll be needed in a second.”

“Needed?” You question, walking back over, “For what?”

The artist lays a piece of clear wrap on Jake and gives him a thumbs up.

Jake looks up at you, “Bite me.”

“Bite you?” You laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting your bite mark tattooed on me.”

Your jaw drops slightly, “Are you serious?”

Jake nods his head, “I am.” He smiles, laughing, “Now come on! Do it!”

“You’re going to want to bite kind of hard, enough to get the marks to stay so I can map them out, ya know?” The artist says as you walk around, and you nod, “Okay.”

You take a deep breath, pulling your hair back as you bend down, “Like right.. here?” You point and Jake nods, “Yeah, that’s perfect, babe.”

You smirk, shaking your head before you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the plastic wrap on his skin.

Jake watches, taking a deep breath as you stand back up straight, “Good?”

His eyes move from you to his shoulder and he nods, “Fuck yeah.”

You walk back over to the other side, pulling up the chair and sitting next to Jake, “I see why you kept this from me.”

He laughs slightly, “I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Jake. I have your initials you drew, tattooed under my boob, why would I say no to this?” You laugh, “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“Yeah?” Jake smirks and glances over as the needle runs over your teeth marks, “I can agree, probably my favorite tattoo ever.”

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, giving him a smirk. He sighs, tilting his head, “Am I?”

You slide your hand to his and squeeze, “No, I know you’re not.” You smile and lean over to see, “It actually looks really sick.” You nod, “I think that might be my new favorite one, too.”

The tattoo didn’t take long at all. Once he was finished, Jake walks over and checks it out in the mirror, “Sick as hell.” He pulls his phone up to take a picture of it, “Okay, now y/n, come here.”

You walk over and he spins around, holding his phone up to take a selfie of you, his tattoo, and him.

“Thank you so much, dude.” Jake gives the artists a fist bump and he nods, “Anytime, Webber. You know you’re my favorite client.”

“See, now he’s just saying that.” Jake laughs, “Nah, I’ll be back for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Jake’s tattoo and you tilt your head, “What if.. I got one of yours?” You look up at Jake’s face as he spins around, “Huh?”

“Yeah, like, on my hip or something?”

You can tell the wheels in Jake’s brain were turning as he tried his best to keep himself.. calm, “Now that.. would be hot.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you so much! Catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #Jake Webber #Jake Webber blurb #Jake Webber snippet #snippet #snippets #Jake Webber x reader #Jake Webber x you #Jake Webber fluff #Jake Webber tattoos #jake webber x reader fluff #jake webber fanfic #Jake Webber one shot #Jake Webber one shots #fluff Jake Webber

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oddlykilledghosts · 2 years

Text

Someone That Actually Likes Me - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Working at Family Video and constantly being a witness to Steve’s neverending flirting, reminds you of how much you want to be liked by someone and like them back. It just so happens, at the same time, Dustin is up for some meddling between two of his elder friends.

I may or may not be thinking of making a part two?? depending on how this goes?? who knows?? no it should have a part two

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairings: Eddie Munson x reader, FamilyVideo!reader

The day was starting to become boring. There didn’t really need to be three workers at Hawkin’s local Family Video (even on a Saturday), but you had come into work anyway and pulled yourself together enough for the first couple hours. You tried looking your best, fixing your hair and putting on some fun makeup, as well as applying some electric blue eyeliner and smiling at yourself in your mirror when you topped it off with bubblegum pink lip gloss. You might not have been the preppiest person, but you sure loved the colorful makeup the 80s had brought on the masses. Hopefully it was at least enough for your flirting to be successful in getting customers to rent more movies. Unfortunately however, one of the only customers that the store had had all morning was Dustin, looking for another copy of Neverending Story (something about his girlfriend, Suzie, that you didn’t bother asking about further) and he had not even bothered to ask about your day (something about a pressing D&D campaign that was happening that very night). The other, a girl Steve was chatting up about what you were pretty sure was Pretty in Pink, even though you had never so much heard him mention ever even seeing that movie before. You rolled your eyes at the sight of the two; Steve, leaning up against the wall his body tilted toward the girl, and the girl not even the slightest bit self-conscious in the way she placed her hand on Steve’s bicep and laughed at something you were sure wasn’t that funny.

You felt a shoulder brush yours, and suddenly Robin was at your side seemingly done with rewinding the old tapes. “You’re sulking.” She said plainly, but even without looking you could tell she had a smug smile on her face. You and Robin had become fast friends. Faster, because you both loved to make fun of Steve.

Sighing, you shrugged and said, “Maybe. Is it so wrong?” When Robin didn’t respond you resorted to turning your body away from the couple so that you could look at your friend and you found her giving you a disappointed look. Yet the smug smile hadn’t vanished. “What’s so bad about wanting someone to like me enough to pretend to like Pretty in Pink?” You definitely were sulking. Steve flirted with almost every girl that came into the store, it couldn’t possibly be that deep. But again, no one had quite been desperate enough to be an expert on a movie they’ve never seen for you. It had been awhile since you had felt seen by someone worthwhile. Flirting with customers felt hollow, however much it may have helped your job.

Robin laughed and headed towards the computer to report the intake of tapes she had just finished with, typing fast on the keyboard. “I think it’s wrong when you’re longing for someone to pick you up with a Steve Harrington move.” She paused, feigning thought and continued, “But maybe it isn’t wrong. Maybe it’s just sad.”

“That hurts Robin.” You pointed to your heart and faked a pout, “Right here.”

Steve and the girl, who you assumed was now going to rent Pretty in Pink as it was held in her perfectly manicured hands, were now making their way over to the register. This meant you and Robin had to make busy and not totally fail at watching the couple out of the corner of your eyes. The girl couldn’t stop giggling. You almost scowled, but held back your facial features. It wasn’t embarrassing for her, you couldn’t care less whether she giggled for the rest of her life just because of this small encounter with Steve, but it still felt maddening to listen to someone else be so happy when you just felt bleh. Finally, before leaving the girl wrote down her number on Steve’s hand. Which would only be unfortunate for the boy if he found another girl to flirt with later in the day. The good thing for him was that you were close to closing and he could go home, wash his hand and be able to start anew the next day. Woefully, you would be there to watch.

You watched painfully out of the corner of your eye as Steve skillfully aced what boring small talk came out of the girl’s mouth as he checked out her rental. Gag. When the girl finally left, Steve’s demeanor changed and he was back to his regular self. Still handsome and charming, just putting on less of a show.

Robin beat you to speaking first by saying quickly, in a hushed chuckle, “Y/N wants you to flirt with her.”

Steve’s gaze immediately fell onto you, cocking his head in what was obvious confusion. And yet a smile tugged at his lips, “Is that so?”

The heat in your cheeks burned furiously and while you knew Robin was joking, you felt the undeniable urge to duck your head under the counter and stay there until everyone left. “No. That is not what I said. I merely want to be flirted with. By someone,” You shoved past Steve and picked up a pile of tapes that needed to be reshelved, “That actually likes me.” This time you really did duck behind the shelves, putting back the tapes where they belonged, thankful for the cover and blissful in not seeing Steve’s reaction to what you had said.

Steve’s voice followed you into the racks of movies, “Who says I don’t like you?” You hadn’t realized he was now standing at the end of the aisle you were in and bumped into his chest on your way to exit, dropping the remainder of the tapes that had been in your arms. Sometimes, you wished you had Steve’s effortlessness he used while flirting. You would definitely run into people a lot less.

The two of you then simultaneously leaned down and began to pick up the movies when the bell to the door rang.

A new customer.

“Hello?” A new voice rang out. “Anybody here?” Apparently, Robin had been quick to hide in the back of the store and pretend to be busy while you and Steve worked with the small amount of foot traffic that made its way into the store. She often did this when she decided she deserved a break, and for all it was worth, she dealt with you and Steve almost every day so you’d say it was pretty well-earned. Footsteps sounded on the linoleum floors. “Helloooo?” This time the voice held onto the word in a singsong tune until it petered out softly into the store. The guy's voice sounded playful and amused as if this (aka a Family Video in Hawkins, Indiana) was all such fun.

