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muntitled · 5 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

Summary: Visiting home brings up old feelings for the boy next door…

Myung Jaehyun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Boy Next Door AU, Non-idol!AU, Language, Mutual pining, Hyperfeminine!Reader, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), dry humping, slight ddlg themes, praise kink, dom/sub themes, Dom!Jaehyun, Needy!Jaehyun, Hyperfeminine!reader, Premature Orgasm, Loser!Jaehyun, Needy sex

The lack of actual boy next door fanfic for Boynextdoor is harrowing...

You did not hate your childhood. In fact, you would venture to say that you should look quite fondly of most of it because most of it had taken place here- in a picturesque wasteland of suburbia, and as you drive through the narrow main road, staring at glimpses of childhood relics, you begin to frown. Every memory was so unequivocally perfect except, maybe, for the ones containing him.

"Can you at least try to sound like you're not going kill yourself while you’re there?" Your best friend's voice drones on from the car speaker. Her words, no matter how valid, elicit an eye roll from you, effectively stopping your journey down memory lane. "It would be awful to have to drive down to your childhood home just because you tried to kill yourself, I refuse to have that be the way you introduce your college best friend to your mother."

"Relax," you affirm in a voice groggy from underuse. Spending an entire 15 hour drive beguiled to your car without any company except for maybe of course your Destiny's Child album and a swelling sea of dread in the pit of your stomach.

This would be the first time in a year that you were visiting your childhood home since you left for college. The first time anyone who mapped the outline of your childhood, would perceive you as the budding, blossoming, depressive adult you have become. You felt like a storm coming back into your picturesque childhood neighbourhood, threatening to sweep everything away. That feeling of dread only doubles when your driveway appears on the bottom of a hill. The cul-de-sac of your childhood with all its trimmed hedges, neat fencing and constantly perfect shudders, sends you hurtling into nostalgia and once again, common ordinary dread.

"What If I just turn the car around right now, would that be bad?"

"I have never met a college student so unhappy to be home-" Your best friend mumbles, "You're going to be living the dream!? Actual balanced meals!? Please take one for the team,"

Almost immediately, her words trigger a rumble of hunger from your stomach and you groan as your car curls into the cul-de-sac. Your heart is hammering in your ear, not for the reasons anyone might think, but because of those memories locked in your childhood. As you drive, you try to keep your eye on your house. Your perfect homely house.

Your eye doesn't even stray to the house beside it!

Honest to God!

Not even once.

"Is there a reason you don't wanna go home so bad?"

"The weather is so bad," you say almost automatically, "I think the line's about to cut,"

"Bitch, you only avoid my line of questioning like this when it's about some dick-"

"Jeez, the weather’s messing with the connection."

"If you drop this call TRUST you will be dealt w-"

"I'll call when I unpack, love you-" when you drop the call, your car is parked in the driveway and your shoulders are slumped over. You contemplate waiting around in the driveway until some relative forcibly pulls you out but that thought is quickly made obsolete when you hear a harsh knocking on the door. Your stress levels gravitate to an all time high as you watch him, waving frantically at you from the other side of the glass. His smile is bright and just as crooked as ever. His wave is frantic and energetic; Jaehyun is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, so unequivocally happy to reunite with his childhood best friend.

His only friend. The return of that voice in your head is one of things you had been anticipating on this trip. Mainly because your childhood had been riddled with so much self esteem issues, your feelings practically metamorphosed into that voice you now hear now. That's all you'll ever be to him. All you've ever been, Your mind remarks in a distasteful spit of venom.

"Get your face off of my windows unless cleaning my car for the foreseeable future is a job you're actually interested in." You say coolly as you slide out of the vehicle. Jaehyun gives space for you to stretch, all while shuffling from one foot to the next, picking at the sleeves of his flannel with a dopey smile like he was one second away from proudly telling you he 'frew up at school'.

"Still as homicidal as ever." He says your name with a familiarity that nearly knocks you unconscious. You focus on lifting your arms to the air, and ironing out tje various aches in your back.

"How long has your ass been waiting here anyway?" It's Jaehyun's turn to nearly evade eye contact at your question. He finds it exceedingly difficult to follow along with what you're saying when you so very clearly have boobs now.

"Since my mom told me you'll be back,” He says before immediately adding, “hey- how long have those been there?" You drop your arms with furrowed brows as you look at him.

"What?"

You await a response that doesn't arrive. Jaehyun only points nonchalantly towards your chest. You look down at your v-neck and back at Jaehyun. "I don't know what you're talking about," you roll your eyes as you shuffle past him.

"YOU HAVE BOOBS NOW?!” He exclaims, “EW-"

You turn around to face him, pushing your acrylic nail into his sternum, "I've always had tits- sh-shut up-"

"You literally finished high school without them. I would have noticed as the tiddy connoisseur, trust me."

You find yourself embarrassed, not by his avid teasing (this is something you've been forced to deal with every single day of your childhood and adolescence,) but you find your stomach warming for completely different reasons. Your Jaehyun-obsessed brain wants to pick apart and dissect his entire statement. Maybe he's finally noticing you now? Maybe this age-old crush will evaporate and metamorphose into something else.

You cannot speak because your nail is still digging intently at his sternum and he's staring down at you, as if waiting for whatever venom laced comeback you had waiting for him.

All you're able to focus on however, is the way in which you're staring intently at each other. For him, this proximity is probably nothing, but for you... "Also when you get in there, please for, the love of God, act surprised."

The spell is immediately broken and you're once again brought back down to earth.

The cul-de-sac.

The driveway.

The afternoon sun, surrounded by a cooling breeze.

"Please don't tell me I'm about to walk into another family dinner," your eyes grew heavy with fatigue at just the mere thought of all your family dinners before. 'Family' being used very loosely because he always somehow found himself in every single one.

"You know how our moms can get," you did. You really did.

"Ugh," you exclaim, trudging up the house steps, "1 hour of this and I'm done." Your hand pauses before the doorknob and you turn to Jaehyun with a bored, almost questioning stare. "Aren't you gonna get my things?"

His grins a wolfish grin before clutching at the t-shirt under his flannel, "Oh how I've missed being bossed around by you-"

"Fuck you-" You chuckle out. Jaehyun only turns his torso sloppily as he continues walking to your car.

"A guy could hope!"

And just like that, that smile is gone. The moment is sour. Because whatever he meant, you knew from childhood experience that it did not mean what you wanted it to.

Meeting everyone all at once had been as jarring as you expected it to be. You ceremoniously heeded Jaehyun's advice, acting so completely shocked when your relatives and Jaehyun's family yelled 'Surprise' in unison. Everyone was sporting smiles that crinkled their eyes and arms open for hugs. Before you were made privy to every line of questioning surrounding school, Jaehyun's mom swept you into her arms.

"How's is my daughter in law-" there was no time for her to watch you grow tense at her words because Jaehyun who was lugging your luggage in, calmly affirmed, "She has tits now, apparently-"

"MYUNG JAEHYUN-"

The evening had progressed with all the domesticity that you lacked during college and you found yourself at immense ease throughout dinner. Home is still home. Jaehyun is still Jaehyun. Everything that once was, still is and you took a second after dinner to ruminate in the feelings of comfort seeping into your entire being.

That is until your mother ruined it by inserting a very unnecessary, wholly uncalled for fact during dessert drudgery.

"Any boys on campus?"

"It's campus," you snorted as you stuffed your face with malva pudding, "of course there are boys," Throughout the course of your dinner, Jaehyun, who is dutifully seated directly beside you, has taken to swinging his leg against yours. A provocation from childhood that you almost immediately latch onto until you are both playing a violent game of footsies under the table.

"No boys to smooch on campus," Jaehyun speaks up, petulantly puckering his lips at you. All you're able to do is try and ignore him which proves to be a dangerous feat.

"I should think there's a new boy." Your mom says before pointing at you and Jaehyun with the flick of her utensils, "The primary school crush you two had on each other has gone on for way too-"

"MOM!?"

Your mother's slip of the tongue instantly grabs all of Jaehyun's attention. He's perking up in his seat like a rottweiler at attention with his head snapped in your direction.

"Crush?" His eyes falter, scanning the side of your face as if he was perceiving you anew. All traces of a smile are gone as he dumbly asks "What crush?"

"I've been driving for an insane amount of hours," you begin by pushing yourself out of your dining chair, "I should unpack and get to bed-"

"W-Wait I can help." You glare daggers at Jaehyun, that look alone should be enough to stop him from rising from his seat.

"Don't be rude. Your best friend hasn't seen you in ages" your mother scolds, lightly prompting your hands to curl at your sides, "We'll take care of the dishes."

Your ascension up the stairs had been charged with tension and filled with something else entirely. You walk ahead of Jaehyun as if trying to distract yourself from his presence, but everything about him is so completely there, "I can feel you staring at my ass," you mumble, needing to fill the air with something, anything at all as you reach the upstairs landing. "Guilty," he says as he follows you into your childhood room which is much the same.

Jaehyun beelines for your twin bed, almost immediately flinging himself on the childish quilted bedspread. "This place is still the same..."

"So are you actually going to be useful, because if not," you fold your arms as you stare him down, "You can leave?"

His mouth hangs open in a lopsided grin as he reaches around to grab at the very first plushie he finds. One of many.

"You still sleep with these?" He asks instead, as if your question meant nothing at all. He plays idly with the stuffed dinosaur in his hands as he leans his head back against the pillows. Seeing him here, amongst your things, brought an avalanche of nostalgia and a wave of hopelessness. He is still so attractive, even after all these years.

You sigh, "Jaehyun if you're not gonna-"

"So was that true?" There it is. The shotgun question that had been hanging like damp washing between the two of you. With your nerves shot to hell, you decide to lower your behind on the very edge of the twin bed as you busy your hands with folding your clothes. Your back is turned to him but you can feel those piercing, smiling eyes watching you.

"Is what true?"

"C'mon, don't do that,'' there is a noise of shuffling behind you. Your heart hammers in its cage with the dip in the bed sheets and you can feel him seated directly behind you. You look down at your lap to find that he's placed your plushie there, as if to distract you from the fact that his legs were now framing yours, his front pressed against your back.

"You know what," he whispers straight into your ear, sounding as serious as you've ever heard him.

Craning your neck backwards to let your eyes fall on Jaehyun would prove to be a cataclysmic mistake. It only heightens the wobble in your voice as you say, "The crush I had on you was juvenile and childish and frankly didn't mean any-"

"Dude..." he whispers, eyes seemingly boring into every single square inch of your face, "I've dreamt about being your boyfriend since I fucking found out what a boyfriend is." His words knock the breath cleanly out of your lungs and your voice grows quiet as he lifts his hand to the side of your face. "What..."

"Yeah!"

His voice is loud and boisterous but you're still somehow locked tightly in your stupor.

"Nu uh," you mumble, your eyes daringly drifting across his lips, "You're lying?"

"How am I lying, angel?" you suck in a deep breath because his thumb is rubbing dizzying circles against your cheek now and his voice has descended a gravelly octave. He dips his head down, experimentally placing a feathlight kiss on the corner of your bottom lip. So innocent, but charged with so many expletives, the possibilities rush straight to your clit.

Still, you soldier on.

"B-Because remember what you said at our grade 6 dance?"

He's not listening. He's not listening because he's finally got a taste of you and he'd be damned if he didnt get more. Jaehyun cranes your neck until you're facing forward once more and you gasp when his lips descend on the skin between your neck and shoulder. "Enlighten me," he mumbles against your skin, placing more featherlight kisses there before he quickly grows bored and decides to stick out his tongue experimentally. You turn into molten clay in his hands and the whimper that escapes you is borderline pornagraphic. This is the stuff all Jaehyun's previous fantasies are made of.

"W-When you asked me out- you said..." your voice drifts off because Jaehyun can't help but let his right hand reach around until he squeezes your torso impossibly closer. All the pudge, all the skin, all the ways he's been dreaming about having you this close and you were there for the taking this whole time.

"Fuck, I'm obsessed with you…" He says, and he does a very odd thing. He buries his face in your neck and just sniffs. This momentary slip of weakness allows you to regain some of your senses as you say,

"Y-You asked me to be your date," Jaehyun is drunk on the very scent of you now and his cock throbs as he brings you impossibly closer against his lap,

"What else did I say, baby," he wants you to carry on talking. Anything that might distract you from wanting him to leave. Anything that might keep you here just a little longer. His cock throbs at that thought alone and it has him rubbing against your skin like a dog in heat.

"Y-You said you didn't have anyone else to go with-" you suck in a deep breath through your air as Jaehyun's hand venture underneath your shirt. He slithers his hand up in a hurry until his cool fingertips are grazing the flesh of your breasts. Like a crazed adolescent driven by his hormones alone, he pulls your bra down, all while tonguing and licking at your neck like his life depended on it.

"S'sorry," he mumbles incoherently behind you, and his hand on the side of your face cranes your head backwards so that you're facing him once more, "So'so'sorry," he places a sloppy, apologetic kiss on your mouth which immediately triggers a very deep desire that is almost as old as you are.

"I wanted you so bad-" you admit with a gasp, and Jaehyun feels your confession shoot straight down his spine. He plasters his front into your backside, pressing his hips against your ass in an apparent wave of lust.

"I've always needed you," he ventures to admit, pressing his bulge against your backside as if needing to persuade you further.

Those words of affirmation are all you need , all you've needed for a lifetime and you immediately turn until you're lumbering onto him before letting your knees frame his hips. His hands instinctively grip onto, your supple, full hips and the feeling of your softness on top of him alone is enough to have him groaning into the air as his hips stutter up at you.

While you crash your lips against his once more you lift yourself away but his hips follow, "The fuck are you doing!?" He mumbles against your lips before biting lightly at your bottom lip.

"Too heavy," you mumble, "I don't wanna be too hea-"

Your words dissolve in your throat and in its place, a yelp escapes as Jaehyun forcibly pulls you down onto his sweatpants-clad lap. "You did this to me," he says, watching you intently as if scolding you, "You did this to me and now you wanna run away?" He scoffs as his hands begins to guide your hips against his. You're both in very flimsy material. Him in his sweatpants and you in similar attire except your sweatpants were a dusky pink. "Youre so pretty grinding on me like that fuck-" he speaks quickly and fluidly as he leans backward onto your bed, making more space to watch you grind yourself on top of him.

His attention is utterly intoxicating and so you do nothing but listen when he says, "Take your top off, baby-"

You peel the item of clothing off, unclipping your bra with all the speed and sloppiness that came with your lust-filled fog/ Jaehyun doesn't help. He's all too focused on guiding your hips against his, watching you face contort into pleasure.

"Pants," he says, needing to see more of your open-mouthed moans, "Take your pants off," he whispers, "Make a mess on me," he swallows thickly, "Please,"

You lift yourself to momentarily push your sweatpants, Jaehyun lifts himself momentarily to grab at your stuffed animal.

"Whatre you-" When you straddle him again, you're completely naked while he's fully clothed. The juxtaposition only elicits another wave of lust. "Hold this while you ride me," he stuffs your plushie against your chest, watching your mouth hang open as you lower your clit onto his bulge,

"O-Oh my fuck, Jaehyun-"

"Just like that, angel, fuck,' he throws his head back momentsrily stumped by the weight of his pleasure. He's trying to be dominant for you. He's trying to keep his control for you, but you're moving your hips against his, with his bulge between your legs, using him for absolute filth. It ruins him entirely.

His voice cracks when he lifts his head to look up at you and say, "Oh my god, you feel so fucking good, oh my god," When Jaehyun curses, your cunt only presses down harder against him, prompting a needier response out of you.

Jaehyun swallows thickly, "Use me, baby," he says, "F-Fuck, just fucking use me," his hips stutter upwards and his hands on your sides grip you so tightly you know it'll leave marks. "Doing s-so well for me. Youre doing so fucking well-"

He watches with an open mouth at your tits, so pillowy and full, bouncing as you rub yourself against him and he completely loses it.

"Fuck- p-please cum, I need to cum so bad-" Jaehyun gasps, wracking another torrid moan out of you as you descend almost immediately into your orgasm. Jaehyun watches with an open mouth and half lidded eyes, unable to stop himself from fucking up into you. He wraps his arm against your waist and buries his face in your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair and he shivers

"No way you just made me cum in my pants," he is so incredibly overcome with embarrassment, he dreads having to look up at you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"No, Jaehyun, its-"

"I mean about not being honest sooner. That was bad of me, he mumbles into your chest and you chuckle at his petulance, "I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted for making me wait so long..."

#boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor smut #jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #myung jaehyun #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun smut

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cherienymphe · 10 months

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Basic Training XVII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

You stared into the darkness of the basement for what felt like too long.

It was quiet down there, but not the kind of quiet that felt comforting. It was the kind of silence that felt suffocating—taunting. It was so loud in its taunting, snickering at you and your idiocy and naivety. Even as you laid on the floor, feeling like the lowest of jokes, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that brought you here.

Nat was your friend. Or at least, you liked to consider her one, and even faced with the threat of the worst punishment Steve could muster, you just couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything differently. You couldn’t imagine yourself waking Peter up that night and telling him you saw the redhead escaping, effectively alerting the other husbands to her presence, leading to her subsequent capture. It just wasn’t in you, and clearly none of these men—not even Peter—knew you at all if they thought it was.

The first time you tried to move, you couldn’t, and for a brief moment, you thought that Steve had injured you in his delight to toss you down the stairs like a sack of flour instead of a person. However, you quickly came to realize that wasn’t the case. You could move your fingers and toes fine, even twitch your leg, but you just couldn’t find the strength to move. You felt beyond defeated, and when you blinked, you weren’t shocked to feel a sting behind your eyes.

There was the most awful aching feeling in your chest, both heavy and hollow even though you didn’t know how that was possible. You wanted to cry and scream, but you also never wanted to utter another word ever again. You wanted to let out everything you felt since the moment you came here, but in the same breath, you desperately wanted to feel numb. If you didn’t feel a thing, then you couldn’t get hurt, and you hurt so much, right now.

Peter killed Michelle.

He didn’t help kill her, but he did kill her, and in the grand scheme of things, maybe that shouldn’t make a difference. After all, you’d still been under the impression that he did nothing while his brothers did. You’d still been under the belief that he allowed it to happen at best and helped it happen and cover it up at worst. So, why did Peter pulling the trigger make all the difference in the world to you?

Was it because you thought you were falling in love with him?

That thought had you squeezing your eyes shut, so tight that it hurt, and it was hard to hold back your sob. Your nails scraped against the hard floor as you shook, struggling to breathe as your stomach turned. Once you started it was so hard to stop, and it wasn’t long before the sound of your choked cries were filling the basement. It was a thought you’d considered before, but that was when he wasn’t a murderer.

That was when he hadn’t murdered your best friend.

How could you possibly rationalize it now? Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t your fault. Deep down you knew that there were names and studies dedicated to people in your position and the psychology behind it, but that didn’t make you feel any better. Peter had murdered your friend in cold blood…

…and you thought you loved him.

The thought made you want to be sick, and with horror, you could actually feel your stomach turning. You hurried to sit up, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as you struggled to keep it down. The bathroom only some feet away was locked—wouldn’t be unlocked until someone came down to open it and let you in—and you didn’t think you could handle sitting in a room with your vomit just stewing in the corner.

Struggling to get to your feet, you pressed your other hand to your stomach, trying to settle it. Keeping your mouth closed, you breathed through your nose, lashes fluttering, and after some time, you slowly stumbled towards where you knew the bed to be. You didn’t care about turning on the light, finding no need, and when you sat down, your head drooped in defeat.

There was really no telling how long they’d keep you in here until they figured out what to do with you, and while you knew that Peter would try his damndest to get them to go easy on you, you also knew that they wouldn’t consider a word that left his mouth. You—and also Peter by extension—had proven Steve and the others right, and you found it unlikely they’d ever listen to another suggestion from Peter about you ever again. Or at the very least, not for a long time.

Besides, Peter wasn’t the aggrieved party.

Bucky was, and such a thought made you shudder. You’d done well to avoid attracting Bucky’s ire even though he reminded you of Steve in some ways. Although, unlike Steve, Bucky didn’t seem the type to look for any and every excuse to punish you as he’d prefer in a contrast to Peter’s methods. Bucky seemed—if nothing else—fair to you, and that’s what scared you the most.

Bucky now felt wronged by you.

So, there was really no telling what was in store for you.

You recalled the way he’d reached for you, desperately trying to get past Peter in his efforts to get his hands on you. You didn’t want to imagine what he would’ve done had he succeeded, and you swallowed as your mind went rampant with the possibilities. Your hand came up to graze the tear in your sleeve, wincing at the slight sting you felt when your finger came in contact with the skin. Some part of you knew that had Bucky succeeded, he just might have killed you in his rage, and where you once would’ve welcomed such a thought…

It only made your heart ache, now.

You didn’t want to die, and when you thought about why, your stomach only twisted into knots once again. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you keeled over, throat tight as you tried to swallow down another sob. Your chest hurt so much, feeling like someone had an iron grip on your heart and was just squeezing and twisting it to their content. When you gasped, a cry escaped with it, and the only other time you could recall feeling like this was the day you realized your friends were dead and you were all alone.

You cried until your throat felt raw, and you didn’t fight your body as it started to collapse to the floor, sliding off of the bed in a heap. Covering your face with your hands, your lightly dragged your nails down your skin, frame shaking as you rocked back and forth. Your stomach wouldn’t stop hurting, and you couldn’t stop shaking. In fear or anger or despair—you didn’t know.

You did know that this was all Peter’s fault. He was the one who decided he had to have you, as if you were some thing to be acquired instead of a human being with a life and feelings and autonomy. If it weren’t for him, your friends would still be alive, and you wouldn’t even be here. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be feeling ripped apart by how you felt about the man who kidnapped and raped you. All of this was Peter’s fault…and even still…more than anything…

All you wanted was for him to hold you.

It was hard to say how long you stayed in the basement. The darkness and silence was endless, and it felt like months, but in reality, it was probably mere days. You did know that it was long enough for your stomach to ache from more than just fear and for your nightgown to stink from more than just sweat. You didn’t think you were capable of feeling embarrassed about that anymore. After all, Peter never made you feel like it was something to be embarrassed about, but that was before you heard the sound of the locks on the basement door.

Despite your shame, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Until the light from the top of the stairs outlined a familiar silhouette.

You merely stared at him as he stood on the first step, yours on him and his eyes on you. You couldn’t hear any noise coming from the main part of the house, and you said nothing when he closed the door behind him. Peter wasn’t good. You knew that since the beginning when he told you that everything he did was so that he could have you, making it all okay. Peter had never been good.

So, why did looking at him now hurt so much more than it ever had?

As soon as Peter was close enough, the first thing he did was take your face into his hands. You couldn’t really feel them, realizing that you got your wish to feel numb, and that just made your chest ache more. Just days ago you were desperate to feel the comfort of Peter’s touch, and now you couldn’t feel it, at all.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, face a mere inch away from yours.

When you didn’t say anything back, you noticed the way his face fell, lips pressed together as he eyed you. His gaze lingered on yours for the longest, thumbs just grazing your skin, and you watched the way his tongue darted out to swipe between his lips.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

His words had you blinking, and it was only then did you notice the fresh dress resting on the crook of his arm. You didn’t ask him what day it was because it didn’t matter. You only knew what would be happening today, and it’s why the dress on Peter’s arm was so pretty. It was why you’d been locked in the basement for days. It was why Peter looked at you the way he did as he helped you stand.

“I’m so sorry,” were the words he murmured into your hair as soon as he leaned you against him.

What was he apologizing for exactly? For killing Michelle or lying to you about it? For taking you and ruining your life in the first place? Or for failing to protect you from the wrath of the other husbands? Maybe he was apologizing for what was to come, and that made you shut your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he brought your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

You didn’t respond—didn’t know how to—only allowing him to guide you into the bathroom after unlocking it. You couldn’t really say how you got naked, only feeling as if you blinked before finding yourself sitting in a tub of hot water with Peter raining water down over your head. He was talking to you, saying something that went in one ear and out of the other. All you could focus on was that dress on the toilet, wondering what they planned to make you do while wearing it.

When you felt the weight of Peter’s gaze, it was only then did you take note of the silence. You didn’t know if he’d asked you a question or if he simply opted to stare at you, but when his hand came up to graze the side of your face, you assumed it was the latter. Perusing you, you watched as his gaze became distracted by the shallow scrape on your arm from Bucky’s nails, and when Peter’s jaw tightened, you knew that he realized where it came from too.

“Peter,” you softly forced out, throat tight.

He gave you his undivided attention, and you licked your lips.

“What are they going to do to me?”

Your question came out almost inaudible, just barely above a whisper as you found yourself almost too afraid to ask—too fearful to want to know. When Peter’s face fell some, your own frown deepened, and when he sighed, your heart sank.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he slowly told you, and you could see that he was telling the truth.

You knew that Peter would have no say in this, you’d known that, but faced with the knowledge that was completely in the dark only served to make your stomach twist more. Only this time, you weren’t able to stop it, and it was Peter who kept you from falling as you hurried to get out of the tub. You only just made it to the toilet in time, and with nothing in your stomach to throw up, all you expelled was bile.

One of Peter’s hands were on your waist, the other soothingly rubbing your back as you vomited again. With every heave of your stomach, you shook more and more, and when you were done, you could only stare at the wall behind the toilet.

“You’re sick,” he said, tone strained with worry.

You shook your head.

“No, I’m just… I’m scared,” you honestly told him, lifting your gaze to meet his. “…and heartbroken.”

Peter sadly tilted his head, and your lips quivered.

“Why did you lie to me?” you breathed. “Why did you…? Why did you minimize your part in it?”

You continued before Peter could lie some more.

“Why did you hold me and comfort me and tell me you weren’t as bad as them when you’re much worse?”

“I’m not,” he argued, grabbing your shoulder.

“…but you are,” you said with a frown. “At least with Steve and Tony and Bucky I know who they are. I fear them because they’ve shown me why I should.”

Peter pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest as he rocked you.

“You made me love you.”

The words came out small and choked, your face crumbling as Peter stilled, and you’d stupidly thought you had no more tears left. Your body proved you wrong, frame shaking as your chest tightened, a cry escaping you in the otherwise quiet bathroom. Peter didn’t respond right away, just holding you as you cried.

“I’m still the same person I was before you found out,” he whispered, rocking you. “…the same person you begged to run away with.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he confessed. “…but it’s why I can hold you every night for as long as I want.”

He leaned down to gently kiss your forehead, and your vacant and tearful gaze was on the bathtub, now.

“You don’t have to agree with it, even I don’t agree with it, but it had to be done if I wanted you all to myself.”

You knew that justified it all in Peter’s mind, and the part of your brain that was conditioned to normalize your new reality wanted to pull him closer, but the part that desperately missed your friends and family and old life only wanted to be sick.

When Peter rinsed you off and dried you, his fingers grazed your skin as he helped you get dressed. Soothing words left his lips that didn’t really mean much because how could he calm you against something that was unknown to him too? He didn’t even know what he was comforting you from. Once dressed, he stood before you, looking you over with his fingers grazing over yours.

When your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you didn’t stop him when he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Like every touch and kiss of his, now, you didn’t really feel it, and when Peter pulled away, you felt that the numbness that consumed you reflected in your own gaze. He heaved a sigh, fingering the ring on your finger.

“I still love you,” he assured you, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “That’ll never change…and even… Even when I have to do whatever it is I have to do today, I’ll be doing it with love.”

Those words didn’t exactly comfort you, and your eyes briefly closed when he walked you out of the bathroom. The stairs were hard to take, courtesy of your lack of food and what little sleep you’d managed to get. You shook beside Peter, and you knew that it was from more than just not eating. In fact, you were sure you were going to throw up again.

The house was unusually quiet—as well as empty—and that did nothing to alleviate your uneasiness. Peter’s hold on your hand was gentle, and as much you loved to hate him in this moment, you appreciated that he walked outside with you instead of walking you outside like a prisoner. You were surprised by how early it was in the day, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the rising sun. Days in the darkness had them hurting from the harsh natural light.

Just as you got used to it, a familiar and intimidating voice spoke.

“Leave her right there.”

Only, it wasn’t the voice you were used to being on the receiving end of. Your eyes met familiar blue ones as Peter was forced to step away from you, Bucky’s gaze very much transparent as he looked at you. His anger and disgust were palpable, and you found that you couldn’t hold his gaze.

That was a mistake.

“You will look at me,” he sneered, hurrying over to you and harshly gripping your chin.

Behind him, you could see Peter take a step forward only to be stopped by Sam. Bucky’s fingers were painfully pressing into your skin, and as difficult as you found it, you held the brunette’s gaze. It was in that moment that you realized why the house had seemed so quiet on your way out. You noted that the only person missing was Jane, and you guessed with her pregnancy and a need for someone to watch Margaret and Sharon’s children, they decided to kill two birds with one stone.

They clearly didn’t want to stress her, and that only made you more fearful of what was in store for you.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” Bucky said to you, and you swallowed. “We expect the odd escape attempt here and there.”

You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of Bucky’s venomous gaze, blue eyes icy.

“We look forward to it even,” he confessed. “None of you will ever succeed, so it helps you realize that, and you get it out of your systems.”

You blinked back tears, and Bucky took note of them, lip curling over his teeth.

“In fact…we had been anticipating yours from the moment we let you out of that basement, but I guess you really were too docile to fight back properly,” he continued, voice growing bitter. “Too docile even to tell one of us when our wife was trying to escape.”

When you blinked again, a tear finally escaped, and you didn’t know if you were supposed to respond. Evidently you were.

“What?” Bucky wondered, roughly letting your chin go. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Your chest heaved with a deep breath, and you started to glance around.

“No, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Bucky ordered. “After all, it was my wife who anything could’ve happened to.”

When your gaze met his again, more tears spilled over, and you sniffed.

“I’m sorry-.”

“We expect you to fight back…try and make a run for it… What we don’t expect is more loyalty to a traitorous wife than the men of the house,” he interrupted you, spitting the words out and making you flinch. “…because anything could come of that. You could kill one of us.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you said again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything but also knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

Bucky stared at you for a long time—too long—just looking down his nose at you as if he could barely stand to look at you. You were all too aware of the eyes on you, all too aware of the example being made out of you. You were in the dark about what was going to happen, now, and it made you want to be sick. However, of all the things you expected…

You didn’t expect Bucky to quickly grab your arm, twisting it—and you with his other arm—before violently shoving you to the ground. It happened so fast that when you finally cried out in pain, clutching your wrist, you were already looking up at him from the grass. He wasn’t looking at you though, hands behind his back as he stepped away from you.