Still busy with the tapes, Steve didn’t react to the newcomer and instead whispered a soft, “I got this.” to you before shooing you away in hopes that you would be able to deal with the customer. If the stranger to the store had been a murderer, you would’ve had to fend for yourself. Well, of course you had Robin but it was obvious you would die first in such close proximity. But clearly, when you stood up and found the long mess of wavy hair staring at you from the top of the shelf you were behind, that was not the case. He was smiling satisfyingly and his brown eyes gleamed from behind the rack of tapes when you popped up from the floor.

“Hello.” He said pleasantly.

As you walked out from behind the stack, the customer followed. And when you finally reached the other end closer to the register and the door, it gave you both the chance to view each other fully. Your eyes went immediately to his shirt, and it triggered some sense of deja vu that settled in the atmosphere. The devil logo sneered playfully back at you as you stared at the guy’s chest. Unlike your unwavering gaze on his torso, his eyes, unbeknownst to you, hadn’t left your face. “You must be Y/N. Didn’t think you could be prettier up close.” When you looked back up, he gave you a smile that reminded you of the Cheshire Cat. Playful, but somehow devious. A new feeling shook through your body, ending up in your cheeks which were now charmingly warm.

Your hands went instinctively to your face, where the new warmth was homed, in an act of sudden shyness and you smiled softly, “And you must be…?” Then you knew where the shirt had popped up in your memories. Of course. Dustin wore one just like it constantly. You looked further in your mind as Lucas and Mike also popped up in your head wearing it on certain school days. Days that always came with some obligation on their end. Then it struck you. D&D. Which meant that this was…

“Eddie.” He said with another overconfident smile. He didn’t hold his hand out to shake or anything, but was pleased when you kept your own grin. Of course you remembered him from school, even though his hair was a lot shorter in your recollections. He was your age too, although he still hadn’t graduated (unlike you and Steve who had done so the year before). Truly, you should have recognized him sooner. It wasn’t like Dustin constantly talked about him as if he were some mythical creature to be worshiped. That was totally not the case.

“Right,” You said sincerely as you shook your head and led him to the large counter in the center of the room. As if by magnets, your eyes kept trailing to his leather jacket. Had you ever noticed how attractive leather jackets were before? You’re sure you had, just not in such close observation. Quietly you chuckled to yourself as you continued, “I should’ve known too. The shirt says it all. Dustin’s a part of your campaign, right?”

Eddie’s performance of a smile shifted into more of a genuine beam as you got another thing right. The first was your unwavering smile, people’s expressions usually didn’t hold steady with him. Yet because he was still a little surprised you knew what a campaign was, he didn’t answer your question. People usually skipped over the D&D terms and just called it a club as it said so on the shirt, but it was nicer when people paid attention to the details. Especially about something most people in Hawkins considered so nerdy. Something people would usually turn their heads at when they found out it was led by a freak like him. You were trying, though it was obvious you didn’t know much on the subject. And that itself was different.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you as Steve, at long last, popped up, seemingly having finished picking up the remainder of the fallen tapes. He made a load of noise as he struggled to get up and his sneakers squeaked awkwardly on the floor. Then, as if to further his inopportune entrance, the boy looked suspiciously between the two of you, trying to send you a secret look that asked if you wanted him to take over as Eddie’s guide to Family Video. You didn’t miss the message Steve was trying ‘ever so subtly’ to send you, but you ignored it. Dustin’s opinion mattered some, and you wanted to learn a bit why he looked up to the boy in front of you so much. Eddie was definitely different from most of the crowd you rolled with (though you could see Robin losing her mind over a nice leather jacket) and in this case, different was refreshing.

Taking things into his own hands, Steve walked over to your side of the register and leaned against the counter slyly. You noticed, amusingly, a piece of hair had fallen in front of his eyes and he was trying not to jump up and fix it. “Did you need any help finding anything?” His head was directed at Eddie, but his eyes stayed on you.

“And here I thought, Y/N was being ever so helpful.” Eddie mocked Steve, an innocent look on his face. You thought back to high school…they didn’t have anything against each other, did they? Sure, there was that rivalry that Steve had fully concocted on his own because he was jealous that Dustin had another older boy to look up to. But other than that it seemed as if the boys had barely interacted. Then again, not everyone had gotten over “King Steve” as easily as you and Robin had. No one had seen just how nerdy and awkward (and sure, you could say endearing) as Steve Harrington really was on his off days of being a former high school douchebag.

“Well,” You said as you flattened the creases in your work pants. “I was about to be.” This time you turned your head to Steve who was now a breath away, “I don’t think that Eddie will want your expertise on Pretty In Pink anyway, Harrington. I’m sure Robin needs help in the back.”

Steve squinted at you while you saw Eddie hold back a small laugh. He, at least, thought your comment was amusing. “I don’t think-” And there were those brown, puppy dog eyes. Save them for the next girl, Harrington, you thought to yourself.

“No, I’m very sure that Robin needed help. It’s a mess back there.” You pushed Steve back out from the counter and towards the back room where Robin was most definitely not busy. “It’s one customer Steve, take your break.” With him sulking, you had to push him all the way into the back of the store, where you did happen to catch a glimpse of Robin watching Teen Wolf (just as Micheal J. Fox turned hairy) on one of the old TVs they kept back there.

When you got back to the register, Eddie had made himself a little more at home. He was leaning against the counter, albeit the opposite side from you, and was playing with some of the rings on his fingers. You tried not to stare at his hands and the intricacies of his jewelry, wondering quietly where he got them all. And yet he had not made a move towards any of the movies in the store. The best thing about Family Video was the browsing, in your opinion. Sure, you had limited choices. It was only one store. But being able to actually have the options in your hand, and sift through favorites and classics was one of the reasons you liked working there. It was a tangible way to like films. And still, Eddie had not moved from the spot you had left him. Usually, no matter how helpful you seemed to think you could be, the minute you stepped away customers went with their bad selves in the store. Most of them thought they knew more than you. Which was rarely true.

Eddie almost looked uninterested, and a little nervous. But it was such a stark contradiction to how you had just perceived him that you questioned your own perceptions of things and moved on.

“So,” You started looking at Eddie and placing your hands on the counter in front of you. “What are you looking for?”

“War Games.” Then, after a beat, “The one with the computer. Want to play a game?” He said in a robotic cadence, copying Joshua’s voice. You ignored the fact that in the actual movie, it says ‘shall we play a game?’.

“Yup, I know the one.” You mused. Truly, you had seen most of the movies the store offered. Keith, the manager, made it practically part of the job. ”With Matthew Broderick, right?” You motioned for the boy to follow as you began making your way to the section of the store that you knew the tape would be in. “I really enjoyed that one. Sure, it’s fiction, but it shows just how far technology can go.” You weren’t sure why you were rambling, but Eddie just followed nonchalantly behind you, his hands stuck in his pockets as if he were a little kid with sticky fingers.

When you reached the section you grabbed the tape and turned back around to be met inches away from the D&D player’s face, almost knocking heads. He backed away first, suddenly shy. Then when he spoke, he backed away another step as if one wasn’t enough. You didn’t notice, however, that as he talked his body subconsciously tilted towards you. If you had noticed, it would’ve reminded you a lot of how Steve and the girl from earlier looked. “It’s actually for Dustin, I owed him a favor.” Then with a more sarcastic spirit, “As if I don’t have things to do. Said he meant to get it and the only other time he could come back was during our session so…”

“As the leader, don’t you have minions for that? And isn’t Dustin one of them?” You laughed lightly, still waiting for Eddie to take the tape from your hands.

“Yeah but Dustin’s-” He didn’t mention how much he liked it that you knew, at least in some capacity, that he was the dungeon master.

“Special.” You finished, nodding with the secret knowledge you, and only a select few had of Dustin Henderson. “Yeah, I know. But wasn’t Dustin already here today? He could’ve picked it up then.” The tape remained in your hands as you talked, with no movement from Eddie indicating that he was going to take it any time soon.

Eddie’s dark eyebrows knit together, harboring a soft annoyance there, although it didn’t spread to the rest of his face. Then like a light turning on, so slowly, “I think Dustin is trying to set me up.”

You smiled, especially since you knew Dustin would scheme to do just that. He meddles too much. “In what way?”