“There are two outcomes for you today,” he started, making his way towards Peter who looked like he was moments away from committing murder—again. “Personally, I’m partial to either outcome…”

When you started to push yourself to your feet, the dark-haired man heard it, pausing to look at you with a wag of his finger.

“No, no. You don’t get up yet…”

Heart sinking, you sat back down, clutching your arm to you as you looked between him and Peter.

“The first,” he dragged out, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We finally get to see what Peter has in him…”

You froze, skin growing cold and heart dropping to your gut.

“…see if he has what it takes to make you…” Bucky turned his gaze to you, eyes glinting wickedly “…beg him to stop.”

You couldn’t stop more tears from spilling over, the realization of what this day could possibly bring crashing down on you like a wave. When you glanced over, your eyes met a familiar green pair, and Nat’s disgust and regret was plain as day on her face. She looked at you like she wanted to take your place in a heartbeat, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

You couldn’t hold in your sob, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“You can’t cry, now,” Bucky’s voice reached you as he neared you. “We haven’t even started yet.”

He forced you to your feet, and his hands were the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

When you first got here, Peter promised that that would never be you. He told you that he would never, but considering the circumstances of your offense, that choice was no longer up to him. You couldn’t stop sobbing, choking noises climbing out of your throat as Bucky continued.

“The other option is two months in the basement.”

When your eyes met Bucky’s again, there was a gleam in his eye and a curve to his lips that told you it wouldn’t be so easy as choosing which you’d prefer. You didn’t even want to say that the choice would be easy if given one because while your worst fear was recreating what Margaret had to go through during your first days here…you also knew that two months down in that darkness would break you beyond belief.

Two months down there, and you were sure you wouldn’t even be yourself when you emerged.

“It all depends on who gets to you first,” Bucky softly said, making you frown at him.

When he stepped away, you swayed on your feet, but his hand met your arm again when he turned you towards the small pond, free arm gesturing towards the dense trees behind it.

“Those legs that are near and dear to Peter’s heart are going to take you as far as you can go…”

His whispered words made you frown.

“Now, don’t think that you’re getting away…” he looked at you and you slowly looked at him. “…because you’re not. Someone will catch you, it’s only a matter of who, and that determines if this pretty little dress is coming off or not.”

His reminder of one of the possibilities made you lightheaded, and you pressed your hand to your chest when he walked away.

“If Peter catches you, then Peter will do what he has been instructed to do…”

The man in question spoke up, quietly pleading with Bucky, but the older man ignored him.

“…and I was going to participate in this little game,” Bucky said, jaw ticking as he looked at you. “…but you deserve to be terrified after what you did.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking away tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So…” he backed up, a small smile on his pink lips. “If Steve catches you…”

You couldn’t stop your knees from buckling, world spinning as you caught yourself on your hands and knees. Your skin pricked, and you felt almost on the verge of a heart attack.

“He gets to put you in the basement…” a pause. “Again.”

The sounds of the world were going in and out, and once again, you felt like you were going to throw up. Both options were the last thing you ever wanted, and once you ran into those trees, you didn’t know what would relieve you less—the sight of Peter or the sight of Steve. It was sick, really, because obviously you would rather be caught by Peter, but not if it meant…that.

…and if Steve caught you, you just knew it wasn’t going to be that simple

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky’s words were mocking, filled with a mixture of disdain and satisfaction, and as you looked up at him, you didn’t know who you hated more—him or Steve. The blond in question was someone you had avoided looking at since you stepped outside, bitter to see the sick satisfaction that no doubt covered his features at your humiliation.

Your comeuppance.

Pushing yourself to your feet was a struggle, and you didn’t look at Peter, too afraid to realize that he might be who you wanted to catch you, after all, even if it did mean public humiliation beyond comprehension. You felt beyond alone as you walked down the small decline, the dewy grass so nice against the soles of your feet despite the circumstances.

It was only when you got to the tree line, staring inside, did it hit you.

You were going to be hunted and chased down like some animal, and depending on who caught you first, that was what your punishment would be. Both options were enough to make your stomach flip, and for the life of you, you just couldn’t decide which was better. With a panicked sob, you forced your feet to move.

Every tree looked just like the other to you, and there was nothing in these woods to signal some kind of progress as you ran. It was crazy to think that there had once been days when you dreamed about being in these woods, closer to freedom and away from the craziness you’d been forced into. Now, however, you were in said trees and all you could think about was who would get to you first.

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind.

It wasn’t a matter of whether either of them would catch you. Both of you knew that you weren’t getting away from here, let alone from Peter or Steve in these woods. One of them was going to find you first, and even as you brushed past harmful branches and stumbling vines, you still didn’t know which choice presented to you was better. More than anything, you wanted it to be Peter to find you, but could you be okay with being raped for the whole household to see? This wasn’t like that day with Margaret…

Both Steve and Bucky wanted to make the biggest example out of you, and so the entire household would be there to witness your humiliation. However…it was one day. One hour even at the most of Peter doing what he normally did whenever you were alone…just in front of everyone else. If Steve caught you on the other hand…

Two months in the basement was a thought that actually made your knees shake, causing you to stumble against a tree. You knew—you knew—that you couldn’t handle that, and you knew that Peter knew it too. One option was just one bad day, that was all, but the other option would turn you into even more of a mess than you already were. You’d spent less than a week down there at the most, and both times were hell for you.

The second more so than the worst, and you didn’t want to unpack why that was.

When you heard a tree branch snap, you felt yourself freezing. The tree you were next to was larger, much larger than you, and you remained perfectly still as your hand rested against it. You had only stopped for a few moments, and the whole time you’d been lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard any footsteps. In fact, something in you told you that you were supposed to hear the snap of that branch.

When you dared to peek around the trunk, all of your breath left you.

The sight of Steve’s blond hair and back was a stomach turning one, and just as quietly as you peeked around, you hid yourself behind the tree once more. With one movement, you could end this torture and not have to be fucked for the whole household to see, but no matter how much you didn’t want that…you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

…because you didn’t want the alternative either.

Steve terrified you beyond belief—something Bucky had acknowledged—and something in you just knew that he wasn’t going to find you and take you back to the house as easy as that. Outside of raping Margaret, you had never heard of Steve doling out any kind of physical abuse, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Steve would strike you square across the face if he could get away with it.

Peeking around the tree again, you watched him walk away, scanning the area before him for any sign of you. Your nails pressed into the trunk, and with a sinking heart, you both accepted and hoped that Peter would find you, making peace with what that meant for you. With Steve completely out of your sight, you didn’t know which way to go, and so you went forward, adjacent to the direction Steve went.

You felt like you were getting so turned around the further you walked, and you wondered what would happen if you just decided to go back to the house. You wondered how the punishment would be decided then—provided you actually made it back without being caught. The thought of being caught by Steve prevented you from remaining calm and thinking clearly.

Or maybe it was everything else that did that.

You could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes, and you struggled to swallow, throat feeling incredibly tight. You’d thought that you cried enough in the basement, but that kept proving to be untrue. A few tears skipped down your face before many more followed behind, and you took in a shaky breath.

How was it that you hated Peter so so much for what he did…while also wanting nothing more than to just return to your bedroom with him when this was over? You didn’t want to go back down there, alone and bathed in darkness. You wanted to sleep in your bed with Peter and you wanted him to hold you while you cried about the very thing he’d done that caused the tears.

You hated him, but you wanted to be near him.

You didn’t want to hate him from afar. You wanted to hate him while staring at his face every night and listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling his hands on your shoulder as he sat behind you in the bathtub. You hated Peter so much for what he did—and lying about it—but it just wasn’t the kind of hate where you couldn’t stand the sight of him, and you hated him all the more for that.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and considering you’d gone in the opposite direction of Steve, you were prepared to meet your fate when your gaze would meet that of a familiar brown one. Only, the eyes that met yours weren’t brown…they were blue…and you felt your lips part.

You didn’t hesitate to run the other way, a scream climbing out of your throat when you were tackled to the ground. Steve’s hand was pressed to the back of your head as he slammed your face against the leaves and sticks, making you gasp, and when his arm snaked around your neck, a choked sound left you.

You weren’t surprised when he threw you to the dirt again.

“I knew…” he started, slowly following you as you attempted to crawl away. “From the moment Peter gave us that crock of shit about a gentler method, I fucking knew.”

You clawed at the dirt when Steve reached down to pull on one of your legs.

“I knew then that he was being too soft with you,” he spat, flipping you over. “I knew that it would come back to bite us.”

Steve squatted over you, one hand tightly curling around your throat, and you struggled to breathe as he slowly forced you to your feet. Your scraped at his hand, gaze tearful and pleading as Steve stared you down, nostrils flaring. His blond hair was a mess, an unusual sight for you, but those blue eyes were as cold as ever.

Steve really hated you.

“Bucky is better than me,” Steve hissed at you. “…because if Margaret had gotten as far as Nat did because of you, I wouldn’t make Peter stop until you were begging for him to put you out of your misery.”

You pushed at his hands, panicked, and he only shook you in response.

“You think he’s your best fucking friend,” Steve breathed through clenched teeth, sizing you up. “Instead of the man who owns you.”

When he threw you down, your head spun, and you struggled to right your vision. You pressed your hands to your temples as you cried, fighting the urge to curl in on yourself.

“That ends today…”

Steve’s words were spoken with finality, and you didn’t quite understand the meaning of them as you heard approaching footsteps. You heard Steve exhale, and when you dared to look up, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Peter.

“Peter,” he acknowledged. “Love that timing of yours.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to hurry towards you, placing a hand on your head as you sobbed. As you’d suspected, you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple if Steve caught you instead, and you realized just how complicated it was going to be at the sound of his next words.

“We need to make sure nothing like this happens again, Peter,” Steve told him, and they shared a look, something unspoken between them that had Peter’s jaw clenching.

“So, is that why you forgot who she belongs to? Is that why you treated her like you used to treat Peggy on her really bad days? She’s already terrified of you. What more do you want?” he sneered at him, briefly looking at you and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I need her to be terrified of you,” Steve answered, hands on his hips. “I told you from the beginning that you were too soft with her. I told you what needed to be done for her to get it.”

“Yeah, Steve, alright, I get it-!”

“…but you don’t,” Steve yelled at Peter, staring at the younger man just like a brother would. “You don’t get it because if you did, this would’ve never happened.”

Steve gestured around, cutting you a scathing look that made you wither.

“She would’ve never felt more loyal to Nat than the men who run this household. She would’ve understood that she exists to serve you and the house as a whole by extension.”

You hated the way Peter’s hands slowed on your face, and when you looked at his own face, he looked to be deep in thought.

“Not just the wives and whatever they think is best, but what’s best for the family,” Steve paced. “You are going to make her understand that she’s not your friend and certainly not your fucking equal.”

You watched Peter defeatedly exhale, eyes falling closed.

“You are going to make her understand that, right now,” Steve snarled.

“Steve…”

Peter’s tone was pleading, and that was when you finally sat up, looking between them with a racing heart. You scooted back, but Peter’s hand on your arm prevented you from going far. When your gaze met his, his eyes had softened, something in them pleading with you.

“I will make you, Peter.”

Steve’s tone was scarily calm, and you glanced at him, lips shaking at the malice in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? I will not rest until I catch her slipping up again, and depending on my mood that day, I just might make you fuck her right there in the garden for all to see,” he quietly told him. “So, it’s either now or it’s later…but it is happening. You decide.”

In truth, you didn’t know why you were crying. You had already accepted that you’d rather get the bad thing over with than drag it out for two months. However, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Steve was going to make Peter do this and still turn around and throw you right down in that basement. Even though there was less humiliation involved, it still seemed unfair.

“Do this and…maybe I can convince Bucky to only leave her down there for a month,” Steve proposed, and by the tone of his voice, he knew that he’d won.

You barely had time send Steve a scathing look of your own before your back roughly met the ground.

Peter’s mannerisms were rough, and while you knew it was because Steve wanted them to be, it didn’t mean you had to like it. You didn’t think Peter had ever been rough with you, and you cried out at the harsh pull on your hair, his other hand painfully digging into your waist.

“See, you need to understand, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice reached your ears as he circled you. “That you belong to Peter. You exist as an extension of him, now. You exist to exalt him, and the only way that you will get it in your head that you’re his property…”

Peter had flipped you onto your stomach, now.

“Is if he treats you like it.”

You yelped when your chest was forced to the ground, Peter manhandling you in the way he knew Steve wanted.

“…and what better way to do that than to show you that he can and will take you wherever and whenever regardless of who is around to see it,” he slowly said, making sure he was heard loud and clear.

The humiliation of feeling Peter push his cock into you before Steve’s very eyes had you squeezing yours shut, a harsh sob escaping as Peter’s skin slapped against yours. His hand was on your throat, and you clawed at it, gasping when his teeth pressed into your shoulder.

“You don’t have autonomy over your body anymore. You don’t exist independently of Peter, and that extends to this family…”

Peter’s harsh thrusts made your toes curl, and what was once a rough entry had become much smoother. With no warning and feeling wholly unprepared for this turn of events, tears escaped your eyes, and your fingers dug into the grass and dirt. The feel of Peter’s cock pushing into your walls was a familiar one you’d grown to love, but the sound of Steve’s pacing steps and voice made you want to crawl in a hole.

You felt torn apart.

“Had you previously understood that, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

Steve sounded pleased with himself—and Peter—and the thought made you sick. When Peter pulled your head back, you winced, and you started to move away from him, wanting this earlier and regretting it now—especially since you were going back into the basement anyway.

When Peter’s lips grazed your ear, you shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you, hand painfully pulling at your hair, making you cry out again.

You recalled Peter’s words from earlier, and you knew why this was happening. You understood the hierarchy in the household, understood that what Steve said went, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Steve would’ve absolutely made this happen for the whole house to say. You understood that this was the better alternative, but that understanding is what made you cry more.

This wasn’t something to be understood. The man thrusting into you had killed your friends and kidnapped you, and the man before you had helped. Peter wasn’t your husband or your lover but instead your captor and rapist. Nothing about any of this was right, and in this moment, you shouldn’t be rationalizing or understanding anything.

…but you did.

You understood why Peter grabbed you with no hesitation and proceeded to fuck you under Steve’s watchful eye. You understood why being raped for all to see had briefly been the better choice to you than being sent back into the basement. You understood why Peter was murmuring sweet nothings and apologies into your ear as he roughly held you down and plunged his cock into you.

You understood it all, and you hated it.

You didn’t want to simultaneously hold Peter closer and push him away as he roughly fucked you against the grass, face to face with you, now. You didn’t want him to obey when Steve told him to fuck you harder. You didn’t want to understand that Peter didn’t actually want this because if that were true he simply wouldn’t do it, right? You didn’t want to accept that this house didn’t follow the rules of the outside world and that so long as you were here—and you would be here forever—neither would you.

“Are you sorry, now?” Steve wondered, somehow able to hear his voice over the sound of your cries. “Hmm?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but you knew you gave him that anyway the moment you started crying. When Peter’s eyes met yours, he shushed you, a poor attempt to make this better somehow, and his next words made you blink.

“Do you see how much worse I could be?” he whispered, too low for Steve to hear. “How much worse they want me to be?”

You stared at him, nails digging into the skin of his arm, and with another harsh sob, you nodded.

“Do you understand what I’ve been trying to protect you from?”

Again, you nodded.

Peter’s nose grazed your own.

“Do you get it now?” he sadly asked you.

When you nodded again, unable to find your voice between cries, Peter shushed you. His fingers pressed into your skin, and his hips painfully came down against yours. When his lips pressed against yours, they swallowed the noises that escaped your throat.

“I never wanted this for you.”

…and you knew Peter was telling the truth.

#peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #dark fic #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #cop au

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vivwritesfics · 6 months

Note

since it seems like we’re all in situationship, could i request a fic about being in one with Lando?

happy ending, preferably. since our real situations won’t nicely (being honest)

- 🇺🇸 (i’m in one too. your emoji nons are going through it)

i think there's, like, four or five of you going through it rn, love you guyyyys

"Wanna go and get food?"

It was a simple question. And the simple answer was 'yes'. But the girls in the room with her shook their heads furiously, telling her to say no. She held the phone away from her mouth, covering the microphone. "But I want to go and get food," she hissed to her friends, hoping he couldn't hear it.

"Doesn't matter, babe," one of her friends replied.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell him 'not until you make it official, bitch'," another one of them said.

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, pick me up in ten?"

Her friends let out a series of groans as she ended the call and got ready. "When it happens, it happens. Stop trying to rush it," she said as they all got ready to leave the apartment.

But, the longer her sort of relationship with Lando went on, the more painful it got. She had hoped, maybe stupidly, that he would get bored and want to be with her. But Lando was perfectly happy with what they were.

The fucking, the getting food, the road trips. They were supposed to bloom into something more. But it hadn't. They had stagnated.

It was childish, the way that Lando was treating their sort of relationship. After a year of a 'situationship', she was desperate for more.

"Do you ever think about dating?" She asked as she laid back on Lando's bed, her hands resting on her stomach. It was her way of bringing up the subject in a casual manner, and a better way to get a response out of Lando. Ambushing him wouldn't work.

Lando shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes," he answered as he laid beside her, copying her pose.

She sucked in a breath. "Do you ever think about dating me?"

Immediately Lando let out a laugh. Her heart sank. Oh fuck, she had fucked everything, hadn't she? Why else would he be laughing?

"Who else would I think about dating?"

She sat up and smacked his shoulder. "Don't scare me like that, asshole." She laid back beside him, this time sitting a little closer. "So, do you wanna date me?"

He shrugged his shoulders, bumping it against her. "Well, obviously I wanna date you, or we wouldn't be here," he said. "But do you wanna date me?"

"Fucking hell, Lan. Of course I want to date you," she replied quickly.

"Yeah, but dating me means being in the spot light, being in the news, on camera and shit like that. Situationship means I get you to myself."

She shook her head and sat up. "I don't care about being in the spotlight, idiot," she said. "I just wanna be with you."

"Well, I wanna be with you too."

"Do it, then."

"Fine!"

"Kiss me then!"

"Fine!"

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #🇺🇸nonnie

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mechaknight-98 · 4 months

Text

Road Trip (NSFW) FT Nayeon and Tzuyu

Author's Notes: I just wanted to write a short little 1500 word jaunt but no my brain made it 7500. No matter. It was a fun ride (Pun intended.) Not currently sure what the rest of the release schedule is going to be right now, but there will probably something smaller maybe two however enjoy this special holiday release.

Driving from Anaheim, California to Houston, Texas is the worst. It’s not the most terrible thing I’ve ever had to do, but it’s in the top 20. Still, it was worth it. I was going to see my favorite K-pop group, Twice, and I would fly back after dropping off the rental. "Take photos," my dad convinced me. So, here I was, driving thousands of miles.

During one of my photo ops stops, I noticed a broken down van, smoke billowing from the engine. Three people were standing outside of it. I sucked my teeth.

“Sucks to be them,” I thought. As I passed, something told me to stop. I didn’t want to, but I did so against my better judgment. I stopped and walked over to them.

“Hey, do y'all need help?” I called out.

A feminine, accented voice responded, “Oh God, yes!” As I neared, I recognized two of the three faces. It was the matnae and maknae of Twice.

“Ehh, Nayeon and Tzuyu?” I said, bewildered.

“Ehh?” Nayeon replied, “You know us?” She added, and I nodded. Tzuyu laughed.

“Good, so no intros needed. You asked if you could help us. Can you drive us to the hotel?”

Tzuyu ran up to me and hugged me tightly, her eyes holding the cutest puppy dog pout. I sighed, resigned to my fate, and said, “Sure, let’s grab your stuff and go.” That’s when you approached.

“Thank you so much,” you said. “I’ll make sure the company pays you back for this.” I shrugged at your words, but you insisted. We loaded everything into the car and raced off to the hotel (metaphorically, of course). On the ride there, it was Tzuyu and me in the front, with Nayeon and you in the back.

“So, what’s your name?” Tzuyu asked with a hint of flirtiness.

“DJ, and you… don’t answer that. I already know… sorry, muscle memory.” I replied. Tzuyu laughed at my gaffe, as did Nayeon. You, of course, got it. They’re stars while you and I are seemingly normal.

“So, who is your bias?” Nayeon inevitably asked.

“That’s a setup… but I’m stupid, so Tzuyu,” I replied confidently.

Nayeon laughed and scoffed, then looked at you with a “Can you believe him?” look.

“Oh, so I’m your favorite,” Tzuyu acknowledged. I nodded, then turned on the Bluetooth for the radio. Tzuyu began to rock out to my heavy playlist as it started.

“Ugh,” Nayeon scoffed.

“I can play other stuff. I take non-country requests,” I replied. You laughed at my response, as you had been catering to the diva for the past few days. Conversely, the maknae piped up,

“No, I like this music. Especially this band. Chaeyoung introduced me to them.”

“Wait! Really? Chaeyoung introduced you to Architects, Tzuyu?” I asked, intrigued.

Tzuyu nodded before saying, “But please call me Chewy.” I gave her a thumbs-up as I continued driving. As we landed in New Mexico, I decided to get some photo ops at the Area 51 museum. Before stopping, I apologized to the rest of the passengers.

“Sorry, just wanted to get some pictures,” I explained. You and the girls nodded as I got out. Nayeon, being her sexy but conceited self, asked me to take some pictures at a nearby station. I obliged, and she posed.

“Be sure to send me those later because I look sexy,” she said confidently. I nodded as Nayeon went back to you. Meanwhile, Chewy politely asked me to take some pictures of her, which I happily obliged.

Her photos bordered more on the cute side, but when she wasn’t taking photos, she made some quite suggestive and flirty comments.

For example, when I showed her one taken with a silly hat on, she said, “Oh, that’s so nice. You make me glow, but can you make me squirm and scream?” Her tone was hushed enough so only I could hear her. I turned to her, and she just gave an innocent smile as if she wasn’t spouting filth.

I chuckled, which she mirrored as we talked.

“So, DJ, are you a professional photographer?” Chewy asked politely.

“Nope, working on getting there though,” I replied.

Chewy nodded before asking another question, “What’s stopping you?”

I laughed and partially joked, “Mostly money and experience. Once I have those, I’ll be there.” Chewy laughed and said,

“Well, I think you’re pretty good.”

While we were talking, Nayeon scoffed, “Chewy is swooning.”

“Really?” you asked.

“Can’t you tell? She’s been extra doe-eyed with him. She’s going to eat him alive, but that’s just her. She always goes for the kind and naive ones.”

“Hey, you used to be like that too, if memory serves correctly,” you countered.

“We were in high school, and I didn’t know any better,” Nayeon rebuked, and you laughed.

“Let Chewy have her moment. He seems nice.”

“That’s the problem,” Nayeon scoffed. While no one was looking, though, she leaned in and sneaked a kiss on your cheek.

“Thank you for ‘being my manager’ for this tour. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have,” Nayeon admitted. You smiled at her words before saying,

“You’re welcome, Nabong.” Nayeon’s lips curled upwards in a mischievous grin.

“I think I may need one of your full-body massages,” Nayeon said, emphasizing the word “massage,” letting you know what she meant. You smirked and said,

“Anything for my favorite bunny.”

After taking pictures, I continue the drive to the hotel. Conveniently, we're all staying at the same place.

You, Nayeon, and Tzuyu check in while I search for parking. When I finally enter, I try to be discreet.

"Um, one room for Dracul Bram?" I ask in a low tone. The hostess looks at my ID, then up at me with a confused but amused grin.

"Room 104," she says, "behind the check-in station and around the corner." I give her a thumbs-up and head towards my room.

I would have made it if not for someone behind me calling out, "DJ, where are you going?" I turn to see Chewy waving me over. She’s at the bar with you, Sana, another manager, and Nayeon. Resigned, I join you all.

As I approach, Sana laughs and says, "Oh wow, you’re so tall." I shrug, while you notice Chewy glaring at Sana. You chuckle internally, recognizing that Chewy is interested in me. Nayeon shoots you a knowing look, also noticing Chewy's reaction.

When I sit down, Sana quickly starts her flirty "interview."

"So, DJ, I hear you're quite the photographer?" Sana purrs.

"Um, still an amateur. I lack the funds and experience to be considered 'professional,'" I reply. Sana smirks.

"So why don't we help you get more experience? How would you feel about being my photographer for the concert in Houston?" My mind stalls as I try to process her proposal. The air grows thick, and while I'm dumbfounded, Tzuyu glares at her unnie. You and Nayeon laugh, recognizing the game Sana is playing. Chewy, completely unaware, takes the bait.

"But unnie, I thought you liked Mark a lot more. Maybe you should take him, and I'll take DJ?" Chewy proposes.

"Game, set, match," Nayeon whispers in your ear.

Sana smiles and replies to Chewy, "I don't know. You said DJ takes really good pictures, and I haven't seen them yet..." Before Sana can finish, Chewy quickly says,

"Fine... I'll take the room with Dahyun," Chewy sighs.

"Deal," Sana quickly agrees with a smile. I'm still reeling from the initial proposal as this deal unfolds around me.

Before I can fully process what just happened, the bartender approaches, asking for our drink orders. Chewy, still flustered from her exchange with Sana, quickly orders a soda. Nayeon orders a cocktail, and Sana, with a smirk, opts for something stronger. You and I both go for something simple, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire interactions around us.

"DJ, how did you end up driving from California?" Nayeon asks, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

"Well, I wanted to see you guys perform and take some photos along the way. My dad thought it would be a good idea," I explain, feeling slightly more comfortable now that the conversation has shifted to neutral territory.

Chewy brightens at this. "So, you like road trips and photography? That's a fun combination."

"Yeah, it's been an adventure," I admit, smiling at her enthusiasm. "And now, unexpectedly, I'm here with you all."

Sana, not one to let the spotlight shift too far, interjects, "Well, it's lucky for us that you stopped to help. Nayeon and Chewy would have been stranded otherwise." Her tone is light, but there's a genuine appreciation beneath it.

"Definitely," you agree, raising your glass in a toast. "To unexpected adventures."

Everyone raises their glasses, and the mood relaxes further. As we chat, Nayeon nudges you and whispers something in your ear, causing both of you to laugh.

Chewy, noticing this, leans in closer to me. "So, DJ, tell me more about your photography. What kind of subjects do you like to shoot?"

I start to answer, but I'm interrupted by a sudden buzz from Nayeon's phone. She glances at it and then groans. "It's our manager. He needs us for a quick meeting."

Sana rolls her eyes but stands up. "Duty calls. DJ, it was nice meeting you. Don't forget about our deal."

Chewy stands up reluctantly, giving me a small, shy smile. "I'll see you later, DJ."

As they head off, you stay behind for a moment. "You handled that well," you say, clapping me on the shoulder. "Welcome to the world of K-pop chaos."

I laugh, feeling more at ease. "Thanks. I think I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"You'll be fine," you assure me. "Just keep being yourself. They seem to like you already."

With that, you head off to join the others, leaving me at the bar to reflect on the whirlwind of the evening. As I sit there, I can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness about what the next few days will bring.

I decide to pay the tab before finishing my drink and heading to my room. I upload the picture to my tablet before sending the photos to Chewy and Nayeon. While going over them one of the pictures of Chewy stands out. I send it to my phone and make it my wallpaper while keeping my home screen something more nerdy. After that, I decided it was for the best if I went to sleep for the night.

After I finally got comfortable and passed out you and the rest of the girls get out of your meeting. Nayeon Dramatically absconds with you to her room while Chewy checks her phone she notices my pictures. She smiles and sends me a cute little message. She is a little sad when I don't respond. She also decided to turn early.

You on the other enter your room hand in hand with Nayeon. She beams at you ready for her “massage”. She begins to strip for you and your smile grows wide.

“You always look like a kid in a candy store,”

You smile then reply, “With how hot you are can you blame me?” Nayeon grins and looks at you happily.

“Oh, I'm going to enjoy this,” she lies on the bed and spreads her long legs. You marvel at her thick thighs and buoyant ass. Nayeon beams as you stare at her “Well come on fuck me,” she says with an arrogant smile that drives you wild wild. You strip to her as she does her “sexy” shimmy she does whenever she's feeling herself. You line yourself up with her entrance. You rub her clit and pussy with your rod as she patiently waits. After a few minutes of teasing, she jams you inside her.

“Oh yes,” she moans as you bottom out in her. Her tightness takes your breath away as you wait for her to stop clenching you. When her body finally acclimated you begin to thrust in and out of her. She moans uncontrollably as you begin to thrust harder and harder.

“Yes, Yes, Yes,” she moans deliriously from the pleasure. You groan as you feel her tighten before she climaxes. You watch as her body arches back and her slick floods out of her. As she covers you cock and crotch in her cum you keep fucking her until you reach your high. You flood her with semen as you reach your orgasm. As the two of you come down from your mutual high you gaze at the clock.

“Shit! We can't do anymore because we have to get up early tomorrow,” you say stressed Nayeon nods before and the both of you pass out.

I wake up early the next morning, shower, get changed, and get ready for the day. When I walk out, you, Sana, the other manager from last night, and Chewy are all waiting for me.

“Oh good, we didn't miss you. Congratulations, you've been selected to drive in Twice’s caravan,” you say to me.

I blink a couple of times before saying, “Huh?”

Chewy laughs and responds, “We are still missing one van, so we figured since we are all going to the same place, you could help us out again.” I process the information slowly.

Confused, I look at the group and realize that I’ve been temporarily enlisted into Twice’s caravan. Today, I’ll be driving the manager (Sam), Sana, and Chewy. I blink a few times but relent, “You all know I'm flying back, right?” I ask, concerned.

You nod and say, “As are we.”

I shrug and say, “Well, okay then.”

You clap your hands together. “Good, see you at the next hotel in Houston.” I nod quietly as I pack up. The girls and Sam follow me to the car. As we load up, Sana asks, “Hey DJ, you're big and strong. Can you help me with my bags?” I nod and lift her bags into the trunk. Sana smiles and caresses my arms.

“I knew you could do it,” she says seductively. I nod as Sana goes to sit. Chewy walks close to me, and instinctively I load up her bags. Chewy smiles, and we get ready to go. She takes her seat in the front with me. As I check to see if everyone is buckled, Sana flashes me a flirty smile. Once everyone is secure, I start driving.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, Chewy asks me what music she should put on. I catch myself before saying, “Put on Lorgar’s audiobook.” Instead, I suggest she put on the Whiplash playlist. She does so and is surprised when "Perfect World" by Twice is the first song. I catch the smiles aimed at me, then the confused look when the second song, "Backbreaker" by Fit For a King, comes on. Initially, my passengers are confused, but as they listen to more of the playlist, they start vibing with me.

After about six hours of driving, we make our first stop at a gas station. I take a few pictures of the desert and plains, which Sana sneaks her way into. When I finish, she gets close to me and says, “Oh, you're really good.” I thank her for the compliment, while also noticing Chewy sitting a little way off with a forlorn but cute pose. I snap a few photos before going into the convenience store section of the gas station and grabbing her a snack. When I walk out toward her, I sit next to her and hand her the snack. She looks at me and pouts, “I can't eat that. It will go straight to my thighs.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And why would that be bad? You have the sexiest thighs,” I say. Tzuyu giggles.

“You're just saying that,” she responds. I shake my head, resisting the impulse to pull her closer.

“You are super pretty, and I think one honey bun won't be the end of the world. Fifteen in two hours, though…that might be a problem,” I joke. Tzuyu smiles and leans on my shoulder.

Sana and Sam watch from a distance.

“Oh, she's got him,” Sam says with a laugh. Sana nods with a pout.

“He just looks so cuddly,” Sana laments.

“Yeah, I get that, but you get all the attention. Let Chewy have this one,” Sam replies.

Sana pouts again. “Okay.”

When we all get back into the car, the next song up is "In the Mouth of Madness" by Nightmares. Chewy enjoys it and asks about their other albums. I wince as I tell her this is their only one. She frowns but understands. After that, "Cheer Up" comes on, garnering a few more smiles.

"You like us," Chewy says.

I nod and reply, "Well, yeah. If it weren't for you all, I wouldn't have gotten through the pandemic. I was alone and isolated for most of it, and you nine got me through by being this giant pastel pink sign saying, 'Things will get better!' So I fought on." Chewy smiles warmly.

Sam hears this and says, "The little Once that could." I chuckle along with the rest of the car.

After a few more hours, we arrive at the last hotel. Curiously, we are the first to arrive, beating out the rest of the vans. Cameras and flashes surround the car as we step out. Momentarily blinded, I grab Sana's and Chewy's bags and help them check-in. When I go to check into my hotel, Sam stops me.

"We got you a room," he says. I nod and gratefully take the room key as we head to the elevator.

"Chewy likes you," he says out of the blue.

"What? No," I scoff.

Sam's eyes narrow. "Yes, she does. I have never seen her this engaged with someone, especially someone outside of Twice."

"She's just being nice," I say, still in disbelief.

Sam rolls his eyes as we exit the elevator. "You say that, but she loves the whole knight-in-shining-armor thing. She eats it up, and you being the bashful knight type—she's going to eat you alive."

"You make it sound like she's a maneater," I respond, confused.

Sam grins wickedly before entering his room. "She is, but she has picky tastes. Anyway, be careful—or not."

Left alone with a lot to process, I lie down and think about the day.

"Do I like Chewy back?" I ponder.

"If I do, am I willing to give up my anonymity to be with her?"

My thoughts halt when I get a DM from Chewy saying, "Hey, can you come to my room? I need help ordering food." Without hesitation, I go. My heart had already chosen for me. When I get to her room, she’s in shorts and a crop top with a giant heart shape on it. She smiles at me.

"That was fast," she teases.

I smile and say, "Well, anything for royalty, I guess." She looks confused.

"Your song, 'Queen of Hearts,' and your shirt," I explain. Chewy looks down and laughs.

"Okay, I thought that was your first humor miss."

"I am always missing," I reply. Chewy smiles and pats the bed next to her. I walk and lie down next to her. She nestles closer as I help her order room service, wrapping herself around me tightly.

A knock on the door interrupts us. I go to open it, and Dahyun, Sana, Nayeon, and Jihyo arrive, along with you, Sam, and another manager, this one female.

"So, you're the Machine God I’ve been hearing so much about. The name's Sara," the female manager says, amused.

I look at her, confused.

Sara rolls her eyes as she says, "Oh, don't give me that puzzled look. You drove here straight without any breaks except a couple of stops for gas."

I nod, understanding now, as I walk back to the bed with Chewy. When I sit back down, you and Nayeon notice how Chewy moves her legs onto my lap.

"Oh, someone is staking her claim," you whisper calmly.

Nayeon whispers back, "I wonder how long until she drops the shyness and he sees her true self."

"Oh, it'll happen before we head back. I can see it in her eyes. She wants him badly, and she's barely containing herself. We probably delayed it tonight."

"What was that?" Sara asked, catching your whispered conversation with Nayeon.

"Oh, nothing, just discussing what we should order for room service after we leave," you reply quickly.

Sara isn't convinced. "Right," she says sarcastically, before turning to me.

"So, DJ, what does DJ stand for?"

Expecting this question, I sigh. "Promise not to laugh?" Everyone looks at me, puzzled but nods.

"My name is Dracul Marcus Bram Jr., but my family calls me DJ," I say. The room falls silent before Sara responds.

"Okay, I see why you prefer DJ, but I think Dracul is pretty badass." I give a thumbs up and try to blend back into the group dynamics. The doorbell rings, and Chewy jumps up excitedly. "I'll get it, Drac," she says, kissing me on the cheek. My mind blanks for a moment. I sit there, stunned, as Chewy fetches the food and returns. Seeing my dumbfounded expression, she smiles.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

Still processing, I hear Sam laughing. When I finally regain my composure, I feel an unexpected calm and confidence.

"I just didn't expect that," I reply. Everyone hears the newfound steadiness in my voice and is taken aback. Usually, when Tzuyu shows her real self to someone she likes, they become more timid. This is the first time anyone has taken her advances in stride.

Tzuyu feels a shift inside herself. In her mind, I transform from "Cute Teddy Bear" to "I want this man to father my children," though only for a moment before settling on "Datable Material."

The silence grows uncomfortable, so I say, "The food looks good, Chewy. We should eat before it gets cold." For the first time, Chewy is the one flustered. She giggles and smiles, bringing the food over. She got a burger, and I got a quesadilla—though it might have been called something else, it had all the ingredients.

Tzuyu and I eat comfortably while the others watch. You notice a change in our body language. We're no longer timidly stealing glances or shyly flirting. Chewy gives me ravenous looks, and I reciprocate with calm, measured passion. If you were more observant, you would have noticed our touches growing more frequent until we were holding hands.

The atmosphere between us shifts. Instead of a bashful princess and her shy knight, we exude the air of two confident equals—me, the composed diplomat, and her, the assertive Empress. Her eyes say she wants to devour me, and I feel the same urge. Yet, with an audience, the battle must wait. We're so engrossed in our little world that we don't notice the others leaving until the door closes and Dahyun says, “Goodbye.” We wave politely, but as soon as the door closes, Chewy grabs me and pulls me in for an emotional, sloppy kiss.

I love it and let her take the lead this time. She broke the kiss. She was frantic, “should I go fast? Should I savor you and make a mess of you?” Tzuyu said as her mind raced.

I smirked and calmly replied, “It's not a race,”

Tzuyu gave me the sexiest and most ferocious glare before she said “I am going to drain every single last drop of cum from you and make you scream my name all night,” I surrender to her fervor this time as she brings me in for another kiss. I guess savage maknae wasn't a cute nickname. Her kisses were messy but also extremely hot. She was vicious but she knew what she wanted and I was going to let her have it.

While she kissed me I felt her hand slip into my sweatpants. I feel her hand reach my rod and she begins to slowly stroke.

She breaks the kiss and stares at me luridly.

“Ah Tzuyu,” I moan out. Tzuyu smiles

“Whose cock is this?” she asks innocently

“Yours,” I moan she nods happily.

“Good. Now I'm going to suck my cock and you're going to paint my face. Can you do that for me?” she asks hungrily. I nod as she pushes my sweatpants down and moves to my cock. She continues her glacial pace that I both hate and love. She looks up at me her gaze is ferocious as she devours me. Drool pools around my shaft as sloppily engorged herself. She comes up for air and resumes stroking me.

“Do you like it?” she asks innocently. I nod helplessly. She goes to my frenulum and teases it with her tongue. I moan her name again. She smiles and goes back down on me. I try to hang on but everything about what she's doing to me has me on edge. I tilt her face up bring her lips back to mine and kiss her. Her eyes are wide the entire time with surprise but she happily accepts the kiss. When we break it she smiles.

“I appreciate your adoration,” she says before slapping me,

“But tonight I'm in control,” she says firmly I nod.

“I'll let that transgression slide because you're so cute, but next time I won't be so forgiving,” I nod and feel my cock twitch in her hand. She notices

“Are you close babe?” she asks sweetly. I nod and she does everything in her power to get the largest load possible.

“Oh fuck Tzuyu,” I scream out as I cum all over her face. She smiles as she gets up. She sauntered off like a satiated predator. As I lay there the weight of what just happened hits me. My cock despite having just orgasmed is still rock hard and overwhelming my body with thoughts of pinning Tzuyu down and railing her. When she does get back she is fully nude and sauntering back for seconds. Our eyes narrow as both our predatory natures rise to the surface. Who will be the first to submit? we ask each other with our eyes. I get up and approach her I strip down as well before reaching her. She looks up into my eyes. I see vulnerability but also a deep fathomless lust. I kiss her forehead which makes her smile acutely and then I bend her over the bed and impale her.

“Oh fuck Dracul,” she yells as I fully rest myself inside her. I wait for her to stop shaking, and then I start thrusting. Tzuyu loses it as my cock ravages her pussy. I put one hand on her hips and the other firmly groped her breast. She moans uncontrolled. I take my time with her body searching for the best angles hoping to get her off. Eventually, I find the winning combination of thrusts, touches, and kisses as she yells, “fuck Dracul I'm cumming.” her womanhood tensed and tightened around me before she squirted profusely over my cock. When she finishes I pump my load into her causing her to orgasm again.

We fall into bed and pass out after that when I wake up we are spooning and my cock is still deep within her. Feeling me stir she moans as she jolts awake she turns to me and trapezes on top of me before she begins to ride me. Her hands pin mine as she aggressively ruts and grinds into me like an animal in heat. With her ferocious tempo neither of us last long as we cum together. She smiles as she gets off of me and my cum drips down her thighs.

She goes to shower, giving me a chance to do the same in my room. When I finish, I notice a message on my phone:

“I didn't say you could leave. Meet me downstairs for breakfast.”

Tzuyu’s possessiveness is both sexy and annoying, but I comply. When I arrive, she’s sitting with Chaeyoung and Dahyun, looking relaxed and pleased. I grab a light breakfast of an omelet and toast and join them. They all smile and wave as I sit down.

“So, you're DJ?” Chaeyoung asks. I nod and extend my hand for a shake, which she accepts. Then, I surprise them by praying over my food.

While we eat, you and Nayeon join us. You notice a few bite marks on my neck and discreetly point them out to Nayeon, who laughs more openly. When Dahyun asks about it, you casually say, “Inside joke.”

You grab a plate for Nayeon, who’s “too exhausted” to do much herself. As you sit back down, Nayeon gives you a mischievous glance before turning to Tzuyu and me.

“So, Tzuyu, did you enjoy DJ last night?” she asks.

I laugh and start to get up, but Tzuyu grabs the edge of my shirt, stopping me. I sit back down as she responds, “I did. He was great. Why? Are you jealous?”

The group falls silent. You look at a stunned Nayeon, then an amused Tzuyu. I marvel at Tzuyu, who turns to me and asks,

“So, what are your plans for today?”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts before replying, “Well, I was planning to visit a couple of tourist sites, play some Commander, and then catch the Rockets game tonight.”

Tzuyu eyes me cautiously before responding, “Okay, but get back as quickly as you can. I have some things I want to discuss with you for tomorrow’s concert. We have a soundcheck today.”

I nod and ask when the soundcheck is. She gives me the time, and I reply, “Oh, I can make that.”

Tzuyu smiles and says, “Perfect!”

After breakfast, we all split up. Tzuyu corners me, and I can see the arousal in her eyes.

“Do you think you could spend more quality time with me tonight?” she asks. I nod, and she smiles before kissing me. Her tongue pierces down my throat, leaving me breathless.

“Be ready. Yesterday, I only got a taste, but tonight I'm going to devour you,” she says firmly, making me squirm. I nod and give her a timid thumbs-up, fighting the urge to let her have me right there. Tzuyu smiles as she walks away.

When I get to my rental car, you manage to find me.

“My boss has been looking over your work, and he's impressed. He wants to offer you a spot for the rest of the tour,” you tell me. I sit in the car, shocked, before responding,

“How much would the pay be? I’d have to quit my job.”

You eye me nervously and ask, “How does USD 150,000 for the rest of the stops sound?”

I blink at you a couple of times, then calmly say, “That works.”

You also hand me a check for $30,000 to cover the rental, gas, and any other minor expenses. I look at you and sigh.

“I’m going to use this to buy more professional camera equipment since everything else is already accounted for and budgeted,” I reply.

You smile and say, “Well, then you'd better hurry.”

I nod and leave, allowing you to go back to Nayeon with a dumb grin on your face.

Nayeon smiles and says, "Based on your look, I assume he took the deal."

You laugh, relieved, and nod, replying, "Yes, and the dummy is using the money to buy more professional gear."

Nayeon gives you a confused look before asking, "Wait, why is that dumb?"

"Well, short answer: we were going to have him use the gear we already had. But since he's doing all this work to get better, newer gear, we get a return on the rentals. So he's saving us money, and we don’t get used gear. Plus, he's the only one liable,” you say, elated.

Nayeon nods and laughs at my over-eagerness. “Okay, great! Now we

have some unfinished business,” Nayeon replies.

You approach your starlet with the fervor she deserves. She smiles as she watches you strip bare excited to have you inside her once again. You approach her bare body and begin to kiss her feet, because if there is one thing that Nayeon loves it's being worshiped. so you start with kissing her feet, then you meander to her thighs where you let loose upon them. You spent almost an hour kissing biting and licking her thighs until Nayeon couldn't take it anymore

"Fuck me till I beg you to stop" She whined. You smiled before taking your cock out and plunging into her.

"Ah Fuck," Nayeon moaned as her pussy acted more like a constricting snake than the bunny she moonlighted as. you moan as you impale her.

"how are you still so tight?" you ask. Nayeon laughs as she coils around you tightening her pussy even more.

You two begin to fuck in earnest. You grind ruthlessly into each other's hips as both of you attempt to maximize pleasure for yourselves. You loved that you could be as selfish as you wanted being Nayeon's lover because she was equally as selfish. it made all things with her so honest. you lift her hips to get deeper trying to hit her cervix which Nayeon loved despite the soreness it gave her. when you feel your tip hit her cervix Nayeon moans, and you keep pounding into her tight pussy.

Her walls continue to get tighter miraculously as you push in and out of her forcing her to take more and more of you. her eyes roll into the back of her head as her tits bounce due to the force of your thrust into her. her blissed-out face makes you smile, and yet somehow her pussy tightens around you again. As she starts convulsing she starts cumming violently around your cock. you groan and push through feeling her walls forcibly trying to milk you. you push past the tightness and look at her.

"I love how fast you cum Nabong. It's so hot," you say as Nayeon moans all around you. you keep thrusting into her while her mind is broken by the pleasure she feels. eventually, you can't hold it anymore and you cum inside of her. You moan as she moans your name before flooding her guts with your seed. After that, she begs you not to go again due to her sensitivity.

While Nayeon and you were having fun, I was getting a myriad of things done throughout the city. After finishing lunch, I got a text from Tzuyu asking me to meet her at the soundcheck, which was a bit earlier than anticipated. So I headed to the venue. I was stopped at the gate by security, but just then, Jeongyeon arrived. She laughed at me waiting and said to the security guard,

"Why is Tzuyu's photographer being held up by you?" The man went pale. Jeongyeon grabbed me and took me with her.

"You're lucky I was here; otherwise, you'd have been stuck until we left," she teased.

"Thanks, Jeongyeon-noon," I said. Jeongyeon looked at me, disgusted.

"Nope, I hate it. Just call me Jeongyeon," she said firmly. I nodded.

"One last question. Do you know where Tzuyu will be?" Jeongyeon nodded and had me follow her.

We arrived at the staging room. She opened the door, and Tzuyu looked up, making eye contact with me before her face erupted into a smile and a light giggle. Jeongyeon smiled and said, "Don't have too much fun, lovebirds," and then left for another area.

Tzuyu scowled, then turned to me with a happy smile, beckoning me to sit next to her by patting the couch. She hugged me and said, "What took you so long, babe?"

I replied plainly, "I didn't have any credentials according to the security guard, and Mal couldn't vouch for me." Tzuyu nodded as she cuddled me.

"Did you have fun before at least?" she asked happily. Dahyun walked in before I could answer.

Her cute, bewildered look was adorable as she asked, "OH! Am I interrupting something?" I shook my hands, and Tzuyu confirmed she wasn't.

Dahyun sat next to us and pulled out her phone. "I was mostly doing banking stuff since Mal gave me a check for helping you all."

Tzuyu nodded and smiled, "Okay, well, it's good to see you." I gave Chewy a thumbs-up, and she smiled. Dahyun took the lull in the conversation to talk to me.

"So, DJ. How are you feeling about all of us so far?"

"I love it. This is the most... interesting time I have had in a while, so I can't complain too much." Dahyun smiled and said,

"That's great."

I nodded at Dahyun as Chewy nestled closer. As we settled in, a camera flashed. Stunned and confused, I waited for my eyes to readjust, then saw Sara and Sana holding their phones, laughing.

Sara turned to Sana and said, "Oh, got the two lovebirds nesting." Sana laughed with Sara as they walked out. Chewy held me tighter. About 18 minutes later, all of the girls were called for the full run-through. I got up, but before I could join them, you stopped me and handed me multiple badges.

"Here are your badges for the soundcheck and tomorrow's concert," you said firmly. I nodded.

You nodded then said, "Now I know you are hired to be Tzuyu's photographer, but feel free to get some shots of the other girls here and there." I nodded in affirmation.

"Great. Now, last thing: have fun. This is meant to be work, but nothing says we can't enjoy it. Although, based on the noises I heard last night, you certainly know how to have fun."

I laughed and threw you a curveball, "Yeah, I’m sure you do as well with Nayeon." You looked at me, shocked.

"You picked up on that?" you asked, bewildered.

I nodded and said, "Just because it seems like I am not paying attention doesn't mean I am not."

You nodded before saying, "Remind me not to underestimate you."

I smiled and said, "Don't worry, everyone does."

You furrowed your brow, then said, "I won't make a habit of it. So, what did you get today?"

"I got the Nikon Z6III, a Z8, and Z9 cameras, and five various Z-mount lenses."

"Wow, you must like Nikon, but question. Why only on hold? You need them, right?"

"I do, but not right now, and I am waiting for the check to clear. So if you are messing with me, I'll know beforehand."

You considered my words. "Hm, that's quite cunning of you."

I shrugged and replied, "If you think so." You laughed before signing off.

I spent the rest of the soundcheck recording videos and taking pictures while weaving in and out of the "crowds." You watched from afar and noticed my shooting style. It's exceptionally patient, which you found surprising, but you didn't watch me for long as your manager duties and your love for a specific bunny-associated idol forced you to pivot your focus constantly. after the Soundcheck, I head back to my rental followed by Chewy, Mina, and Chaeyoung. we hop in and Mina says,

"So Mr. Bram if that is your real name I have a question for you. What are your intentions without Maknae?" I look at her then Chewy then at Chaeyoung. I consider saying something dumb but decide on the rational option.

"I like her and I hope she likes me back. otherwise, just take it slow I guess," Mina eyes me suspiciously but relents.

When we arrive back at the hotel I was expecting a quiet night with Chewy, but I am quickly thrust into a party with the rest of Twice as they get out their pre-concert jitters.

it was hectic among other things. there was drinking, karaoke, dancing, and other shenanigans. I was able to steal a few moments with Chewy and we were able to discuss the photos I took today. She also liked the photos I took of the other members.

"Hey, lovebirds. No discussing work," a drunk Nayeon said to us as we chatted on the edge of the "party."

I tapped out at about 12:45 AM, while the Extroverts of the group plus Nayeon (she is an honorary extrovert) Mina, Jeongyeon, and Momo kept going. I got to my room and was surprised to hear a knock on the door. I open it and Chewy is waiting outside. I wince before saying,

"I am sorry Chewy but I can't do anything else tonight." Chewy smiles before saying

"Good me too. I just wanted to cuddle tonight." I give her a thumbs up and we get in the bed before passing out. I wake up before her and shower. after the shower, she looks at me with a hungry look. I sigh and say,

"As much as I would like to spend more time with you I have too much to do." Chewy rolls her eyes before getting up to kiss me and then shower herself.

"Fine but can I ride with you?" I nod and we get ready.

fast forward we pick up the cameras and lenses. I also pick up more memory and a few other essentials. I charge all of them at the hotel as Chewy and I float around doing our various concert preparations. When we have to leave you and Sara ride with me while the girls ride together. We arrive at the venue and it's on from there.

I hustled around the venue, my camera clicking away as I captured the energy of the final preparations. The air was thick with excitement and a touch of nervousness. Tzuyu spotted me from across the room and made her way over, her face lighting up with a smile.

“Wish me luck,” she whispered, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. Her eyes sparkled with determination.

“You don’t need it, but good luck anyway,” I replied, grinning back at her.

The lights dimmed, and the roar of the crowd surged through the arena. The concert had begun. I moved through the crowd, capturing the electrifying performances, the fans’ ecstatic faces, and the sheer energy of the night.

Now and then, Tzuyu would glance my way, our eyes meeting for a brief moment amidst the chaos, a silent connection that kept me grounded.

After the concert, the atmosphere was jubilant. The group members hugged each other, celebrating their success.

Tzuyu found me in a quieter corner, her face glowing with happiness and exhaustion.

“Thank you for being here,” she said, pulling me into a tight hug. “Not just for the photos, but for me.”

“Anytime,” I replied, holding her close. she tried to protest due to being sweaty and smelly but I informed her that we were well past that

Just then, you approached us, holding an official-looking document. “Well, you made it. (I nod) I take it you had fun? (I nod again) Good well there is only one last bit of business. Are you willing to do the rest of the tour?”

I looked at Tzuyu. Her eyes were hopeful, yet she remained silent, not wanting to sway my decision. I thought about the journey, the connections I had made, and the possibilities that lay ahead.

“I’d love to,” I said, smiling as I took the contract. Tzuyu beamed with joy.

As the celebration continued, Tzuyu and I slipped away to a quieter spot on the rooftop, overlooking the city lights. The night was cool, and the city seemed to sparkle just for us.

“We did it,” Tzuyu said, leaning against the railing, her hand entwined with mine.

“We did,” I agreed, looking out at the horizon. “And it’s just the beginning.”

“Promise me something,” she said, turning to face me. “No matter how crazy things get, we make time for moments like this.”

“Promise,” I said, sealing it with a kiss.

We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city lights casting a soft glow around us. At that moment, I felt a sense of peace and anticipation. The future was uncertain, but it was bright, filled with endless possibilities.

As the night wore on, I reflected on my journey. From a chance encounter to this incredible moment, I found love, friendship, and a new path in life. And for the first time in a long while, I was truly excited for what lay ahead.

Tzuyu and I shared a final kiss under the stars, ready to face whatever the future held, together.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #twice smut #twice fanfic #nayeon #nayeon smut #twice tzuyu #twice nayeon #tzuyu #tzuyu smut #nayeon x reader #gn reader

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queenimmadolla · 7 months

Text

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Summary: Tired of seeing Eddie with other women, you reflect on how much longer you can take it.

Warnings: no mentions of y/n, fem!reader, heavy on the angst, hurt with attempts to comfort, both reader and Eddie are bad at feelings, self-deprecation, Eddie is toxic and doesn’t know why, infidelity (but not technically), no happy ending.

The house is quiet as the front door creaks open, you’re quick to slip inside—chill of the October air nipping at your back. The lights are all off and your arms curl around your exposed midsection. It was colder outside but still chilly in your home, your parents out of town on a romantic anniversary road trip.

You sigh, tossing your keys on the table to run around searching for in the morning, and make your way to your room with a quick detour at the thermostat to turn on the heat. It’s a blind fumble to reach the antique lamp, once you enter your bedroom, but you refuse to use the overhead light. It would cast your room in non-aesthetic lighting, and you’re already annoyed, pissed off and depressed enough.

An irritated breath is huffed from your lips, top lip curling as you recall the very reason for your negative attitude, hands yanking your top right over your head. It’s only when you’re in your pajamas, faced with your own reflection as you prepare to remove the makeup that had been so empowering to put on but you can now feel on your face like an unpleasant mask, that you allow the hot tears of anger and hurt to fall. You almost want to laugh at yourself, mouth curling into a bitter smile as you swipe the ponds cream all over your face. As you massage it in, making sure to focus on your eyes, the smile wavers, corners tugging down as moisture still leaks from your clenched eyelids.

You don’t have to be mean to yourself, you shouldn't. Not when the guy you’re in love with already does such a good job of it.

You purse your lips, trying to hold back sobs as you recall the images of him all over a girl you didn’t know at a party he’d convinced you to go to. You couldn’t even describe her, couldn’t remember what she looked like—all you saw was your Eddie, the guy who drove you to and picked you up from work, took you on cute dates involving picnic baskets, fields, lakes, empty lots to stargaze in, nearly empty movie auditoriums so the two of you could canoodle, your tongues tasting each other as the two lovers on screen professed their undying love.

He even bought you stuffed animals, would pretend to give them life and personalities to go with it, all to amuse you. Did arts and fucking crafts with you.

But anytime you so much as brought up the status of your relationship, he’d wave it off, claiming labels were for Petri dishes, not people.

You were his girl and that’s all that mattered.

It’s what you’d repeated in your head the first time you’d seen him playing with Bianca Anderson’s fingers while the two of them were tucked away in the corner of the hideout, after one of Corroded Coffin’s sets. And again when you’d stumbled out of Rick’s house party to see him laid out on the grass, his head in the lap of a former cheerleader from high school he used to admire, her head bowed to connect their lips and his hands in her hair.

By the time he was tugging at Tina’s hair, playfully shouldering her while they stood in front of the bonfire at another gathering, you’d stopped repeating it in your head. Not even when you watched her lead him to her car.

You lost count of how many times Eddie had made other girls his, too.

And like some pathetic worm with no backbone, you let him. Okay—it’s not like you could physically stop them, though tonight your drink had ended up all over him, maybe that put a little stutter in his plans. But there wouldn’t be a too if you just fucking stopped.

Just . . .stopped.

Stopped taking his calls, stopped answering your door for him, your window, let your co-worker take over the counter the moment he stepped in, stopped looking for his car, stopped thinking about him and that stupid fucking dimple, stopped thinking about how special you felt when he had your naked body pressed against his under the warmth of blankets, his rough fingertips tracing over your sweaty shoulder. How he’d always get so tender, pull you even closer and whisper how much you meant to him while pressing slow kisses to your face. How he never wanted to lose you, wouldn’t know what to do, couldn’t live. It was the sweetest agony.

Most of all, you wish he would stop being there in the morning, all soft breaths and fluttering lashes as he tried to be as close to you as he could, even in a deep slumber. It’s how you know he means it. He means everything he tells you. There is truth to those sweet nothings, declarations, proclamations. You know it.

And that’s why it all hurt so bad, because you know he cares about you as much as he says he does and he still always fucking hurts you, always breaks your heart, but because you know he cares, you’d just let him back in like some fucking clown.

He gets to break you over and over again and you let him because he always puts the pieces back together.

You know what people say about you—everyone knows the two of you are involved and they’d see him out and about with others. Your fumbling answers about what the two of you aren’t just make it clear to them that you’re a doormat and you can’t even deny it. Just avoid their pitiful looks thrown your way.

After washing your face, you take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror; eyes rimmed red, lashes clustering together, face etched in misery. When you can’t stand the person on the other side of the mirror any longer, you flip the light switch and leave the bathroom, pick your favorite tape to listen to, set the volume low and slip into bed.

You’d teetered with the idea of smoking a little, but that would just stave off the heartbreak. Might as well feel it in the moment while you still have the sense of mind before—

Knock, knock, knock.

A humorless chuckle escapes you, muffled into your pillow as your eyes slip shut. Sometimes by the front door, just about always by the window. You think it’s another one of his little relationship doorstops; can’t be serious with you if he uses your window to sneak into your house, it’s much too intimate to walk through your front door.

Of course, he can’t let you have a moment of peace, not even when you’re down. No, he has to fix you now. That’s how the toxic cycle goes. So, dutifully, you play your part, though this time, things have changed.

You toss the blankets off and pad over to your window but you don’t open it right away. Instead, you stare at him. Take him in.

Eddie is in different attire, shirt and jeans swapped out for one of his old club shirts and some sweats. His hair isn’t as voluminous, it’s wet. He’d had to shower to rid himself of your wine cooler. There’s no trace of the Eddie you saw at the party, this one has eyes filled with sorrow and depth, almost like he’s known nothing else. You know better.

Please, he mouths through the glass. You stare a beat longer before the latch is unlocked and he’s hastily pulling it open, clambering in ungracefully.

As you watch him gain his footing, part of you wants to taunt yourself about how you’ve let this man, so below your league and wonderful, ruin your life. He’s hot, sure, but you're hotter. That’s just the truth. You denied it a lot at the beginning of your shitty cherished relationship, felt so insecure to have a man like him paying you attention when he can have everyone. But he was no man. And he still had everyone along with you. Those pitting glances weren’t just because of what you let him put you through, it was because they knew you could do better.

For some reason, the idiot who got his shoe caught on the window sill is the one your heart wants.

God, you hate him.

Rolling your eyes, you go back to your bed, climbing back into your warm blankets. Your back is to him, yet you can still feel his hesitance, see the look on his face, how his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His stare is intense but it doesn’t unnerve you. Not this time. You feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind you.