Eddie’s voice was low this time, all of his former confidence gone, scrubbing the surface of a softer interior, “With…you.” If it had been winter, you could’ve sworn that you would’ve been able to see one clear breath exit your lips at his words; as if all the air in your lungs had decided to vacate at once. Yes, it made sense to you that Dustin would try to set up his friends. But it didn’t make sense why Eddie came to that singular conclusion so quickly. And yet, you’d heard so much of Eddie over the past two weeks. Had you really tuned out Dustin that much? That the constant compliments weren’t just brags? That they could’ve been for your benefit. They surely weren’t for Steve’s.

Then, as if in an instant, it all turned back on and Eddie straightened his back, “Well, this has been nice. But I actually have some unsavory activities to get to and I’m sure-”

Without thinking, you grabbed his arm stopping him from leaving the aisle of movies you were in. He protested for a second, stopping in his tracks, but turned back to you easily. Still guarded from the prying eyes of your coworkers as you stayed behind the stacks, you questioned the brunette, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

Eddie studied your eyes for hints of deception and insincerity, thinking that there must be at least some trace there for the simple fact that you hadn’t fun away yet. “Dustin, he’s a troublemaker. And here I am. In the making of his trouble.” Hints of Eddie’s mask were being put back up, and it looked as if he wanted to run out of the store.

“No,” You shook your head. “Go back. Why would Dustin set us up?”

“Right. Because ‘we’ wouldn’t make sense.” There was that wall again, still playful but defensive.

You felt your eyebrows knit, “No. It just-” This time you were the one searching his eyes. Again, there were your memories flooding back up. Just as clear as day you had graduated last year and there was Eddie, floating around in your mind. In his band. Late nights passing each other after respective basketball games and D&D sessions. In the cafeteria. And in every single one, you found those deep brown eyes staring back at you through your own mind. The reason Dustin was talking Eddie up was because Eddie liked you. And in those memories, no one else paid him any mind. But you had.

Had Eddie Munson talked about you to Dustin?

“Ask me out.” You said finally, letting go of his arm that you hadn’t realized you had still been holding. It had probably kept him from running initially, so no harm done.

Eddie laughed, suddenly taken aback, “What?” Then realizing you were serious, “I don’t think it counts if you tell me to do it.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

He thought for a moment, pretending to be vexed. “You realize if I ask you, we’re doing what Dustin wants.”

“Mm-hmm.” you hummed as a small response.

Eddie straightened again, this time with truer confidence, “Will you, Y/N…” He leaned forward, bowing a bit in front of you for show, which made you laugh, “Go out with me?” Then he perked up and placed his hands on his chest as if to protect himself from impending doom.

“Would you still want the movie if I said, yes? I have a quota.” You joked as you wagged the film in the air with your hand.

Eddie squinted at you, and yet a small smile tugged at his mouth and he staggered backwards. He struggled out the words as he held his chest where his heart would be, “I’m sensing that you’re saying yes.” Then he recovered slowly, his hands beating up and down where his chest would be and added, “My heart just grew three sizes.”

“Oh did it?” You smiled through a loud laugh as you put the tape back on the shelf. “I think you’ll still need a receipt though.”

Before Eddie could protest, you quickly walked back over to the register, leaned over the counter to grab a post-it and wrote your number speedily on the small piece of paper. Then, again, when you turned around to walk back you bumped into Eddie this time steading yourself by holding onto his arms. You had been walking faster than usual, with an excited energy around you, but was glad when you were able to touch him. Because yes, Y/N, he’s really there. Instead of feeling self-conscious, you stuck the post-it to the front of his shirt playfully. “There. Transaction done.” At the same time, you decided to ignore the two spying heads peeking out from the back room.

Eddie peeled it off his shirt gingerly and looked at it with a cocky grin, “You’re one of the good ones, Y/N.”

“Like it or not, so are you Eddie. At least,” You smirked at him. “From what I’ve heard.”

And then he and his leather jacket were gone. Not without him looking back at you as he left, for good measure.

You reminded yourself to hit Dustin over the head and thank him.

It took no longer than five seconds after the Munson boy had left for Robin and Steve to emerge from their hiding place. Usually, they wouldn’t have provided you any privacy during your interaction so you had to at least be somewhat thankful (even if you didn’t say it aloud). You sighed, turning around to face them, “What’d you hear?”

Robin, of course, exploded with energy the minute you invited her to talk, “Um, everything?” She immediately slid into the counter, leaning towards you and talking excitedly about how she wanted to help you get ready, even though she wasn’t sure she shared the same fashion sense as you. Really, she wasn’t sure she wanted to help with the fashion at all, but just wanted to be there before the date. Before you could remind her that technically there was no set date yet, she started prattling on about how you needed to prepare. Maybe Dustin could lend you a D&D book. She was sure she had at least one Metallica cassette somewhere. You were switching into a different social circle after all, you needed to know these things. You could tell Steve had filled her in on Eddie while they had been hiding together, though you knew she had been there on occasions as well when Dustin couldn’t shut up about him. This continued for a while, even after you assured her that you don’t need to change your whole personality to go out with Eddie. If you were lame and preppy then so be it. And then, to get his attention because the both of you had practically forgotten he was there, “Steve…?”

Steve, who had gone back to reshelving some of the videos that had been misplaced by Dustin earlier in the day and didn’t seem as interested in quelling Robin’s ramblings as he usually is, smiled sheepishly, “I think Y/N found someone to flirt with. Someone that actually likes her.” He just quoted you, back to you. Get your own lines, Harrington. And stop pretending to be a responsible worker.

“And he didn’t even need to pretend to like Pretty In Pink.” You said, raising your eyebrows smugly in Steve’s direction.

“Ha. Ha.”

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coconut-dreamz · 9 months

Text

king of my heart

"the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" || tom blyth x singer!reader

a/n: inspired by ts once again !!!

i'm perfectly fine, i live on my own i made up my mind, i'm better off bein' alone

you had spent the last few years being single and throwing yourself into your work. that was evident through the sheer amount of music you'd made in the last five years and the world tours you'd gone on.

after your messy break up a few years ago, you'd sworn off love and relationships lately. though, they did make great inspiration for music. but throwing yourself into your work for the past three years had consequences. you were feeling burnt out after your latest world tour and your manager had strongly urged you to take a break for awhile. not to mention you were in a rut. you hadn't wrote a single song in months. nothing inspired you, all of the songs you tried to write sounded wrong.

we met a few weeks ago now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes

rachel was a good friend of yours, you had met on at a red carpet once and became fast friends. she had recently finished up filming for a project and was in new york. she wanted to meet up with you and introduce you to her cast mates.

that's when you met tom. there was an instant attraction between you two, there was no doubt about it. everyone in the room could feel it. tom, luckily, also lived in new york. but he lived in brooklyn while you lived in manhattan. but he was constantly calling you, asking you to meet up or come over and hang out. nearly every day he was free he'd call you up.

salute to me, i'm your american queen and you move to me like i'm a motown beat and we rule the kingdom inside my room

you two were just hanging out in your bedroom, listening to your vinyl records. stand by me started playing, softly filling the room. "dance with me," tom stands, offering his hand to you. you just smile and agree, standing up. his arm snakes around your waist as your hand makes its way to his shoulder. you lay your head on his chest as you two sway to the music.

"this is nice," you whisper out as the song ends. "i like spending time with you. hours feel like minutes here," he responds as he spins you around, causing you to erupt in giggles at his antics. you continue to dance around the room until the sun sets behind you, lost in your own world with tom. when you were with him, everything else melted into the background. it was like the only thing in focus was tom.

'cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite where you do

you had reluctantly agreed to a date with someone one of your model friends had set you up with. he picked you up from your apartment in his flashy car, drawing attention to you two from everyone around you. you weren't quite used to all this attention, you had been a lot more private in recent years.

the date was absolutely terrible. he took you to some upscale restaurant that served expensive dishes that were only 1-2 bites each. as he drove you back to your place, all you could think of was how you wish you'd just stayed home and gotten take out with tom. you'd be a lot less hungry and a lot more happy if you'd done so.

after being dropped off, you texted gigi that you're never letting her set you up again. after texting her, you called tom. he picked up almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you. "that was the worst date ever!" you shout, once the call connects. all you hear is his melodic laugh in response. "i wish i would've just stayed home and gotten take out. i'm starving. the restaurant we went to didn't fill me at all!”

"how about i come over and pick up something up on the way there? we can watch a movie or two and you can tell me more about how much of a disaster it was." you smile at his suggestion. "that sounds great, i'll see you soon?" you answer, happily. "see you soon, love." he hangs up. you smile, couldn't wait.

and all at once, you are the one i have been waiting for king of my heart, body and soul

being with tom felt easy. you didn't realize it at first, but then all of a sudden he was embedded in every part of your life. being with him was as easy as breathing. it came naturally to the two of you. he had somehow snuck in and captured your heart.

"i love you," you whisper out as the two of you stare up at the stars. you'd decided to go on a camping trip upstate. you were laying on a blanket, cuddling. it just felt right with him. nothing was ever forced. it was simple.

tom sits up abruptly at your words, looking into your eyes "do you mean it?" he asks, unsure. "you're the king of my heart, body and soul." you state, staring back at him. a huge grin making its way onto his face. "i love you, i have for awhile. i was just too scared to say it first. i wasn't sure if you felt the same." he admits, a little shy.

"you are my everything. there's nothing i wouldn't do for you." you admit to him, leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on his lips. you feel him smile into the kiss as he deepens it, pushing you to lay on the blanket and crawling on top of you.

late in the night, the city's asleep your love is a secret i'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

"shhh, don't be so loud! it's like 3am." you whisper shout at tom as you two walk through london. it was a stunning city, even more so with him by your side. "i love this woman!!!! i'm so glad she's mine!!!" he shouts into the open air, spinning in circles and laughing. his silliness causes you to laugh at him, playfully slapping him on the chest, trying to get him to shut up.

tomorrow was the world premiere of the ballad of songbirds and snakes. you were so excited for him and the rest of the cast, but there was a selfish part of you that wanted to keep him to yourself. you didn't want him to become the internet's boyfriend or the 'white boy of the month'. you wanted to keep your love a secret from the world.

you wanted to shield the budding love from the cruelty of not only the world, but the tabloids. the press had ruined your previous relationships, breaking the trust you'd previously shared because of false rumors and speculations. you know tom wasn't like that, but you didn't want to be proved wrong. you just wanted to hold onto this secret for a little longer.

change my priorities the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

some people may have labeled you as materialistic in the past, your countless new shoes and outfits adding fuel to the fire. but, as of late, your priorities had changed. you no longer cared for material goods, the only thing you desired was tom. everything about tom, you wanted. his hugs, his kisses, and especially his love for you. his love would be worth more than anything money could buy you.

is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending

shortly after meeting tom, you were reinvigorated. he was your muse. he mended your heart and gave you inspiration to write once again. no longer were you writing sad songs about ended relationships, but songs confessing your love to him. by the time you had known him for six months, you'd already written enough songs for two 20 song albums and a few extra for deluxe editions.

the more time you spent with him, the more songs you were inspired to write because of him. your agent had wanted to kiss him on the mouth personally for the amount of songs he had inspired you to write after over a year of nothing. your fans would be thrilled to hear you'd be releasing new music after three years of nothing.

"what are you doing there, darling?" tom walks into your office as you play around on the piano and write down the notes you were playing. "just composing a new song. i was inspired during our date last night. i just finished writing the lyrics and now i'm trying to come up with the melody." you answer him, not looking up from the notebook. his eyes widen at your words. "you wrote the lyrics already?" he asks surprised.

you look up from you notebook at this "of course i did, you're my muse. i've completed two albums dedicated to you now." you answer him and continue playing, trying to find the right notes. "you what?" he asks, unaware of his influence on your creativity. you stop playing at this and stand up to face him. "from the moment i have met you, i have written and composed exactly 47 and a half songs. you are my muse, tom blyth. you occupy my mind at all times. i love you" you confess to him with a grin. "my god, i love you." he captures your lips in a searing kiss. he truly was the king of your heart.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you

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cuntdestroyer3000 · 13 days

Text

The hand that feeds

moodboard just for vibes, not a physical description of reader, dividers by @cg1rl

Godless pt 2: dark!outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It's your first morning at Joel's camp. You try to adapt to your new life and struggle with who to trust. However, you can't help but enjoy the way Joel provides for you, or the way he fucks you. Dual POVs, part one here, playlist

Word count: 8.4k

Warnings: dark, dead dove, dubcon, noncon (reader doesn't have any other choice), stockholm syndrome, reader is captive and considered to be Joel's property, unprotected piv sex, voyeurism, light somnophlia. HELLA SMUT, smut all around. dom/sub dynamics, praise/degradation kink, sir kink, no physical description of reader, No use of y/n.

A/N: I'm FINALLY DONE. I fr thought I'd never finish but I'm glad to finally get this posted. Thanks for being patient and pls use tags if u reblog <3

As dawn light filtered through the thin curtains on the windows, Joel stirred. Rising with the sun did, as always. There was a lot that needed to be done and he found that laying in bed for too long led to unwanted rumination. The dark thoughts he fought constantly began threatening his mind the minute he awoke.

This morning however, he let himself linger. It had been a very long time since he'd woken up feeling the warmth of a woman in his bed. You were cuddled into him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. He took in your peaceful expression, eventually letting his eyes fall to your bare breasts.

He pulled back to better see you, running a thumb over one of your nipples, watching it harden.

He cupped a breast and squeezed it gently. You shifted a little and he massaged you, his eyes falling over you hungrily. His hand moved, following the curve of your waist up and down. He played with you for a while; he stroked your side, ran his rough fingertips over your soft stomach, and snaked his hand around to squeeze your ass. He let his fingers drift down to your pussy and smirked when he felt how wet you were. He wondered what you'd dreamt about, if it had been about him. He played with your clit a little, making you moan softly in your sleep.

It took everything in his power not to lose control and ravage you right this moment. He'd really been keeping himself in check since he'd acquired you but the mere sight of you drove him crazy.

He had felt the same way when he'd seen you at the saloon, he'd tried to ignore it but he had already started talking himself into finding a way to take you back with him.

He figured you were used to being fucked often, but he was still holding back. You were just such an exciting new toy, there felt like endless possibilities for what he could do to you. But he didn't want to break you in all at once. He was a calculated man, always careful with how he handled you. But there was a yearning he constantly kept at bay. It had taken everything in him not to rip your clothes off the minute he saw you.

He savored you for as long as he could, before finally tearing himself away. You were hard to resist but there were things that needed his attention urgently.

He sat up in bed, rubbed a hand down his face and stretched, trying to ease the aching in his joints.

He pulled up his jeans but left them undone. Donning nothing else but his boots and jacket, he headed outside with his rifle.

The morning air was misty, a thick fog hung over the trees like a blanket. Joel imagined it would make one feel at peace. He wouldn’t know, he’s never felt at peace, well maybe once…a long time ago.

Some men were up and milling about. Two guys were sitting at the fire pit, smoking and taking periodic swigs from their flasks.

“Mornin’ Joel.” One of them greeted him and he nodded in return.

He surveyed the grounds once more and, deciding everything was normal, headed off in a direction he hadn't been in in awhile.

The crisp dawn air made his cheeks cold and he shivered slightly as his nipples hardened. He trekked through the chaparral terrain, looking for game.

He liked hunting, he never felt more in control than he did when he was out in the woods with his gun. Although being between your legs might start coming close.

Joel was able to catch some rabbits but he still wasn't satisfied. Besides, the sun had just started warming his skin. He decided he wouldn't leave until he caught something worthy of bringing back. He had a new mouth to feed after all.

After some time, he finally caught something, a buck. Impressing himself- though he'd never admit that to anyone.

He slung the beast over his broad shoulders, his jacket hanging from its antlers and the dead rabbits swinging from where they were tied to his hips.

It was later in the morning when you finally awoke. You opened your eyes blearily as light filled the cabin. Stretching out in Joel's bed, you couldn't help but feel comfortable under all the soft blankets. The cabin looked nice in the daylight and you could make out the dust particles in the rays of sun coming in.

You weren't sure how to feel. You were still upset about being taken away, but you were glad you were living in a house with a warm bed. Then there was the way Joel had fucked you last night. You couldn't help but shiver at the memory, him pummeling your cunt in a way you'd never experienced before.

You pulled on a thin slip and wrapped a shawl around your shoulders. You hesitantly made your way out the door, the sparse grass poking your bare feet.

Squinting in the bright sunlight, you saw Joel emerging from the tree line with a dead animal slung over his bare shoulders. You gasped softly at the display of strength and prowess as he walked past his cabin, making eye contact with you.