There’s still some distance between the two of you, you can tell he’s uncertain. Then, he scuttles forward until he’s pressed to your back, arm slipping around your middle to drag you impossibly closer.

He’s surrounding you, the scent of Eddie’s all-in-one shampoo and body wash filling your nostrils, underlying smell of the joint he’d smoked to calm his nerves before coming over, and the cheap body spray he’d soaked himself in to try and hide it.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “Swear I didn’t. Couldn’t.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at the poster of Roxette pinned to your wall. His arm tightens around you and you can feel his heart hammering against your back.

“I-I couldn’t do that to you,” he continues and you huff, that bitter smile from earlier returning. Eddie goes stiff behind you, but he has nothing to worry about. You won’t kick him out, won't toss him to the curb like you should. You both know you won’t. He knows you should, knows he hurts you and he honest to god doesn’t know why. Couldn’t tell anyone to save his own life.

He just—he just fucks shit up. It’s not self-sabotage because Eddie knows he risks losing you and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t ever want to exist in a world where you don’t want him, don’t want to be with him.

But he still does it anyway. Still goes and kisses girls knowing you’re watching, does worse when you’re not.

The worst part—other than hurting you—is that he doesn’t even want them. Not really. Other than in that moment, Eddie couldn’t give a single shit about them beyond being a Good Samaritan. It’s you he wants all the time.

You’re the only constant thing he needs in his life, wants around him all the time, craves, lusts after, loves, cherishes. For the rest of his life. But Eddie hurts you, and he doesn’t know why.

That’s why he can’t be your boyfriend. Evidently, he’d be a shit one. Not that he’s doing a spectacular job being your…whatever it is he was, whatever the two of you were.

Yes, he always fucks up, but he keeps part of you safe from him by not being your boyfriend. One day, you’ll leave him.

He knows it. It scares the shit out of him and he prays to deities he doesn’t really believe in that it won’t happen, that he’ll get this shit together and make right by you, but he knows you’ll leave him. You genuinely deserve better.

“I wish I didn’t know you,” Eddie tenses once more at your voice, at your statement. It’s said with nonchalance, like you were commenting on the weather. He relaxes, heart clenching in pain as he somehow holds you even tighter.

“I know.”

“I hate that I love you. Wish I would just stop.” You shimmy around until you’re facing him, Eddie’s hold on you loosens to allow it, and when you’re settled, he pulls you close again, your nose nudging along the neckline of his shirt.

“I know.” He whispers out again, vision blurring with unshed tears. He loves you, too. Neither of you ever say it directly, just make references to it.

“I will, though. Maybe not tonight, but I won’t always love you.” It’s said with certainty. You’ll take this treatment for now, but you know you won’t forever. Despite the pathetic place you’d found yourself in tonight, again, you’re making strides. Gone was the loser who would just watch him betray you after spending the entire day making you feel like the two of you were the only ones on earth who mattered. Tonight, you’d stepped in. You were growing more self aware. Soon, you would stop answering the door. Stop answering his calls. Stop loving him.

And you’d look back and cringe, maybe laugh with your friends about how stupid and naive you’d been. You’d move on, too. Meet someone who treats you as good as Eddie does when he isn’t sucking another girl’s face. They won’t kiss or fuck anyone else, they’ll only ever know you from the moment that spark ignites. You might worry from time to time, effects from Eddie, but they’ll gently coax it out of you, build your trust up and one day you won’t worry. All you’ll know is their love.

Yeah, you’d stop loving him.

Eddie makes an indistinguishable sound, you know he’s fighting sniffles. Can hear the emotion in his voice, “I know.”

You nuzzle your face into his chest before your cheek settles there, listening to the fast paced beating coming from within it and you wonder if it’ll happen tomorrow. If you’ll wake up, see Eddie sleeping in your bed, and have your first thought be how much you want him out of it and away from you without a trace of fondness for him. You’ll just wake up and not love him anymore.

You slip a leg between his to tangle your limbs, breathing in his scent as deeply as you can when your eyelids flutter shut.

And while you spend your last moments of consciousness hoping tonight’s the last night you’ll let him hold you, Eddie spends the rest of it wide awake, and hoping. Hoping if he doesn’t fall asleep, he won’t wake up to you telling him you don’t love him. Hoping he’ll miraculously become a better person for you overnight. Hoping he won’t lose you.

Hoping you’ll always be his girl.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

#Eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction

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lucrativesoul · 1 year

Text

Roadstop

summary: your car breaks down on a deserted road at midnight. you have no signal, it’s getting colder, and you are five miles away from help; you’re stranded. a stranger offers his help to you, and you find a way to pass the time.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 7.8k

warnings: smut, oral (male recieving), bondage (very softcore), don’t trust strangers this much

a/n: i kind of hate this title and i also don’t love this one but I hope i made it work. going to immediately start one that i’m actually into. this one’s shorter than the last one, but they might all fall around the same word count from now on. again, i can’t stress how thankful i am for the love on ‘the assistant’ as well as my headcanon blurbs, 900+ notes on the fic and 300+ on the headcanons, you guys are too nice. i can’t wait to come back soon with the next fic! enjoy :3

You thought back for a brief second, clearing your head as best you could to gauge your current situation.

In the backseat of a tinted SUV, you were straddled over a thick set of thighs, that of which belonged to a man twice your build, who was bound at the wrists in front of him. The waistband of his jeans were dangerously low and his shirt was somewhere in the front seat. His breathing was shaky and he was looking at you with hooded eyelids, loving every moment of this situation.

What was the catalyst to this exact interaction? Let’s see…

–

Earlier

As badly as you wanted to scream, to cry, to blame everyone else but yourself, this was all on you, and you knew it. There were plenty of ways to avoid this situation.

Your car was toast. Literally. The steam was coming out in soft puffs, and you were thanking every deity up there that it was only steam and not smoke, because it was dead winter, too cold for even snow to fall, and you did not want to get out of your car. How can a car even overheat in 10 degree weather?

The road trip back home was close to three hours and you were nearing the second one when a light started flashing on your dashboard. Inclined to ignore it, but knowing the risks of doing so, you pulled over, hoping for a brief stop.

The road was dark. It made you a little cautious to step out, but this wasn't a common place for people to pull over, but you were unsure if you could make it the next five miles to the rest stop. It was only a two lane road, trees on both sides of you. The worst, you decided, was a deer deciding to dash out and body slam you. You should move quick enough to avoid that.

Looking behind to make sure no one was suddenly driving by, you briskly opened your door and walked to the front of the car. Finding the latch and pulling it aside, you lifted the hood, and a puff of metallic smelling steam hit your face. You backed up, letting it clear, before going in again. Well, you observed, the engine is definitely still there.

Shutting it and shuffling back to your car, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. Should you call a tow service? You didn't know where you were. Should you call the police? They would probably tell you to call the non-emergency line and then tell you to call a tow service. Should you call your friend? She would probably call you stupid, then tell you to call a tow service. That one was the most comfortable, though.

It was, after all, her fault you were here. It’s easy enough to cast the blame on the friend that moved this far away that you had to plan out a whole weekend just to hang out. But, once again, it was on you for deciding to leave this late.

She answered after one ring. “Hey, I’m in trouble.”

“Of course you are. What happened now?” She didn’t sound incredibly concerned.

“I don’t know. I think my car’s overheating. I’m scared to keep driving it.”

She gasped. “It’s only been like… an hour and a half? You’re probably in the woods.”

“If darkness and trees means woods then yes, that’s precisely where I am.”

“You need to get a tow, or something.” Knew it. “Do you see mile markers?”

You leaned forward in your seat, straining to see something that isn’t there. “No, I can’t see. I don't remember passing any either. I’m a few miles away from a rest stop, but, I really don’t–”

Dial tone.

Pulling your phone away from your ear to look at the screen, you wanted to scream even more now. “Fuck!” You shouted out to nobody. No service. You wasted your last few moments of contact, and now you had nothing.

You sat for a moment, stilling your beating heart and trying to think rationally. Walking was out of the question. You nearly froze just going to open the hood. You could wait for service to come back, probably in waves, you might lose a call again. It was the only choice. The call to 911 would be quick, and if you lost service, they would know where you are from pinging you, and if they couldn’t reach you again, they would come find you. It was the best you could hope for.

Settling back into your seat, the last few wisps of orange light disappearing behind the trees, you were ready to wait.

–

You dragged your hands up and down the man’s torso, watching his muscles constrict and hearing delicious whines pour from his lips. He threw his head back onto the seat behind him, unable to look away from your body for even a second, even to blink. You could see the way his jaw tensed and relaxed, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he obeyed you, and he didn’t say a word.

You knew he was staring at the way your body curved and dipped, the way your frame was visible as you had also taken your shirt off, left in only a bra and the jacket that he had put on over you. He was probably ready to cum untouched at just the idea of you wearing his jacket alone, nevermind with nothing on underneath.

Your fingers teased at the waistband of his pants, flitting your fingertips back and forth over the button of his jeans. You could see the way his erection was pressing hard through them, twitching ever so often as you kept your eyes on him. You, yourself, were desperate to pull it out and put your mouth on it, but you couldn’t let him see that.

“It’s tempting,” You whispered into the space between you two. “I want to take it right now,” He strained again, both his hard cock and his upper body, his arms slightly tugging at the restraints. “But I need you to beg for it…” You palmed his dick hard, and his lips parted in a moan. The sound made you even wetter than you already were. His hips bucked upward, moving the both of you, but with one steady hand to the chest, he was still.

You knew well enough that he could bust out of the restraints at any second, he was strong enough to do that and probably tie you up even more securely than you had tied him. But, the mere idea that he was sitting there, being a good boy for you and letting you have him as he was, well, that idea alone had you foaming at the mouth, wanting to take control of him.

This wasn’t the first time you were making someone sit still and be a good boy for you, but it was the first time that a man had you dizzy trying to enforce those rules in the first place.

“Tell me,” You spoke, a sultry look in your eyes, you leaned in just a tad to get in his face. “Do you need it?”

He sighed out as if he had been holding his breath. “Yes, please, I need it so bad…” He nearly tripped over his words trying to force them out, showing you how bad he needed you to touch him, to suck him off, to ride him. Yes, you needed it to, but you couldn’t give it to him without a little bit of teasing involved.

“Do you now…” Your hands wandered up his torso again, fingers gently wrapping around the base of his neck, now even squeezing, and he tipped his head back with a sigh. You peeled your hands off, tracing his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms, and settled your hands over his. “If you keep being good, you can be released and touch me.” You felt his muscles strain again. “Not yet, though.”

He swallowed with the implication. Moving your hips forward, you grinded down onto him, making him screw his eyes shut and groan. Your own heartbeat quickened at the action, and for your own sake as well, you were going to need to speed this up.

You leaned forward once more, mouth next to his ear, lips ghosting around the shell. “You’ll be my good boy and let me suck it, won’t you?”

A shrill whine, then, “Yes, yes, I’ll be your good boy, I promise, please, you can suck it. Please,” His voice was cutting in and out between a whisper and its full depth, you could tell he was worked up, and while you loved the chase of it all, you couldn’t help but to give in and treat yourself, as well.

Your hands fell to his jeans again, hovering over the button. You pressed a kiss into his jawline. “Good boy.”

–

Earlier

This was much more boring than you anticipated. You wanted to scroll through your phone so badly, but you knew you needed to conserve battery. There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment in your car, merely your overnight bag in the back with your clothes in it, your laptop buried at the bottom for work, and your water bottle which was almost empty now. You kept checking every 5 minutes for a service signal, watching as the percent in the corner slowly ticked down.

It was growing colder by the minute in your car, and you had a blanket over your lap trying to conserve what you could. You felt like you were trapped in the wild, stranded with no food, no communication, when realistically you were only a hair outside of the nearest civilization.

No one had driven by yet. It was odd for no one to be taking this road at this time, at least one or two people would be coming by, maybe even a freight truck, but so as your luck worked out, there was not a soul tonight.

You were getting tired now, but your nerves were too lit up to allow yourself to fall asleep. Resting your head back against the car seat, staring out into darkness, your mind began to wander.

How many deer were out in these woods right now? Probably none, with the way your eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness now, you could spot one a mile away. It would be the only movement. What was your friend doing? Was she still trying to call you? Clearly she hadn’t called anyone for help, as it’s been a rough 30 minutes since you lost service, and the nearest city was just outside of where you sat. They would have gotten there in 15 max. Was it possible to freeze to death in just a few hours within the confines of your car, even though you were nowhere near that point yet?

Just then, your head shot forward as you spotted light behind you. Finally, a person! You straightened out and pulled the blanket off of you, debating if you should step out or not. That would definitely get their attention, but what if they were in the right lane and they hit you? Surely there would be no point in waiting for signal after that.

You didn’t even need to make a decision, as you put your hand on the door handle to step out into the brisk air, the headlights suddenly swerved and became aligned with you. They grew bigger and bigger, you were sure they were going to hit you, but they stopped.

You stared, scared, but knew this was your only shot at help. You stepped out.

The car that pulled up behind you stayed running, lights still shining, and you squinted to see past them. It looked like an SUV, much bigger than your own sedan, and could definitely do this drive without overheating no problem.

The driver’s side door opened, but you only saw the silhouette of it, still trying to block the headlights. You lifted your hand to your eyes to do so, and you saw a man get out. Ideally, for safety, you would have wanted a woman, but you couldn’t be picky when this was the first person you saw for almost an hour.

He walked over to you, and placed himself in front of the headlight so you could see him. Now, backlit, you could see the bulky build of a man, donned in a leather jacket with a fur collar, long hair falling down to his cheekbones, his breaths rolling off in slow puffs. He stood a good distance away from you, probably aware of how you might be feeling in this situation.

“You need help?” No shit, you wanted to answer, but couldn’t choke the words up.

“Uh, yeah, I got stuck.” You turned briefly to look at the car. “It overheated. I lost signal to call for help.”

The man nodded, walking around you and over to the hood of your car. He bent over and lifted it, messing around in there for a few seconds. You took one step closer to him, hugging yourself for warmth, now missing the inside of your car.

He shut it suddenly and walked back over. “You probably just have no antifreeze left. I don’t have any in my car, though. Do you know if you happen to have any?”

You stood staring at him for another second. “I’m gonna guess no, considering I’m not totally sure what you mean.” You could see him clearly now, standing in front of his headlights. His face was covered in dark shadows from his hair and the contours of his face, his deep brow casting darkness into his eyes, but you could still see they were blue. He had on a dark t-shirt, and it didn’t leave much to the imagination to picture the figure underneath. You met his eyes again.

He just nodded. “That’s alright. Not something you tend to prepare for.” He walked closer to you, but you stood your ground and let him approach you. “Want to come down the road with me to get some? There’s a 24/7 convenience just a few miles away. I can have you out of here within the hour.” You said nothing. You weren’t sure if you entirely wanted to do that, but you also didn’t want him to not come back at all. As if sensing your inner turmoil, he stuck his hand out towards you. “Leon Kennedy. I work for the state. I’m on the way home from a detail.”

You slowly extended your own hand, telling him your name. His hand was warm. You didn’t want to let go. “Detail? Are you a cop?”

He shrugged. “Sort of. I don’t want to leave you here. You should warm up.” You looked back at his car, still running, positive that the heat was blasting, and you gave in.

“Okay. But don’t think about trying anything. I can put up a hell of a fight, you know.”

He laughed. “You have my word.”

You walked around to the passengers side and hopped in, hoisting yourself up into the surprisingly high cabin. You looked at the dash as he settled in, getting comfortable with the space. This was a much newer car than you were used to.

His phone was connected to the bluetooth, music rumbling quietly out of the speakers. Deftones. Maybe I can trust him for now.

You subconsciously settled into the seat, the warmth enveloping you. The ride was much smoother than your own car, and you knew you weren’t going to stop the comparisons until this experience was over. You kept an eye to the left of you, still needing to be alert, you were in a stranger's car after all, even though you knew his name and job, that didn’t mean anything.

You saw him sneak a glance over at you, and you shot your eyes back down to the display on the dashboard.

“You like them?” He hit a button on the steering wheel and turned the volume up a few notches. You could still hear him clearly.

“Of course.” You let the silence hang for a second. Testing the waters, “If it was country, I might have had to pull a tuck and roll.”

He barked another laugh. At least he wasn’t stoic. “You’re lucky you didn’t catch me on a Wednesday, then.” You giggled. After saying nothing else, he continued. “What brought you to this position anyways?”

You sighed. “One of my good friends lives out here, about an hour away or so. I was on my way home. I know I shouldn’t have left this late, but in my defense, I didn;t know my car was going to overheat, so…”

He hummed. “That’s not your fault. It happens. Can’t prepare for those things, again.”

You looked out the window to the pitch black nothingness as you rode past. You looked back over at him, he had his right forearm on the console while his left hand steered. “You seemed too prepared to stop, though. What if I killed you?”

His mouth quirked, and you couldn’t help but repeat it. “I could handle it if you tried to.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I could have surprised you. I’m stronger than I look. Men love to doubt the ones that are smaller than them.”

The smile on his face didn’t falter. “And what are you capable of against a man like me, then?”

“I don’t think you want to find out. I’m dominating, you know.” Wait… what? You truly didn’t mean it to sound like that, but you couldn’t suck the words back up. You just furrowed your brows in frustration at yourself, and blamed the lack of sleep, the cold, your aggravation, whatever you could. Regardless of the words you couldn’t take back, Leon didn’t stop smiling. He turned his head a degree in your direction, and you could still see him out of your peripheral.

A few minutes later, the convenience came into view and he pulled into the lot. You squinted at the bright lights of the parking lot.

“Hang tight, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You only nodded, watching him stalk away into the building. You decided, seeing his full body in the lights, if you had met him under any other circumstances, you wouldn’t peg him as the helpful type of guy. His gait was strong, like it said Don’t fuck with me, or else. It almost made you giddy, knowing that you were the one being helped when he wouldn’t have otherwise. Like, in a romance book, when the bad boy doesn’t like anyone, but likes you.

It wasn’t as uncomfortable as you had thought it would be. Maybe he was lightening up his personality so he wouldn’t scare you on purpose. If he really was just a helpful guy, the last thing he would want is to scare a young girl in the middle of nowhere at midnight.

You were getting comfortable in the seat now, the heat wrapping around you, making you dread having to go back out into your cold car. You sighed even harder when you remembered that you still had a long ride to go before you could even go to bed.

Leon walked out of the store and back to the car, bottle of antifreeze in hand, and you tensed up when the cold air hit your skin as he opened the door.

He watched you as he lowered himself into the seat. “I didn’t mean it literally. You could have moved.”

You shrugged with a smile as he closed the door again. “I didn’t need to.”

After a few minutes of chatting and listening to music, you arrived back at your car after needing to loop around to get back onto the right side of the road. You sighed and hit your head back against the seat of the car.

“What’s the sigh for? You get to go now.” Leon unblocked his seatbelt and took the bottle from where he left it on the console.

“Yeah, but it’s cold. I don’t want to get out.”

Leon grinned softly. “So don’t. I’ll be right back.”

You sat and soaked up the heat while he went back over to your car, popped the hood, and disappeared behind it for a few minutes. You could only wonder how cold he must have been right now. Probably not very, maybe only his hands and neck, that jacket looks warm enough. You were stupid to only put a zip up on.

You looked down at your lap, then your gaze wandered to the interior of the car. It was very clean here. Leon did seem like the type to want to take care of his vehicle, and you were afraid to make any sort of move in case you put dirt on anything.

The backseat was empty, not even an extra piece of clothing (which there was plenty of in your own backseat), and you wondered how it was even possible for someone to be this neat.

You looked back through the windshield to see that Leon was still working in your hood. Your eyes fell lower to the glove compartment.

Realistically, this wouldn’t be the worst thing you could do right now, since you didn’t know Leon, and you could pass it off by wanting to assure yourself that you were safe, but at the same time, you felt guilty even thinking about it, since Leon had been nothing but nice to you so far. He trusted you enough to leave you alone in his pristine car while he helped you out.

That alone made you shift your gaze back up, pushed the thought of snooping down, and settled in to see Leon walking back to his car.

“Alright, you should be all set now. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again for another long while.” He shut the door next to him, and you gazed out at your car, making no moves.

“How much?” You rolled your head over to look at him.

“Huh?” He furrowed his brow.

“The antifreeze. How much was it?”

He breathed out a laugh, not moving much. “I don’t want your money.”

You shrugged. “You didn’t need to do this for me, this is the least I could do for your help.”

Leon simply looked at you. “I stopped because I wanted to help. I don’t want your money.”

You stared at him. His eyes were half lidded, a small smile was gracing his features. He was lit up from the light of his display screen, still softly playing Deftones. You could see the texture of his face, his lips, his hair. He was unmoving under the scrutiny of your gaze; yet so were you.

“I can put up a fight. I’ll make you take it.”

His smile grew. “So the legend goes, as you’ve told me.” He moved his right arm to come back and rest on the console in between you two. “I’m not going to accept it, though.”

“So, what? Am I gonna have to force you to take it? Cause I’m not leaving until you do.” You settled right back into the seat. Leon kept smiling at you. “I’m defiant. And I’ll get my way. If I have to slap you around to take it.” Leon hummed and quirked an eyebrow at your words. It only added fuel to your confidence fire. “Even if I have to tie you down to prevent you from fighting.”

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised, showing you meant business, but he remained still. “Is that so?” You nodded. You saw him tighten his grip around the steering wheel, but the action didn’t frighten you. You could hear in his tone that he was mostly relaxed. You almost felt bad for being like this– it was late at night and he, too, was on his way home, but you simply couldn’t let this good deed go unrewarded.

“Open that.” His voice cut through your thoughts, his tone light, but his voice deep. You met his eyes to see where he was looking, which was in the direction of the glove compartment. See, you told yourself, good karma can aid curiosity. You looked at it and hesitated a moment, trying to scan your brain as quickly as possible to see if this would be a trick. After a few seconds, when you thought of nothing, you reached over.

Tumbling forward as soon as you swung the compartment open was a small black bag, maybe about the size of a water bottle. It stopped on the door itself, and you made no move to grab it. You simply looked over at Leon.

He was watching you intensely, his smile had disappeared, but his look was not stern or angry. It made your stomach twist with… something, but what exactly, you couldn’t tell. You slowly swung your gaze back over to it.

“I hope those weren’t empty threats you were throwing at me.” You kept your eyes on the bag, but the pieces started falling in place around you. In a whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear, Leon said, “Can’t you show me what you are capable of?”

Ice and fire ran through your veins simultaneously as you reached out to grab the bag, noticing upon touching it that it was smooth, silky. Holding it in your hands, you rotated it to find the opening. You could feel Leon staring at you.

Finding the opening and flipping it downwards, you held onto the bag as you dumped the contents into your hands. A tightly wound bundle of black rope fell out.

You couldn’t form words for a minute, struggling to find air in your lungs. The rope was just as soft as the bag was, and you knew exactly why, exactly what the use intended for this was. You turned your head slowly to look over at Leon again. His head had rolled back to rest on the back of the car seat, but his gaze never left yours.

You found the energy to speak. “You come prepared for these types of situations?”

A slow smile blossomed on his features again. “I don’t usually need it. I guess, I never find myself wanting to use it.” He turned his head, looking back at the dash now, almost embarrassed at his words. A smirk was fighting its way through on your features. He licked his lips, then turned back to you. “I think now… maybe I do.”

You breathed a laugh, and turned the bundle over in your hands. “How am I going to hold up to my word if you want to use this on me?”

Leon leaned forward just a tad, looking you deep in the eyes. The blue light coming off of the digital display screen lit up his face, and though color was distorted, his cheeks had more hue to them.

“I don’t want to tie you up…” You tilted your head up at the sudden realization. You held eye contact.

“A big man like you? I didn’t imagine you’d be wanting me to do that to you…” You spoke slowly, not trying to give the impression that you were against the idea. Because, truly, you weren’t, at all. The idea of having him bound for you made your lungs cut the air supply short and had your knees weak. The power you felt sitting in this seat was immeasurable, hearing that the man who was twice your size wanted you to remove his sense of control, well, it had you thrumming with anticipation.

Leon huffed a laugh. He looked down, obviously slightly ashamed at having admitted this. “Well, you haven’t had much time to get to know me.”

You shifted in your seat, turning to him, bending slightly to get him to look into your eyes again. “So tell me, then. I have the time to listen.”

He attempted a shrug, and leaned back at the same time so you could see his face clearer now. Some of his hair was covering his eyes, but you left it, though you did think about moving it for him. “I’m 27, I used to be a cop, still affiliated though, I do some late night stuff at the station…” He looked over. “I did just want to help you. Even if there was no one in the car, I probably would have stopped anyway.” You nodded, listening to every word. “I…” He trailed off, looking for the words to say. “I don’t… do much else. I’m not that interesting.”

“You have no girlfriend or wife?” You whispered, and though you knew, hoped, the answer would be no, you wanted to know why he thought the answer was no.

He shook his head, as predicted. “I don’t seem to have luck.” He laughed lowly, almost in a self-deprecating manor.

“Well, I hope this isn’t always how you try to pick up women, it’s kind of scary, you know.” You laughed, and he smiled with you.

“I never particularly bothered to go looking. I just figured they would come around.”

“You can’t always bet on fate like that, it might not get you anywhere.” You shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow. “It did tonight, though.”

You nodded, seeing the irony in the night. After a second of silence, you slightly shifted your position again. “So, now what? A man like you has me in your car, holding rope, that you already had in here, by the way, and you’re telling me you want me to use it to show you what I’m capable of.”

He shrugged and leaned back, breaking eye contact for a moment. A small smile played on his lips. “Well…” He sighed. “I think it will keep you warmer than you would be in your car.”

The two of you migrated to the backseat without another word. Something shifted in the air, some silent agreement had settled in between you two, and the moment the doors shut behind you, mouths on one another, heat rising, hands slithering in between, leaving no inch of skin left untouched. Leon was quick to snake his warm hands up your shirt and hike it over your head, but you let him, followed quickly by his own. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss became sloppy, greedy, you would have succumbed to it then and there if there wasn’t a promise to uphold.

You raked your hand through his hair, soft as silk, and gripped at the base of his head, making him moan into the kiss. The hand he placed on your waist gripped the flesh, and with one swift movement, you swung your leg over his to straddle him. It was already like he was at your mercy before you even took anything away from him, and it only made him look all the more desperate for you.

The kiss broke, and for a second the two of you were just staring at each other. You watched the rise and fall of his chest, which you had discovered with your hands before even seeing it, that it was incredibly toned, and you almost didn’t even want to stop touching him. HIs hands rested on your hips, holding you in place on top of him, eyes full of lust.

He shook his head slowly, forming a thought. “Are you sure you weren’t in charge of fate to make me find you tonight?”

You grinned, running your hands up his torso, you just couldn’t stop yourself. “If I was, don’t you think I would have made it a little more convenient for us?”

He sighed at your touch, head rolling backwards, closing his eyes. After a low hum of satisfaction, he replied. “I guess so… What about fate the second time around?” Your hands slid up to his shoulders, feeling the texture underneath your palms, all of the skin and bone and muscle. You pushed yourself down into his lap, already feeling his hardening dick through his jeans, making him groan louder, and you sigh in relief.

“We haven’t even gotten started and you are already thinking of round two…” You leaned in, teasing a breath along his neck, then gently licking on his jawline. The skin of your stomach felt the heat that he was producing, and you pressed your bodies together, the contact feeling like bliss.

“I already know I’ll need you again.” He said in a whisper, and the sheer intensity that it caused within you made you lean in and bite the tender skin under his jaw, and he moaned, gripping your waist even tighter.

Your hands kept running along his skin, desperate to get even more contact between you two. Your mind was getting foggy with desire, needing to be as close to Leon as possible, as much as the small space in his backseat would allow. His fingers were starting to dip below the waistline of your pants, and while you almost let him slide them past, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled it out, remembering the reason you were in the backseat in the first place.

“Don’t forget why we’re here…” You mumbled into his ear, where you were still pressed up against him. You heard him sigh, as well as felt it, and finally pushed yourself off of him.

He looked up at you from under his half-lidded eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do, then. I’ll do anything.” His voice was breathy and low, and his hands came down to rest on the top of your thigh. You sat up as straight as you could, feeling all of the control get handed over to you in that one second. Involuntarily, a chill ran through your body. Cold air had hit your heated skin as you parted, as well as the added sensations that Leon was contributing to. He pushed himself up, leaned past you to the front seat, one hand steadying you on your lower back. When he fell back, he put the shoulders of his jacket over you.

He sighed as he leaned back, examining your frame as it rested over him, straightening your posture as the warmth fell around you. “Looks better on you anyway…”

You stared at him for another moment before your brain kicked into action. “Hold your hands out,” You whispered, and he obeyed. You reached behind you and grabbed the bundle of rope. “You’ll behave if I tie you up like this?”

“Yes…” He breathed out, watching your hands as they wrapped and knotted the rope around his wrists, not too tight, but he couldn’t slip out of it too easily. You felt a surge of confidence at the mere premonition of you tying up a huge, muscled man, submitting to your dominance. You felt heat pool in between your legs as his head fell back, his chest flexed, and the feeling of his hard cock poking you through his pants. You were suddenly glad your car gave out on you on this random night.

This brings you to your current position. Everything playing an equal hand in getting this man in his own backseat underneath you, staring up with sinful eyes. You weren’t sure what to do first, you wanted to do everything to this man, and let him do everything to you.

He had already professed his need for you to take him in your mouth, and you were itching to keep teasing him, but as a reward for not leaving you stranded, you were going to play nice with him.

HIs breathing was ragged and his eyes were locked on you, not daring to look away as your hands snaked closer and closer to the button on his jeans. Your fingers flitted over the tent in his pants, the sensation barely registering with him, and he bucked his hips up, but you pressed them back down by his hips.

“Patience… patience baby…” You murmured, not looking up from where your hands were dancing around letting him loose. He whined, and the sound traveled straight to your core, making you all the more desperate. As a second reward for obeying your command, you pressed your palm fully into his hardened cock, and he groaned and threw his head back. You smirked in response, now needing the skin on skin contact.

Your hands made quick work of the button and zipper, and he lifted his hips when you pulled down his waistband of both his jeans and underwear. His erection sprang out, slapping his toned stomach, and you felt saliva pooling in the corners of your mouth, slick gathering in between your legs, and Leon was almost shaking with anticipation.

You wrapped a delicate hand around his dick and he whined again, his chest shuddering with shallow breaths, sighing out profanities at the contact. He was so warm and hard in your hand, and even just the ginger strokes you were delivering had him crumbling under you.

The other hand that wasn't wrapped around him came up to brace yourself on his chest, and his skin matched the temperature of his throbbing girth. His tip was leaking profusely, and you brought your thumb up to press through it and spread it, which elicited another whimper from within him. The friction was dry, and you were sure it didn't feel the best for Leon, but there were no signs of pain in his expression, and if you kept this up long enough, he might cum from this alone.

He was of average length, but you were never one to complain, especially not in a situation like this, and it was a benefit when the attempt to deepthroat him came along, knowing it would make it easier. You couldn’t wait any longer, and even though watching him writhe under you was more pleasure than you expected, you needed more.

You leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his neck, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You made a brief note of how hot it was in the car now, probably all from him, and though it was completely dark outside, you were sure the windows were foggy. He sighed at your lips on his skin.

“Thank you for being so good to me,” You spoke softly to him, and you lifted your head to press your lips together, which he hungrily accepted. Your body fell forward slightly, your hand still balancing on his hard chest, and you could feel his arms in between the both of you, but he was not protesting.

You pulled away, but hovered over his face and pressed your foreheads together. He whispered, “Need you so bad…” heavily breathing onto your lips. You grinned, seeing he was quickly reaching the brink of his patience.

“I got you baby,” Another quick kiss, but you pulled away before he could deepen it. “You’re being a good boy for me.” He quietly moaned at the praise, and let you remove yourself from on top of him. You hopped off his lap and sunk to your knees in between his legs, looking up once last time to see his pretty face before ducking your head, and licking a thick stripe up the length of his cock.

His groan was louder than it had been before, and you felt his whole body shudder with his breaths. The saliva that had been gathering in your mouth coated him easily, and when your tongue met the tip, with a swipe to collect the precum (which resulted in another sharp whine), you let all of your spit pour over your lips and leak down the sides, which you hastily swept up with your hand, and continued to pump his dick with.

Every breath that he released was paired with some sort of noise, whether it be a groan, a whine, a whimper, anything that you were doing to him right now was causing him to quickly become unwound, and just seeing him fall apart under your hands was causing your strokes to become harder, quicker, and you stopped refusing him to buck his hips in your hand because you loved seeing how desperate he was becoming. You could see the veins in his forearms and biceps, the flexing of his arms against the rope around his wrists, and it made you weaker to know he was the only person keeping him within those restraints, and he could flip the power dynamic at any moment if he wanted to. But, he didn’t, and he let himself be dominated.

With another lick from base to tip, your lips closed over his head, our tongue dipped and swirled around the soft skin, the tangy salt of his precum coating your tastebuds, and at once, you took his entirety into your mouth. A rough gasp came from Leon as you swallowed him whole, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling every ridge and bump. Your hand continued to work below where you could reach, giving gentle squeezes, and your other hand occasionally worked his balls, causing him to throw his head back every few seconds.

You were reveling in his taste at this moment, every bead of precum that spurted out of his tip was lapped up instantly, mixing in with your spit as you took him in your mouth, your tongue studying and memorizing his shape and size. You sucked him down like it was your last moment to ever be with him, hoping you would be able to find yourself in this position with him again.

“Fuck… fuck, you feel so good…” Leon couldn’t contain the words spilling out of his mouth, he was losing sanity it seemed with every movement you made with your tongue, every stroke your hand delivered, and every time you opened your throat to shove him as far back as you could. He would whimper every time you stifled a gag at trying to deepthroat his length, loving the way you worked past pain just to have more of him.

You could feel so much heat and wetness within yourself, and as much as you wanted to relieve your own pressure, you knew you wouldn't be done with Leon after you made him cum.

After another hit to the back of the throat with his tip, you heard him whine out, “I’m so… I’m so close, fuck–” paired with more gasps and whimpers. His fists were balled up so tight, the rope was straining against his flexing, and his mouth hung open as he watched you take him all.

Your hand that wasn’t on his cock was gripping his thick thigh, feeling it twitch underneath your palm. You gripped it tighter, deciding against an urge to want to edge him, not able to fight your own need to taste him.

After another lick, you released him from your mouth and resorted to stroking him so you could talk and breathe for a moment. “How close are you, baby?” Your breathing was heavy, and you could feel the spit hanging off your lips, still connected in thin strings to his tip.

He gasped again at the feeling of cool air touching his wet dick. “So… so close,” He bucked his hips again into your hands and you let him, liking watching him chase his own release.

“Where do you want it, huh? I’ll let you decide.” You kept working his dick while he tried his hardest to contain himself.

He groaned, clearly struggling to speak through all of the sensations. “I… I, oh, god, anywhere…” His head was back against the seat again, and this time it seemed to stay there while you kept touching him. Underneath his arms, you could see his torso tensing and relaxing with the way his whole body was pulsing, and even through the darkness you could tell he was toned, insanely so, you could see the rigid outlines of ab muscles where his arms weren’t blocking them. Sharp lines contoured his hips where they dipped into his pelvis, akin to a rainbow with a pot of gold at the end that you currently had in your hands, dripping with precum and saliva. You couldn’t take it. You needed to see him blissed out.

You moved your hand back down to the base and planted your flat tongue on the underside of his cock, licking all the way up to the tip. “Come on, cum for me, I’ll let you…” With quick movements and the occasional lick to his tip, you brought him closer and closer to his release, and you could see it written all over his face whenever he put his head back up to look down at you. His brows were furrowed, his mouth open, and you could see the glint on his face from sweat.

“Shit, oh, fuck, I–I’m coming,--” Leon rasped out as much as he could through his thick breaths, body convulsing the second he hit the threshold of his release. You felt it the same time you saw it, his dick throbbed under your palm and a rope of hot white cum spurted upward, landing on his stomach, some on his hands, and yours. You hastily pressed your mouth to the tip, feeling it coat your tongue, the roof of your mouth, drip to the back of your throat. You kept your tongue pressed to the underside of the head, feeling that, too, pulse with his orgasm. He was groaning in tandem with this happening, and you lapped up everything he had to offer, the salty, hot, viscous liquid sitting heavy in your mouth. You choked back a gag with the swallow, but it made it down, and you cleaned your hand, his twitching dick, and wherever it landed on him by licking it up. He whimpered at the feeling of your tongue on his hands.

“You looked so good for me,” You whispered into the air as you slowly rose from your position, and hovered over him. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me like this…” You looked down at him, spent, panting, eyes lazily making eye contact with you, but you could see so much more in his gaze.

A second passed before either of you spoke again. Without moving too far, you brought a hand down to untie the rope, and his hands came to rest over your thigh once they were free. The rope lay discarded on the floor.

“We still have the rest of the night… don’t we?” Your stomach turned at his implication, he still wanted you, and he was still ready to keep going. Your hand came up to gently touch the side of his neck, thumb tracing the edge of his jawline.

“We have however long you want. I’m not done with you.”

He grinned, his eyes opened a little further this time, and his hands left your thighs to hold your face as he kissed you deeply, blissfully ignoring your phone incessantly ringing, abandoned in the front seat.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #fanfiction

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enha-stars · 8 months

Text

✧ Invisible String — Soulmate AU

Pairing: non-idol!jay x fem!reader (fluff)

Summary: In a world where Soulmates exist, you never truly cared about the phenomenon. It would happen, and you would have no control over it. But when you visit your aunt in the winter, you realize that having a Soulmate isn’t so bad. Not when he’s so perfect for you.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, kissing, some swearing, suggestive, fluff, the smallest amount of angst if you squint (wc: 9.2k)

Soulmate Masterlist

The cold February air hugs you tight, kissing your cheeks softly as it paints your face cold. If you had known that it would be this chilly, you would have dressed warmer.

But you didn’t know, because no one told you.

It was a surprise trip your parents had planned, wanting to take a break from your mundane, ordinary lives. So they packed up the car and drove two hours south, stopping only when they reached your aunt’s driveway.

Now, you were waiting on the sidewalk for your cousin. She had run in to grab her purse. Unconsciously, you rubbed the small J on your right wrist. Although you didn’t necessarily care for your Soulmate as much as everyone else did, you still found it slightly comforting.

Knowing he was out there.

“Sorry!” Your cousin tumbled out of the front door, heaving. “Sorry. Your mom kept handing me money and my mom kept telling me not to take it.” She looked up at you, flushed and smiling.

You grinned, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Both your mothers, being sisters, often did things like this. It was funny to everyone else, but serious for them. You usually waited them out, knowing there was no point until they gave up.

You waved your hand in dismissal, instantly dropping it. “Let’s go?” Your cousin had pitched the idea of going to the famous, local music restaurant and you jumped at the idea. You really couldn’t stand another family game night.

You strolled down the road side by side as she caught you up on everything. You really did miss her. Being the same age, she always understood you. She knew of your impassiveness and you knew of her obsession.

“Guess who found their Soulmate,” she asked you, her eyes wide. You laughed before you bit your lip in thought. You knew most of her friends, having grown up alongside her before your family moved.

You shrugged, opting for her to just tell you. “No idea. Who is it?”

She clapped her hands. “Heeseung!” At your raised eyebrows, she laughed. “I know, right? He went out with his parents last week and she was the hostess there. They’re actually really cute.”

You nodded in surprise, a warm surge of something in your chest. It always happened when you heard of others finding their Soulmate. “That’s amazing. I’m happy for them. He was looking, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He kinda gave up but I guess fate had other plans.” She eyed you before glancing at your wrist, the one you were still rubbing.

“What about you?” She tried to keep the intrigue out of her voice but you could see it in her eyes. She really wanted you to find your Soulmate, but you weren’t necessarily eager. She had found her Soulmate as soon as she turned eighteen, having been friends with him for years.

You shrugged before dropping your wrist. “You know me. I’m not looking. If he finds me then I guess that’s it.”

She frowned, pursing her lips. “Y/n, you don’t have to sound so… defeated about it. It’s a good thing. It’s a beautiful thing.” She rubbed her wrist, the red S glowing. Before, she used to be very adamant about finding your Soulmate. But when you explained to her that not everyone grows up with their Soulmate, she understood. She was extremely lucky.

You rolled your eyes, having heard this conversation many times before. “I know. It’s just… it makes me uncomfortable, you know? I’m just supposed to trust that this man is perfect for me?”

Your cousin nodded in understanding, because she did understand. You had always been the one who asked questions and wanted to remain independent. A lot of people were like you. It was hard to comprehend that the universe created two people perfect for each other.

“Just,” she sighed as you neared the restaurant, “don’t push it away, okay? Don’t run from it. From what I’ve seen and gone through, it’s a really beautiful process. It’s like breathing for the first time.”

You nodded, opening the door for her. “I’m not against it. I’m just not super for it either. I’m just… indifferent. Yeah,” you smiled. “Indifferent.”

She laughed before fixing her coat. She had texted her friends to meet at the restaurant and you were excited. You liked all her friends and some of them were really good singers and attractive. It had been a while since you had seen them, years for some, and you knew you would have a good time with them. You always did.

Walking into the restaurant, you inhaled the sweet scent of wood and whiskey. Your eyes wandered, taking in the cabin-like furniture of the establishment before glancing at the bar, then at the stage. A band played their music while people sat and listened, some singing along and some just enjoying the atmosphere. This was your first time here since you became an adult, and you now understood why everyone loved it. It was just up your alley, dark and comfortable.

Your cousin grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her friends, smiling and waving at them. You laughed at her excitement. She was more excited for you to see them than she was. She immediately made her way to Sunghoon, kissing him passionately. The day they had both turned eighteen changed everything. The only reason you had high expectations was because of them.

They were truly perfect for each other.

All her friends waved and greeted you both loudly, smiling. “You guys made it!” You smiled at Heeseung, having known him for years. He smiled at you before side-hugging you. He looked good. His eyes shined brighter and he had a permanent smile etched onto his lips. He patted your back before bear hugging your cousin.

You greeted everyone else, hugging those you were close with and smiling at those you weren’t. Some faces you recognized; Jake and Jungwon. They greeted you warmly, glad you had come tonight.

There was a man you didn’t recognize and you smiled at him as he introduced himself. “I’m Sunoo. It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You laughed, finding him adorable. He had bright eyes and his black hair fell to his eyes. “Only good things, I hope.”

Sunghoon threw his arm around Sunoo and grinned at you, his fangs making an appearance. “Now, Y/n, you know that’s impossible.”

You grinned before slapping his shoulder. “I’m not completely terrible.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Say that to the hole in my wall.”

At his words, your eyes widened and your mouth dropped to the floor. Sunoo laughed in disbelief, slapping Sunghoo’s chest. “She’s the one who put the hole in your wall?”

Sunghoon nodded, not looking displeased about it at all. In fact, he looked elated.

You grimaced. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten that fixed yet. It’s been years.”

“It’s been one.”

You threw your hands up in shame, a sheepish smile on your face. “Okay, true. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know your walls were so weak.”

Sunoo stared at you both, back and forth before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, what happened?”

You dropped your head when Heeseung threw his arm around you, grinning. “Are we talking about Y/n’s famous misadventures?”

You shook your head as Sunoo and Sunghoon nodded. You hid your face in your hands as Heeseung and Sunghoon told Sunoo the story of you trying to do a handstand in his basement when you fell over, your foot crashing into the wall, making a hole in the center of the wall.

You sighed and dropped your head back as the three laughed, a slow smile creeping onto your face at the sound. It was nice, being surrounded by jazz music and the laughter of your friends.

At the sound of laughter, your cousin, Jake, and Jungwon make their way over to you. You smiled at them as the other three lost their mind, howling over other mishaps you kept finding yourself in. You truly had a knack of getting into weird situations when you were in this town.

“I’ll fix that hole in your wall for you,” you said. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you as his laughter turned into heavy breathing. “I’m serious. I know how.”

Your cousin nodded, resting her hand on your shoulder. She was so happy you were here with her, with her friends. With your friends. “She’s really good,” she agreed. “Y/n fixes up both our houses.” She narrows her eyes at Sunghoon and he crumbles.

Sunghoon crosses his arms. “Alright. How much?”

You shook your head. “Never bring up that story again?”

Jake laughed. “But it’s such a good story. One of our favourites, actually.”

Before you could answer, Jungwon smiled. “I’m sure we’ll have more stories to tell about Y/n before this week is over.”

At your deadpan look, Jungwon and Jake laughed before you all found your seats at the table. “I’m never coming back here. There’s a reason we moved and it’s because of all of you.” At your pout, Sunghoon pats your head. You allowed it only because of your cousin and the way she smiled up at him, all foolish and in love.

“Alright, Y/n. If you fix the hole in my wall, I’ll never bring up the story again.” You both stared at each other before shaking on it.

“By the way,” Heeseung said. “This deal only applies to Sunghoon.”

You smiled at Heeseung. “Die.”

He laughed before checking his phone. A stupid smile took over and you had a feeling that his Soulmate had texted him. You glanced at his wrist and stared at the red letter. That’s what happened when you found your soulmate and touched them for the first time. The black letter turned red and remained red.

“Where’s Jay and Riki?” Your cousin asked Heeseung, passing a glass of water to you. You didn’t know who Jay or Riki were, but you assumed they would make an appearance before the end of the night.

“Riki’s at practice and asked Jay to stay with him. They’ll be here soon.”

Your cousin nodded before leaning into you. “What do you wanna eat? I was thinking of onion rings.” You scanned the menu. “Hm. What about calamari?” Your cousin nodded, knowing you both were going to share, regardless.

After the orders of food and drinks had been placed, Jake leaned back in his seat. “So, what’s up, Y/n? What have you been up to? It’s been what, a few months?”

You nodded, sipping on your water as the conversations picked up around you. “Yeah. It’s been a while. I’m good! Just finishing up school and working. Honestly, my life is pretty boring right now.”

Jake and Sunoo nodded in understanding. Jake glanced at your wrist before smirking. “So, any news on the Soulmate?”

You rolled your eyes and showed him your wrist, your black letter on clear display. “Nope.” You eyed their wrists. “What about you guys?”

Jake and Sunoo both showed their wrists, their black letters vibrant against their fair skin. You watched as Jake lowered his wrist but Sunoo stared at his own, a twisted frown on his pink lips. He traced the letter once before dropping his wrist, staring at his water.

You wanted to ask but you only met him today. When it came to Soulmates, some were more sensitive than others. It was a centuries old phenomenon but it never got easier to accept. You had an inkling that Sunoo was more sensitive than others. Instead, you smiled at him when he caught your eye.

You tuned into the other conversation happening at the table and instantly sat straighter. Heeseung was recounting the night he met his Soulmate and you listened carefully. Although it happened all the time around you, the stories always made you melt. The ice beneath your exterior slowly breaking.

“And then I touched her hand. I just brushed her hand but my entire body was on fire. Then our marks began to burn and they turned red. After that, well, we didn’t talk much.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Everyone laughed and your cousin shoved his shoulder, mumbling about having decorum.

Only to have Sunghoon raise his eyebrow at his Soulmate, smirking. “We didn’t do much talking either, babe.” You wanted to gag just for the sake of it.

“Did the burning hurt?” You furrowed your eyebrows. It was always different with certain people. Sometimes it burned in a cool, tingly way and sometimes it burned the way warm water on a cold day burned. For your cousin, she said it felt like a bucket of cold water had poured over her on a hot day.

Heeseung shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. “Not at all. It burned the way an itch that you’ve finally scratched burns. It was like relief settled in my bones.”

The other listened carefully, despite having heard all of this before. Heeseung was lucky because he was young. Your letter appeared when you turned eighteen, and many people spent all their twenties finding their Soulmates. Now, he was the third person in their friend group to have found their lover.

“And where is she?” Your cousin asked, shoving a piece of calamari in her mouth. Sunghoon smiled fondly at her, his hand resting on her thigh. They sat pressed together and you almost wondered why she wasn’t sitting on his lap but chose to ignore that thought.

“She’s working tonight. Begged her to take the night off but it was too late.” His eyes were saddened but then he was smiling. “I’m seeing her later tonight.”

The rest of the night was spent drinking and talking, with the occasional performance by Heeseung and Jake. The night was filled with warmth; constant laughter and conversation flowed with the help of drinks and snacks. Your cheeks felt warm and your stomach was full. This was the most fun you had in a while and you were so thankful.

As it neared midnight, you stood from your seat, blinking the haze from your eyes. Your cousin and Sunghoon, along with Heeseung and his Soulmate, had been on the makeshift dance floor for a while. All the couples swayed to the music, carelessly in love. You had spent the better part of your evening with Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo. They made amazing company and you couldn’t stop laughing. You stumbled and Jake reached out, steadying you. You smiled at him before walking towards the dance floor.

You nudged Sunghoon’s shoulder and grinned at him when he raised an eyebrow at you. You stared at him before you slapped his forehead. Your mind was a bit fuzzy from all the music and the ambiance. “Can I have her back? We should get home.”

Sunghoon groaned into your cousin’s hair, refusing to stop swaying. Your cousin laughed before pulling away from him, kissing his cheek. “She’s right, baby. We gotta go.”

Heeseung caught your eye and waved at you, blowing you an exaggerated kiss and his Soulmate smiled at you before they went back to dancing.

Sunghoon sighed before nodding, he flicked your forehead before pulling you both back to the table. You said your goodbyes, kissing and hugging the boys. Jake ruffled your hair before making you promise to hangout with them again. Jungwon kissed your cheek and told you to let him know when you planned to fix Sunghoon’s wall. Sunoo hugged you and asked for your number. Your cousin promised to make another group chat, one with everyone. You smiled at Riki, finding the teenager adorable. You met him today but you already loved him. He grinned at you, giving you a thumbs-up.

Sunghoon drove you both back home, mumbling about curfews and the time. You barely listened as you sat in the back, staring out the window. It had been a good day. A really good day.

Parking in your driveway, you stepped out of the car, blowing Sunghoon a kiss and flipping him off. You chose to ignore the makeout session as you stepped into your aunt’s home, hoping everyone was asleep.

They were.

After a few minutes, your cousin stumbled through the front door, frowning at the ledge she always tripped over. You both giggled before trying to quietly make your way to her bedroom.

You both passed out side by side, makeup only wiped off and clothes thrown aside. It will be a good week.

Jay slowly opened the basement door with his foot, balancing the tray carefully on his left hand as he adjusted his sweater with his right hand. He thought this was all unnecessary but Heeseung insisted, and well, he had a hard time refusing him.

Heeseung had chastised Jay for skipping the other night instead of showing up with Riki. The younger boy, while only allowed on one side of the restaurant, showed up despite being exhausted. Jay had no excuse besides not being in the mood. So, here he was. Holding a tray full of all their favourite finger foods because he was pathetic.

Sighing, he slowly walked down the stairs. He had told Sunghoon so many times to let him add carpet to the stairs but he always refused. Something about authenticity and aesthetic. Jay could hear their chatter and his small frown curled upwards. Despite his sighing, he was happy. It was cold out today but the sun shone brightly and all his friends were together.

As soon as Jay stepped onto the cold basement floor, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He told Riki and Jungwon to help Sunghoon cleanup but it didn’t seem like they did. The faint smell of Chinese food lingered in the air and he sighed. He’d have to open a window.

Jake spotted him first and threw his head back in relief, his hand on his stomach. “Thank god, man. I’m starving.”

Jay raised an eyebrow as he set the tray down on Sunghoon’s only table. “You’re always starving, Jake.”

Jake only shrugged before jumping up, walking to the tray without a care. Heeseung laughed at him and Sunoo swatted Jake’s bottom as he passed. Sunghoon lifted his eyes from his phone before frowning at Jake. “Don’t spill any crumbs.”

They all watched as Jake chomped down on a slider, crumbs falling on the floor. Sunghoon sighed in exasperation as Jungwon laughed. There were truly some habits that could not be helped. Jay sank down on the empty bean bag next to Riki and stretched his legs. He unconsciously rubbed his wrist, his finger tracing the black letter.

“Jay,” Heeseung called. Jay lifted his head and looked at Heeseung. “You honestly should have showed up the other night.” Jungwon and Sunoo nodded in agreement, snacking on the plates Jake made them. Heeseung thanked Jake before looking back at Jay. “You would have loved Y/n.”

Jay had been hearing your name quite frequently the past couple of days. You were Sunghoon’s Soulmate’s cousin, someone who left town a few months before he came. He had heard your name a few times over the years, somehow always missing you. Every time you were in town, he was preoccupied. To him, you existed in the fantastical stories that Sunghoon and Jake told him.

He glanced at the hole in the wall next to him, grinning at the story Sunghoon loved to tell. He almost wanted to punch the wall to see how weak the drywall truly was, but he respected himself too much to go through with it.

“My bad, Hyung,” Jay ran his hand through his hair. “I was honestly exhausted and would not have made good company. Let’s plan something else in a few days.”

Heeseung nodded, going back to playing the game with Jake. Soft music played as everyone lounged around, basking in the quietness of the afternoon. They didn’t get many moments like this. Not with everyone’s hectic schedule.

“When is Y/n coming over to fix the wall, Hyung?” Riki asked Sunghoon, controller in his hands and crackers in his mouth. Jay slowly turned his head to Sunghoon, eyebrows raised and lips parted.

Sunghoon pursed his lips. “I think after six? That’s what she said yesterday.”

“What?” Jay stared at Sunghoon, mouth agape. “I’ve asked you for months to let me fix that hole! And you’re letting Y/n do it?”

Sunghoon shrugged. “Yeah. She asked.” At Jay’s unimpressed look, Sunghoon smiled. “Plus, the missus told me to.” At his confession, Jay dropped his shoulders. There was nothing to argue if Soulmates were involved.

Still, he frowned. He could be a bit annoyed by it. He knew he could have fixed the hole in less than thirty minutes, but Sunghoon never let him. He said it was funnier, and it was a nice reminder, but Jay simply thought he was crazy.

“Y/n was nice,” Sunoo mused. Jay shifted his eyes from the screen to him, listening. “She’d never met me and tried her best to engage me in conversation. Plus,” he smiled, “she didn’t even ask about my Soulmate.”

Jay raised an eyebrow at Sunoo’s words, slightly impressed. Sunoo wasn’t the most subtle when it came to his feelings, so he often got many questions. Jay was just glad his friend was comfortable and had a good time.

“You guys should have seen her last year,” Heeseung laughed. “Before the wall incident, she figured out a way onto my roof. It was the craziest thing I had ever seen. One second we’re all in my garage and then she’s on the roof.”

Jake and Jungwon burst into laughter, clearly remembering the incident like it happened yesterday. Sunghoon grinned at his phone as he typed away, and Sunoo smiled at what Jay could only assume was his imagination, trying to picture it.

Riki pouted at the television. “I wish I got to see that,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon nodded, still primarily focused on his phone. “She’s a good one. She’s not super into the whole Soulmate thing, though.”

Jay’s eyes widened a fraction before he bit into a cracker. He didn’t know many people who weren’t absolutely smitten with the idea of Soulmates. Although he knew it was inevitable, he couldn’t help but feel a bit insecure about it. He didn’t even know who he was, so how could the universe make someone for him? Who could truly stand him and his flaws? Who could look at him and decide they loved him anyways?

Jungwon nodded, munching away. “Yeah, she mentioned it the other night. It’s kind of interesting, actually.” He looked at Jay. “She thinks like you.”

Jay rolled his eyes, snorting. “Oh, so she has common sense?” He dodged the pillow Heeseung threw at him and grinned before looking back at Jungwon. “Anyone with common sense would find it a bit weird.”

Immediately, the other six boys in the room shook their heads. They were used to Jay’s rambling and thoughts. In retrospect, they could understand where he was coming from. Jay had grown up relatively lonely, and so he learned to be independent and capable very early on.

Jokingly, Jungwon had joked about Jay and Y/n being Soulmates to Heeseung. The older boy only slapped his shoulder and shook his head. He knew neither party would appreciate the joke.

“Everyone knows you’re a romantic at heart, Jay.” Jake wiggled his eyebrows. “You can drop the tough boy exterior. We won’t tell anyone.”

Jay laughed before throwing the pillow at Jake, hitting him right in the chest. He grinned at Jake’s baffled expression before dropping his shoulders. “Shut up.”

The boys laughed. As much as they liked to tease Jay, they all loved him very much. He was a busy guy and any time they got with him was precious. Riki shifted his beanbag and laid his head in Jay’s lap. Sunghood said nothing as he picked up Jay’s empty plate and passed him a full one, knowing that Jay sometimes got too busy to eat properly.

The next few hours were spent leisurely; alternating between playing games and having weird, in-depth conversations about random topics. Jay’s cheeks hurt from laughing. His sweater had come off hours ago and now he laid on the floor, Jungwon draped over him as they watched Heeseung and Riki play an intense game of Twister.

Jay glanced at his watch and cursed, gaining the attention of Jungwon and Sunoo. “What is it, Hyung?” Sunoo asked, eyes on Heeseung’s trembling form. If Heeseung lost, Riki got to tell Heeseung’s Soulmate one secret. If Riki lost, he had to yell Heeseung’s name at his next game before he scored. The stakes were extremely high.

“Shit,” Jay shuffled upwards, smiling apologetically at Jungwon’s irritated look. “I gotta go, guys. I promised dad I’d help him.” He stood up, shrugging on his sweater.

Sunghoon frowned, glancing at his phone. “It’s only five forty-five. Don’t you want to meet Y/n? You should stay for a bit.”

Jay did want to meet you, and he wanted to see just how good you were at carpentry, but he had committed to his dad. Part of him didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and waste time, but the softer part of him refused. He smiled at Sunghoon. “I’ll be back. I’ll try and stop by as soon as I’m done. I’ll keep you updated.”

He pocketed his phone and laughed as the other boys yelled out their goodbyes, all exaggerated and gross. Jake even grabbed his face and kissed him right on the forehead, which ended with Jay pushing him off, groaning as he wiped his cheek.

“See you later, Jay!” Heeseung yelled, trying not to fall over. He lifted his head and grinned. “Thanks for the snacks, by the way. You’re such a good malewife.”

Jay blinked as Jungwon and Riki shook with laughter. Heeseung often called Jay terms like that but it never made it easier to hear. Jay wanted to walk over and push both Riki and Heeseung over, making them both lose, but he just rolled his eyes and flipped them off.

“See you.”

Twenty minutes after Jay left, you and your cousin parked the car in Sunghoon’s driveway. You were excited as you reached in the back, grabbing all the tools you needed. You had taken an interest in carpentry after your mother had damaged her wall and didn’t have the heart to tell your father. After that, you realized it was pretty easy to do.

Plus, it made you feel better about yourself. You didn’t need a man to do these things for you. You were fully capable and it eased the tension in your shoulders. A small, miniscule part of you wondered if all the skills you had gained were simply to compensate for everything else you lacked.

Your cousin shut your car door as you balanced everything in your uncle’s toolbox. He didn’t even ask when you declared that you needed his tools. He simply sighed and told you to go crazy.

Your cousin rang the doorbell and the door was instantly pulled open by Sunghoon, his entire body shaking with excitement. He pulled her into a long, passionate kiss and you just stood behind her, looking up. You cleared your throat once, then twice.

“Ahem,” you coughed. This time, your cousin heard you and pulled away, laughing at the pout on Sunghoon’s lips. She kissed him once more before throwing you an apologetic smile. She simply pushed past him and waved to you to follow.

You snickered at Sunghoon’s lovestruck expression as you walked by him, pulling him out of the trance he was under. He caught up to you and bumped shoulders with you, smiling at you. He glanced at the tools in your arm and shook his head, not wanting to even ask.

You followed your cousin down the basement stairs and frowned at the uneven bumps and screws. When your feet landed on the cold floor, you turned back to the stairs. “You should really get carpet on those stairs, Sunghoon. It’s dangerous to have such uneven steps.”

The chatter behind you quietened and Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. You turned back to face him and found them all staring at you, curiosity swimming in their eyes. Your eyes drifted from Jake to Riki and you frowned. “What? Are you super sensitive about your stairs too?”

Sunghoon quietly shook his head, tilting it in thought. “No, you’re just not the first person to tell me that.”