The sight of him rendered you breathless. A familiar aching bloomed between your legs as you took in his pumped up muscles, his bare torso slick with sweat and blood from the animal. He looked so wild, almost as if he himself was a predator of the unforgiving wilderness. The dark look in his eyes awakened something primal within you.

You shivered despite the warm air and pulled your shawl tighter around you. Your knees felt weak and you leaned against the doorframe for support. Picking up on his obvious effect on you, Joel gave you the faintest smirk and hoisted the dead buck up over his shoulders with ease, his hungry gaze lingering on you as he passed by.

You stared after him, watching his muscular back as he moved towards a nearby shed. You watched from afar as he dropped the heavy carcass behind him, rolling out his neck and shoulders.

His men were in jubilation at his catch but Joel remained stoic, providing merely a nod to the man thumping his shoulder.

As he turned around, his eyes fixed on you hungrily and he set off purposefully in your direction. You stumbled backwards from the doorframe, not expecting this reaction, worried you had somehow done something wrong.

He appeared in the doorway shortly after, startling you even though you knew he was coming. Blood streaked down his bare chest and stomach. Your gaze traveled down to his ample package, threatening to escape from his undone jeans. His eyes were wild and he was breathing heavily.

You were simultaneously terrified and aroused by him. You backed into the wall and looked around with uncertainty as he slowly made his way over to you with heavy footsteps. He got close to you, crowding your space, causing your nose to wrinkle at the smell of the blood still on him.

"Joel..." You mumbled.

"Look at me." he said softly.

You forced your eyes up to meet his. His gaze was dark and piercing, you weren't sure what he was going to do. You wanted him but the blood and stench of dead deer was disgusting you.

He reached out for your face with a bloody hand and you flinched back instinctively. Irritation flashed across his face and you felt a bolt of fear go through you. You'd actively disobeyed him.

He looked down at himself and scoffed,

"You afraid of a little blood?" He taunted you.

You shrugged and looked at the floor.

"You don't like it when I catch food for you?" He pressed, causing your stomach to turn over.

You quickly shook your head,

"N-no sir-"

He got closer, towering over you and crowding your space. You winced as you pressed yourself against the wall, struggling to breathe due to the odor.

You tried to even your breathing as you looked up at him, his dark eyes bored into you. It frightened you how you could never gauge what he was thinking. His expression was always hard and unreadable. He hadn’t explicitly done anything to you yet to make you fear him so, but the stories you’d heard about him while living in the brothel were enough to chill you to the bone.

After a few tense seconds he scoffed,

"Guess that whorehouse was awful fancy." He moved back towards the door, but you remained frozen.

"Get on the bed." He said flatly, "I'll be back."

While Joel cleaned up, you situated yourself on the bed, unsure of what position to be in. Your heart pounded as you anticipated his return.

You knew what he wanted, he had probably been out in the woods for hours. He was no doubt exhausted and craved a release. It was typical of the men you spent your time around. Tired and tense, craving control.

You couldn't help but crave Joel too. You couldn't get the way he had mounted you last night out of your head. The way that dark hunger had filled his eyes, thrilling and frightening you at the same time. You also thought about how wrong and fucked up it all was. He had taken you away from your home, and was keeping you as his own personal whore. The brothel wasn't much better, but at least there you’d had your friends.

You tried to calm yourself down by thinking about how he's been caring for you, providing for you. You remembered how he had made you feel last night. You'd laid with much worse than him, men who didn't know how to truly please a woman.

Joel did.

You're lost in your thoughts when you notice him standing in the doorway, his torso glistening from washing himself off. You look down coyly with your hands in your lap.

He slowly made his way over, his bulge at your eye level, his still unzipped jeans accentuating his rock hard cock. A wave of arousal rolled through you, your nipples hardening and pussy growing wet in anticipation of what he was going to do to you.

You slowly looked up to him, his stare intense and his soft brown hair unkempt. He held you gently by your chin with a rough hand as you gazed up at him submissively. With his other hand, he tugged on the strap of your dress.

"Take this off." His voice was low and gravelly, making your head spin.

You weren't sure why, but the command sent a thrill through you. To be fair, it wasn't like you had a choice anyway.

"Yes sir." You said quietly, trying to push down how eager you were to obey him. In truth, your core lit up with excitement as you lifted your dress over your head.

His hand cupped your cheek as you sat, completely bare for him, the illusion of sweetness made you melt and without thinking you leaned your head forward against his soft stomach.

Joel chuckled softly at the gesture, running a large hand over your head, holding you against him. He was surprised at how easy it all was, how easily you obeyed him. You'd seemed to have fallen into your role of a submissive whore quickly, and it was hard for him to tell if you were just playing the part or if you really wanted him. Your cunt felt good squeezing him either way though.

He quickly slid a hand into his pants, freeing his aching cock. You had your eyes closed so you didn't even realize what was happening until it bumped against your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him, knowing what he wanted. He stared down at you with anticipation, his eyes blown out with lust. His hand tightened around your hair, pulling you closer to him.

You couldn't help the fear that rose within you. Sure men had used your mouth before at the brothel, but Joel's cock was much bigger than any of theirs. You were worried about being able to take it all.

Joel clocked your hesitation and inhaled sharply, yanking your hair harder.

"The fuck are you waiting for?" He sneered.

His harshness shocked you, especially compared to the way he'd held you last night.

"I-" you started before you were interrupted by Joel shoving his cock into your open mouth, making you gag.

You choked on his thick length as he ruthlessly fucked your face.

You tried your best to breathe through your nose as you choked and drooled on his cock. You stared up at him through teary eyes. His muscles flexed as he thrust into your mouth, his beefy chest heaving.

His brow furrowed as he moaned, gasping and throwing his head back. You couldn't help but notice how beautiful he looked like this, both in control and a slave to his desires.

Your admiration of him was cut short as you gagged especially hard. The feeling sent a bolt through your pussy and you moaned around him.

"Ohhh yeah baby." Joel laughed as he watched you drool around him, spit dripping down onto your tits, "You like chokin' on this cock don't you."

Your moan turned into a gag as he grazed the back of your throat again. You'd become accustomed to having men use your mouth, you'd liked to think you developed some skill in the area. But Joel was not like the men in your town. He was longer, thicker, rougher. He held your head in place as he fucked your mouth, not seeming to care when you gagged especially loud.

You felt fear rise within you whenever your stomach turned over and it felt as though bile would rise in your throat. Whenever you would gag especially hard, Joel would ease you off of him, but only a little bit so that you could breathe before fucking into you again.

Unhinged and fueled with adrenaline from his hunt, he fucked you until he came. He was so pent up, all he could focus on was his impending release. Even when you started to make desperate noises and fought to pull your head off of him.

His grip on your hair only tightened as he forced you down, finally coming deep down your throat. You coughed and sputtered around him and gasped for air when he eventually let you go, his come dribbling messily down your chin where you'd failed to swallow it.

You panted as he sighed and released you, tucking himself back into his jeans but still leaving them open. You looked up to see that he hadn't shut the door, and several of his men were watching you. You weren't sure how long they had been there for and your face grew hot with embarrassment as you quickly looked down and wiped your mouth.

Joel huffed out a laugh,

"No use bein' all shy about it now, girl."

You didn't respond, still trying to clean up your face. He grabbed your chin roughly and made you look up at him.

"Answer me when I talk to you." He spat.

"I-I'm sorry." You scrambled to please him. Despite your past experience in the brothel, you still found yourself feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of his men.

Joel followed your gaze to the doorway and then looked back at you.

"Don't mind them sweetheart. They just like watching."

You nodded shakily.

"You're used to bein' watched' aren't you?" His voice dropped lower, the rasp of it making your pussy even wetter.

You hesitated for a moment too long and his hand reached down to grab your neck forcefully.

"I asked you a fucking question!" He shook you causing you whimper as his grip got tighter, your head starting to feel fuzzy.

"Yes sir!" You gasped.

He let go of you and stepped back with a smirk.

"Tell me what you like, baby." He murmured as his men began to trickle into the room.

You couldn't ignore the way your pussy bloomed with arousal. You could feel yourself slipping away into this role, it was already starting to feel natural. You hated the excitement you felt at the thought of being put on display by Joel. But then again, if you were going to be doing this no matter what, you might as well enjoy yourself. You told yourself that this was no different than the brothel, where you serviced multiple men a day and were often watched during it.