You sighed in relief and shrugged. “Oh. Yeah, obviously.” You eyed the stairs again. “Those are some weird stairs.” You didn’t pay attention to the eyes on you as you walked further into the basement, putting down all the tools by the wall. Everyone else shared a curious look before going back to doing whatever they were doing “So who else has mentioned the stairs?”

“Jay,” Jake answered, shoving a piece of fruit in his mouth. “He’s always talking about them.”

You nodded, slowly understanding this Jay character. “Are you guys sure that Jay is real? All this talk and I have yet to meet him.”

Heeseung laughed, slapping his thigh. “Oh, he’s real. Very real.”

Your cousin raised an eyebrow at Sunghoon. “Where is he?” Sunghoon shrugged, kissing her forehead. “Had to help his dad with something.”

You turned around, smiling at everyone. You ignored the way your cousin and Sunghoon took up the whole couch and walked to Jungwon and Riki, sitting in between them. They hugged you and you ruffled Riki’s hair, holding yourself back from pinching his cheek. You all watched as Jake and Sunoo played an intense game of twister.

You quickly fixed the hole in the wall, a bit nervous because of all the eyes on you. It didn’t help that everyone refused to let you hold the drywall knife even though you had only had one mishap with a knife years ago. Once it was done, Sunghoon nodded in approval and you felt accomplished.

Later, the basement was filled with laughter and music, a comfortable blanket of warmth covering the coldness of the evening. You finished your slider before looking up at Jungwon. “Hey,” you mumbled. “Who made all the snacks?” You knew how far Heeseung and Sunghoon’s skills went, and this seemed to surpass them.

“Oh, that would be Jay Hyung. He’s our resident chef.”

You nodded, in thought. You still had to meet Jay. He was supposed to come the other night but he never showed up. You thought you knew him, though, with how often the boys mentioned him. You had heard of Jay before, too. Somehow, you always seemed to miss him. He almost didn’t seem real. Despite Heeseung confirming that he was.

“He’s a really good cook,” you shoved a dumpling in your mouth. You weren’t the best cook, despite your constant efforts. You could follow a recipe closely enough, but you didn’t have that natural talent that you assumed Jay had.

After you had lost the game of Twister with your cousin, you sat on the sofa with Riki and Sunghoon. You leaned into Sunghoon and he wrapped his arm around you. To him, you were like a cousin. Someone he didn’t have to see or talk to all the time, but knew that when you did, things would be fun. Riki laid slumped against you. He didn’t usually get comfortable so quickly with strangers but he already knew you from the stories, and you thought he was just the cutest.

You watched as your cousin tried beating Sunoo and Jake at Mario Kart, but all you could do was laugh. She was horrible at it, but she was smiling and having fun. You knew Heeseung was just itching to grab the controller out her hand and you parted your lips to make a comment when your wrist hurt.

You glanced down at your right wrist and your eyes widened when the slight stinging pain turned into something warmer. You gripped your wrist and held your breath when the J on your wrist turned a solid, dark blue. You gasped at the colour, immediately standing upright. You caught the attention of everyone in the room and they stared at you.

You glanced at your cousin with wide, frightened eyes. What was happening? You rubbed the letter, wondering if you were seeing this. No, no, this can’t be.

“Y/n?” She dropped the controller, slowly standing up. She walked to you and grabbed your wrist, gasping at the blue letter. Suddenly, everything around you became quiet and loud at the same time. Everyone stood up and surrounded you, eyes wide as they stared at your wrist.

Heeseung laughed, biting his fist in excitement. Sunoo and Riki shared a look of disbelief. Jungwon could only gape with Jake, neither hadn’t actually witnessed a tethering in real life.

Your cousin said your name softly, pulling you out of your haze. She smiled at you and grabbed your other hand. “Y/n. Listen to me,” she squeezed your wrists. “Do you know what this means?”

Numb, you could only nod. When your Soulmate is close, your letter turns blue. The two letters then tether together a string of fate that tries to pull both Soulmates together. The string is invisible to everyone but them, and is inevitable once it has appeared.

“Can you see the string?”

You blinked and looked down at your wrist, eyes widening as a blue string appeared in front of your eyes, connecting your letter J with someone else’s wrist. Your eyes followed the blues hue until you glanced at the basement stairs.

“This is so exciting,” Riki whispers, earning a shove from Sunghoon. He could see the turmoil on your face. The hesitance and the need that swirled in your eyes. Any second now, and you would begin to–

Breathing heavily, you yanked your wrists from your cousin's hold and booked it upstairs, running towards your Soulmate. Your cousin stared at where you once stood before she yelled your name, running after you. Sunghoon and Heeseung followed, calling both your names.

Panicked, Jake grabbed the car keys and ran after them. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki followed him, all four of them scrambling up the stairs to the front door. Jake watched as the four of you ran down the street and decided it would be better to have one car. He shoved the three younger boys in the back and quickly pulled out of the driveway.

You ran as fast as you could. There was a red car driving ahead of you, and you knew it belonged to your Soulmate. It had not gotten far when you ran out the front door, but now it was leaving you in its wake.

Blood pumped to your head as your lungs burned. You could hear your cousin, Sunghoon, and Heeseung behind you but you didn’t care. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, all that you knew was that you needed to see him. To touch him. It was as if a centuries old feeling had overtaken you, throwing all common sense out the window as primal need and want swirled inside of you.

Abruptly, the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. The blue string tightened as you neared the car, out of breath and sweaty. Slowing down, you began heaving in deep breaths when you were only twenty meters away from the car.

Heeseung and Sunghoon caught up to you, huffing and sweaty. Heeseung put his hand on your shoulder as the three of you caught your breath, your cousin now speed walking to you. His eyes narrowed at the familiar license plate and he shared a look with Sunghoon, both holding their tongues.

Your eyes were focused solely on the driver side of the red car. You didn’t care about the model or the plate, just the person who drove it. Your heart was beating so loudly in your chest you could feel it in your fingernails. You were still out of breath but it had nothing to do with running. Your Soulmate sat in that car and you had no choice but to meet him.

Your cousin reached you and put her hand on your other shoulder. She was excited and nervous but she could feel the tension rolling off of you in waves. She squinted at the car and gasped, immediately being shushed by Heeseung and Sunghoon. Somewhere behind you, a car had been parked. You could hear other voices join the cloud of noise in your mind.

“Y/n,” Heeseung whispered. “Don’t be scared. I promise you that he’s a good guy. There’s nothing like meeting your soulmate for the first time.” He squeezed your shoulder. “Remember, he is perfect for you.”

You nodded, tears in your eyes. You had imagined this scenario many times in your head but it was never real. You knew that realistically you had a Soulmate but you never expected to meet him so young. Now, with hundreds of emotions clashing inside you, the only one you could identify was longing.

Slowly, you put one foot in front of the other until you slowly started getting closer to the car. You stopped after a few steps, hands shaking as you realized that only you were moving. You purse your lips at the thought of your Soulmate not wanting to meet you.

“He doesn’t want me,” you mumbled. You took a step back but your cousin’s chest stopped you. She stood directly behind you and held both your shoulders, a frown on her lips. “What? Y/n, of course he does. He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the blue string that looked so tempting, so inviting. “He’s not even moving.” You tugged your hand back, wincing when the letter burned for a second. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Dumbass,” Sunghoon whispered, rolling his eyes. Of all the moments he chose to be slow, this is what prevailed? Sunghoon wanted to drag him out of the car and shake him until he reached his senses.

Heeseung grabbed a small pebble from the road and eyed it. He glanced at Sunghoon who only shrugged. Nodding to himself, Heeseung threw the pebble right at the car. You watched as the small stone hit the car’s back window with a quiet smack!

However small the stone, it did its job. You held your breath as the figure inside the car moved. You watched with wide, shiny eyes as he slowly opened the car door and stepped out. Your eyes travelled from his black boots up his dark blue jeans. You eyed the black sweater before you glanced at the side of his face. Your entire body shook and you audibly gasped when he slammed the door closed, turning to you.

Your shiny eyes met his dark brown ones and everything around you stopped. All the noise disappeared and the presence of others behind you no longer existed. It was just you and him. It was always going to be you and him.

Jay was frozen. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his palms sweaty as he tried to breathe. He had driven to Sunghoon’s house and parked, before he realized he forgot his phone at home. He pulled out of his driveway and began to drive when his wrist burned and the letter turned blue. In shock, he kept his foot on the pedal, unable to process anything.

It was only when he saw your figure in the rearview camera that he parked his car, breathing heavily. He blinked a few times, mouth dry, as he stared at you. You stood in front of him, hands trembling and so beautiful. He ignored the audience behind you, his sole focus on you.

You were so beautiful, so perfect. His heart swelled in his chest and he was sure this wasn’t healthy. His lungs almost burst and his hands twitched. He needed to do something. He needed to see you up close, touch your face. This couldn’t be, Jay wanted to shout. She’s too pretty.

You swallowed as you stared at him. He was beautiful. With his strong jaw and sharp eyebrows that were covered by his black hair. Your eyes trailed his face, memorizing the shape of his nose and lips and his broad shoulders.

He looked so big and strong and yet so gentle, you almost collapsed. His tan skin made you want to kiss him, and the way he was staring at you, eyes wide and twinkly, made you think he wanted the same.

The blue string tightened and pulled you both into each other, impatient; you started moving towards him and he started moving towards you. Neither of you had any control over your limbs as fate pulled you both together, space lessening.

Jay broke into a run, needing to breathe you in. He almost called out to you when you began running towards him, wanting you to save your breath because he was coming to you. Breathless, you both stopped in front of each other, eyes locked on the other.

You were shorter than him, and when you looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with trepidation and excitement, Jay’s knees buckled. You smiled at him, at the closeness, breathing in his scent. He was so handsome, masculine features mixed with soft, angelic ones. At your smile, all of Jay’s initial worries melted. As long as you smiled at him, he knew he would be okay.

“Hi,” you whispered. Your voice, soft and anxious, brushed against his chin. You wanted to reach out to him, touch his sharp jaw. Your blue letter itched, the need to turn red weighed heavily on both of you.

Jay smiled and you melted, all your insecurities and indifference dissipating. How could you have had any qualms about this? About him? He was perfect to you, from his smile to his trembling hands.

“Hi, pretty.” Jay inched closer to you, tips of his shoes touching yours. Your cheeks felt warm at the term, knowing he genuinely meant it. He was staring at you with so much passion, heat infused into eyes.

Slowly, you reached up. Your right hand slowly inching towards your face. Jay watched you closely, wanting to paint a perfect picture of you in his mind. His eyes briefly glanced at the blue J on your wrist and his smile deepened. That’s right, he thought. You were his and he was yours.

Gently, you cupped his cheek and you both winced in pleasure as your wrists began to burn. He leaned into your hand and it felt like all the stress you had been harboring for years had lifted off your chest. Your heart felt lighter and fuller and when you breathed, it felt like you had taken your first breath of fresh air.

Jay closed his eyes as his wrist burned. He nuzzled his face into your warm hand, tears pricking his eyes as all of his hardships and insecurities melted away. He suddenly felt like he could rule the world, like he deserved everything good the world had to offer.

He felt like he deserved you; someone so beautiful and soft, with a kind smile and wide eyes.

Jay lifted his right wrist, keeping it parallel to yours. You both watched as the letters turned permanently red, something warm swirling in your stomachs. Once the burning lessened, you tried pulling your hand away but Jay caught your wrist, keeping your hand on his face. He lifted your other hand to his face and you grinned when his eyes fluttered shut.

You rubbed his jaw, silently impressed by the sharpness. Everything felt warm and electric. You could feel your insides turn to mush when he smiled at you, his eyes lighting up. His lips looked so soft, so plump. Without thinking, you ran your thumb across his bottom lip, transfixed by the pinkness. Jay almost whimpered at the feeling, his entire face warming up.

With an urgency Jay had never felt before, his hands gently came up to your waist. His eyes squinted in question and you nodded, needing his hands on you. His strong hands rested on your waist, pulling you in closer to him.

“I know we have a lot to talk about,” Jay’s voice brushed against your lips, “but I might pass away if I don’t kiss you.” His eyes were filled with adoration, desperation leaking into his hold.

You nodded, pulling his face closer to yours. “Kiss me,” you begged. You didn’t even mind the audience behind you, knowing that they didn’t matter. Nothing did, not when his lips hovered over yours.

Jay smiled as he pressed his lips against yours. You gasped into his mouth, a wave of emotions crashing into you, pushing you further into him. The warmth in your chest erupted, spreading over your whole body as he kissed you. His lips softly pressed against yours and he pulled away. Before you could think, you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him back, slamming your lips against his.

You could feel his heart beating and knew yours was beating just as loudly. Jay pulled you flush against him, kissing you back just as hard. He had never felt like this before. He had never wanted to fall to his knees in devotion the way he wanted to right now. He could have if your grip on him wasn’t so strong.

Everything inside you begged for your hands to roam, to touch his body. But you couldn’t. Not yet. You didn’t even know his name. With a heavy heart, you pulled away, panting into his mouth. Your eyes were still closed when he rested his forehead against yours, both breathing the other in.

“I called this,” a familiar voice said behind you.

Jay opened his eyes first and couldn’t help but smile at your expression; lips plump and eyes shut. You looked breathtaking. He almost pressed another kiss to your inviting lips but his eyes glanced to the side and he froze. All his friends, all your friends, were staring at him with goofy smiles and mischievous eyes.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and Jay looked back at you. You smiled shyly at him before looking down. He still held you close to his chest, his hands warm on your waist. Your hand was still gripping his sweater and cupping his cheek. You didn’t have it in you to let go.

“Everyone’s staring,” you whispered. “Aren’t they?”

Jay nodded, a soft smile on his face. You wanted to kiss it. Your heart couldn’t handle it. It was such a beautifully sculpted smile, the edges of his lips turned upwards as his eyes shone. “They are.” He narrowed his eyes slightly at them. “Do you want me to tell them to go?”

You shook your head. You knew you were still in the middle of the street but if you were alone with him, you may get yourself in trouble. He was too much. You didn’t trust yourself enough, part of you knew that you wouldn’t mind if he began to strip you. “It’s okay. They wouldn’t leave, anyways.”

Jay tilted his head, his head filled with clouds of desire and affection. He licked his lips and tried not to smirk when your eyes fell on them, wide with curiosity. “I know I should have asked before, but what’s your name, pretty?”

You laughed, smiling in embarrassment. If Jay could have bottled the sound, he would have. If he could have bottled it, he would have worn it around his neck, wanting to keep it close to his heart. He had heard many laughs over the years, but none that sounded as beautiful as yours.

“Y/n,” you answered. You grazed his cheek with your thumb, not noticing the way his eyes widened. “My name’s Y/n.” You looked up at Jay and frowned at his surprised expression. Your eyebrows furrowed and you purse your lips. “What? What is it?”

“You’re Y/n? The Y/n?”

Slowly, you nodded. “Yes? I’m sorry,” you pulled your head back, “you know who I am?”

Jay opened his mouth to answer but then paused. Disbelief bubbling in his chest. He glanced back at Sunghoon and Heeseung’s pleased faces and realized he hadn’t answered you. Shaking his head, he laughed. You simply watched him in confusion as laughter took over his body, his eyes tearing up.

“I’m Jay,” he finally answered. He watched as the information processed in your mind, watched as your lips parted and your eyes grew. You stared at him like he was a magical creature and he wondered if he was looking at you the same way.

“You’re Jay?” You grabbed his chin, turning his head back and forth, trying to sear his face into your mind. “As in, the Jay who always complains about the stairs and cooks?”

Amused, Jay simply nods. You both stare at each other in wonder, hundreds of emotions brimming underneath the surface while unspoken words sit in between you. All those years that you had missed each other, all those occasions that could have been.

“So, isn’t this interesting?”

You broke your eye contact with Jay and turned at the sound of Heeseung’s pleased voice. You smiled as they all walked up to you, happiness shining in their eyes. Jay rolled his eyes before he stepped beside you, his arm still around your waist.

Your cousin grinned at you and you smiled back, still in shock. She stepped towards you and you moved away from Jay, wrapping your arms around her. She hugged you tight, whispering quiet nothings to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears on the verge of spilling. She pulled away and you wiped a tear that escaped her. No words were exchanged because you already knew. You could feel it. You understood it all now. She simply kissed your cheek and smiled at Jay.

Sunghoon ruffled your hair and you frowned, slapping his hand. He grinned at you before bumping his shoulder against Jay’s. Jungwon and Sunoo hugged you, congratulating you. Jake pressed a soft kiss to your head, telling you how proud he was. Riki was crying and you hugged him. You rubbed his back as he sobbed, as the true emotional baby he was.

You teased Riki, whispering quiet phrases of encouragement before he let you go. This was the first time he had watched Soulmates meet and it was beautiful. He wanted to find his own so badly.

Quietly, Jay stepped beside you, his hand resting on your lower back. He needed you close to him. While he appreciated all his friends and their teasing and jabs, he really just wanted you alone. He wanted to get to know you, to know you beyond the stories he had heard. He wanted to memorize your taste and your smile. He wanted to begin his forever.

You smiled at him and realized that his eyes were bright with something else. Something dangerous. You turned your head, facing Heeseung as Jungwon recalled his joke from the other night. Your entire body felt warm and you tried to ignore his body heat beside you.

Your cousin, being the best person to exist, noticed the quietness between you both and she nudged Sunghoon. With a single raised eyebrow, he understood her unspoken words and nodded. He cleared his throat, interrupting Heeseung. “Maybe we should give them some space? Jake, let's take your car back.” He winked at Jay and winced when your cousin elbowed him.

Jake nodded, understanding how important this moment was. He fetched his keys from his pocket and clapped his hands. “Okay! Everyone who’s not Jay or Y/n back to my car. Pick the laps you want to sit on.”

You and Jay watched as the seven of them walked away, arguing and laughing. You stood in the middle of the road until you could no longer see Jake’s care. Your breathing had gotten deeper, a bubble of anxiety and excitement bubbling in your chest.

Jay turned his head and looked at you, suddenly nervous. His heart skipped a beat when you looked at him, smiling. “Have you eaten? Do you want to get something to eat? Or drink?”

Your smile widens at his words. He was just as nervous as you were. It calms you down a bit, knowing you didn’t have to pretend with him. “I could eat.” You admit. Jay’s eyes soften and he nods. He slowly pulls you to his car and you follow him, nervous.

“I can’t believe you almost drove away from me,” you teased. Jay’s ears turned red and you laughed, finding him adorable. As you neared his car, Jay’s shoulders dropped.

“I was nervous,” he admitted. “And a bit scared. I didn’t expect to find you like that.”

You nodded in understanding because you did understand. Still, you purse your lips. “You’re not still nervous, are you?” You wanted to keep your own insecurities out of your tone but he caught them. “I mean, you’re not upset that you found me, are you?”

Jay stilled at your words. You didn’t even notice until your hand slightly grazed the roof of his car. You turned, only to find Jay in front of you. He stepped towards you and your back hit the side of his car. You looked up at him, surprised. He caged you in, arm on either side of you.

Your throat dried at his closeness and his eyes; gosh, his eyes. Dark and blown wide with fondness and desire. He dipped his head down to yours until his breath made your ear tingle.

“Y/n, you have no idea how happy I am. My heart is about to burst out of my chest and I am one second away from bursting into tears.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I want to touch you all over, learn everything about you, but I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He pulled back, smiling gently at you as if he didn’t just ignite a fire in your whole body.

Your eyes shut at his words, knowing you had mistaken his hesitant demeanor. He watched as you breathed his scent in, wanting to coat yourself in his smell. The intensity of your want was killing you. Is this how it felt for all Soulmates?

You opened your eyes and Jay almost fell to his knees at the need and want in your eyes. He felt the exact same way, but he wanted to be patient. He wanted to spend more time with you, learn more about you, before he made love to you. He wanted to be a gentleman, someone who you wouldn’t mind calling your Soulmate.

Jay kissed you, smiling when you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pushed into you, wanting to feel every crevice of your body. Your hands pushed into his hair, pulling him closer to you. All you wanted was him.

When you pulled at his hair, Jay pulled away, breathing heavily. He pressed a soft kiss to your pout, unable to help himself. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling when you kissed his cheek.

“We have forever, love.” He kissed your nose. “Let’s take things slow. Let me treat you well.”

a/n: its finally done! this is for the lovely @luvkpopp who requested soulmates! if you guys like this, i’m open to writing a soulmate au for all of hyung line!

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jwanniie · 8 months

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G!p Besties WinChae thoughts!!

Warnings: slightly non con, unprotected sex, threesome and just filthy smut!

G!p Besties WinChae who are in the hallways the whole school day, checking every girl out sometimes maybe even catcalling🫢 but never wanting anything serious. Skipping most of their classes but nobody can say anything since they can get anyone they don’t like in trouble.

G!p besties WinChae who’s eyes basically fucked you. Staring at you like a predator, eyes full of lust and desire. The moment they saw you they knew that they had to have you. Well you were a new student, a literal perfect person. You were drop dead gorgeous, perfect grades, perfect personality, good in everything basically a goddess.

G!p besties WinChae started waiting for your classes to end, them being in the hallway staring at your ass as you walk by or at your perky round tits with a raging hard cock that they had to jerk off in the school toilet. You were Their aphrodisiac literally, but they never had the courage to ask you and even if they did you’d probably turn them down. They just jacked off to your photos.😔

G!p besties WinChae were done with you, they wanted to have you now, their hands isn’t doing the work, they are tired of imagining it’s your hand, they are tired of imagining filthy scenarios of the three of you, they want those scenarios to come true.

G!p besties WinChae had your schedule, when your class started and when will it end. They also knew when are the school hallways empty and when you can’t take a single breath due to the crowd, so they basically knew how to have you and when.

G!p besties WinChae were waiting for your class to end and to their luck that day weren’t a lot of students in school, due to most of the classes having a road trip but your class wasn’t included. Once they saw the sight of you, they pulled you to the bigger school toilet that they also used to jack off in to the thought of you.😶

G!p besties WinChae who both grabbed you by your arms while one hand on your mouth, Chaewon having you by your arms and a hand on your mouth, while Winter was locking the toilet door.

G!p besties WinChae who’s mercy you are under right now. Chaewon had her cock rammed into your throat while Winter was ramming your cunt, both of them getting of by your mouth and cunt, when they got bored they switched roles. Winter having her cock pounded into your mouth while Chaewon was abusing your cunt.

G!p besties WinChae who now bent you over and are thrusting into you in turns. While Chaewon pulled out, Winters cock replaced and the rhythm continued till both of them got off probably 10 times this afternoon. They recreated every possible scenario they had thought of.Both of them gave you their warm sticky seed more than 10?!?!😦

G!p besties WinChae when they were done with pleasuring themselves, they decided to reward you since you took both of them more than ten times. They slurped on your pussy like they were STARVED animals. Even after your second orgasm they never stopped, sliding their tongues in your hole and fingers rubbing your clit, their tongues meeting in the process. You were near passing out and they decided to let you rest. Finally!

G!p besties WinChae who cleaned you up and made you wear your clothes and brought you home with them. Cuddling you the rest of the day, planting kisses everywhere they could and whispering sweet nothings into your ears! While both of their seed is still inside of you!😶

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thelastofhyde · 3 months

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hit the road, jack!

pairing. ex!jack daniels x fem!reader synopsis. the last time you sat in jack’s infamous bronco, you broke his heart. now, a year later, you’re sitting in it with a mud-stained wedding dress and he’s driving you back to the man you left at the altar. is one night, a thousand miles, and a well-timed car radio enough to remind you of the love you shared? warnings. road trip au, exes to lovers, runaway bride!reader, mutual pining, miscommunication/no communication, idiots in love, exes in love, minor character death, infidelity, one ( 1 ) comment regarding food restriction, mentions of period, smut ( unprotected piv, dirty talk, sex in public spaces, implied creampie, fairly non-descriptive ) the reader of this fic is mostly non-descript, with mentions of having hair long enough to stick to her neck when wet and hands smaller than jack's. word count. 14.7k hyde's input. quick disclaimer that this fic was admittedly better in my head, but i tried my best :') it unfortunately never got to reach it's full potential as my friends dragged me off on an unexpected trip on friday for my birthday (which is today aka the 23rd). because of that, i've not had time to finish the last few scenes as well as i'd hoped to (it's literally 5 am as i'm editing it bc it's the only chance i've had) but i don't want to post this any later as this is my entry to the #SummerLovin'24 event, organised and hosted by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery & @amanitacowboy , a massive thank you to them for creating such a fun event. i really enjoyed taking part and i can not wait to sink my teeth into the other amazing fics from this event. if you care to listen, here is a playlist of songs mentioned/featured in the fic.

INTRO — silver springs.

“Time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me.”

Stevie Nicks et al chant out of old speakers, a bass blown out over time and an intruding static that demands to play alongside the band. Perched upon the bar counter, they sit adjacent to a cash register that shakes each time it opens, a slam seemingly the only way to close it. The swish of a mop over chequered vinyl flooring and the squeaks of a waitress’ coffee-stained sneakers play to their own tune. The passing of time turns it all to background noise.

Through lunch, through dinner, and two shift changes you’ve survived. Out in the parking lot now sits only a semi-truck, its drivers, two men in scuffed boots and jeans that fray at their seams, the only other customers that remain. One tucks into a Sloppy Joe, the other has fallen asleep against the table, his coffee turning as cold as your own.

You ordered the coffee for nothing more than an excuse to sit a while longer. Time for figuring out what’s next. What you’ll do, where you’ll go, how you’ll get there. The elderly couple who’d been kind enough to take you off the side of the road, moving luggage into the trunk to make space for you in the backseats, are now long gone from the roadside diner.

It wasn’t a sorrowful departure. You were quite happy to see them leave, and take their pitiful glances and unasked questions with them. The looks still linger on in others. Each pair of eyes you’ve encountered, dragging over the expanse of your messed up hair, and your smudged eyes, and your mud-stained gown. It’s not hard to imagine the scenes they play out in their heads, of a bride scorned and abandoned on what was meant to be the happiest day of her life, a day meant for vows and first dances twisted into one of heartbroken wandering and roadside pit-stops.

You wonder if any of them know you’re not the victim, but the aggressor. The one who fled, leaving behind a bouquet of striped carnations, marigolds, and purple hyacinths.

Tires crunch on gravel as a car rolls into the parking lot. Whichever fool sits behind the wheel has their full beams on. A light flickers over your head. It’s been doing so for the past hour, an irritating reflection in the window that steals your attention back into the diner.

The waitress is eyeing you again, a weary look on her face that tells you she wants to approach but doesn’t know how. Maybe she wants to ask if you’re okay, or enquire about the events that led you here, deep in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe she just wants you to close your tab and leave.

The bell above the door rings as it opens. It’s been a while since you heard it do so. A smile comes over the waitress as she greets the newcomer. Her eyes seem to take them in, slowly. From top to bottom, and right back to the top. Innocent, if not a little flirtatious. She’d not looked at either of the truckers that way. Perhaps this is her lover, here to wait about and keep a watchful eye as she works the night shift. You can’t imagine it’s the safest place in the world for a woman to find herself working through the twilight hours, nothing but open road and sky-rise trees surrounding the diner.

A sip from your coffee. It’s as cold as you expected. Bitter too, having not found your voice in time to ask for sugar. Your stomach growls, a plea for a meal. If you’d only stayed at the venue, you’d be full of vanilla frosting, and smoked oysters, and… had it been the coronation chicken or the roast sirloin the wedding planner had gone with in the end? You can’t remember. What you do remember is her unwanted advice: just stick to some light bites, no bride wants a food-baby in her pictures.

In retrospect, you’d disliked her from the moment you met her. But you had no desire to plan a wedding. And no time either, much to your future mother-in-law’s chagrin. So out she’d gone, a cat on the hunt, dragging home some mousy-brown haired wedding planner as a sacrificial lamb. Better it be her than you who stresses over the shade of napkins, and the taste of merlots, and the seating arrangements.

Footsteps thud against the floor. Slow, deliberate, not a stumble in the way they move. You stare back out the window and spy a cowboy hat reflected in it. It belongs to the waitress’ lover, who by now is likely making his way over to pull her in real close and swoon her with a kiss only men blessed by southern charm possess.

A different version of you, a happier version, used to be kissed like that every morning.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” The voice of a man echoes. Softly spoken, yet loudly heard in the quiet of the diner. In the window, the cowboy hat stands right behind you. You turn slowly, let your eyes dance over its owner. Like a sculpture plucked out of ancient Rome, he’s a fine art only the most delicate hands could shape. He’s brown-eyed affection. He’s an aquiline nose. He’s a well-groomed moustache. He’s Jack. “Think it’s a few miles up north they’re expecting a pretty bride.”

Leather jackets and well-fitted jeans have been traded in for a suit. Simple, classic. White shirt, black tie, a trademark cowboy hat you’d never failed to spot amongst any crowd. There’s a crinkle where a cheeky grin meets eyes framed by full brows and lashes, a scar on his right temple a reminder of the kind of man he is. Dauntless, righteous, brave. An undercover agent, posing as the CFO of one of the largest whiskey distilleries in the world.

An illusion plays out where no time has passed and his is still the face you come home to each night. A lot can change in a year, however, like the bed you sleep in, or the ring upon your finger.

He welcomes himself into the seat across from you. The protective barrier of a water-ring stained table keeps a safe distance between you both, yet you still feel his knee knock against your own as he makes himself comfortable. One arm stretched over the backrest, the other rests against the table and drums a nervous tune with his fingers.

“You’ve worried a lot of people, darliln’,” his gaze studies you. You wonder if it’s the same look he used to give his targets. The thought sours the sweetness of seeing his pretty eyes after all these months. “Runnin’ off like that, not even a hoot or a holler to let your daddy know you’re alright.”

Your dad. He’d slipped off to the bathroom, a kiss to your cheek and a promise he’d be back in time to walk you down the aisle. What must he have thought, rounding the corner to the sight of a bouquet, abandoned a la Cinderella and her glass slipper. Before you stew in guilt for too long, the rest of Jack’s words catch up to you.

He knew you ranaway. That glimpse of a cowboy hat amongst the pews had not been an illusion.

Jack was at the wedding.

“What happened?” His hand seeks you out. Warm as you remember him to be, large enough to engulf your smaller palm in his. “Why’d you run?” You stay quiet. Shrug your shoulders, eventually, and stare down as his thumb brushes over your knuckles. “You gonna give me a proper answer, sweetheart?”

Another shoulder shrug leads Jack to a sigh. There’s a pause in the quiet tension brewing between you, in the shape of the smiling waitress, pen and pad in hand. Her eyes seem to dart between you both, and you can almost hear her wondering who Jack is, if he’s the man you were meant to meet at the end of the aisle. There’d been a time when yes was the only possible answer to such a question.

“A glass of your finest whiskey. Neat, of course. And how ‘bout somethin’ to please a sweet tooth, hm?” His foot bumps yours beneath the table, calling you to look at him. You meet his eyes, watch him raise his brows in question. “Spied a pretty mean lookin’ cherry pie on my way in. That sound good to you, darlin’?” Your mute staring continues. Your stomach takes control, answers him with a disgruntled growl from within. His head turns to the side, laughing, and he nods at the waitress. “Think she’s gonna need a slice of that pie, miss!”

The right to speak returns to you at last, as you watch the glass of liquid caramel be placed down in front of him, head turning to stare out the window, a familiar Bronco sits poorly parked, obnoxious in the way it treads the line of two parking spaces.

“You shouldn’t drink and drive.”

Surprise flashes over his face, but he recovers quickly, untensing his shoulders as he sinks further into the booth. “Didn't order it for me,” he slides the glass of whiskey over to you. “Eat up, drink up. You need it.”

Though it kills you to admit it, the first bite out of the pie feels like heaven in your mouth. Tart, sweet, with pastry so golden it’s as if King Midas baked it under the heat of his own hands. A sip of the whiskey isn’t so great, but you stomach the burn and accept the erasure of nerves it promises. Your eagerness to clear the plate and empty the glass has nothing to do with the approving smile Jack watches you with.

“How did you find me?”

“You doubtin’ my skills?” He’s teasing. You know this. Still, you fall into the trap of a panicked head shake, a cough over the final bite of cherry goodness. “I stopped at a gas station. Runnin’ on an empty in the middle of nowhere ain’t on my list of wants, you see. Overheard two kids talkin’ about some bride sittin’ at a dinner a few miles down. Don’t take no Hercule Poirot to figure it was you”

“Oh.”

You shouldn’t feel disappointed by his answer, there’s no reason a man you hurt so deeply would have any vested interest in finding you.

The last you’d seen of Jack was through your car’s rear-view mirror, his tear stricken face watching you drive away, five years of clothes, and shoes, and memories stuffed into your car. He’d begged you not to leave your shared home; offered to sleep in the spare room, give you both time to work things out between you. You’d been the one to declare it useless.

“This isn’t something we can fix, Jack!”

“But, darlin’, I love you.”

“A happy coincidence, I was lookin’ for ya anyway. You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours yet?” At least this time your mute stare is paired with a head shake. “Look, I mean well when I say this, but darlin’, you’re lookin’ a mighty mess. Now, a pretty mess that may be, but a mess all the same.” His hand is back on yours, squeezing with enough strength to ground you and keep you from floating off into the landscape of your own conflicted mind. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna take a trip to the gents, then I’m gonna square up whatever we owe this fine establishment, and then we’re gettin’ that pretty caboose of yours up'n out of here.”

Frozen where you sit, it takes a few moments for the warmth of whiskey to settle in your bones, lurching you forward when it does, a gasp and a tight grip at his wrist, holding him back before he can stroll away from the table.

“Where are we going?”

“For a drive, sweetheart.”

TRACK 1 — vienna

You and Jack are no strangers to a late night drive.

An entire love story, told within the confines of four wheels and a chassis. The very night you met, you wound up in his passenger seat, arms up in the air and the wind blowing through your hair, the charming cowboy next to you taking every joyful laugh as a plea to go faster, nothing ahead but the open road and a southern voice crooning out of the radio. Too lost in your own head, that’s what he’d claimed you to be, having strolled up to a lonely-you in a crowded bar, lamenting over a glass of bitter white wine, freshly fired and with no real clue of what you were going to do next. Never one to entertain a stranger, you’d tried to brush him off, but he flashed that smile and invited you, so tenderly as the intro to a Bruce Springsteen song began to play, to just give him one dance.

One dance led to unimaginable love.

As time passed, a relationship burst into full bloom, the imprint of you carved into the car’s leather. Jack insisted you grow accustomed to the life of a passenger princess. He picked you up from work, drove you to all your girls’ night outs, sacrificed hours of necessary sleep to drop you at airports, and train stations, and whatever other public transport your work trips demanded you to travel upon. But how could you dream of saying no when you got to ogle the view of him, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, effortlessly manoeuvring his beloved vehicle.

The car came on couples' vacations, too, road trip getaways. Up north, past the Canadian borders, and down south to the skyline of Mexico City. Out west, a trail up to the Grand Canyon, the Empire State Building in the east. But the late night drives, those were your favourite. Times when life felt too much, with work stressing you out, or your parents giving you grief, or a stress headache gnawing away at your remaining sanity, Jack would tug you wordlessly out into the driveway, buckle your seatbelt, and drive off into the night. Roof down, radio on, the cool breeze clearing your mind.

The only breeze you feel now blows in through an open window.

Pulling away from the diner, Jack turned the wheels south, out into the dark of the night. Trees wall the road in, a never ending sea of pine-green lit by headlights, the looming presence of a dark, dangerous, rumbling sky above. A storm brews ahead, awaiting the perfect moment to crack open and drop a downpour on the world. Little words have been exchanged between you, most of them spoken by Jack, as he tells you about the nightmare he had checking in at his hotel, and the difficulty he had finding the venue, and just how beautiful you look in your dress, tears tracks and messy hair aside. Softly playing over the radio, Billy Joel seems to speak to you, pleading that you slow down, you crazy child.

“D’you remember our trip to Vienna?”

Your head snaps over to Jack. His eyes remain on the road ahead, and a part of you is thankful, unsure of how you’d fare gazing into them as melancholy tangles itself in their shades of brown. The other part misses how it used to feel to catch him watching you from the driver’s seat, affection incarnate as his loving gaze burned heat into your cheeks, your own voice pleading him to pay attention to the road, the light’s already green, Jack!

“How could I forget you almost getting us kicked out of Saint Peter’s church?”

“Hey, now darlin’, let’s not start playin’ the blame game!” His head turns once in your direction, a teasing smile splashed upon his rosy lips. You try not to think about how you’ve felt that very smile pressed against your mouth, memorised the shape of it so perfectly you could draw it with your eyes shut. “You knew what you were doin’ wearin’ that pretty little sundress.”

The dress in question had been a purposeful attack, an attempt at getting payback for the night prior, in which Jack found pleasure in reducing you to tears, begging for release hour after hour, after hour of edging touches. Never the best at putting up a fight against his pouting lips, pleading eyes, and filthy tongue, you’d caved into his hands the moment they skimmed their way up the length of your thigh, the watchful eyes of any Lord above be damned.

“I still dream of the garden’s at Schönbrunn Palace,” a sigh floats out of you as your brain hits play on a kaleidoscope of memories of strolling the grounds, hand in hand with a man you’d imagined yourself being with for the rest of your life.

If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes? He’d asked, as you watched a couple get engaged before your very eyes.

Promise me we’ll get married here, and I’ll consider it.

“I still have nightmares of the boat.”

“The boat!” The patterns in the kaleidoscope shift into images of a viennan skyline reflected upon glassy waters, a city cruise dragging you down the canal. “I still can’t believe you fell off it!”

“I jumped.”

“Backwards? Just admit it, you fell into that water!”

“I jumped, to make you laugh!”

“Oh, don’t worry, me and the coast guard were definitely laughing!”

A silence settles between you both. Jack drums his fingers along to the closing notes of the song, your foot does the same. It crosses your mind that this, in itself, may very well be a dream. Sitting back in the Bronco, staring over at Jack as he drives you both into the aimless night. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s visited your dreams.

You watch him inhale, deeply. With a blink, his eyes reflect the moonlight, glassy with unfallen tears, the image of him too beautiful to be fiction.

“Sometimes I wish we’d never left Vienna.”

His words cut you deep, the sorrow he speaks them with cuts you deeper. Barely a week back in your own home, suitcases still unpacked, pulling into the driveway hours after the unexpected funeral of a friend, you broke both your hearts.

All that goes up must come down and, in the very same place your relationship started, it ended. Sat across from him, rain beating down on the windows, tears trailing down your face. He begged you to stop before those words came out of your mouth, tried his best to switch the engine back on and pull out into the road. You’re just stressed, darlin’, he’d said, a deceptive whine in his voice cracking his straight-faced facade. Just need to clear your head, right? Lemme take ya for a drive. It was too late, your own hand curling back around the handle and forcing the door open, the water from outside flooding in. I’m sorry, I can’t be with you. Not anymore.

“Yeah,” you exhale, shaky. Swallowed emotions, a tight lipped smile, eyes that search for sanctuary out the window. “Me too.”

In the wing-mirror, lighting crashes amidst the sea of pine-green.

TRACK 2 — purple rain

A perfect summer’s storm.

Mother nature’s mid-June release of pent-up heat, making space amongst the skies for what’s yet to come in the scorching months of July and August, the last of any rain to be seen until September brings back the sombre skies and cooler weather. The rain falls heavily, a persistent thump-thump-thump of water that bounces off the car’s roof, bonnet, windows. In the sky, thunder roars an angry sound, each one louder than the last, followed by an even brighter flash of lighting that electrifies its surroundings, turning the black night into shades of violet, and midnight, and indigo, and purple.

“You’ve not bought any new albums? None at all?” The question comes as you flip through Jack’s collection of discs, a notable lack of change in his roster since the last time you’d sat in his car.

This lack of change is likely not without good reason, like the lack of time to go CD hunting between secret missions to save the world, or a general lack of interest in newer records. He’s always been a fan of the old fashion, after all, the home you’d once shared made up of collections of vintage whiskeys, and classic records, and faded wallpaper that he convinced you gave the kitchen charm.

“Nothin’ new since…” His eyes shift over your way, the look in them enough to wordlessly end his sentence. “You were always the one buyin’ me music. Said you didn’t want me get-”

“Getting bored on missions,” impulse seems to be what forces you to speak, an honest smile sent his way. “I remember.”

It had been a while into your relationship, with i-love-yous and apartment keys exchanged, until the truth of Jack’s job came up.

On your first date, he’d told you he was a businessman. A few dates later, he specified that he was an investor, dipping his fingers into the honey jar of some classically Texa whiskey distillery. Only a half lie, and not one that was hard to believe. Every fibre of his being, stitches and loose threads included, made sense as a man in the business of selling whiskey. The overzealous amount of Statesman whiskeys occupying the shelves in his apartment, the photos he’d send of the view from his high-rise office, the endless number of suits and ties that occupied his wardrobe, even his damn name, Jack Daniels.

Then, out came the truth.

A phone call from one of Jack’s co-workers, Ginger, lasting no more than five minutes and of which only three words mattered: Jack’s been shot.

A bullet through his head. Any ordinary man would have died. Yet there was your Jack, eyes open, a measly bandage over his temple, and standing up-right. To your own credit, you managed to keep a grasp on your sanity long enough to drive him home, cook him dinner, and sit yourself down across from him at the table. But when he pricked his finger on the tip of his knife, the rivulet of blood dripping down his finger was enough to send you over the edge. Open mouthed sobs, hands clinging to him the instant he sank down on his knees at your side, tears staining every inch of his white cotton t-shirt.

You could’ve died, Jack.

Now how could I go dyin’, when I got such a pretty reason to live for?

You begged with questions, he promised with answers. Hands intertwining with your own, a gentle voice guiding you out the apartment, the soft slam of a car door closing. He turned the key in the ignition, pulled your hand up to his mouth for a kiss, and drove you both off into the night. Under the melodic fall of rain beating down on the car, you came to terms with three facts: Jack was involved in the business of selling whiskey; Jack was otherwise known as agent Whiskey, esteemed senior agent to the Statesmen secret intelligence agency; and Jack was not often shot- at least not in the head.

Arriving home that night, with the rain falling heavy on your front lawn, you’d tried your best to dash from the car and into the house but Jack had other plans. He’d gripped your hand, and pulled you close, and kissed you under the flash of lighting. And when you dared whine that your clothes were soaked, he held you tighter and let himself guide your body into a gentle sway, two lovers under the moonlight and the storm. That night had ended with a fatal promise from Jack, your limbs entangled upon a shared bed, his lips pressing into your forehead.

I promise I’ll always come home to you safe.

“Don’t need no discs anyway, already got all I need right here,” Jack’s impeccable timing, seemingly sensing the shift in your demeanour. It’s like he knows what you’re thinking about, and trying to drag you out of the past and back to the present, his fingers stretching over to turn the volume up. A familiar set of haunting chords plays over the radio, a grin instantly appearing on his face. “Shit, they even got Princ-”

“Stop the car.”

“Huh?”

“Just pull over, Jack!”

Despite the confusion, he abides by your words, foot pressing down on the break, hands steering the wheels off-road, fingers switch the car off. Without the hum of the engine, the rainfall grows louder, the view out the windscreen suddenly blocked behind a wall of flowing water. The radio plays on, the voice of an angel singing lyrics that so aptly match the purple shades painted across the sky by the storm above. There’s a cautious echo of your name, and, for a moment, it’s easy to forget this is the first time you’ve heard him actually say it in over a year. It feels like just yesterday he was calling out to you, begging with solutions you weren’t willing to give.

Your heart beats with a longing to escape your chest, hard and steady against the cage that is your ribs. Your eyes fill with emotions from the past and of the present, as every version of yourself that’s sat within this car comes together as one. Your hand curls around the silver grip of the door, pulling it open and lunging yourself out into the pouring rain.

Under the storm's wrath, you’re reborn. Baptised by mother nature, a soul cleansed of all its prior troubles, returned to you brand new and free of heartbreak. As the rain soaks your face, your neck, your dress, it washes all the pain away. Breathing easy, head tilted back, eyes closed. It's the feeling of being alive, an anomalous euphoria found only beneath a thunderous sky. The tears that dare fall here mean little, a known comfort that they’ll mix with the rain and be swept away.

Enthralled under the moonlight and barefoot, you drift on through the trees that line these woods, chasing the sweet promise of petrichor. You’re unsure if it comes from the sky, or the trees, or Jack, but something calls your name. A fallen tree trunk becomes your own personal tightrope as you dance over the length of it, one careful foot in front of the other, arms stretched out to the heavens above. All it takes is one misplaced step and you lose your footing, slipping over moss and bracing for impact that never arrives.

“Heaven to Betsy, darlin’!” Jack’s hands, warm as a summer breeze, catch you by the waist, your shoulder socking him square in the face as you fall back into his figure. He makes no complaint of pain, taking it like a champ and placing you back down on steady ground, upon unsteady feet. “Did’ya sneak a few extra whiskeys when I was takin’ a leak?”

You open your mouth to reply, to deny, but the rain comes to a stop, and the thunder no longer rumbles, and the moonlight breaks through the parting blanket of clouds, and you’re suddenly so aware of how close you both are.

Like his hands, do his lips still feel the same? Soft as a feather, pillowy as a cloud, as sweet as a peach? It’s not something a married woman should be thinking about another man, about the man another version of her had loved.

But you’re not a married woman, are you?

Wet to the bone, it's as if your wedding dress has shrunk, possessive linen meant to warn you away from leaning forward till your face meets his.

“Careful where you point those eyes, sweetheart. Don’t go givin’ me a reason to make a dishonest woman out of you.” His warning only makes you want to lean in more, test just how dishonest he’s willing to make you, in a dress you wore for another man, upon a forest floor covered by moss, and mud, and rainfall.

He’s stepping back and holding out his hand before you can even try, saving you the trouble of mixing up your head even more.

Careful steps back to his car, where the radio plays on as Prince’s voice slowly fades out. The headlights are back on, the key sits in the ignition, and you half wonder just how quickly he chased after you, abandoning his precious car so carelessly at the side of a darkened country road, free for any Tom, Bill, or Sally to claim for themselves.

“You’re lucky I got spare clothes in the back,” Jack’s voice echoes out from where he stands, bent at the waist, and rummaging through the floor of the back seats. You want to think he’s not going this on purpose, putting himself on display so obviously, but it feels easier on your conscience to blame him for your own inability to stray your eyes away from how snugly the soaked dress pants hug his behind. “Ain’t no hope in hell I’d let you in my car, all drippin’ wet.”

“You never used to complain about me being wet in your car.”

It’s a quickfire response, the kind you don’t quite get the chance to think over before you say it. Though it may shock your own ears to hear, it seems to shock poor Jack more, the smack with which his head hits against the car’s roof loud enough that you almost feel it in your skull.

You rush over to his side, dress dragging through more mud, and more leaves, and more broken gravel. No chance to even rest your hand upon his arm, Jack’s already pulled himself out the car to face you, a splash of pink brewing across his cheeks and a hand soothing over the back of his head. In the backseats, his hat lays abandoned, knocked off in the commotion.

“Can’t just be sayin’ things like that, darlin’,” he says as he holds out a change of clothes for you, smugness in his voice yet a shake in his hand. “Not unless you’re tryin’ to give old Jack over here a heart attack.”

In silence, you both turn your back on each other. Jack does so in spare of your modesty, and you, in search of someplace dry to lay down his clothes. You do so upon the passenger seat, hands immediately contorting every manner of way they can to reach the dress’ buttons that span down the length of your spine, each more finicky than the last. You manage to free only two, in the very centre, before you sigh and wonder if the entrapment you feel in the white gown could get any more literal than this.

“Jack,” it only feels right to seek out his aid, you tell yourself, the sooner the buttons are undone, the sooner the dress will be off, the sooner you’ll be changed, and the sooner you’ll both get back on the road again, destination unknown. It only makes sense, really, so who could blame you when you say, “come help me out my dress.”

No reply comes your way.

At first, you think he’s not heard you. Then, you worry that he has, and is choosing to ignore such a request, thinking it best he keeps his hands away from any act that involves undressing you. Then, fear that you’ve given him that heart attack after all. Fingers brush wet hair off your shoulders before you can turn to check on the cowboy.

Cicadas scream out into the night, and some faceless host rants over the car radio about the rising conspiracy theory of spycams in childrens’ toys, and your heart beats louder than any set of drums could ever hope, but all you can hear is the steady breaths Jack pulls in and blows out behind you, so close you feel each exhale brush your skin. His fingers do so too, with each button they pop loose, each inch of skin he reveals.

Before you can ask him to touch you with more than just his mouth and breath, his own voice fills your ears.

“I used to dream about doin’ this someday.”

“I think we both know this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten a girl out her dress, Jack.”

“Is your mind ever anywhere but the damn gutter?” A pinch delivered against your left side, a chastising tsk accompanying his words. “I meant that I dreamt about this, me helpin’ you take your weddin’ dress off.”

There’s an audible hitch in your breath, one that perfectly tells Jack everything your own voice seems to fail to. Air stings at your eyes, yet you refuse to blink, too aware of the tears building within them. His warm hands dance back up your spine as the final button is loosened, tracing slowly over skin he’d once memorised, a missionary returning to the land it once knew.

Your dress falls to the floor.

“‘Course I never thought I’d be doin’ it on the side of the road, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

TRACK 3 — lover you should’ve come over

“Wait, are these pyjama pants?”

The realisation dawns upon you twenty minutes after you hit the road again. Confined to the small space of the Bronco with little to look at— besides Jack, his clothes still damp and smelling of summer rain, a towel laid over his seat— you’ve resorted to the finer details, picking apart the scraps of clothing he’d handed you. A plain white t-shirt that, when paired with one of his tight-fitting jeans and a corduroy-lined leather bomber jacket, becomes a Jack Daniels staple. You find it best to ignore how it smells of campfire, and sweat, and the cologne you’d bought Jack on your last anniversary. He’s paired it with a pair of blue chequered pyjama pants, loose-fitting yet tied securely around your waist by a fraying draw-string.

“Took myself and the old gal up to Alaska a few weeks back, chasin’ after a view of the Northern Lights.” There’s a flash of something hot, bright, green as you register his words, myself and the old gal, tamed and dampened only when you remember that’s what Jack calls the Bronco, his old gal. “I was livin’ out my car the whole trip, figured it was easier than trynna find some inn out in the middle of the Alaskan woods. In fact, if you check down there, pretty sure you’ll find some uneaten energy bars I packed for the trip.”

He seems to point aimlessly down at a space around your legs, hand back on the wheel and guiding the wheels around a harsh bend before you can truly pinpoint what he’s referring to. You settle on the glove compartment, sitting upright and reaching a hand out to pop it open.

Then you remember what it houses, the weapons Jack carries in there. The lasso, the whip, the pistol, the bullets. A sickness burns your throat, your eyes unable to even glance down at the opened compartment, instead searching for Jack’s own eyes that stare back with equal amounts of surprise.

“I forgot those were in there.” He steals the words right out your own mouth, a nervous chuckle following them. You’d known to never touch the dreaded compartment, for your own sake, too eager to forget about the parts of him that made him an agent, the parts of him that put him in danger. “You can read ‘em, if you want. They were written for you anyway.”

Confusion floods the soul, curiosity winning over survival and dictating that you muster the courage to turn your head, take a peak at what sits inside the glove box. When you do look, you find there’s no whip nor pistol, no piece of Agent Whiskey in sight. What is there are the energy bars he’d promised, a hiking guidebook of sorts, a map, and a stack of wrinkled envelopes.

One glance back at Jack, he encourages you to take them with a nod, and so, you do. Feel the weight of them all in your hands, do your best to not drop any as you pull them out onto your lap. They scatter all over you, each a different shade of white, unopened and all sporting a red return to sender stamp. All appear addressed to the same place, and it takes only a moment of wondering why it seems so familiar for you to realise.

It’s your old address.

“They’re all labelled with dates, I wrote the first one a few weeks after you left. Wasn’t sure where you’d moved to, I figured there was a chance you’d gone back to your old place. I never forgot about how much you loved that apartment,” he says, and you did. Leaving it behind had been hard, the first real home you’d made for yourself since moving out of your parent’s place, the first space you made your own in the world. The idea of making a new space with Jack, a place you could build together, share together, had outweighed the pain of saying goodbye to your little one-bed apartment. “Wrote the second one because you didn’t reply, and I was missin’ you. Then I just kept writin’ em, and sendin’ em, and waitin’ on you writin’ back, even if just to tell me to get lost. I got a note back, along with the letters, but it wasn’t from you. Some older couple moved in to your old place, told me they’d been keepin’ em all safe incase you ever came round to collect your old mail, but they figured it was time I stopped writin’ to a ghost.”

Attentive to his every word, you search for the letter with the earliest date. Sent two weeks after things ended, with a colourful stamp and a seal that’s slightly opened at the edges, the glue’s hold loosening with time and neglect. You tear it open completely and unfold the sheets of paper found within, eyes drawn immediately three quarters down the page.

I saw our friends tonight for the first time since you left. They asked how you’re doing and where you were. I thought they were just being cruel at first but no, they didn’t know about the break up. I told them you weren’t feeling well, that you decided to stay home tonight. I guess I just wanted one more night where you were still mine, even if it was just in the eyes of our friends. I will tell the truth next time I see them.

You feel as though you’re invading his privacy, reading over words he’d written months ago, despite being the intended audience. That doesn’t mean you have the willpower to stop, however, eyes diving deeper down the page.

Or maybe I won’t have to tell them. Maybe, next time I see them, you’ll have come home. There’s still a chance for us. I believe it because I love you. You said this wasn’t something we can fix. I think you’re wrong. There’s never been an issue we couldn’t solve by talking it through, why should this one be any different? Let’s get coffee, darling. Our usual place, our usual time, next Tuesday. We can get through this, you just have to let me know it’s something you want, that I’m something you still want.

Jack’s quiet in the driver’s seat, forgiving with the time he gives you to read over his letters. When the turning of pages and the ripping of envelopes rings too heavy in the car, your shoulders tensing up in a discomfort of disrupting the peaceful silence, he wordlessly turns the radio back up and the voice of Jeff Buckley greets you both.

You return to his letters, the second he’d sent already open in your palm.

I went to our usual spot. You never showed up. Your lack of reply to my letter should have been enough to tell me that, but I still had hope. Maybe I really am a fool. Our friends seem to think so. I told them about us and they immediately asked what I’d done wrong. There was no answer I could give them. The worst thing isn’t just that I’ve lost you, it’s that I don’t even know why.

You open the next envelope, and the next one, and the next one, paragraphs melting together into a heartbroken shape.

I tried to sleep in our bed. I lasted half an hour before crawling back to the guest room. Our room just feels too empty without you. I smell you everywhere no matter how many new sheets I buy.

Eggsy and Tilde got married. It’s the first wedding I’ve been to without you. I’m doing a lot of firsts without you recently. I hate it. Our friends (am I wrong to call them our friends? I’m not ready to just call them mine) tried setting me up with someone new. They showed me a picture and she’s beautiful, but I just kept comparing her to you. Against your beauty, she’s nothing.

Your mother was at the Statesman ground tour today. I was surprised to see her, she already done the tour years ago. I tried not to talk about you too much, I didn’t want her knowing how desperate I am to hear about you. Congratulations on your promotion, I always knew you’d get it. I’m so proud of you for finally applying for it. I heard you’ve started seeing somebody, a veteran turned mechanic. Your mother was kind enough to give me his name. I hope you understand that I don’t want to invade your privacy but I had to make sure you’re safe. The guy’s got a clean slate, other than a sketchy trip down to South America with some other vets. He seems like a good man. I want you to get your happy ending. Are you happy? I’m not.

Only one envelope remains unopened. The weight of it sits heavy in your lap, a fear settling in that has you not wanting to open it. You study the front of it, find out it was mailed three months ago. The radio moves in sync with you, it seems, the song that plays reaching its climatic moment at the same time as you do, tearing open the final letter. Next to you, Jack clears his throat and wrings his hands over the steering wheel.

This last one, you read the letter in full.

Darling girl,

Spring came faster this year. The daffodils you planted bloomed in early March. I’ve been tending to the garden, I know how much love you put into it. The flowers are coming up alright, the fruit and vegetables not so much. If only I had your green thumb.

I visited Tequila last week. I don’t know if it’s right to call him that anymore. Champ’s still not named his successor, part of me thinks he wants to retire it. That’s not what Tequila would’ve wanted. He would’ve wanted Ginger taking on the mantle. The grounds he’s on are beautiful, if not sombre. They overlook a lake, and the grass is cut everyday, and the sun shines on his grave from sunrise to sunset. I didn’t say much to him, just sat and enjoyed the view. Thought about a lot of things, and finally realised why you left.

You were scared. For me. I thought you were being selfish, breaking my heart like that, but I finally understand how awful that day must’ve been for you. We’d just buried my comrade, our friend, and you had to watch Tequila’s wife say her last goodbye, knowing it was almost me in that casket and you on the podium. That was my mission he went on, I could’ve been the one who didn’t come home to the woman I love.

I’m sorry I took so long to understand. I retired from my position at Statesman. I’m agent Whiskey no more. I’m coming to find you, and hope you give me one last real try at fixing us.

Love always,

your Jack.

“Your wedding invitation found me first,” Jack says, foot off the accelerator, eyes off the road, hands on the wheel.

The weight of his stare drags down to your lap, where the heap of papers now all sit, piled atop one another and rustling with every movement you make. Your own eyes have welled with tears that slip down the apples of your cheeks and splash the papers below, smudging the ink.

The confirmation of his invite knocks out the questions of how he wound up in the pews.

“I didn’t invite you,” you’re unsure if the truth is crueller than fiction. No part of you wants him to think you’d be so spiteful, so hurtful as to invite him to a day you’d once promised to share together. “I didn’t invite anyone. I was… busy, with work. My mom dealt with the invites, she must’ve written you down by accident.”

Your lips may be the ones to say it, but your own ears struggle to believe. Your mother’s always been a meticulous woman, practical, with her affairs eternally in order. The only mistakes she makes are the ones she means to.

“Yeah,” Jack sighs out from the driver’s seat, resignation in his voice. “I figured you didn’t invite me.”

TRACK 4 — 50 ways to leave your lover

Jack drives deeper into the night.

Out the car window, you watch as the world flies by, a blur of unlit trees and unmarked road signs. Earlier’s storm has rolled away and revealed the blanket of stars above, twinkling alongside a full moon. The road is long, and winding, and seemingly never ending. There’s no discussion of destination, no sanctuary you’re waiting to reach. You feel no urgency for it, either. So long as you sit right where you are, passenger in a car, you don’t have to take the wheel, you don’t have to choose where to go, or what to do. You can just exist within this liminal space, where no wedding lies in the balance and no hearts lay broken.

It’s just you and Jack, like the old days, going for a drive.

“Ask me,” permission comes off your tongue as you observe the driver and his less than subtle glances your way. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. Everything you wanted to know in the diner, I promise I’ll answer this time.”

“I guess I’m tryin’ to put myself in your shoes, figure out what was runnin’ through that pretty head of yours,” Jack is, at his core, a gentleman. For hours, he’s let you sit beside him, biting his own tongue and fighting back his own curiosity, a trait so vital to his existence it led him into a world of spies, and guns, and movie-esque kinds of evil. Even now, with your promised approval, he eases his way into his questioning, the part of him that knows you better than your own self dictating that this is something he must address with care. “How’d you do it?”

“I just slipped out the back, Jack,” there’s a chuckle of sorts that welcomes itself out the depths of Jack’s chest, your choice of words going hand in hand with that of the Paul Simon record reaching its end over the radio. As quick as the humour appears, it goes, leaving nothing but the unfortunate reality of the situation. “Someone left a door open, it led out onto the back gardens. The further away I got, the faster I started to run. I made it all the way past the highway on foot before an older couple pulled over. They dropped me off at a diner, and that’s where I stayed until-”

“Until I found you,” it’s a reminder you shouldn’t want, the image of Jack setting off to find you in the midst of the commotion of a missing bride. It’s not healthy for your poor psyche, already at odds with what it wants, no need for further complications brought on by unresolved feelings. You can’t help but smile at him, however, no filter strong enough to cover your subconscious’ joy. “Why did you run away?”

Your smile fades.

The promise you made is already at threat of being broken. You thought there’d be more questions, more time until he hit you with the heaviest of them all.

Why did you run away?