"I-" You bit your lip and let your eyes travel over his men's hungry stares before finally settling on Joel. You told him what he wanted to hear, but figured it wouldn't hurt to tell him what felt good for you as well.

"I like being watched." You mumbled, and after a pause you gained a little more confidence, "I like being watched when my cunt gets used." You said softly, locked in an intense stare with Joel.

You swore you could see his breath hitch, his gaze grew even hungrier, spurring you on.

"I like it when you give me orders." You continued, "I like it when...when you tell me I'm good." You finished the last sentence even softer. That one held the most truth, all you had ever really wanted was to be good.

Joel walked up and ran his hand over your head, cupping the side of your cheek in the way that made your heart flutter. He smiled down at you like he had when he'd given you his jacket at the campfire last night.

"You are good." He murmured.

He pushed you back uncharacteristically gently unlike he had the night before and you laid back, spreading your legs open compliantly for him. You couldn't deny how eager you were to give in to him, especially after the events of this morning. Watching him provide for you like that, catching such impressive game all by himself. He smirked as he viewed your cunt, glistening with the evidence of his effect on you.

He stepped aside and turned to his men.

"Prettiest little pussy in the whorehouse, n' it's all mine."

You throbbed sickeningly in response. You were trying to let go, you kept telling yourself that this was the same as the brothel. But you knew it wasn't. There was no Mr. Polk around here to make sure you didn't get too roughed up, or too humiliated. These were outlaws, they could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

"I love fucking her little whore pussy." One of the younger men piped up.

Joel turned to him,

"You loved fucking her little whore pussy, Beans. You ain't gettin' any more of it."

The man, apparently named Beans, frowned and a few of the other men grumbled, obviously disgruntled at the news that they didn't get to play with Joel's new toy.

He turned back to you,

"She's all mine." He nearly growled. You felt a twisted sort of relief flood through you. At least Joel was the only man who would be fucking you, and he did it so well. If you were his property, wouldn't he do anything to protect you?

You rapidly rationalized being on display like a piece of meat and watched with heavy lidded eyes as Joel reached forwards and slowly circled your clit with his thumb. You sighed and arched your back as he moved down to your opening, spreading your wetness all over. He applied more pressure onto your clit, watching you closely as you started to fall apart.

The pleasure dulled the constant grief that you had been feeling since you'd left home, at least it was a bit of a distraction. You let yourself get lost in it and writhed under the eyes of all his men. Moaning loudly, you gave them the show they were all so desperate for as Joel easily drew an orgasm from you.

You heard him laugh before he landed a spank to your pussy making you cry out and spread your legs even wider.

The men in the small cabin murmured in amazement. Your cheeks heated up as you realized how enthralled they all were with you, how you were the sole subject of their attention, and their desires.

You looked up at Joel, your chest heaving. He smirked down at you, seemingly satisfied with your performance.

"Good girl." He stroked the top of your head before sitting down, pulling you onto his lap and squeezing your ass in one of his massive hands.

"Get the fuck out." He barked at his men.

In the days that followed, you ate the venison Joel had caught and kept your head down.

You tried to learn what Joel liked and what he didn't, but it was hard. He didn't speak to you all that much besides when he gave you orders or fucked you. The initial shock had started to wear off, and it was starting to become clear to you that this was it, this was your life.

Whenever that particularly terrifying thought crossed your mind, you looked for ways to distract yourself, you usually just trailed after Joel wherever he went. He mostly liked to sit in silence by the fire, outside when it was warm. He'd whittle, drink, or just sit and stare into the flames. You couldn't guess what he was thinking about.

One night you came out to join him, sitting in front of his legs on the ground.

"What are you doin' out here?" He asked after a while, his eyes still boring into the campfire.

You shrugged,

"Just...wanted to keep you company."

He looked down at you, his face cold and tinged with what looked like a profound sadness, something that went so deep you weren't sure you could ever figure it out.

"I don't like being alone." You mumbled out, looking down at the grass.

He didn't respond, just stared back up at the fire.

Your heart sank and you laid your head on the inside of his thigh, strangely finding yourself wishing for a shred of affection from him.

He didn't move, didn't acknowledge you further but didn't make you leave either. You began spending nights like this with him often, where he'd sit and stare into the fire and you'd sit between his legs on the ground, your head on his thigh, gazing up at him.

It usually ended with him hauling you up into his lap, taking you into his cabin and fucking you.

It was only after he'd brutally pounded your cunt, his cum still leaking out of you, when he’d pull you into his arms and hold you fiercely. The rush you felt in those moments was indescribable, you hadn't felt so warm, so cared for, so held in such a long time.

You saw a different side of him when you both laid tangled in his blankets. When he stroked your back, running his fingertips over you lazily. It was as though he allowed a softer side of him to show through, just for a little bit.

You began to crave these intimate moments with him, the high from your multiple orgasms still washing over you. Feeling the closest thing you could to contentment. You began to enjoy night time a lot more overall. The main reason being that you didn't have to be conscious. You liked your rituals with Joel though, how safe you felt laying with him in those moments.

The rest of the time, he was hard and distant, making you want him even more. It drove you crazy, how you felt so connected with him yet he was still a total stranger to you.

He also couldn't keep his hands off of you. Whether it was simply a hand on the back of your neck or pulling you in front of him, cupping your pussy and grinding his hard cock into your ass no matter who was around, reminding you and everyone else exactly who you belonged to.

It was strange to you, how this man could simultaneously be so cold and distant but still hold you so close at night. You wished you could talk to him, you wished you could talk to anyone. The only people who could understand were miles away.

In the days that followed, you grew to feel more and more alone. You felt like you couldn't trust anyone here.

When you weren't being fucked, you tried to find ways to spend your time. You mostly read, wrote in your diary, or drew. You also explored the camp as much as you could, making sure you never ventured too far, lest he and his men think you were trying to run away.

Running away had crossed your mind, but you didn't even know where you would go. You had traveled for so long after Joel had bought you, the desert landscapes you had seen out there all looked the same.

Besides, you were sure you'd run into trouble out there. You had never traveled for long distances alone, you didn't know how to hunt, you could barely build a fire.

Not to mention what people could do to you out there, a pretty woman all alone. You were better off with Joel, whether you liked it or not.

One afternoon you decided to sit outside and read. You'd grabbed your Bible, only keeping it at this point because it reminded you of your father.

You were beginning to feel slightly comforted as you read, being brought back to sitting in church, Sundays that felt like a lifetime ago, before you heard a chuckle and an unfamiliar voice.

"Never thought I'd see a whore readin' a Bible."

You looked up from where you laid on the grass to see a handsome man, younger than Joel, looking down at you with a smirk on his face.

You had no idea how to respond to him, you sat up in the grass and looked around but there was only one other man milling about in the distance.

"I-I like reading it." You forced out, your voice small.

"You a good little Christian girl?" He teased and you felt your face grow hot. You looked up at him, his brown skin gleamed in the golden sunlight and his deep brown eyes looked kinder than most of the men at this camp. Still, he made you uneasy.

"I don't know." You shrugged and looked down, yanking at the dry grass, "It just...feels nice...readin' it."

He was quiet and you looked up out of the corner of your eye. He stepped closer so that you were at eye level with his covered cock, just a few inches away.

"You believe in God?"

You were quiet.

You looked up at him where he seemed to tower over you, his head cocked to the side and his hands in his pockets.

"I-I don't know." You mumbled.

He just nodded.

"Shit you been through, I ain't surprised."

"I-" You started and took a breath, realizing how meek you sounded.

"Sometimes I think He's there watching over me but...it’s gettin’ harder to think like that." You stared straight ahead into the tree line, wondering how close Joel was.

"No shit." He breathed out, "After all, what kinda god would let a nice little girl like you end up like this?"

The words hit you like a brick and your stomach churned with nausea because you knew it was true.

This man had no doubt seen you on display multiple times at the brothel, seen you debase yourself along with all the other girls there. Now, things have gotten even worse for you.

You couldn't find it in you to respond because you knew you would agree with him, and you couldn't bear to speak the words aloud. You stared at the ground as your fingers clenched at the grass, yanking the blades out in a nervous fidget you'd picked up a few days since coming here.

He crouched down and stroked your cheek with a finger, causing you to flinch away.

"Relax baby," He breathed, "I ain't gonna hurt you."

You tensed up but let him touch your cheek again, your eyes darting around nervously as if Joel would suddenly appear, full of rage at the sight of another man touching you.

"Hmm" He chuckled, "Shame I never got to try out your pretty little cunt before Joel took you all to himself."

You gasped softly.

"I'd take good care of you." He smirked and swept your hair out of your eyes, he leaned in closer, "I wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth off of you." He breathed, "Can't stop thinking about how juicy your cunt looked when he was showin' it off to all of us."

You shuddered as he ran a thumb over your cheekbone before turning your face to look at him. You stared at him, willing your expression to neutrality, trying not to let any of your emotions show.

You stared at each other for a while, the tension between you palpable. He huffed out a light laugh.

"Who knows," He murmured, "Maybe I'll get my chance someday." He pulled your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb. You stared him down, refusing to give him anything.

"Well, we got some supper on the fire." He said, suddenly casual as he stood up and began to walk away, "Joel's aimin' to be home by sunset." Then he stalked away, his walk smooth and alluring.

You didn't know what to make of the interaction, or of the way your pussy throbbed and wetness pooled between your legs.

Joel made it home as the golden light began to disappear and the sky deepened to a dark blue.

Your spine stiffened as you saw his silhouette breach the horizon. You had relaxed somewhat throughout the day, with Joel gone. He'd left at dawn, the bed cold by the time you woke up, and you found a part of yourself wishing he’d been around but also relishing his absence. He could be so terrifying and unpredictable and it had been nice to get time by yourself. Still, you had felt a strange yearning for him to return, yet now that he was here...you weren’t really sure how you felt.

Adrenaline flooded your system as he came closer and closer, dismounting his horse and bringing it into a small paddock a ways away. You got the sudden urge to run to him.

Your fear and hatred along with arousal and attachment towards him made you feel sick. You opted to sit on his bed, pretending to read one of your books.

Your heart pounded as you heard him walking up to the door. It slowly swings open, the creak of the hinges sending a bolt through you. Joel trudged in, his body heavy with tiredness. He leaned against the wall, sighing as he closed the door and toed off his boots; shedding his outer layers, he laid down his rifle.

You stared at each other a moment before he slowly made his way over to one of his chairs and flopped down.

You kept your eyes trained on him over the edge of the book and his dark gaze bored into you. Every muscle in your body was tensed and ready, you knew what was coming.

Joel jerked his head in a motion for you to come over and you stood up almost too quickly. He registered it with a small smirk on his face, making your core ache.

You approached him slowly, pulling your nightgown over your head and discarding it on the floor somewhere. You let your hips sway as you walked towards him, his eyes transfixed on your bare breasts and the curls that sat between your thighs. He licked his lips and you knew he was desperate to taste you.

"C'mere" His voice was deep, almost a growl.

He pulled you into his lap, having you straddle him in his chair. You expected him to pull his cock out and sink you down on it right away but instead he sighed and leaned back, letting his eyes run over you.

Your cheeks warmed and you forced yourself to keep eye contact, trying not to shrink under his searing gaze.

"Where-um, How was your day?" You stumble over your words, unsure of the right thing to say. You found yourself wanting to talk to him about anything. The only conversation you'd had with a person today had been the mysterious man who had approached you a few hours ago.

"Was alright." He muttered absentmindedly as he ran a hand over your head, letting his fingers trail down to your chest.

"Oh..."

You couldn't bear to let the conversion die before it even began so you tried again.

"What did yall do?"

He ran the tips of his fingers over your breasts, making you shiver. He looked up again, his eyes cold.

"It ain't right for a lady to hear."

You kind of liked it when he said things like that, made you feel like a respectable woman instead of the whore that he knew you were.

You couldn't help but huff out a laugh at the thought.

"I think I can handle it," You gave him a small smile that he did not return, "I've seen all sorts of things at the brothel."

Joel's expression grew harder,

"I ain't nothin like the sad pieces of shit that go to that place." He spat and you flinched.

"I-I'm sorry." You said quickly, you tried to duck your head down but Joel grabbed your chin roughly and made you look at him.

"I was out providing for you." He sneered, "You wanna hear about all the fucked up shit I've done? You wanna hear about my fuckin' day?"

His words shocked you and you squirmed in his hold,

"I-"

"If I tell you about all the people I killed today, is it gonna make your cunt wet?" He spoke, his voice deeper, huskier and you gasped.

"Today?" You couldn't stop yourself from recoiling as you looked at him in horror. He stared right back, his face a cold hard mask.

Your blood ran cold as he circled your breast with his finger, getting closer and closer to your nipple.

"What'd I tell you?" He scoffed, "Y'don't need to be hearin' about all that."

"I just...wanted to know..." You trailed off, unsure of what you had even been trying to do by starting this conversation.

"Well I don't wanna fuckin' talk about it." Joel rolled his eyes, "Look at how scared you're already gettin'."

"I'm not scared." Your tone betrayed you completely.

Joel huffed out a laugh, you weren't fooling him.

"It's okay darlin'" He purred in your ear, "I like it when you're scared."

His voice made you shiver with arousal.

"Makes your cunt get so tight." His voice took on an edge of desperation as he sunk two fingers into you.

You let out a sharp moan as you clenched around him, squeezing his forearm.

Joel just laughed softly, huskily.

"Yeah that's right. Ride my hand like the good little whore you are."

The way he spoke to you made you feel so dirty, it felt so wrong to find any semblance of enjoyment in this. But it was the fact that it was so wrong, so twisted, that filled you with a strange feral desire.

You tried to shove your conflicting thoughts away, focusing instead on how he was making you feel, how good he thought you were for him. You moaned as you rode his hand.

Joel suddenly pulled his fingers out of you making you whine at the loss of contact. He laughed at you, how desperate you must seem, how pathetic; a sad little whore he found and took home with him.

He stuck those same fingers in your mouth, making you jerk back at the bitter taste. Joel grunted and held the back of your head in place, keeping his fingers in your mouth.

"Clean 'em off for me." He commanded.

You tentatively closed your mouth around them and sucked, a spike of arousal shooting down to your pussy. No man had ever had you do this before, made you taste yourself.

"Yeah..." He whispered as you sucked on his fingers harder, whimpering.

He pulled them out and ran his wet fingers over one of your nipples, pinching and making you cry out.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this." His voice was still soft as he trailed his fingers down your stomach, "bout you..."

He rubbed painstakingly small circles on your clit, making you moan even louder.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about your soft little cunt, all wet and grippin' my fucking cock."

His words had you in a tailspin, the fact that he was this infatuated with you, all he could think about was your cunt. Not just any whore's cunt, yours.

You knew it was fucked up but some part of you reveled in how wanted you were by this man, how prized.

"I thought about you too." You confessed softly.

"Mmm did you?" Joel murmured and moved a lock of your hair away from your face.

"Yes" You whispered and hid your face in his neck, his large frame engulfing you as he reached around you and dragged a finger from the front of your pussy all the way up to your asshole.

You moaned and shivered, rolling your hips against him shamelessly. This wasn't like working at the brothel, where the men you serviced so often became a blur. You were lucky if the encounter was half pleasurable. Most of the time you would pretend you were enjoying it, it was all just a performance for you.

But this...this was real, raw. Joel made you feel weak, like you couldn't resist him.

"I know" He whispered in your ear as he began rubbing circles on your clit once more, "I know"

"Joel" you whined and pawed at his chest as your orgasm rose within you. In the soft light of the cabin, you let it all melt away, everything except this, this feeling.

You gasped as he moved his fingers faster, moaning into his neck as you came, your release coating his fingers and dripping down into his lap. You looked down in shock, then looked back up at him.

You just stared at him, you weren't sure what to say. That had never happened to you before. After a while Joel smirked and moved his fingers back up to your lips. You opened your mouth immediately and sucked on his fingers again, it made your sensitive cunt throb with arousal and you whimpered around him.

"Mmm fuck" Joel murmured, "You made a mess baby."

You froze with his fingers in your mouth. Was he mad? You hadn't meant to.

Joel seemed to sense the shift and withdrew his hand.

"I'm sorry..." You swallowed, your face burning.

Joel, to your surprise, laughed.

"You poor thing, they didn't take very good care of your little cunt down at that whorehouse did they?"