You know the answer. Of course you’ve known the answer, from the moment you decided to turn on your heel and sprint down the halls, in search of an escape. As much as you can pretend otherwise, and feign naivete, you can’t change the truth. That doesn’t mean you’re ready to admit it out loud, and so you refute it with a question of your own: “Why did you come to the wedding?”

It would be easy to forgive Jack for getting irate when faced with your avoidant response. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he spins the steering wheel and shoots you a smile, the kind that used to keep you warm at night.

“I wasn’t goin’ to come at first,” comes his admittance. You can’t say you blame him, really, a picture of yourself in his shoes, receiving an invite to his wedding. The thought conjures a painful throb from your heart. “Nearly tossed the damn thing into the fireplace when I got it. A few weeks later, I met with Champ for a drink. Drank myself blind, till I started tellin’ him all about the invite. He told me I had to come.”

A lift of your eyebrows, a snap of your head towards him. There’s a desire to have his full attention on you. There’s also the awareness that the road acts as a buffer for the tensing heartache that swells and lulls between you, each exchange of words a game of painful chess. You make the choice to bring forth a pawn this once, a simple why?

“He said I’ve been livin’ with life on pause since you left, maybe watchin’ you marry another man would be the thing to help me hit play at last.”

INTERLUDE — go your own way

Like tires upon gravel, time rolls on.

No matter how easy it is to forget about the world outside, look out the window and pretend you’re simply on a train, trapped in a constant onward motion, there’s no ignoring the orange glow that begins to grow on the horizon, nor the red lights on the car radio that read 05:38. A new day grows fast upon you and, where you remain mute to it, Jack can not allow the fantasy to go on any longer.

The tires screech against the gravel and everything comes to a stop.

“Thinkin’ time’s up, sweetheart,” his hands retreat from the wheel, finding purchase on his thighs. You try not to follow their descent over the tailored suit, try not to think about the thick muscles that sit hidden beneath the black trousers. It’s not your place to think about them anymore. “Where are you goin’?”

Decision has never been something you’ve struggled with, much less when the choices are so simple and limited. Either you go back to the wedding venue, and meet whatever fate awaits you of scornful mothers, and disappointed fathers, and abandoned fiances. Or, you can go anywhere.

You make a mistake, let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, and end up asking yourself where will Jack go. He still lives in the home you once shared, this you know. Will he go there, pour himself a drink, and try to forget this night even happened?

You can still picture it all. The coffee table Jack hand-carved, both your initials engraved on the side. The picture frames all along the wall, a mural of memories shared between you. The matching set of mugs, eternally sitting on the drying board, waiting for Jack to stagger his way down the stairs and fill them with boiling coffee. If you walked through that door again, would you find everything just the way you left it? Or, has he gotten a new table, changed the pictures in the frames, bought new mugs? Is there someone there, right now, sleeping in his bed and waiting on his return?

A bitter taste overcomes your tongue at the thought, your insides twisting up like you’ve not spent the past few months sleeping next to someone else and saying yes to proposals you weren’t expecting.

“What do you think I should do?” You don’t want him to tell you to go home, you want him to say come home.

“You can’t ask that of me. My answer’s gonna be nothin’ but selfish.” Would it really be so bad, you wish to ask, if Jack was selfish? Maybe life would be easier if he was. He clears his throat, like he clears his mind, and gone is your moment to tell him you want selfish. “I can say this, though… Your fiance’s a good man, a kind man. Kind enough to trust your parents words and let me, a stranger, go searchin’ for you. He deserves to know what decision you make. It ain’t just your weddin’, it’s his too.”

He’s right, and you hate it.

There’s no way you can tell him now that you were even contemplating not going back, of disappearing into the sunrise with him, driving till life leads you down the right roads to find a new home, your old home, Jack.

The muddied wedding dress seems to call to you from the car boot, a whispering of your name that tells you to put it back on, go back, and walk down that aisle. You owe that much to your fiance, if he’ll still have you. With him, you’ve never had to worry about him coming home safe. With him, you could live a happy enough life, keep yourself busy enough to ignore all the what-ifs your mind would try seduce you with.

Besides, that’s what Jack needs, right? To see you marry another man, a final nail in the coffin named us, so he can finally move on with his life. You owe him that much, at least.

With a nod of your head and the straightening of your spine, you set your choice in stone, “drive me back to him, Jack.”

The engine shudders to life and the radio sets itself back on course, some upbeat voice that demands you go your own way, a musical slap delivered upon your face. Jack turns the steering wheel, rerouting the car’s course with an effortless u-turn before he presses down on the accelerator, propelling you forward down the paths you’ve already travelled.

You tell yourself you’re doing the right thing, even if a familiar dread starts to settle in the pit of your stomach, brushing them off as rational nerves. Who wouldn’t be anxious when facing a man they left at the altar?

A yawn escapes you.

“We’re a few hours out from the chateau.” There’s something in his voice that weighs on him, the tone between you shifting to something of desperation. Goodbye is a few hours away. This time, for good. “Sleep, it’s late.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Pull over, you want to say. Let’s sleep. The wedding can wait a few more hours.

How unfortunate that he cannot read your thoughts, understand the intentions behind your staring as you recline your chair, turn to face him on your side, hands crossed protectively over your abdomen.

One blink, and your eyes are already fighting to stay open, dragging you down into the depths of slumber.

“I’m fine. Don’t sleep much these days anyway,” the sound of Jack’s voice fades slowly into the background, melting away with the hum of the engine, and the turn of the wheels, and the voice on the radio. “Never got used to the feeling of an empty bed.”

TRACK 5 — i’m on fire

When your eyes next open, the sun’s warmth is caressing your face.

The sound of children’s laughter fills the air, and the smell of smoke fills your lungs, and the feeling of resting against Jack’s shoulder fills you with dread. Fearful to move, you take in all of him that you can see from this angle.

There’s no suit upon him, replaced with the casualness of a cotton t-shirt and a pair of faded denims. The hat’s back on his head, the curls of ungelled hair that peak through dry as a bone. A cigarette rests neatly between fingers on his left hand, the right one grasping at the neck of a beer bottle. No wheel sits in front of him, no gear shift keeps space between you. The Bronco’s been replaced with the view of your parent’s backyard and the comfort of a well cushioned outdoor couch.

You know this memory.

You’ve lived this memory.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” just like you remember, Jack’s stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette the moment he notices your open eyes. “How you feelin’?”

“Like my uterus is trying to carve its way out of me,” your mouth plays along with the dream, speaking the same words it had years ago.

“That good, huh?” A beer stained kiss meets the corner of your mouth, another follows up to your forehead, as Jack’s free hand reaches into his pocket, reemerging with silver foil between two fingers. “Got these off your mother. Let me go get you somethin’ to eat, then you can take two, hm?”

You remember thinking that you love him. You didn't dare speak it, however, simply nodding as you took the blister packet of paracetamol out his offering grasp and uncurled your legs back down onto the floor, stretching your arms. Jack bends down, presses his lips against the crown of your head, and then he’s off, venturing over to where your father stands grilling another round of burgers on the barbeque.

Jack’s always been a confident man. He carries himself with a head held high and a careless smile on his face, no chip on his shoulder and no flare for anger in his bones. A southern gentleman, who knows his own charms and, most dangerously, how to use them. Place him alone with your father, however, and watch how he crumbles like a house of cards. To the untrained eye, it’s unnoticeable, but you don’t miss the glances he spies your father with each time he throws out a joke, nor the way his hands can never seem to relax, a nervous tic of drumming against his thighs or balling into fists as he makes conversation with the older man. He’s desperate for the approval of your monotonous father, so desperate he fails to see he won it months ago,

“Eat up, drink up, you need it,” he says as he hands you the paper plate, and his half-drunk bottle of beer. He settles back down on the couch, pulling you into him once more. “Your old man was sayin’ we should probably head off soon, ‘fore it gets too late. Think he’s startin’ to warm up to me, he’s even worryin’ bout me drivin’ in the dark.”

“Oh, he loves you,” you take a bite, break two of the pills out their casing, wash them down with a swig of bitter beer. The summer sun burns in the corners of your eyes, forcing them into a squint. “He kept looking for you at the dinner table at my mom’s birthday, you should’ve seen his reaction when I told him you were stuck in New York slaving away in your office.”

Months later, you’d come to find out he wasn’t in New York, surrounded by mountains of paperwork, but somewhere in the south of France, hunting down some billionaire wine-maker with plans to poison the crops of surrounding vineyards, leaving only his wine safe to consume.

In your memory, Jack plucks the hat off his own head and rests it gently upon your own, a shaded barrier against the bright light in the sky. You thank him, he watches on quietly as you continue to eat, gaze not peeling itself away from you the whole time.

“What? Do I have ketchup on my face? Or, in my hair?” You’d asked him, mid-chew. No answer, more staring. Panic made a debut in your mind, suddenly alert to his unusual behaviour. “Wait, is it a bug? Jack, is there a bug in my hair?”

“I love you.”

No build up, no grand-speech, no overly romantic setting.

He said it like one shares the weather, or the time, or what they’re wanting for lunch. He said it like it was something he always said, would always say, despite it being the very first time you’d heard him do so. Tears had flown in quickly, your hormones already gone haywire with the unexpected arrival of shark week earlier that morning. There’s a vague assurance that you told him you loved him too, through tears, and he teased your weepy face with kisses down your cheeks and full-chested laughter.

“Bless your cotton socks, my sweet girl, cryin’ all cause old Jack says-”

“Tell me now baby, is he good to you?”

You jolt awake.

Jack’s by your side, suit on, hair air dried, one hand on the wheel, the other rests out the window. The roof is down, letting the sun shine on you and his caramel eyes. An old Springstein song plays in the background, the very same thing that coaxed you awake. Just like the dream, he takes a few minutes to notice your opened eyes, head turning your way as another car shoots off ahead of you both, overtaking him.

“You were mumblin’ in your sleep. Were you dreamin’ of somethin’ sweet?”

“I was,” too quick comes your reply. Too honest. Nerves have you stumbling over words, scrambling to pick them off the floor of your mind and spew out the first thing that doesn’t involve Jack and his easy-going professions of love. “About the first time my fiance told me he loves me.”

You regret it as soon as you speak, the visible halt to his smile. He overcorrects it, forcing a grin that stretches the corners of his mouth so tight it almost looks painful. “Well, c’mon, don’t go keepin’ it to yourself!”

“He, uh, wrote it in the sky.”

“How romantic. Pricey too, I bet.”

“It was his best man who did it, an ex military pilot.”

As you try to reminisce on the day, little memories blossom in your mind. Instead of vivid motion capture, the day is black and white, no sound. You don’t remember where you were, what he was wearing, how you felt when you read those words up above.

It happened only two months into your relationship, that you do remember. You also remember being parked in your old neighbourhood the night before, twenty minutes spent trying to will yourself to go knock on the door to your old home. The Bronco was in its usual spot, parked outside. No lights were on as you pulled away and willed yourself back to rational thinking.

“Jeez, if that’s how he’s tellin’ you he loves you, I can’t imagine how he proposed.”

You wonder if this is as tortuous for him as it is for you, listening to you detail the life you’d gone on to live just months after walking away from five years of love. “In a restaurant,” you can’t remember the name, or what you ate, or what you wore, as if the memory is one that doesn’t belong to you, never belonged to you. “I ordered dessert, ‘will you marry me?’ was written on it in cherry sauce.”

“You must’ve said yes immediately.”

“I did.”

You leave out the part where the whole restaurant had watched him get down on one knee, or the part where you rushed to the restroom right after accepting the ring, spewing your guts out in a stall. By morning, you told yourself it was fine, you were just feeling nervous.

After all, you loved him enough to spend time with him, so why not spend the rest of your life with him?

TRACK 6 — she’s always a woman

It had been too easy to forget the thing you loved most about road trips with Jack.

It wasn’t his constant commentary of interesting facts on sites you’d drive past, or his love for taking the long-way to anywhere and everywhere, or his ever-present need to drag your hand up to his lips with every few miles.

The thing you loved most was listening to his voice, unfiltered, unashamed, outloud, singing along to his favourite songs. The voice of a crooning angel and the shyness of a bashful fox. Every so often, when he’d catch you watching him a little too fondly as he sang along, he’d throw in a voice crack, or twist up a lyric into a sickly innuendo.

In the present, it’s you who interrupts his spirited rendition of a Billy Joel classic.

“You were right, in the letters,” the leather of your seat squeaks as you fix your posture, sit yourself up straight if only to force yourself to stop observing the way his lips fall into a natural pout and, instead, focus on memorising the licence plate that drives ahead. “I’m sorry.”

“Right about what?” As though nothing has changed, his hand extends towards your own, effortlessly intertwining your fingers, beginning an ascent to his mouth before mind takes over instinct and he’s letting you go, setting you free.

You give up on the licence plate ahead, turn your face once more towards Jack and his pouty lips.

“I couldn’t be with Agent Whiskey anymore.” A relationship made up of a man, a woman, and an agent. Whiskey would kiss you goodbye in the morning, while Jack would be the one to come home to you. With the passing of time, three became a crowd, and so you removed yourself. “I didn’t want to break your heart, Jack, I swear. But I also didn’t want to let you break mine. And you did, every time you walked out of our home and left me wondering if you’d ever come back. Then, when Tequila… You loved your job. You loved being Agent Whiskey. How could I ask you to leave that part of you behind?”

“Darlin’ if you think there’s any world where losin’ you was easier than losin’ Whiskey, you’re out of your mind.” Like his first I love you, he speaks words that flow out of him as easily as an exhale, as though they carry no weight to them. As though they do not momentarily flip your world on its axis and have you wishing he’d turn the car around, driving you both off into the forever you never got.

Yet another car overtakes the Bronco, its driver angrily pressing on his horn. You both continue to ignore the speed at which Jack drives. Up ahead, everything you’ve been dreading comes into view, an unmissable billboard. Clearview Manor.

50 miles to go. 50 miles till goodbye.

“I’m hungry.”

“Those energy bars should still be in there, if you’re wantin’-”

“Jack, I’m hungry,” you say it louder, hoping he’ll pick up what you’re laying down.“Can’t we stop somewhere for breakfast?”

His answer comes in the form of a left blinker switching on, wheels cutting over gravel and carrying you off the main road. Then, as if to break your heart some more than his last declaration, he turns to you. “If it had been me waitin’ on you at the end of the aisle, would you have ran?”

You try to picture it.

Jack, in his suit and tie, hands clasped behind his back to keep him from drumming nervous fingers over his thighs, eyes brimming with tears as you take your first step down the aisle. Would the panic have settled in? Would you have felt that same wrongness as when you’d been sneaking a peak at your fiance waiting down the aisle?

Would you have ran?

“It’s not something I planned, y’know? Running. I didn’t think it was even an option,” you’re laying your final card on the table, a truth you couldn't bring yourself to admit earlier at last coming out to play. You’re unsure if it dismisses or further condemns you for your runaway crimes. “I took a peak, at the ceremony hall, while waiting for my father. I needed to see what I was about to walk into. I guess I thought the nerves were just from that, the unknown. Then I saw you, a few rows from the back. At first I thought I was hallucinating, that you were just a man who happened to be wearing a cowboy hat. But then I saw my mum pulling you in for a hug, and I caught a glimpse of your face. That’s why I ran. I couldn’t… marry another man, not with you standing in the crowd.”

“You’ve not answered my question,” it’s the first you’ve seen Jack put his foot down since he dragged you out the diner, the seriousness etched into his frowning forehead and stamped onto his lips. “Would you have ran?”

“No.”

Jack just keeps driving.

TRACK 7 — dancing in the dark

“You can’t be serious!”

Squeezed into the corner booth of a dingy, run-down bar, you and Jack sit across from one another, digging into a stack of pancakes lathered in maple syrup.

The bartender and two of his patrons glance at you both every so often, and you have to wonder how odd a pair you and Jack must make. One dressed to the nines, if you ignore the dried mud at the bottom of his dress pants and his loosening tie, the other wearing yesterday’s make-up paired with cotton pyjama pants. You prefer it to the stares you’d gained in your wrinkled gown.

“Deadly. I’m a serious tap-dancin’ student,” his fork stabs into the fluffy goodness, dragging it along the plate, soaking the pancake in as much syrup as possible. You try not to think of mornings that used to be spent like this, sitting at your own table, flour in his hair and eggshells in your own, both of you ignoring the disastrous mess in the kitchen begging to be cleaned as you tuck into your homemade pancakes. “Retirement breeds weird hobbies.”

“Before long, you’ll be playing bingo at the old folks home.”

“I just have to ask, I really do,” a dread you haven’t felt since stepping out the car— with the help of Jack and his offering hand, the other holding your door open— creeps back in. You don’t want to talk about your own current reality, not when it’s been so easy to pretend none of the wedding fiasco happened and, instead, you’re simply catching up with Jack after bumping into each other in this bar. “This fiance of yours… is he bigger than me?”

As quick as it inflates, the tension pops.

“Oh my god, Jack!” You laugh, a little too loudly, and dip your head as other tables turn their heads your way.

“What?”

“You did not just ask me that.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“You can’t just say things like that!” In mock surrender, he throws his hands up. Your own grab ahold of your knife and fork once more, an ironclad focus on the near-empty plate as you will the shameful heat away from your face, mumbling over your words. “But, no, he isn’t bigger. Happy?”

“You’ve no idea.” As though you’re being haunted by music, a song begins to play over the speakers. You’re not the only one who takes notice, Jack’s eyes lighting up with a devious look, his legs already rising out of his seat. “Think that’s our queue, darlin’.”

“Sit back down.”

“Oh, c’mon now, don’t be so uptight,” he lays out his hand, begging for you to place your own in it. Flashes of a memory, six years back, the very same song playing as the very same man attempted to coax a dance out of you. “One dance, sweetheart, then I’ll leave you in peace.”

Just like your younger self, you’re incapable of resisting his baby cow eyes, letting him guide you out onto a makeshift dance floor before it’s too late to run back and hide in your seat, the eyes of strangers already piercing you with their questioning stares. If you weren’t deemed a strange pair with your attire alone, you certainly are now, feet stumbling awkwardly along with Bruce Springstein.

“This song was playin’ when we met,” he says it like you don’t know, like you don’t remember, like you aren’t replaying that night as you speak, pretending you’re both in that same crowd of swaying bodies, young, and naive, and on the cusp of experiencing the greatest love you’ll ever know, rather than here, on an empty dance floor, stumbling blindly through the hardships of holding each other so close, mutually aware you’re dancing on borrowed time and, soon, you’ll have to go. “Knowin’ now how it ends, if I was sent back in time, I’d still ask you to dance. I’d do it all again.”

“This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just…”

He spins you, drags you closer, sways you. It’s far less care-free than the first dance you shared, no alcohol to dull the shame and a whole lot of history packed between your bodies.

The first dance had been the thing you had dreaded most about your wedding, dancing with your husband, to a whole room of loved ones watching. Dancing now with Jack— even through all the embarrassment you feel as an elderly couple point over at you— feels easier, less daunting, so much so that you can’t help the way you start to laugh, arms loosening around his shoulders, hips moving less abashedly.

The two of you inch closer, and closer, and closer as the song reaches its end. Like a happy couple finishes their first dance, Jack’s mouth lands atop yours.

A gentle kiss, innocent of sin, it begs you to give back, to press your own mouth against his. You answer its calling, hand clasping at the back of his neck, holding him safely against you, less he drifts away and reveals this all to have been a dream, a nightmare, a delusion. Like coming home after a cold winter’s day, his kiss is the comfort of knowing you’re exactly where you belong.

And it’s absolutely terrifying.

You rip away from him, flashes of your fiance’s face blinding you as you stumble off, doing what you do best: running away. You miss the way the patrons all go back to their own drinks, and the way a new song comes on, and the way Jack chases after you, stopped only by the slamming of a bathroom door.

You come up for air when you find yourself faced with the image you paint in the mirror.

Never has there been a more heartbroken girl, eyes a mess of tears, and faded eyeliner, and smudged mascara, hair a nest fit enough for any bird to build its home in, body draped in the clothing of an ex-lover. It’s almost as frightening as the image you made yesterday, wedding gown freshly laced and make-up pristinely done.

A knock rings against the door.

It’s followed by a gentle call of your name.

You switch on the tap, welcome the cold splash of water over your face. Pray that, if you scrub hard enough, you’ll wipe away the taste of him, forget the shape of his touch, purge yourself of the desire to follow anywhere he may go. Your hand slips down your face, the dim bathroom light catches on something.

Your engagement ring, a tight shackle that binds you to someone else, reminds you of the closure you owe to Jack.

He calls your name again.

“Darlin’,” it’s muffled behind the door, but the regret in his voice is all too clear. “I just got caught up, I’m sorry. Come on out and we’ll get back on the road-”

The hinges creak as the door opens, only a crack, and your hand shoots out, grabbing a hold of Jack’s tie before you can will yourself to be rational.

He lets you invade his space with little protest, mouths returning to the dance they never got to complete. Hands move, slipping off ties, and undoing draw strings, and locking doors. There’s a mumble, are you sure, followed by a moan, please.

All hope of forgetting his skin is lost, a leg hooked around his waist, fingers tangled in his hair. He bites at your neck, and kisses along your jaw, and pants into your ear, all the while his hips rock back and forth against your own, filling you inch by inch. Mouth covered by your own hand, muffling a cry of his name as you feel him brush against that spine-tingling spot inside you. Your head falls back, eyes slip shut. Jack’s quick to rectify it.

“Watch, darlin’,” he whispers, a hand tilting your eyes down to where your two bodies meet. “ Want you to see how perfectly your lil’ pussy takes me.”

You do as he says, hypnotised by the sight of his cock, glistening in your own arousal, sawing in and out of you, each thrust deeper than the last.

“He can’t fuck you like this, can he?” Despite his ego-fueled words, there’s a desperation in his voice, a soul lost in a sea of darkness, searching for a life jacket. “Tell me he can’t.”

He can’t, you tell him, clinging onto him tighter, needier, begging him to never leave.

Any minute now, you worry, someone’s going to knock on the bathroom door, kick you both out. Instead, the music that plays outside the door seems to increase in volume.

“Fuckin’ made for me, meant for me,” both of you grow increasingly desperate, fingernails digging into flesh, and mouths rejoining in a frenzy of kisses, and the tightening of an invisible string, drawing you nearer and nearer to the edge. “My sweet girl.”

An end that comes all too soon, both of you exhausted, and spent, and collapsing against one another, a sticky mess left between your legs where his hips continue to rut into you through his own overstimulation.

“I’m sorry,” his head falls against your shoulder, burrows into the warmth of your neck. There’s a press of his lips against your skin, and a million apologies that follow. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I love you.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” you lie, sooth a hand over his back, ignore the tears you feel falling against your skin.

TRACK 8 — hit the road jack

The clock reads 13:18 as Jack brings the car to a stop.

A set of stairs lead up to a grand double-doored entrance, a sign post declaring the extravagant building as Clearview Manor. Rented for the whole weekend, the wedding party isn’t cited to leave until late Monday evening. Though all cars remain parked in the driveway, no familiar faces await your arrival.

“I hope you get your happy ending,” the two of you step out of the car in sync. A voice whispers that it’s the last time you’ll step out the Bronco, you brush it off and follow Jack as he makes his way over to the boot. “No one deserves it more than you, Jack.”

“No promises, darlin’,” he extends his arms to you, you almost move in for a hug.

The sight of your wedding dress, no longer porcelain white, stains of brown upon a greying fabric, reminds you of why you’re here. You try your best to smile earnestly as you take it off his hands, but fear it only heightens the distress that dilates your pupils. “I’ll see you inside, right?”

The boot slams shut, and it’s an awful reminder that your time together is coming to a close, Jack dons his signature smile, cowboy hat back on his head, a head that’s shaking no.

“The mighty fool that I am, thinkin’ I could stomach watchin’ you get married to another man. After this little road trip of ours… well, I guess I just ain’t ready to hit play yet.” A tongue made of lead, shoes filled with weights. Moving feels impossible, talking even more so. You want to say his name, tell him you don’t need to marry another man, crawl back into the Bronco and beg him to drive off. “Go’on, get! There’s a good man in there, waitin’ to give you everythin’ you deserve.”

Instead, you just turn on your heel, take the first step towards the rest of your life. A life without Jack.

Halfway up the stairway, the sound of Jack’s engine reaches your ears, followed quickly by the obnoxiously poignant car radio, giving its final performance for you both.

“Hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back, no more, no more, no more, no more!”

Eyes meeting where Jack sits, back in the driver’s seat, you share one last laugh.

OUTRO — everywhere

“Thank god you’re okay.”

Two arms, strong and secure, wrap around your waist.

On the other side of the bridal suite door stands both your mother and your mother in law, ushered out by your fiance upon your return the moment he noticed the panic on your face as questions and fingers prodded at you.

You block out the thought of the scowling faces, burrowing your own into the space between his shoulder and neck, whispering your inquiry on, “how bad is the damage?”

“We told everyone you were suffering from food poisoning. All our guests think you’ve been spewing out of both ends the past few hours, but I think that’s justified for the bruising you’ve given my ego.”

“Santi,” the shape of your fiance’s name feels foreign in your mouth, the taste of it sour on your tongue, so much so that you can’t say it in full. “I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be, what matters is you’re here now.”

Jack was right, your fiance is a nice man. A good man. A man anyone would be lucky to land in the arms of, the kind of man people dream of, and romance authors write of.

But to you, his arms just feel like a cage you’ve lost the key for. “Why did you ask me to marry you?”

“I don’t know. We just… make sense.”

“We do,” you pull apart, at last, nodding your head along to his answer. “But is that all marriage should be? Two people who make sense?” You stumble a few steps back from him, feet needing space to begin pacing back and forth as your filter slips and the word-vomit begins to spew itself out onto the pristine carpeted floors. “Do you really love me enough to spend the rest of your days with me? Because I don’t think you do, and I don’t think I love you like that either.”

Santiago is calm, collected, and completely unresponsive.

The longer he watches you pace and rant, the quicker you do each thing, as though you’re racing ahead to escape the fear of breaking his heart more than you already have, his love possibly more intense than you make it seem. He ends that fear in one foul swoop of words.

“When you didn’t walk down the aisle, I felt relieved. I also slept with someone at my bachelor party and the guilt has been eating me alive.”

“I just fucked my ex in a bathroom!” In an almost paradoxical response, the pair of you keen over in laughter, any expected animosity thrown out the metaphorical window and leaving you both no choice but to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. “God, we’re a mess.”

“Wait, the cowboy’s your ex? I should’ve known, your dad told him you were gone before he even bothered to tell me.” Santiago had little luck at winning over your dad, though admittedly it was no fault of his own but, rather, your father had yet to move on from Jack. There’s a sudden commotion as Santi rushes past you, peeling back the curtains and peering down out the window. “What car is it the cowboy drives?”

“A Bronco.”

“Well, you might wanna hurry, because he’s just pulling out of the parking bays.” It’s more than just a warning. It’s a blessing to leave. Overcome with emotion, you dive back into his arms and find there’s no fear of goodbye, not like there had been with Jack. An engagement ring that slips off with no resistance, no longer a shackle that ties you both together. You hand it back to him gently. “Go, before it’s too late! I’ll take care of this mess, see if I can spin this in a way that’s heartbreaking enough to get our deposit back.”

There’s more you want to say, but now’s not the time. Apologies and thank-yous can wait till you pick up your things from his apartment, right now you’re too busy rushing to the door.

A call of your name comes when you’ve got one foot out it, treading into the now motherless hallway. You face Santiago with a smile, ready to say that magic word.

Goodbye.

“Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t invite me to your wedding.”

You make it out the double-doors, which slam loudly shut behind you, before you spot the retreating shape of Jack’s car and an anxious glee commands you to break out into a sprint, legs kicking faster than they ever have before.

Don’t speed up, you think, watching as the Bronco slowly creeps down the driveway.

“Jack!” You call out to him, hoping that, with the open roof, he’ll somehow hear you over the radio. Pushing your feet to move a little faster, your arms join the mix, waving wildly to the wind, a careless attempt to catch his attention in the rearview mirror. “Wait!”

The car breaks with a squeak, the blaring music comes to a halt, and Jack turns to face you with his own eyes, as though he can’t trust the mirrors. When you reach the car, you pull at the door handle and find he’s already unlocked it. You slide in with ease, back into the seat you’ve always belonged in: by his side.

He can’t seem to move, frozen with his eyes focused on nothing but you.

“Drive, jack,” you finally proclaim, asking him what you should’ve the moment you saw him in that diner, in the pews, in the heartbreaking hours post-burying a friend.

“Where to, darlin’?”

“Anywhere, everywhere!” You can’t help the smile that overcomes you as he pulls your hand up to his mouth, planting a familiar kiss upon it, before the engine hums back to life. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you, all roads lead home.”

Like old times, you lean forward and turn up the radio, a familiar tune filling the air as you sink back into your seat, the wind back in your hair and an open road laying ahead, ready to lead you both wherever the wheels may take you.

“Oh I, I wanna be with you everywhere.”

bts with hyde. this is just a little reflective commentary that i put down here, to avoid flooding my author's note with too much rambling. please feel free to skip this!!

this fic is a compilation of firsts for me. it's the first challenge i've taken part in within the pedro fanspace, which has been equally exciting as it has been daunting. i struggle immensely with writing on a time schedule, and so i'm pretty proud of myself for not posting this (too) late.

this is also my first time writing for jack. admitedly, i'm not sure if i've done justice to him, as his character is somehow incredibly strong and, yet, so open for interpretation that i found myself struggling to connect with him in my writing. i have no plans to write for him in any future wips, but that might change. it was definitely fun to push myself out my comfort zone and write for a new character!

something i want to praise myself for is the attention i put into smaller details of this fic. for example, each flower mentioned in this fic has a very specific symbol/meaning attached to it, fitting with the themes of the scenes in which they're mentioned. the other place i hyperfocused on very unimportant details is the playlist. it opens and closes on the only two songs fronted by a female vocalist, with my intention being that these songs are a representation of the reader's inner turmoils and thoughts in the opening and closing scenes. the rest of the playlist is full of male vocalists, giving a peak into jack's mind despite the entire fic being told through the reader's eyes.

okay, i've given myself enough delusional and unnecesary praise, i'm going to sleep now. please don't be mean if you didn't like this fic, it's literally my birthday 🫡

if you've read this far, ily, i hope you have a good day !

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