"No man there ever did what you do to me."

"And what's that?" He asked, his tone laced with arrogance and a hint of playfulness, it spurred you on.

"No man down there looked at me the way you do." You said softly, and you knew that it was true, from the moment you had locked eyes.

You ran a hand down his shirt, unbuttoning as you went. Your conflicting feelings about him earlier were far away in the back of your mind. Because he was right, none of the men back at the brothel had ever been capable enough to take care of you, not like him.

"No man there touched me the way you do." You continue, kissing up his jaw making him moan.

"No man there has ever made me orgasm like that." You let out a squeal right after as he spanks your ass.

"I know" He growled, his forehead pressed into yours, "I could see it in your eyes. Knew you needed a real fuckin' man."

You whimpered and nodded,

"Joel please..." Your hands clawed at his belt as his hands enveloped your breasts, you arched your back as he massaged them.

"You fucking want it don't you?" He panted, and you nodded feverishly, "You little fuckin' whore."

You moaned at his words and he spanked you again,

"Thought I told you to answer me when I talk to you."

"Fuck I want it." You moaned, "Please Joel, please I want your cock."

"Go 'head and take it then."

Your stomach fluttered and you reached for his belt buckle before you could talk yourself out of it. Because all you wanted in this moment was him inside of you.

You deftly pulled out his cock and sat up, letting him align himself with your cunt before he grabbed your hips and pulled you down. You cried out at the stretch, at how fucking good it felt to be full of him.

"Oh fuck" Joel sighed and leaned his head back in his chair, closing his eyes as he let out a slow deep breath. You felt his whole body relax, tension he'd been carrying with him throughout the whole day finally leaving him with every squeeze of your cunt.

You just sat there for a moment, watching his chest rise up and down and his eyes flutter. He slowly brought his head back up to face you. Sighing again as he began running his hands over your body, playing with you languidly.

This was something you had begun to learn about Joel; when he could, he liked to take his time with you. It was almost tantalizing.

He ran his fingertips ever so lightly up your sides, making you shiver and clench his cock. He groaned and gripped your side as he leaned in and kissed you bruisingly, licking into your mouth and claiming you all over again. You moaned against him as he held the back of your head.

You let him take you, consume you, carve a space for himself deep inside of you. This was nothing like anything you'd had back at the brothel.

Joel broke the kiss and leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently as he held your breast in place. The sensation sent an electric current through you and you gasped, your hips beginning to grind on him of their own volition. He moaned against you and wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you even closer. His tongue swirled around your nipple as he sucked and bit you, driving you over the edge.

You began grinding your hips on him faster, chasing your high with a deft precision that came with being a whore. Joel pulled his mouth off of you, gasping and moaning. His eyes wide and face contorted in pleasure.

You rarely saw him like this, saw his carefully placed mask slip and got a peek at the feral, crazed man underneath.

Your cunt spasmed around his cock as your pleasure built within you. You chased it desperately, the day had been so dull and empty; suddenly you needed this.

“Mmmm Joel” you whine, your voice getting more and more high pitched as you grabbed at his hair and leaned forward, using your hold on him to drive his cock deeper into you.

“Fuck wait-“ Joel’s gruff voice in your ear was cut off as he moaned depravedly. He struggled to keep quiet, his hold on your hips tightening.

He was coming undone, unraveling at the intense and feverish pace of your hips, snapping forward over and over again, riding him like you would a horse.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours desperately, his eyes locked on the way your tits bounced as you rode him.

Your moans got more and more high pitched as you neared closer and you dug your fingernails into his shoulders as you chased your high.

Joel tried to move you off of him but you were so close. Without thinking you pushed him back in his seat with all your strength and ground on his cock, letting it move and massage that special place inside of you.

Your pussy spasmed around him as you soaked him, shuddering and moaning. The pleasure felt unreal and you moaned and panted, letting your head fall onto his chest as your hips slowed; feeling like you’d been sent to another world.

Suddenly you felt Joel’s hands on you, pulling you off of him in a vice grip and throwing you down onto the bed.

“Who the fuck told you that you were in charge?” He seethed, his face flushed, hair wild and cock rock hard, glistening with your cum where it jutted out of his jeans.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes fall down to it.

Joel scoffed and got down on the bed. He got between your legs and pulled you by your knees so that his hardness bumped your cunt.

“I’m sorry,” you moaned as his tip brushed against your clit, “you just felt so good.” It was a weak apology and Joel knew it.

He shoved his cock into you, hard. He set a brutal pace immediately, snapping his hips against you over and over. You cried out at how sensitive you were.

“You wanna use me to get your little cunt all satisfied?”

“No…” you managed to gasp out as you clutched onto the bedding for dear life.

“That ain’t how it’s gon’ work around here sweetheart.” He spat, “You don’t get to fucking disobey me.” His voice rose as he fucked you even harder than before. His cock was hitting so deep inside you it began to hurt.

“I won't, I wont I promise!” You cried out.

Joel growled as he wrapped a huge hand around your throat,

“Just gotta put you in your place don’t I?” He rasped and drove his cock inside of you.

His hold on your throat caused your head to spin and your pussy to throb. Thankfully the pain you had felt earlier was beginning to turn into pleasure and you could feel another orgasm rising within you.

You were too sensitive though, every stroke of his cock was too much. You whined as you hurtled towards the edge, not even feeling like you were ready to fall off of it.

Your release hit you like a train and you screamed and shuddered as you clung to him, crying out his name over and over again as if it were a prayer.

You panted as you came down but Joel didn’t let up the pace. You sucked in a breath and tried to move off of him but he held you in place.

“I ain’t done yet sweetheart.”

“Joel please I-I can’t…”

“Can’t imagine a whores cunt could ever get tired.” He smirked and you knew he was punishing you for how you’d used his cock earlier.

“None of them were like you.” You choked out, “None of them had your cock.”

Joel moaned and seemed to lose himself in the rhythm. You continued to tell him what you knew he wanted to hear.

“I-I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist you…your cock Joel…it-“ you whined as he hit deep inside.

“What?” He panted, his eyes crazed and his hips rhythm getting uneven, he was close.

“It’s perfect.” You breathe and realize that you’re not lying, at all.

Joel lets out a string of moans as he comes deep inside of you. You sigh as the warmth fills you, soothing your abused pussy.

Your cunt flutters around him as he lies on top of you, catching his breath for a moment before he gets up, pulling out of you.

He clears his throat as he steps away and you reach out for him, only to have him ignore you.

“Joel?” You ask tentatively as he sits back down in the chair.

“Spread your legs.” He commands.

Your stomach flares with arousal and you feel your puffy and used cunt throb all over again.

You slowly spread your legs for him, showing him what he’s done to you. The cold air felt somewhat soothing on your swollen cunt and you moaned softly as you clenched around nothing.

You feel his cum leaking out of your hole slowly. Joel watches it, his eyes transfixed on your cunt.

“Good girl.” He murmurs

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the mess between your thighs. The way your pussy would sometimes clench and spasm, forcing more of his spend out. He wondered if you even knew you were doing that.

He began loading up his pipe with tobacco when you shifted.

“Keep ‘em open.” He grumbled and settled back, sparking up. He breathed deep, letting the smoke fill his lungs.

“Sorry.” You propped a pillow between your back and the wall, making sure to keep your legs spread for him.

“Yeah…” he breathed, “should be used to it, keepin’ your legs spread all the time.”

He watched as your eyes widened and how you sucked in a breath. Your cunt spasmed and he smirked. It was a great idea to have you spread open like this for him; he could see exactly how his words affected you, because he knew they did.

“Men at the brothel never wanted to just look at me like this.” You cut through the silence, your voice soft and breathy in a way that made him want to fuck you all over again.

Joel’s eyes flitted up from your cunt up to your face.

Your expression was a mix of apprehension and wild desire.

“None of them ever really looked at me.”

He smiled, you were coming along so well.

“I like seein’ what’s mine. Seein’ you like this...” He took another puff, “Can’t hide nothin’ from me when you’re like this sweetheart.”

Your eyes darted around and you tensed, your cunt clenching around nothing.

You still didn’t close your legs. Joel couldn’t help but laugh softly, you were coming along very well indeed.

@pedge-page just remembered that u asked to be tagged in pt 2 lol thanks for the support❤️

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